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ightforwardness are her greatest charm. Feb. 26, Sunday Flora and the captain have returned to Gopher Hill, whither Metta, Mecca, and I are invited to follow on Friday, when sister goes up to Macon. Jimmy Callaway and his father have just come from Washington with such glowing accounts of the excitement and gayety there that I am distracted to go back home. If father don't write for us to come soon, I think we will go to Chunnenuggee by way of Eufaula and the Chattahoochee, and if Thomas's raiders catch us over in Alabama, father will wish he had let us come home. After dinner I took Mecca over to the Praise House to hear the negroes sing. I wish I was an artist so that I could draw a picture of the scene. Alfred, one of the chief singers, is a gigantic creature, more like an ape than a man. I have seen pictures of African savages in books of travel that were just like him. His hands and feet are so huge that it looks as if their weight would crush the heads of the lit
ora Maxwell and Capt. Rust, from Gopher Hill. Flora has a great reputation for beauty, but I thinkse fox hunts at Chunnenuggee Ridge last fall. Flora is a famous horsewoman, and I know she must bee her greatest charm. Feb. 26, Sunday Flora and the captain have returned to Gopher Hill, ten's Station, only twelve miles from Albany. Flora and Capt. Rust were there to meet us with convcetious remarks about the ladies, that I asked Flora if he was a widower-he seemed too silly to be arlor. The general is consumedly in love with Flora, and Mr. Baldwin equally so with his bottle, bback to the house, and the ride was glorious. Flora and I amused ourselves by going through the woesday I went up to Americus yesterday, with Flora and Capt. Rust, to see Cousin Boiling about myn time to see the train moving off without us. Flora had another engagement, that caused her to decwas first expected in Americus with his bride, Flora went to town to put the house in order for the[4 more...]
Albany, Ga., where the family were in the habit of spending the winters, until he sold it and transferred his principal planting interests to the Yazoo Delta in Mississippi. Mt. Enon was a little log church where services were held by a refugee Baptist minister, and, being the only place of worship in the neighborhood, was attended by people of all denominations. The different homes and families mentioned were those of well-known planters in that section, or of refugee friends who had temporat our mail. There is always something the matter to keep us from getting the mail at that little Gum Pond postoffice. Mrs. Sims is water-bound with us, and it is funny to hear her and Mrs. Meals, one a red-hot Episcopalian, the other a red-hot Baptist, trying to convert each other. If the weather is any sign, Providence would seem to favor the Baptists just now. Mrs. Sims almost made me cry with her account of poor Mary Millen-her brother dead, their property destroyed; it is the same sa
to go. I have written him that he had better order me back home, for then I would not care so much about going. Now that the Yanks have passed by Augusta and are making their way to Columbia and Charleston, I hope they will give Georgia a rest. Feb. 23, Thursday The picnic was stupid. It must be that I am getting tired of seeing the same faces so often. Albert Bacon and Jim Chiles came home with us, and we enjoyed the evening. Capt. Rust is a dear old fellow, and Miss Connor and Maj. Camp added a little variety. Capt. Rust and Mr. Bacon proposed a ride across country for the morning, but there is not a riding habit in the family, nor a piece of cloth big enough to make one. I ruined mine in those fox hunts at Chunnenuggee Ridge last fall. Flora is a famous horsewoman, and I know she must be a good rider, for her every movement is grace itself. She is one of those people that gains upon you on acquaintance. She is so out of the commonplace. There is something stately a
Will Pope (search for this): chapter 3
ed that we should stay to dinner, and her attempt to have it served early was so unsuccessful that Capt. Rust and I got to the station just in time to see the train moving off without us. Flora had another engagement, that caused her to decline Mrs. Pope's invitation, so she made the train, but the captain and I had nothing for it but to spend the night in Americus and kill the time as best we could. I was repaid for the annoyance of getting left by the favorable report Cousin Bolling gave of ricus with his bride, Flora went to town to put the house in order for them, and asked Aunt Lizzie to cook dinner for the newly married pair. What you talkin‘ ‘bout, chile? was the answer. I wouldn't cook fur Jesus Christ to-day, let alone Dr. Pope. Poor, down-trodden creature! what a text for Mrs. Stowe! She has relented since then, however, and Cousin Bessie says often sends her presents of delicious rolls and light bread. She took me into favor at once, told me all about her rheuma
