h~rou h Some vent ul rears 
THE BRADFORD COAT OF ARMS
THE BRADFORD COAT OF ARMS 
*1.
m
THROUGH SOME
EVENTFUL YEARS
BY SUSAN BRADFORD EPPES
(MRS. NICHOLAS WARE! EPfES'S)
AUTHOR OF "THE NEGRO OF
THE OLD SOUTH"
TALLAHASSEE,
FLORIDA
"Oh, wad some power
The giftie gie us,
To see oursel's
As ithers see us."
PRESS OF
THE J. W. BURKE COMPANY
MACON, GEORGIA
1926
-. —,.%
I
e..
I 
COPYRIGHT, 1926
BY MRS. NICHOLAS WARE EPPES 
i- - -   -
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Bradford Goat of Arms ------------------ Frontispiece
Mrs. tWhite-Spunner, of Belfast, Ireland ___ Facing page 9I
My Soldier in Gray -------------------- Facing page 318
The Eppes Coat of Arms --------------- Facing page 338
THROUGH SOME EVENTFUL YEARS
PART I
CHAPTER                                                  PAGE
I Social Life in the Old South -----------------— I I
II When the Serpent Entered Eden ---------------    30
III When the Abolitionist Editor Came to Grief __38
IV A Few Explanatory Words ----------------— 43
V  Leaves from a Child's Diary ----------------— 46
VI A Summer in North Carolina --------------— 67
VII Leaves from the Diary -----------------------       72
VIII Wedding Bells -------------------------— 94
IX Home to Florida —------------------------— __       II2
X  Leaves from the Diary  ------------------------     9
XI Politics in Eighteen Hundred and Sixty ------— I28
V
IN
7"i
f."D 
Table of Contents-Continued
XII Florida Secedes -------------------------- I33
XIII Leaves from the Diary --------------------- I35
XIV WVar and Sorrow ------------------------- 137
XV Refugees from Tennessee -------------------— I95
XVI Captain John Yates Beall --------------------— _213
XVII The Department of South Carolina, Georgia
and Florida_ —--------------------------— 220
XVIII "Marthy" ----------------------------------- 242
XIX When We Walked in Gethsemane ----------— 265
XX Leaves from the Diary -------------------— 270
THE YEARS OF RECONSTRUCTION
PART II
Days of Change _ -------------------------- 339
The Birth of the New South  ---------------- 34I
Negro Rights --------------------------— 354
The Ku Klux Klan ----------------------- 358
The Southern Woman's Memorial Association --— 363
The Hospitality of the New South _ —---------— 367
A New Beginning -------------------------— 370
vi
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII 
DEDICATION
TO MY DEAR CHILDREN, WHO HAVE BEEN A JOY
AND A PLEASURE TO ME EVER SINCE THEY FIRST
OPENED THEIR EYES TO THE LIGHT; WHO
HAVE BEEN MY CONSTANT COMPANIONS
THROUGH THE PASSING YEARS, WHICH
HAVE KNOWN M A N Y CHANGES
AND A R E NOW MY TENDER
GUIDES AS I TRAVEL THE
WESTERN SLOPE, WHICH
LEADS TO HOME
TO THESE DEAR CHILDREN THIS BOOK IS
LOVINGLY DEDICATED
By
THEIR ADORING MOTHER
.a  
INTRODUCTION
To those who have read "The Negro of the Old South"
this book needs no introduction and no apology. It really
seems to be needed, the one to complete the other. To
those who have not, we wish to say a few words.
The white people and the negroes of the Old South were
so intimately associated that it is impossible to tell the
story of the one without a large mixture of the other.
In these days, when it is quite the fashion to rail against
"The Free Negroes," we, of the Old South, to whom
many of them are still dear, take but little part in this.
Sentiment is strong in the Southern heart and we cannot
forget their faithful service in the days, or the years of
war, when, but for them, our women and children, our
men in camp and on the field of battle, would have starved
and suffered. Ungrateful would we be if we put a ban
on the entire race because some have proved themselves
unworthy. In these pages we have adhered as strictly to
the truth as in our former narrative-we deal not in
fiction-all is fact.
Life is a mixture of sorrow and joy,
There is no bliss without alloy,
There's never a rose without its thorn,
No mortal has yet to perfection been born;
But the dear OLD FOLKS are morally sure
That all was perfect in DAYS OF YORE.
a  
THROUGH SOME EVENTFUL
YEARS
PART I
CHAPTER I
THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE OLD SOUTH
N the middle of the last century the South had
reached the zenith of prosperity and power.  Except in almost inaccessible mountain regions, or on
some desolate coast plains, there was none who was
poverty-stricken, or so few that they escaped mention
and were so well provided for by their wealthy neighbors that they were poverty-stricken in name only.
There was a certain class in the south, corresponding
to the yeomanry of England and no doubt descended
from them, that occupied a position peculiarly its own.
Respected by the class above them and treated with all
consideration, they still did not stand on an equal social
footing.  They were possessed of many desirable qualities, of good habits and, for the most part, they were
strictly religious and true to family ties. Occasionally
one of these men could be induced to take over the management of a plantation for some wealthier neighbor
and the planter, who was so fortunate as to secure the
services of such a one was the envy of his contemporaries.  But by far the greater part of the South was
composed of men of wealth and'often of distinction as
well. With abundant means and leisure for study, the
men and women of the Old South stood unequalled in
education, accomplishments, and mental ability. Added
(II)
-a 
Through Some Eventful Years
to this they had a graciousness of manner and that true
politeness, which is so sweetly expressed in a little
couplet often taught to children in the primary grades,
"Politeness is to do and say
The kindest things, in the kindest way."
Here was a good material for Social Life, where, "In
honor preferring one another," is the oil which makes
the wheels go round.
The hospitality of the Old South is far-famed; and
yet, there is a reason for this, which we have never
heard mentioned. The original settlers of our country
were not so very dissimilar. To our mind the later
difference in characteristics was caused by differing circumstances. Those who settled in bleak New England
suffered many hardships, and not the least among these
hardships was an actual scarcity of food and this condition lasted for many years. Even when a modicum
of prosperity was theirs, it was not so great that they
could afford to "take no thought for the morrow." It
is very difficult to be hospitable when the where-withall is lacking, as it was, without doubt, in these early
days. This close care for daily expenditures became a
deepseated habit, and we know that habit becomes
second nature.
In the South it was different; the climate was mild,
vegetation was quick to come and it also came in great
abundance; fruits ripened on every side; birds and
flowers filled the soul with joy, even in the midst of the
hardships, which in one way or another, came to all
new settlers in the New World.
Was it any wonder that these settlers in the favored
Southland held out a generous hand to all? Their very
hardships and discomforts made them the more ready
to help others. Lonely at times themselves, they opened
their homes to others, who also knew the pangs of
12 
The Social Life of the Old South
homesickness and longing-"the more the merrier." So
it came about that crowds collected and were made
welcome.  Such, to our mind, was the way in which
the lavish hospitality of the South was acquired. However that may be, it certainly was the case that in the
mid-century days of which we write, there was nowhere
on earth such a social structure as the cultured men and
women of the Old South had built up.
On every plantation stood a Mansion of many roomand comfortable furnishings, and besides this, small
houses, of one or two or three rooms, were provided for
the overflow from the Mansion House. Large stables
and carriage houses there were also, and extra room
in the "negro quarter," for the coachmen and servants
of the visitors, for this was an era of "House Parties."
With colored servitors, enough for every demand, with
horses for both pleasure and service, and with all the
luxuries of life easily obtainable, it was but little trouble
to the "Lady of the Manor" to have her house full of
guests and to entertain them royally.
So it came about that company came in crowds; they
came mostly in carriages, they brought with them their
maids and men, usually in a baggage wagon, along with
all the necessary belongings of the visitors. Company
in the Mansion also meant company in the Quarter,
and place and food to be provided for the horses as well.
Think of it!  You, who, in these latter days, groan
over the thought of "company to stay."
Often these visitors were relatives, sometimes dear
friends, but occasionally they were barely acquaintances,
who presumed upon the well-known hospitality to make
for themselves a good time without expense.
The weeks preceding and following Christmas were
a round of gaiety, a party somewhere every night, and
dinings were equally popular. The Old South excelled
in horsemanship, and equestrian parties were an every
I3 
Through Some Eventful Years
day sight, along the beautiful and romantic drives and
bridle paths of this God-favored land. We give you
a little poem which tells of a Florida Christmas of long
ago:
CHRISTMAS EVE AT PINE HILL PLANTATION
Memory is a kindly friend,
She brings us back the vanished hours,
When Time, the thief, would have us think,
His footsteps only trod on flowers.
'Tis Christmas Eve, young hearts are gay,
The windows glow with mellow light,
Vines twine about the polished stair
And everywhere are roses bright.
Holly boughs, with berries red,
Upon the walls are seen,
With the tiny, shiny Yupon, like
Rubies'mid the green.
Mistletoe, with berries white,
Hangs high in the grand old hall
And the flame of many candles
Casts a beautiful light o'er all.
To linger'neath the mistletoe
No youth nor maid would dare,
For Aunt Robinson watches the young folks
From a seat on the vine-wreathed stair.
The double doors are open wide,
Guests come crowding through the gates,
Inside, the fires burn brightly
In the fine old brass-trimmed grates.
M\other's music fills the air,
Perfect in time and measure,
The floors are cleared and everything
Awaits the dancer's pleasure;
The boys all seek their partners
When the rhythmic sounds they hear,
Each couple turn with one accord
And dance to the tune of "The Forked Deer."
I4 
The Social Life of the Old South
Both "North" and "South Carolina"
Are danced with Christmas glee,
Then "Molly, Put the Kettle on
And We'll All Take Tea;"
"Fisher's Hornpipe" speeds our steps,
Which makes it very handy
To execute some brilliant stunts
For "Yankee Doodle Dandy."
Then come quadrilles, as stately
As Grandmother's minuet;
Next, like a crowd of children,
We merrily dance the "Coquette."
Tired, we stop for supper  So many good things to eatBut time is short, and most of us find
We have little wings on our feet.
Waltzing is not in favor here,
Yet a venturesome lad and lassie,
Are circling smoothly around the room,
To the strains of "Tallahassee."
Mother's fingers again touch the keys,
"Sir Roger de Coverley" rules the hour
Young and old stand up on the floor,
Moved by the music's compelling power;
For who of us all fatigue could feel
When Mother played the "Virginia Reel?"
The dance is over-goodnights are saidPut out the lights and go to bed;
'Tis time for Santa Claus' reindeer sled;
'Twill soon be Christmas Morning.
With Christmas Morning came the Christmas Tree.
On this tree were gifts for everyone beneath the rooftree of the old home; generally gifts of money value,
as well as tokens of friendship and love.
Sometimes sorrow came to one of these luxurious
homes, for grief is no respecter of persons. In these
trying hours there were no gay crowds, no feasting
I 5 
Through Some Eventful Years
this would have been mockery-but quietly came kind,
sympathetic friends, and nothing that the hand of love
could do was lacking. If the shadow of death rested on
one of these homes love, which never wearied, did all
that was possible to comfort and console.
The social life of the South. was not entirely within
the home; every summer preparations began early in
the season for a general flitting to "The Springs" or
perhaps instead of the springs, it was the sea-side. In
either case the getting ready was a work of time. Orders were sent to New York, dressmakers were called
in, the home-seamstresses were put to work and such
studying of styles from Godey's Ladies' Book. Trying
on, careful fitting, the tucks, the frills, the shirrings,
flowers appliqued on silken robes, the finest of lacetrimmed lingerie, and real lace at that, for an imitation
in lace or jewels was not permissible.
After  weeks  of this strenuous toil, trunks were
packed by maids, who were as proud of the fine clothes
contained therein as if they, instead of the mistress,
were to wear them. When there were children in the
family this work was greatly increased, for "Mammy"
never willingly allowed her "Chile" to be out-dressed
by anyone's else. "A vain people, these Southerners,"
you say?-Well, perhaps so.
Mammy and the maids had their preparations to
make, too; for they must be the very pink of neatness
to be around their "white folks." A beautiful sight
all this made, when the resort was at last reached. The
youths and maidens, vivacious and bright, their native
beauty set off by the becoming costumes; the fathers of
families, dressed in the unique styles of the day, high
collars, with many folds of the finest white lawn, skilfully arranged about the neck, the elaborate shirt front,
the neat fitting suit of French broadcloth, the best procurable, turned-sole boots, which shone like unto a
i6 
The Social Life of the Old South
mirror; to crown all this, a high, silk beaver hat. The
mothers, handsomely gowned in materials suited to
their complexion and position, gracious, cordial, with
a sweet dignity, and yet, withal a little anxious. The
grandfathers, white-haired and stately, dressed stylishly, of course, but showing a slightly greater desire
for comfort as well, for their clothes of handsomest
material, do not fit quite so closely, the boots, just as
shiney but easier pattern. Courtly they were and given
to complimentary speeches. They liked to dance too,
did these gray-haired Cavaliers, and many a flattering
whisper was breathed into girlish ears, as they threaded
the mazes of the dance.   Sweet, harmless flattery,
meaning nothing save the tribute of age to lovely youth.
And the grandmothers! We must pause for a fresh
supply of words, words which are adequate to describe
their charm and grace. Gowned in the handsomest
of materials, with priceless lace draped about their
shoulders, a cap of this same lace crowning their snowy
tresses, while diamonds shone resplendent, wherever
good taste allowed a diamond to shine. How sweet
their voices, how winning their ways, how they beamed
upon the young folks, who, in turn, smiled back at them
and softened to confidence under the kindly influence
Keen eyes too, these grandmothers had, for nowhere
in all the world was there ever a stricter chaperonage
than the Old South demanded and at "The Springs"
temptation was great. There were drives through forest
roads; there were horse-back rides, where one could
speed up or loiter as the case required; there were long
walks through shady lanes and, in the intervals of the
dance, there were short strolls in the cool of evening,
or they sat on the broad piazzas, while the Southern
Moon looked down on happy lovers.
Like the hummingbird, flitting from flower to flower,
these pleasure-seekers were not stationary, but all con
I7 
Through Some Eventful Years
tent one day, the next would find them preparing to
depart. Someone had been telling of the delights of
the WVhite Sulphur this summer, or a party coming
in from the sea-side would tempt them to the surf and
rolling tide.  So, Amy would collect the various belongings, Malinda would pack the trunks, Godfrey
would bring the carriage to the door and another merry crowd would take the road for "green fields and
pastures new," while Starling followed on with the
proverbial "Big box, little box, bandbox and bundle,"
conveyed in a vehicle called, in those days, "A Democrat."   This was nothing more nor less than a high
spring wagon, roomy and comfortable and drawn by
a pair of sturdy horses. Through Virginia, North
Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee these
travelers, or such as these, were a common sight during
the Hummer months.
Then, with the first warning of coming Winter they
would turn their faces homeward again, just as anxious
to get back as they had been to leave home. Back to
the plantations to make ready for the festivities of the
winter season, to get the children back to their studies,
to enjoy, once more, the comforts of home. For they
returned to homes which were kept in beautiful order
during the absence of the owners, spotlessly clean, luxuriously comfortable, and were welcomed by smiling
black faces and willing hands.  These relieved the
home-comers of every care, even removing the wraps
and bonnets, as their "white folks" sank into easy
chairs and listened with rapt attention to the happenings, while they were away. Memory calls up Mammy's
tender touches as she divested us of travelling apparel,
bathed us gently and laid us in our little bed in all its
gleaming whiteness. Nothing like that, where we had
been, and surely nothing like the goodnight hug Mammy gave us ere she blew out the light.
i 8 
The Social Life of the Old South
Oh, for "the days that are no more." Many and
varied were the amusements of the next few months.
In the early Spring there was always a tournament, fol lowed at night by a Fancy Ball, where the successful
knight, who had taken the greatest number of rings,
crowned his chosen ladye faire the Queen of Love and
Beauty. Would that I had an enchanted pen from
fairyland, instead of this prosaic typewriter, that I
might do justice to this, most charming of all entertainments.
Riding out from Tallahassee, along the Thomasville Road, look to your right, where you will see a
rather unusual valley with a high hill on either side.
We say a rather unusual valley because it lies in a
straight, unbroken stretch for quite a distance.  In
days gone by, these two hills were crowned by lovely
woods; at the time the tournament took place the dogwood was in bloom and so numerous were these beautiful trees that the hills seemed covered with a lacy veil.
Yellow jasmine gave a touch of gold and the turf beneath was white with the delicate houstonia.
Southern men were said to be "born horsemen," if
they were not so born they lost no time in learning, and
every Southern boy rode fearlessly and gracefully.
Every gentleman owned a riding horse and great was
his pride in his favorite. Petted and loved, horse and
rider were almost as one and, when these well-trained
men and horses appeared upon the tournament field,
it was a grand sight. Each one selected some character
to personate and each knight wore his ladye's colors.
The characters were well-chosen; the costumes handsome and tasteful; both horses and riders were beautifully decorated.
Upon an open space next to Tallahassee, on a height
which commanded a view of the entire length of this
valley, carriages and other equipages of every description, filled by an eager, excited throng, collected; far
I9 
Through Some Eventful Years
down the valley an arch had been constructed and, suspended from it, was a small ivory ring; on the right
hand was the judges' stand, where six judges sat in
state. Far up the wooded slope on the right, hidden
by the thick woods, stood the knights on their impatient steeds, reined in, awaiting the sound of the
bugle and the loud voice of the Herald, as he shouts out
the name of each knight. The crowd, too, is growing
restless, when suddenly the clear notes of the bugle call
all to attention, "The Knight of the Lone Star," shouts
the Herald, and the knight comes forth, on a milk-white
horse, clad from head to foot in gleaming white satin,
with a large star blazing upon his breast. The blonde
wearer is conscious that he is looking his best-no touch
of anything but this dazzling whiteness except a bouquet
of violets on his left lapel, his Ladye's Colors, his guerdon. Like a flash he rides down the valley, his lance
poised and he bears off the ring, amid the clapping and
shouting of the excited multitude. Proudly he rides
down the course and draws rein before the judges'
stand, presenting the ring on the point of his lance.
And so the first score is made.
Again the bugle sounds, "Knight of the Sun, Moon
and Stars," calls the Herald. Dashing down the hillside he comes and, if the beautiful severity of the first
knight had called forth admiration, all thought of him
is lost in the amusement afforded by this astounding
figure. On his head the sun shines brightly, on his
broad back is a moon, which is evidently full, and stars
of every size and all degrees of brilliancy are plentifully sprinkled.  With poised lance he dashes forward through the arch; but alas-the ring still hangs
undisturbed. With bowed head he rides slowly up to
the stand and another score was made. Many jests
are made at his expense, one of the spectators asking
if "the sun had suffered an eclipse?"
The winding notes of the Bugle-"Robert Bruce,"
20 
The Social Life of the Old South
shouts the Herald, and Robert Bruce, a veritable Scot
in the plaid of his house, dashes into view, lance
drawn, and bears off the ring in triumph.
"The Unknown Knight," shouts the Herald, and
from the wooded depths flashes forth a most imposing
figure. A large horse of midnight darkness, his flanks
shining like satin. A splendidly proportioned figure,
clad in gleaming armor sits on this magnificent charger;
his cap is on, his visor down; every minute detail has
been carried out. The Unknown Knight has spared
neither time, thought, nor money on his disguise. We,
who loved the history of the Middle Ages, look on
entranced; on every tongue is the question, "Who can
it be?" He rides like the wind. He has been plan.
ning this for weeks, but now, alas, he is to find that even
one confidant is oftentimes one too many. His mother
is the only sharer of his secret as she sits beside the
Princess Murat in her landau. Losing her self-possession in the excitement of the moment, she stands upon
the seat of the landau and screamed, at the top of her
voice, "It's Phil-just Phil-nobody but Phil."  We
are all sorry for him, to have his dream so rudely dispelled.
There were many more contestants, but we will mention only one. After several others had shown their
skill the Herald called "The Knight of the Mist."
Slowly he came forth from the lacy boughs of the dogwood; he did not take the beaten path-once in the open
he drew rein as if to give to all an opportunity to take
in the significance of his dress. The horse he rode was
a dapple-gray, slender and graceful, as beautiful in
form as if he had come direct from "Araby the Blest,"
his rider wore a costume of gray velvet; the gray of the
clouds we sometimes see at evening by the sea-shore,
when water and cloud are almost indistinguishable on
the sky-line. A soft felt hat of the same hue was caught
up at the side with a silver buckle. Wreathed about
2I 
Through Some Eventful Years
him in graceful lines was yard after yard of gray tulle,
giving the impression of wreaths of mist rising in the
sunshine. Just over his heart his ladye's colors appeared; a diamond ring, from which flashed rainbow
lights at every motion of the rider, was fastened by a
rose-colored ribbon.
Doffing his hat to the assembled multitude, he puts
spurs to his horse and fairly flew through the long
valley to the arch, and bore away the ring.
This ended the first round, each knight had three
chances. Again the bugle's call and the Herald's voice
summoned the young chivalry of Florida to prove the
claim each one had made for his "Ladye Faire." Again
the Misty Knight carried off the honors. The third
round was called, Robert Bruce and the Knight in
Gray each had taken the ring every time-it was a tie.
Once again the clear notes of the bugle called the
knights to combat-this time only two took part-two
rings were hung within the huge arch and "Robert
Bruce of Scotland" and the "Knight of the Mist" came
riding furiously abreast, with lances couched and faces
set. On they came-excitement had reached its height,
which one will win? Alas! for the Bruce had lost.
He dropped out and the knight from fairyland bore
the ring aloft upon his lance and rode slowly down the
lines.
Again the twenty knights are lined up before the
judge's stand. As they had been before the contest
began that they might be instructed in the duty of a
true knight.  The judge who addressed them might
have risen from the grave where he had "lain for centuries dead," so well did his robes correspond with the
pictures of the past and so knightly was the language
he used. Now they had come that he might address
the victor and reward his valor. Beautifully he spoke
and then came the ending, "Sir Knight, you have done
valorously; into your keeping I now give this crown,
22 
The Social Life of the Old South
place it upon the brow of your Ladye Faire, and proclaim to all the world that she, and she alone, is the
Queen of Love and Beauty."
With words which would have sounded well from
the lips of Sir Galahad himself, the knight received
the crown and, bearing it on the tip of his lance, he rode
down the lines looking closely into every carriagecunning fellow, he knew just where she was. It was a
blushing girl before whom he finally stopped. At his
low-spoken words she bowed her head and he placed
the crown upon her sunny tresses. An open barouch
drawn by glossy bays drew near, and Sir Knight assisted his Queen to alight and seated her therein; Robert
Bruce had found his maid of honor and she, too, was
seated beside the Queen. The respective knights rode
on either side and the others followed, riding two and
two.
Oh, the cheers, the enthusiasm and then the hurrying
off to complete some last little preparations for the
fancy ball, held that night in the Hall of Representatives in Florida's Capitol. What this Ball was like
we will leave to your imagination, but it is safe to say
that the youth and beauty of old Tallahassee tripped
"the light, fantastic toe" until "the wee sma' hours."
In those halcyon days there came to Tallahassee a
very attractive young lady from Vermont; she came
to take the position of governess in one of our most
prominent families and she soon took part in all, or
almost all, of the gayeties of our little town. At one
of these tournaments, which were of yearly occurrence,
she was crowned Queen; quite a small girl at the time,
the writer remembers well the circumstances. This lady
married one of Tallahassee's most noted physicians and
they finally made their home in Jacksonville. Happening to be in this latter city two years ago, we bethought
ourselves of this friend, whom we had not seen for
forty years. She gave us a warm welcome; we talked
23 
Through Some Eventful Years
of friends who were left to us here; we recalled those
who had "gone on" and after awhile we asked if she
remembered the day she was crowned Queen of Love
and Beauty? Of course she remembered-what woman
could forget? We talked it over and by this time we
had other listeners. We told of the current issue of
"The Floridian and Journal" in which a full description
was given of the brilliant affairs; winding up with this
paragraph: "If the boys of Vermont did as much execution with their guns as the Green Mountain girls
do with their eyes, it is no wonder they have left such
a record on the pages of history."
The dear old lady's eyes filled with tears, she laid
her hand upon ours and whispered, "I am so glad you
came, the weight of years seems to have rolled away.
I feel almost young again." In a few weeks more she
was brought back to Tallahassee to leave it no more
forever. We shall always be glad we made that visit.
We have spoken of the strict chaperonage practised
in the South; parents had leisure to look after their
children, not only the little ones-to these "mammy"
could attend; but the lads and lassies of a larger growth.
In most families there was a middle-aged relative, usually a spinster, who, though possessed of many charms,
had not seen fit to marry. To parents the aid such
a relative could render was simply invaluable. In the
household at Pine Hill this place was filled by "Aunt
Robinson," as she was called by all the young people
of the entire family connection. She had a history and
it is well worth telling. She was the daughter of an
English clergyman, refined, educated, accomplished and
beautiful.
In the year I8II Captain James Robinson was in
command of a United States Man-of-War and for three
years he had been aboard his ship and when his "shipleave" reached him he was in Liverpool and, glad to
have the opportunity of seeing something of "The
24 
The Social Life of the Old South
Mother Country," he stopped a while. Here he met
and loved Maria Clement and they were married and
life looked lovely to them.
A year later Captain Robinson was summoned to his
ship, as war between the United States and England
had been declared. Of course it was a hurried trip and
Mrs. Robinson could not accompany him. Three
months later, with her six weeks' old son, she sailed for
Philadelphia to join her husband. As the ship she was
on sailed into the harbor his ship was sailing out. They
passed so close that she could see him distinctly and she
held her baby up that he might see his little son.
Captain Robinson was killed in the first engagement
and she was left alone in a strange land, homeless and
almost penniless. She was told that her husband had
sisters in Enfield, North Carolina; it took all she had
to pay her way to them and when she got there she
found that they, too, were in straitened circumstances
and obliged to work hard to keep body and soul together and she took part in the daily work. One day
the Governor's carriage drove up to the house. Her
little boy, a strikingly handsome child, was playing
around the door and the Governor's lady was pleased
with him and asked some questions. His mother came
out, was introduced and there and then began a friendship, which was lifelong. Arrangements were made for
the aunts to take care of the child and Mrs. Robinson
took the position of governess to the little girls of the
Branch family.
She proved to be most satisfactory and Mrs. Bradford, the mistress of Pine Hill, was her oldest pupil.
In the meantime, Mrs. Robinson had, with some assistance from friends, given her son a fine education, he
studied medicine in Philadelphia and when, in I832,
the Branch and Bradford families came to Florida, the
young doctor and his mother came with them.
Tallahassee society welcomed him warmly, and the
25 
Through Some Eventful Years
next year he was married to Mary, daughter of Gov  ernor William P. Duval. The young couple, accom panied by the devoted mother, settled at St. Joseph,
at that time holding forth great promise. A few years
later a tidal wave wrought destruction to the town and
then yellow fever swept the remainder of its citizens
off the face of the earth.
Dr. Robinson was buried there and his mother, with
his young wife and little daughter returned to Talla hassee. After that time she made her home at Pine
Hill.
As time wore on she became more cheerful and great
was the assistance she rendered her whilom pupil in
raising her daughters. No Spanish duenna was ever
more lynx-eyed or severe than Aunt Robinson, and we
strongly suspected that she had eyes in the back of her
head, sometimes wondering if she had ever, ever car ried on the least little bit of a flirtation, or, in all her
young days, ever cast a "come hither" look at any boy.
We did not dare to do any of those things.  The house
was large, it had been built with a view to entertaining
and the rooms opened into each other in such a manner
as to give to one, sitting in the wide hall, an uninterrupted view of all. Aunt Robinson's favorite seat was
in this hall and if dancing was going on she sat on the
broad, winding stair and we who danced below knew
she saw every movement, every glance. We were pretty well guarded, you may be sure. Tall and commanding, with a figure still erect and stately, handsome, too,
in spite of advancing years, always well-dressed, our
chaperon was one we could not fail to respect and
obey. We sometimes resented her uncompromising
attitude toward youth and its failings. We did not think
aunt Robinson had ever been young; we did not know,
however, until long after the many trials she had endured.
There were things our parents never discussed in our
25 
The Social Life of the Old South
presence; one of these was money. Never had we heard
it intimated that wealth made one better, or poverty
made one less desirable; personality was the criterion;
personality and family with great stress laid upon
this latter qualification. So we grew up attaching no
importance whatever to the prestige of wealth, nay
more, we did not know it existed.   Our grandfather
was given to quotations, one of his favorites was this:
"Honor and fame from no condition rise,
Act well your part, there all the honor lies."
Another we often heard from his lips was:
"He who steals my purse steals trash,
'Tis his,'twas mine, it has been slave to thousands,
But he who filches from me my good name,
Takes that which not enriches him, yet leaves me poor indeed."
Raised in such an atmosphere it is not to be wondered at that we thought little of poverty or riches. It
was the custom in our home, and doubtless was in other
homes as well, when we wanted the cash for any purpose to open our purses and lay them on our father's
desk, they were never left empty and when we saw the
purse was closed we knew we might safely take it away.
Now-a-days an allowance is the thing, but money was
given to us as we needed it and while we enjoyed the
spending, it was a matter of little moment.
That wealth does make a difference, we learned ill
later years. The very first intimation we had that one
was judged by the amount of.money he possessed, came
as a distinct shock.
It was in the Spring of I865, on the 9th of April
that General Lee surrendered the Army of Northern
Virginia and this was quickly followed by the fall of
the Confederacy. We will not tell you here how we
grieved over "The Lost Cause."  At that time we were
standing
"Where the brook and river meet."
27 
Through Some Eventful Years
In the Old South there was no fixed time for a young
girl to "enter society," in fact it was often said that
Southern children entered society at birth. Mammy
would bring her nursling into the parlor to see company,
before the mother could leave her room; the baby was
always an important member of the family. As the little
one grew large, mammy grew prouder and much more
strict. Her child was taught all the points of goodbreeding, the polite salutation, the modest answer when
spoken to, the quiet demeanor. When the child remained unnoticed was the rule, not as now, the exception. The reason for this is readily to be perceived,
mammy was there, looking on, and woe be to the unlucky one who dared to be pert, or forward, or, as
mammy would express it, "fergit yer manners." This
goes far toward explaining the modest demeanor of
those ante-bellum days.
There was a custom in the social regime of the Old
South, which we have deeply deplored, that is the way
in which New Year's Day was observed.  It was "a
day at home" for Southern ladies, a beautifully appointed table stood in every parlor, on this table was
the richest of plum cakes, beautifully ornamented;
small cakes of various kinds were also served.  But
alas for "tee-totalers," as those opposed to drinking,
in those days, were called. A large punch bowl held
the place of honor in the centre of the table. A capacious silver ladle was in this bowl, glasses of handsome
pattern flanked the bowl and the guests who came in
numbers helped themselves liberally. On New Year's
Day the gentlemen were expected to call on all their
lady friends and by the time the round had been made,
you can imagine the result. A bad custom, which has
passed away, yet, we hear of intoxication still.  At
parties, where "the flowing bowl" had flowed too freely
in some directions, one of the privileges mammy claimed was to carry cups of strong, black coffee to her favo
28 
The Social Life of the Old South
rites among the sufferers, giving as her excuse, "Ain't
he comin' ter see my young lady?" or perhaps, "Ain't
I done hep' ter nuss him when he wus little?"
But we have not told you how we first heard of the
value of money. Having just entered upon young ladyhood, we, of course, received attention, and we were at a
party, for we of the South felt that we must do what
we could to cheer up our returned soldiers, we heard
our name and unconsciously listened.   "She has one
follower the less tonight, where is the Captain?" We
did not turn but we recognized the voice which answered, "The Captain is evidently of the opinion that Miss
with a hundred thousand dollars and Miss
with nothing, are two distinct persons."  It
was the first time we had ever heard that money was
considered before standing and character, but it isn't
always so.
With the disastrous close of the war, social conditions in the South underwent such a change as comes
to few countries. A few families tried to hold out in
the same old manner, but soon these also had to go
under. There was no longer the handsome incomes
to meet these heavy expenditures. Life in the Southland became a life of anxiety and in many instances,
of toil.
29 
CHAPTER II
WHEN THE SERPENT ENTERED EDEN
N the early fifties of the last century it would have
been difficult to find a lovelier home than that of
Doctor Edward Bradford, at Pine Hill Plantation,
Leon County, Florida. It was situated amid rolling
hills and green forests, with little streams here and
there, and a clear, quiet stream wending its way to one
of the placid lakes, which beautify this fair land. God's
Country, its people claim it is, and it is worthy of the
name, or rather it was worthy of the name at the
period of which we write.
In the grove of towering pines stood a large and
stately mansion; white and green, as a country house
should be. Rose-gardens and shrubbery of many kinds,
grew around the house, while away, on every side,
spread smooth and velvety lawns. But do not delude
yourself with the thought that this was the work of
nature, it took skilled work and many hands to keep
all this in beautiful order. Thorough-bred Kentucky
horses grazed in the pastures, cows from Alderney and
Guernsey chewed their cuds contemplatively and furnished the richest of cream and the yellowest of butter
for the inmates of the mansion.
Away towards the east the cabins of the slaves could
be seen; not that the owners ever spoke of them in that
manner, to such they were variously known as "My
People," "My black folks," "My hands," "The quarter folks," and by some they were spoken of as "My
niggers," though but few used this mode of designation, for it was not liked by these dusky people themselves and was generally avoided.
At Pine Hill, (We will drop the word "Plantation,"
which was always made use of by the servants on this
(30) 
Then the Serpent Entered Eden
and adjoining plantations, but rarely by the owners
and their intimate friends.) the cabins were kept in
good order and in perfect repair, a corps of carpenters
being maintained for this purpose. At the beginning
of every summer the cabins and fences and out-houses
were given a coat of whitewash, serving the double
purpose of lending beauty and brightness to the scene
and besides being a sanitary measure. These cabins
were not huddled together, but there was ample space
around each one for a dooryard and garden, while
shade trees were everywhere in evidence.
It was a beautiful place and many were the visitors
there.   Guests were continually coming and going.
There were evening parties, attended by the elite of the
community; house parties where the guests were not
only of the immediate neighborhood but often from
other states as well, for in those days, though there
were no automobiles, people thought nothing of starting out for distant points in their carriages, with another conveyance for baggage and servants, and prolonged visits were made. Social life in the Old South
differed, in many respects from that of any other country; naturally this would be so, for surroundings were
different. These large plantations were like a little
world within themselves; the hospitality of the old-time
Southerners is proverbial; nothing was spared to make
the friends they entertained have a delightful time.
individual tastes were studied and catered to; congenial souls were sought for these house-parties, which
were often like wheels within wheels.
Here were assembled gay ladies of fashion, gentlemen of leisure, statesmen and earnest scientific devotees,
professional men, many of them celebrated far beyond
their "native heath" and most of all, the gentlemen
planters; men who owned large holdings of land, who
employed overseers to look after the minutiae of the
plantation, while they directed. They were often aided
3 I 
Through Somne Eventful Years
in giving these directions by articles published in the
various agricultural magazines, plentiful, both in the
North and in the South.
When this set got together the listener would be
sure to hear discussed scientific farming, in all its phases.
In the winter the various modes of plowing, ditching,
etc., the rival merits of this, that or the other fertilizer,
the best method of heating cotton seed for the compost
heap. Then spring would come and with its coming
the topics of the hour changed to planting corn, sugarcane and that greatest of all staples, cotton. A little
later in the year the first question asked, when these
enthusiastic planters met, was, "Have you finished chop
ping out cotton?"
Next came that terrible enemy, the grass; if the
weather was wet the grass grew apace and every hand
on the place who could handle a hoe, was called into requisition. So the year went on through all its changes
and the interest of these planters never waned, their
ardor never cooled.
One of these agricultural magazines was edited by
Solon Robinson, an Abolitionist of the most pronounced
type. Many of the business men of west Florida, at
that time, were from the North; particularly was this
true of the brokers and commission merchants. A very
popular firm was Brodie & Pettes.  Mr. Pettes was a
bachelor about middle-age and Mr. Brodie was a married man with quite an interesting family; both men
came South with strong Abolition sentiments, which,
for business reasons, they tried to conceal.
Mr. Pettes married a Tallahassee girl and Mr. and
Mrs. Brodie, and the children as well, fell deeply in
love with the Southern people and took very kindly indeed to being waited on by the dusky servitors, who
held so strongly, the sympathy of the folks at the
North. In fact it was no longer necessary to conceal
32 
W/hen the Serpent Entered Eden
their sentiments, for they had undergone "a change of
heart."
In September of I 85o, Mr. Brodie met his old friend,
Solon Robinson on the streets of New York City; after
the first greetings were exchanged the editor told the
commission merchant that he had his face turned toward Florida, whither he was going in the interest of
the poor down-trodden slaves, his expenses being paid
by some devoted workers in the cause, who lived in
Boston.
So completely had Mr. Brodie abjured abolitionism
that he tried to persuade Mr. Robinson that he was
simply wasting his time. "However," he said, "if you
will go on such a mistaken errand, let me give you a
letter of introduction to my friend, Dr. Bradford, who
will receive, with true Southern hospitality, anyone I
send. Go to him, spend a part of your time in Florida
going over his magnificent plantations, see how all is
managed; compare the happy negroes you will find there
with the poor of our own section; hear them sing and
dance and frolic; see how tenderly they are looked
after when they are sick and take my word for it, you
will almost wish you were one of the doctor's slaves
yourself."  Solon Robinson took the proffered letter
and we will tell you what use he made of it.
Travel was slow in those days, it was October when
he reached Pine Hill; there had been a storm a few
days before his coming, one of the equinoctials, which
sometimes sweep over this country, uprooting trees,
laying low most vegetable growth and then passing
swiftly by, leaving everything sweet and clean behind
it and an indescribable freshness in the air.
At Pine Hill were a number of China trees. As every
one knows, the "Pride of China" has weak roots, so a
long row of these trees were lying on the ground; the
children of the family, with their little black playmates,
had been climbing the branches and riding the larger
33 
Through Some Eventful Years
limbs for horses, but, wearying of this, they were
grouped on the immense trunks and listening to the
eldest of the children, a girl of twelve, with long chestnut curls, read a fairy story.
The tale was about two little girls, Rose-White and
Rose-Red, who were walking in the forest and in a deep
and dark place, beside a running stream, they saw a
squatty dwarf, with broad shoulders and very large feet;
his head was covered with thick white hair and he had
a long beard, white as his hair and reaching to his feet.
The dwarf was calling loudly and seemed to be skipping about over the log on which he stood, his voice
was harsh but he was very much in need of help, for
when they drew nearer they saw that his beard was
caught in a cleft in the log and held as if in a vise. He
had been cutting some fire-wood and when he gave a
mighty stroke the ax flew out of his hand and his long
beard was caught, so that he could not get loose. The
children were afraid of him but they were sorry for
him too, so they tried to loosen the beard, but without
success. At last Rose-Red remembered a pair of small
scissors she had in her pocket, and drawing them forth,
snipped off the ends of the beard and the clumsy dwarf
was free.
Instead of thanking them he began to abuse and
threaten them and they were trying to make their escape
-when a horrid cry from Tinnie, one of the black playmates aforesaid, caused every one to look up. Advancing toward them came an almost exact duplicate' of the
dwarf. There was a wild uproar at first, with many
exclamations from the irrepressible little darkeys, such
as, "Lordy, dere's dem very same big feet," "He got
de same hair, too," "En he beard would be jis' as long
ef he hadn't plaited it an tied it up wid blue ribbins."
Attracted by the screams Mammy appeared upon the
scene. "What duz you want?" she asked. "I have come
to see Dr. Bradford," said the stranger. "Well," says
34 
When the Serpent Entered Eden
Mammy, "dem what cums ter see him comes to de front
do'." Around the corner came Fanny, tall and slender
and most imposing looking, her pink and white "ker  chief" tied in a staid bow on the top of her head, her
ginger-bread face drawn up in a frown.
"What is you doin' here?" she inquired, "don't you
know no better den to kum'round folks' back yards,
skeering de chilluns ter def?"
"Madam," said the stranger, "I have come to call on
Dr. Bradford."
"Don't go Madaming me, ef you kum ter see de
NMarster de place fur you ter go is de front do', das
where white folks goes."
"Excuse me," said the stranger, "I have walked from
Tallahassee and took what appeared to be the near est path."
"Walked fum town, did you? Well, dat settles de
whole matter, a gentleman nuver walks. Howsumever,
you kin go'roun' ter de front and de do's dey will be
open, but you knock. Ab will kum ter de do' and he
will'nounce you ter de Marster."
Following the direction indicated by Fanny's long
finger, he soon reached the front door. Ab was not
there, but the doctor sat in an invalid chair, on the
porch, a pair of crutches in reach of his hand, rendering needless the polite excuse made for not rising.
The stranger was asked to be seated while the doctor
read the letter of introduction, which was duly presented. When the doctor had read it he turned the
sheet and read it again.
"Mr. Robinson," he said, "as Mr. Brodie's friend,
I bid you welcome; of course we know you by reputation, your paper is widely read. We shall do all in
our power to convert you to our way of thinking and
we hope you come to us with a desire to learn the truth."
Promising Mr. Robinson every opportunity to pursue his investigations, Doctor Bradford rang a small
35 
Through Some Eventful Years
bell on the table beside him. This brought Ab, who
was told to bring some fresh water. "But stop," said
his Master, "perhaps Mr. Robinson may prefer a mint
julep."
Turning to his guest, the doctor said simply, "I
never take anything stronger than water myself, but
we keep whiskey in the house and Morea makes a fine
julep they say."
This offer was promptly accepted and Morea soon
brought it in. The new-comer openly stared. To us,
who knew and loved the good old woman, there was
nothing repulsive in her appearance, but she was something new to him and no sooner had she disappeared
through the folding doors than he asked: "What mode
of torture made her like that?"
Doctor Bradford was naturally indignant. Morea
was not quite four feet in height and almost square;
she had a small head with deep-sunken eyes and her
hands and feet resembled nothing so much as terrapin
claws, yet she looked all right to us and nobody could
make such dainties or tell such fairy tales as "Aunt
Morea," as the children called her. The Mistress
trusted her and she was the proud mother of nine
strong, well-formed children. Mr. Robinson was told
of this, but the sight of her seemed to fill him with horror. When supper was ready he was introduced to the
family and all were as pleasant and polite as if he had
been an invited guest.
At breakfast next morning he met the youngest
member of the household, a little girl of four years,
petted and spoiled by all, especially by her father.
This child was destined to play an important part in
Solon Robinson's visit to Florida.
As far as Dr. Bradford's strength would allow he
accompanied his guest in rides through the three plan tations, but at other times he was furnished a: horse and
buggy and a colored driver, that he might go where he
36 
When the Serpent Entered Eden
pleased and see all he wished. The Bradford brothers
entertained him in turn and he spent a week with each
of the four. Captain Lester, also invited him to spend
a week with him. At the end of this time he came again
to Pine Hill for a farewell visit.
37 
CHAPTER III
WHEN THE ABOLITIONIST EDITOR CAME TO GRIEF
I' was a bright, beautiful Sunday afternoon in late
November; over the pine forest a solemn silence
reigned. The sun was traveling westward and its slanting rays fell softly on the glistening brown pine-straw,
which lay like a thick carpet beneath the trees. Lulu,
the nurse of the least little one, had taken her charge
to these woods, where Jim had been keeping them company, but time was passing and Jim had four miles to go
before he would reach home, so he had bidden them
goodbye and the baby was carefully seeking partridge
berries, whose bright red attracted her, while Lulu sat
on a fallen log, deep in meditation, or maybe taking a
nap. Baby had strayed off quite an unusual distance
from the shadow of Lulu's wing and realizing the fact
she quickened her steps and returning to the log where
she had left her nurse she found Mr. Robinson talking
with Lulu.
As the baby came nearer she heard Mr. Robinson
say: "If you will listen to me, as soon as you cross Mason and Dixon's line you will be free." Spying her little charge almost beside her, Lulu hastily snatched up
the child and called back to her companion, "It's late
an' I gotter take dis yere baby home, it's her supper
time."
