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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865 8 0 Browse Search
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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, I. Across Sherman's track (December 19-24, 1864) (search)
hidden up the chimney, and gave us the use of her dining table and dishes-such of them as the Yankees had left — to spread our lunch on. While Charles and Crockett, the servants of Dr. Shine and the colonel, were unpacking our baskets in the dining-room, all our party assembled in the little parlor, the colonel was made master of ceremonies, and a general introduction took place. The Texas captain gave his name as Jarman; the shabby lieutenant in the war-worn uniform-all honor to it-was Mr. Foster, of Florence, Ala.; the Baltimorean was Capt. Mackall, cousin of the commandant at Macon, and the colonel himself had been a member of the Confederate Congress, but resigned to go into the army, the only place for a brave man in these times. So we all knew each other at last and had a good laugh together over the secret curiosity that had been devouring each of us about our traveling companions, for the last twenty-four hours. Presently Crockett announced supper, and we went into the dini
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, V. In the dust and ashes of defeat (may 6-June 1, 1865). (search)
had a jolly time, nevertheless. After dinner we played euchre, with gingercakes for stakes, and when the bank broke on them, descended to a game of Muggins. The captain gave us all mustaches, and we put on hats and coats and went to visit Aunt Sallie. Mett and Henry fought a duel with popguns, and when we saw Gen. Elzey coming up the avenue, we turned our popguns on him, till at last father said we were getting so boisterous he had to call us to order. Gen. Elzey stayed to tea, and Gardiner Foster dropped in. The general wore a gray coat from which all the decorations had been ripped off and the buttons covered with plain gray cloth, but he would look like a soldier. and a gentleman even in a Boston stove-pipe hat, or a suit of Yankee blue. Some of our boys put their discarded buttons in tobacco bags and jingle them whenever a Yank comes within earshot. Some will not replace them at all, but leave their coats flying open to tell the tale of spoliation. Others put ridiculous
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
s certainly something in the air. The town is fuller of bluecoats than I have seen it in a long time. I crossed the street to avoid meeting a squad of them, but as I heard some of them make remarks upon my action, and didn't wish to do anything that would attract their notice, I bulged right through the midst of the next crowd I met, keeping my veil down and my parasol raised, and it wouldn't have broken my heart if the point had punched some of their eyes out. While we were at dinner Gardiner Foster and Sallie May Ford came in from Augusta, and left immediately after for Elberton. They say that when the prayer for the President of the United States was read for the first time in St. Paul's Church, not a single response was heard, but when Mr. Clarke read the Prayer for prisoners and Captives, there was a perfect storm of Amens. While we were at dinner the faithful Abraham came with a wagon to carry off Capt. Parker's boxes, and father sent a servant out and invited him to a sea
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 8 (search)
but to harden our hearts against sufferings we never caused and have no power to prevent. Our enemies have done it all; let them glory in their work. Aug. 5, Saturday It rained like fury all the afternoon, and I finished my account of the bank robbery which I intend trying to sell to one of the New York papers. I did my best to get at the exact truth, and father did all he could to help me, so I think it is, in the main, about as clear a statement of the facts as can be got at. Gardiner Foster came over from Elberton and spent the evening with us. Somebody is always sure to come when I neglect to change my dress in the evening. Mary Semmes and I took a long walk together before breakfast, and met neither Yankees nor negroes. The freedmen are living up to their privileges now, and leave the early morning hours to us white trash. Willie Robertson told me about an adventure of his that might have strayed out of a New York Ledger story. Returning home late the other night