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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865. Search the whole document.

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Dutch (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
or deserters from the other side who enlisted in our army, were called galvanized Yankees. As soon as Uncle Grief had brought his mules to a halt, the strange figure shuffled up to the side of the wagon and began to plead piteously, in broken Dutch, to be taken in. He was shaking with a common ague fit, and though we couldn't help feeling sorry for him, he looked so comical as he stood there with his blanket drawn round him like a winding sheet and his little red Dutch face peering out at Dutch face peering out at us with such an expression of exaggerated and needless terror, that it was hard to repress a smile. The captain was about to order Uncle Grief to drive on without taking any further notice of him, but Sam Weller assured us that the country people would certainly hang him if they should catch him away from his command. They were too exasperated to make any distinction between a galvanized and any other sort of a Yankee-and to tell the truth, I think, myself, if there is any difference at all,
South Carolina (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
handsome middle-aged gentleman in the uniform of a colonel, with a pretty young girl beside him, whom we at once spotted as his bride. They were surrounded by a number of officers, and the bride greatly amused us, in the snatches of their conversation we overheard, by her extreme bookishness. She was clearly just out of school. The only other lady on the car was closely occupied with the care of her husband, a wounded Confederate officer, whom we afterwards 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 distance. Some of the seats were without backs and some without bottoms, and the roadbed so uneven that in places the car tilted from side to side as if it was going to upset and spill us all out. We ate dinner on the cars --that is, Fred ate, while Metta and I were watching the people. The weather was very hot, and I sweltered like a steam e
Gordon (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
m of war had done to disfigure its fair face. Every few hundred yards we crossed beautiful, clear streams with luxuriant swamps along their borders, gay with shining evergreens and bright winter berries. But when we struck the Central R. R. at Gordon, the desolation was more complete than anything we had yet seen. There was nothing left of the poor little village but ruins, charred and black as Yankee hearts. The pretty little depot presented only a shapeless pile of bricks capped by a crumed Metta and me to share a nice cold supper with him; the bride offered us the only thing she had left — some real coffee, which the colonel had boiled at a fire kindled on the ground outside-and two ladies, strangers to us, who had got aboard at Gordon, sent us each a paper package containing a dainty little lunch of cold chicken and buttered biscuit. But Metta was too ill to eat. She had a high fever, and we both spent a miserable, sleepless night. At last day began to break, cold, clear,
Walnut Creek (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
he crowd. We steamed along smoothly enough for an hour or two, until just at nightfall, when within two miles of Macon, the train suddenly stopped and we were told that we should have to spend the night there or walk to town. The bridge over Walnut Creek, which had been damaged by Stoneman's raiders last summer, was so weakened by the storm of the night before that it threatened to give way, and it was impossible to run the train across. We were all in despair. Metta was really ill and the rso glad to get out of the prison where we had spent such an uncomfortable night that we immediately put on our wraps and began to cross the tottering trestle on foot. It was 80 feet high and half a mile long, over a swamp through which flowed Walnut Creek, now swollen to a torrent. Part of the flooring of the bridge was washed down stream and our only foothold was a narrow plank, hardly wider than my two hands. Capt. Mackall charged himself with my parcels, and Mr. Belisle was left to look af
Florence, Ala. (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
imney, 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 dining-room. We had
Cobb (search for this): chapter 2
seemed loath to leave us in that plight, and offered to stay and see us through, if I wanted him, but I couldn't impose on his kindness to that extent. Besides, we still had the captain and the colonel, and all the rest of them, and I knew we would never lack for attention or protection as long as there was a Confederate uniform in sight. Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine joined the walkers, too, in the vain hope of sending an engine, or even a hand-car for us, but all their representations to Gen. Cobb and the R. R. authorities were fruitless; nothing could be done till morning, and a rumor got out among us from somewhere that even then there would be nothing for it but to walk and get our baggage moved as best we might. For the first time my spirits gave way, and as Metta was too ill to notice what I was doing, I hid my face in my hands and took a good cry. Then the captain came over and did his best to cheer me up by talking about other things. He showed me photographs of his sisters
Shine (search for this): chapter 2
was gladly accepted. We also made room for Dr. Shine, one of the officers of their party, who, weiver, had been turned afoot to make room for Dr. Shine, and was walking ahead to act as guide in thmfortable feeling of safety and protection. Dr. Shine brought us a toddy, and the colonel and the rta, which seemed to recede as we advanced. Dr. Shine, who was driving, didn't know the road, and thing to talk about the rest of their days. Dr. Shine and the Texas captain had gone ahead of the While Charles and Crockett, the servants of Dr. Shine and the colonel, were unpacking our baskets mfortably housed, I thanked Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine for their efforts, in a pair of impromptu vefederate uniform in sight. Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine joined the walkers, too, in the vain hope of nothing but measles. When we got to Macon, Dr. Shine further relieved my mind by assuring me it and proposed taking us to her house, and on Dr. Shine's advice I decided to accept this invitation
Stoneman (search for this): chapter 2
grace. Metta's indisposition had been increasing all day and she was now so ill that I was seriously uneasy, but all I could do was to place her next to the window, where she would not be so much disturbed by the crowd. We steamed along smoothly enough for an hour or two, until just at nightfall, when within two miles of Macon, the train suddenly stopped and we were told that we should have to spend the night there or walk to town. The bridge over Walnut Creek, which had been damaged by Stoneman's raiders last summer, was so weakened by the storm of the night before that it threatened to give way, and it was impossible to run the train across. We were all in despair. Metta was really ill and the rest of us worn out with fatigue and loss of sleep, besides being half famished. Our provisions were completely exhausted; the fine grape brandy mother had put in the basket was all gone-looted, I suppose, by the servants-and we had no other medicine. A good many of the men decided to w
Charles Day (search for this): chapter 2
es, and the waist made over with Elizabethan sleeves, so that it looked almost like a new dress, besides being very becoming, as the big sleeves helped out my figure by their fullness. I frizzed my hair and put on the head-dress of black velvet ribbon and gold braid that Cousin Sallie Farley gave me. I think I must have looked nice, because I heard several people inquiring who I was when I went into the dining-room. I had hardly put in the last pin when a servant came to announce that Mr. Charles Day, Mary's father, had called. He was the only person in the drawing-room when I entered and made a very singular, not to say, striking appearance, with his snowwhite hair framing features of such a peculiar dark complexion that he made me think of some antique piece of wood-carving. The impression was strengthened by a certain stiffness of manner that is generally to be noticed in all men of Northern birth and education. Not long after, Harry Day called. He said that Mary This att
Chaucer (search for this): chapter 2
vice 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 wearisome turmoile. [Note.-Several pages are torn from the manuscript here.-author.]
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