We have said that this was a spoiled child. Always
when she had been bathed and made ready for bed it
was customary for her father to be called to get her to
sleep. At such times he sent the nurse away and, lying
down beside his small daughter, he would wait to see
what she would say to him. This was an hour of pure
delight to them both; baby saved up all she heard but
did not understand till this quiet time, when she could
(38) 
[When the Abolitionist Editor Came to Grief
"ask father" and father never wearied of explaining, as
far as possible, all the questions which vexed her childish brain. Seldom was this program varied, for honored indeed must be the guest who could detain him
from this petted child.
On this particular Sunday night Lulu had summoned
Dr. Bradford and was off, in haste, to enjoy herself
"in de quarter" with the other young negroes of Pine
Hill.
Babv laid her little brown head on father's arm and
was quiet for a while, then she sleepily asked, "What
does free mean?"
"You mean three," said father, "well three is two
and one more."
No more was said and soon both were sound asleep.
At breakfast and at dinner the baby's high chair was
placed at her father's left hand, and Lulu stood behind
the chair, that she might attend to the wants of her
nursling.
On this Monday morning the family were assembled
around the bounteous board. Mr. Robinson occupied
the seat on Dr. Bradford's right hand, just opposite
the baby, who was busily engaged with her bowl of
mush and milk. Conversation was general around the
table, the governess, for there was always a governess,
talked with the school children of the coming week,
the children responded and the "stranger within the
gates" took quite a prominent part in the pros and
cons of school life.
Suddenly the baby dropped her spoon-she had
thought of something-"Father," she said, "how can
Lulu be two and one more?"
"Why, she could not be, of course."
"But, father, you said last night, when I asked you
what free meant, that it meant two and one more."
Some inkling of the truth must have come to both
Lulu and Solon Robinson, for she hastily left the room
39 
Through Some Eventful Years
while he, with a terrible scowl, turned to the waiting
child.
"Hush up," he cried, "children should be seen and
not heard."
"I won't hush" was the answer, "you said it yourself
-you said when Lulu went across Mason and Dick's
line she would be free."
The cat was out of the bag at last. A dead silence
fell on the group around the table. Mother took the
weeping child from the table, the governess marshalled
her flock to the school-room and the master of Pine
Hill Plantation was left to reckon with his guest.
Lulu was questioned first, she admitted that it was
true. Mr. Robinson had tried to talk to her but she
did not want him to say those things to her; she referred
her master to several men on the place, who could tell
him more than she could.
The investigation went on. His various hosts in the
neighborhood were sent for and it developed that on
each plantation the same course had been pursued.
Forgetting the generous hospitality, the kind consideration which had been shown him, he was trying,
in every case to injure and undermine his entertainers.
As he listened to the testimony given by scores of
negroes, whom he had sought, with more or less success, to render insubordinate, his livid face and trembling limbs spoke plainly of his cowardice and of his
fears.
It was proved that at each house where he had visited he had repaid kindness with treachery. When the
family retired he too, went to his apartment, but not
to sleep. As soon as the household was quiet he would
steal out and make his way to the negro "quarters,"
where the news of his coming had been spread abroad.
The incendiary talks he gave them had not yet borne
fruit but it had been discovered not a day too soon.
The four brothers and Captain Lester sat in judg
4o 
When the Abolitionist Editor Came to Grief
ment upon this ungrateful old sinner, and it was finally
decided that two of their number should take him to
St. Marks and ship him to some far Northern point on
a vessel carrying cotton to market. The Captain of this
vessel was a Southern man and could be depended upon
to obey orders; before the vessel could have reached
port a number of the agricultural magazines, of which
he was editor, came in the mail; it was somewhat amusing, and also irritating, to read therein a letter, dated
October 25th, telling of his arrival at Pine Hill and
his reception there; he wrote at great length and while
he omitted all mention of the mint julep, he did not
forget to tell of "Morea, who evidently had undergone
some terrible torture in her youth which had distorted
and cruelly disfigured her." There was much along
the same lines. Mr. Brodie was overwhelmed with mortification at the failure of his experiment and Solon
Robinson lost some of his subscribers in Florida.
The situation, about this time, was very trying to the
Southern people; John C. Calhoun, beloved and admired by the greater part of the country, had passed
awav. So true and pure was he that personally, even
his worst enemies could find nothing to say to his discredit. Political enemies, he had many, but his doctrine
of State's Rights was the very heart of the South. In
this same year (I85I) Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe,
began the publication of her famous novel, "Uncle
Tom's Cabin." It came out first as a serial.
The next year it came out in book form and was
translated into many languages and the editions reached
up into the hundreds of thousands.   "Uncle Tom's
Cabin" had but little literary merit, but it was strongly
dramatic. Mrs. Stowe knew nothing whatever of the
South or its people; she knew nothing of.the negro or
the manner in which the institution of slavery was carried on; she had never been South, but she was gifted
with a vivid imagination and she had, also, a total dis
4I 
Through Some Eventful Years
regard for truth. Given a vivid imagination and a disregard for truth and it is easy to be dramatic.
Mrs. Stowe's book came, too, just when the time was
ripe for such a fire-brand; the abolition of negro slavery
was "the burning question of the hour." Old England
and New England vied with each other in this work;
nothing was too bad for the Southerner, nothing too
good for his slave. Brotherly love was lost sight of;
Christian charity died a natural death and these apostles of abolition proclaimed "A Higher Law:"
"A law which aimed its blows at Slavery;
At marriage, and the home;
A law which in its wide out-going
Caused e'en yet full many a heart to mourn."
The dignified protests of Southern statesmen; the
able editorials in Southern newspapers; the masterly
arguments of DeBow's Review were treated with contempt and contumely.
Pursuing, as nearly as possible, the even tenor of her
way, the South waited, to see what the outcome would
be. If "our black folks" felt this unrest which pervaded
the times, they gave no sign, and relations between the
races, as yet, knew no change. To make our story
clearer and plainer, we shall introduce, from time to
time, some leaves from a child's diary.
42 
CHAPTER IV
A FEW EXPLANATORY WORDS
HESE leaves, selected from the little girl's diary,
need, perhaps, some explanation. Our aim is to
use only the parts which show the trend of political
events in the South, as seen through the eyes of a child.
This child entered school when only four years old-she
was not made to go but went of her own free will, be cause she so dearly loved the governess, Miss Joanna
Young Scammon, of Maine.
It was a joke at first, this tiny scholar, but she was
so quiet and her progress was so rapid that she became
an accepted fact in the school room.   In those days
there were not so many fads and fancies regarding the
rearing of children. It was not considered detrimental
to either physical or mental health for a too-early use
of the faculties with which nature had endowed them.
Sunshine and out-door exercise in abundance, the children of this household had, and in every way their
health was looked after, but it never once occurred to
the grown-ups that a child could be mentally over-stimulated. So, at the age of seven years, we find this child
a pupil at The Iamonia Female Seminary, studying History, Geography, Philosophy, Arithmetic and the usual
reading and writing, besides a column of Webster's
Dictionary every afternoon. A round, roly-poly, rosy
little creature,' she enjoyed to the full every bit of knowledge she acquired. A very child in all things, play was
as sweet as study.
A very child in all things, play was as sweet as study.
Of course, there is much in this diary that is of a purely personal nature, and such we have omitted. Where
there occurs allusions which tend to show the relations
between the two races so prominent in the Southland,
(43) 
Through Some Eventful Years
we have made use of them. Even in this household
where the utmost prudence obtained in talking before
children, remarks, dropped here and there, could not
fail to arouse their curiosity, but this was nothing compared to the deep-seated uneasiness, which filled with
apprehension the thinking element of the South.
Every Northern newspaper contained expressions,
either for, or against the abolition doctrines; for all
of the North did not stand for this unwarranted interference in the affairs of the South. John C. Calhoun
had stated the doctrine of State's Rights so plainly that
all who would could understand, but his warning voice
was disregarded by the fanatical Abolitionists.
This principle, State's Rights, was embodied in the
Constitution of our fathers, and with the disregard of
these sacred rights came many of our present-day
troubles.
So long as these doctrines remained in force, personal liberty, except to criminals, was assured; marriage
laws were held sacred and divorces were rare and when
these did take place, the parties to such divorces were
looked upon with suspicion and mistrust. We will not
try to assert that "free love" was unknown, but parties
to it were not considered respectable and life was made
hard for them. Business houses held to a certain code
of honor and failures in business were not the every-day
affair as at present and when a man wilfully defrauded
his creditors he could not hold up his head and be recognized as the equal of honest men.
When the Republican Party came into power a deathblow was dealt to State's Rights and "The Higher Law"
sprang into being like Athene from the brain of Zeus,
fully armed and equipped, not with wisdom and justice,
but casting aside all law, both human and Divine, in
a mad desire to have everything their own way.
Of course, the negroes knew of the strong feeling
44 
A Few Explanatory C'ords
against the abolition movement among their "white
folks." Secret though the midnight meetings were
held, some news of their import was sure to get to the
ears of the white people; some of the negroes were
faithful and from these came the information but,
strange to say, no mention of all this was made to the
white children. It had always been impressed upon the
negro mind that nothing but what was good and right
must ever be told to the children of the family. The
incidents mentioned in the diary show how little the
child really knew of events transpiring around her. The
real significance attending these circumstances was not
felt.
45 
CHAPTER V
LEAVES FROM A CHILD'S DIARY*
T is March again and I am eight years old.  Mother
says I write well enough to keep a diary, so she has
given me this book and father has sharpened a pencil
for me to write with. For two whole days I have been
copying in my copy-book a little verse, this is it:
"If you your ears
Would keep from jeers,
Three things keep meekly hid
Myself and I, and mine and my,
And how I do, or did."
I do not see how I can write a diary and at the same
time keep this rule which I have learned.  Tonight,
when bed-time comes I shall ask Father; he always tells
me what I want to know.
March 9th, I854.-I forgot to put a date yesterday
so today I put the day and the year. Father made it
all right about that troublesome "I," he says this is for
my own eyes, and maybe his too if I should show it to
him. He says I must remember the rule all the time,
except when I am talking to him or writing in this book.
Mother is going to Live Oak today and I wish I could
go too. I love grandpa so dearly, but father and mother do not want me to miss my lessons and get behind
in my classes. Anyway, we are going to spend the day
with him Saturday.
March Ioth, 1854.-I was studying my lessons, in
the Library, when mother got home last night. Often
I am watching for her but my geography was hard and
I did not know she had come until she was in the room.
She stood in the door and did not move when I went to
kiss her, she said, "Grandpa has sent you a present,
* These Leaves from the Diary are often awkwardly expressed but allowance must be made for the writer's youth. Her figures too are bad in
some places and the greater part of the Diary was written on the coarse,
rough paper which in the days of the war was often the only kind obtainable; so if the dates are sometimes wrong please excuse it.
-  (46) 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
guess what it is?" Now, grandpa always gives me such
nice presents, sometimes he sends me beautiful picture
books. Sometimes he gives me gold pieces; once he
brought me a- set of real steel knives and forks from
Sheffield, England; once he sent me a barrel of brown
sugar that my Lulu might make me plenty of candy.
She makes the best candy in the world and, when she
has time, she plaits it and makes splendid baskets, with
high handles. Once he sent me a mother goat, with
twin kids and once a pair of peafowls, which I still have
and which are just the most magnificent birds you ever
saw.   (I wonder if I spelled magnificent right?)   I
have had all sorts of gifts from dear grandpa and so,
when mother wanted me to guess, I just couldn't. Everybody in the room had a guess but it seemed nobody was
right, for when mother stood aside there stood a little
girl, something smaller than I. I drew back a little,
for at first I could not believe grandpa had sent me that
little girl; but he really had. I am not sure yet that I
like my present but of course I will for did not grandpa
think she was a nice present? I asked mother what
she was for and she said she would be my maid and
wait upon me, but my Lulu can do all I want done.
When she had eaten some supper mother gave her to
aunt Ginnie to keep until the next morning. Whatever
will I do with her when another day comes?
March I3th.-Dr. Mitchell stopped at Pine Hill last
night and father was busy with him and so I did not
have a chance to talk with him about Frances, for that is
my new maid's name. Mother says I must be very kind
to her and when she gets over feeling so strange she will
play with me, then, too, she says I may teach her all I
learn myself, I have given her the small slate I used
when I was a beginner. She is a shy child and she sits
and rolls her big black eyes at me until I feel almost
afraid of her. Mother says she is my Re-spon-si-bil-i-ty.
Isn't that a big word? Mother told me how to spell
47 
Through Some Eventful Years
it but when I asked the meaning she said, "It will probably take you a lifetime to learn its full meaning, but [
will try to tell you what it means in regard to you and
Frances."
I can't remember every word, but this is what she
meant, I was to be patient with my little maid; I must
not get mad with her; I must not strike her; I must not
say hard things to her and if she was so bad I could not
stand it I must bring her to mother to be corrected just
as she corrects us. Why do I have to be so careful about
Frances, mother? I asked. "Because," mother said,
"Frances belongs to you." But my Lulu and Allen and
Hannah belong to me too, and you have never told me
all this before? "It is this way," said mother, "Frances has nobody but you, your grandpa has given you a
deed of gift to her and it has been recorded in the Book
of Deeds in the court house, Frances has no father and
her mother does not want her, aunt Gillie, who used
to take care of her is dead. She has a grandmother
and grandfather, these are Uncle Kinchen and Aunt
Amy. They, as you know, go everywhere with your
grandpa and so they cannot take care of Frances even
if they wished to do so." Well, mother is right and
I will try to do my best, but I wish she did not belong
to me. I am so glad when night comes and she goes
home with aunt Ginnie. I go to school several hours
of each day and that is a help.
We close the little diary and go on with our story.
Uncle Kinchen, mentioned by the young writer, was
Governor Branch's waiting-man, his valet, he would
be called in France. Aunt Amy, his wife, had been
maid to Mrs. Branch and the two traveled everywhere
with them.  The Governor went in a roomy carriage,
drawn by four horses, following this could always be
48 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
seen a carry-all with a pair of sleek Kentucky mules, and
on the driver's seat sat uncle Kinchen and aunt Amy.
This old couple showed plainly that old age was upon them. Kinchen, as a youth of twenty, had carried
his little Master, in his arms, on rainy days, to the "Old
Field School," which he attended. This school was
near Elk's Marsh and it was a frolic for both master
and man when the rain came down. Now uncle Kinchen was treated with respect and affection by the entire family and oftentimes the grandchildren would
gather around him while he told them wonderful stories
of the many great deeds their grandfather had accomplished, to all of which they listened with delight. Aunt
Amy was almost as old; she had waited upon her mistress from her babyhood and she too, had much to tell
to these same grandchildren. In their opinion it was
hard to find anyone more entertaining than these old
people.
Riding behind the "Democrat" came Starling, who
also traveled with Governor Branch. To him really
fell all tasks requiring strength and dexterity and he
rather resented the secondary position he occupied.
Starling rode a small Spanish mule and he was frequently admonished to be careful of his mount. Often
along the journey the Governor would ride "Janet,"
for that was the mule's name, and Starling would ride
on the box beside Uncle Godfrey, the coachman.
This mule had a history which we may as well give
here. In the year I822, John Branch made his first
visit to Florida, he came as United States District
Judge. Pensacola was his headquarters and the Spanish residents of the city interested him deeply.  He
made many friends among them and some of these
friendships lasted through life. Governor Branch was
an athlete, fond of all exercises of that nature and especially fond of horseback riding. He had ridden an
Arabian from North Carolina to Florida and, speaking
49 
Through Some Eventful Years
one day to a Spanish friend of the easy gait of the
Arabian, the Spaniard said, "You will never know the
full delight of such exercise until you ride a Spanish
mule." Governor Branch made some polite reply and
thought nothing more about it. Fourteen years later,
coming to Florida to live, he again visited Pensacola
and renewed the pleasant acquaintances he had made.
The conversation turned on horseback riding and the
Spaniard, who had spoken of the mule so many years
before, said, "Governor, I have a steed for you now,
and when you have tried her you will never care for
an ordinary horse again."
True to his word he sent this mule to Tallahassee
and she proved to be the very finest riding animal the
governor had ever tried. He never willingly rode anything else and "Janet" made the trip from Florida to
Carolina with as much regularity as the governor himself. Once, in Philadelphia, a broad-brimmed Quaker,
of a rotund figure, accosted him on the street, "Are you
the old gentleman who rides a mule?" he asked, so
you see Janet's fame had spread.
These journeys were leisurely ones for oftentimes
they stopped to visit along the way and never, while he
lived, was the home of John C. Calhoun passed by. To
the end of his days Governor Branch looked out for
the comfort and welfare of all his faithful servants and
dying, they were provided'for in his will.
THE CHILD'S'DIARY CONTINUED
April Ist, I854.-This is "All Fools Day" but nobody feels like fun, even sis Mag has not played any
tricks and Buddy hasn't a word to say. Father got a
letter this morning saying that dear, sweet sister is very
sick in Savannah. Mother is not well enough to go
but father is going in a few minutes and will bring her
home as soon as she is able to travel. He is going in
50 
Leaves. From a Child's Diary
the carriage as far as Oglethorpe, in Georgia, and then
take the train. Mother is so sad and her beautiful blue
eyes have lost their light. What if sister should die as
sister Sarah did.
April 15th.-God is good to us for sister and father
are at home again. Sister is pale and weak, but she
smiles as sweetly as ever and she says now that she is
at home she will soon be well. Everybody wants to wait
on her at once.
May 4th.-Sister is so much better, she goes to the
table now and we are so glad.  I can hardly stay away
from her long enough to go to school.
May i ith.-Sister is worse, three doctors are here,
not counting father and Buddy; all the servants are so
distressed; aunt Dinah cries and prays all the time. Will
God hear our prayers?
May i8th.-Sister died last night-there is nothing
more in the world to say.
June 2oth.-It looks as if our world would never
come right again. Miss Brewer whom we love so well,
is going away to her home in New York and she is not
coming back, because she is going to be married. Mother says she has been a great comfort to her in these
days of trial. She will not go until the Ist of August.
We go to school ten months and have holiday in September and October; sometimes we have August and
September, and begin school in October. We go somewhere every summer. If we have to go before school
is out, the governess goes too'.
August 22nd, I854.-We will have to say goodbye
to dear Miss Brewer tomorrow, she is going back to
her home in Brooklyn and next winter she will marry
Mr. Albro. He came here to see her, when she first
left Mr. Wolfe, and the Iamonia Female Seminary, to
teach in our family. Her younger sister, Miss Addie,
is almost as sweet as she is; I am so sorry they are going
to leave us; everybody is sorry.
5I 
Through Some Eventful Years
August 3oth, I854.-I was afraid the days would
be lonely without school and lessons, but we are getting
on quite well; we miss sister dreadfully but mother and
father tell us such beautiful things about the Heaven
she has gone to, that I would like to go there, too. We
gather flowers every morning and take them to her, to
her and the other loved ones who are there.
Oct. Ist, I854.-We spent the month of September
at the sea-side. Mother is never well now and she is
so white and thin and when she wants to go over the
house to see if all is right, father takes her up in his
arms and carries her as if she was a baby, for he is
strong though he is lame.
Oct. isth, i854.-Aunt Eliza Bailey came today to
spend the winter with us. Her only daughter, Teresa
Leigh Reid, died the week after sister did and they
brought her home and buried her under the myrtles.
Mother and aunt Eliza both feel so sad, as indeed, we
all do.
Oct. 2Ist, I854.-We  are going to have Miss Julia
Parkman Young for our governess. I have only seen
her once; she is from New York city and she is very
nice looking and quiet. I wonder why all our teachers
come from the North? They are all very pleasant and
so are the three governesses Dr. Holland has had to
teach at Minerva Hall, since I have been going to
school.  Their governess goes everywhere with the
girls but after school time our governess does whatever she pleases.
October 2nd, I 854.-School opened yesterday. Miss
Young is our governess. She is a little pretty and she
has pretty clothes, but whenever she thinks nobody
sees her, she cries. Her eyes are big and brown, a light
brown, her hair is like her eyes. Uncle John who makes
fun of everybody, says she does not look as if she could
say boo to a goose, but there is no sense in that, for all
the geese stay at the Horse-shoe with aunt Pendar.
52 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
October 5th.-This is Friday night. I have studied
hard and tried to have good lessons. I do not have
much time to play for I have to teach Frances some
every day. She learns well most of the time and mother
says she is a credit to her teacher. I hope it suits mother.
December 21  st,  1854.-Guess what has happenedaunt Eliza Bailey has a dear little son and he is named
Edward Bradford for father. Aunt Eliza calls father
"Brother Doctor," and she says he is the very best
man in all the world. I think she is right. I just love
that baby to distraction.
December 22nd.-I have a Christmas present three
days before Christmas.  It is a baby, aunt Dinah gave
it to me, she says the rabbits brought it to her and she
thought right away "I'll gie dis chile ter Susie."
Wasn't it kind of aunt Dinah? It is a beautiful baby
and of course she really wanted it for herself. Aunt
Dinah says she will take care of it for me and I can
have it to play with whenever I want it. Mother says
Lulu can make me a trunk full of clothes for my baby
and I can keep the trunk in my doll house and when I
want the baby to play with, we can get her and give
her a bath in the blue tub, she has given me, and dress
her in the clothes from the trunk. Her name is Lavinia and she is too little and soft yet to play with. When
I asked mother if the baby was really mine, just as
Frances is, she said, "She is yours, and so are Dinah
and Henry and all their children except Nellie and Bethiah, that is, they will be yours some day, they are
left to you, in your father's will." I do not know what
that means and company came in so mother could not
stop to tell me.
Jan. Ist, I855.-Miss Young feels so bad that she
wants to give up teaching and go to her grandmother
in New York. I am sorry, for I love her in spite of the
tears,, she says I must not say "crying," she says she is
weeping, but she does not tell me why.
53 
Through Some Eventful Years
- Jan. Ioth, I855.-Aunt Robinson has come back
from Texas, just in time, mother says. She taught
mother when she was a little girl, and she has offered
to teach us until mother can find a suitable governess.
Father and mother are pleased for they think she is the
best of teachers. She is an English woman and very
strict.  I went to school to her when I was quite small.
I have promised mother that I will be good and study
hard.
Always I have wanted an express package to come
addressed to me, well this morning it came. It was a
very nice package, indeed, books for the most part,
which is just what I like best. It was from our dear
Miss Brewer who is now Mrs. Albro, and her sweet
young sister, Miss Addie. There was something for
each member of the family. My gifts were a string of
pink and silver beads for my biggest dolly, "Julia Parkman Young," a drawing book with four pencils and a
beautiful book called "Mrs. Nancy Bradford's Diary."
Miss Brewer thought I would like that especially because I, too, have an aunt named Mrs. Nancy Bradford and she has a husband and house full of sons. This
Mrs. Bradford lived in the days of the Revolution and
she was very patriotic but very unhappy for all her people were in the army, helping General Washington. I
hope our dear little aunt Nancy will never have to send
her sons to war.
There was a book for Frances in the box but I am
afraid she is ungrateful; the book is a Primer, bound in
dark yellow, about the color of Frances herself, it has
pretty pictures, too, but it made her angry, for she is
just on the last lesson in McGuffey's Second Reader and
this is the second time, so she will be ready for the
Third Reader next Monday; she is quite scornful of the
pretty little Primer but she shall write a nice letter of
thanks, never-the-less. Father says if he had known
54 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
I wanted an express package so badly he would have
seen to it that one came; he is always so kind.
There is something wrong somewhere. This morn ing everything seemed lovely but just after breakfast
uncle Tom and uncle Richard came and in a few minutes
Captain Lester came, too, next came Dr. Holland and
Mr. Berrien Manning. They did not come as usual to
the house, but stopped under the big trees at the front
of the flower-garden to talk. How I did wish I could
know what they were talking about. It was nothing
mother said, but I believe it was something about those
Abolitionists.
March 8th, I855.-Another birthday, nine years
old. I have a lot of nice presents. My folks are so
good to me. This has been a long winter, for the first
time in my life grandpa did not come to Florida, all this
winter I seem to have been looking for something and I
know it is grandpa. Next to father I love him better
than anybody in the world. Frances is learning fast.
April 24th, i855.-We are going to Tennessee.
Mother's health is bad and she has not seen aunt Margaret for years. I have never seen her. Aunt Margaret is Mrs. General Daniel Donelson. She is a little
younger than mother and she has a large family of
boys and girls. Uncle Daniel was a general in the
Mexican War and General Andrew Jackson was his
uncle.
May 29th, I855.-We have been here in Tennessee
for some weeks. Father did not come with us as he
expected to do. At the last something happened which
made it necessary for him to stay at home. When I
asked mother what it was, she did not tell me, but Fannie told me, one night when I was getting ready for
bed, that some white men, who had no business on the
place, had come in the night and were hidden away on
the place.  Fannie said they were some of the "Aboli.
tion crew." I asked more questions but she would tell
55 
Through Some Eventful Years
me no more and she told me to keep my mouth shut;
so I do not really know anything about it.  I do not
even know what she meant by "Abolition crew." I
hope it is nothing that will hurt father.
June 2nd, I855-.I have had a splendid time here
with my kinsfolk, aunt Margaret is tall and stately and
beautiful and she has the jolliest children, and when we
get to playing we almost take the roof off the house. We
went to the "Hermitage," where President Jackson
lived, but what I liked better was going to see grandma
Saunders, who lives on a mountain side and has a cold,
cold, cave with a stream of ice water running through
it.
We are going home next week.
June 6th.-I have found out a little more about that
"Abolition crew" Fannie talked about; last night I fell
asleep on the sofa in the front room at aunt Margaret's
and nobody found me and when I woke mother and
uncle Daniel were talking. He said, "These abolitionists are everywhere through the South. Sooner or later
they will make trouble for us. Dr. Bradford writes
that those on Horse-shoe were made to leave and will
be severely dealt with if they return." I sat up and
called out, "Oh, uncle Daniel, please tell me all about
it?" Mother called Fannie to put me to bed, so I
haven't heard any more.
THE STORY RESUMED:
The early Spring of I855 found Dr. Bradford preparing to take his family to Tennessee and Kentucky.
Under the sorrows and trials of the past year Mrs.
Bradford had faded as some delicate flower and to
divert her he had planned a visit to her sister, Mrs.
Donelson, of Davidson County. Mrs. Donelson was
the third daughter of Governor John Branch, of North
Carolina, who was, at the time of her marriage, Sec
56 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
retary of the Navy in President Jackson's Cabinet.
Daniel S. Donelson was the nephew of Mrs. Andrew
Jackson; he was a handsome blonde giant, splendidly
proportioned with a brain to equal his brawn. He was
a graduate of West Point and moreover a classmate of
Jefferson Davis, the South's beloved President and of
Robert Edward Lee, whose name ranks with "The Immortals."
I.ike his classmates he took a prominent part in the
War with Mexico and, at the period of which we write,
he was living on his fine stock farm some sixteen miles
from Nashville and, with his beautiful wife and eleven
splendid children to help him,, the doors of hospitality
were ever held open. The brothers-in-law were devoted friends and great pleasure was anticipated by all
concerned.
The leaves from our little girl's diary tell of some
mysterious happenings, which she could not quite understand though she suspected the Abolitionists;
looked upon, evidently as a kind of bug-a-boo or a first
cousin to the devil. As the time approached for them
to leave home, troubles of this nature came thick and
fast. Dr. Bradford soon found he could not leave home
and Governor Branch, Mrs. Bradford's father, offered
to accompany the family to the home of the Donelsons
in Tennessee. Anxious to get his wife where she would
have a change, Dr. Bradford accepted the offer gratefully, and the first of May found them en route for
Nashville.
In the meantime Dr. Bradford, with his valued manager, Mr. Manning, and the other slave-holding neighbors found they had on their hands the worst abolition
tangle they had yet met with. Three miles from Pine
Hill Plantation, near the little village of Centreville,
was a large saw-mill owned by Mr. Columbus Williams, who, though he owned valuable property in
Florida, did not live here. He had hired, to run his mill
57 
Through Some Eventful Years
a mechanic from New England; there were negro laborers of course, but this mechanic was in charge. The
young man attended service at Pisgah Church, near
his place of business. HLe was not looked upon as a
dangerous character and yet he was, for first one negro
and then another came with tales of what had been said
by this man, and finally it was discovered that he was
giving parties at night, in the big mill buildings and inviting the young negro men and girls to be present.
Uncle Henry and Aunt Dinah,i Uncle Randal and Aunt
Julianne came to complain that their daughters had been
coaxed off to these gatherings and many other parents
of young negroes in the neighborhood came with the
same story.
The gay mechanic at the Williams Mill had invited
to help him at these parties, other mechanics from his
own section of country, who were working at the railroad shop in Tallahassee.  It was proved that they were
not taking any active part in abolition work but only
following these very questionable methods in search of
amusement. Notice was served upon them that this
must stop and they were told most emphatically what
would happen if another gathering of like nature should
be held. Also a patrol of responsible negroes was appointed on each plantation with orders to severely whip
any white man found lurking around "The Quarter."
One night Dr. Bradford was aroused by a call at
his window, "Marse Ned, come out here." He was
out in a moment. Held by two pair of strong, black
hands was the mechanic aforesaid, stripped to his skin
and covered with bleeding welts from a cow-hide, that
most efficient of whips. Frightened and angry he was,
but the hands which held him knew no mercy and they
would gladly have whipped him again but Dr. Bradford
interposed.
"You contemptible cur; how dare you set foot on my
place after you were forbidden?" said the Doctor. "You
58 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
have been well whipped but it is nothing compared to
what will happen to you if you should come again. If
you attempt to revenge yourself on my boys I shall
know who did it and you shall suffer for it; if the torch
is applied I shall know whose hand did it and nothing
will be too bad for you. Now boys, turn him loose; if
you ever find him here again flog him twice as hard."
Two or three such instances occurred on different
plantations around and every time one whipping was
enough to put a stop to it, but the doctor's trip to Tennessee was spoiled.  That winter the first mulatto child
ever born on Pine Hill Plantation, opened his eyes to
the light; Dr. Bradford promptly summoned the Rev.
McDaniel and had the baby christened with its father's
surname which name he bears to this day.*
The gay and festive New Englander was furious but
he could not help himself. During the summer he made
arrangements to marry a young widow with three little
daughters, owning a small plantation and a few
negroes. He thought he was ruined, but strange to
say the widow did not care and the wedding took place.
All this was very disagreeable, to say the least of it.
The close of the season found the Bradfords at home
again and with them came two lovely daughters of General and Mrs. Donelson, Sarah and Emily; they helped
to brighten up the home which had known so much sorrow. Aunt Robinson, as the children called her, was to
be their governess for the winter. There was much
company that winter and spring.
THE DIARY RESUMED:
July 7th, 1855.-Home again, and I am glad, but I
miss Sister Mag. Father says "she is the darling of
* In the summer of 1865 Emeline and her son left Pine Hill Plantation
and went in search of the boy's father. She had been expected to be welcomed with open arms, but not so. They were greeted with harsh and abusive
language and ordered off the premises. In his home there was no place for
Hagar and Ishmel.
59 
Through Some Eventful Years
Sue's heart." I know I love her and I hope she will
soon come home. She is traveling in the North with
Aunt Eliza. It is so good to see father once more, and
the first quiet time for a talk, I mean to ask him about
those men.
July ioth, i855.-After school was out yesterday,
mother said as my reports were so good, I might have
Lavinia to play with. She is seven months old now, and
she is beautiful. Her brown skin is so smooth and fine,
her hair is black and curly, and she has dimples in both
cheeks. I love dimples. She has two little white teeth,
and she smiles and plays all the time she is awake. Aunt
Dinah brought her to the house. Lulu filled the little
blue tub with warm water. At first I wanted cold water
like I am always bathed in, but aunt Dinah said she had
never been washed in cold water, and she might cry.
You see, I am part grandpa's and he thinks it is unhealthy to bathe in warm water. When we go to Live
Oak he has the bath tub in the bath house, which he built
in the rose garden, filled to the brim wath water from the
ram, and lets me play in it as much as I wish. None of the
other children can do this because, he says, none of the
other mothers would let him manage. I love cold water. Lulu helped me bathe Lavinia, while aunt Dinah
looked on and laughed. The baby splashed the water
everywhere with her plump brown hands. Her hands
are so fat, she looks like you had tied strings around her
wrists.
September 15th, i855.-Our school closed today for
a two weeks' holiday, which we will spend at Newport.
Mother is still feeling badly and she likes the sulphur
water. Aunt Nannie Meginniss is going too, so I will
have her children to play with; that is fine, for I love
Eliza Lane better than I can tell and Dannie is a dear,
good little boy.
September 29th.-We have had a delightful stay at
this place but we are going home tomorrow. I have
6o 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
enjoyed listening to Captain West and Aunt Robinson
talk about the many voyages she has made in his boat
going to and from St. Marks to New Orleans.
October 6th, I855.'-School once more-Aunt Robinson "at the helm" as Captain West says. Mrs. Woods,
who taught my older sisters when they were too small
to be sent off to boarding school, is here on a visit. Something funny has happened. Mrs. Woods came in one
morning and handed father a book, she said she bought
it to read on the journey down and she was going to
give it to him. He thanked her and took the book, his
face flushed, he said "This is Uncle Tom's Cabin."
"Yes," she answered, "it is now in its hundredth edition,
but I read in the newspapers that it was not allowed to
be sold in the South so I brought this copy for you to
read."
He read it carefully and then he read parts of it over.
When he had finished the book Mrs. Woods came in
and she asked, "Well, Doctor, what do you think of
aunt Harriet Stowe's production?"
Father looked her in the face and then he laid the
volume on the library fire and watched it burn.
"There, Mrs. Woods," he said, "that is the best place
for it."
I wanted to read that book myself but it must have
been a bad book for Father, who loves books, to have
treated it that way.
November 4th.-This is Grandpa's birthday and he
will be here tonight. I am so glad. Mother says I
may go up the road to meet him if Father will go too.
I know he will. Mother has a birthday feast ready for
him and the long table is set with the prettiest things.
Aunt Morea is scolding Bill and aunt Ginnie has cooked
her very best sweet wafers, for, she says, "Ole Marster
don't git no sech sweet wafers nowheres else, he say so
his-self." Everybody is glad Grandpa is coming.
November i-oth.-Last night I was telling Brother
6i 
Through Some Eventful Years
Junius how we rejoiced to see grandpa and how all the
older ones among the house servants came after breakfast to shake hands with him and ask after his health,
and how he had a present for each; some of them had
presents he had brought them from North Carolina
and to the others he gave some money, and then I said,
"Everybody loves Grandpa." But Brother Junius said
that was not so. I asked him why, he said that and this
was his answer, "I do not love him-in fact I have a
deepseated grudge against him. When your sister and
I were going to be married your father and your mother
opposed it; well, they had a right-but grandparents
have no right to meddle and I dislike the governor and
always will."
I love Brother Junius and always will as he said
about Grandpa, but I think it is ugly for him to talk
that way. And why did Father and Mother object? I
have never heard of it, but I will ask Father tonight
what he meant.
November I6th.-Last night was the first opportunity I had to ask Father, he said, "I am sorry you
have heard anything about this. Mr. Taylor should
not have told you but, as he did, I will tell you this much,
it is all over, your Sister Sarah has gone to a better
land, you must forget it but I will have to explain your
grandfather's position. He did not do anything wrong
but a man rarely ever forgives interference in his love
affairs. There is nothing wrong with your grandfather;
he is a splendid man."  So, I am satisfied, though I do
not quite understand.
December ioth. —There is trouble in the air but I
cannot find out just what it is.  The grown folks keep
very quiet when we children are around and if they are
talking when we come into the room they stop right
away; I wonder what it is? When I asked father, he
said, "Some day I will tell you."  When he says tha t
I wait.
62 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
December 2oth. I know a little bit now. It is some thing Uncle Kinchen found out and told Grandpa. It
is about those same Abolitionists and it must be serious,
for the grown-up folks all look troubled. When Grand pa told what uncle Kinchen had found out, he said:
"Kinchen is trustworthy and absolutely faithful. You
know how often he and Amy have accompanied me to
Northern cities, they have frequently been approached
by Abolition agents, but their talk had no effect on them
whatever.
"Since the publication of Uncle Tom's Cabin these
agents have grown bolder and there have been instances
where they have carried off negroes, who were unwilling to leave their owners. Fearing this, I made out
manumission papers for Amy and Kinchen and had
them recorded at Halifax court house, for it was my
intention to take them with me to Boston, which is,
as you all know, the very hot-bed of Abolitionism. Before leaving home I gave them these papers and explained their meaning, telling them that henceforth they
were as free as I myself am.
"We went to Boston and just as was expected, the
Abolitionists swarmed around the old couple, like yellow jackets around a sugar kettle, but, when they
found that they were really free they lost interest and
let them be.
"We stayed several weeks. I had business there and
when business was disposed of I paid a long-promised
visit to General Green. When we were again at home I
was very busy and did not take much notice of little
things, but one day something peculiar in Kinchen's
face made me observe him closely. I also took a good
look at Amy and she, too, seemed to have something
on her mind, so I questioned Kinchen as to the trouble.
'Marster,' said he,'it's dese here Free Stiffikites,
what you gin ter me an' Amy, we ain't got no use fer
dem.   Ef't gits out mongst de plantations'round
63 
Through Some Eventful Years
erbout dat we is free niggers, we won't ever hav' no
'spectability nur standin' in dis kummubity,"
This made us laugh and then Fannie and Bill brought
in the bedroom candles and we said "good night" and
went to bed. I did not sleep well. I dreamed the Abolitionists were after me and they like the Devil as uncle
Aleck describes him, with horns and cloven feet. When
I told father this he said "That is the fruit cake you
ate last night," Perhaps it was.
Dec. 23rd.-Almost Christmas-preparations are
well under way and all the family will dine with us on
Christmas day. The next day we go to Live Oak; the
next day we spend with Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy; the next day we go to Uncle Tom's; the next day
we spend in town with Aunt Sue and Uncle Arvah and
then we go to Walnut Hill, to Uncle William and Aunt
Mary.
Isn't it great to have so many kinsfolk? We always
have a Christmas tree at our house and it has presents
for everyone; not just one present, but lots.
January 8th.-This is Aunt Sue's birthday and she
and her three dear little boys spent the day with us.
They have only been gone a little while. Aunt Sue says
her mother wanted to name her for General Jackson
because she was born on the anniversary of the battle
of New Orleans. I am so glad, so glad she did not, for
I am named for aunt Sue and how I would hate to be
named Andrew Jackson. The baby came too, but she is
so little.
January 24th. —Uncle Bailey is here. He came last
night and brought Aunt Eliza and Eddie. He is going
to leave them with us for a good long while. The people of Jefferson have had some tro,,ble with the Abolitionists.  Why can't they stay at the N,orth and let our
people alone? Uncle-Bailey was once a general in the
army and afterward he was Captain of Regulators in
Jefferson County. I love to listen while he tells of the
64 
Leaves From a Child's Diary
stirring scenes in which he has taken part. Last night,
when he was telling how ugly these men from the North
had talked to the negroes in Jefferson, brother Junius
said, "General, did you know what to do with them?"
Uncle Bailey's blue eyes looked like they had sparks in
them but all he said was, "I did." I shall not ask what
it was.
February 9th.-John Robinson's Circus is coming to
Tallahassee. I hope we can go. The posters are pasted
all over town.  Frances is begging to go.
March 4th.-We went to that circus and we took
the measles, the black measles, which the doctors say
is the very worst kind. People are dying with it in
every direction for, as Father says, a circus is like a
magnet and draws from all sides. There have been
three deaths on Pine Hill Plantation and five on the
Horse-shoe. Aunt Ginnie and Frances are both very
ill and there are many more cases. All in the house had
it "lightly" except our little Mattie. Father and Mother and Brother Junius sat up with her for a week and
now Father and Mother are sitting up with Aunt Ginnie, who is so sick and all of us love her as well as it
she was one of the white family.
March 9th, I857.-This is terrible.  Aunt Ginnie
is dead. Isaac and Jane died in the night and Mother
thinks my Lulu may die. Uncle Tony is wild with grief
and Mother is almost as bad. They have sent to town
for a coffin for Aunt Ginnie and they have dressed her
in a pretty white dress with a white silk kerchief around
her neck. She does not look like her dear self. We
will all miss Aunt Ginnie.
March I Sth.-Mother says death has taken his toll
from us for none have died since that dreadful night
Aunt Ginnie an h ne others died. Lulu is getting well
and so are all the rest.
March 25th.-My birthday came and went and
nobody thought of it, not even I, myself. There was
65 
Through Some Eventful Years
so much else to think of and so much else to do. This
is the year 1 857 and I am eleven years old.  There has
been so much trouble that we have not been to Live Oak
in a long time. Grandpa has been often to see us though
and he says we must spend this next summer with him
at Enfield. Father and Mother have consented and I
know we will feel better to go to him and try to forget.
So, we are planning to go in July. Father does not
think he can leave home before that time.
April 6th, I857.-We are trying to get back to our
studies again. Sister Mag is practising her music once
more and Sister Mart has never stopped hers She
loves her music so dearly. Mattie is well again and she
is so dear.
66 
CHAPTER VI
A SUMMER IN NORTH CAROLINA
HE  heated term of 1 856 was spent at the sea-side.
That winter Aunt Robinson again taught the
children; you may be sure they learned, too, for a
stricter teacher or one more thorough never lived.
This brings us to the Spring of I857 with preparations going on for a visit to Enfield, the home of Governor Branch, in Halifax County, North Carolina. On
the Aucilla River some trouble had developed but it
was soon put down. The papers told us of similar
troubles in Louisiana and Mississippi, also along the
coast country of South Carolina but it seemed to have
blown over.
We had no means of knowing how all this had affected the negroes. It was something we could not talk
to them about. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" had reached its
hundred and thirtieth edition; it had been translated
into almost every language; it was the most popular
book in all the world and yet it was a tissue of lies from
beginning to end. What could we poor Southerners
do?  "Whom  the Lord loveth He  chasteneth, and
scourgeth every son whom He receives."
Mrs. Stowe had gone to England, where she was entertained by royalty and from thence she made similar
visits to every court in Europe. By means of "The
Underground Railway" many slaves were enticed from
their homes. These, for the most part, were never
heard of again, but now and then one of intelligence
and imagination, like Fred Douglass, would flash like
a meteor across the Abolition skies. The tales he told,
as false as those told by "Aunt Harriet" herself, were
sent broadcast to the world. None questioned their
truth and like all big lies they grew with the telling.
(67) 
Through Some Eventful Yeas
Sitting on Governor Branch's porch one summer
morning we saw a man approaching the house, bearing
in his hand a case which suggested a piano tuner, and
such he proved to be and, when the piano had received
the finishing touches, we were invited in to hear some
music. The man proved to be a fine performer with a
taste for classical music. After playing awhile, he sang
some selections from different operas and then turning
on the piano stool, he said, "How would you like to hear
one of the very latest?" Of course we wanted to hear
it, and after a plaintive prelude he sang:
"I went to New York City a month or two ago,
A huntin' fur dat lady Aunt Harriet Beecher Stowe,
I seed de Abolitions, dey sed she's gone away,
Dey tole me in de city dere warn't no place ter stay.
Oh, Oh, Oh, Aunt Harriet Beecher Stowe,
How could you leab de country an' serve pore Niggah so?"
"I cudn't git no wurk, I cudn't git no dinner
An' den I wished dis fugitive wus back in Old Virginner.
Oh, Oh, Oh, Aunt Harriet Beecher Stowe,
How could you leab de country an' serve pore Niggah So?"
After the lapse of so many years this is all we can
resuscitate but it is enough. "You would not dare to
sing that song in New York City?" some one questioned.
"Oh, yes," he said. "There is not a spot in the South
more Southern than New York City, itself."
He told us then of the strong anti-abolition sentiment
in New York and the friends the South had there. It
was pleasant to listen to and we hoped it might be true.
