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Atlanta (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
person than the overseer, and so the writer and a younger sister, Metta, were usually sent to be her companions during the winter. The summers she spent with us at the old home. But in the fall of 1864, while Sherman's army was lying around Atlanta like a pent — up torrent ready to burst forth at any moment, my father was afraid to let us get out of his sight, and we all stood waiting in our defenseless homes till we could see what course the destroying flood would take. Happily for us it people in our part of Georgia had had time to get their breath once more, and began to look about for some way of bridging the gap of ruin and desolation that stretched through the entire length of our State. The Georgia Railroad, running from Atlanta to Augusta, had been destroyed to the north of us, and the Central of Georgia, from Macon to Savannah, was intact for only sixteen miles; that part of the track connecting the former city with the little station of Gordon having lain beyond the
Commissioner Creek (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
t we felt as mean as a lot of thieving Yankees ourselves, for having thought of disturbing his property. He was very polite, and walked nearly a mile in the biting wind to put us back in the right road. Three miles from Gordon we came to Commissioners' Creek, of which we had heard awful accounts all along the road. It was particularly bad just at this time on account of the heavy rain, and had overflowed the swamp for nearly two miles. Porters with heavy packs on their backs were wading throucene looked like a gypsy camp. Here we met again all the people we had seen on the train at Camack, besides a great many others. Judge Baker and the Bonhams arrived a few minutes behind us, after having met with all sorts of disasters at Commissioners' Creek, which they crossed at a worse ford than the one we had taken. We found a dry place near the remains of a half-burned fence where Charles and Crockett soon had a rousing fire and we sat round it, talking over our adventures till the car w
Columbus (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
Then Mrs. Edward Johnston came and proposed taking us to her house, and on Dr. Shine's advice I decided to accept this invitation, as it would hardly be prudent for Metta to travel in her present condition, and we could not get proper attention for her at the hotel. I could not even get a chambermaid without going the whole length of the corridor to ring the bell and waiting there till somebody came to answer it. The colonel and his party left on the one o'clock train that night for Columbus, where they expect to take the boat for Apalachicola. After taking leave of them I went to bed, and if ever any mortal did hard sleeping, I did that night. Next day Mr. Johnston called in his carriage and brought us to his beautiful home on Mulberry St., where we are lodged like princesses, in a bright, sunny room that makes me think of old Chaucer's lines that I have heard Cousin Liza quote so often: This is the port of rest from troublous toile, The world's sweet inne from paine and
Mayfield (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
n turned us over to Fred, who had come up from Augusta to meet us and travel with us as far as Mayfield. At Camack, where we changed cars, we found the train literally crammed with people going on tn the eastern and western portions of our poor little Confederacy flows across the country from Mayfield to Gordon. Mett and I, with two other ladies, whom we found on the train at Camack, were the fterwards learned was Maj. Bonham, of South Carolina. It is only eleven miles from Camack to Mayfield, but the road was so bad and the train so heavy that we were nearly two hours in making the dif clothing I had put on to save room in my trunk. At three o'clock in the afternoon we reached Mayfield, a solitary shanty at the present terminus of the R. R. Fred had sent Mr. Belisle, one of his mheir party, who, we afterwards found out, was a friend of Belle Randolph. About a mile from Mayfield we stopped at a forlorn country tavern, where Fred turned us over to Mr. Belisle, and went in t
Savannah (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
tle town of Washington, where our home was situated, and after it had swept over the capital of the State, reaching Milledgeville November 23d, rolled on toward Savannah, where the sound of merry Christmas bells was hushed by the roar of its angry waters. Meanwhile the people in our part of Georgia had had time to get their bire length of our State. The Georgia Railroad, running from Atlanta to Augusta, had been destroyed to the north of us, and the Central of Georgia, from Macon to Savannah, was intact for only sixteen miles; that part of the track connecting the former city with the little station of Gordon having lain beyond the path of the invadeHarry Day called. He said that Mary This attractive and accomplished young woman afterwards became the wife of Sidney Lanier, America's greatest poet. was in Savannah, cut off by Sherman so that they could get no news of her. He didn't even know whether mother's invitation had reached her. Gussie and Mary Lou Lamar followe
