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egard to that deplorable episode of the war. Owing to the policy of the Federal Government in refusing to exchange prisoners, and to the ruin and devastation of war, which made it impossible for the Confederate government to provide adequately for its own soldiers, even with the patriotic aid of our women, the condition of our prisons was anything but satisfactory, both from lack of supplies and from the unavoidable over-crowding caused by the failure of all efforts to effect an exchange. Mr. Tanner, ex-Commander of the G. A. R., who is the last person in the world whom one would think of citing as a witness for the South, bears this unconscious testimony to the force of circumstances that made it impossible for our government to remedy that unhappy situation: It is true that more prisoners died in Northern prisons than Union prisoners died in Southern prisons. The explanation of this is extremely simple. The Southern prisoners came North worn and emaciated-half starved. Th
Stokes Walton (search for this): chapter 3
Millen-her brother dead, their property destroyed; it is the same sad story over again that we hear so much of. This dreadful war is bringing ruin upon so many happy homes. Jan. 19, Thursday I suffered a great disappointment to-day. Mrs. Stokes Walton gave a big dining --everybody in the neighborhood, almost everybody in the county that is anybody was invited. I expected to wear that beautiful new dress that ran the blockade and I have had so few opportunities of showing. All my prepareased me a good deal at first by pretending that Capt. Hobbs was very angry. He says everybody is talking about it and asking for copies. I had no idea of making such a stir by my little joke. Metta and I were invited to spend this week at Stokes Walton's, but company at home prevented. We are going to have a picnic at the Henry Bacons' lake on Thursday, and the week after we expect to begin our journey home in good earnest. Sister is going to visit Brother Troup in Macon at the same time,
he and Wallace had both gone to help fight the raiders at Thomasville. They must have thought us fools indeed, to believe that the enemy could come all the way from Tallahassee or Savannah to Thomasville, without our hearing a word of it till they got there, but we pretended to swallow it all, and got sister to write back that Metta and I were packing our trunks and would leave for Albany immediately, so as to take the first train for Macon; and to give color to the story, she sent word for Tommy, who was spending the day with Loring Bacon, to come home and tell his aunties good-by. They were caught with their own bait, and Albert and Jimmy, fearing they had carried the joke too far, came galloping over at full speed to prevent our setting out. We saw them coming across the field, and Mett and I hid ourselves, while sister met them with a doleful countenance, pretending that we had already gone and that she was frightened out of her wits. She had rubbed her eyes to make them look
ry's wedding. He says I have changed a great deal, and look just like Mett did then. I suppose I may take this as a double-barreled compliment, as Metta is the beauty of the family and she was then only fifteen, while I am now twenty-four! Oh, how time does fly, and how fast we grow old! But there is one comfort when a woman doesn't depend upon looks; she lasts longer. Capt. Hobbs has got his valentine, and everybody is laughing about it. They were all so sure it came from me that Dr. Conolly and the captain put their heads together and wrote a reply that they were going to send me, but I threw them off the track so completely, that they are now convinced that it came from Merrill Callaway. Even Albert Bacon is fooled, and it is he that told me all Capt. Hobbs and the others said about it, and of their having suspected me. I pretended a great deal of curiosity and asked what sort of poetry it was. Mr. Bacon then repeated some of my own ridiculous rhymes to me. It is a capital
st and the waters are beginning to subside, but the roads are terrible. We have had a mail at last, too, and a long letter from home giving us carte blanche as to future movements; as dear old father expressed it: Go where you please, when you please, do what you please and call on Mr. Farley or Mr. Butler for all the money you need. That is the way I like to be treated. I think now we will go to Chunnennuggee by way of Eufaula and the Chattahoochee. The river trip would be pleasant, and Jenny and Julia Toombs are with their aunt in Eufaula, who has invited us to meet them there. However, our movements are so uncertain that I don't like to make engagements. We will stop a few days in Cuthbert with the Joyners, anyway. March 21, Tuesday. Albany Pouring down rain again, but the carriage had to go to Albany anyway, to meet sister, and Mecca was hurried home by news of the death of her aunt, so I rode in to the station with her. The roads are horrible-covered with water mos