During this visit to Enfield we took many short trips
to other places; to Schocco Springs; to Old Point Comfort; to the White Sulphur Springs in Virginia; to various other points of interest. Then there were the many
little excursions to nearby places, such as visiting the
innumerable relatives; going to Weller's vineyard
where were found such grapes as grew nowhere else
68 
,4 Summer in ANorth Carolina
in such perfection, as in the Old North State. We will
let the little girl tell of some of these pleasures.
We did not find that the ghosts of Abolitionism were
laid in North Carolina, on the contrary the subject was
not tabooed as with us in Florida. Nearer the base it
seemed to be and was often the subject of general conversation, yet even so but little could be known of the
sentiment among the negroes. There had been at times,
both in North and South Carolina, uprisings of a more
or less serious nature.
THE DIARY RESUMED:
May 29th, I857.-We are really going to North
Carolina and Father is going with us this time. It is
almost too good to be true.  There is one cloud in my
sky. Mother says we must take Frances with us that
she may see her mother and grandmother.   Now,
Frances is very bad and nobody likes her very much,
I have grown fond of her. Mother says we always love
the child who gives us the most trouble and all the family laugh at me about "my objectionable little maid,"
as they call her but she will not be any trouble after we
get to Enfield, for Aunt' Amy and Ann will have her all
the time with them.
Aunt Robinson says we must keep on at school until
the Friday before we leave. I am glad of that but it
is hard to think of your lessons when so many pleasant
thoughts are coming to your mind. She is going with
us and Sister Mag says she is thankful the lessons are
not to be continued all summer. But Sister Mag is a
grown young lady now and does not study any more;
she sings and plays a great deal and I love to hear her,
she has such a sweet voice.
June 5th, I857.-Our black folks are all sorry we
are going away, I hope Aunt Dinah will take good care
of Lavinia. I have given her the trunkful of clothes for
69 
Through Some Eventful Years
they will be too small for her by the time we get back.
I am wondering, too, what will become of me without
my Lulu, I do miss my black Mammy dreadfully when
we go traveling, but she has little children who need her
even more than I do.
June 20th, I857.-We have had beautiful weather
until today, it is raining hard and the wind is blowing
like a storm.
June 3oth, 1857.-The rainy season is certainly with
us. It has rained nearly every day for ten days and
tomorrow we start for Enfield. The roads through
Georgia are never very good in wet weather because
there are so many little streams everywhere.
This visit to North Carolina was always looked forward to as a great event; there were no railroads at
that time south of Albany, Georgia, and travel to
the railroad terminus was in carriages. Naturally it
was slow, two days were spent on the road and if there
was any delay, two nights as well.
Southern Georgia, at that. time was an almost unbroken forest of stately and beautiful pines. The turpentine operator had not laid his destructive hand upon
them and only one saw-mill showed up on the way to
Albany. Houses were few and far between and if the
weather permitted, camping out was preferred to seeking accommodations in the homes of the settlers, for
these homes were of the crudest designs and finish. The
floors were "puncheon" the chimneys "stick and dirt."
There was seldom room enough for the family themselves, but so kind and hospitable were these Georgians
that the traveler seldom, or never asked in vain. It was
the country par excellence, for children. We have sometimes counted as many as eight in one home, like steps,
each a little smaller than the next until the baby was
reached.
We have often wondered, and we wish some scien
7o 
,I Summer in North Carolina
tific investigator would find out, and tell us, why so
many of these South Georgia families were blondes, of
the fairest type too, and "lint-white locks" were the
prevailing style. We loved to ride through this land
of pines; the air was delicious, the wiregrass was studded with flowers of every hue and from the clear, limpid
waters of the Ocklocknee to the rolling waves of the
muddy Flint, streams were abundant and sometimes so
deep as to be dangerous.
71 
CHAPTER VII
LEAVES FROM THIE DIARY
NFIELD, North Carolina, July i6th, 1857.-We
have been here more than a week and this is the
first time I have thought of you, my diary. Before we
left home I let Brother Junius read a few pages of these
records and he says I write correctly but I do not tell
of events in a way to make them clear to those, who, in
future years may read them. "But Brother Junius," I
said, "I am not writing for the future, but for myself,
and I understand."
"Yes," he answered, "you think so, but it may be as
I say, so I want you to write out fully all that you think
is of sufficient importance to put in your diary; most
especially do I ask this of you for this summer. You
know Mattie is all my world and everything you write,
all the pleasures you share, all the adventures you meet
up with, and the new acquaintances you make will be
of interest to me."
So I have promised to do my best. We left home
on the Ist of July. The clouds were black, and before
we reached Duncansville the rain was pouring down;
we reached the river in safety but the road was under
water all the way. The rain had come to be just a mist
by this time and the river was so high it was impossible
to ford it as we usually did. An old man had a flat-boat
there and said he could take us over. Father said it
looked doubtful but there was no other way to get
across. There were two baggage wagons, three carriages and a double buggy and it took five trips across
to get us all to the other side. The ferry-man was
old and thin, his hair was long and white and blew about
in the wind. He wore neither hat nor shoes and as he
poled us across he sang:
(72) 
Leazes from the Diary7
"Jesus wept, and well He might,
To see the sinner take his flight."
Brother Junius thought this was poor comfort and
Aunt Robinson looked severe and said he was a wicked
old man. Once on the other side we made better time
but there was rain all the way. Not a hard, washing
down-pour, as it had been, but enough to be disagreeable. That night we had to seek shelter and we were
fortunate in finding a clean, new house. Only one room,
to be sure, and there were fourteen white people in our
party, but Mrs. Morgan was most accommodating and
she was well-paid for her trouble.
Next morning we made a very early start and reached
Albany that night.  We thought our troubles were at
an end when we boarded the train, but not so, a few
miles from Macon there had been a wash-out and the
train turned on its side and frightened us half to death.
The smoky little lights all went out and the lanterns of
the trainmen were the only lights to be seen. Frances
took that time to be just as bad as she could be and
that is pretty trying.  Now she is almost as old as I am
and dear little Mattie, who is five years younger, was
as good as gold. We were delayed several hours and
so we missed the train we should have gone on. We
stayed at the Lanier House and mother let Fannie take
us walking around the city. It was rather wet but pleasant in spite of that. Father and mother could not go
with us because they had company. I do believe they
know people wherever they go.
When we left Macon we thought we would get to
Enfield the next morning, but it was an awful spell of
weather and we made many stops, we were six days on
the road and when we reached grandpa's we found him
almost wild with grief, because Dr. Holland, who was
on the opposite side of the river when we were considering whether to risk the old ferry-man or not, had
73 
Through Some Eventful Years
reached Enfield the day before and had told it that he
was sure, if we attempted to cross we were drowned.
Everything was in readiness for us and a few hours' rest
made us all new again. It is delightful here and all the
kinsfolk are just fine. I do love kinsfolk.
September 6th, i857.-Little Diary, I am afraid you
stand a poor showing here, where there is so much going
on, but I can write when I get back to Florida and use
my eyes and ears while I am skipping around in this
exciting fashion. We are at Shocco Springs, in Warren
County, North Carolina. It is a lovely place; there are
five hundred people here, the manager says. There are
more than usual because there is to be a tournament
next week and after that a fancy ball. It will be fine
and we children are looking forward to it all as eagerly as the grown people. Mrs. Brownlee's pretty niece,
Miss Winslow, is going as a shepherdess and she has
borrowed my brown leghorn hat to wear.
There are a number of nice children here, Cora and
Valentine Jordan, from Charleston; the Stanford boys
from Petersburg, and a lot of others, including those of
our party, Theora, Eliza and John Branch, of Enfield;
my little step-uncles, who are no older than I am, and
Mattie and I. The grown people talk of nothing but
the ball and we follow suit.
September I oth.-Well, the tournament is over! The
knights were not as prettily dressed as those in Tallahassee, but the riding was good and they had the ball
but I have been a bad girl and the worst of it is I still
think I was right. Of course mother is right but I
cannot see it yet. It was this way, the girls I play with
had agreed that we would wear white dresses to the
ball. I did not think mother would care and I did not
have a chance to ask her, for she was visiting Uncle
Washington Branch and Aunt Julia. The morning of
the tournament I put on a rose-colored lawn and was
74 
Leaves from the Diary
on my way out of the room when mother called me
back.
"Susie," she said, "take off that dress and put on the
white one with the white ribbons."
"Oh, mother," I said, "please let me wear this, I want
to wear that pretty white dress to the ball tonight."
She made me change my dress and I cried and was
ugly about it. I know that was wrong and I will not
say one word but I was unhappy all day. That night all
the girls had on white dresses but me. My dress was
a gold-colored silk tissue, trimmed with lace and grandma talked to me and told me my dress was far handsomer than any little girl there had on, but grandma does
not understand. I do not care to have prettier or nicer
things than others have, I only want to be like the rest.
The Fairchild children in Mrs. Sherwood's books
always tried to remember all the bad things they did
and prayed about them constantly. Maybe this is not
the way I ought to feel but I shall try to forget this
troubleand I shall be such a good child that mother will
forget, too.
September I 2th.-We are at Enfield once more. This
morning grandpa called me to get my bonnet and go
to ride with him. When I was little I rode on a pillow
in front of him but now I am so big I ride on a horse by
myself. I rode Betsy Trotwood this morning. We went
to the apple orchard. The apples had ripened up amazingly while we were gone. We rode down by the
spring, where I had never been before and we stopped
under a tree loaded with beautiful red apples and
grandpa said, "These are queer apples, examine them
and see if you can find out why they are queer?"
I looked and at least a dozen apples had my name
on them in white on the red skin. It was so wonderful
and I could hardly believe grandpa had written on these
apples with a piece of tallow and then covered the place
with a strip of cloth. I was so pleased and I am just
75 
Through Some Eventful Years
as proud as can be. Haven't I got the dearest grandpa?
Father is going to New York tomorrow. He will take
Sister Mag and Sister Mart and Cousin Lizzie and
Miss Hennie Winchester who is Grandma's niece. I
want to go with him but Mother thinks I would be in
the way. She says when I am eighteen she will take
me to New York herself and buy me all the things a
young lady should have. I wish I was going now
though, for Father is taking them to Niagara and Saratoga and they will stop quite a while in New York
City and see all the sights. We are going to Old Point
Comfort.
September  15th.-I am glad I did not beg to go with
father and the girls. Old Point Comfort is a most interesting place. Fortress Monroe, with its moat is not
like anything I ever saw before, the general commanding is an old friend of Grandpa's and he lets us look
over the fort and see so many things. The officers'
quarters are inside the fort, the men are drilled nearby
and they have a splendid band.
We are stopping at the Hygeia Hotel, the ball-room
is very large and every night the band plays and the
enormous room is filled with dancers. There are no
children here, so we do not dance but sit quietly by
Mother and Grandma and look on.
Professor DeBow, of DeBow's Review is here.
Grandpa says he is a very brilliant man. Last night
at supper-table the conversation turned on abolitionism.
The people here do not avoid it as we do in Florida.
Professor DeBow said, "The entire North is saturated
with this unfortunate'ism; here and there you find a
nugget of pure gold, which cannot be contaminated but
they are few. I see in the future, as an outgrowth of
this movement a disregard for the sanctity of the marriage relation, a setting aside of the command to honor
thy father and thy mother" while the Golden Rule sinks
into oblivion. Even the field of Poesy is invaded by
76 
Leaves from  the Diary
this spirit, a late poem from the pen of one of the
North's favorite poets reads like,this:
'Dusky daughters of a down-trod race,' etc.
"Take my word for it, there is trouble ahead-God
grant that our united efforts may avert it."
I have tried to write this word for word just as the
great man spoke it.
September 2oth.-Father has come back from New
York. They did not stay as long as we expected. I
am so glad to see him but sorry to leave Old Point Comfort.  We have had a fine time here.  Grandma has
taught me to swim and I have been out to the rip-raps.
(I hope that is spelled right) it is a kind of lighthouse
but not like the one at St. Marks; they say it is built
up from the bottom with stones and the waves lash
around it all day long.
September 22nd.-We came over to Portsmouth
yesterday on a large steamer.  We reached here in the
afternoon and as soon as the hotel people recognized
Grandpa they sent large trays filled with delicious
things to eat as a compliment to him. I forgot to tell
that the people everywhere know Grandpa and show
him so much attention.
We had hardly finished eating when a waiter came
with a letter, on a tray. It was an invitation to our
party to visit the man-of-war "Pennsylvania". We went
and had a glorious time. The Stars and Stripes were
flying and the band playing when the small boat we
were in drew up to the vessel's side. At a word from
the captain, they began to play, "All hail to the Chief."
Father says that is because Grandpa was once Secretary of the Navy.
The Captain had his men show us all over the vessel
we drank some water, which had been in the casks for
twenty years, we saw the shining weapons which hung
77 
Through Some Eventful Years
ready for use and we felt very proud of this great ship.
The captain invited us to come aboard after supper and
have a dance and the young ladies in the party would
have liked it but Grandpa did not accept.
I am writing this on the train for Enfield and must
stop to see the Roanoke River.
September 3oth.-We have seen many places this
summer; we have met many new kinspeople and now
we must think of going home. Mother has sent Fannie
on ahead to Charleston, S. C., to see her kin there for
a few days and we will stop for her on our way home.
Ann is waiting on Mother until we leave. I am sorry
to say goodbye to all these dear ones and most especially Grandpa, but it will be nice to get home again.
October I 2th.-We have passed Charleston and
Fanny is with us once more. We are taking Frances
back, too. I asked her this morning if she had a good
time in Enfield?
She said, "No, I didn't, I ain't done nothing all this
time but nuss Mammy's baby an' I fair hates him, I'm
glad der ain't no babies at home."
"Don't you love your little brother?'" I asked.
"No, I don't love him one bit, I hates young niggers."
Mother told her that was an ugly way to talk but she
just rolled her big black eyes and pouted. She is not
amiable.
October 22nd, I 857.-It is so pleasant to be at home
again and see everybody, that I have neglected my diary. Mother had her carriage out and took us around
the neighborhood; it was such fun to tell Cousin Rob
about our trip.  I did want him to go with us just the
worst in the world. Buddy has been very busy all the
summer, there has been so much sickness and still is.
Father took me to the Horse-shoe and we saw dear
little Lorah and aunt Pendar and the ducks and geese.
Everybody seems to be well on both plantations except
78 
Leavzes from the Diary
uncle Alick, who will never be well again and aunt Polly, who has "Bin tricked by de Kunjer-man and is full
of lizards and snakes." That is what she says is the
matter with her. Anyway she does not do one thing
but sit in her house with Lilah to wait on her. Her
legs are bound around with strips of cloth and she talks
about the reptiles running up and down her limbs all the
time. I asked father what was the matter with her and
he said "varicose veins," so I shall not believe in the
snakes.
My Lulu and her children are well and I am so glad
to have her again. Robert has kept well while we were
away. Robert, you know, is Fanny's only child. He is
ten years old and very small for his age. Mother told
Fanny, when we were planning to go away for the summer, that she would like to have her go too, but if she
felt bad about leaving her child she would take one of
the younger maids who had no children. Fannie did
not want to be left behind. She spoke up without hesitation:
"Miss Patsey, I know Lulu will take good care of
him, just as good as I could myself, and I don't want to
gie my place to none'o dese gals."
That settled the matter and Brother Junius, who
spends one day in the week at Pine Hill, when we are
away, promised to write a letter to her for Robert and
tell her how he gets along. This he did and now she
is at home and nothing has happened to him. Each of
us brought Robert a present but I think Fanny must
have bought him one in every town we visited, she
had such an armful, toys, candy, new clothes, a cap, a
hat, fancy shoes for Sundays and a small umbrella; he
wvas almost wild with joy.
October 25th, I857.-Mother told us at the break,fast table this morning that a new governess was coming next week. She was born in England, was educated
at The Patapasco Institute in Maryland and comes with
79 
Through Some Eventful Years
the highest recommendation from Mother's old friend,
Mrs. Heywood.
Both pianos have been tuned, the school room is
being put in apple-pie order, the flowers around the
door have been worked and trimmed and I will be glad
to get to work once more.  Mattie will go to school this
winter, her little head of golden curls will look sweet
bending over the desk.
November I st, I857.-School begins today. Mother
wanted Miss Damer to wait until tomorrow but she
said "no." We had a big dancing party last night with
a frolic for Hallowe'en and Mother was afraid Miss
Damer would be tired but she said she was not. She
dances beautifully and sings gloriously. She is pretty,
too, with quantities of chestnut curls.  In front, just
above her forehead is the funniest roll of wirelike hair.
It is as stiff as wire when you touch it and just the color
of her curls, she says it is a~ "family mark."
I told her how I loved to hear her sing and she said
she had studied music for the stage but her people
would not hear of it. We have all new books as mother
had written to Miss Damer to buy in Baltimore the
books that were used at Patapasco, so we have Woodbridges & Willard's High School Geography, Willard's
Universal History, Boyd's Rhetoric, Brewer's Science
of Things Familiar, Davies' Algebra, Scholar's Companion, Ollendorf's French, Ware's Elements of Character. The last is not one of the books used at Patapsco
but is one father selected; perhaps some of the others
were, too.
We read alternately in the Sixth McGuffey and the
Sixth Towns Readers; we also write compositions
every two weeks and recite alternate weeks. I know
what is coming because Miss Damer has programmes
which she has tacked up on the school room wall. I
began with Frances' lessons as soon as we got'home;
she had not forgotten and she is learning nicely now; she
80 
Leaves from the Diary
is never bad about her books and she studies often when
I have not told her to. Mother says that speaks well
for both of us.
November 5th, I 8 5 7.-Today ends our first week at
school. Such a delightful surprise; cousins Theora and
Eliza have come from North Carolina to go to school
here and cousins Anne and Alice have come, too, also
cousin Jennie Whitaker. We will have a large school
for sister Mart and Mattie also attend and we have
three of the neighborhood children.
Our school room is large and airy with plenty of
light but there are trees around it which prevents the
sun from shining in too bright. We have a large blackboard on an easel with a musical score, as well as other
things. We all study music and a music-master comes
out from Tallahassee. That gives Miss Damer time
to play and sing for us-that is, when she feels like it.
Her name is Letitia Hannah Damer, and we are all
wild about her. She is not like anyone we ever saw before. I forgot to say we opened school on Tuesday and
Miss Damer would teach Saturday to make the week,
she has such a nice way of making us study.
November 7th, i857.-This is Monday night, all
went well in school. Miss Damer explains things to us
and makes our lessons so interesting. We are studying
Smith's Grammar, too. We had studied Murray's
Grammar to aunt Robinson-it is a big, leather-covered
book with a rule for everything. Smith's is a small
book and easy.
November 2 1st, I 857. —Monday night again.  Miss
Darner makes us study for an hour after supper, so I
have very little time to write in my diary. Lessons
grow more interesting every day.
Miss Damer does not want me to teach Frances; she
says it takes time which should be devoted to other
things and father and mother agree with her. I have told
Frances and she is sorry, but she promises that she will
8i 
Through Some Eventful Years
read some in her third reader every day and try to remember what she has learned. When vacation comes I
can teach her as I did before.
December 12th, I857.-We are all excited over the
largest Christmas tree we have ever had. So far it
is only planned but we are making gifts and sister Mag
bought me a pair of large wooden needles and some
white Shetland wool to knit a nubia for mother. It has
to be three yards long, maybe I'll have to sit up nights to
get it done.
December 22nd, I857.-The tree is up and we are
making decorations. Miss Damer took us for a walk
in the woods to select the tree and Peter and Mack, who
are carpenters, brought it to the house and nailed it
securely to the bottom of a large tub; this was filled with
earth and planted over with the soft green moss which
grows beside the stream. There are also some partridge berries planted in it. The tree is a beautifully
shaped short-leaved pine.
Miss Damer knows so many things to do to make it
pretty. We have dozens and dozens of colored wax
tapers and we have picked the prettiest pine cones and,
after dampening them slightly, we rubbed them with
sifted flour. We then fastened them with fine wire to
the branches of the tree and, warming the end of each
candle to make it stick, we put each on a pine cone for a
candle-stick.
When the decorations are done Miss Damer is going
to shut us out while she and Sister Mag and Mother
and Brother Junius put the presents on. All the kinsfolk are coming to dine here and there will be presents
for everybody. We do not put the Christmas gifts for
the servants on the tree, but give them Christmas morning, when they all assemble in the back yard.
Dec. 28th, I857.-Oh, the fun we have had.  A
dance Christmas eve; the beautiful tree, with the
splendid fruit it bore, the dinner which mother takes so
82 
Leaves from the Diary
much pride in (she is just the best housekeeper in the
world); the merry games Christmas night; the games
the grown people join us in; the visiting around the
family circle.  Oh!it is too jolly for words.
There is one thing, however, I do not quite like, we
will not see Miss Damer until the two weeks holiday is
over. She is very attractive and Mrs. Call and Mrs.
Gamble and Aunt Sue (Mrs. Hopkins) are entertaining her at their different homes. I know she will enjoy
it and we must not be selfish. Mother's nubia got done
and she likes it and wears it.
January s15th, i858.-A New Year and two weeks
have passed without an entry here. It takes a little
time to settle down to study after a holiday, then, too,
we have been hearing so much of Miss Damer's visit
to town. She has organized a Shakespeare Club, of
which she is the President, and the young ladies and
gentlemen of Tallahassee have gone wild over it. Miss
Damer is a splendid reader. She added elocution to our
course of study after the first month. The Club meets
twice a month and she is to go in on Friday afternoon
previous. Mother offered to send her but Mr. Wilk
Call and Mr. Villepigue and Dr. Shine are all contending for the honor of coming for her and bringing her
home Sunday evening.
February 4th, i 858.-I never did love my studies as
well. I love them all except algebra. I never did like
arithmetic and this is as bad. I am stupid where figures
are concerned. We have such long lessons that we are
well on in our books and have finished Brewer's Science
and have taken Johnston's Chemistry in its place. Along
with that we are reading Chemistry of Common Life.
One does not really enjoy the good things to eat though
when the eating and drinking is reduced to a science.
March 2nd, i 8 5 8.-Compositions are such fun. Miss
Daamer selects our subjects for us and we write absolutely what we please.  On Wednesday we hand them
83 
Through Some Eventful Years
in to her and she corrects mistakes and explains to us
why the corrections were mistakes. Then she sends out
invitations to the neighbors, for Friday afternoon and
she reads the compositions aloud. We have a house
full and they all say that we are improving rapidly. We
finished Rhetoric today and we take up Kames' Elements of Criticism.
We have gone through Willard's Universal History
and we have in its place a very entertaining history of
England, with many illustrations. We were looking
these over when cousin Alice exclaimed, "Oh, girls, look
here; this picture of King George is exactly like Miss
Damer." We looked and all could see the likeness,
even the roll of rough hair above the forehead, the
profile was exact. Miss Daamer came in and we held
up the picture for her to see the likeness. She merely
glanced at it and said, "Yes, I know, I am his granddaughter." Her voice was sad and she immediately
rang the bell for us to get to our places.
I felt bad and after school I asked mother what it
meant?  She said, "I cannot tell you anything more
than that, you must not ask Miss Damer any questions,
there is a mystery. She told me when she came. She
has not done anything wrong, she has only been unfortunate." And with that I had to be content.
April 6th, 1858.-Such a delightful happening today
-too good to be true.  "All's well that ends well,"
they say, and this did not end well. The last lesson in
old Davies' Algebra was recited just before noon and
I walked to the open window and pitched the book as
far as I could send it into the tangle of sweetbriar, just
beyond. The weather is very warm for April and the
sun was like July, but Miss Damer made me go and
pick up that book and bring it to her.
Nothing on earth is quite so thorny as the sweetbriar.  I wear low-necked, short-sleeved dresses, and
my face, my hands and my arms are torn and bleeding.
84 
Leaves from the Diary
I feel ashamed for father to see me, for this is a "bad
mark" indeed. We will study geometry now. I think
I shall like it better than algebra.
May I st, 1 85 8.-Our new drawing books came from
New York last night; ever since we started to school
we have been taking a simple course in drawing but
these new books are much more difficult. It is the course
taught at the Marietta Military Academy and they are
recommended by cousin Johnnie Bradford, who graduated from that institute. There are three large books
and Father ordered, to come along with them sheets ot
bristol board; also thin drawing books the size of the
large ones so we can copy conveniently, and dozens of
pencils.  Miss Daamer says if I will try my best she will
let me copy The Temple of Time as a birthday gift for
Father.
May 7th, I858.-We have been through the grammar twice and stood a good examination on it, so we
are to put it aside and take up botany in its stead. The
botany we will study is by Mrs. Lincoln Phelps, who
was Miss Damer's teacher. I know I shall love botany
for Father is a fine botanist and he has taught me to
analyze flowers and to recognize many plants by their
leaves. Brother Junius says I do not write about anything but my lessons but I do not think of much else.
When your whole mind is on your studies there is not
room for other things.
We take long walks in search of specimens and we
are to have herbariums, in which to arrange and classify these specimens, after they have been properly
pressed.   Miss  Damer  goes twice a month  to the
Shakespeare Club and it must be a fine amusement for
all who belong to it take such a deep interest. We
miss her when she is away, she gets letters sometimes,
which trouble her, but Mother says I must not ask questions.
Mother is teaching Frances to embroider and Lulu
85 
Through Some Eventful Years
is teaching her to hemstitch and roll and whip; she is
also learning to make tatting and to crochet. I'm afraid
she will get ahead of me she will be so smart.
May 29th.-Cousin Lize is the best musician in the
school, except Sister Mart, who is a wonderful performer and never tires of the piano. I love music but
my broken arm hurts me so when I have practised even
a little while. I enjoy hearing the other girls play and
I love Sister Mag's songs and Miss Damer's music is
splendid.
June 5th, I858.-Sister Mag has a number of new
songs and I always sit beside her when she is learning
them, even if I have to study out of hours to get my
lessons; last night, I sang one of these songs with her,
she said I sang it all right. It is a patriotic song; there
is a colored picture of The Star-Spangled Banner on the
cover and the tune is fine, also the words.
Today I went to ride with Father and we were talking of Sister Mag and I offered to sing the pretty new
song for him. When I sang
"Oh, perish the heart and the hand
That would mar our motto of
Many in one,"
Father said, "Take care, my baby, you may be calling
down condemnation on your own." Of course I wanted
to know what he meant, for "E Pluribus Unum" had
seemed a beautiful sentiment to me. Then Father, explained what he meant, for the first time I heard of the
strong, deep feeling of dislike and mistrust, which existed between the North and the South.  For the first
time the much dreaded Abolitionists took a tangible
form.
I asked many questions and Father answered patient.
ly and when we reached home he called me to the library and gave me a book by John C. Calhoun to read.
86 
Leaves from the Diary
He said I could come to him if there was anything I
did not understand.
The doctrine of State's Rights is very clear, perhaps
it is clearer because I have so often heard it discussed
by Father and the various gentlemen, who talk with
him in the library. I study my lessons in there, and I
sometimes stop to listen. I have learned more of the
history of Virginia from the conversations between
Father and Mr. Lane, who teaches in the Military
School in Tallahassee, than I ever found in the books.
June 27th, I858.-I have read a great deal in the
two volumes of the Writings of John C. Calhoun and
Father has told me still more. I have found out something else, Mother does not approve of slavery-she
would be glad not to own a single slave, you see they
are called slaves in these books I have been reading.
She says her reason for this is that the white people
are the real slaves. She thinks as time goes on it will
become more so and she wishes to see them all freed and
sent to Liberia. I do not want to give up my Lulu, nor
do I want her to be sent to Liberia.
July I st, I 858.-Uncle Tony has had another stroke
of paralysis; this time it is much worse than before.
He is Lulu's father, and Mother has excused her from
all duties in the house, that she may take care of him.
Lulu's house is just outside the back yard, it has one
large room and two smaller ones; uncle Tony stays in
the large room where he can have all the company he
wants.  He likes everybody to come to see him, that is,
he did, but now, since this last stroke he cannot speak,
though he understands all that is said to him. Mother
has his meals cooked and sent to him and Lulu eats from
our table just as she always has done. Mother says a fire
this warm weather would make him uncomfortable.
July 2oth.-We are studying hard. Miss Damer
invites all in the neighborhood to come every other Fri.
day afternoon to hear us examined. Father has re
87 
Through Some Eventful Years
quested the pleasure of examining us on "Elements of
Character." I am so glad I really learned the lessons
as we went along, for now I am not afraid. Father
says if he could be sure his baby would live according
to the rules laid down in that book he would be satisfied and happy. I shall take care of my book as long
as I live and read it over now and then.
July 3oth, I858.-Dr. English and Charley came
last night to spend the next two months with us. Charley
is a dear little boy and I try to like the doctor but he
is a very fine mathematician and he does not take it
into account that we are going to school. He wants us
to engage in all sorts of abstruse problems, such as
distances between stars, the movements of the sun and
the earth, and every sort of calculation, which astronomy calls for.  I do not like figures and it hurts my
eyes to look long at the heavens and I do get so sleepy,
Miss Damer says she does not intend to allow it this
summer.
August ist, i858.-Cousin Nolan is here on a visit;
he is cousin Jack Whitaker's son and they live in Louisiana. Cousin Nolan has been at college until four weeks
ago and his eyes are so bad that he cannot go back. He
is to stay in Florida for a year and see if his eyes will
not improve. He cannot use them at all and has to
wear a bandage all day; at night he sits in the dark. He
is something of a nuisance for he sits in the school room
door, or sprawls on the floor and makes fun of our
recitations and compositions. Brother Junius tells him
he is sure he could not do as well himself, and then he
laughs. He is full of fun and very good natured. He
is twenty years old. Father says big boys always love
to tease girls younger than themselves and he is suffering so we must be kind to him.
August 25th, i858.-This is Father's birthday and
my picture of The Temple of Time was ready for him.
88 
Leaves from the Diary
He was pleased and surprised. It is prettily framed and
is hanging on the Library wall.
August 26th.-Miss Damer has such an odd plan for
the month of September. School should end the last
Friday in August, but she wants school to continue
through September and then another term would begin
in October. We have been at home all the summer.
All the family have kept well and our house is cool and
airy. We have been quite comfortable. Her idea is to
change the hours devoted to study in this way, instead of
riding horseback from dawn to seven o'clock, we are
to give up the rides and go instead to the school room
and study and recite until we are called to breakfast at
half past eight. At nine we return to our studies and
at twelve o'clock we will be through for the day, except
for music.
At first Mother and Father were not willing, but
when Miss Damer explained to them that in this way
we would finish some of the books and also advance in
others, thus enabling us to finish the prescribed course
in the succeeding ten months, they gave their consent.
Some of the girls refused to do this as they wished to
have some time for visiting, but there are eight of us
in all to follow this new plan.
September I8Sth.-Such a strange thing has happened. It seems that Mother has known, ever since Miss
Darner came to live with us, that there was some mystery where she was concerned but we did not know
what.  This morning a gentleman came and asked to
see Miss Sandys. Mother knew whom he meant and
sent to the school room for Miss Damer. He proved
to be a barrister from London, who came to represent
her guardian and brought papers with him to prove his
identity. These same papers told that she was the
granddaughter of King George of England and she had
inherited a large fortune, her name was Letitia Hannah
Sandys and she had to go immediately to London. She
89 
Through Some Eventful Years
was overjoyed for she had been looking forward to
this fortune and the call to England. We were distressed beyond measure. We love her and she is the
best teacher we ever had.
The gray-eyed Englishman gave us a talk, while he
was waiting for Miss Damer.  First he asked why we
loved her so well. This was easily explained and then
he asked if we would like to hear something of her history. Of course we would, so he began by telling us
of Prince George, of England, who loved the beautiful
and attractive Mrs. Maria Fitz Herbert. She would
not listen to him at first but finally he persuaded her to
marry him.  At this time he was Prince of Wales. The
marriage ceremony was performed by a clergyman of
the Church of England. It was in every respect, a legal
marriage, but the laws of Great Britain forbid one of
royal blood marrying a subject. This, Mrs. Fitz Herbert did not know. When George the Fourth ascended
the throne, he put aside his forbidden wife and married Caroline of Brunswick. It was a most unhappy
union, and after years of misery Queen Caroline left
him and he recalled his first wife. This lady was Miss
Damer's grandmother. Her mother married a young
army officer named Sandys.
For some reason, (he did not tell us why), he left
the British army and came to America under the assumed name of Damer.  His wife  had died and left
two small children; our Miss Damer was the oldest.
Her guardian in England looked after her education
and paid all her expenses. When she came to Florida
her guardian knew just where she was and who she was
with.  Now she was heir to a large fortune and he had
been sent to escort her to England. We might rest
assured, he said, that all would be well with her.
My heart aches at the thought of giving her up. It
is like a romance.
9o  
Mrs. White-Spunner, of PBelfast, Ireland, who, in 1857-58, as Miss
I etitia Hannah Darner, taught the children at
Pine Hill Plantation 
Leaves from the Diary
THE STORY GOES ON
Again we close the diary to explain Miss Damer.
Mrs. Bradford knew her history before employing her
to teach her children but it was to be kept a secret and
her pupils only knew that she was in some way a descendant of King George the Fourth. Her face was so
exactly like the pictures of the King that one could not
doubt. She was remarkably bright in mind and beautiful in person, despite the likeness mentioned. Her
voice would have made her fortune on the stage and
we believe she was intended by nature for an actress,
so eloquently did she render Shakespeare at the Club
meetings. Though no one knew it, she was being carefully looked after by her guardians in England. Her
father had been an officer in the British army but for
some cause, to us unknown, he had lost his position and
under an assumed name, had taken refuge in America.
Two little motherless children accompanied him and
they settled in Baltimore, where he married again.
We have told you how closely she was kept at the
Patapsco Institute and, when she left Patapsco to come
to Florida, her guardians knew just where and to whoni
she was going.
When she was sent for by Mrs. Bradford to see a
stranger her first thought was of news from England
and yet she was so' frightened that she could not, at first,
control herself.
"I have been so happy here," she cried, pale as death
she sat like a statue, while this dignified Englishman explained his errand. There were papers to be read and
signed; pictures to be compared and arrangements to
be made. We had never met an Englishman of this
type before and the interest felt was deep.
He was tall and rather spare, he wore the inevitable
"mutton chops," but even that could not destroy the
highly intellectual expression, and the steel gray eyes
9I 
Through Some Eventful Years
bespoke one who could be trusted. He had his orders
not to lose sight of her after finding her. We suppose
they felt that she might not wish to go but they need not
have had a fear, after the first few minutes she was
simply wild with delight; she was like a child.
All the family were pressed into service to help her,
while Fanny, the maid, folded and packed, all the rest
were looking around to see what could be added to contribute to her comfort. The hour of departure came
all too quickly and many were left behind to regret our
loss. There was never a young lady in Tallahassee,
who was more admired and sought after, yet she had
no money. We had almost said she had no clothes, for
the first thing Mrs. Bradford did, the morning after
her arrival, was to put a seamstress to work to mend
up such garments as she had, and materials were ordered to make more.
The young lady herself told it among her friends,
when she had become well acquainted, "I arrived in
Tallahassee on the mid-day train and was met at the
depot by a trim, dignified maid and a coachman of equal
dignity, with a message from Mrs. Bradford, to the
effect that a headache had prevented her from meeting
me herself, so she had sent a thoroughly trustworthy
maid. I was told to'bring one trunk with me and the
wagon would come in that afternoon for the rest of my
baggage.' Oh, how I laughed! I had only one small
trunk and that was not half full."
It seems an allowance was placed in the hands of her
father, for her use but it had never reached her. Her
expenses at school were paid directly from England.
She made us many promises to write, but it was
months before we heard from her, she was in the midst
of change and excitement and happy in the spending
of a great fortune.
Later on came the news of her marriage to the Rev.
White-Spunner and her removal to a castle in Ireland.
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Leaves from the Diary
Letters came more frequently, accompanied by pressing
invitations to visit her in her Irish home; but in the
meantime the War Between the States had resulted in
the conquest of the South and the Southern people were
left poverty-stricken indeed.   No  longer was there
money for travel and we considered ourselves fortunate
if we could supply our daily needs.  To do this, required
steady and unceasing effort, with no time for pleasure
except that which comes from the consciousness of
"duty done."
93 
CHAPTER VIII
WEDDING BELLS
F course Miss Damer's departure broke up the
school at Pine Hill. The Branch cousins went to
relatives in Tennessee and were put at school in Nashville; the Bradford cousins, to the dismay of their
uncles, who tried to take the place of the father they
had lost, turned out in society as young ladies, at the
age of fourteen and sixteen. The children of the household were again placed in Aunt Robinson's care and
study went steadily on. At least it did with the writer
of the diary and the little niece, Mattie Taylor.
The two older girls were now in society and were
having a gay time. In those days entertainments were
not at all as they are now; a crowd of ladies by themselves was unknown, whether the party was a dining, an
afternoon affair or a regular party at night, there were,
as nearly as possible, an equal number of ladies and gentlemen. Those were the days when Sir Knight, even
if he did not deserve it, aspired to be a Sir Galahad.
Courtesy toward all women was the order of the day,
no doubltful remarks, no double-entendres, no satires
on womanhood were heard. The man who indulged in
such would have been speedily banished from polite
society and all knew this, consequently such innuendoes
were not in evidence to offend good taste and propriety.
A gay winter was added to by the presence of the
Misses Donelson from Tennessee and a number of
young Georgians, graduates of the preceding spring
from The University of Georgia, at Athens. Before
the season was fairly over three weddings were announced. The Bradford neighborhood was all excitement and activity, for, to prepare for such events means
(94) 
Wedding Bells
a world of work. We again read from the pages of the
diary:
June I st, 1 8 5 9.-For two months now there has been
nothing but
"Buying and planning and sewing,
With dressmakers coming and going,"
for Sister Mag is to be married on the Isth of this
month to Mr. Amos Whitehead.  I felt very bad about
it at first but she is so happy that I try to be, too. They
were playmates when they were children and sweet hearts then, but they had not seen each other for years.
They met and the childish love blazed up at their first
meeting as grown folks and "the course of true love"
seems to be running smoothly, for everybody is pleased.
The families have been friends for generations. That
is, everybody is pleased except a young gentleman who
thought he held first place in her heart until Mr. Whitehead came.
I have been so busy thinking of all this, and getting
acquainted with my brother, who is to be, that I have
not written one word of dear Cousin Mag's wedding,
which took place two weeks ago. She is a beautiful
young lady and she wore the loveliest dress. All of
us went to the wedding. There were ten bridesmaids
and as many groomsmen; they quite filled the back parlor and made such a pretty picture.
I had my first real trouble with Frances in connection
with the wedding. For each bridesmaid there was a
basket, made of cake, iced and ornamented, with a high
handle wrapped with satin ribbon. In one basket was a
ring and in another a three cent piece, the bridesmaid
who got the ring would be the next bride and the girl
who drew the three cent piece would never marry. Sister Mart brought her basket to me and I thought I
9.5 
Through Some Eventf ul Years
would give it to little Eddie Bailey, who is staying with
us for a few weeks. He was in bed asleep when we got
home, so I asked Mother where she thought I had
better put it. She wrapped it carefully and put it in
the library and next morning I told Eddie I had some thing for him and, lo and behold, it was gone.
I have tried so hard to raise Frances with good prin ciples. She knows every one of the Commandments
and they have been explained to her. I have told her
that when she wants anything she must come and tell
me and if I can give it to her she shall have it. So far as I
then knew she had never taken anything, so I did not
think of her when I missed the basket, but when a search
was made we found Frances under the bed in the front
room with the remains of the basket in her hand and
crumbs scattered about the floor. It was such a disappointment to me for I wanted her, above all things, to
be honest.
Mother gave a big dining the day after Cousin Mag
was married and I heard the funniest thing. Gentlemen, nowadays, wear the tightest clothes, that is the
young ones and the fashionable ones. Father does not
dress in this ridiculous fashion, neither does Grandpa
nor my uncles, but most people do. Brother Junius says I
must not say "pants"-he says "pantaloons" and so I
must too, I suppose. Well, these pantaloons fit a little
tighter than the skin and the coats are just as tight, the
vests are splendid garments, made of flowered satin, usually white, and they are fitted to the figure like a lady's
dress. Take it altogether they are very peculiar looking and I have often wondered how they got in and out
of these tight garments; now I have found out.
One of the ladies at the dining is a very bright woman, she is always saying something which, as Father
says, "brings down the house."  She speaks rather
slowly and her voice is soft and low, like Annie Laurie's
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Wedding Bells
I imagine, and this makes her funny speeches more effective.
"We were a little late getting to the wedding last
night," she said, "in fact we came near missing the
ceremony, and it was all due to the fit of my husband's
clothes; he ordered two suits for this occasion and in
order to wear both he had to wear the satin suit on
the ride out, thinking to change when we reached Greenwood; but we were late getting off and it grew dark, or
nearly so, when we got to the Honeysuckle Swamp.
"My husband was in despair, he had brought Reddick, his valet, along on the box with Abner, for he was
sure to need help with those new clothes. It was almost
time for the ceremony; he could not appear in satin
clothes when he had velvet ones, which had been made
especially for the happy event. There was nothing to
do but seek the swamp and, by the light of the carriage
lantern, make his toilet.
"Talk about a woman's vanity I had dressed hours
before and waited for him. The velvet suit was brought
forth and Reddick undertook the task of getting his
master into it. Groans and exclamations issued from
the thicket, at last I could distinguish words,'shake
me Reddick, shake hard,' came in agonized tones, then
'Reddick, I believe they are splitting in the back.''No,
Master, dey aint split, dat is jis de strop what's done
gin way.'
"At last the difficult task was accomplished and my
husband again seated himself by my side, mopping his
red face and mourning over the discomforts of following the fashion."
"Isn't it a good thing for you that your husband did
not come today?" asked one of the company.
"Why, no," she said, "he must know it was funny."
The gentlemen who are fat look like stuffed sausages
and those who are thin look like match stems. I wonder
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Through Some Eventful Years
why they wear such uncomfortable clothes? Father
looks so much better.
I cannot spare any more time on these things for I
like to hear all the plans for Sister Mag's wedding and
it will come so soon now. We will not have to give
her up for she will live at Mossview, once Dr. Whitehead's home, on Lake Jackson. It is only seven miles
from Pine Hill and I can ride horseback to see her.
June 3rd, I859.-Sister Mag is having perfectly
beautiful dresses and everybody we know is making
something pretty for her. I never saw such delicate,
lacy creations, as cousin Nannie calls them. One dress
is a pink and white pineapple silk. Of course, with the
immense hoops we wear now, dresses have to be made
very, very wide, it takes many yards of material. This
dress is striped Bayedere and has two deep flounces
embroidered by hand in a pattern of roses and ferns
and was imported from Paris.
Another is of maize-colored silk tissue, trimmed with
innumerable rows of very narrow black velvet, with
"angel sleeves" and a low-necked bertha of black silk
lace. Another is of white crepe lisse over rose satin and
another is of pale gray silk with lace to match and garlands of roses, a pale pink, that makes Sister Mag's
dainty coloring even prettier. They are real French
flowers. But I cannot tell of all these fine things so
must stop.
June 7thll, I859.-The wedding presents are coming
in every day now, it is Very interesting, such beautiful
silver and jewels. I like Mr. Whitehead very much
indeed. He is just a little older than sister Mag. Everybody makes jokes at them but they do not mind it. He
has four brothers and they have all been to see us, (they
are old friends, you know).
Last night the gentlemen in the library were having
a serious talk regarding the latest news from the abolition movement and all seemed to look for trouble and
98 
Wedding Bells
agreed that they could see nothing ahead for our country but for the South to be, or to have, a government
of her own; I did not hear how this was to be done.
June I4th, i 859.-Lots of pretty things have come
for the bride. I helped unpack them while Cousin
Sarah wrote the names and addresses of the senders.
She said Sister Mag would have to write a note of
thanks to each giver and she must know what the gift
was. She hardly looks at them so somebody must keep
a record. There are two gifts, however, which gave her
great pleasure, a splendid set of pearls from Father
and a magnificent cross of diamonds on a handsome
chain, the gift of the groom. I begged Sister Mag into
sitting down and letting me put the pearls on her, she
had to put in the ear-rings but I clasped the necklace
about her neck, pinned in the brooch, put the bracelets
on her pretty arms and arranged her hair high on her
head and put the tiara in the most becoming position.