Georgia (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
ve, the writer's eldest sister, Mrs. Troup Butler, was living alone with her two little children on a plantation in Southwest Georgia, between Albany and Thomasville. Besides our father, who was sixty-two when the war began, and a little brother whe the sound of merry Christmas bells was hushed by the roar of its angry waters. Meanwhile the people in our part of Georgia had had time to get their breath once more, and began to look about for some way of bridging the gap of ruin and desolatState. The Georgia Railroad, running from Atlanta to Augusta, had been destroyed to the north of us, and the Central of Georgia, from Macon to Savannah, was intact for only sixteen miles; that part of the track connecting the former city with the lt move would be on either Charleston or Augusta, and in the latter event, our home would be in the line of danger. Southwest Georgia was at that time a Land of Goshen and a city of refuge to harassed Confederates. Thus far it had never been seriou
Montgomery (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
to press the wagon in case of necessity, to take the party to Gordon, and all being now ready, we moved out of Sparta. We soon became very sociable with our new companions, though not one of us knew the other even by name. Mett and I saw that they were all dying with curiosity about us and enjoyed keeping them mystified. The captain said he was from Baltimore, and it was a sufficient introduction when we found that he knew the Elzeys and the Irwins. and that handsome Ed Carey I met in Montgomery last winter, who used to be always telling me how much I reminded him of his cousin Connie. Just beyond Sparta we were halted by one of the natives, who, instead of paying forty dollars for his passage to the agent at the hotel, like the rest of us, had walked ahead and made a private bargain with Uncle Grief, the driver, for ten dollars. This Yankee trick raised a laugh among our impecunious Rebs, and the lieutenant, who was just out of a Northern prison, and very short of funds, thanked
Milledgeville (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
er it had swept over the capital of the State, reaching Milledgeville November 23d, rolled on toward Savannah, where the souin which he had engaged places for us and our trunks to Milledgeville, at seventy-five dollars apiece. It was a common plantme inquiry about the chances for hiring a conveyance at Milledgeville, I heard the countryman say: Milledgeville's liMilledgeville's like hell; you kin get thar easy enough, but gittin‘ out agin would beat the Devil himself. I didn't hear the traveler's neing order. When we had made about half the distance to Milledgeville it began to rain, so the gentlemen cut down saplings whlings, and I liked him for it. Just before reaching Milledgeville, Sam Weller got down to walk to his home, which he saidf such real kindness. Before crossing the Oconee at Milledgeville we ascended an immense hill, from which there was a finme his scruples. Night closed in soon after we left Milledgeville, and it began to rain in earnest. Then we lost the roa
Goshen, N. Y. (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
munication, though subject to many difficulties and discomforts, was so well established that my father concluded it would be practicable for us to make the journey to our sister. We were eager to go, and would be safer, he thought, when once across the line, than at home. Sherman had industriously spread the impression that his next move would be on either Charleston or Augusta, and in the latter event, our home would be in the line of danger. Southwest Georgia was at that time a Land of Goshen and a city of refuge to harassed Confederates. Thus far it had never been seriously threatened by the enemy, and was supposed to be the last spot in the Confederacy on which he would ever set foot-and this, in the end, proved to be not far from the truth. So then, after careful consultation with my oldest brother, Fred, at that time commandant of the Georgia camp of instruction for conscripts, in Macon, we set out under the protection of a reliable man whom my brother detailed to take c
Thomasville (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
I. Across Sherman's track (December 19-24, 1864) Explanatory note.-At the time of this narrative, the writer's eldest sister, Mrs. Troup Butler, was living alone with her two little children on a plantation in Southwest Georgia, between Albany and Thomasville. Besides our father, who was sixty-two when the war began, and a little brother who was only twelve when it closed, we had no male relations out of the army, and she lived there with no other protector, for a good part of the time, than the negroes themselves. There were not over a hundred of them on the place, and though they were faithful, and nobody ever thought of being afraid on their account, it was lonely for her to be there among them with no other white person than the overseer, and so the writer and a younger sister, Metta, were usually sent to be her companions during the winter. The summers she spent with us at the old home. But in the fall of 1864, while Sherman's army was lying around Atlanta like a pen
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