o see it again before its shores are desecrated by Yankee feet. I wish sister would hurry home, on account of the servants. We can't take control over them, and they won't do anything except just what they please. As soon as she had gone, Mr. Ballou, the overseer, took himself off and only returned late this evening. Harriet, Mrs. Green Butler's maid, is the most trifling of the lot, but I can stand anything from her because she refused to go off with the Yankees when Mrs. Butler had her ughbreds, we could see, and Capt. Frazer one of the handsomest men I ever laid my eyes on — a great, big, splendid, fair-haired giant, that might have been a Viking leader if he had lived a thousand years ago. Sister has been so put out by Mr. Ballou that I don't see how she could keep her temper well enough to be polite to anybody. He has packed up and taken himself off, leaving her without an overseer, after giving but one day's notice, and she has the whole responsibility of the plantat
h us till one of the servants could saddle a mule and go with him to show him the road. Sister said she felt mean for not inviting him to spend the night, but she was too tired and worried to entertain another guest now, if the fate of the Confederacy depended on it. His uniform was too fresh and new anyway to look very heroic. Jan. 31, Tuesday Sister and I spent the morning making calls. At the tithing agent's office, where she stopped to see about her taxes, we saw a battalion of Wheeler's cavalry, which is to be encamped in our neighborhood for several weeks. Their business is to gather up and take care of broken-down horses, so as to fit them for use again in baggage trains and the like. At the postoffice a letter was given me, which I opened and read, thinking it was for me. It began Dear Ideal and was signed Yours forever. I thought at first that Capt. Hobbs or Albert Bacon was playing a joke on me, but on making inquiry at the office, I learned that there is a crac
e established courts of justice before which they try offenders, and that they sometimes condemn one of their number to death. It is horrible to think of, but what can we poor Confederates do? The Yankees won't exchange prisoners, and our own soldiers in the field don't fare much better than these poor creatures. Everybody is sorry for them, and wouldn't keep them here a day if the government at Washington didn't force them on us. And yet they lay all the blame on us. Gen. Sherman told Mr. Cuyler that he did not intend to leave so much as a blade of grass in South-West Georgia, and Dr. Janes told sister that he (Sherman) said he would be obliged to send a formidable raid here in order to satisfy the clamors of his army, though he himself, the fiend Sherman, dreaded it on account of the horrors that would be committed. What Sherman dreads must indeed be fearful. They say his soldiers have sworn that they will spare neither man, woman nor child in all South-West Georgia. It is onl
ave heard yet of the reported raid into Florida, and all our writing back and forth is at cross purposes. The latest news is that the Yankees have whipped our forces at Tallahassee, but the waters are so high and communication so uncertain that one never knows what to believe. At any rate, I shall not run till I hear that the enemy are at Thomasville. March 13, Monday Mett, Mecca, and I took a long drive to look at some new muslin dress goods that we heard a countryman down towards Camilla had for sale. They were very cheap-only twenty dollars a yard. Mett and I each bought a dress and would have got more if Mrs. Settles, the man's wife, would have sold them. How they came to let these two go so cheap I can't imagine. I felt as if I were cheating the woman when I paid her 500 dollars in Confederate money for 20 yards of fairly good lawn. We stopped at Gum Pond on the way back and paid a visit. Albert Bacon gave me a beautiful red-bird that he shot for me to trim my hat
Alexander Pope (search for this): chapter 3
val of Mrs. Julia Butler (also called in the diary, Mrs. Green Butler) the widow of Mr. Greenlee Butler, who had died not long before in the army. He was the elder and only brother of my sister's husband. Col. Maxwell, of Gopher Hill, was an uncle of my brother-in-law, the owner of several large plantations, where he was fond of practicing the oldtime Southern hospitality. The Cousin Bolling so frequently mentioned, was Dr. Bolling A. Pope, a stepson of my mother's youngest sister, Mrs. Alexander Pope, of Washington, Ga., the Aunt Cornelia spoken of in a later chapter. He was in Berlin when the war began, where he had spent several years preparing himself as a specialist in diseases of the eye and ear, but returned when hostilities began, and was assigned to duty as a surgeon. The Tallassee Plantation to which reference is made, was an estate owned by my father near Albany, Ga., where the family were in the habit of spending the winters, until he sold it and transferred his prin
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