Oh, she did look so sweet! She has golden-brown hair
that curls wherever it gets loose, merry gray eyes and
a complexion like a baby, such a clear pink and white.
Everybody says Sister Mart is beautiful but she is
a different style, her eyes are very dark, her hair is black
and she is not fair though she has a lovely color, a
brunette beauty. I am the "ugly duckling" of the band,
nothing in particular, just a mixture of everything,
brown eyes, straight golden-brown hair, with a complexion much darker than any of my sisters, but "handsome is as handsome does," they tell me for my comfort and I hope I may be better looking some day. Tomorrow I am going to help with the decorations, we
want everything to be as pretty as possible for dear
sister.
June 17th, I 859.-Such busy days! The wedding is
over and Sister Mag was beautiful in her dress of silk
brocade and the long veil and orange blossoms. The
house was crowded, there was music and dancing and
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Through Some Eventful Years
feasting, and-yes-drinking, too-such quantities of
champagne. Basket after basket was opened and
emptied and no wonder some grew lightheaded. Father
and Uncle Richard never drink but so many do.
If ever I get married there shall not be one drop of
intoxicating liquor to make people lose their wits.
The next morning the bridal party (twenty or more)
left for Bath, Georgia, where most of brother Amos's
relations live. (I have promised to say Brother Amos
and the sooner I get used to it the better). It would
have been lonely after they left but we have several of
the kinsfolk staying with us and when they leave we
are going to the mountains for the summer.
June 25th, I859.-Cousin Nannie has been teaching
me to make French rolls. She took lessons in New
York at a French cooking school and she offered to
teach me to make several dishes which are new to me.
Mother is a fine housekeeper and I love to follow her
around, when I have time and learn what to do but
Mother does not cook. She has a good cook and she
only goes in the kitchen once a day, just to see if all is
clean and neat. She directs and orders the meals but
Cousin Nannie can cook and she is going to teach me.
July 4th, i 859.-This is Father's day to give the annual barbecue to all the Bradford black folks-all come
from Live Oak Plantation, too. They number several
hundred all told and vast preparation has to be made.
We do not go to the barbecue for Father says we would
spoil their pleasure.  No white folks must go, they must
feel free to enjoy themselves in their own way, but early
this morning Father took me to see the pits, which
were ready for the meat to be barbecued. It was a
wonderful sight.
Ever so many deep pits had been dug and all night
fires had been burning in these pits, fires made of oakwood (for pine would spoil the taste). Over these pits
of glowing coals green hickory saplings had been placed
I00 
Wedding Bells
and the cooks for the day were busily engaged in putting
into the pits whole beeves, many of them; whole hogs,
I dare not say how many. It takes a lot to feed so many
strong, healthy appetites. Later in the day bread would
be baked, potatoes roasted, coffee made; already jugs
of milk and watermelons without number had been sunk
in the cool depths of a nearby stream; for this is on
Lake Iamonia on Horse-shoe Plantation. Every available boat had been collected from all points and fishing
tackle spoke of the sport to be enjoyed.
Next year Uncle Tom will have them all with him,
the brothers take it turn about. When Uncle Henry
died his wife withdrew from this arrangement and
Uncle Henry's negroes were so distressed and disappointed, but the other brothers said "Let them come
on, we will bear the expense," and so it has been ever
since.
This crowd of faithful, cheerful servitors enjoy their
holiday to the full and talk about it for weeks. Men,
women and children go, even the house-servants are excused if they wish to be.
July I9th, 1859.-All our company have gone and
yet Mother is not ready to leave home. I do not know
why this is but I am enjoying learning to keep house and
cook. Adeline is a fine cook both for meats and pastry
and cakes and she likes to show me how each thing
should be done. Aunt Morea, too, is teaching me to
make sweet wafers and jumbles and little hearts of
sponge cake; these are her specialties. Next week I
shall make some sweet potato rolls which Father likes
best of all.
August I st,  1859.-I know now why we did not leave
home early in the summer. Father and Mother have
been at Cousin Sarah's for two days and this morning
they sent Jordan in the carriage for Mattie and me, to
go to them. When we got there Cousin Sarah had the
dearest little red-headed baby I ever saw, lying in her
IOI 
Through Some Eventful Years
arms and it is hers and Buddy's. Mother says she thinks
it is time for me to stop saying Buddy and call him
Cousin William. I do not like to do this but if Mother
says so it must be the right thing to do. I couldn't
love them better if they were really and truly mv
brother and sister.
Mother says we will wait a few days longer and then
we will make a start for the mountains of Tennessee.
We will leave Frances at home this time, aunt Dinah
will take care of her. Fanny and Ike go with us. We
will go in private conveyance to Albany and take the
train there. It is very pleasant at home but I love to
travel and see interesting things, but I am afraid I have
little or no taste for everything interests me.
August  i5sth,  I859.-Here  we  are at Montvale
Springs-the loveliest place in the world, I do believe.
It is a valley of green grass, with clear cold streams
of water, swirling and boiling and bubbling over the
rocks; rushing headlong over some miniature precipice
then broadening out into placid pools. All around this
beautiful valley giant mountains raise their wooded
crests to the sky. Look where you please, there is only
one outlet and that is between high walls of rock
through which the light of Heaven seems to filter down
like golden dust. Never before have I seen so glorious
a sight.
The hotel is very large, not a fine building but comfortable; in a semi-circle on each side with a broad lawn
between, are cottages which are rented to families who
wish more of privacy than hotel life can give. These
cottages are all occupied so we have rooms on the second floor of the east wing, cool and pleasant. Brother
Amos and Sister Mag joined us in Atlanta and we will
be together the rest of the summer. They brought
with them a little niece, about my age and we will have
a fine time together, I know. Her name is Mamie
Whitehead.
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Wedding Bells
The dining hall is the longest I ever saw, instead of
small tables there are three long tables running the
length of the big room. These are well filled and we are
waited on by white servants-something new to me.
The fare is fine and such appetites as everybody has in
this bracing air. Tonight a boy sat at our side of
the table just next to Mother and he ate nine ruskswill he be alive in the morning?
We have been here thirty-six hours and except for
some old acquaintances of Mother's, to whom she introduced us, we do not know a soul. Fannie nurses
Mattie and so she knows a number of little girls of her
own age. The nurses get together to talk and their
charges do likewise but Mamie and I are both of us a
bit shv and feel strange in this big crowd. When I was
little like Mattie I did not mind strangers. Tomorrow
we are going to set out on a tour of investigation, perhaps we may find some playmates, too.
August i6th, I859.-We have found some very nice
girls. We went early to the spring, this morning, for
mother wishes us to drink freely of these mineral waters. There we met Sallie McWhorter, Josephine Cassel, Susie Phinizy and Gertrude and Sallie Lanier. We
have planned a walk up the mountain side after breakfast and I have stolen these few minutes because I am
so pleased to meet these girls and fear I may forget
their names.
August 17th, I859.-We had a splendid time. There
is a variety store at the foot of the mountain where we
bought quite a lot of goodies to take with us, some other
girls came along and three boys, Sidney and Clifford
Lanier and Westmoreland Spotswood. I like the Lanier children best of all.  They are as jolly as my Tennessee cousins, that is, all but Sidney, he has been ill and
is here for his health.
Clifford, his brother, is much smaller and full of fun.
Mr. Lanier, their uncle, keeps the hotel and the grand
I03 
Through Some Eventful Years
father and grandmother are here, too. The Lanier
House, in Macon, belongs to them and it has the reputation of being the best hotel in the whole country. We
have stopped there several times when we visited in
Macon.
The Lanier family occupy one wing of this vast
hotel.  In this wing are all the business offices and
apartments, butler's pantry, kitchen, the supply pantry
or store room, the chef's sleeping quarters, etc. The
wing extends a long way and here, too, are the apartments devoted to the Lanier family. There are windows on both sides and the loveliest view and, to me,
it is the most attractive part of the house. I speedily
made friends with the grandmother and, when she
found that I was interested in housekeeping and cooking, she went with me to the kitchen and let me see how
the French chef prepared his matchless cookery. After
I had eaten one of his delicious rusks, hot from the oven
with a generous slice of fresh country butter, I did not
wonder so much at the boy who ate nine.
August I8th, I859.-We  tried another mountain
climb today but I have been lame for several weeks and
my ankle is still weak, so I begged Mamie to go back
to the hotel.  She was very much interested in some
specimens of rock she was finding, so I tried to go on.
It was quite painful and Gertrude and Sidney offered
to stay with me until the rest of the party came back.
Sidney said he was not strong yet, in spite of all the
goodies his grandmother insisted on his eating. He
is older than the others; he is fifteen and he has been
kept steadily at school. He knows a great-deal more
than Westmoreland Spotswood, though he is a nice boy
too, and so polite to everybody. Gertrude is a bright
girl, too, and we had a pleasant hour while we waited
for our friends. Father says as I cannot walk far he
will get a conveyance of some kind and we will take
rides over these roads and see the sights.
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Wedding Bells
August I9th.-No walks or rides today. There is
to be a horse-race, real Kentucky horses, and there are
many entries. There is a magnificent race track here,
with a grand stand that will accommodate a great many
people. Perhaps it isn't exactly ladylike, but I do love
horse racing. Mother says it was handed down to me
from her side of the house; that may be so for Father
does not care for races, nor cards, nor drink, he does
not use profane language on any occasion; he does not
even smoke.  I know he is the very best man in all the
world. Sidney Lanier thinks Father is splendid. He
told his grandmother so. I must stop now and dress
for the races. Every one must look their best when
they sit on the grand stand.
August 20th, I859.-I had a delightful time. The
races were most exciting and the excitement was at its
height when a Tennessee mare took the first prizewon the race with all those beautiful Kentuckians competing. All the Tennessee people shouted themselves
hoarse and their hands must have been blistered, they
clapped so hard and so long. However, Kentucky will
have an opportunity to redeem her reputation, for these
races are to take place every two weeks throughout the
season. I wore my new blue silk to the races and Mamie
wore a pink brocade. Mattie was the sweetest thing
-she had on a green silk dress, trimmed with white.
She is a perfect blonde, with curls of pale gold and she
looked like a flower. The Lanier girls sat with us and
they had on very pretty dresses of barege with satin
bands, and Sallie McWhorter wore a shot silk.
The grand stand was crowded and when those hosts
of enthusiastic people cheered and clapped I was really
afraid it would fall for it shook perceptibly.
August 22nd, I859.-Yesterday Colonel Strother
Jones, a fine old gentleman from Virginia, who is fond
of children, called us all into the big ball room at eleven
o'clock (the band plays there every day at that hour)
o05 
Through Some Eventful Years
and told us he did not think we were having a good
show at Montvale. He said the grown people had the
dancing all to themselves and he did not think that was
fair, so, in a few minutes he had a set formed and we
were dancing merrily to "Money Musk," then the band
played one tune after another and we danced until we
were tired out.
Some of the children had never tried dancing before.
We knew how, because our people do not object to
dancing and we dance very often at home. Mother
is a beautiful dancer and she is a fine musician, too.
Col. Jones is so kind to children and he teaches those
who do not know how to dance, how to keep time with
the music and the steps they must take. He is about
sixty years old, very tall and spare and he is bald but
he is just as good and kind as can be.
August 26th, I859.-Today there was a court held
in the ball room and it was most entertaining. I had
never been in a real court room and the terms used were
not familiar but Judge Hilton, of Tallahassee, is one
of our party and he has kindly explained what I could
not understand.   Judge Steinaway presided and, lo
and behold the prisoner at the bar was Colonel Strother
Jones. Mrs. Taylor, a pretty and attractive grass
widow was suing him for breach of promise. Her
lawyers were Colonel Bulloch, of Alabama; Colonel
Cassel, of Nashville and Colonel Wainwright, of Georgia. The defense had employed Judge Hilton, of Tallahassee; Judge Caruthers, of Tennessee and Colonel
Hill, of Georgia. We are told that these lawyers are
justly celebrated and everything will be carried out in
strict accordance with law and custom. A number of
witnesses have been called and court, after a short recess, will convene to try this case.
Five o'clock P. M.-The trial takes time. The case
will come up again tomorrow. Mrs. Taylor weeps
copiously in a lace-trimmed handkerchief and Colonel
Io6 
Wedding Bells
Jones mops his heated brow with a red China silk bandanna, with a pattern of diamonds in white. Said
handkerchief having been purchased in Knoxville for
this occasion.
August 27th, I859.-The trial goes on. Some eloquent speeches have been made on both sides. Judge
Caruthers expounded the law governing such cases and
Judge Hilton made a touching plea on behalf of his
client. Colonel Hill was even more eloquent and the
jury was evidently deeply impressed, but Colonel Bulloch fairly tore their eloquence to fragments as he
plead for the youth and innocence of his beautiful client,
of the depravity of the man who would trifle with her
young affections, etc., etc., etc. The jury was visibly
moved. Next came Cassel and he, too, dwelt on the
character of the man who could deceive so fair a victim.
Before these speeches were made the different witnesses
had testified and I never imagined anything so ridiculous
as it. The court room was filled with laughter and the
court was forced to have some ejections made before
order could be restored. When all the counsel had
spoken the judge delivered his charge to the jury and
they retired. It did not take them long, however, to
decide upon a verdict. The defendant was guilty. The
judge pronounced sentence upon our friend and what
do you suppose it was? Colonel Jones was to present
Mrs. Taylor with the prettiest basket of grapes to be
bought in Knoxville and the judge, the counsel, the
jurymen and the witnesses must be treated generously
to champagne.
Listening to it all, it was hard to believe that all this,
which seemed so serious, was in jest; that this court,
which had been called; with the dignified judge, the
able lawyers on both sides, the witnesses, who held up
their hands so solemnly; the courteous defendant and
the beautifully gowned woman, who was the prosecutor,
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Through Some Eventful Years
were all playing parts-just a mimicry of real law.
I shall never forget this mimic court while I live.
August 3oth, i859.-Tomorrow is our last day at
Montvale. It has been very pleasant. I have learned
to make rusk from the French chef. I have made quite
a number of friends whom I shall be sorry to leave, and
I have learned to love old Mr. and Mrs. Lanier and
their grandchildren. I shall miss Sidney, for we had so
many pleasant hours together.  He is an ambitious boy,
he is looking forward to a time when Sidney Lanier
will mean something. He writes verses, pretty ones,
too, but, though he read some of them to me, he will
not give me even one.
"Wait," he said, "until I write a book and you shall
have them all."
It has been fine to know these nice boys and girls
and I have enjoyed it, but Mamie goes with us and we
are going to Hendersonville, where we will see Aunt
Margaret and Uncle Daniel and the house full of merry cousins. I can hardly wait to get there. I only got
two rides through this mountain land. Father got sick
and that put a stop to the excursions he had planned.
This country is grand but Florida is better. Ike, who
has been with us all the time here at Montvale, is
anxious to go home but I heard him tell Fannie last
night, "When de preacher tells me dat de jedgment day
kin be expected jist any day, I gwine ter tak' a ticket fur
dese mountains and git back here jis' as quick as I kin."
"Why?" asked Fannie.
"It's dis-a-way," said Ike, "I heard ole man Mose
preaching on de jedgment day an' he say before de end
kums de Devil got ter paw down all de mountains an'
hills an' dis here yearth is got ter be jis' as level as a
table. Now, it gwine tak' a long time ter level all dis
but de Devil won't hav' much work ter do in Florida.
He'll git dem folks fust an' I ain't agwine ter be dere ter
de demonstration."
-o8 
WJedding Bells
Ike likes to use big words but Fannie has very little
respect for his learning.
September Ist, I859.-We had a lovely ride over
from Montvale to Knoxville. Mamie and I persuaded
mother to let us ride on top the stage that we might see
better. It was the grandest ride I ever had. There
is only one gap you can go through to get out of this
enchanted valley. On each side the mountains tower
above us, in some places there is a sheer precipice on
either hand, so high that you see only a glimmer of blue
sky and the scattering rays of light, catching on mica
and crystals resemble a network of jewels.
Finally we reached a place where one side was sloping and wooded and here the driver stopped the stage
and invited us to get out and take a drink from the
Iodine Spring. Already we had discovered its proximity, for iodine has what my black Mammy calls "a loud
smell." The taste was even worse than the odor but
the driver assured us the water was a cure for many
ills, notably goitre and every day somebody carried
away jugs and carboys of the healing fluid.
When we reached the hotel in Knoxville only the
bridal suite was vacant so we had the best rooms in the
house.  Mr. Hilton had to seek a lodging elsewhere.
Next morning, just as the sun was rising across the
mountains Mr. Hilton sent a note asking us to go with
him to see the finest catawba vineyard in Tennessee.
The rest of the party were too sleepy to accept, but
Mamie and I hurried into some clothes and went with
him.  Never before had I seen such a sight, the southern
slope of the mountain was literally covered with the
staked vines, fairly loaded with the rich, dark clusters.
The proprietor showed us around. He said the grapes
were just ready to be harvested, work would begin the
next day; they are shipped in many directions and I
do not wonder they meet with ready sale.  In Florida
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Through Some Eventful Years
we have scuppernongs and the Spanish grape, Isabella,
but these are not at all like our grapes, they are thick
and meaty as well as juicy and the color is so rich and
red. After breakfast Mr. Hilton took us around the
city and we hated to stop for dinner. I keep forgetting
to say "Judge" Hilton, and Father says "every man
likes his title." I must not forget.
When I get home, my dear little diary, I shall ask
brother Junius if my present style is pleasing him? I
am trying to write like Frederieka Bremer, I read her
travels last winter. Tomorrow we are going to Chattanooga for a few days.
Sept. 5th, 1859.-We are having a charming time,
two days on Lookout Mountain. I could stay there a
month, but sister Mag is in a hurry to, get to-Nashville.
We went in a boat around Moccasin Bend. We have
visited coal mines; we have gone into the icy depths
of a cave, that to me is wonderful; we saw the sun
rise and set on Lookout Mountain; we went through
the City of Rocks and climbed up on the Elephant's
Back; we drank water from the spring on the mountain top, where you have to lie flat on the rock and
catch the water in a little cup as it trickles down.
None of these things can we do in Florida. We have
seen a good many Indians, too, they come to the hotels
with large flat baskets, apparently woven of some kind
of grass, filled with delicious ripe grapes. We always
buy some and they like to sell to you but they will not
talk nor do they smile or look the least bit pleasant.
September 8th, I859.-Hendersonville again and
oh, how good it is to see the dear kinsfolk once more.
Dannie, who was a fat baby, as white as milk, when I
saw him last, is a fat little boy now and just as sweet
as he can be. He talks so brokenly that his sisters tease
him by calling him a "Dutchman." Everybody else
looks natural and I had to go to the kitchen and see
IIO 
Wedding Bells
Aunt Purdy, to the dairy and see Charity and on and
on until all the servants had been spoken to. Then we
went to the pasture to kiss Lady Lyle and her twin
colts; all this before I took my hat off. I love to be
here.
I I I 
CHAPTER IX
HOME TO FLORIDA
RO,M these scattered leaves of the diary we get an
insight into the life of this child, who is fast ceasing
to be a child since this is the thirteenth summer of her
life. \Ve leave her full of delightful anticipations of
the days to come, but Dr. Bradford was taken dangerously ill and for a time his life was despaired of. Three
weeks later the doctors advised that he be taken home
to Florida as soon as possible. There were rumors
of trouble ahead but this was kept from him, as, in
his condition, no excitement must be risked. As usual
in the South mention of such news was carefully avoided.
On the 4th of October the Bradford family reached
home.  Home-coming to the Southerners of that day
was a joyful and carefree event. Trusted servants had
been in charge during the owners' absence. The house
was kept clean and well-aired, the grounds shared the
same care and there was "no crumple in the rose-leaf"
of satisfaction and comfort.
Smiling black faces greeted the family as they drove
up to the door, willing hands made light work of unpacking and straightening, welcome fairly filled the
air. Dr. Bradford had stood the journey home better
than we had hoped, it was heart trouble and his physician thought that in thepeace and quiet of his own home
he might improve. This coveted peace and quiet, however, was not to be his.
On October I6th, I 859, John Brown's famous "raid"
on Harper's Ferry shook the United States to the remotest point. Back and forth over the wires the dreadful news flashed, filling the South with terror and apprehension and the North with unholy joy that the first
blow had been struck for Negro freedom.
(II2) 
Home  to Florida
For years this had been suspended, like the sword of
Damocles, over the heads of the Southern people, and
now that the blow had fallen, consternation covered the
land. For the first time in the history of Pine Hill plantation, the doors of the mansion were locked when the
day was done and the servants had departed to their
own houses.  Always hitherto Lulu had taken the key
of the mistress's room, that she might come in without
disturbing the occupants; Fannie carried the keys to the
rooms upstairs and went in and out as duty called her,;
Aunt Morea had a key to the dining room and she and
Bill made everything as it should be before Adeline had
the breakfast in readiness.  That night the horrorstruck family knew not what was best to do.
So far not one word of this news had passed between
ourselves and the servants, and now the question arose
shall we hurt their feelings by locking the doors and
thus letting them see that we feel suspicious, or shall
we put ourselves entirely at their mercy by leaving the
doors unlocked? This was a momentous question and
was solved in this manner: There was a barrel-bolt on
the inside of every door, before we retired for the night
these bolts, that is, those on the outer doors, were shot
into place. Aunt Robinson had a habit of waking at
daylight and she offered to unfasten the doors and keep
watch until the rest of us were awake. This she did
and the servants were none the wiser, but nobody in
the house slept soundly that night and the excitement
of the horrible news had brought to Dr. Bradford another heart attack.
Fast and furious came telegrams and newspapers,
filled with all the details of the raid, the capture of the
incendiaries, the plans they had made to murder and
burn the white people, which would have succeeded but
for the love of the slaves for their owners.  They were
not willing to engage in this nefarious warfare.  It was
I I3 
Through Some Eventful Years
no longer possible to ignore all this in the daily intercourse with our black folks. They are a talkative race
and while it behooved us to be careful, it was better to
talk it over, in a measure, with them. Their view of
the subject was very sensible in the main, and so impressed were we by. this, that fear ceased and when the
trial of John Brown and his associates went on and
they were convicted and hunz, confidence was fully restored and apparently everything moved as smoothly as
before.
We are sure that in few instances was there bad feeling of any kind between the races; evidently it would
take something more than this to fan the flames of racehatred in the South.
On the 5th of November Miss Cornelia Platt came
to Pine Hill as governess. She was from Rhinebeck,
New York, a tall, dignified lady of thirty or forty, a fine
musician and a good mathematician, but otherwise lacking in every requisite for a teacher. She had no love
for children, no patience with them and the gift of
imparting knowledge was not hers.  She had three
pupils, Sue Bradford, a girl of thirteen;Mattie Taylor
and Lucy Branch, nine and ten years old. The oldest
of her pupils had been trained under good teachers;
she studied hard and gave no trouble, but the two
younger ones were insubordinate and the governess
scrapped openly with them. This they resented and
begged to have Miss Platt sent away. Of course no
notice was taken of this, but Miss Platt was doing more
to bring this about than they could.
One night the mail was received rather late (it was
brought from the Tallahassee post office by whichever
one of the neighbors had business in town that day)
and Lucy was sent to carry a letter to Miss Platt, who
was in her room up stairs. The child was gone so long
that Mrs. Bradford sent to see what had become of her,
the messenger met her on the stair with the letter still
II4 
Home  to Florida
in her hand. She raced past and called out, "Aunt
Patsy, come quick, Miss Platt has got Robert in her
lap and she is kissing him and crying over him and
telling him how sorry she is for him."
Mrs. Bradford went to Miss Platt's room and found
her just as Lucy had described. Robert was sent away
and Mrs. Bradford gave Miss Platt a kind but serious
talk. She could make allowances for her because of the
section of country she had come from, but "when you
are in Rome you must do as Rome does," she told her
and, receiving a promise that she would be more par ticular in future, she delivered the letter, said good night and departed. Back in the library she told the
children that Miss Platt did not know any better and
they must never mention it again to anyone.
A few nights later Jordan, the carriage-driver, had a
sick horse and was on his way to "de Gret House" for
medicine, when he met Miss Platt. He asked if he
could do anything for her and she answered, "Yes you
can, I am on my way to the quarter to have a talk with
the people there, we have arranged a meeting in the
Gopher-Hill House (a vacant house some distance off)
and will be glad to have you join us." Jordan explained
that one of his horses was very sick and he could not
leave and, touching his hat respectfully passed on. Not
to "de Gret House," however, but back to his own
dwelling, he woke his wife, Adeline, and asked if she
knew of this meeting.
"No, I didn't know of dis one ternight, but she ben
havin''em pretty reglar, she don't ax me no more'cause
I done tole her what I thinks er her an' her doings,"
replied Adeline.
"Well," said her husband, "you git right up an' go,
tell her you had a change of heart an' den you listens
good an' tell me all she says," and Jordan was off at a
run to get the needed medicine. The next morning
after Adeline had cooked the breakfast and her white
I I5 
Through Some Eventful Years
folks had partaken of it, Dr. and Mrs. Bradford had
a full account of the night's proceedings. Miss Platt
was summoned from the school room and told of the
discovery, she did not seem surprised, she admitted that
she had accepted the position with this object in view.
She thanked Mrs. Bradford for the many kindnesses
shown her by the entire family but did not seem to feel
the slightest shame at the traitorous part she had played.
Mrs. Bradford did not lose sight of her until her
trunk was packed and Miss Cornelia Platt, under a
suitable escort, departed, to be put on the train at Tallahassee, a ticket for New York in her hand-bag and the
conductor's promise to pass her safely across Mason
and Dixon's line. Never again was there a Northern
governess at Pine Hill Plantation.
Right here let us tell you why governesses from the
North were so universally employed. It was not that
we had to go North to find educated women, but it was
due to the fact that the Southern people, except for a
very small proportion were in more than comfortable
circumstances. An old maid relative was looked upon
as a gift direct from Heaven, a blessed boon to add to
the comfort and pleasure of home. These women could
not be spared and moreover there was a prejudice in
the South against a lady going out to work. Governesses were needed; they must be had. It was easy to get
one from the North and they were, for the most part,
satisfactory, hence the great number of Northern ladies
who taught in Southern homes.
When the War Between the States was ended; when
General Lee's army surrendered, the wealth of the
South disappeared. Her people were stripped of all
their possessions save the land on which they lived and,
in most instances, there was nothing on that land. The
men of the South came home to blackened hearthstones;
to almost starving families. No houses, no barns, no
fences and a living to make. The women of the South
Ii6 
Home  to Florida
endured privations, sufferings, indignities and insults
which, when repeated in the case of the Belgian women,
in the recent world war made the whole world weep.
Yet to us no hand of mercy was extended. The fortunes of the South scattered to the four winds of Heaven; her man-power depleted; her homes destroyed; her
sons and daughters heart-broken over the many losses
they had sustained; crushed and bleeding at every pore,
her conquerors laid upon her the heaviest burden ever
placed upon a helpless people when she was turned over
to the tender mercies of "the Carpetbagger" and the
work of terror, "Reconstruction." That word, as we
hear it used now, differs greatly in meaning from Reconstruction in the sixties. Now it is to relieve suffering; to build up the waste places; to heal the ravages
of war. Then it meant wrong and cruelty and insult,
persisted in for long years until the conquered South
was ground down into the dust. Military law was the
only law and an appeal to those in power was worse than
useless. Let us cut the word reconstruction out of our
language that we may possibly forget it.
We have tried to make it clear why the children of
the South were not taught by the women of their own
land; these rarely or never left the protection of their
homes. In these latter days the women in all sections
go to their work with almost the same regularity that
the men do. A great many of them are justly proud of
the ability to be self-supporting, and in many instances,
they are taking care of a family as well. There are no
abler business women to be found in any section than
in the South. Sixty years have made many changes.
Christmas at Pine Hill was celebrated as usual, if
anything the merry-making was greater both in the
"Gret House" and in the "Quarter" for the master had
regained his health and that was joy enough in itself.
The negroes were as light-hearted and pleasant as before the outburst in Virginia, seemingly it had not af
II7 
Through Some Eventful Years
fected them to any great extent; confidence was entirely
restored. Not only did they play as usual but, when the
work of the New Year began, they were the same cheerful laborers. The momentous year of i 860 apparently
held no threat for the future. We now go back and
read again from the Diary.
II8 
CHAPTER X
LEAVES FROMI THE DIARY
CTOBER i 8 th, I 8 5 9.-The horrible, horrible time
that has come to us; our world seems turned topsyturvy. We feel that we can trust none of the dear black
folks who, before this, we had relied on at every turn.
I am afraid to say a word for fear it will prove to be
just what should have been left unsaid.
When the mail comes in we crowd about the mail-bag
as though something could be told by looking at the
outside and, when it is opened, some one must read the
news aloud, the news from Virginia, for we are impatient. What will become of us? Will our Father in
Heaven let us be destroyed? Will the people we have
always loved put the torch to our homes and murder
us when we seek to escape? This is what John Brown
was urging them to do.
I cannot see that there has been any change; Lulu
is just as good and kind as ever; the rest are more quiet
but they do not seem disturbed or ill natured. Frances
said to me last night, "Do you understand what all
this is about?" I told her I did not; I told her we would
know more after a few days. She laughed, a crazy kind
of laugh, and said: "Yes, you will; you white folks will
know a heap you ain't never knowed before," and then
she ran out of the room. I did not tell this, for I am
sure she has heard something I have not and if I keep
quiet she may tell me more.
The newspapers from Richmond and from New
York come daily and they give the details of proceedings in Virginia. It is more exciting than anything I
have ever read either in history or fiction.
October 28 th,  1859.-Governor Wise and the Court
(I i9) 
Through Some Eventful Years
in Virginia have condemned John Brown to death and
htie is to be hanged on the 2nd of December. The New
York paper says he is a fanatic and believes he is right
in trying to incite insurrection among the slaves of the
South. I am sorry for any man who has a nature so
depraved that murder and arson seem right to him.
Judge Baltzell thinks the negroes will rise up on that
day and apply the torch as Brown urged them to do, but
Father does not think so, neither does Brother Junius.
November 7th, I859.-Well, in spite of Ossawatimie Brown and all the trouble his diabolical efforts have
called up we have another governess from the North.
She is not like anyone we have had before. I do not
believe she has ever taught school in her life. She has
no idea of discipline or order in arranging studies; she
is a good music-teacher and when I asked if she liked
to teach music, she said she had never taught anything
else until now.
November I9th, I859.-Mattie and Lucy do not
like Miss Platt; she does not like them either and lets
them see it. There is something strange about her; she
does not care to sit with us at night and rarely speaks
except to answer a question. I went to her room yesterday to carry her some oranges, to keep in her room,
so that she could eat them whenever she wished and
when I knocked at her door she had to unlock it, in the
daytime-just think!
November 26th, 1859.-Sister Mart is a young lady
now and does not go to school any more. I study music
with Miss Platt and Sister Mart is carrying on her music with an extra fine teacher in Tallahassee. We both
study French under a language master, who is a native
Frenchman. There are some rumors that he is an abolitionist and a watch has been put upon his movements.
Isn't it dreadful to have to suspect every stranger?
December 2nd, I859.-This is the day John Brown
is to be hung. We are not going to school today for
120 
Leaves from the Diary
Miss Platt is sick in bed with a headache. When Fanny took her breakfast upstairs to her she would not
open the door, just said she did not wish any.  I took
her dinner to her but she answered me through the
half-opened door that she was too ill to eat. I asked
if I could send the doctor to her but she did not want
him; said she often had such attacks and she would be
well in the morning; said she did not wish to be disturbed at supper time.
December isth, i859.-Miss Platt has gone-last
night a letter came in the mail for her. It was a little
late but the children had not gone to bed so Lucy carried
it upstairs and she came back so excited. Robert, who
is Fannie's little boy, eleven years old he is now, was in
Miss Platt's room; she was holding him in her lap and
kissing him and crying over him. Mother went upstairs to see about this and it was just as Lucy said.
Mother talked to her and explained that in our country
we did not do things like this and advised her to refrain
from all such in the future.
Mother told us not to mention this to anybody. Well
we did not, but Miss Platt was caught trying to persuade the negroes to rise up and follow in John Brown's
footsteps, put the torch to the home of every white man
and murder the people wholesale, sparing none. Jordan
and Adeline had found it out and told it. I am so glad
our black folks love us and are our friends. Mother
says it is so near Christmas she will not try to get another governess until after the holidays.
December  26th,  I859. —We  had  a very happy
Christmas; just as good as if John Brown had never
stirred up so much that was terrible. The scene on the
back porch was just as merry; the presents were as joyfully received, the drinks as eagerly quaffed and the
good wishes, which, with the negroes, correspond to
toasts, were as heartily spoken. I do not believe it will
I21 
Through Some Eventful Years
be easy to turn our dear black folks against us though
no doubt the abolitionists will keep on trying.
Inside the house we had a lovely time; the day was
bright and beautiful. Father is well again; Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy and all the boys took dinner with
us; Cousin Bettie is at school in New York City; she is
studying music under Francis H. Brown, the composer.
Cousin Rob and I had such a good time. Christmas
night we spent the evening at Dr. Holland's. I forgot
to say that Sister Mag and Brother Amos, Cousin Sarah and Cousin William and sweet little Nannie, their
pretty baby and Brother Junius, of course, were with us
Christmas day. We all went together to Greenwood,
we always have a delightful time when we go there and
this Christmas Cousin Mag and Dr. Betton were there,
too. Dr. Holland does not allow dancing but we played
games and had music, both vocal and instrumental, and
everything good you could think of to eat. It was a set
supper, for this is the way we do things in our neighborhood; all the house-keepers vie with each other in
entertaining and not one surpasses Mother, if I do say
it myself.
January 8th, I86o.-This is Aunt Sue's birthday;
and she is spending the day with us. She brought the
boys and Teresa and little Mary Eliza, who is a darling.
Cousin Henry Whitaker is here, Aunt Sue and Mother
love him dearly; but he hurt Aunt Sue's feelings today.
He is a great tease and sometimes he is not as careful as
he should be not to give offense. Since all this trouble
between the North and South, there is a tendency to
say disagreeable things and you often hear of "Yankees'" and always in derision. Everybody does not do
this but you do hear it sometimes. Cousin Henry lives
in North Carolina and we do not see him often, Aunt
Sue called her children to speak to him and as he shook
hands with the dear little boys he said: "Well, Sue,
what are you going to make of these little Yankees?'"
122 
Leaves from the Diary
Uncle Arvah is a New Yorker by birth and it was a
thrust at him and Aunt Sue was angry and hurt; the
children did not know what was meant. It is a pity
to "stir up strife."
March 24th, i86o.-I have a splendid piece of news
to record here, my diary: Sister Mag has a baby boy
and he is the first grandson in the house and my nephew.
I feel as if I could not love him enough for he is to be
named for Father. He is very small and very red, but
he is a dear in spite of that and I know he will be lots
of fun.
March 26th, I86o.-The baby is not to have Fath.
er's full name after all; he is to be named for both of
his grandfathers and that makes him James Edward
Whitehead. Maybe I won't love him so well, but I
think I will, for he is Sister Mag's own dear little son
and I shall love him for that, even if I am disappointed.
When Brother Junius looked at him he said, "another
soldier to fight for the flag," but I hope he will never
have the opportunity to fight. War and bloodshed
seem very terrible to me.
Lucy Brodie is making us a visit, she does not think
much of babies. Her father was my father's commission merchant once and the Brodie family lived in Tallahassee but they went back to New York when Lucy
was quite young and she does not remember her Florida
home. She is thirteen years old now and deeply interested in all she sees. The negroes are something new
to her every time she looks at one and she often re.
marks on their queer looks and ways. Yesterday when
Lulu had braided her hair and dressed her, even putting on her shoes, she said, "When I get back home I
am going to think of this and wish I had one of my
very own to carry about with me."
I do not believe Lucy has been kept at school as
steadily as I have been, for the books she studied last
term are like those I studied three years ago. Lucy has
123 
Through Some Eventful Years
been visiting at Woodstock and Goodwood and she
says she has enjoyed it all. She would like to stay
longer and she has promised to come again.
April 12th, I86o.-We are going to have a May
Party at Greenwood. Florence Holland will be our
Queen. She is the prettiest of all our girls. I am Maid
of Honor and we have ever so many different ones in
it. It will be pleasant no doubt, but I have been so
happy all the winter and spring, having Grandpa and
Grandma in Florida, that I really begrudge the time
given to anything else. They do not stay at Live Oak
any more. Grandpa gave Live Oak to Uncle William
(his youngest son) and he lives at Waverly. The house
is not the splendid mansion that he left but it is pretty
and comfortable and it sits in the midst of the most
magnificent grove of oaks in Leon County.
Henry and Dan (my step uncles) and Johnnie Branch
came with Grandpa and we have the best times. We
each have a horse and Grandpa lets us ride whenever
we like. He is not nervous and isn't always looking
out for us to get hurt, which is very gratifying, for we
think we are big enough and old enough to take care
of ourselves.
April 22nd, I86o.-Grandpa has consented to stay
until after the May Party and we feel so complimented
that he should honor us with his presence. Now I am
going to practice my part in good earnest for I do not
want to fail when he is coming to look on.
May 3rd, I86o.-The May Party was a complete
success; everyone who came said it was.  Our Queen
was beautiful and the flower girls were, too. All the
party looked their best and there was a large crowd
from Tallahassee and from Thomasville. Grandpa
was pleased and said so many pretty things about the
whole affair.
On the morning of the 2nd Grandpa and Grandma
set out for North Carolina, taking the boys with them.
124 
Leaves from the Diary
I had hoped we could go to visit them this coming summer but Father says planters in the South will have to
stay at home for awhile. The sky is clear now but the
storm may come at any time.
May I6th, I86o.-Now that the frolicking is over
and there is plenty of time to read the papers, I find
much to trouble and alarm. This is a Presidential year
and already there are indications of a hot fight. Brother
Junius is an Old Line Whig and Father and Buddy are
Democrats.  They almost quarrel over their different
views. Everett and Bell are the Whig candidates, while
Breckinridge and Lane are ours. General Lane is our
cousin and we feel an interest in his success, but there
are others in the race also and nobody can tell how it
will be decided.
Lincoln and Hamlin are the Black Republican candidates.  This seems to be a new political party and, as
near as I can come at it, they have two objects in view,
the freeing of the Negroes and the downfall of the
South. I am only a child but reading the papers, that
is the wav it seems to be.
The Convention was held in Charleston, South Carolina, and there was great excitement, the Democrats
were not satisfied at putting out a good strong ticket
but brought out another, Stephen A. Douglass and
Herschel V. Johnston. I cannot remember which name
comes first.  Father regrets deeply that they should
have done this, for, he says, it will weaken the chances
of the Democrats.
Mattie is so cute; because her father is a Whig she
says she is a Whig too, she shakes her golden curls and
turns up her pretty little nose when Cousin Rob and I
sing Democratic songs, one especially, sung to the tune
of "Benny Havens, Oh:"
"Hark from the tomb a doleful sound,
We hear a mournful yell,
Old fogies shout discordant notes
For Everett and Bell."
I25 
Through Some Eventful Years
This to Mattie is like shaking a red rag at a bull, isn't
it too funny? I mean to read the papers every day and
keep up with the news.
Half an hour later. Just as I was closing my diary
Father, who was lying on the couch in the library where
I was writing, said: "What is my baby writing? It
has brought a real grown-up frown to her face." I gave
him the book to read, he did not say a word for awhile
and then he said, "You are getting to be quite a politician. I didn't know you felt such an interest," and
then he talked to me for some minutes concerning the
campaign, which was even now upon us and he told me
to come to him whenever there was anything I could not
understand. He thought well of the plan of reading
the newspapers. He said it was the duty of men and
women to keep themselves informed in all matters concerning the welfare of the country.
July 4th, I86o.-We went to Tallahassee to attend
a celebration of our country's birthday. Brother Amos
belongs to the Governor's Guards, most of the younger
men and boys about grown belong to it too. They have
handsome blue uniforms and a brass band to play for
them to march..It is a cavalry company and all have fine
horses; it is needless to say they make a splendid appearance. The color-bearer carried a large silk flag and I
was so proud of The Star-spangled Banner. Francis
Scott Key, who wrote that beautiful song, was a friend
of Grandpa's and sent him one of the very first copies
ever printed; it is bound in Mother's music book, and
she is so proud of it. Today when the company paraded the band played Hail Columbia first but the
crowd clamored for The Star-spangled Banner, showing which they loved best. After the parade there was
a picnic dinner and a dance on a platform built for the
occasion.
All are tired but me, I am so excited over the day's
proceedings that I cannot sleep, so I am writing it up.
I26 
Leaves from the Diary
Some fine speeches were made and politics were left
in the background for once. We came home in the
cool of the evening and as we rode along the quiet
country road we woke the echoes with one patriotic
song after another. When I studied English History
it seemed to me that our history was not near so interesting as it was and Scotch History was more entertaining than either English or French. Will there ever
come a time when the history of the United States of
America will fill one or more big volumes?
I27 
CHAPTER XI
POLITICS IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY
UR  young friend of the diary is not going to
school this summer; the days are long and hot and
the political fight which is on is much hotter than the
weather.
Two years before this time Mr. Hopkins, the "Uncle
Arvah" of the diary, had brought from his old home,
Ithica, New York, a nephew who wished to come South
and engage in business.  Mr. Hopkins was par excellence, the merchant prince of Tallahassee; his income
was large and his heart was ever open to the call of any
who wished assistance. He carried a stock of goods
which in richness and elegance surpassed anything ever
seen in Tallahassee before or since. His home "Goodwood" was a model of beauty and comfort and was the
centre of all social activities. Mrs. Hopkins was the
youngest daughter of Governor John Branch and had
been a belle in Washington society.  She had a delightful voice and was an accomplished performer on the
piano, the harp and the guitar. Her husband had a
splendid baritone voice and the music they made was
worth going far to hear.
This young nephew they brought south was fresh
from the typical small farm of the North. He had a
part to play in the life of that farm and the change, to
him, was great. He entered the store of A. Hopkins
& Co., and under the tutelage of his accomplished relatives he took on a polish which was more than "skin
deep." Polite, accommodating, always on the lookout
for an opportunity to serve, he soon became a general
favorite. You will hear more of him later on.
Storm clouds hung heavy over our land and yet we
did not realize to what we were drifting. The year
(I28) 
Politics in Eighteen Hundred and Sixty
of Eighteen Hundred and Sixty was a most momentous
year-it held in its grasp the fate of the Nation it behooved the people of this great country to gather their
wits about them, to move slowly and with caution, to
bear, with patience the recriminations which continually passed between the two sections. To hold fast to
that Constitution, which, at its first conception, had
threatened to be drawn up in blood of the people, who
it seemed at first, were unable to agree to the provisions
of this, the greatest political document ever known to
the world. Now an insistant voice from the Northland, ever increasing in volume, sought to set aside
this Constitution; to install in its place a "Higher
Law."
The advocates of this higher law did not seem, themselves to know just what it was they were insisting upon.
Freedom for the negro came first; freedom from matrimonial bonds; then freedom from the constraint laid
by the Holy Bible upon the passions of human-kind.
The Commandments were relegated to the background; the rights secured by the Constitution to all
citizens of this great and growing nation, were set aside
and a wholesale system of stealing was inaugurated in
the effort to bring about negro freedom.
These slaves had been bought and paid for by the
Southern planters; often these slaves had been bought
from Northern owners, who felt no qualms of conscience in accepting from his Southern brother the full
value of the aforesaid slaves.  The stealing of his property naturally roused the ire of the owner. It is our
belief that if the United States had offered a fair price
for these slaves and fixed the time for freeing them in
such a manner as to make it gradual, in this way each
slave as he reached the age of twenty-five to be automatically free, nine-tenths of the Southern slave-holders would have been glad to accept. The life of the
master, and more especially the mistress of slaves was
I29 
Through Somne Eventful Years
not an enviable position.  It entailed great responsibilty; it brought with it many cares; there was a certain
pleasure accompanying the cares, to be sure. It was a
pleasure to look around on a well-ordered plantation,
on healthy, happy laborers whom we loved and who
returned that love; to see little children, with their
engaging ways and to pet them as we would so many
playful kittens, only with a deeper feeling; for white
children are not the only children who are interesting.
