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Richmond (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
per and make arrangements for their accommodation. Mrs. Meals, Metta, and I hustled out of our rooms and doubled up with sister and the children. Everybody was stowed away somewhere, when, just before bedtime, two more aides, Capt. Warwick, of Richmond, and Capt. Frazer, of Charleston, rode up and were invited to come in, though the house was so crowded that sister had not even a pallet on the floor to offer them. All she could do was to give them some pillows and tell them they were welcome d a day or two longer. I had a good long talk with the two young captains before they left and they were just as nice as they could be. We found that we had a number of common friends, and Capt. Warwick knows quite well the Miss Lou Randolph in Richmond that Garnett writes so much about, and Rosalie Beirne, This lady my brother afterwards married. too. Just before bedtime we were startled by heavy steps and a loud knocking at the front door. Having no white man within three miles, not
Smithville (Arkansas, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
us at the depot, though there were so many of our acquaintances on board that we had no special need of an escort. Mr. George Lawton sat by me all the way from Smithville to Americus, and insisted on our paying his family a visit before leaving South-West Georgia. I wish I could go, for he lives near father's old Tallassee plantuthern sympathies, but his Yankee manners and lingo sorter riles me, as the darkies say, in spite of reason and common sense. He talked religion all the way to Smithville, and parted with some pretty sentiment about the sunbeam I had thrown across his path. I don't enjoy that sort of talk from men; I like dash and flash and firlled in the evening. March 22, Wednesday Up very early and drove to the depot with Mecca. Mr. Godfrey was there and proposed that we should go as far as Smithville with her, and let him drive me out home in the afternoon, but the roads are so bad and the weather so uncertain that I thought I had better go back with sister.
Augusta (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
as it always is, only more so. All the Morgans are there, and Mary Day, and the Gairdners from Augusta, besides a host of what one might call transients, if father was keeping a hotel-friends, acquasons are brave Confederates--which is better than anything else. Mary Day had typhoid fever in Augusta. She is too weak to make the journey from Mayfield to Macon, and all non-combatants have been ordered to leave Augusta, so mother invited her to Haywood. Oh, that dear old home! I know it is sweeter than ever now, with all those delightful people gathered there. One good thing the war has to get back now, since Washington is going to be such a center of interest. If the Yanks take Augusta, it will become the headquarters of the department. Mrs. Butler says a train of 300 wagons runme 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.
Providence, R. I. (Rhode Island, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
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 d Wright's Creek, and even there the water was almost swimming. Mett and I were frightened out of our wits, but Mrs. Sims told us to shut our eyes and trust to Providence,--and Providence and Uncle Aby between them brought us through in safety. At some places in the woods, sheets of water full half a mile wide and from one to twProvidence and Uncle Aby between them brought us through in safety. At some places in the woods, sheets of water full half a mile wide and from one to two feet deep were running across the road, on their way to swell the flood in Flint River. Sister sent a negro before us on a mule to see if the water-courses were passable. We had several bad scares, but reached town in safety a little after dark. Jan. 22. The rains returned with double fury in the night and continued al
Delaware (Delaware, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
w with yellow jessamine. An old man was seated on the bank fishing, as we approached, making a very pretty picture. Feb. 21, Tuesday A letter from Mecca Joyner, saying she is coming to make me a visit, and I must meet her in Albany on Wednesday. Just as I had finished reading it a buggy drove up with Flora Maxwell and Capt. Rust, from Gopher Hill. Flora has a great reputation for beauty, but I think her even more fascinating and elegant than beautiful. Capt. Rust is an exile from Delaware, and a very nice old gentleman, whom the Maxwells think a great deal of. He was banished for helping Southern prisoners to escape across the lines. He tells me that he sometimes had as many as fourteen rebels concealed in his house at one time. Albert Bacon called after tea and told us all about the Hobbs poetry, and teased 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
Columbia (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
natory note.-During the period embraced in this chapter the great black tide of destruction that had swept over Georgia turned its course northward from Savannah to break a few weeks later (Feb. 17) in a cataract of blood and fire on the city of Columbia. At the same time the great tragedy of Andersonville was going on under our eyes; and farther off, in Old Virginia, Lee and his immortals were struggling in the toils of the net that was drawing them on to the tragedy of Appomattox. To put forto stay here, and now that father wants me to stay, I am wild 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 eveni
Scotland (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 3
ce of his guests. He is one of the most aristocratic-looking old gentlemen I ever saw. In manners, appearance, and disposition, he is strikingly like Brother Troup, except that the colonel is very large and commanding, while Brother Troup is small and dapper. He is very handsome-next to Bishop Elliot, one of the finest specimens of Southern manhood I ever saw. It is one of the cases where blood will tell, for he has the best of Georgia in his veins, or to go back further, the best in old Scotland itself. Though over sixty years old, he has never been out of the State, and is as full of whims and prejudices as the traditional old country squire that we read about in English novels. His present wife, Flora's stepmother, is much younger than he, very gay and witty, and escapes all worry by taking a humorous view of him and his crotchets. He and Flora idolize each other, and she is the only person that can do anything with him, and not always even she, when he once gets his head fast
e 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 with. March 16, Thursday Rain, rain, rain, nothing but rain! The river is out of its banks again and all that part of the pla
low and overflows above ground, making a two-storied stream. It is very broad and shallow at that place, and beautifully clear. It would be a charming place for a boating excursion because the water is not deep enough to drown anybody if they should fall overboard-but if the bottom should drop out of the road, as sometimes happens in this limestone country, where in the name of heaven would we go to? Sister and I spent the evening at Mrs. Robert Bacon's. The Camps, the Edwin Bacons, Capt. Wynne, and Mrs. Westmoreland were there. We enjoyed ourselves so much that we didn't break up till one o'clock Sunday morning. Mrs. Westmoreland says she gave Capt. Sailes a letter of introduction to me, thinking I had gone back to Washington. He and John Garnett, one of our far-off Virginia cousins, have been transferred there. Feb. 12, Sunday Spring is already breaking in this heavenly climate, and the weather has been lovely to-day. The yellow jessamine buds begin to show their go
at de bar of God, I heerd a mighty lumber. Hit was my sin fell down to hell Jes' like a clap er thunder. Mary she come runnin‘ by, Tell how she weep an' wonder. Mary washin‘ up Jesus' feet, De angel walkin‘ up de golden street, Run home, believer; oh, run home, believer! Run home, believer, run home. Another one, sung to a kind of chant, begins this way: King Jesus he tell you Fur to fetch ‘im a hoss an' a mule; He tek up Mary behine ‘im, King Jesus he went marchin‘ befo‘. Chorus.- Christ was born on Chris'mus day; Mary was in pain. Christ was born on Chris'mus day, King Jesus was his name. The chorus to another of their songs is: I knoMary was in pain. Christ was born on Chris'mus day, King Jesus was his name. The chorus to another of their songs is: I knowed it was a angel, I knowed it by de groanin‘. I mean to make a collection of these songs some day and keep them as a curiosity. The words are mostly endless repetitions, with a wild jumble of misfit Scriptural allusions, but the tunes are inspiring. They are mostly a sort of weird chant that makes me feel all out
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