I. Across Sherman (search for this): chapter 3
present chapter opens with allusions to an expedition sent out by Sherman from Savannah under Gen. Kilpatrick, having for its object the des they had been able. In the fall of 1864, when it was feared that Sherman would send a raid to free the prisoners and turn them loose upon tsed to feel very brave about Yankees, but since I have passed over Sherman's track and seen what devastation they make, I am so afraid of then 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 blaof 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 readed it on account of the horrors that would be committed. What Sherman dreads must indeed be fearful. They say his soldiers have sworn t gotten to be the great thoroughfare of the Confederacy now, since Sherman has cut the South Carolina R. R. and the only line of communicati
d writing some letters when Gen. Graves and Mr. Baldwin This name, for obvious reasons, is fictneral is consumedly in love with Flora, and Mr. Baldwin equally so with his bottle, but is nice-looldest luxuriance. I took my first row with Mr. Baldwin, and wished myself back on shore before we that Mr. and Mrs. Warren, with Gen. Graves, Mr. Baldwin, and Clint Spenser and Joe Godfrey from Albnd had just made ourselves respectable when Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Spenser, having tired of their wildwent in the buggy with Joe Godfrey. He and Mr. Baldwin each invited me to take a row. I didn't go with Mr. Baldwin. March 8, Wednesday I went up to Americus yesterday, with Flora and Capt. R just before the storm burst. Gen. Graves, Mr. Baldwin, Joe Godfrey, Albert Bacon, and Jim Chiles er our night's dissipation, and soon after, Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Bacon came over and played cards tidepot in Albany, Albert Bacon, Joe Godfrey, Mr. Baldwin, and Gen. Graves were waiting for us. We dr
Bolling A. Pope (search for this): chapter 3
doing good. The household was afterwards increased by the arrival 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
words of hatred in every language under heaven were lumped together into one huge epithet of detestation, they could not tell how I hate Yankees. They thwart all my plans, murder my friends, and make my life miserable. Jan. 13th, Friday Col. Blake, a refugee from Mississippi, and his sister-in-law, Miss Connor, dined with us. While the gentlemen lingered over their wine after dinner, we ladies sat in the parlor making cigarettes for them. The evening was spent at cards, which bored me not a little, for I hate cards; they are good for nothing but to entertain stupid visitors with, and Col. Blake and Miss Connor do not belong in that category. Mett says she don't like the old colonel because he is too pompous, but that amuses me,--and then, he is such a gentleman. The newspapers bring accounts of terrible floods all over the country Three bridges are washed away on the Montgomery & West Point R. R., so that settles the question of going to Montgomery for the present. Our
ernoon, bringing letters, and the letters brought permission to remain in South-West Georgia as long as we please, the panic about Kilpatrick having died out. I would like to be at home now, if the journey were not such a hard one. Garnett and Mrs. Elzey are both there, and Mary Day is constantly expected. I have not seen Garnett for nearly three years. He has resigned his position on Gen. Gardiner's staff, and is going to take command of a battalion of galvanized Yankees, with the rank of Lie little fish that one can catch them in the hand, and the swans go there to feed on them. The whole wood is fragrant with yellow jessamines and carpeted with flowers. Another letter from home that makes me more eager than ever to return. Gen. Elzey and staff are at our house, and the town is full of people that I want to see. March 2, Thursday We left Pine Bluff at eleven o'clock and reached the Blue Spring in time for lunch. Albert Bacon and Jimmy Chiles were there to meet us. Ha
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