Naturally the Southerner did not relish the idea of
having his property stolen. This campaign of I86o
came on a people heated almost to the boiling point by
Harriet Beecher Stowe and other writers of that ilk.
At the North a fanatical determination to carry their
point; at the South an equally firm determination to
stand up for State's Rights and to abide by the Constitution of our fathers.
It was like two brothers who held different views and
each, feeling he was right, held fast his determination.
Rapidly the months passed. At the Democratic Convention in Charleston, South Carolina, the ultra Southern ticket was nomiated, Breckinridge and Lane were
the candidates. In Richmond, Va., another Convention was held; this did not accomplish much and still
another was held in Baltimore. The Democratic party
after its usual manner failed to agree and the result
was two, or perhaps you might say three tickets in the
field. The pity of it! For now defeat stared them in
the face. The Republican party nominated as their
candidates Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin and
though, at first their chances were slim enough, the
stubborn stand made by the Democratic party, virtually gave to the "black Republicans" the victory.
Never before, not even in the days of "Tippecanoe
and Tyler too" was there so much excitement and unrepressed ill-feeling. Breckinridge and Lane were the
most popular of the candidates put forward by the
I30 
Politics in Eighteen Hundred and Sixty
Democrats. Stephen A. Douglass and Herschel V.
Johnston, former Governor of Georgia, were more
conservative and were not so enthusiastically greeted in
the running. John Bell, of Tennessee, was not, strictly
speaking, a \Whig, Edward Everett, of Massachusetts,
was his mate on the ticket. There were some Old Line
Whigs, who were not satisfied with these, but nevertheless they voted the ticket when the election took place.
At the North the excitement was great also. The
conservative element saw danger ahead; the Northern
Democrats had an intense jealousy of their Southern
brethren; the Republicans (the black Republicans) were
true to their name and harped continually on the one
string of negro freedom.  Lincoln at first, expressed
himself freely as being opposed to this, but later he
found it more expedient to lull conscience to sleep and
adopt the views of those who had brought him into the
limelight.
So the situation rested. The straight-out Democrats
stood for State's Rights and the Constitution of our
fathers, the negro meant little or nothing to them. The
conservative Democrats were more prudent; they saw
probable loss in the event of a split in the Union, none
of them really believed war would be the outcome. This
loss, in their minds would, in the event of secession, confine slavery to strictly southern territory and thus it
could never spread. The Whigs, too, were conservative and slow. To them, secession was obnoxious and
they fought it bitterly to the end. Not, however, after
it was iin fait accompli then with one accord every true
son of the South, casting politics to the winds, cast in
his fortunes with his state and later with the Confederacy, and the result was the finest body of soldiery the
sun ever shone upon. But all this came later.
The die was cast, the election was over and the black
Republicans would come into power the succeeding
March. South Carolina spoke up at once to express
I3I 
Through Some Eventful Years
her sentiments. She hoisted the banner of a palmetto
with a coiled rattlesnake and the motto: "Don't tread
on me," and we who knew South Carolina fully recognized the fact that she was dangerous.
Florida was wild to follow South Carolina's lead;
Mississippi was just as ready and the other states had
the question under discussion.   The  Legislature of
South Carolina was in session when Lincoln was declared elected and they promptly called a convention to
discuss the situation.
132 
CHAPTER XII
FLORIDA SECEDES
N  the 20th of December, South Carolina withdrew
from the Union and became a sovereign power. The
Legislature of Florida met in November and they,
too, called a convention. This convention was presided
over by Judge John McGeehee of Madison County,
it was a representative body of men, for Florida had
placed there some of her best and wisest citizens. It
was a time for deep and earnest thought, a time to put
all else aside and
"Meet the stern needs of the hour."
Those who stood within the walls of the old Capitol
in Tallahassee, who listened to the eloquent prayers
for God's guidance, with which each day's deliberations
were begun; who looked into the thoughtful faces of
this fine body of men and listened to them as each point
in the situation was thoroughly entered into, can never
forget. Nor can they fail to recognize the depth of
feeling portrayed in the action taken.
On the ioth of January, I86I, Florida, too, severed
the bonds which held her and stood forth free and independent for the first time in her history.
The storm had burst over the honorable, law-abiding people of the South but even yet we did not realize
the force of that storm. The Constitution gave to every
state the right to withdraw from the Union, into which
they had voluntarily entered and we were exercising
that right. Some pessimistic folk spoke of war but
by far the greater part looked forward to a peaceful
passing.
In a short time seven states had seceded and pro                        (I33) 
Through Some Eventful Years
ceded to form a Southern Confederacy, with Jefferson
Davis as president and the Capital at Montgomery,
Alabama. No braver, truer, better man ever lived than
our President. He had proved his mettle upon many
a battlefield, he had proved his ability as a statesman
in the councils of the nation. He had shown his constructive diplomatic knowledge as Secretary of War for
the United States. There could be but one opinion
regarding Jefferson Davis and his people adored him.
North Carolina, Virginia, Arkansas and Tennessee
were still hesitating, when Lincoln made his first call
for a certain quota of troops from those states to fight
against the South. That settled the question. One
after another these four states seceded and
"The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag
Had grown to be eleven."
The South was not, in any sense of the word, prepared for war. An agricultural country, there were but
few factories of any kind and absolutely none for the
manufacture of war supplies. A few factories for the
manufacture of cotton cloth of rather rough texture
were scattered here and there through Georgia and
northern Alabama.  The various railroads had small
shops barely sufficient to supply their daily needs; nowhere were there any facilities for turning out fire arms
nor for the manufacture of gun powder.
I34 
CHAPTER XIII
LEAVES FROM THE DIARY
ECEMBER  8th, I86o.-Miss Sadie Talbot, our
new governess, arrived today. She and her sister
are Southern girls from Easton, Maryland.
They are tall blondes and very pretty, I think. They
have the little touch in their speech which most Marylanders whom I have known have had, and it sounds
real sweet from them though it sounds affected in a great
big man like Mr. Burton. These young ladies were
educated at Poughkeepsie, New York, but they are real
Southerners, though they are not in favor of secession;
but they are quite young'and full of fun.
The legislature met in Tallahassee in November and
Governor Perry advised that they call a convention to
meet January 3rd, to consider whether Florida shall
follow South Carolina's example or not; so I suppose
we will soon know our fate. Florida is a big state in area
but her people are comparatively few and the settlements are far apart. Florida is a young state, too; she
is only one year older than I am, so she must be almost a
child still. The question is, can she stand alone? I hear
all the pros and cons of this movement from both the
Secession and the Union side, so I am afraid I am sometimes a little mixed as to politics. Anyway Christmas
is much more interesting so I will think about that. I
like Miss Sadie, (she says we must call her Miss Sadie
and it is best for her sister is Miss Talbot).
December 28th, I86o.-We had a fine Christmas. I
cannot see that our black folks ever think of John
Brown's raid and if they do it evidently does not interest
them much. We are trying to forget it and perhaps the
clouds may pass away.
There is trouble at Live Oak. Miss Lottie Church,
(I35) 
Through Some Eventful Years
from somewhere in New England, came in October to
teach Lucy and Horton Branch and Uncle William and
Aunt Mary liked her very much, the children did, too.
She said it was the easiest work she ever had to do, for
the children are small and must not be closely confined
and Miss Church had a carriage and horses and a good
driver to take them out riding every plesant day. She
could take them riding in the country or she could go in
town and she laughed and said it was the first time she
had ever had a carriage at her commnd. She was pretty and vivacious and she was often asked out in the evenings and there was a way provided for her to go when
she wished, for it is in the country and she must have
an escort, though she thought that entirely superfluous.
Yesterday Mr. R. Barnwell Rhett, the editor of the
Charleston Mercury, and Mr. Colcock, both of them
from South Carolina and both aunt Mary's brothersin-law came on a flying visit to Live Oak. At the dinner
table politics naturally was the sole topic of conversation and these gentlemen expressed their views as plainly as the King's English would allow. Miss Church
was furious. She forgot that these gentlemen knew
nothing of her political faith nor of the land of her
nativity and she burst forth in such a wild tirade of invective and abuse that everybody was astonished-to
say the least of it. The carriage in which she had taken
so many pleasant rides was ordered to be at the door in
time to catch the first train out of Tallahassee and that
was the last we knew of Miss Lottie Church. I am so
glad we have Southern teachers in this neighborhood.
Hattie Lester came home on a visit for Christmas; I
am going to miss her dreadfully when she goes.
I36 
CHAPTER XIV
WAR AND SORROW
T is true that the South was not prepared for war but
she had within her borders some of the very finest
materials on earth. Her men had been accustomed,
from babyhood, to ride, to hunt, to fish. To test their
skill in marksmanship, to ride at tournament and, with
lance and eye, win the right to crown the Queen of Love
and Beauty. All this contributed to make good soldiers
and, besides these, in the mountains of the South are
found some of the finest men anywhere. When President Davis made his first call for troops there was no
hesitation. Volunteers came pouring in, planters from
the big plantations, lawyers from their offices, merchants from their stores, mechanics from their shops,
school boys who had closed their books and offered
themselves to their country and, besides these, came the
mountaineers, of whom we have spoken. Men of splendid physique and indomitable courage, tall and straight,
active and sinewy; eye and hand trained to do good
work and quick work as well.  They came in crowds
and they came singly as the case might be, but whether
it was one or fifty, they called forth admiration, even
if their uniforms were of butternut jeans and their caps
of coon-skin. These mountaineers were not slave-holders.
It is often said, even to this day that the South fought
to retain her slaves, but such was not the truth. Thousands of the soldiers, who enlisted in the Confederate
army had never owned a slave; they fought for liberty
of opinion and action, for principle and for HOME.
We leave the Confederacy marshalling the soldiery
of the South and return to Pine Hill Plantation. Dr.
Bradford was lame it is true, but he was an ardent
(I37) 
Through Some Eventful Years
Secessionist and took part in all the proceedings. When
the convention was called in Tallahassee he repaired to
the Capital to inform himself.
January Ist, IS6I.-A New Year has come to us
now. This is dear Grandmother's birthday and, though
she went to Heaven years ago, her children still meet
on her anniversary and talk of her and of the days of
their childhood. I like it and I never will forget when
Father's and Mother's birthdays come. As we sat
around the long table today the conversation turned on
the convention, so soon to meet in Tallahassee. Father
said he considered this the most momentous year in the
history of the South. He is for Secession and he does
not think that war will necessarily follow. Brother Junius is a strong Union man and he thinks we will certainly have war; he says we will have war in any eventf If
the South secedes the North will fight to keep us, and
if we do not secede all our property rights will be taken
from us and we will be obliged to fight to hold our own.
He says he is in for the fight but he wants to fight in the
Union not out of it. Father thinks it is more honorable
to take an open and decided stand and let all the world
know what we are doing. Everyone at table who expressed an opinion was firmly set against the Republican party. Mother says she wants the negroes freed
but she wants the United States Government to make
laws which will free them gradually. All agree on one
point, if the negroes are freed our lands will be worthless. I wonder how it would feel to be poor and work
like the people Hannah Moore writes about?
January 2nd, i 8 6 I.-Uncle Richard and Uncle Tom
spent the morning with Father, the three brothers are
going to Tallahassee tomorrow to the opening of the
Secession Convention. They are so deeply interested.
January 3rd, i86I.-I would not write this morning
because I wanted to put down in my diary the first news
of the convention. Tonight father has told me what
I38 
War and Sorrow
they did; it was simply to organize and then they adjourned. Some of the delegates had not arrived and
this will give them the opportunity to get to Tallahassee
and present their credentials. Father says the Capitol
was full of men from all over the State and they look
very serious.
January 4th, I86I.-I can hardly keep my mind on
my books I am thinking so much of the probable action
of the convention. I know Father must have been glad
when the school bell rang this morning, it seems impossible for me to refrain from asking him questions,
which, of course, must be troublesome.
January 5th, I86I.-This is Saturday and Mother
lets Lulu make candy on Saturday and if she, my black
mammy, will let us, we help with it. She says we "do
not help but hinder;" maybe she is right. Cousin Rob
is spending the day here and Lulu has promised to teach
us how to make the candy baskets, which we love to
have her make for us. Cousin Rob does not care about
the convention, he is going to school in town but comes
homne Friday after school and goes back Monday morning. He is calling me now to play Graces, so will say
goodbye for this time, little diary.
January  6th,  I86i.-This  morning  we  went  to
Mount Zion to hear Mr. Blake preach. It is a treat to
listen to his sermons, he uses such beautiful language
and he explains the passages of Scripture he reads, so
clearly that it really stays in our minds and we remember. All ministers do not do this. Today he spoke
so earnestly of the representatives of the people of
Florida, now in convention assembled in Tallahassee.
He spoke of the heavy responsibility resting on them;
of the high compliment paid them by the people of
Florida, in trusting them with an issue of such paramount importance. He said we, none of us knew which
way was best; we must trust in God and do good. We
must remember that our strength cometh from on
139 
Through Some Eventful  Years
high and the way to, gain that strength is to pray to the
Lord, for He has said "knock and it shall be opened
unto you. Ask and ye shall receive." Of course I
cannot tell it as he spoke it, but it made every one feel
solemn and as if some share of the responsibility rested
on each one of us.
Mr. Blake took dinner with us and Eddie came with
him. He is just the shyest little boy. When the company were all gone Father told me to ask Lulu to get
me ready to go with him to town next morning. He
said he was going to show me what a convention was
like. I was so happy at the thought of going and my
heart fell when Mother said: "Surely, Dr. Bradford,
you are not going to take the child away from school?"
(Mother does not like us to miss any time) but Father
said, "Yes, I am going to take her with me in the morning, this is history in the making, she will learn more
than she can get out of books and what she hears in
this way she will never forget." I am so glad. I am
so excited I cannot hold my pencil steady but I must
write this down.
January 7th, I86I.-I am so glad it is not raining
today. I am really going and, little diary, I will tell
you all about the day when we get home.
8:30 p. m. We have just finished supper. Mother
would not let me write until we had eaten, now she
says I can only have one hour because I am going again
tomorrow and must have a good sleep.
The convention was assembling in the hall of representatives when we entered the Capitol, and soon everybody was in place and Dr. DuBose made a very fine
prayer. I like Dr. DuBose and perhaps I ought not
to write this about him, but nobody will see my diary
and really I do not mean any harm, but he has such a
convincing way of praying; like he was determined the
Lord should grant all he asks. It is very comforting.
After the preliminaries were disposed of a communi
I40 
War and Sorrow
cation from the Governor was read and the first thing
I knew Aunt Mary, who was sitting next caught me by
the hand and said, "Look, there is the ambassador
from South Carolina." A small man very erect and
slender was being introduced by Mr. Villepigue as Mr.
Leonidas Spratt of South Carolina. Mr. Spratt bowed
gravely and looking around upon the audience with a
pair of brilliant, beautiful eyes, he began somewhat in
this manner, though I probably will not get it quite
right.
He said he felt some delicacy in appearing before
this convention, coming as he did from a foreign power,
but the heart of South Carolina was filled with love and
sympathy for Florida, who now was standing where
Carolina had so lately stood. Then he read aloud a
communication from his state, recounting the grievances, which had led her to sever the ties which bound
her to the Union. You never heard such cheers and
shouts as rent the air, and it lasted so long. When
quiet was restored Mr. Villepigue introduced Colonel
Bulloch, of Alabama, and I found that he was the
same Col. Bulloch who had taken part in the mock trial
in the ball room at Montvale Springs. He made a fine
address but a short one. Said his own state was now
deliberating as to what course she should pursue and
had sent him to assure Florida of her cordial good-will.
He sat down amid cheers for "Bulloch and Alabama."
Mr. Edmund Ruffin, of Virginia, was introduced
and said he came to tell us that Virginia was with her
Southern sisters in feeling and, if the worse came to the
worst, she would be with them, heart and soul. He
is a splendid looking man, quite old and yet he is perfectly erect and only his snow-white hair shows his age.
He reminds me very much of dear Grandpa, who is
taking such a warm interest in these proceedings, though
he is so far away. I believe it will break his heart if
North Carolina does not secede.
141 
Through Some Eventful Years
When the speaking was over and a few resolutions
had been passed the convention adjourned and we came
home. We left a noisy crowd behind us. As far as we
could hear there were cheers for South Carolina; cheers
for Mississippi; cheers for Alabama and for Florida.
Never before have I seen such excitement.  It even
throws the horse races in the shade. What will tomorrow bring?
January 8th, I86I.-We are at home again after
a day filled to overflowing with excitement and interest.
We were in such a hurry to get to town that the convention had not assembled when we reached the Capitol. There were groups of men talking earnestly and
there were other men running hither and thither with
papers in their hands. Father has a great many friends
and I stood quietly beside him while he and they discussed the situation. The ambassador from South
Carolina had evidently made an impression on his audience of yesterday and somebody had been busy last
night, for in every direction could be seen Palmetto
cockades, fastened with a blue ribbon; there were hundreds of them. When at last the hall of representatives
was opened and Father and I took our seats, Judge
Gwynn came in and pinned a cockade on Father and one
on me. Oh, I was so proud.
Judge McGeehee is Father's friend and he shook
hands with us as he entered the hall.
The members of the convention took their seats and
Mr. Blake, our dear Mr. Blake, whom we love so well,
opened the day's session with prayer; such a beautiful
prayer. I had never seen a convention until Father
brought me here and it is strange to me. I wish I could
tell all I heard today but the language the members used
is not familiar to me and some of the things they talk
about are just as new. Then, too, I am just a little girl.
A message was read on the floor of the convention,
from Governor Brown of Georgia, to Governor Mil
I42 
War and Sorrow
ton. As near as I can remember it was this way:
"Georgia will certainly secede. Has Florida occupied
the fort?"
Mr. Sanderson was very interesting. He recounted
the rights which the states retained when they delegated other rights to the general government in the
Constitution. He made it so perfectly clear that all and
every state had the right to withdraw from the Union,
if her rights and liberty were threatened.   He  said
the Committee on Ordinances had carefully examined
into the question and they could find no reason why
Florida should not exercise her right to withdraw from
a compact, which now threatened her with such dire
disaster. I cannot understand all the work assigned to
the different committees; perhaps I am not old enough;
people grow wiser as they grow older; so aunt Robinson says. I am going again tomorrow. My palmetto
cockade lies on the table beside me.
January 9th, I86I.-There has been a hot time in
the convention today; the nearer they get to a final decision the hotter it gets. Colonel Ward made a most
eloquent address to the convention. He told them that
he was a Union man but it was in this way: in his opinion the South had done more-to establish that Union
than any other section; it was a Southern man who
wrote the Declaration of Independence, it was a Southern man who led the American army, it was Southern
men who framed the Constitution, a Southern man
wrote our National Anthem and, in so doing had immortalized the Star-spangled Banner and he proposed
to hold on to that which we had done so much to bring
about. He was willing to fight, if fight we must, but
he wanted to fight in the Union and under that flag
which was doubly ours. The heartiest applause greeted
him as he sat down. It was plain to see that his audience was tremendously affected but the next speaker
tore his fine argument to shreds. So it went on all day,
I43 
Through Some Eventful Years
some committee business would interrupt now and then
but the most of the time was spent in debate for or
against secession.
Our old friend, Mr. Burgess says: "If Mrs. Harriet
Beecher Stowe had died before she wrote'Uncle Tom's
Cabin,' this would never have happened." He says,
"she has kindled a fire which all the waters of the earth
cannot extinguish." Isn't it strange how much harm
a pack of lies can do?
January ioth, I86I.-It is night and I am very tired
but there is much to tell. The Ordinance of Secession
was voted on today. Bishop Rutledge made the opening prayer and it was very impressive. He pleaded so
earnestly for God's guidance for these members, in
whose hands lay the future of Florida. These men feel
their responsibility I am sure, their faces are so serious
and yet so alert. Not one word escapes them and
when an amendment is needed they are so careful to
make it plain to all. I heard something today about a
flag which had been presented to Florida but I have not
seen it as yet.
After the committees were disposed of the Ordinance
of Secession was voted on. The vote was 62 for and 7
against. The ordinance was declared adopted at 22
minutes after I2 o'clock. It was resolved that at one
o'clock on the next day, January I Ith, the Ordinance
of Secession should be signed on the east portico of
the Capitol.  The  convention then adjourned until
the afternoon session.
Mississippi seceded last night and it seems we will
have plenty of company. The Union men in the hall
looked very sad. They have worked hard for their
side, but they had only a few followers.
January I I th, i 86 I.-We did not try to be early this
morning, as the big event of the day did not take place
until one o'clock. Capitol Square was so crowded you
could see nothing but heads and the Capitol itself was
144 
War and Sorrow
full of people looking from the windows, which looked
out on the east portico. Somehow Father and I had
seats on the portico itself, close up to the wall where
we were not in the way and yet we could both see and
hear.
There was a table already there with a large inkstand
and several pens, nothing more. A subdued murmur
came from the assembled citizens but there was none of
the noise and excitement which had prevailed on other
days; all seemed impressed with the solemnity of the
occasion for oh, it is solemn! I did not realize how
solemn until Mr. Sanderson read the Constitution and
I understood just why it was necessary for Florida to
secede.
As the old town clock struck one, the Convention,
headed by President McGehee, walked out on the portico. In a few moments they were grouped about the
table on which some one had spread the parchment
on which the Ordinance of Secession was written. It
was impossible for me to tell in what order it was
signed, the heads were clustered so closely around the
table, but presently I heard Col. Ward's familiar voice.
There was a little break in the crowd and I saw him
quite plainly. He dipped his pen in the ink and, holding it aloft he said, in the saddest of tones, "When I
die I want it inscribed upon my tombstone that I was
the last man to give up the ship." Then he wrote slowly across the sheet before him, "George T. Ward."
The stillness could almost be felt. One by one they
came forward and after a while Col. Owens, a Baptist
minister, who is lame, came up to sign and in a loud
voice he sid: "Unlike my friend, Colonel Ward, I want
it inscribed on MY tombstone that I was the FIRST
man to quit the rotten old hulk." A very faint applause greeted this, but it died away before it hardly
began. This was no time for jesting; it meant too
much.
I45 
Through Some Eventful Years
When at length the names were all affixed, cheer after
cheer rent the air; it was deafening. Our world seemed
to have gone wild.
General Call is an old man now; and he is a strong
Union man. Chancing to look toward him I saw that
the tears were streaming down his face. Everybody
cannot be suited and we are fairly launched on these
new waters; may the Voyage be a prosperous one.
Nearly everybody seems to be happy and satisfied.
The Supreme Court Judges, into whose hands the document just signed, has been placed, have carried it to
Miss Elizabeth Eppes to engross or adorn it with blue
ribbon; the judges selected Miss Bettie because she is
a granddaughter of Thomas Jefferson. I hope President Jefferson likes our Ordinance-I believe those who
are gone know all we are doing here below.
Father says the rest of the proceedings of this convention will be confined to business matters and though
he is planning to attend, he will leave me at home and
let me go on with my studies. I wonder if I can collect
my wits enough to learn my lessons. I will have Saturday to rest up in and Lulu will make us some candy.
The Diary leaves off and the story takes up the course
of events.
SECOND CONVENTION, APRIL, i 86I
From this time on the South was an ever-increasing
scene of activity. There was much to be done; the
forming of a new government was a task in itself and
before anything could be done in that direction for the
different states, a Southern Confederacy was formed
and again a convention assembled in Tallahassee to provide for the entrance of Florida into this compact. The
wisest heads were needed to draw up a Constitution,
which would provide for changed conditions while holding fast to the old.
Jefferson Davis was elected President of the Confederacy; a wiser choice could not have been made. A
I40 
War and Sorrow
man of unblemished character, of high intellectual ability, accustomed to command (for he was a born leader
of men) a statesman of the highest order. The South
had none better, if as well, fitted for the position. An
able cabinet was selected and President Davis was inaugurated at Montgomery, Alabama, the first capital
of the Southern Confederacy.
The war clouds grew so black that there was no longer any excuse for trying to delude ourselves into the
belief that the' seceding states would be allowed to depart in peace. Abraham Lincoln having broken his
solemn promise to the South, in April the "Shot was
fired which was heard around the world."  The war
was on-God help us. Volunteers had been many and
now there was
"A hasty marshalling of armed bands."
There were no hirelings in the Southern army, no
substitutes, no German Mercenaries, but true-hearted
sons of the South, ready to lay down their lives for the
land they loved. The women of the South had never
known what it was to work with their own hands but
now nothing, which could contribute to the welfare of
the soldiers, was too hard for them to do. Dainty
fingers sewed on uniforms and flannel shirts and, later
on, when no cloth could be had from which to make
these needed garments, they learned to spin and weave
and knit and sew, that their loved ones might be clothed.
The first troops to leave home for the war were the
Ist Florida Regiment and they were ordered to Pensacola to secure the forts there. It was a fine body of
men and we were proud of them, but it made our hearts
ache, too.
Dr. Bradford volunteered as a surgeon in the Confederate service but the Secretary of War requested
that he would remain at home and furnish supplies to
the army, as this was as necessary as anything else, and
I47 
Through Some Eventful Years
Dr. Bradford, with his large plantations, could do so
much. But he did not like this, he had come from a long
line of fighters and the impulse was strong within him;
his father and grandfather had served in the War of
the Revolution and his maternal ancestor, Oliver Cromwell, of England, had the courage of a lion, and he has
left us that famous saying which will never die, "Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God."
The Doctor had plenty of what we slangy Americans term, "backbone," and he made another effort
to get into the army, but there seemed to be no place
for a lame man, so he stayed at home but he was always looking out for every way in which it was possible to serve his country.
The white men in his employ had all entered the
service and negroes had taken their places. In the yard
at Pine Hill stood an office consisting of one large room
with several windows and a large fireplace, this the
Doctor had used as his business office. Now it was fitted up as a bedroom, with every comfort that could be
devised. In each corner of this twenty-four foot room
was a bedstead, not a small hospital bed, but an oldfashioned double bed. The mansion was roomy and
two of these rooms were also fitted in the same way and
then the Doctor gave notice at the hospitals and camps
that he was ready for sick and wounded soldiers. It
is needless to say they were sent and, throughout the
four years of warfare, these beds were seldom empty.
The doctor was a skillful surgeon, besides being a physician. Mrs. Bradford had the kindest of hearts and
was a true doctor's wife. She knew much of medicines
and her skillful ministrations had brought solace to
many a sufferer. They had abundant means and plenty
of good servants, so they were well equipped for the
work they had engaged in. Mrs. Bradford, like the
wife who is so praised and lauded in Proverbs, "looked
well to the ways of her household," and her many maids
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War and Sorrow
were taught to spin and weave and the quantity of
cloth turned out from her looms was astonishing. This
cloth went to the soldiers of the Confederacy. There
was dire need of all that could be woven, for the blockade was enforced so rigidly that but few blockade-runners could evade it and we had to depend upon our own
efforts to supply what was wanted.
Dr. Bradford was an analytical chemist and in the
forests about us were many medicinal herbs; from
these he manufactured drugs to take the place, in a
measure, of those we could not possibly get.
That blockade was a cruel and an inhuman measure,
even in war.  To cut off from suffering women and
babies the medicine they needed because some soldiers
might be saved by their use; but then Sherman said,
"War is Hell." Our enemies certainly did all they
could to make it so.
We have told you of Mr. Hopkins, the New Yorker,
who had come South and married into the Branch family. As a matter of course, when war was declared
the South looked with more or less suspicion on these
pseudo-Northern men, they would bear watching, they
said. This seemed true in one sense but unjust in another. Soon after war had been declared, a small boat
came into port at Saint Marks. There were three men
aboard and theirs was a tale of shipwreck. The man-ofwar on which they served had been wrecked off the
Florida Keys, and in this small boat they had escaped.
This sounded bad when our people were suspicious
of all strangers and they were arrested and carried to
Tallahassee, where, on exmination, they proved to be
Lieutenant Seldon, of the United States Navy, and two
of his crew. They had been on a three-years' cruise
in foreign waters and had heard nothing of the political disturbances nor of the war, in which the United
States was involved. Lieutenant Seldon was paroled
and his men held as prisoners of war. We have told
I49 
Through Some Eventful Years
you that Mrs. Hopkins had spent much of her youth
in Washington city. She had known Lieutenant Seldon
there and Mr. Hopkins invited him to stay at Goodwood, while he remained in Florida. The offer of hospitality was gratefully accepted and this simple act was
construed by some to indicate disloyalty on the part of
the kind-hearted master of Goodwood. The fact that
Mr. Hopkins had encouraged all his clerks to volunteer
in the Confederate service; that he had given to each
one his uniform and other necessary equipment at his
own expense, should have made these doubters ashamed
of themselves. But as the war dragged its slow length
along and Mr. Hopkins never let an opportunity pass
to aid the cause, suspicion was lulled to rest.
The Union men everywhere, whether of northern
or southern birth, were looked at askance at first, but
as these same Union men, one after another, volunteered their services and went to the front, all this was
forgotten and we were one united people, having but
one aim, the protection of our homes.
Believing that the clearest idea of the conditions
which confronted us in these trying times can be gained
by little daily happenings, we return to the pages of the
diary and ask your attention to the events chronicled
there:
March 3rd,  186 I.-Father has volunteered. Mother
was bitterly opposed but though Father yielded to her
in many things he would not in this. I wish I was a boy;
even if I am young, I could go with him if only I were
not a girl. It will beak my heart if he goes.
March I7th, i86I.  Brother Amos has been a member of the Governor's Guards for a long time; that is,
ever since the company was organized last October and
he did not tell us until tonight that the Guards volunteered two weeks ago. Sister Mag was wild with grief
at first but Mother tried to comfort her by insisting that
150 
War and Sorrow
there would be no fightingsjust talk of war and reconciliation would follow. Brother Junius came in to supper and he told us he and Dr. Gardner and several
others were raising a company in this county, to be called
the Dixie Yoemen. Richmond Gardner, Captain; Joel
Blake, Ist Lieutenant; Junius Taylor, 2nd Lieutenant;
Jimmie Conner, 3rd Lieutenant. These men must
think there will be war or they would not be preparing
for it. This is extremely exciting.
April I7th, I86I.-Yesterday we had a picnic on
Lake McBride, the occasion being the presentation of a
flag to the Dixie Yeomen. The ladies of the Bradford
neighborhood embroidered the banner and though
cousins Martha and Rebecca Bradford designed and
selected the silks, we, every one, did our part in the
work. Even if the stitches were few, when the fingers
were unskilled, those few stitches represented the deepest love for our country and her brave defenders.
The flag was presented by Miss Bradford and received by Captain Gardner. Both made fine speeches
and, when that was over, we served an elegant dinner
under the magnificent Live Oaks, which have stood
guard over the lovely lake for many centuries. After
dinner there was target practice and boat-riding; this
does not seem like war.
The Ist Florida Regiment went to Pensacola today.
Oh! this is like war. In the Leon Artillery, Captain
Hilton commanding, Edward Bradford and Mr. Routh
and many others of our Tallahassee friends. In the
Leon Rifles were many more, but it was the Madison
Company, Captain Richard H. Bradford commanding,
which hurt me most. The entire Bradford family adore
Cousin Rich, he is so young, so talented, so handsome
and Sir Galahad himself was not more spotless than he.
When the call for volunteers was made in the court
house in Madison, Judge Vann made a stirring and
patriotic speech. He pictured the grimness of war as
I5I 
Through Some Eventful Years
well as its glory and when he had finished he stood beside the table, where a blank sheet awaited the signatures of those who should respond. For a moment the
silence of death rested on the crowd assembled there,
then Richard Bradford stepped forward and affixed his
name to the paper which meant so much. Others came
quickly and in a few minutes the hundred men needed
for the company had signed and they elected Richard
Bradford captain, and he the youngest man there.
I have often heard that "history repeats itself," and
it is surely true sometimes. The book Miss Brewer
sent me years ago about Mrs. Nancy Bradford, of New
England, is very like Mrs. Nancy Bradford of Florida.
In her diary the Mrs. Bradford of Revolutionary days
was telling of the dangers which surrounded her husband and their five sons, all of whom were in the American army. She told of the heartaches, which she knew
and the privations they suffered.
Our Mrs. Nancy Bradford has five sons also and four
of them have volunteered in the Confederate army;
the fifth would like to enlist also but he is just a little
school boy and must wait awhile. I hope the war,
which is just beginning, will not last that long. One of
her sons is in West Virginia with General Lee, one has
joined the Dixie Yeomen, one went to Pensacola in the
Leon Artillery, and one, the Benjamin of the household,
is captain of the Madison Volunteers. Aunt Nancy is
something like our mother in appearance, she is just
as tiny but she is even fairer and where our mother's
eyes are blue and her hair a golden brown, her hair and
eyes are of the lightest shade of brown you can imagine.
I love her dearly and I tell her she dresses like Jenny
Wren in Mother Goose, "For I will wear my brown
dress and never look too fine." Our mother dresses in
the fashion and she likes silks and laces but Aunt Nancy
thinks it is wrong to attach any importance to dress,
beyond being neat and immaculately clean. Both of
I52 
'7War and Sorrow
them are members of the Methodist Church but their
ideas differ on many points. When I asked Mother to
explain this she said, "Our Lord looks at the heart and
not the dress, read your Bible carefully and thoughtfully and you will find that our Heavenly Father requires nothing of His children but obedience and love."
I shall try to remember this, to obey and to love.
May 9th, I86i.-We hear many rumors and the papers are filled with alarming paragraphs, just enough to
keep us "on the anxious bench," yet not enough to give
much real information.  We have been hearing hints of
a blockade but last night the news reached us that the
United States Government established on the 6th of
May, a blockade of all Southern ports, beginning at
Pensacola. This is bad but the South has, so many bays
and inlets along her miles and miles of sea-coast that it
seems almost impossible to prevent the entrance of
vessels that wish to come in. The Southern Confederacy needs everything you can mention in the way of
weapons and munitions of war; neither have we manufactories, where these can be made. Nearly every day
some new company is organized and the need for arms
grows greater all the time. Cousin Bettie Bradford
has been at school in New York and now she is in a
great hurry to get home before it is too late.  Cousin
Johnnie has gone on for her but nothing has been heard
from them as yet and the family are feeling anxious.
May I Ith, I86I.-The wanderers got home  last
night, the direct route was so closely guarded that they
had to come across country to Vicksburg, on the Mississippi and, taking a flat-boat there, come south until
they reached a landing at one of the large Louisiana
plantations, where they got off. Cousin Johnnie explined the situation and tried to hire a conveyance of
some kind to travel to the next town, but the planter
was the soul of hospitality and entertained them until
the next morning and then sent them on in his carriage
I53 
Through Some Eventful Years
to a place where a livery stable was kept. Here they purchased a horse and buggy and thus they reached home.
Cousin Bettie has been at school in the North for four
years, with just a short visit at Christmas.
June I Ith, 186I.-Perhaps it would be as well, my
dear Diary, to write here a short sketch of the Bradford neighborhood at this time. The war is an established fact and a shadow lies across the hearts of the
Southern people. It may be that the North feels it
equally with ourselves, but I cannot think so. This is
the reason why. We did not want this war. It rested entirely with the North whether it should be WAR or
PEACE. We wanted peace but war was forced upon
us and now that it has begun we will do our best to win.
May The God of Battles help us.
Coming southward from the Georgia line you reach
the Bradford neighborhood at Pine Hill Plantation, the
home of Dr. Edward Bradford. He has no sons, only
daughters, but he has three sons-in-law in the army.
The next place is Oaklawn, the home of Captain William H. Lester. The Captain's head is white, he gained
his title in the Indian War but he has three sons and a
son-in-law in the army. Then comes Greenwood, where
Dr. Holland lives with a house full of daughters. His
only son was among the first to volunteer and he also
has a son-in-law in the service. Mr. Thomas A. Bradford comes next. Walnut Hill Plantation lost its mistress some years ago and the affairs of the household
are administered by four beautiful and capable daughters. There are three sons also and these are in the
Confederate army, as well as a son-in-law, who had
won the fifth daughter from the old home. Water Oak
Plantation is the home of the youngest of the Bradford brothers. He has four sons in the army.
This completes the entire number of men eligible
for military duty and you see no one is shirking this
duty. While the men have gone forth to meet the foe
154 
I7ar and Sorrow
the women are not idle. The blockade established by
President Lincoln has cut us off entirely from the rest
of the world; we must depend upon our own resources
and we are trying to utilize them all. Father says we
never know what can be done until we are pushed to
the wall and that is just where we are finding ourselves
now. And this is only the beginning.
So far we have plenty of cloth for some purposes
but uniforms are more necessary than anything else at
present and no suitable material can be had. Of course
the men of wealth can and do, buy up all in reach, but
there are so many hundreds who must be clothed. The
factories of North Georgia and Alabama are running
day and night, turning out "Butter-nut Jeans" from
which the women all over the South are fashioning
uniforms. We are knitting socks, too, for they are
needed; the dainty hosiery of pre-war days will not
stand the necessarily hard usage of camp life. I learned
to knit when I was quite small and now I am very glad
of it; we try to see who can complete a pair of socks
in the shortest space of time.
July 4th, i86i.-This day, which was once so filled
with merriment and pleasure, is now a thing of the past,
where we are concerned. Father and my uncles let the
negroes go ahead with the usual Fourth of July barbecue. Father said it would not be right to curtail their
pleasures because of our own troubles; so they are having a merry time today.
July 22nd, I86I.-Joy! Joy!! There has been a
great victory for our side.  Yesterday the Battle of
Manassas was fought in Virginia and it was a complete victory for the Confederates. Our army chased
the Yankees almost to Washington city. General Beauregard is the hero of the hour although there are so
many who are heroic, it is hard to discriminate. Our
loss has not yet been ascertained; nor do we know the
enemyv's loss. The telegraph office is crowded all the
I55 
Through Some Eventful Years
time and day and night the people are flocking thither
for news of the great battle.
July 23rd, I86I.-Today we had a thanksgiving
service at Mount Zion Church. Mr. Blake conducted
the services and his text was "The race is not to the
swift nor the battle to the strong but Thou, Oh Lord,
giveth the victory." He made the most beautiful prayer
I ever listened to and he prayed so earnestly and tenderly for those who had fallen in battle and for those
who had lost their loved ones.
A telegram this afternoon tells of the deaths of
Generals Bee and Bartow, both Georgians and both
relatives of the Whitehead family.
July 27th, I86I.-Each day brings us fresh news
from the battle of Manassas. One of our generals has
gained a new name from his action while in battle; he
is General Jackson, and he has been a professor in the
Virginia Military Institute. He is a strict disciplinarian
and his boys at the V. M. I. all knew better than to disobey and the soldiers in his command soon learned
the same lesson. Then, too, all who come in contact
with him in this new military life are impressed with
the personal magnetism he exerts. Uncle Daniel, who
was with him several days on business for General Lee,
who is in command of the Division in which Uncle
Daniel is a Brigadier General, says he is one of the
most remarkable men he ever met. In the height of
the Battle of Manassas General Jackson had his men
drawn up in line facing the enemy; they stood firm, an
unwavering line. The newspapers tell it this way.
General Bee was trying to rally his Brigade of Georgians; men of undoubted courage, but under fire for the
first time. As he waved his sword and urged them on
his eyes fell upon General Jackson with his well-drilled
Virginians, standing immovable. He cried out to his
men, "See, there stands Jackson like a stone wall."
Later in the day General Bee joined "The Immortals,"
I50 
War and Sorrow
but ere he went he gave to the quiet professor from
the V. M. I. a name which will live forever.
July 28th, i86i.-CColonel Robert Howard Gamble
is organizing "Gamble's Artillery," and Charley Hopkins has enlisted in that company and so have many
others from Tallahassee. Aunt Sue brought a beautiful
piece of French opera flannel and asked me to make
Charley two shirts. I am a little doubtful as to my ability but if I find it too difficult I can get my Lulu to finish
them for me; she sews so neatly and she makes all my
clothes, under Mother's direction. These shirts are blue
and they are to have real silver buttons, which Aunt Sue
has had made at the jewelers. She says silver will not
tarnish as common metal buttons might do.    Mr.
Pratorius is making Charley's uniform. I suppose I
will learn all the different uniforms after awhile. The
Infantry is gray, trimmed with blue, the buttons are of
brass and the officers have gold lace on their sleeves,
a chevron they call the design on the sleeves; a captain
has three gold bars on his collar; the privates do not
have any gold lace. Charley is in an artillery company and they wear a little red, but the uniform is gray,
too. Cousin Willim Bradford is in a cavalry regiment and his gray uniform is trimmed with corn-color.
They all look fine to me and I grow more patriotic all
the time but Sister Mag says that is because I am not
married.  Ridiculous; I am just a child.
The Governor's Guards volunteered some time ago
and now they are re-organizing and will serve as an in.
fantry company, with Captain G. W. Parkhill as their
captain. The name has been changed to "The Howell
Guards," in honor of Mrs. Jefferson Davis, who was a
Miss Howell. Soon they, too, will be going to Virginia; poor Sister Mag; she will be heartbroken I fear.
The Captain is a fine looking man in his uniform but
not so handsome as Brother Amos, who is 2nd Lieuten
I57 
Through Some Eventful Years
ant in the Howell Guards. They are in camp now and
are drilling every day.
August Ist, I86I.-The Howell Guards are going
to Virginia on the I2th of this month. Poor sister
Mag, she is not a bit patriotic and she is almost brokenhearted at this news. Her baby is more than a year old
now, fifteen months old, and he is learning to talk and is
so funny and sweet but even Eddie cannot bring a smile
to his mother's face, she is, the very picture of woe.
August I2th, i86i.-It is late at night but I cannot
sleep so will write up the events of the day. The Howell Guards left on the mid-day train. A crowd had
gathered around the depot to see them off. Mothers,
wives, sisters, sweethearts and friends-all were there.
Standing on the platform and looking around I marveled at what I saw. Women with bright, smiling faces,
looking tenderly on the soldiers, who were ready to depart. Saying fond, loving words of advice and of hope:
pressing the beloved gray-clad figure in a parting embrace; kissing the dear lips, maybe for the last time,
and yet those brave women smiled. As soon as the train
pulled out and the soldier boys could not see, the scene
changed. Sobs and tears, wild outbursts of grief on
every side, and yet, this had been suppressed lest it
grieve those brave hearts, who were going forth to battle for home and country.
On the way home Eddie seemed to try to see how
entertaining he could be, he took my'handkerchief and
wiped his mother's eyes, he kissed her over and over,
then he put on somebody's big glove and gravely offered
her his hand, saying, "Tell de popes howty." That
brought a smile; Niobe herself could not have resisted
the bright little baby face and the piping little voice.
Many a prayer goes up tonight from anxious hearts.
May God bless our dear soldiers and may God bless
the South.
September I5th, I86I.-All the troops are not sent
I58 
War and Sorrow
to Virginia, the Dixie Yeomen have been incorporated
into the Fifth Florida Regiment and they have gone
to Palatka to be drilled. So far the troops, which have
been sent had been drilling for some time and were con sidered fit for service but these fresh companies have
to learn.
Brother Junius went to Palatka, and we miss him
very much but it is not like he was going away off. Pa latka is so much nearer than Virginia, and then, too,
they are fighting in Virginia. I must tell you my Diary
what happened to Buddy. (I forgot, Mother says I
must call him Cousin William.) But this is what happened. He has been practising medicine in this county for
twelve years and everybody loves and trusts him. When
the men composing the Dixie Yeomen came forward
to be sworn into the Confederate service, first one man
and then another, until nearly all had spoken, said he
could not take the oath nor sign the Roster unless
Doctor William Bradford would consent to resign and
stay at home. Some of these men grew quite eloquent
about it. They said they could not leave their wives and
children unless the doctor would stay with them. "I
should be obliged to desert," said one man, "if Doctor
Bill was not in call, when my home folks got sick." So
after much discussion he consented to resign. I know
his mother rejoices in this for she has consumption and
is never well. His young wife and baby need him, too,
but then so many wives and babies have to suffer. This
is a great compliment to our doctor and Father and
Mother are delighted. He is their adopted son, you
know. They love him as if he was their very own and
no brother could be dearer to me.
October ioth, i86I.-War has come home to the
Bradford neighborhood!... Last night, October
9th, Captain Richard H. Bradford was shot in the
breast and instantly killed, while leading his men in an
attack on Santa Rosa Island. He was everybody's dar
I59 
Through Some Eventful Years
ling. We were so proud of him, too. Father went to
bear the sad news to Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy.
May God help them for this is hard to bear. Cousin
Edward Bradford, his brother, is bringing his body
home. The telegram said they would stop over a few
hours in Madison and the casket would lie in state in
the court house there, that Madison might do him honor. Then they will come on and he will be buried in
God's Acre at Pine Hill.
Mr. William Routh was killed also, he was engaged
to be married to Cousin Sallie and she fainted dead
away when she heard the terrible news. Oh! War is
worse even than I thought.
October I2th, I86I.-Cousin Rich was buried today. Crowds of people came and Governor Milton
delivered an eulogy on his spotless record. His is the
first blood shed on Florida soil in this cruel war. All
his brothers were present except Cousin Johnnie, who
is in Virginia. His two sisters are so distressed. When
the services at the grave were over a military company
came forward and fired three times across his grave,
it was horrible.
Three weeks ago Cousin Rich came home on a short
furlough. HIe came by Pine Hill to see us and after he
had said "goodbye," he stood a moment with his cap
in hand and looked about him.
"This is a lovely place," he said. "I hate to say goodbye," and in another moment he was gone.
We never know what the future holds for us. I
will not write again soon for Aunt Nancy wants me to
stay some with them. I am so fond of cousin Rob and
little Susie and maybe I can help a little bit.
November Ist, I86I.  School had opened on the
first of last month, but, after the trouble which came to
us, mother let Miss Sadie go to visit her sister for
a while. She came back on the I 5th and the other girls
have been going to school while I was away. This
Ioo 
War and Sorrow
morning I began again, there are no others in my class
so it did not really make much difference. Miss Sadie
does not teach Trigonometry, so I have laid that aside
until Father feels better and can help me with it. I feel
so strange-and the war news hurts me as it never did
before. I seem to be looking for bad news all the time.
Father says I must try to overcome this feeling, he has
given me a poem to learn and I think I shall copy it
here:
"Let us try to be happy,
WVe may if we will,
Find some good in life
To o'er balance the ill.
"There are times when
The lightest of spirits must bow
And the sunniest face
Wear a cloud on its brow.
"But the deeper our own grief
The greater the need,
To try to be happy
Lest other hearts bleed.
"Let us each in all earnestness
Work for the best;
And leave to our God and
Our conscience the rest
"Still holding this truth
Both in word and in deed
That who tries to be happy
Is sure to succeed."
In the Bradford neighborhood death had been a fre.quent visitor; tragedy had not passed us by; every
household had lost one or more,
"There is no flock however watched or tended,
But one dead lamb is there,
There is no fireside howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair."
i6i 
Through Some Eventful Years
and now we saw, in the near future many vacant chairs,
any day might bring us sad tidings and in this sorrowful
foreboding all had a share. Winter was approaching
in Virginia and warm clothing must be sent to our soldiers. Not only clothing, but blankets and shoes as
well. So far we had not felt the blockade and, with
extensive coast line,-we had not thought it possible for
an adequate blockade to be established. Now we were
beginning to change our minds; the South had exhausted some of the necessaries of life, how would we supply the need? On almost all of the large plantations,
spinning wheels and in some cases looms were kept.
These had been handed down from a preceding generation and only the old negroes knew how to use them.
In nearly every "quarter" some old woman could be
found, whose day for hard work was past and who em
ployed her time in spinning either wool or cotton into
knitting yarn, from which stockings and socks were
knit by other old people, for the benefit of their friends
and families on the plantation. Here was a start in
the right direction. Carpenters were called in and new
looms patterned by these old ones. A man with a turning lathe, who lived in south Georgia, made fine spinning wheels and the old negro women taught the art
of spinning to the younger ones. Soon the white women
took up the work and the whir of the wheel and the
noise of the baton could be heard in almost every home.
Shoes must be had. Dr. Bradford, for many years
past, had carried on quite a number of industries; to
these he now added a tan-yard, where hides of beeves,
which had furnished meat for the plantations were
placed in vats. Vast quantities of tan-bark was hauled
to the tan-yard and soon the hides were converted into
leather and speedily this leather was made into shoes.
"Where there's a will there's a way," they say.
On Pine Hill Plantation lived Henry Fort, a most
unusual type of his race. To his master and mistress,
i62 
War and Sorrow
he was invaluable, inasmuch as he was perfectly honest;
always truthful, and, though he was not an educated
negro, he had a remarkable aptitude for figures and he
who would cheat Henry in making change must rise
early, indeed.
When it was not convenient for the owners of Pine
Hill to go to town and supplies of any kind must be
bought, Henry was often given considerable sums of
money and sent to do the shopping. He had only one
fault and he rarely let that fault get the better of him,
but sometimes he found in Tallahassee something
stronger than water and on such occasions he came
home hilarious, in the extreme.
When the first call for troops for the Confederate
Government was made Dr. Bradford not only volun teered himself but he dismissed all the white men in his
employ, that they, too, might volunteer. He expected
to close the sawmill, the shingle mill, the brickyard,
everything, in fact except the grist mill, which was a
plantation necessity and the wheelwright's shop and the
smithy, which were also necessities; but this same Henry
Fort and others of his comrades begged so hard to be
allowed to run all these industries that permission was
given and we really believe they astonished even themselves by their success.
This had been going on for more than two months
when the Battle of Manassas was fought. About the
first of August some repairs were needed on the engine
which ran these mills and a machinist named John Cardy
was summoned from Tallahassee to mend the engine.
He was a Northern man, and in some way he made himself unpopular among the negroes who worked with him
on the machinery. Henry Fort had been sent to town
to purchase some groceries and it so happened that he
was one of the first to hear the news of the great Southern victory; he immediately proceeded to tank up with
some of "Damon's best," and, when he reached home,
I63 
Through Some Eventful Years
he was more than talkative. He had bought a new
carving set and the box in which they had originally
been placed was gone, Henry knew not where. He
was brandishing this ferocious knife in his -hand while
he told the news from Manassas and he grew hotter
with every word spoken and hurrahed loudly for the
South. Suddenly he spied John Cardy coming around
the corner. With a wild whoop Henry sprang from the
admiring group by whom he was surrounded, and calling as he went, "I ben wantin' to kill some Yankees all
day an' Ise gwine ter begin wid John Cardy." Away
went John Cardy and closely after came Henry. The
grove was enclosed by a thick hedge of Spanish bayonets; double gates opened on the public road; a thirtyfoot walk was on either side of the residence; but it
seemed as if poor John Cardy could see none of those.
Back and forth he ran along the bayonet hedge, Henry
pursuing. Finally he was cornered and with the sharp
points of the Spanish daggers sticking in his back, he
fell forward on his face yelling loudly for mercy. It had
happened so quickly we did not realize the danger but
now help was given, for Dr. Bradford had no mind to
allow murder on his premises. Henry was coaxed into
the kitchen, where Adeline assured him she had a cup
of hot coffee for him, and while she was preparing it
he fell asleep. John Cardy went back to town that
night and though the job was a good one and his money
always ready as soon as the work was done, never again
could he be persuaded to come to Pine Hill. So it is on
the stage of life, tragedy and comedy go hand in hand.
Letters came often from our soldiers in Virginia and
in the West. They were unaccustomed to the hardships of camp life, and indeed, as yet, real hardships
had not been encountered, though of course, they missed
the comforts of home. In most instances even the
privates had taken along some trusted servant, who
looked after his master's needs. There was no lack
I64 
War and Sorrow
of money and so far all the real necessaries could still
be had. The Confederacy was engrossed, heart and
soul, in striving to meet the problem of arms and accoutrements. Nitre beds were in evidence everywhere
and hopes of sufficient powder seemed about to be
realized. While all this was going on Mrs. Bradford
was getting her youngest ready to be sent off to school
in the Old North State. She, herself, had been educated
in Raleigh and when, in the summer of I86i, Governor
Branch wrote and urged that his "little Susan" be sent
to him, that he might take her to Raleigh and see her
safely placed at the same school her mother had attended, it sounded good to the home folks and, though
she, herself, was opposed to this change, all arrangements had been made and, as an old friend of the family was going to Richmond and would take charge of her
on the way, the day of departure had been fixed. We
will let her tell why this plan did not materialize:
THE DIARY
December ist, I86I.-Father was reading what I
had written about the Battle of Manassas and he said,
"My baby has forgotten to write of school plans. They
should be recorded by all means. In years to come you
will read of it with great interest and it should have
come before the account of the battle." As he thinks
it is not too late to tell of it I will write it here, though
I do not like to think of it. i was so opposed to it at
first and so disappointed when I had to give it up. In
June, last, Grandpa wrote to Mother, urging her to
send me to Raleigh to school. Mother was educated
in that city and many of her old friends still live there.
I would probably have their children as classmates
Grandpa, himself, would take me to Raleigh and see
to all details necessary. His plan was for me to go on
to Enfield with cousin Johnnie, who was then at home
I65 
Through Some Eventful Years
on a furlough and would see me safely in his hands. I
could visit Grandma and himself until school opened.
He said Raleigh was so far in the interior that there
would be no danger of the enemy reaching it and he
could think of no safer place in these days of war. He
went on to say he thought the war would be over in
sixty days; a great many people think so. Father was
opposed to this but Mother thought well of it and
though I hated the thought of leaving them, Mother
told such entrancing tales of school life in Raleigh,
that I soon became reconciled. Then, too, I dearly
love to please Grandpa. Mother graduated with first
honors and her father was so delighted that he gave
her that lovely set of jet and gold, which I have always
admired. I thought to myself, I, too, can study hard
and perhaps I can get first honors and Father and
Mother may be proud of their "ugly duckling" yet.
Though the blockade is much more effective than we
had any idea it would or could be, it was still an easy
matter to fit out a school girl.
In the fall of I86o uncle Arvah had bought an unusually large stock of goods and when, in the following
January, Florida seceded, he wired his commission
merchants in New York, to buy such goods as he was
in the habit of supplying himself with, to the value of
the cotton in his name, which they held in their possession. When these goods arrived, and they were
shipped immediately, the bills of lading showed one
hundred and forty-two thousand dollars worth of merchandise. So Mother had no difficulty in finding pretty
materials; she and Lulu made my dresses and Mrs.
Manning made my underwear. They were so beautifully made that I told sister Mag it was almost like her
bridal trousseau. My traveling dress was brown, a
soft, rough-surfaced material of wool, with small flecks
of gold color woven in. There is a long cape, lined
with satin of the same shade as the dress, quilted in
i66 
War and Sorrow
small diamonds. My hat is of beaver felt, the color of
the dress, three fluffy little ostrich tips are fastened
in with a gold arrow. The cape, too, is fastened with
three gold clasps. Such a pretty dress. But I will not
wear it to North Carolina, for as soon as I had made
up my mind to go things began to happen. The Battle
of Manassas did not seem to alarm them but when the
enemy attacked the coast of North Carolina, Father and
Mother were quite positive that I must stay at home
So, war interferes with everything, even with education
It may be all for the best, I am sure it is, since Cousin
Richard was killed. I believe what made Father and
Mother change their minds is the discovery that the
enemy are sending spies through the country to cut off
telegraphic communication, when they get ready to attack. It would be dreadful to be cut off from your
own home folks.
December  20th,  i86i.-I spent today at Uncle
Tom's. His daughters are just the smartest, busiest
people I ever saw. Cousin Mary Bernard and her
three children and cousin Frances with her five are
there, while Captain Bernard and Cousin Tom are at
the front and Christmas is at hand. There are but few
toys to be had, so they are dressing a large Christmas
tree with most of the decorations of home manufacture.
It is a beautiful tree. They have taken the bright-hued
autumn leaves, dipped them in wax and pressed them
with a warm iron; these are arranged in clusters and
they reflect the light from dozens of tiny twisted Confederate lanterns.  Long ropes of "Sodom Apples"
lend an added brightness and strings of pop-corn make
you think of the snow, which comes at Christmas in
colder lands. It is so good of these kind, loving aunts
to do so much for the children for I know they work
with heavy hearts.
Mr. Routh and Cousin Sallie were to have been married in November, he could only have a three days'
I67 
Through Some Eventful Years
leave of absence and the date was not quite certain, so
she was almost ready with her preparations when the
news of his death reached us. Her wedding dress was
made and waiting and only a few last little things remained to be done. She fainted dead away at the terrible tidings and the next day she locked herself in her
room and folded and put away, every article which had
been made, in a big Saratoga trunk, locked it and hung
the key around her neck. She is so pale and sad, it
gives me the heart-ache to look at her. And yet, this is
a part of war.
December 25th, I86I.-Christmas night!  No festive gathering tonight. We did not have a Christmas
tree. Mattie and Eddie hung up their stockings but
they had so many things they might better have hung
up a two bushel sack. I found a number of gifts on the
ligh.tstand beside my bed, when I awoke this morning.
The grown folks had presents, too, but somehow the
flavor of Christmas was not there. The servants and
all the hands on the plantation came as usual and Father
had fixed for them, just as is always done. He says they
are just children and must have their pleasure the same
as ever.
They shouted, "Crismus gif," they sang and danced,
they had the "Sweetened Dram." Gifts were not lacking, good wishes were spoken just the same but, was
it in my imagination, or was there really a difference?
Uncle William and Aunt Mary came and brought
the children but Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy did not
come-their sorrow was too fresh and keen.  Cousin
Rob came and of course Cousin William and Cousin
Sarah came but we missed the others. Aunt Sue is sick
and that, too, cast a gloom over the day.  Sister Mag
had a letter this morning from Brother Amos.  She had
not heard for some time and this was written somewhat
after the fashion of my diary. Of course he wrote a
lot of her and Eddie, with messages for the rest of us.
I68 
War and Sorrow
He also told her why the letter was so long delayed.
The snow is deep there now as the Howell Guards are
stationed at Evansport, on the Potomac and they cannot mail a letter every day. He thinks it is funny that
they enlisted first as a Cavalry company, then they were
Infantry and now they are serving as Artillery, manning
a battery of big guns.
He wrote of many of the Tallahassee boys; John
Day Perkins, he says, is the very quietest man in camp;
he rarely makes a remark of any kind. He says the
battery has sunk several small craft and recently the battleship Pennsylvania went down. When they were first
stationed there Captain Parkhill tested the boys to see
which were the best marksmen. He found he had
enough skilled men to fire the guns but the very best
marksman in the company proved to be Nick Eppes,
a stripling of seventeen, as pretty as a girl and looks
like one, too. He was placed in command of the biggest gun in the battery and, when the Pennsylvania was
sighted, few of the guns struck her except the shots
from the big guns, which went to the mark every time.
The Pennsylvania sank and still lies beneath the waters
of the Potomac. Talking it over afterward, John Day
surprised them all by remarking, "Nick didn't shoot all
those turkeys for nothing."  The company cheered and
clapped so enthusiastically that he was encouraged to
speak again, "I had rather be at home shooting turkeys
than here at Evansport shooting Yankees." The applause was louder than ever and they all voiced John
Day's sentiments.  Brother Amos says Dick Parkhill
is as gay and full of fun as ever; he makes love to every
girl he meets, does it, "to keep his hand in."
Frank Papy is low-spirited and almost sick. Brother
Amos is coming home in March to stay three weeks and
Sister Mag can hardly wait. We will all be delighted
to see him. He is the most hopeful person I ever met;
"the war will be over in thirty days"-"sixty days"
I69 
Through Some Eventful Years
"ninety days"-I do not know what comes next but
I do know he is a very pleasant person to talk to-you
feel so cheered up. He wrote, too, that the War Department has ordered all independent companies to be
merged into the different regiments. The Howeli
Guards will enter the 2nd Florida Regiment in General
Perry's command.
*        *        *         *
Again we take the pen to supplement "The Diary."
The army of Northern Virginia had gone into winter
quarters. Until the Spring opened there would be little or no fighting, but the soldiers from the South felt
the inclemency of the weather far more than the others.
So far blankets could be had and there was no scarcity
of provisions.
"Hope springs eternal
In the human breast"
and all, or nearly all, thought the war would soon be
over. The winter days and nights were long in camp
and the soldiers formed classes to study various subjects. Some studied Latin and Greek, some history,
etc., etc. Many different biographies were brought forward, especially did they feel an interest in the famous
warriors of both ancient and modern times. That created a taste for general literature which is a wide field.
Is it any wonder that the world never saw such an
army before? Yet despite all this there were many
who could not even write the few words home which
would have given such comfort to the anxious heart of
wife or mother or sister, waiting-always waiting. It
is true some kind-hearted comrade would write that letter home for his less favored brother; but it requires
an effort, just at first, to tell of one's ignorance.
For three years a young and extremely delicate woman came once a week to our house to ask for news of
her husband, who was in Captain Taylor's company.
I7o 
War and Sorrow
She could and did write to him, but he could not write
himself and so he asked his captain to mention him in
his own letters home and we would tell his wife the
news. This went on for three years. Some days she
would be so exhausted from the ride of four miles, that
she would be obliged to stay all day and go back in the
cool of the evening. Her maid, "Old Holland," who
had nursed her as a baby and whom she called "Mammy,"' took excellent care of her and watched so tenderly beside her couch while she slept the hours away.
In the summer of I863 came the sad tidings of his
death; he was killed in the Battle of Gettysburg and
left on the field.
We feared she could not stand the shock, she was so
weak and frail, but apparently she was stronger than
she looked. Her mammy took entire charge of all her
business affairs and they lived on together in the little
home her dead soldier had provided. We went sometimes to see how they were faring and then, one winter
morning Holland sent word that she was gone and
help was needed to lay her to rest.
We have told you of the improvised hospital at Pine
Hill. Some of the soldiers who came to be taken care
of could not read or write. On one occasion an elderly
man who had been wounded in the head, was desperately
ill with high fever but it passed off and in a few days
he could sit up and move about the room.  Going to
take him his breakfast, we found him sitting on the
front steps, his head in his hands and groaning heavily.
"Do you feel worse, Mr. Wells?" we questioned.
"No, mum, I don't, but I wants ter see my ole'oman.
She ain't writ ter me in a long time an' I can't nuver
writ nothin' ter her,'cause yer see I ain't eddicated."
We offered our services, which were gratefully accepted
and, in trying to get the correct address, we found she
did not live so very far away after all. He could take
the train in Thomasville' and get to the town of Boston
I7I 
Through Some Eventful Years
in a short time. He had thought it was hundreds of
miles away. Jordan was summoned, a team was
brought around, a lunch prepared and Mr. Wells was
quickly transported to his "ole'oman."
Ignorance is pitiful in a way, no matter where you
find it. One handsome young mountaineer, who was
sent to Pine Hill to be treated for a double break in
his right thigh, was not so fortunate as Mr. Wells, inasmuch as his home was in the Cumberland Mountains
and not so easily reached but he was more fortunate in
being perfectly satisfied. Give him a knife and something to whittle and he was happy and while his hands
were at work he whistled softly under his breath and
his tune was always the same, "The Girl I Left Behind Me."
We thought of a lithe, slender figure of some mountain lassie; we pictured the young pair at the mountain
spring, the moonlight casting shadows around them as
they vowed eternal faith and love.  We wove quite a
romance, but we were destined to a ridiculous awakening.
On the morning of his departure, after a stay of
three months, he gave to the servant who waited upon
him a folded paper, directing him to give it to the young
lady of the house when he had gone. Always when a
soldier departed from this hospital his needs were carefully looked after, his clothes put in order, new ones
supplied if needed; a lunch was put up for him and then
the family gathered around to shake his hands and wish
him well.
This morning all these preliminaries had been gone
through with and goodbyes were being said. Taking
the hand of the young lady aforesaid, he blurted out,
"You is de gal I ben a whistlin' about; you is de gal I
is aleavin' behind me, but I is acomin' back, ef Lincoln's
boys don't find me."
The girl was abashed and indignant but it would
I72 
War and Sorrow
never do to hurt the feelings of a soldier boy just leaving for the war, so she had to restrain herself. The
folded note proved to be a poem (?) of many verses,
arranged to be sung to the tune of "The Girl I Left
Behind Me," and written in the style of the author's
conversation. It was evidently a work of time and patience and was certainly original.
One cold March day, when the spring winds were
fairly sweeping the earth, an ambulance drove up to
the door; Dr. Bradford went hurrying out, his assistants following closely in his wake.  The ambulance contained four badly wounded men; one poor fellow looked
as if he was already dead. Restoratives were applied
and soon all four of them were comfortably in bed, their
wounds dressed by Dr. Bradford's skillful hands.
We knew not who they were nor from whence they
came; the wounds were not quite fresh nor had they
been attended to and there seemed to be some mystery
in this. Shortly before their coming a skirmish near
St. Mary's had been noted in the papers, but no account of killed or wounded; it seemed to have been
so slight as not to receive more than a passing notice.
We asked if they had been wounded in this skirmish
but no satisfactory answer could be elicited.  They
had evidently been exposed to the weather, it had rained
hard two days before and they had been wet and the
clothes had dried on them. All hope of obtaining information vanished with the night, for they had high
fever and three of them developed pneumonia and were
very ill.
For days we thought they could not live. The fourth
a grouchy, silent fellow, had no word to say and, when
his comrades began to improve, he vanished as mysteriously as he came. Efforts to find out the command
to which they belonged were fruitless. The hospital in
Tallahassee had not sent them; in fact knew nothing
concerning them. At last they were well enough to
I73 
Through Some Eventful Years
move on and they sought a private conversation with
Dr. Bradford when the mystery was unravelled.
They belonged to Colonel Evans' Georgia Regiment
and at St. Marys they were not far from their homes.
They were wounded, but not too badly hurt to travel.
They asked leave of absence to go home and it was refused. Then they took matters in their own hands. In
Tallahassee, where they had been on one occasion, they
presented a forged note to the negro driver of the hospital ambulance, the negro could not read so they asked
him where he was going. He told them he was returning from Pine Hill to Tallahassee. They asked several questions as to where this place was? What was
done there and, the negro being very communicative,
they soon had their plans laid. Telling him that they
knew all that and were quizzing him, they read him the
bogus note, which was really just a scrawl, saying:
"Transport these four soldiers to Pine Hill."
They got in, the driver put whip to his horses and as
the distance was not great, and he soon announced,
"Here's de Doctor's." Scowling terribly, they told
the thoroughly frightened negro if he dared to tell he
had seen them or that he had given them a ride, they
would kill him.
"Doctor," the spokesman said, "we are not deserters
in the true sense of the word; we meant to report for
duty as soon as we were able and now we would like
to go back and help to fight, but if we go back to camp
we will be hung as deserters. Can you help us? You
have saved our lives once already; can you save us
again?"
It was a difficult problem, but the doctor would
try. He wrote a letter, which was calculated to move
even a heart of stone and sent a man on horseback to
Lake City, where Colonel Evans with his boys was encamped. The messenger was gone a week, a long,
anxious week to those poor soldiers, but when the an
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War and Sorrow
swer to the doctor's letter came it was satisfactory.
They were to report to Colonel Evans at once and he
would arrange matters with the captain of the company to which they belonged. In conclusion he wrote:
"You are doing a good work, may Heaven bless you."
There is much more to tell of this; of those who came
to be treated at Pine Hill but we will let it wait, while
we tell of conditions in the Confederacy and the action
taken by other nations as to the war being waged.
We had expected to be recognized by the nations of
the Old World. In this we were disappointed; Spain
alone held out the hand of brotherhood. Some promised
"neutrality," a few observed it. We believe there was
in some countries, a sentiment favorable to the South
but fear kept it under. All the world stood off and
watched the unequal fight go on.
AGAIN THE DIARY
March 8th, I862.-I do not like Dr. Cleveland. I
wonder how much longer he is going to stay? This
morning while we were sitting at the breakfast table he
was contending with Mother about the "sweet-briar."
It seems he has spent much time in England, perhaps
he is an Englishman, but he insists that there has never
been any "sweet briar," or as he says, any "true Eglantine" in America. I think it is rude of him to be so
positive with Mother, but Father says, "all scientific
men love to dispute with the laity." At last, when we
were rising from the table Mother said, "Sue, show Dr.
Cleveland the sweet briar by the school room."
We went down the walk to the frame where it grew
and I pointed it out to him. Now this happened to be
the very tangle of vines into which I threw my algebra,
on that memorable day when Miss Damer made me
pick it up. The vines are all thorns and they scratched
me  dreadfully.   Dr.  Cleveland inspected the vine,
I75 
Through Some Eventful Years
pinched a leaf, smelled it, sniffing loudly and then he
said, "This is the true Eglantine."
"Mother told you it was," I replied.
He took from his pocket a small sketch-book and
pencil and proceeded to make a picture of it, not a
finished drawing but just a sketch. He replaced the
book and pencil in his pocket and, trying to speak very
pleasantly, he said: "When I get to my drawing materials I shall make and send you a pretty picture of this
Eglantine, it is very rare."
"Do not trouble to do that, please, I have no pleasant
associations with that thorny tangle,," I answered, and
we returned to the house.
The mail had arrived in our absence and the family
were gathered around the library table; aunt Robinson
handed me a letter from Brother Junius, saying as she
did so, "Here is another birthday gift for you."
Dr. Cleveland, who was apologizing awkwardly to
Mother for contradicting her so flatly as to the sweet
briar, turned to Father and asked, "Her birthday, is it,
how old?" "Sixteen," said Father. "Indeed-" went
on the talkative man of science, "I should never have
imagined it-there is none of the'beaute du diable,'
which we naturally associate with that age." "No,"
said Father, "and I am glad of it, I do not want my
baby to grow up too fast."
Then the whole crowd proceeded to discuss me as
calmly as if I had been one of my own dolls. It was embarrassing but I founid out what they thought of me.
Among other things, I learned that I was bluntly truthful and would have to learn that Madam de Genlis'
"Palace of Truth" was not practical and a white lie
could sometimes be used to advantage. Mother's constant teaching of the Ten Commandments will, I think,
make even white lies difficult for me, though I do try
to be polite.
I had some pretty presents even if it is war times,
I76 
War and Sorrow
and I got a nice letter from Brother Junius, written
two days ago so I would get it today. Brother Amos
is here and Sister Mag is happy, we are too, for all love
our jolly soldier boy, he has been at home for ten days
and he has only two weeks furlough. It will be hard
for Sister Mag to let him go.
There is something I have never told you, my Diary;
ever since'that day in August of last year, when we
went to the depot to see the Howell Guards off to Virginia, Sister Mag has never failed to lock herself in
her room for awhile every day to pray for her husband.'
I did not know just at first what she was doing, but I
heard her tell him she never let a day pass without
asking God to take care of him and he might know,
wherever he might be, that her thoughts and her
prayers were following him.
I felt real mean to have overheard this, for it was
never intended for my ears, but I had sung Eddie to
sleep and was holding him in my arms in the dark,
waiting for Nellie to come for him, and they were
talking on the porch just outside.
March I3th, I862.-Brother Amos left this morning and our hearts ache for both of them. The women
of the South have much to bear. Father takes me with
him every other day to search for certain medicinal
plants and roots, from which supplies for hospital use
can be made. Medicines of all kinds are scarce in the
Confederacy. Occasionally a vessel will run the blockade but not often; the Yankees have succeeded in making us very uncomfortable, to say the least of it.
Last week we sent to the hospital in Richmond a
case of iron tonic for convalescents. We are now making a decoction of Boneset for chills and fever; this having been tried at home with good results was considered
good enough for our dear soldiers. We make a salve
too, from the leaves of what the negroes call "Jimson
Weed." It is healing and soothing and the small quan
I77 
Through Some Eventful Years
tity of spirits of turpentine, we add to it, makes it more
effective. Another salve is made from the root of the
elder, grated and stewed in lard. With this salve goes
a decoction of elder flowers, these used in conjunction
are a preventive of gangrene and will sometimes cure
it. Oh, if our poor soldiers could only have half the
medicines they need; it is so hard to see them suffer for
simple things that all the world besides can have. I
think this blockade is devilish.
March  I sth, I862.-Sister Mag has a daughter,
born this morning. Poor little girl. She will, in all
probability, never see her father's face. I do not believe the war is going to end in even ninety days. Sister Mag is very ill tonight and I have Eddie upstairs
with me, that he may not disturb his mother. He is
as sweet and good as can be. When I told him about
his baby sister he said, "Don't bring her upstairs, let
her be Aunt Pat's baby, I is yours." I certainly love him.
March  I6th, I862.-The  entire family wrote to
Brother Amos this morning, he will surely find out he
has a young daughter. As scarce as paper is Eddie had
to have a whole sheet to write his letter on. He looked
so in earnest that I asked what he was writing? He
said, "I is sayin', Father come home and wear de beautiful cloes." He admires the gray and gold as much
as the rest of us do.
March 23rd, I862.-This is Eddie's birthday, Adeline made him a cake, (no white sugar to ice it) and by
great good luck I found in my doll things, which have
been packed away, two toy candles which delighted his
heart.
Though the weather is still cold in Virginia the army
seems to be on the move and I am afraid we will hear
of more battles soon. If I, who have only brothers and
cousins in the army, dread this so, what must it be to
the poor wives and mothers and fathers?  Uncle Rich
I78 
WFar and Sorrow
ard has never been the same since Cousin Rich was
killed.
April 5th, I862.-Sewing societies were organized
long ago and every neighborhood has one. Ours meets
first at one house and then at another, and all of us
sew steadily all day long. Mother cuts many of the
garments and Mrs. Manning helps her, that is, when
they meet with us.
Peter and Mac make packing cases and it is as tonishing how many garments go forward from the
Bradford neighborhood.
I did not know much about sewing at first; at the be ginning I made Charley Hopkins two flannel shirts but
I am ashamed to say Lulu did most of the sewing. Now
I can take any kind of a garment and make it entire,
even the buttonholes, though Sister Mag says my but ton holes "gape." I mean to improve on them. I have
to do my book-keeping early in the morning and sometimes I have to work at night to finish up the day's
work. Since we have been sewing so steadily I have
given up my horseback rides. Father does not approve
of that. I take a good deal of exercise in other ways,
however, and I feel well and strong.
May Ist, I862.-Father has engaged a book-keeper
to come next week. He says it keeps me too close. This
man is an Englishman with a wife, a small son and a
brother-in-law; a strong, healthy man, who looks as if
he ought to be in the army but he says being an Englishman he is not subject to military duty. Uncle Henry
got his arm cut off just above the elbow, in the shingle
mill and this young man is to take his place. They live
in the house formerly occupied by the sawyer, Mr.
Wheeler.
Father is so terribly afraid we will develop consumption because our grandmother Bradford died of it. That
is why he requires us to spend so much time in out-door
exercise. I am a little sorry to give up the book-keeping
I79 
Through Some Eventful Years
for I felt that I was helping, but there is a plenty to
do in other ways. Fighting is going on all along the line
but the telegraph wires have been cut and no certain
news comes to us.
May  5th, I 862.-We  are continually hearing rumors of a fierce battle at Williamsburg but we do not
know on what these rumors are based; we have no telegraphic communication and for weeks the mails have
been so irregular as to amount to no news at all. No
letters; no passing; just no news at all that can be relied
on. We can only hope and pray.
May ioth, I862.-There are rumors that McClellan has been removed from Richmond and McDowell
appointed instead. With this new commander we may
expect more fighting. "A new broom sweeps clean,"
they say. Sister Mag has made up her mind to go to
the front where she can be at hand if Brother Amos
should be wounded. This dreadful waiting, waiting,
has almost broken her heart. In June she will take her
children, Eddie and the baby girl, whom her father has
never seen, and go to Richmond. Sister Mart will accompany her and, of course, there are nurses for both
babies. The whole neighborhood is interested and is
busy embroidering pretty things for the children. No
other trimming to be had in this blockaded country.
But that is the least of all the inconveniences.
The book-keeper is getting on quite well with the
work and Mrs. Ansell is a really cultivated woman,
she comes to every meeting of the Sewing Society and
seems as patriotic as the rest. Her little son sticks to
me like a burr.
May i 6th,'  1862.-There is light skirmishing around
Richmond, so say last night's papers; somebody is killed
in these skirmishes -God help the South. A letter from
Grandpa insists that Sister Mag and Sister Mart stop
with him at Enfield; trains to and from Richmond pass
his home every day and night and daily news from the
I80 
War and Sorrow
front comes from reliable people. If Brother Amos
should be wounded she could get to him right away.
Then, too, it is almost impossible to procure accommodations in Richmond, it is so crowded at present with
the divisions of the army, changing from point to point.
Sister Mag wrote at once accepting his invitation; it
hurts me so to think I cannot see my darling Grandpa;
he cannot come to Florida, while this war is going on.
May 27th, 1862.-They have gone. It is bad enough
to give up the sisters but it is even worse to let the
children go. Mother says I love them too well. But
she loves them as well as I do if the truth was known.
rhe girls have promised to write us every day, that is,
if the writing paper holds out; nearly everything is
scarce and hard to get. At last I am growing taller,
and pretty soon my dresses will all be too short. Mother
is having a piece of checked homespun woven and she
is going to make me some dresses for next winter from
that; the dresses she made me last fall for the trip to
Raleigh are getting too small as well as too short. A
growing girl in these days doesn't stand a ghost of a
chance.
June 2nd, I862.-The wires are in working order
and they bring us news of two big battles near Richmond, Seven Pines on the 3 I st of May and Fair Oaks
on June Ist. The list of "killed, wounded and missing"
will come later. Mother is not well today, we are
afraid she has some fever.
June IIth, I862.-A letter from Sister Mag; the
trip was a safe one and much pleasanter than she had
anticipated; Grandpa and Grandma well and glad to
see them; Eddie loved Grandpa right away and wants
to follow him everywhere he goes. Now for the best
part; Brother Amos is safe and sound. I had a letter
from Cousin Joe in the same mail. He was almost
broken-hearted when Cousin Sallie would not let him
volunteer at the first when his schoolmates did, but
I8I 
Through Some Eventful Years
Cousin Sallie told him he was all she had in the world,
his father was dead; he did not have to go until he was
eighteen and she wanted him to go to Chapel Hill,
study as hard as he cound until the week before his
eighteenth birthday and then come home and join the
army. He did not want to do this but he has always
been a most devoted son and he yielded his wishes to
hers. He is coming back now to join Colonel Scott's
Battalion and he is happy.
June I2th, I862.-We  have good news from the
army of Northern Virginia; General Robert Lee has
been appointed Commander in Chief.  President Davis
says there is not a more able officer in the Confederacy.
I finished my hundredth pair of socks today, usually
I knit at night. We do not need a light to knit, but I
wanted to finish this pair to complete the hundredth.
I am learning to spin  The next pair I knit will be yarn
of my own manufacture. Aunt Robinson, who taught
me to knit, has completed three hundred pairs of socks
and some stockings for herself.  I do not believe I
would ever have the patience to knit such' long legs.
I am going boating this evening with Cousin Florence and Jewel Holland and Hatt;e. McBride is a
pretty lake.
June 20th, I862.-The tannery, under Mr. James,
is a complete success. Father sent to Gadsden County
for a shoemaker, and three of the black boys are working under him, learning the trade; he has three sons and
they are motherless. John, the eldest, is fourteen years
old, but is very small for his age; David is twelve and
Nathan is nine; they have never been to school in their
lives and Father wants me to teach them two hours
every morning. I have taught Frances right along,
since Grandpa gave her to me but I do not know if I
can "instill knowledge," as Dr. Cleveland says, into
such unpromising specimens. However, I will try.
June 27th, I 862.-Brother Amos has been to Enfield
I82 
W7ar and Sorrow
to see Sister NMag and the children, though he could
only stay twenty-four hours. He thinks his daughter
is the prettiest baby he ever saw and Eddie wants to
go back to camp with him.
Sister Mag says the wounded men are passing
through Enfield every day. As soon as they are well
enough to leave the hospital they are sent home or to
some nearby place to be nursed back to health and other
wounded men take their places in the hospitals. This
is necessary for the fighting is almost continuous.
July Ist, I862. Mother would like to omit the 4th
of July festivities, but Father says the black folks must
not be defrauded of their rights, so the preparations
for the barbecue go on as usual. I cannot see that the
war has made them a bit different unless it has made
them more particular to do their work well. I believe
we can trust our servants for if they had any unkind
feelings they would certainly show it now.  I am afraid
my new pupils will not learn as rapidly as Frances.  I
am trying to teach them to read and write at the same
time as she was taught.  John tried a while on his slate
and then he said, "I could do better if I had a pinter."
I thought he meant if I pointed out the letters to him
but when that was tried he explained what he wanted.
"I ain't a wantin' nobody to pint places fur me, I wants
a pin-pinter lak doctor is got." He had seen Father
take his gold pen from his pocket to write with and it
looked good to John's eyes. Nathan draws frogs over
his slate and David will not look at either book or slate,
but my copy-book says "Patience and perseverance accomplish all things."
Three days of each week are devoted to sewing for
the soldiers. Often we sew steadily for days at a time,
that is when we are getting up a special box to be sent
by some soldier, who has been on a visit home and is
returning to camp. Cousin Henry Bradford will take
the box we are making ready now, he is a Major and
I83 
Through Some Eventful Years
certainly looks handsome in his beautiful uniform, just
a single star on his collar and chevrons on his sleeves.
When we were at Old Point Comfort in I857, I
thought the blue uniforms with the gold epaulets were
splendid; I wonder now how I ever liked them. Brother
Junius is in camp near Tallahassee, at a place called Sixmile Pond. The sth Regiment came up from Palatka
last night. They have been drilling since last August
and lately they have been guarding the St. Johns river;
now they are to go to Virginia very soon. Captain
Bernard has brought his family to the neighborhood
to stay with Uncle Tom while he is away; Cousin Tom's
family have been there for some time. Uncle Tom is
the only man left on the place; his hair is as white as
snow, his three sons and Captain Bernard are all in the
army; that is the way all over the length and breadth
of the land. We who live on plantations have the advantage of our city friends, for we have so many negroes
around us to help in all ways and to raise provisions,
both for the home and for the army.  We are entirely
cut off from the rest of the world and if these things
could not be raised we would be obliged to starve. So
much for the blockade.
July 3rd, I862.-We went yesterday to see the
soldiers in camp. Brother Junius is as brown as a berry. I did not know blondes ever burned brown. I
thought they only turned red. His uniform is extremely
becoming. He did not get it until after he reached
Palatka, so we had not seen him in it before.
There are two regiments beside the 5th and their
tents make quite a show. We saw them drill, they looked
fine, but the hot July sun must make them very uncomfortable. Mother took a large hamper of good
things to eat and I heard her tell Brother Junius to
share with the men who were far from their own people, said she would bring or send a similar hamper every
dav.
I84 
War  and Sorrow
Mattie was delighted to see her father and she cried
when Mother said it was time to go home. She said,
"Mother, can't we take papa, too?" The seven days
battles around Richmond have filled the hospitals to
overflowing; nearly every home is in mourning and the
sound of "Rachel, for her children weeping," is heard
on every hand. We have so many dear ones in the
army of Northern Virginia, and so far, we have not lost
a single one. Father in Heaven we thank Thee. Mr.
Blake preaches such beautiful, comforting sermons. I
mark his text each Sunday and try to remember all he
says. I told Mother, one Sunday when she was sick and
could not attend church, what he had said in his sermon and she suggested that I get a blank book and write
all I could remember of all his sermons. Next time we
go to town I will get a book from Mr. McDougal.
July 5th, I862.-Brother Junius spent the day with
us yesterday. He gave us such an entertaining account
of the winter on the St. Johns. He likes army life better than he expected. He says he never was fond of
hunting and when he has to really go "Man-hunting"
he will not like it at all.
He thinks they will break camp about the middle of
August.
*        *        *        *        *
The Diary leaves these new and untried Florida regiments in camp on Six-mile Pond and on the eve of departure for Virginia.
Around Richmond the fighting had been raging for
more than a month and now, the Capital having been
saved for the time being, our generals were giving the
enemy a taste of invasion, or at least a threat of it.
The 5th Florida reached Virginia just in time to participate in the second Battle of Manassas, which was
fought on the 28th to 3oth of August.
Fresh troops marched into the thickest of the fight
-the dead and dying on every side-with orders to
i85 
Through Some Eventful Years
advance steadily in the face of the enemy's guns. They
obeyed orders-they had come to fight and nobly they
did their part. Many a good man bit the dust that day;
many an orphan and many a widow were left behind.
The 5th Florida received its "baptism of blood" that
day and we at home, were proud indeed. September,
hot and murky came in. Both sides were burying their
dead; that done they were on the march again. On
the I7th of September the battle of Sharpsburg, as we
Southerners call it, was fought. It was a bloody field
and when the news of the day was wired to waiting
men and women, it carried bad news to Mrs. White head at Enfield. Among the wounded she found the
names of her husband, four cousins and two brothers in-law. Immediately she boarded the train for the
front to find her husband.   Her sister accompanied
her and with the help of the nurses, managed to keep
the babies alive, but Mrs. Whitehead, herself, had no
thought for anything but her wounded soldier.
Going straight to headquarters, she obtained a pass
which would take her into all the hospitals in the city.
To one and then to another she went, until all had been
visited but she could not find him; at last she met one
of his comrades, whose bandaged head and arm showed
what he had been through. He told her where to find
Captain Whitehead and his brother. They had found a
room in the rear of the Richmond Hotel in which mattresses were laid all over the floor; mattresses of the
rudest construction, and the room was full of wounded
men, some of whom had received attention from a
surgeon, while others had not been attended to at all.
She said it was like going into a butcher shop, or rather
to the shambles.
John, Captain Whitehead's faithful servant, who had
followed him day by day since the beginning of the war,
was with him; it was John who had procured this room
and offered it to his master's friends. She sent John
I85 
War and Sorrow
to find a surgeon and he had the good luck to find one,
who had just come in on the train, to offer his services.
Captain Whitehead was shot in the foot and the
minie ball had torn the foot almost to pieces and then
imbedded itself in the ankle; an exceedingly painful
wound.
Two days later Mrs. Whitehead was on her way to
Florida with five wounded soldiers to care for. Money
can do something, even in war times and she had succeeded in making them as comfortable as their condition would allow. Her sister and the nurses were still
caring for the babies; their mother had not given them
a thought.
Throughout the ensuing eight weeks a scorching
fever seemed about to lap up the life of Captain Whitehead, but the doctor finally located the ball and, when it
was extracted, his recovery was rapid, though he was
never able to walk on the foot without a crutch or a
stout stick. We told Mrs. Whitehead she was a heroine,
but she said no she was only a half-crazed wife. Not
all were so fortunate as she, the demand for black
dresses, for crape, for mourning veils, stripped the
Confederacy of these emblems of mourning and, after
that, you could not tell, when you saw a bright dress,
how much of bitter sorrow was hidden beneath it.
At Enfield, Governor Branch was mourning the death
of his nephew, almost his son he was, General Larry
O'Bryan Branch, who was killed in this same Battle of
Sharpsburg, at the head of his column of North Carolinians. A brave man, in the prime of life; he had given
his life for his country. News of his death had not
been received and Governor Branch was waiting at the
station, hoping to hear from him, when he saw approaching a train heavily draped in black. "Who is
dead?" he asked, and when he was told he bowed his
head in grief; he was eighty years of age, his head was
as white as snow, yet in other ways time had touched
187 
Through Some Eventful Years
him lightly.  Now his heart was broken; he was never
the same and in less than four months he had left all
wars and rumors of wars forevermore.
As the winter drew near it was thought the army
would go into winter quarters but the season was mild
and heavy fighting continued, winding up the campaign
of I862 at Fredericksburg, one of the fiercest and
bloodiest battles of the war.
In Florida, the entire household at Pine Hill were
engaged, heart and soul in trying to help Captain Whitehead to escape the death, which then seemed inevitable.
By the 6th of December he was well enough to be
propped up in a carriage and driven forty miles to a reunion of the Whitehead family, held at the house of the
oldest of the brothers. This reunion took the form of a
house party, given in gratitude and thanksgiving for
the lives spared, even though the bullets had not missed
their mark.
Again we yield the pen to the writer of the Diary:
*      *       *       *      *
December Ist, I862.-It seems strange to think of
fun and gaiety again, when we have been through so
much of grief and horror. So much nursing, too, watching through sleepless nights, trying to soothe through
the days of wild delirium, making one cooling poultice
after another and wondering all the while if anything
would ever help the poor sufferer.
December 4th, I 862.-Now, that the bullet has been
extracted, Brother Amos is improving rapidly and he
tells us many interesting things as he lies there so helpless. Last night his thoughts turned to the battle of
Seven Pines; it seems that he, with a party of his
company, was detailed to help to bury the dead. Some
of those he found were acquaintances and two were
kinsmen but the deepest interest with him centered in
two young strangers, who were found clasped in each
others arms. One wore the blue uniform and the other
i88 
War and Sorrow
was a lieutenant in a Maryland regiment and wore
the gray. They were of the same size and figure and
when he looked into the poor dead faces they were
exactly alike. He was so sure they must be brothers
that he examined the papers in the pockets of each, and,
sure enough, they must have been brothers-maybe
twin brothers, as the last name was the same. In each
boy's pocket were letters from the same place in Maryland and though these letters were simply signed
"Mother," the writing was identical. They looked to be
boys of twenty or perhaps less. He buried them still
in that close embrace. The pine tree, beneath which
they were found was carefully marked; some cannon
balls were picked up and piled above them and when
brother Amos returned to camp he wrote to that mother
and told her all this.
I wonder why they were on opposite sides in this
gigantic struggle. Will the poor, bereaved mother
send and take them home or will they sleep on, under
the Virginia pines? Brother Amos says he sent the
contents of each boy's pockets to the mother in Maryland. How her poor heart must ache.
Now brother Amos is able to sit up and can even
stand with his crutches and we are going to a house
party, at the home of his oldest brother. Mr. John
Whitehead is too old for army duty and he is also too
fat for a soldier. Three of his four brothers have been
wounded and are convalescent and he is having a family
reunion. Sister Mart and I are going, too, for the
Whitehead girls are dear friends of ours. Mother has
made me some pretty clothes and it would make a funny
picture if I could portray the great amount of turning
and fixing she had to do to get me "something out of
nothing," she sayg. We Southerners are copying Burns'
heroine, who "Gars auld dcloes look amaist as weel's
the new." I really believe I forgot my Scotch just there
and should have written "noo." I wish I could take
i89 
Through Some Eventful Years
my black mammy with me, it is bad getting on without
her but she always has a baby.
December 6th, I862.-We have been here three
days; there are nine girls in the party and twelve gentlemen, young ones I mean; then there are two married
couples with little children and our host and hostess,
who are just lovely to us all. We have music and dancing at night, go riding whenever we feel like it and there
is a nice boat on the Flint River which is very near the
house. Albany is not far, if we want to shop-but
there it is again-we have plenty of money but the
stores are almost empty. When we went in yesterday,
all we could find to buy was some delicious molasses
candy. There is a cotton factory somewhere near here
where they are making cloth for the army. I am going
to see how they make it.
December I5th, I862.-We have news of a great
battle in Virginia, Fredericksburg, a terrible battle in
which our side won the victory and the enemy suffered
severe losses. How I wish the war would end; it throws
a cloud over everything.
All the gentlemen visiting here have been wounded
but all are getting well; they expect to report for duty
very soon. Brother Amos is the only one who is permanently disabled. He says he is going to offer his
services to the Commissary Department as soon as he
is able. He says a cripple can do what is required there,
just as well as anybody. Sister Mag says he shall never
leave her again. Father and Mother are missing us
but in another week we will be at home.
December 20th, I862.-Last night we sat up all
night, getting Harry ready to get off this morning,
early, for Virginia. His sister and nieces were packing
clothes, putting up provisions for him to take back to
camp with him and I was finishing the last pair of socks
I had on hand, that makes six pair I have knit for him.
He wanted me to kiss him goodbye but Mother does
190 
War and Sorrow
not approve of caresses. All my playmates, with a few
exceptions, have been boys and Mother's rule is "hands
off.'-' I am not allowed to waltz with any but cousins
and she does not exactly like that.
Captain Mac Whitehead and Major Whitehead go
tomorrow. Other people are coming but these soldiers
who are going, are so near and dear and these new-comers are only just "company." It makes a great differ
ence.
December 25th, I862.-We reached home on the
24th but it is not like Christmas. Nlo frolicking for
anybody as Cousin Martha died yesterday morning and
will be buried here tomorrow. Everybody loved her
and grieves that she has gone.
Aunt Sue is in trouble, for little Mary Eliza is sick
unto death and Father and Mother are with her today.
She has typhoid pneumonia and she has always been
delicate.  Father has seven sick soldiers but none of
them in danger at present, although he thought two of
them would surely die the first part of the week. He
has been fortunate so far, for he has not lost a single
patient.
Brother Amos stood the trip very well and can handle his crutches better than at first. He can walk about
in the house but has to have help to go down the steps.
There are so many poor crippled soldiers. Oh, if this
terrible war was over!
December 27th, i862.-Mother has a letter in the
mail, which has just come telling of dear Grandpa's illness. He went out on the ice to direct the man who
was using the ice plow and took a violent cold. We
feel very anxious. Mary Eliza is no better.
The papers say the armies have gone into winter
quarters and we will have no more fighting until spring.
January 3rd, I863.-My dear, dear Grandpa is
dead. I loved him so well and now I will never see him
again. Mother was all ready to start to North Caroli
I9I 
Through Some Eventful Years
na today but a telegram came telling the sad news.
Mary Eliza died in the night and she will be buried
here tomorrow. There is trouble and sorrow on every
side. It proved to be whooping cough poor little Mary
Eliza had and Mattie and I have taken it. I thought
it was a baby disease but it seems grown people can
have it.
Our men in camp are suffering for blankets. Mother
has sent all of hers and she has several of the women on
the place at work washing and carding wool, to make
comforts to take the place of the covering she has sent
to the army. She has already sent all the linen sheets
to the Reid Hospital in Richmond; not as sheets but
rolled in bandages for dressing wounds. We have
used most of the table cloths to scrape lint, for this
blockade cuts us off from any supplies for the sick or
the wounded.
Father has taught Nan to make salve and we ship
it every week. She keeps the pot of salve going all the
time for our poor soldiers. They need so much and
we can do so little.
January 8th, I863.-Cousin  Sam  Donelson came
last night. I have not seen him since the summer of
I859 and I would never have known him. Instead of
a slender, pale boy, he is a splendid looking man. He
is on Uncle Daniel's staff, with the rank of Lieutenant.
Aunt Margaret left her home at the beginning of
hostilities in the West. She had the farm wagons
packed with belongings of the negroes and they walked
behind and drove a herd of fine cattle uncle Daniel had
raised. Old Aunt Purdy rode one saddle horse and
Grace another and so on, until all the numerous riding
nags were safely on the road and all the old and feeble
negroes had a means of transportation. It is a wonder
they got away but she managed to locate them in middle Georgia, where they are still waiting for the war to
be over.
I92 
War and Sorrowu
Cousin Sam is young and daring, he is having a good
time in the main and he doesn't care how long it lasts.
He says Uncle Daniel has grown thin; they are pleased,
as, indeed, we all are, at his promotion to be a MajorGeneral. I am sure he deserves it. I love him dearly.
He was so good to me when Father was so ill at his
home in Tennessee.
March  I2th, I863.-More  bad news  to write in
my diary. Sweet little Susie died before day this morning. She was so pretty. Except cousin Rich, she was
the best looking one of the family. She loved him devotedly and ever since he was killed she seemed to be
thinking of him all the time. When she was dying she
asked to be buried beside him. Our "God's Acre," is
filling fast. Aunt Nancy is so frail we fear she cannot
stand this fresh blow.
March 20th, I863.-Mattie and I have the whooping cough very bad. She cannot retain her food, though
I do not suffer in that way, it is extremely painful. When
the spells of coughing take me the blood oozes from
my eyes, nose and ears. Three doctors have been called
in and they say they never saw such a case. It is well I
am not going to school this winter for I do not believe
I could study.
Sam Donelson went back to the army of the West
today. Mother is with Aunt Nancy.
March 6th, I863.-It is hard to even think, because
I want to see Grandpa so bad. We were going to him in
the summer and now I will never see him again. Father
says I will see him in that beautiful Heaven, which he
loved to talk of but it seems so far away. Grandma
has sent me a lock of his lovely snow-white hair, but
there is no comfort in that, for it only makes me long
the more to put my arms about his neck and kiss the soft
thick hair which glistened like silver.
His will has been read and he has left Uncle Kinchen
and Aunt Amy in Mother's care for the remainder of
I93 
Through Some Eventful Years
their lives; all their children were given to Mother, so
they will not be separated from their family. Father
has sent money to pay their way down and Uncle Kinchen is such a good traveler, they will get on all right.
Grandpa was buried in the cemetery at Enfield. He
had stated in his will that he must be brought to Florida
and buried beside Grandmother in our "God's Acre,"
but when he was dying he told them not to try to take his
body back to Florida, the whole country is in such an
upset condition on account of the war and he did not
know what complications might arise. I wish he could
have been brought here so we could take him flowers
every day. I know what I can do, I can bear in remembrance the many talks we have had and try to be just
what he wanted me to be.
I94 
CHAPTER XV
REFUGEES FROM TENNESSEE
T the beginning of the war in the West the most
feasible route for the Union Army would be to follow the line of the Louisville and Nashville Railway.
Marching along the Gallatin Pike to Nashville, the
enemy would pass directly in front of the splendid residence which General Donelson, a short while before,
had erected on his stock farm, which had long been the
admiration of the surrounding country. At state and
county fairs he carried off many a prize and many a
blue ribbon. The undulating acres of this lovely farm
rolled back from the pike; huge elms made inviting
shade here and there, while the whole surface was covered with luscious grass. A bold stream flowed through
the place, sometimes it flowed quietly through beds of
fragrant mint then, curling and purling amdist huge
boulders, gaining volume at every turn, it dashed over
a steep declivity and here stood a mill, its high wheel
turned by the force of the waters.
Back, out of sight from the pike, the wheat fields
and corn fields told why the mill was there. This was
altogether too tempting a piece of property to be passed
over by the invaders; besides its value, it was the property of a "Rebel General, who was, even then at the
front in West Virginia." Mrs. Donelson realized this
and made hasty preparation for taking departure.
On a grain and hay farm many wagons are employed
and to these wagons the strongest and best teams were
hitched.  The negroes were directed to pack their
clothes and bedding, she and her children packed theirs
and the smoke house was emptied of provisions. Sides
of bacon, the far-famed Tennessee hams, long strings
of sausage were tied about the wagons, while tubs of
('I95) 
Through Some Eventful Years
lard sat on the floor. Provender for the teams and
the cows, which were being driven in front of the train
of wagons, carriages and riders of the blooded horses
of which the General was so proud.
The long cavalcade set forth on its uncertain journey
just thirty-six hours before the advance guard of the
Federal Army entered the city of Nashville, through
which they had been obliged to pass on the southward
way.
Pushing on as rapidly as circumstances would admit
of, they succeeded in reaching Marietta, Georgia. Here
Mrs. Donelson rented a farm, installed the travelers
and, taking with her the two youngest children, hastened to join her husband at the front. Of course, she
could not be with him; often she did not see him for
days, even weeks but she was in touch with the army.
If he should be sick or wounded she could reach him
speedily and, while she waited her strong, capable hands
found much to do for those who had not been so fortunate as to escape the enemy's bullets. Many a soldier
blessed Mrs. Donelson's motherly heart and ready
hands.
When in January, I863, Governor Branch died at
his home in the Old North State, it was found that he
had willed to his daughter, Margaret, a fine plantation
in Leon County, Florida. It proved to be a great gift,
for the Yankees were steadily advancing into Georgia
and again the Donelsons were in danger of capture.
They had learned to pack by this time and once more
they took the road.
Walnut Hill Plantation was about four miles from
Tallahassee, a neat, six-room cottage, with orange trees
and walnut trees shading the broad porches and a lake
lying at the foot of the hill on which it stood. At the
back, built on the slope of the hill, stood a large barn
with sheds for cattle, a carriage house, a large garden
enclosed by a "wattle fence" and just below, beside
I96 
Refugees from Tennessee
a stream, which flowed through the hammock of bay
and magnolia was a dairy, ready for use. It looked
like Heaven to these poor wanderers. The spring campaign had opened and the war was no nearer its end
than it had been a year ago.
In March little Susie, youngest child of Mr. and
Mrs. Richard Bradford "went home." She was a quiet,
gentle child, never strong and, after the death of her
beloved "Rich," she grew gentler and more silent until,
when the March winds blew their fiercest, she slipped
out of life. Her mother did not long survive her, when
the air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle and
jasmine, she too, entered "The Pearly Gates," to find
her loved ones.
Captain Taylor had been brought home on a stretcher, hardly alive and almost a skeleton. He had not
been wounded, but pneumonia had done the work. A
few weeks of nursing and he was ready for duty again
for the soldier of the South did not linger when his
country called.
By this time supplies of all kinds were scarce and
hard to get in the Confederate states.  Everything
which we thought could be sent to the soldiers was carefully put aside until such time as it could be forwarded.
Mrs. Bernard was packing a box to send to her husband
in General Lee's army. She had new clothes, a pair
of shoes, a hat of her own manufacture, some handkerchiefs, also homemade, a large cake, some rusks and
another very useful article, a'crock of soft soap.  This
was an unusual box, it was rare, indeed, that so many
of the necessaries of life could be gotten together. Of
the soap, Mrs. Bernard was especially proud. She had
made it herself and Captain Bernard had written her
more than once of the scarcity of a detergent of any
kind; it was this fact, that had inspired the soap-making.
The box reached camp in safety, the eatables were
thoroughly enjoyed, the clothes were more than wel
I97 
Through Some Eventful Years
come. Everything arrived in good condition except
the "butter," which was completely spoiled, had turned
a dark yellow and they "took it out and buried it, reserving the crock for other uses." Imagine how that
gqod housekeeper and loving wife felt.
There were no lights in the South except those
of home manufacture. We had candles of wax and of
tallow, candles of bayberry, tapers of twisted shucks,
standing in saucers of melted lard, "Confederate lanterns," said lanterns being loosely twisted strands of
spun cotton, dipped in crude turpentine and rolled
around a green hickory stick of suitable size. These
were placed in the open fireplaces in summer and gave
a pleasant light for ordinary purposes, though you could
not read or sew by them. In winter a blazing lightwood fire settled the question of lights.
We were now in the third year of the war and we
had learned to supply, in a measure, our wants. We
had learned to do without many luxuries, which had
formerly been looked upon as necessities and we had
accepted conditions and thanked God it was no worse.
While we were doing without nearly everything,
nearer starvation than we had ever thought to be, suffering, when sick for want of proper medicines, wearing
the rough homespun, which was all we could get, the
North set up a hue and cry because the prisoners of
war did not have the comforts of life. Southern captives in Northern prisons were not given the comforts
of life and yet there was no blockade of Northern ports,
no scarcity of the necessaries as was the case with us.
It was difficult to hold communication with friends
from one side to the other. Before letters could be
sent across the line they were subjected to a strict espionage, often they were not allowed to be delivered,
and so sometimes the prisoners had been dead for
months before we knew of it, some one would be exchanged and tell the news. The South had some friends
I98 
Refugees from Tennessee
in New York City and, through them, Southern prisoners were frequently supplied with clothing, but for these
kind hearts the men in Northern prisons, exposed to
the rigors of a climate to which they were unaccustomed,
would have died.
Murphreesboro was the scene of a stiff fight, the
army of the West, though it had met reverses, was still
ready to do battle when called upon. Never on earth
was there a braver body of men than these-the soldiers of the Southern Confederacy; the men who wore
the gray.
In Virginia there was fighting all along the line;
there was wanton destruction of property; there was
terrible loss of life and Sherman, who, afterward, declared "war is hell," was right. Sheridan, after one
of his raids across the valley of the Shenandoah, said,
"A crow flying across the valley would have to carry
his provisions with him." The non-combatants of Virginia were suffering horribly; there was certainly no
Christian charity in the army of the Potomac.
General Donelson was dead. A severe stomach
trouble attacked him and though he was faithfully and
tenderly nursed by his devoted wife, and though Dr.
Quintard was with him all the time, the medicines necessary to check the disease could not be had-the Confederacy was blockaded.   Mrs.  Donelson came to
Florida. No need to follow the army now, her heart
was broken-all was dark-for,
"The light of the whole world dies
When love is gone."
Since the beginning of the war we had suffered reverses; we had spent days of fasting, humiliation and
prayer; we had won many a splendid victory and we
bowed our heads in earnest thanksgiving for God's
mercy. At Chancellorsville we had seen
I99 
Through Some Eventful Years
"The noble oak which propped
Our cause go down"
And now we found ourselves facing the fiercest struggle
of the war.
RESUMING THE DIARY
June 3rd, I863.-I have been sick, dear Diary. I
have not been able even to think at times and I am a
fright.  The fever made my hair drop out and I am
wearing a black silk cap, which makes me look like the
picture of the Jesuits.
So much has happened since I wrote here last. I
miss Susie and Aunt Nancy and I am so sorry for Aunt
Margaret. The whole country misses Uncle Daniel
for he was such a fine officer, so splendidly equipped
to command men.
My pupils have all gone away. I did not know when
they went but the father died and the boys are scattered among their relatives.  I hope they can go to
school for they were actually learning a little.
Father says I can resume the book-keeping when I
am well again. The call for troops made it necessary for
Mr. Ansell and Mr. Edmondson, the brother-in-law,
to enlist or leave the country. Rather than return to
England they took the oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government and have joined the Gamble Artillery; that is, they expect to be in Colonel Gamble's
command. Mrs. Ansell will stay on in the house provided for the mill manager.
Dr. English has written to Father in regard to a
wounded soldier he is bringing with him from a hospital in Virginia. The doctor went on to see his nephew,
who was wounded in a skirmish near Harper's Ferry,
but when he reached the hospital his nephew had been
dead two weeks. He found there a young Virginian,
whose injuries were severe and painful; the surgeons in
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Refugees from Tennessee
attendance said he was shot through both lungs, the
bullet making what'they term "a clean wound," entering on one side cutting its way through and leaving the
bodv in a direct line. They think if he could get to
some quiet place, where his wound could receive close
medical treatment he might recover. Of course Father
wants him to come here.
We always keep Charley when the doctor goes and
he is with us now. He is like a little brother to me and
Father and Mother are more like parents to him than
his own father. The doctor is a scientific man, not an
M. D., but a Ph.D., and a long list of other letters,
which mean so much to him. He is so wrapped up in
his researches that he does not find his own young son
very interesting. Charley is happy here, however, and
we love the poor motherless boy.
June i oth, 1 8 63.-Dr. English came today and with
him Captain John Yates Beall, the soldier he had written about. Captain Beall is young and very good-looking. He has the front room up stairs, where he can be
cool and we have our orders to make no noise. He
must not talk and he has to take nourishment every
three hours. Father dressed his wound and left him to
sleep a while. I hope I do not forget and make a
noise.
Sister Mag, with her family, and Sister Mart have
gone to Bath, where Brother Amos has a furnished
house, left to him in his father's will.  It is large and
pleasantly located, built expressly for the summer-time
and cool and airy. Brother Amos has never recovered
from his wound and the doctors, who have examined
him, say he will never be fit for service again, but he
says he is going back, just as soon as he feels well again.
That is the spirit which animates all our soldiers.
Mother keeps surprisingly well. We are so glad
of it for it is impossible to leave home in search of
health in these busy days.
20I 
Through Some Eventful Years
June 12th, I863.-Our patient, the newest one, likes
his quarters very much. Father and Mother wait on
him themselves, they are so afraid something may go
wrong. The piano is kept closed and Mattie's poodle
has been banished pro tern.
June I7th, I863.-Vague and contradictory rumors
fill the air; we seem to be upon the brink of a change
some way. The army of Northern Virginia is on the
move and we can only pray and work, for it grows more
difficult with every passing day to provide the barest
necessities for our brave boys at the front. Never did
men fight under greater disadvantages. The armies
must be supplied even if the home-folks starve. We do
not let them know how we have to stint ourselves. They
must not have our burdens to bear in addition to their
own.
June 28th, I863.  The army of Northern Virginia
is pushing on to the invasion of the North. In this
land of ours a curious species of fault-finders has developed. While the men, the true men, are at the front,
struggling with might and main to save the South from
destruction, there are others, poor weak-kneed cowards, who stand on street corners and criticise President Davis and the generals in command of our armies.
These cowardly back-biters have never smelled gun
powder, they are Carpet Generals and yet, to listen to
them talk, you would think that the only thing needed
to insure victory would be to put them in command. I
turn sick with scorn when I am obliged to be present
while they are exploiting their wisdom.
July 2nd, I 863. -Yesterday fighting began on Pennsylvania soil.  The army of Northern Virginia, the
bravest army in the history of wars, may, even now be
struggling with the foe. Oh, how horrible it is to
know that those you love are in such danger!  There
must be aching hearts at the North as well as here.
I feel for all who suffer and it seems to me the bond
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Refugees from Tennessee
of brotherhood, which once united the two sections,
ought to make us kinder in our judgments; more merciful in our actions. But war is a monster and destroys
charity.
July 3rd, I863.-Another telegram brings more
news from Gettysburg-such awful news-death and
destruction and perhaps defeat. God help our poor
country. Holding my breath I listen and tears come,
though I try to be calm. So many of our brave men,
who went forward can never come back. Oh, this horrible, horrible WAR!
August i8th, I863.-Tonight we had with us at
supper two of the heroes of Gettysburg; John Nash and
Nicholas Eppes.  They were recommended for promotion by their colonel, for gallantry on the battle
field of Gettysburg.  On that field, where deeds of
daring, which will live forever, were done, what did
these boys do that could be singled out? They must
have distinguished themselves for the War Department to notice and promote. I wanted to ask about
the great battle but they were leaving home as they
had, only a short hour or two ago, said goodbye to those
they loved. They were on their way to the army of
the West, even now fighting Rosecrans army.  They
were going to face death, just as they had faced it at
Gettysburg, and so, I could not ask questions which
would call up scenes of blood and agony.
When they had said goodbye and were out of sight
Aunt Robinson said, "Mrs. Bradford, isn't it a pity for
that pretty boy to be killed by the Yankees? He is
enough like Sue to be her brother."  Mother shuddered. "I am glad he isn't," she said, "I am afraid it
is not patriotic but I am glad I have no sons."
It used to be a grievance to poor mother that, as
Johnnie expressed it, "Aunt Patsey's boys were all
girls," but she seems to be taking comfort in it now.
August 20th, I863.-Captain Beall has improved
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Through Some Eventful Years
amazingly, he can now speak in, a natural voice and is
allowed to converse when he feels like it. At first his
voice was so weak and it hurt him to speak, so he made
signs for his wants. He is very pleasant, the doctors,
who come now and again to see him, say his lungs are
still in bad shape and he requires just the care and good
nursing he is getting here. Father has inserted silver
tubes in his right side to draw off the pus, which has
collected there. The right lung is not healing as the
left one has done and they forbid him to think of going
back for months to come. A winter in Florida' may
make him as sound as ever.
Today Father took him for a short ride in the buggy.
He drove Dabney, who is old and steady, so he would
not be jolted or jarred. I wish Sister Mart was at
home, she could play for him and entertain him. I
have taken up the book-keeping again but it is not quite
as heavy as it was because the saw-mill is not running.
The hands who formerly did the work at the mill are
needed in the crops that more provisions may be made.
The people who live in town and have no plantations to draw upon, have a bad time indeed. Father
often sends articles of food to his friends in Tallahassee.
Judge Baltzell said he had not tasted meat for weeks,
so Father promptly sent him a ham, smoked after the
most approved North Carolina fashion and it was
touching to see how pleased the judge was. He often
sends things to Major Beard, too, and none of us ever
forget Bishop Rutledge, when something good is on
hand. The Bishop eats like a bird, he has so little appetite, and has to be tempted to eat.
September Ist, I863. —The children have not been
well at Bath, so Brother Amos is bringing his family
home next week.  The War Department will not accept
his services, so he is going direct to his plantation on
Lake Jackson and try to make lots of syrup, sugar and
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Refugees fromn Tennessee
meat for the armies in the field; such as this is certainly
needed.
We are busy spinning, weaving, sewing and knitting,
trying to get together clothing to keep our dear soldiers
warm this winter. Brother Junius writes that he has
worn all his under garments to shreds and wants to
know if it would be possible to get some flannel, or some
kind of wool goods to make him some new ones? We
have tried but none can be had, so I am spinning some
wool into knitting yarn and with some big wooden
needles I have I am going to knit both drawers and
shirts for him. I am so impatient to get to work on
them and see if my plan is feasible, that I spend all
the time I can at the spinning wheel. I know the shirts
can be knit, for I made some for father last winter
which he found quite comfortable but I am somewhat
doubtful as to the drawers. After awhile we will learn
how to supply most of our needs.
Cousin Rob did not have a hat when he was getting
ready for school, which opens today, so I plaited palmetto and sewed'it into shape and Aunt Robinson,
who knows everything, pressed it on a block and then
I sewed a ribbon around it and there it was, a sure
enough hat and very becoming. He sat near and admired the braid all the time I was making it. I had
no shoes except some terribly rough ones that old Mr.
McDermid made and Cousin Rob tanned some squirrel
skins and made me a pair of really beautiful shoes, nice
enough to wear with my one and only silk dress. This
dress, you must know, is "made of Mammy's old one"
like Jim Crack Corn's coat-Little Diary, I am afraid
you do not know very much of Mother Goose.
September 25th, i863.-The telegraph wires are up
and working again and the news we get is both encouraging and distressing. A great victory has been won at
Chickamauga, but at such a fearful loss of life. It is
said to be as bloody a battle as Gettysburg and it lasted
2o5 
Through Some Eventful Years
three days, beginning on the nineteenth of this month.
We have such glorious news of the courage displayed
by Gen. Finley's Florida Brigade. They are in Longstreet's Corps and they formed the entering wedge,
which broke Thomas's line; they charged with the bayonet three times with dreadful loss, before Thomas
gave way. It is grand, it is heroic, but oh, those poor
boys and their wives and mothers! Sometimes I am
glad I have no real, true brothers for wouldn't I love
them just a little better than these I have?
September 29th, I863.-This is Mother's birthday
and the house is full of friends who have come to show
their love for her. She is just the daintiest little lady
in all the land and she is so gracious to everybody; it
makes no difference who it is, and I believe that is one
reason so many people love her. Father thinks she is
perfect and he does not countenance the least; disobedience to her wishes.
Some wounded men from the west came on the train
to Tallahassee yesterday, only a few, however, and
there is plenty of room in the hospital, so Dr. Geddings
did not send any out to Father; if more come he will
send them.
October 4th, I863.-I saw something awful this
morning; I wish I had not seen it. We were taking a
box of hospital supplies to the depot, to ship to Richmond and, when we turned the corner by Fisher's Green,
a group of soldiers were standing there. It was early,
the sun had been up but just a few minutes and it shone
bright on the group. I always look at soldiers, but I
am sorry I looked at these for they had two poor fellows, who had deserted and been caught and, while we
were looking, the squad fired and the deserters fell
dead. Isn't it perfectly awful? I didn't think it ought to
be done. So many are killed in battle and lives are worth
more than that. To kill them when maybe they meant
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Refugees fromn Tennessee
to come back. I am afraid I shall not sleep a wink
tonight.
October 27th, I863.-  Ve went to the salt works
today and, though I am tired and dirty and have no
good place to write, I am going to try to tell you about
it.
A year ago salt began to get scarce but the people
only had to economize in its use, but soon there was no
salt and then Father got Cousin Joe Bradford to come
down from Georgia and take charge of some salt works
he was having installed on the coast. He had plenty
of hands from the plantation but they had to have an
intelligent head and then, too, it is a rather dangerous
place to work, for the Yankee gunboats can get very
near the coast and they may try shelling the works.
Though they have been in operation quite awhile
this is my first visit. Father brought us with him and
we will stay three days, so he can see just how they are
getting on. We are to sleep in a tent, on a ticking filled
with pine straw. It will be a novel experience.
I am so interested in seeing the salt made from the
water. The great big sugar kettles are filled full of
water and fires made beneath the kettles. They are
a long time heating up and then they boil merrily. Ben
and Tup and Sam keep the fires going, for they must not
cool down the least little bit. A white foam comes at
first and then the dirtiest scum you ever saw bubbles
and dances over the surface, as the water boils away it
seems to get thicker and thicker, at last only a wet mass
of what looks like sand remains. This they spread on
smooth oaken planks to dry. In bright weather the sun
does the rest of the work of evaporation, but if the
weather is bad fires are made just outside of a long,
low shelter, where the planks are placed on blocks of
wood. The shelter keeps off the rain and the fires give
out heat enough to carry on the evaporation. The
salt finished in fair weather is much whiter and nicer
207 
Through Some Eventful Years
in every way than that dried in bad weather, but this
dark salt is used to salt meat or to pickle pork. I think
it is fine of Father to do all this. It is very troublesome
and it takes nine men to do the work, besides Cousin
Joe's time; and Father does not get any pay whatever
for the salt he makes.
We expected to have a grand time swimming and
fishing. We are both good swimmers, but Father and
Cousin Joe will not allow us to go outside of this little
cove. Yankee gun-boats have been sighted once lately
and there is no knowing when the salt works may be
attacked.
October 6th, I863.-Yesterday morning we got up
with the sun and had a bath and some clean clothes,
then came breakfast of corn hoe-cake and fried fish.
Mother wanted to pack a basket of eatables for us but
Father said we must eat camp fare, so the only thing
we brought along in that line was a jar of preserves,
for Cousin Joe, and some coffee. Breakfast was fine
and when it was over we went fishing, still inside the
cove. After dinner we went to Newport and had a
bath in the sulphur spring. There we had some delicious
October peaches, and we also saw many of our soldier
friends in Colonel Scott's battalion. I admire Colonel
Scott most sincerely, he is a Pennsylvanian by birth but
he came in early life to make his home in Tallahassee.
His home was a little way out of town and his wife and
babies were his world.  When the war began he volunteered his services to the Confederacy; it had not been
expected of him because of his Northern birth, but there
is no better friend to the South. He says it is his country. He was in the mercantile business but he has developed unusual military ability and he seems never to
tire. Last winter he took cold, being so constantly in
the marshy coast region, and rheumatism followed the
cold. He still suffers and at times he has to have assistance in mounting his horse, but he drills his men
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Refugees from Tennessee
regularly and last night one of the boys told me of the
burning of the bridge across the St. Mary's river.
The enemy were advancing. The only hope of stopping them was to burn that bridge and Colonel Scott
and his cavalry were miles away. Night was fast coming on, when the Colonel walked into camp and said,
"Boys, I want volunteers to go with me to burn St.
Mary's bridge; we may get back or we may not, I am
going." Very nearly all wanted to go but Colonel
Scott picked eight young men, almost boys, the most of
them. He was so stiff from rheumatism that they had
to put him on his horse, but "there is a spirit in man,"
and he led them off in the darkness.
Rapidly they rode; through brake and briar their
way lay, but they reached the river not one moment too
soon.  Each soldier carried, tied to his saddle, a supply
of fat pitch pine.  The tramp of the enemy's cavalry
could be heard approaching. Lighting their torches,
they had the bridge blazing merrily in the twinkling of
an eye.
By this time the Yankees were in sight and a howl
of rage went up, as they discovered the blaze. Swiftly
the gray figures disappeared into the night and, though
volley after volley followed them, not one was wounded. Five of the eight I know and am proud to claim
as friends.
Tomorrow we go home. Cousin Julia has enjoyed
it hugely  apart from the pleasure of seeing her father,
it is her first visit to the coast and everything was new
to her.  I think our Florida coast is more attractive
than the Virginia seashore, though it is rank heresy
to say so.
THE STORY CONTINUES
Perhaps it would be as well to explain to our readers
what was served at the good suppers mentioned in the
diary. Nothing which could be sent to the army was
209 
Through Some Eventful Years
eaten at home, but there was much in country homes,
which would not bear transportation, in the primitive modes of the times. So we ask that you imagine
a table, either with or without a tablecloth, usually
without; on the polished surface were dishes of broiled
or baked chickens or a roast of mutton, for that was
a meat which we could not send, except to nearby
camps; delicious batter bread, hot, with fresh butter;
vegetables, daintily prepared, maybe a sweet potato
pone, dear to the Southern palate.
On rare occasions a cake made of brown sugar, or
syrup, as the case might be; and cut glass bowls filled
with custard, also made with brown sugar and flavored,
usually, with leaves from the nearest peach-tree. Sometimes the cake was lacking and then pans of syrup bread
took its place. Baked eggs were always liked and salad
could easily be had, for we made our own vinegar in
great abundance from fruit juices. So you see when
these suppers are written of you may rest assured that
none of these eatables could have been sent to the
army, which had first place in every Southern heart.
THE DIARY RESUMED
November 2nd, I863.-Now, while Cousin Julia is
with us, I am trying to make things as pleasant as possible for her. All the boys are away in the army, so
we have what Aunt Dinah calls "hen parties." We
have been the rounds of the family to dinings; we have
had picnics, to which we have taken the children from
the various families in the neighborhood, rides on horseback, walks to look for chinquepins and hickory nuts
and now we want some evening parties. As Cousin
Julia is a minister's daughter and does not dance or
play cards, the question of amusement is a little difficult, but we will play games and next week we will set
the ball rolling with a musicale. We have several fine
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Refugees from Tennessee
musicians in the neighborhood and mother never fails
to have plenty of good things to eat.
Brother Amos and sister Mag are with us and they
are splendid help in entertaining. He is still on crutches
but is as jolly as a cricket and she is so sweet everybody
loves her.
December 4th, I863.-We had that musicale last
night and it was fine. We had an unexpected guest;
in the afternoon cousin Mary wrote a note asking if
she might bring Miss Maria Eppes.  She had come to
visit at Greenwood. Of course we were glad to have
her and when she came we were delighted; she is beau;
tiful, and has such charming ways. I have a picture
of Lieutenant Mecklenburg Polk, which he sent me
by Cousin Sam. He must: be remarkably handsome if
he looks like his picture and I have framed it in pine
cones, the kind that grow on the short leaf pines. It
makes a very pretty frame and it occupies a prominent
place on the mantel. I do not know this fine young
soldier boy, but whenever I look at the picture it seems
to recall some one whom I have known; just a fleeting
impression, which I cannot quite grasp.
Last night Maria Eppes saw it and she called out in
a rather excited tone: "Where did my brother's picture
come from?"
I told her who it was but she could hardly believe
me, and said, "It is exactly like Nick."
I knew then why the face looked familiar and I told
Maria of the night her brother took supper with us.
Then she told me of the part he took in the great battle of Chickamauga; of Finley's Brigade, of which his
regiment is a part, how they charged the enemy with
the bayonet three times before they succeeded in breaking General Thomas' line; how they yelled as they drove
the enemy down Snodgrass Hill; how terrible the fighting was; how the ground was covered with dead and
21I 
Through Some Eventful Years
dying men and of the awful groans of the wounded
horses.
They had a truce for a short time to bury their dead,
not really a decent burial, but just a trench, in which
they were laid. The battle lasted three days and covered many acres of ground, miles, it seemed to those
engaged.
Just think, exactly one month before, Lieut. Eppes
was sitting so quietly at our table, he and cousin John,
and so soon after this bloody battle came to them.
Maria said her mother had a letter that morning,
telling of the battle of Missionary Ridge and the crossing to Lookout Mountain, where another battle was
fought. Maria says her brother escaped almost by a
miracle at Missionary Ridge, as most of his comrades
were either killed or taken prisoners. We have heard
that cousin John and cousin Henry, who were in that
battle were taken prisoner and thus far we have not
heard where they were carried.
Maria is very glad her brother is safe so far, but
then you never know what you will hear next. Maria
says if I will send Lieutenant Polk's picture back, she
will give me one of her brother and I can have the original as well as the photograph, too, funny, isn't she?
I do not expect ever to see either one of them.
Cousin Julia had a nice time last night; she likes
Hattie better than any of the girls. I do not wonder
at that for she is delightful company, so witty and so
original. When I have girls staying with me Hattie
always entertains for them and then when she has company I reciprocate. It makes it pleasanter all around.
Captain Lester and my father "spoil their daughters"
the neighbors say, but it is a fine thing to do, according
to our way of thinking. It gives us a good time even
if we are spoiled. I don't think we are bad girls either,
and how we do love our indulgent fathers.
212 
CHAPTER XVI
CAPTAIN JOHN YATES BEALL
E leave the girl of the diary to her spinning and
knitting, while we tell of some happenings, which
she does not record.
The Battle of Gettysburg, which should have been a
complete victory for the Confederates, was lost by a
mistake. We do not criticise, we have no unkind words
to say; nevertheless, from that day the Confederacy,
slowly but surely, lost ground. Such a magnificent display of courage and of endurance was never before
witnessed such slaughter was sinful.
Captain Junius Taylor went into the battle with
nearly the full complement of men in his company and
he brought off from that hard fought field seven men
fit for duty. He, himself, saved the colors of his regiment (the 5th Florida Infantry) by springing forward
as the color-bearer fell dead to the ground and, catching
the flag from his dead hand, he tore it from its staff
and thrust it into his bosom.
Even our enemies admired the coolness and matchless courage with which those gray columns marched
to their death.
"Tell it as you will, it never can be told,
Sing it as you may, it never can be sung,
The story of the glory of the men who wore the gray."
Captain Beall, who had found such kind friends in
the quiet of this lovely home, had so far recovered
as to go to Tallahassee on a visit to Dr. English. His
place at Pine Hill was almost immediately filled by an
elderly man from South Carolina; a gentleman and
a scholar, whose health had completely given way under the stress of military life. Colonel Colcock was
very different from Captain Beall, needing less care,
(213) 
Through Some Eventful Years
in a way and requiring all the time of a listener, for he
was very talkative.
In the little city of Tallahassee, noted for being the
habitat of the bluest of blue blood and also the centre
of hospitality, there congregated a society of intelligence and brilliancy. The society of that day and time
resembled descriptions we have seen of the Salons of
the French. Courteous, knightly gentlemen, graceful
ladies whose "savoir vivre" proclaimed them "to the
manner born," exchanged gay badinage, sparkling wit,
or discoursed more seriously, but not less charmingly,
of more weighty matters.
In one of these handsome homes lived one of the
ladies of whom we have spoken. The wife of a wealthy
planter, who did not, however, live on his plantation.
Her house was visited by the elite of her own and other
cities. In these days of war and distress two cousins
of Mrs. Williams had taken refuge under her hospitable roof. The elder of the sisters, Miss Fannie 0'Bryan, was still in the prime of life, cultivated and attractive, she made many friends, but it is of the younger
sister we will write. Several years Miss Fannie's junior, she was also blessed with a larger share of beauty;
modest, unassuming, gentle and with a tender light in
her eyes that suggested all lovable traits, it was surely
no wonder that Captain Beall fell, a willing victim, to
the manifold attractions of Miss Martha O'Bryan.
Dr. English and Colonel Williams were the best of
friends and the day was not what a day should be,
without at least three games of chess between them
before the bed-time hour. So when the evening drew
near Captain Beall was duly presented to the Williams
family. The two old gentlemen were soon so engrossed
in the intricate game they were playing as to be lost to
all that went on around them. Mrs. Williams and
Miss Fannie were equally absorbed in the mysteries of
"heel and toe" as they knitted away on socks for the
soldiers.
214 
Captain John Yates Beall
Outside the house lay a lovely flower garden and
live oaks, which probably had witnessed the meetings
of Seminole youths and maids. All this was bathed in
the whitest, brightest moonlight on this warm September night, and the garden seemed to hold out beckoning hands to these young people. So they descended
the steps and, walking hither and thither, through the
mazy paths, breathing the fragrant air and feeling the
magic influence of that patron saint of lovers, the moon,
they quickly came to understand that to them had come
that most wonderful of miracles, "love at first sight."
The winter in Florida, which the physicians had ordered for Captain Beall, met with no farther objection
from him. Dr. English and Colonel Williams lived
on the same street, only two blocks between and these
young lovers spent much time together and when at
last he was allowed to return to his command he pleaded
that they might be married before he left.  But she
must have time to get ready; girls of that period were
not so hasty as now. When he reached Richmond he
was examined by a noted physician and pronounced unfit for duty and the War Department offered him the
place of Secret Agent to England for the Confederacy.
His parents were English and he had many relatives
in that country, it was a most suitable appointment.
He wrote to his "lady faire," begging her to accompany
him on his mission. He used every argument to persuade but she had brothers in the Confederate army
and she could not bear to leave them, when any day she
might hear they were killed or wounded. It was a
bitter disappointment to him but he declined the offer
made him and entered the secret service of General
Lee's army. Perhaps we may as well tell all of this sad
story, here and now.
The winter of I863-'4 wore slowly away and Miss
O'Bryan heard infrequently from her lover, as his position made any correspondence hazardous. As the
2'I 5 
Through Some Eventful Years
spring came on, the terrible news reached her that he
was in a northern prison, sentenced to be executed as a
spy. Letters came from him, heartbroken and filled
with love and despair.
John Wilkes Booth was a friend and class-mate of
John Yates Beall and he thought he could exert some
influence with President Lincoln. He went to him at
the White House and recited the facts; of the case. He
pleaded for mercy. President Lincoln listened attentively, he was evidently moved. When Booth concluded, Mr. Lincoln gave his solemn promise, pledged
his sacred word that Beall should not be hung. Booth
was satisfied for he believed he had the promise of an
honest man.
When Booth heard his beloved friend had been hung
he fainted away and this fainting fit was followed by
brain fever.  When that had run its course and poor
Booth could move around again, he bought him a pistol
and all the world knows what happened to Abraham
Lincoln.
On the morning of the i5th of April, I865, the New
York papers came out in deep mourning and in flaring
headlines, telling the people the South had murdered
Lincoln. To this day he is looked upon as a martyr
and yet the truth remains that he died because he did
not keep his sacred word.
For days Martha O'Bryan prayed to die but death
does not come when it is wanted and she lived to be
eighty years old and all through those long, long years
she never ceased to mourn that she did not go to England with John Yates Beall.
We have digressed to give these facts; no history
records them. President Lincoln was a kindly man but
a weak one; no doubt he intended to keep the promise
he had given but Seward was stronger than he and on
Seward's shoulders rests the blame for the assassination of Lincoln.
2I0 
Captain John Yates Beall
We go back now to the fall of  1863, fighting had been
universal in both armies. The skirmishing around Chattanooga had culminated in the great battles of Chickamauga and Missionary Ridge. The year closed with
high hopes for the Confederacy; there were rumors of
recognition on the part of England; there were whispers of help from our friends at the North; report said
they were tired of war and that influence would be used
to bring about an early peace. Just how Heavenly that
sounded in our ears none may know.
Severe cold at the beginning of the year I 864, forced
both armies to remain inactive but soon came milder
weather and there were signs of renewed activity. Disease, caused by lack of proper food, decimated the Confederate ranks.
Virginia and Tennessee, in the days before the war,
had been among the finest agricultural communities in
the world. Blessed as to soil and climate, with slavelabor in abundance, there was, practically no limit to
the foodstuffs which these great states could produce.
The "cattle on a thousand hills," the vast number of
blooded horses, the heavy fleeced Southdowns, the fat
hogs, the well-stocked poultry yards, all these contributed to the prosperity and plenty of the land, while the
well-filled granaries gave assurance of food for man
and beast.
Now all this is different; the contending armies had
here swept back and forth for nearly four years and
these once prosperous states are almost a desolate
waste. Georgia, too, had been invaded and here, also,
the hand of the destroyer could be plainly seen.
So it came about that little Florida, with a sparse
population and poor railroad facilities began to be
looked to as the source of supply for the army of Northern Virginia and the army of the West. Every effort
had been made by the Florida planters, from the very
beginning of the war to increase food production, and
217 
Through Some Eventful Years
now they redoubled their activities along these lines.
We did not realize just what we could do until this
necessity came upon us.
In middle Florida were large plantations, formerly
devoted principally to the growing of the fleecy staple;
some cotton must be had for it was needed, but only
what was really needed was planted. Vast areas of cotton lands were planted in corn, sugar cane, rice, wheat,
sweet potatoes, etc.  The range cattle proved to be
greater in number than had been anticipated and every
train out from Tallahassee carried both meat and bread
to our hungry armies. Sugar and syrup went, too, for,
deprived of sweets, scrofula might develop.  So we
toiled and saved at every turn lest our soldiers should
suffer.
Do not imagine, however, that all was gloom and
desolation in these years of war. We have omitted the
pages of the Diary devoted to social pleasures. So far
the sad side has been presented to your view.
At the beginning of the war we felt that frolicking
of any nature would be like insults to the heroic men,
who had gone forth to fight our battles; but later on
we discovered that it was unwise to banish gaiety from
our lives. She is a wise little maiden, this Gaiety; she
knows that the bow that is bent too long loses its spring.
She knows that "a merry heart doeth good like a medicine" and we were convinced of her wisdom and so,
we welcomed this wise and frivolous damsel again to
our arms and tried from that time on to make the visits
of the soldiers to their homes a round of gaiety and
pleasure. They appreciated it and it did not seem to
them, as we had feared it would, that we were heartless.
No, we welcomed them with joy; we fed them with all
obtainable dainties; we sang, we danced, we made merry in all ways, and then when the parting came-we
wept bitter tears but we dried them as quickly as possible and went to work to make some needed article to
send to them. God bless our soldiers.
2 I 8 
Captain John Yates Beall
When we reopen the diary and turn its pages, the
curtain rises on scenes which change with kaleidoscopic
rapidity. The Battle of Olustee; death and sorrow;
wounded men and tireless nurses; and then we seem
to see the girlish diary writer bending delightedly over
party finery, and joining in the "war gaieties" of the
hour, with all the zest and enthusiasm of her years.
But so it has been since the world began; sunshine and
cloud, joy and sorrow and thus it will be till the end of
time.
AGAIN THE DIARY TAKES UP THE
CHRONICLE
February 9th, I 864.-For more than a year we have
not attended large parties nor have we given entertainments. Of course we have had our friends with
us in social intercourse and enjoyed it, too, but we were
wearing black and, while we do this, it is not suitable
that we should be seen in gay places.
We are taking off black now and there is some talk
of a great big affair at Goodwood. This has put us
to thinking of something to wear; a far more difficult
problem than that which confronted "Miss Flora McFlimsev of Madison Square."
Sister Mag is living in Georgia now, but we get letters from her nearly every day.  Last night, when
mother opened and read a letter from her, she gave me
a key and told me I could search through the big black
trunk in the attic and see if I could find anything worth
having. I had never been allowed to do this before
and it sounded so interesting I could hardly wait until
morning. As soon as breakfast was over I rushed up
stairs and what do you suppose I found? That trunk
was full of party finery sister Mag had worn when she
was a young lady. It has not been so very long either,
for she was married in I 8 5 9.
2I9 
CHAPTER XVII
THE DEPARTMENT OF SOUTH CAROLINA, GEORGIA
AND FLORIDA
HEN, in i86I, the Southern Confederacy came
into being, one of the first things done by the
Secretary of War was to divide this Southern Confederacy into departments, suited to the exigencies of the
situation.  Naturally the deepest interest, for us, was
held by the Department of South Carolina, Georgia
and Florida, that being our own immediate section.
The first commander assigned to this department
was General Trapier, of South Carolina. He made
'Tallahassee his headquarters and, it is needless to say,
added greatly to the social life of that city.  General
Trapier evidently had an eye for beauty and apparently
had selected his staff officers in accordance with.his love
of the beautiful. One couple in particular, Major and
Mrs. Edward Anderson, were the admired of all beholders; they were the cynosure of all eyes, whenever
they walked abroad. Long years after this'Major Anderson became Governor of South Carolina and, if his
picture in Munsey's Magazine, could be believed, he
was just as handsome in middle life as he had been in
youth. Everybody, who was anybody, entertained the
General and his staff. The war was new and so were
their uniforms. Direct from Paris these uniforms were,
and beautiful beyond description. We did not think
there would ever be any real fighting and "all went merry as a marriage bell."
For some unexplainable reason no general remained
long at the head of this department. To the eyes of
the uninitiated it seemed like a game of that most intricate of games, chess, where kings, queens, castles,
knights and pawns moved from place to place as the
(220) 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 22I
master mind directed, while the bishop dispensed his
blessings, "on the fly."
We  did not bother our heads very much about all
this, however, and it was "Le Roi est mort! Five le
Roi!" Several different generals had succeeded one another in the Department of South Carolina, Georgia
and Florida, when, in 1 864, General T. R. R. Cobb was
sent to us and, contrary to custom, selected our sister
town of Quincy as his headquarters.  This did not
trouble us, for by this time Tallahassee had known so
many military changes; so many bodies of troops from
all points in the South had been encamped here, that
we began to feel as if we knew everybody.
Florida, by this time, had attained a position of considerable importance in the eyes of the War  Department at Richmond. As the Confederate lines became
more and more contracted; as large areas of country,
which had formerly helped to feed the Confederate
army, were devastated by the occupancy of first one
army and then the other, it became somewhat of a problem whence the necessary supplies would come.
All eyes turned to little Florida. The Yankees sought
ways to occupy the state and the Confederates bent
every effort to keep them out. Only a few troops had
been kept in Florida but now it was evident that our
government saw a need for more. Regiments from
Georgia were sent to Lake City. Troops from Alabama waited near the Florida line. General Diickenson and his men showed great activity and there was
in the air a sense of "something doing."
The enemy had possession of Jacksonville, St. Augustine and some other places. All our ports were blockaded and it was not the fault of the watchful Yank
that a few venturesome old blockade-runners continued
to find their way up the Suwanee, or in and out among
the keys, along the Florida coast.
An enemy we had with whom we were unable to cope, 
Through Some Eventful Years
the diabolical deserter. From some of the counties, lying adjacent to the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, soldiers had been conscripted and the Confederate Government did not realize that "a man who is forced is
a man to be feared." The price they paid for this
knowledge was a terrible one. The women of this land
of deserters would go on visits to their kinsfolk and
friends in the interior. They would "spy out the land,"
prolonging their visits until some news of military movements could be gained, then back home they went to
tell what they had found out to these deserters, who
lost no time in rowing a small boat out to the blockader and proudly telling the news they had gleaned. In
this way the Yankees were kept informed as to what
Colonel Scott was planning; how many troops had
been sent in from other states; if the arsenal at Tallahassee was full or empty. This system of spying was
very effective but later on a way was found to put a
stop to it.
These men, who were so treacherous and disloyal,
belonged to a peculiar class; they were, for the most
part the descendents of criminals, who had taken refuge
in the bays and swamps of the Florida coast. Their
hand against everybody and everybody's hand against
thlem.
All laws, statutory and Divine, were defied by them;
they held human life so lightly that they did not hesitate to take the lives of others nor to risk their own.
Hidden away in the coastal forests, secure from the
hand of the law, they led lives which, in many instances,
would have shamed the very beasts, who shared with
them this wide wilderness. Born criminals, they had
no sense of honor.
"Desperate cases require desperate remedies," and
when, in the fall of I864, they would creep up in the
dead of night and apply the torch to all houses in reach,
it was plain that drastic measures must be taken to stop
222 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 223
them. The Confederate Government was more than
loth to make war on women and children but men, women and children were engaged in this cowardly warfare, where the torch was the weapon. We did not
know, when we saw double-pen log houses going up
just outside of Tallahassee, for what manner of encampment these houses were intended. We counted
nine as we rode by, each of the nine had two large rooms
with chimneys of "stick and dirt" and a passage way
between the rooms. There were doors and windows,
no glass but comfortable shutters.
The planters had been called upon to erect these
houses but no questions were asked; nor could we guess
the use to which they would be put. To add to the
mysterv several wagon loads of firewood were hauled
in and deposited in easy reach of these houses. It was
a nine-davs wonder and then came the solution.
Wagons were sent down to the god-for-saken country, of which we have told you, each house was visited.
The women were told to get their belongings together
and pack them on the wagons. If they had chickens,
pigs or cows, the men in attendance would drive them
after the wagons. Some of the women sullenly obeyed,
some raved and cursed and refused to obey and when
this happened the drivers did the packing and they
moved on.
A  body of troops accompanied the wagons, and
when each house had been emptied of contents and occupants, the torch was applied and the troops remained
until each filthy cabin was in ashes. Four counties were
traversed by "The Wagon Brigade" as it was termed.
The work was well planned and, in spite of distance
and danger, they did so well that ere midnight of that
day the nine double houses were filled and an additional
tent was pitched to accommodate the overflow.
The weather was warm and pleasant; these families
had brought with them everything they owned; the 
Through Some Eventful Years
houses were far more comfortable than those they left
behind.  It was "potato diggingtime" and the people
of the surrounding country saw to it that there was no
lack of "yams and cubas" and, besides this, meal, vegetables, milk and sometimes meat, found their way to
"The Deserters' Camp." They could not have been
more kindly treated but a guard was stationed around
the camp. This was necessary for the protection of our
own people.
Many of the women were sulky, a few were smiling
and pleasant. Some were violent, using the worst language possible to imagine and making dire threats of
what their men would do; but these threats did not
trouble us much, for while the "Wagon Brigade" was
at work these same men were not far distant, just out
of sight, and yet they made no attempt whatever to
come to the rescue.  Cowardly and treacherous, as
might be expected of the betrayers of their country.
But we are going far afield, our story deals with the
early spring of i 864. About ten o'clock, on one of the
loveliest days of spring, Dr. and Mrs. Edward Bradford walked in their flower garden, admiring the fresh
unfolding of leaf and bud. Just beyond was the front
entrance to Pine Hill and they saw, entering the gate,
five or six Confederate soldiers. Now this couple loved
nothing so well as to entertain our soldiers and, advancing to meet them, they found these men were the advance guard of Colonel Henry D. Capers' Battalion of
Artillery. Upon farther questioning they found the
battalion was near at hand.
They had camped the night before on the Thomasville and Tallahassee road and had broken camp very
early and were beginning to think of dinner. Dr. Bradford invited the battalion to dine with him and Mrs.
Bradford, like the good housekeeper she was, hurried
to make the necessary preparations. The smokehouse
doors were opened and hams, sausage, pickled pigs
224 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 225
feet and corned beef were soon on the fire. A dozen or
more cooks went to work, it was a frolic for all, both
white and black.
At the foot of the hill was the saw mill, a number of
darkies brought wide planks and others hurriedly
knocked up supports for these to rest on and in an incredibly short space of time two long tables stood in the
grove.
In the mansion, Mrs. Bradford had prepared a table,
which had a seating capacity of thirty, but this was only
a beginning. It was almost impossible to get flour in
Dixie, but "egg bread" made a good substitute. Such
piling dishes and plates of fried sweet potatoes, eggs
ad libitum, fried with ham, scrambled with butter, boiled
hard and served with crisp lettuce, green and fresh;
milk in abundance, even for that crowd and the dinner
ended with fritters and pancakes, with plenty of delicious Florida syrup.
Plenty and to spare for all and yet Mrs. Bradford
never ceased to regret that there was no time to get
chickens ready for her guests. While they waited for
dinner some of these young soldiers furnished delightful
music for her entertainment. Hearing the piano, she
turned in at the parlor door and saw one young soldier
laddie at the piano, another was tuning the guitar and
still another had taken the violin from its case and was
drawing the bow across the strings, in a manner which
proclaimed his knowledge of the instrument. Several
fine voices joined in and to say that their hostess was
pleased is to put it mildly indeed. Afterward she was
heard to say that Capers' Battalion was the first body of
troops she had ever seen where "every man was a gentlemen." Could she have paid them a higher compliment?
Colonel Capers said they were not due in Tallahassee
until the following morning, so he would camp at some
convenient location. Two hours after their departure, 
Through Some Eventful Years
Dr. Bradford had Randal bring a wagon to the yard
and in it he had him put a barrel of hams, a barrel of
meal, a barrel of Florida syrup and the spaces he had
filled with sweet potatoes. Randal was to drive along
the road to Tallahassee and, when he found Colonel Capers' Command, he was to stop and deliver the
eatables, which, he was to tell him, were for supper.
You never read a nicer note than the Colonel sent in
reply; this note is still treasured by the family.
The next morning the Battalion moved on. Very
near Tallahassee, on one of the loveliest hills in Old
Leon, shaded and sheltered by majestic magnolias, a
clear, cool spring bubbling up from the hillside, the encampment was made. No spot could have been better
suited to the purpose. To the east of the camp stretched
an open field, just the ground for the drill and the
parade.
Again we make our exit and leave the girl of the
Diary to tell what she found out concerning this fine
body of artillery-men:
February *, I864. —I did not write yesterday, nor
for three days before that and now I cannot quite remember the date. We have had a delightful visit, or
rather two delightful visits, first at Goodwood and
then at Woodstock; just the two pleasantest places
that you could imagine. I am sure no girl ever had
two sweeter aunts than Aunt Sue and Aunt Nannie;
both are charming, each in a different way.
Eliza Lane was at Goodwood with us and, when
we went home with her, I was so glad to see dear little
Sallie, who is so anxious to be "a grown-up young lady"
too.
Aunt Nannie has a beautiful bride staying with her,
Mrs. Dr. Goldthwaite, from Mobile, as well as I can
* This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are
almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures
are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare,
possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. iAt any rate
we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.
226 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 227
remember. She told us of her wedding, which took
place some ten days ago. Dr. Goldthwaite had thirtysix hours leave of absence, so there was need for haste.
There is a dearth of young men, when you get away
from a military post and she had twenty young ladies
for attendants. The groom, the minister and the bride's
father were the only men present. They left immediately after the ceremony for Tallahassee, where Dr.
Goldthwaite thought he was stationed but, much to his
disappointment, his regiment had moved on, so he left
his wife with Aunt Nannie. Everybody is just as kind
as possible and tries to make things cheerful for her
and she is as pretty and sweet as can be.
But I am not telling you of the exciting day we missed.
On our way home, opposite the Berryhill Place, to be
exact, we saw a number of soldiers, preparing to camp.
We could see that it was a battery of artillery but that
was all, we could not even go slowly by the camp, for
Father and Mother are very strict in their ideas and,
while some girls do not mind stopping to talk with any
stranger who wears the gray, we have been told not to
do it. So we went on, wondering as we went, who they
could be?
As we drove in at home, we met uncle Randal with
one wagon and little Randal with another, we thought
nothing of this, but no sooner had we entered the house
than Mother and Mattie began to tell us all we had
missed. This same battery of artillery had dined at
Pine Hill that day. 
Mother was enthusiastic in her praises of Colonel
Capers and his command and Father was so taken with
them that he had sent the wagons we met to take them
some supper. Well, we can't have everything. When
uncle Randal came home he brought just the nicest note
of thanks you ever read to Father, for his kindness to
him and his men.
February - -, I 864.-We did not hear anything more 
Through Some Eventful Years
of the Colonel and his boys yesterday but this morning we have a note from Aunt Sue with a postscript
from uncle Arvah, telling us of the arrival at Tallahassee of a battalion of artillery, which had encamped
on the Magnolia Hill to the east of town. Aunt Sue
says we must pack our prettiest clothes and come prepared to stay with her, while they are encamped so
near Goodwood. She wants us to help her entertain
them. Uncle Arvah's P. S. reads like this, "In these
days of hard fighting it is your duty to do everything
you can to add to the pleasure of these soldiers, who
are here today and gone tomorrow. Tell Mrs. Bradford and the doctor this, with my love."
Sister Mart and I are hoping Father and Mother
will realize that the path of duty lies that way. Aunt
Sue says they have a fine brass band and she is going to
have some of them over as often as they can come; won't
that be fine?-That is if, we can go.
February —, i864.-We have been at Goodwood
three days now and there is so much to write about. The
first night Aunt Sue invited all the social world of Tallahassee to meet Colonel Capers. He came, attended
by fifty or more of his men, the artillery uniform is
beautiful and it is particularly becoming to Colonel
Capers. I am sure he knows it for I notice he keeps
one end of his cape thrown back over his shoulder,
bringing the red lining next his face. He wore a vest
of fine red broadcloth, buttoned up with round balls
of silver for buttons and that added much to the beauty
of his uniform.
When I was introduced to him, he said, "I am pleased
to make your acquaintance, Miss Bradford. I have
already had the pleasure of an acquaintance with your
father and mother," and then he stood there and gave
a glowing account of that most unique dinner at Pine
Hill, and he added, "I wrote a full description to my
wife before I slept that night."
228 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 229
Lizzie Wirt pinched my arm and whispered, "Horrid creature-I hate married men."
The music was good and we were soon dancing the
Lancers.  My partner was Sergeant Clayton, young and
handsome and a graceful dancer. The couple opposite
were evidently talking about us and presently the
gentleman, who was one of the sergeant's comrades,
said, "Clayton, you and Miss Bradford are enough
alike to be brother and sister."
"Yes," answered my partner, with an apologetic look
at me, "As soon as I entered the room I noticed the
strong likeness to my sister and when I was introduced
was sure we must be related, for my name is Edward
Bradford Clayton."
Of course we claimed kin on that; Uncle Arvah says
all Southern people are kin anyway. It is just a part of
being born South of Mason and Dixon's Line. I like
the new cousin very much and he told me a great deal
of army life and of his commander, whom he loves
dearly.
February -, I864.-I have found out a good deal
about Colonel Capers and all I hear makes me admire
him the more. I will try to write this like history, my
little Diary, and you must take care of it for future
generations.
When Georgia seceded, Henry D. Capers was in
command of the Marietta Military Institute. This
was one of the best schools in the South. Many fine
men had graduated there and some of the very best
civil engineers in the Southern army had studied the
profession at Marietta.
When the wise men of our country met at Montgomery, to organize a government, Henry D. Capers
promptly offered his services, in any capacity where
he could be useful. He was accepted and was made
Chief Clerk and Disbursing Officer of the Confederate
Treasury. Here he served until the spring of I862, 
Through So me Eventful Years
when he resigned, to enter active service in the field.
The Treasury Department was loth to give him up
and resolutions were drawn up expressing their regret
at parting with one, who had proved himself so capable
and trustworthy. A fine sword was presented to him
by Secretary Memminger, bearing a suitable inscription
(the Colonel is wearing this sword now). I intend to
read that inscription some day if the fates are propitious.
The War Department made Henry D. Capers a
captain in the regular army of the Confederacy and
he joined General Magruder but for only a little while.
Captain Capers was longing for "his boys," who were
so near his heart. When he left them they all volunteered for twelve months in the Confederate Army and
became a part of the Ist Georgia Regiment. This
Regiment was about to be disbanded at Augusta, Georgia, and, with a permit from the government, Captain
Capers was on the spot, to organize the 12th Georgia
Battalion. Can we not imagine his feelings, as one by
one "his boys" were sworn in "For the war," and he
realized that they were once more in his keeping?
These boys tell many interesting things about their
Colonel and they all adore him.
This may not be exactly like history should be written but I will learn to write better as time goes on.
February, I864. Last night we had an impromptu musicale and Aunt Sue provided a delicious
supper at the close of the evening. The Colonel's boys
have something more to tell of him, whenever we meet.
Last night Edward Clayton told me of the lectures
which were given almost daily by the officers. Of
course they have no books in camp but these lectures
are an education in themselves. The boys are encouraged to ask questions and to debate on different points.
Mr. Kellar, who is a mountain boy, says the Colonel
taught him to read and write and now he is determined
230 
The Departmnent of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 23I
to get an education, when the war is over. He has a
splendid baritone voice and we keep him singing most
of the time. Mr. Seavy told me that sometimes when
the boys tried to "run wild" the officers, especially Col.
Capers, gave them talks, which were better than any
sermon he ever listened to. Mrs. Capers must be very
proud of this grand soldier of hers.
Good-bye little Diary, I have an engagement to go
to ride this afternoon and must get ready.
February -, I864.-By special invitation, we rode
over the hills to the Camp today, to see the battalion
drill. It was a dress parade and every man looked
his best. I made a new (old) acquaintance after the
drill was over. Frank Baker, the only son of Judge
Bolling Baker, of Virginia. He is just as handsome as
a picture and very pleasant. I could scarcely recall the
little boy of years ago, who thought I was too small
to notice.  I think I must have grown just a wee bit.
The camp is beautiful; it is only a short distance from
Goodwood and Aunt Sue told the boys to come over
whenever they felt like it. She also offered them books
to read, which offer was eagerly accepted. Tonight
Mrs. Howard Gamble is giving a large party and I
must stop writing and see about my dress. We cannot
vary our toilettes to any extent in these days of the
blockade.
February  -, I864.- Mrs. Gamble's party was delightful, the band gave us fine music, the camp provided
plenty of partners and there are young ladies galore
in Tallahassee. Last night one of General Cobb's staff
officers told me the Capers Battalion had been sent
to guard Tallahassee, in case of invasion. He said General Dickenson and General Miller and General Finnegan were all ordered to Lake City and several Georgia
Regiments had gone on, too. Colonel Scott, he said,
was guarding the Gulf Coast. I wonder if this can be
true? If it is he ought not to be telling it around but 
Through Somne Eventful Years
I shall not repeat it. I have not given his name to you
my little Diary, but I cannot help thinking it is a pity
for those who give parties to have punch. It certainly
loosens the tongue and I do not believe this information
would have come to me but for the big bowl of regent's
punch.
I was dancing last night with a young soldier, from
the mountains around Rome, Georgia, he was loud in
his praises of Colonel Capers. "Do you know, Miss
Bradford, I did not know how to read and write when
I was sworn in? I felt terribly ashamed when I found
how ignorant I was and the Colonel found it out and
he taught me sometimes and, when he was too busy,
some of the boys helped me and now I can read'most
anything I come across and I can write whatever I want
to say. Besides that I have learned so much just listening to him talking with the other boys. I am not
the only one who has been helped; there are twenty
of us, all about the same age and all from the Rome
country, none of us had any book-learning and he has
taught us all." Isn't that a fine thing for a man to do?
February —, I864.-Three days since Mrs. Gamble's party and I have been to ride with my new cousin
every day. He has written to his mother in Athens, and
she is so glad he has found some kinsfolk in Florida. It
seems she knew they had relatives in this state but they
were strangers to her and she had never mentioned
them to him.
I told him what Mr. Kellar said about Colonel Capers and he said, "it was all true and then some more"he seems to think Colonel Capers is the grandest man
on earth. I told him I believed the Colonel had taught
dancing and deportment along with other things, they
are so well versed in the usages of polite society.
February 2oth, I864.-Two  more Georgia  regiments passed through today en route for Lake City.
I am afraid that means a fight. God help us.
232 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 233
February —, 1864.-We have had a grand time but
now it is over. We have had rides and walks and
drives; we have had parties, picnics and serenades; we
have had a merry two weeks and now our play-mates
are gone. They looked so handsome and they held their
heads so proudly and marched away with such steady
steps.  As they went they sang, "The Girl I Left Behind Me." Poor boys —I hope and pray they may
some day come home again.
February  -, I 864.-Blind Tom is to play at the Capitol tonight. We are going to hear him for he is too
wonderful to miss. I am staying at Aunt Margaret's.
Cousin Jim will take Mart and Sue and me to town. It
is not very far and I had an invitation to go from a
captain in a gorgeous uniform. I would have liked
to go with him but Mother does not like us to go
around without a chaperon. If I was at Goodwood,
Aunt Sue would go; she is the very best aunt a girl
ever had.
February _, I864.-Blind Tom is wonderful! He
plays the Battle of Manassas and, before he begins to
play, his master tells you how Tom came to compose
this piece. His master, Colonel Bethune, is so proud
of him and Tom loves him and is so affectionate; just
like some sweet-tempered animal that you have petted.
This Battle of Manassas begins with the booming
of cannon; the rattle of musketry and above all the
clear notes of the bugle.  Faintly in the distance the
strains of Dixie float upon the air, these strains grow
louder and louder and mingle with the clashing of guns,
the tramping of horses and the sharp commands of
officers.  He intersperses the music with the names of
the different Generals, who took the most prominent
parts in the day's work. How an imbecile (for Tom is
plainly that) could ever be taught a connected descrip tion of Manassas, is certainly a miracle.
February 2Ist, I864.-Yesterday a terrible battle 
Through Some Eventful Years
was fought at Ocean Pond, or Olustee, both names are
used in the news sent to us of the fierce struggle between the Yankees and our troops. Many are dead
on both sides and our loss would have been heavier
if the Yankees had been better shots. Our soldiers are,
the most of them, wounded in the head and the ground
was fairly covered with small branches cut from the
pines above. Those same pine trees were a great item
for our men, they fought behind the trees like the Indians and like General Washington did, in his fights
with the French long ago. The dispatch said "Lieut.
Holland killed," so Mr. Robinson went down today
with a casket to bring his body home. His wife wants
him buried in Tallahassee, where she expects to make
her home with her sister. The Holland family are
grieving deeply, for he was the only son and brother,
February 22nd, I864.-A message from the Tallahassee hospital to father tells him to prepare to receive
nine wounded men from Olustee, they will be in tonight.
February 23rd, 1864.-There were ten men instead
of nine, but we were ready for them. Eight of them
are wounded in the head, the face, or in the shoulder.
One was shot in the palm of the hand, while the tenth
was shot in the foot.  One of his comrades, who is not
hurt much, laughs at him and says he knows that fellow
was standing on his head.
The one, whose hand was hurt, is just a child. He
says he cannot remember his mother. His father was
killed at Gettysburg and, when he heard of it and saw
his father's body brought back to Macon and buried,
he could stay there no longer but ran away and came
to Florida, where his uncle, whom he loved next to his
father, was keeping the Yankees away from Tallahassee. He will not be twelve years old until August and
he is small for his age, we call him High Private Watson. We do this because he expresses a great desire to
be an officer, and he will not tell his Christian name.
234 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 235
Only.two of our patients are dangerously hurt; one,
a tall man about thirty, who has a very bad wound in
his head and the other is the man whose foot is shot to
pieces. Both of these have fever. The others say their
chief ailment was hunger and now that they have had a
good breakfast they will soon be all right and ready
to take a pop at the Yankees again.
We will go in tomorrow to Lieut. Holland's funeral;
we have beautiful flowers to carry.
March isth, I864.-This is the first entry for more
than two weeks but we have been so busy and now I am
going to write something that sounds heartless. Goodwood is to open its doors to society. The first time
Aunt Sue and Uncle Arvah have entertained since dear
little Mary Eliza's death.
This party is given in honor of General T. R. R. Cobb
and his staff. He is now in command of The Division
of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida and he is an
old friend of the family as well. I felt at first as if I
could not possibly enjoy a frolic of any kind but Aunt
Sue is so dear and if she wants us we must go. Again
the question of dress comes up. To realize just how
much of vanity and love of dress one possesses it is needful to be obliged to plan and contrive as we war girls
have to do. The big trunk yielded up its treasure and
a dress of crepe lisse, very much tumbled came to light.
It has a lining of satin and a sash of the same. Lulu
is a wonder at pressing and making over and my part is
suggesting and trying on. Let me tell you a secret, little
Diary; "I have my second grown-up beau." I think I
like the boys best, in fact, I know I like the boys best.
That is because all my life I have had boy play-mates
and now, that these boys look like men and are in the
army, they still seem like comrades to me. They like
me too; whenever one gets foolish and says silly things
to me I laugh at him, and so, I do not lose my friends
as I should if they were allowed to deteriorate into
lovers. 
Through Some Eventful Years
March 21st, I864.-The party at Goodwood was a
grand success. The general and his staff were magnificently attired in new uniforms, just from Paris, via.
Zeigler's Blockade  Runner.   As  many  of Colonel
Scott's Battalion as could be spared at one time came
in from Camp Randolph. There are quite a number
of strangers in town and Captain Oliver, a wounded
officer from a Maryland Regiment who is staying at
Goodwood, was the lion of the evening.  He has a
lovely baritone voice and accompanies himself on the
guitar. He sang "Maryland, my Maryland," so feelingly that it brought tears to many eyes.
General Cobb's band played for us to dance and we
had a delightful time-as every one does when at Goodwood. I wore the crepe lisse dress and aunt Sue pinned
white hyacinths in my hair. That grown-up person said
they were perfectly lovely. The boys may not be able
to make such pretty speeches but I still like them best.
March 26th, I864.-I am so ashamed of myself.
In all the excitement we have experienced and, yes, all
this ill-timed gaiety, I forgot I had not finished the allotment of socks, which was to have been ready for the
box, which is to be forwarded to the Army of the West.
I have only three pairs ready and cousin Henry may
come for them any day. Never mind, if I can stay
awake to dance and play I can surely keep my eyes
open to knit socks for our dear soldiers. Aunt Robinson,
who is always forehanded and never "puts off for tomorrow what should be done today" has given me some
disapproving looks but I have designs on her, though
I have not told her yet. I must stop and-knit-knit
-knit.
March 3 I st,  1864.-The box has gone and my socks
were ready; that is, the requisite number went but I
had to borrow one sock from Aunt Robinson, with the
promise that I would knit another right away. I am
going to Aunt Margaret's to stay a few days. Her
236 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 237
girls are going to school at Live Oak and I do not see
them as often as when they attended school here at
Pine Hill.
April 2nd, I864.-We did a mean thing yesterday.
It being "all fools day", we issued invitations to a favored few to supper. Then we went to work to play
a joke on them. We induced Betsey, who keeps house
for the Donelsons, to help us. We made pies, beautiful looking pies, but they were filled with cotton instead
of fruit. Green corn had just filled out enough to eat,
so we had corn fritters, but cotton was shredded
through and through the tempting looking brown cakes.
We had hot biscuits, but they, too, were tough and
unfit to eat because of the cotton kneaded in the dough.
A beautiful bowl of salad graced the centre of the table,
but instead of lettuce, hoarhound had been used. Now
Mother would never have let us do this but Aunt Margaret is very indulgent and allows her daughters to do
pretty much as they please. The company arrived,
three young ladies and three soldiers from Camp Randolph. We took our seats at the table and Aunt Margaret made the coffee and the dishes were handed to the
guests. It was only when we saw the blank expression
on their faces that we understood what an unkind prank
we had played.
Aunt Margaret arose to the occasion-Betsey must
have whispered in her mistress' ear, for she touched
the bell, which sat beside her plate and Rose and Charity came in and removed the dishes, which we had come
to hate by this time, and Betsey followed, with old Aunt
Prudy in the rear, with a truly good supper, a more
bountiful one than we had provided and far better. Oih,
how we thanked Aunt Margaret and she did not scold
us one bit.
April 6th, I864.-There was a concert last night at
the Capitol for the benefit of the Martha Reid Hospital,
in Richmond. Local talent, assisted by Quincy and 
Through Some Eventful Years
Monticello, furnished the music.  Sister Mart was one
of the star performers and there were a score of others.
Pretty music they made and a pretty picture, too, as
they all came forward to the footlights and bowed,
when the curtain first rose. As one of the audience I
had a good opportunity to judge.
Several gentlemen with fine voices offered their
services and we had very fine music, both vocal and
instrumental. They sang operatic selections; they sang
soft, plaintive Confederate songs; they sang the worldold ballads that everybody loves and they sang patriotic songs and wound up with Dixie, sung by the entire
assembly and followed by cheers so heartfelt as almost
to shake the foundations of Florida's Capitol.
Quite a large sum was realized and many of the gentlemen present added hundreds of dollars to the original amount. The hospitals will need all we can send
them, for every day brings us fresh news of skirmishing and often of battles. We are so far off from the
seat of war here that it is hard to remember all the time
how perfectly terrible it is.
April 7th, i864.-Today I have no shoes to put on.
All my life I have never wanted to go bare-footed, as
most Southern children do. The very touch of my
naked foot to the bare ground made be shiver. Lulu
my Mammy, scolds me about this even yet she claims
the privilege of taking me to task when she thinks I
need it.
"Look here, chile," she says, "don't you know you is
made outen the dus' er de earth? Don't you onderstand dat when you is dead you is gwine back ter dat
dus'?"
"Yes, Lulu," I answer meekly.
"Well, den, what is you so foolish fur? Better folks
dan you is gone bare-footed."
I listen to all she has to say but a thought has come
to me and I have no time to argue the point.  Until
238 
The Departmlent of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 239
the shoes for the army are finished, Mr. McDearnmid
will not have time to make any shoes for any one else,
this is right, for our dear soldiers must come first in
everything, but I will stop writing now and get to work.
April 9th, I864.-Today I have on railroad stockings and slippers. Guess what these slippers are made
of? Whenever I go to uncle Richard's I see an old
black uncle, hard at work plaiting shucks and weaving
the plaits together into door mats. It seemed to me a
lighter braid might be sewed into something resembling
shoes, so I picked out the softest shucks and soon had
enough to make one slipper. So pleased was I that I
soon had a pair of shoes ready to wear. They are a
little rough so I have pasted inside a lining of velvet.
Everybody laughed, but I feel quite proud.
April 8th, I864.-I am at home again and father
and mother say they have missed me. The hospital
patients are better and High Private Watson is begging to go back to his uncle. Father has written to him
and described the child's condition, asking if he might
send him to his relatives in Macon?   No answer has
come and the little fellow is too feeble to be allowed
to go to camp, so Father is going to send him to Macon
with Mr. Higgins, (who was wounded in the shoulder
and is about well now). He has a short furlough to
visit his home in Griffin and will take charge of him.
There are a number of soldiers sick with some kind
of fever, which will fill the places these two leave vacant.
Brother Junius writes that he liked his knit undershirts and drawers so well that he wants me to knit
him some of cotton. I will get to work on them right
away. He writes that the army is almost constantly
on the move and the soldiers have hopes of defeating
Grant, in this Spring campaign and ending the war. I
have taken care of all the letters he has written me;
he writes alternately to Mattie and to me.   Father 
Through Some Eventful Years
says his letters would make a good history of the army
of Northern Virginia. Last winter he wrote such entertaining accounts of the "night school" the soldiers
had, not the primary grades either, but a classical school
with oratorical efforts interspersed.
I have little time now for study, I still keep on with
some studies and recite to Father, when he has time
to hear me, or we talk it over when we are out in the
woods collecting medicinal herbs. What I am most
interested in at present is Upham's Mental Philosophy.
I do not teach Frances now, she was so bad that Mother sent her to stay at the Horse-shoe with Aunt Pendar.
She does not work in the field but takes lessons in sewing from Mrs. MNanning.
June 2nd, I864.-There are many aching hearts in
our land these bright, beautiful summer days. If it
was not for the little children, who do not realize the
danger we are facing, I do not believe we could stand it.
Bless their dear young hearts, which are so light that
they overflow with merriment no matter how black
everything looks to us.
Fighting is almost continuous now and there is not
standing room around the bulletin board, to do more
than get a hurried glance at the list of "Killed, Wounded and Missing." Oh, those horrible words, I seem to
see them in letters of fire when I wake in the night.
Father has a very sick patient and Mother is helping
to nurse him. Mrs. Manning, Aunt Robinson and I
have been busy packing a large box of clothing to be
sent tomorrow to the army of Northern Virginia.
A late supper of rice-cakes, Irish potatoes and squabs,
cooked in Adeline's best style, finished the day. It is
now Io o'clock and everybody ought to be abed and
asleep. We will not hear from the front tonight. May
the news, when we hear it, be good.
June 4th, I864.-Uncle Richard has just returned
from Tallahassee. This morning the telegraph wires
240 
The Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida 241
were working for the first time in four days. It brings
us dreadful news, on the 2nd inst. a battle was fought
at Cold Harbor, some of our Florida boys were wounded and two were killed. Colonel Henry D. Capers was
desperately wounded and is now in the hospital. Seven
of his battalion were killed; the names were not given.
August 8th, i 864.-This is a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer. Our armies in Virginia and in the
West have suffered reverses of late and we have many
such days. All who can, go to church; all the churches
hold services. We take our knitting with us. Some
stay all day, for they are fasting, but Father will not let
us fast absolutely. He says "To keep your strength
some food must be taken. Eat sparingly, but do not
refrain entirely, for if you do you will not be capable
of the best work and that is what our country calls for
now."
The telegraph wires are down and we have heard
nothing for days. What there may be for us to hear
we do not know. Father in Heaven, take care of our
poor boys!
August I Ith, I864.-Communication is established
once more and Oh, the horrible, horrible news that has
come to us!  Capers' Battalion reached Petersburg
just in time for that terrible explosion and a part of
his command were blown to atoms. Frank Baker is
killed and so is my little new cousin. Mr. Kellar will
never sing for us again. When he said goodbye and
we told him we hoped to have him back before long and
hear his sweet songs again, he said, "If I don't come
back I'll join the Choir as soon as I get to Heaven and
I'll sing for you there."
It is heart-rending to think of death and destruction,
bodily destruction, for those young boys, who were so
thoroughly alive, who were looking forward to a speedy
return home and the home folks who were waiting for
them. Oh, it is dreadful! 
CHAPTER XVIII
iMARTHY"
N April, eighteen-sixty-four, faint gleams of hope for
the Southern Confederacy appeared upon the hori zon. The North was sick of war and when we say this
we mean the representative people of the North. Spec ulators and profiteers did not want to see the war end;
they were making fortunes; the like of which had never
been known before. What cared they that so many
perish, what to them were the breading hearts of the
wives and mothers and sisters? The fatherless orphans
on every side did not touch their hearts; all they cared
for, all they worshiped was the "almighty dollar", and
because of these greedy vultures, the war went on.
In the air rumors were afloat of recognition for the
Confederacy by European nations; this gave us a hope
and we hugged it to our breasts with passionate fervor.
In the meantime Grant had been placed at the head
of all the armies the United States had in the field. He
was a man of undoubted courage and grim determination; his famous saying, "I'll fight it out on this line if
it takes me all summer," showed the true character of
this man, who has been called "Grant, the Butcher."
No sacrifice of human life appalled him, he had a task
before him and what did it matter who suffered, while
he accomplished his task? Lee, the splendid soldier,
Lee, the Christian gentleman, was at a grave disadvantage, when they opposed each other; these two characters were so diametrically opposite.
It did seem as if the Lord, looking down from His
throne on high, would have favored the man who, from
his youth up, had kept His Commandments, but, long
ago we were forced to believe that there is no "god of
battles." And why should there be? God is Love, He
cannot take delight in strife and bloodshed. Our prayers
(242) 
'"iarthy"
are of no avail, when we go contrary to His teaching
and it is only in this way that we can reconcile to our own
mind the earnest prayers and supplications which ascended daily, hourly, from the hearts of the Southern
people. They were a god-fearing nation, sincere in all
the professions they made; they had faith in God and
yet, when the end came it was past belief.
In this Spring of eighteen and sixty-four, however,
we had not ceased to hope, nor had we ceased to make
every effort to succeed. General Lee moved on and
in "The Wilderness" a battle took place, which almost
equalled Gettysburg in slaughter.   Spotsylvania was
furiously fought and so it went on, sometimes one army
was victorious and then the other. We of the South
had services of thanksgiving and days when we sent
up our supplications to the Throne of Grace and bowed
our heads in humiliation because of defeat. Our hearts
were still strong within us, for we knew we were right
and we believed the Lord was on our side.
In the wildwood of Southern Georgia, a country
sparsely settled, lived a widow and her large family of
sons. She and her husband had come in the first years
of their marriage, to this region of promise. Eight
sons they had when the husband was killed by a falling
tree. Kind neighbors came for the last sad offices; a
rude pine coffin was made and a grave dug, beneath the
largest pine tree in the enclosure. The poor, bruised
and mangled body was placed tenderly in the coffin
and six feet of Georgia earth covered it from sight.
Through the long winter the widow and her sons,
lonely and desolate, did what they could to keep the
wolf from the door. It is the fashion, in this land of
which we write, to help one another and they did not
fail in this instance. The winter was past and gone.
About the little cabin door the wire-grass, diamondstudded with dew, sparkled in the April sunshine, lofty
pines, straight and beautiful, showed a wealth of green
243 
Through Some Eventful Years
above, and in the wire-grass, flowers of many hues lifted
their sweet faces to the light. Within the cabin the
world-old struggle was going on. An hour later a
ninth son, a little boy who would never see his father's
face, drew in the breath of life.
In South Georgia at that time, there were but few
homes and what they termed "a settlement" often
covered miles of territory. The vast pine forests, in
their beauty and loneliness, had, as yet, attracted but
a small number and they were of the courageous, highhearted pioneer stock. This settlement was composed
principally of North Carolinians. In the pine country
of the Old North State, they had been reared and,
when they sought out a new home, what was more
natural than to seek a similar environment? These
settlers were all "Methodist" and when, in May, the
Circuit-Rider came on his yearly round, the father's
funeral sermon was preached and the baby baptized
and given the name of Sylvester.
When the Circuit-Rider could beg, or borrow (he
was never able to buy) a buggy or a gig he brought his
wife along and this time she was in evidence. An elderly woman whose hair was thickly sprinkled with
gray; her face a living exposition of the Christian virtues. She was, indeed, a comfort to this sorrowing
mother of many sons; so strongly did her heart go out
to this bereaved sister that, on the following morning,
when her husband was ready to move on, she announced
her intention to stay and help the needy household. In
vain the preacher urged her to accompany him; to her
mind this was a call direct from God. It might be,
probably would be, another year before the CircuitRider came this way again, but she was immovable.
"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do with all thy
might," was evidently her motto and she turned a
deaf ear to his objections and calmly proceeded to put
the little cabin to rights and then to bathe and dress
244 
"Marthy"
the tiny babe. She was indeed a gift of God to that
stricken household.   Into the mother's heart she infused fresh hope and courage. In kindly words she
pointed out the great work the Lord had cut out for
her; to train these fine boys to work in His vineyard;
to raise them up to be a credit to the father, who had
gone from them; to teach them, above all things, to
be honest and true and to give to her, their mother,
the love and obedience, which the sacred scripture enjoins. As they sat in the twilight, after the evening
meal was over and the little ones were asleep, and the
older boys played around or sat on the step and listened,
all these things were talked over in a way so loving and
so convincing that the words sank deep into the hearts
of her hearers.
"Here a little, there a little
As a bird buildeth her nest,"
And who but God, Himself, could know the good
she accomplished? The summer passed away; Autumn
had come and the children were piling up pine cones for
the winter's kindling, when the circuit-rider appeared
at the cabin door. He had come for his wife and the
feeling of blank desolation she left behind beggars description; but the mother had given her promise that
her teachings should not be forgotten.  So, day by day,
she and the boys tried hard to live up to the light,
which the preacher's wife had assured them, God let
shine upon their path. All this time the little Sylvester
was thriving and growing and every day he looked
more and more like the father he had never seen. His
mother loved all her boys but she felt for Sylvester an
added tenderness, an even deeper love.
As yet there were no schools in this lovely country
of pines or if, at long distances, a school house appeared
in the wire-grass, it was sure to be a school to which a
favored few had contributed and only their children
245 
Through Some Eventful Years
could attend; so these boys grew up with no "book
learning" but wise in many other ways. A considerable
clearing had been made by this time and happy in her
splendid boys the mother once more enjoyed life.'Tis
true the boys did not all stay at home, for "My son's
my son, till he gets him a wife," is an old saying and,
one after another, these handsome fellows found true
mates and sometimes moved some distance from mother
and home, but, to her, this was as it should be and so
long as she could keep Sylvester she was satisfied.
Then came the War Between the States and, even
in the solitude of these pines, the war cry was heard.
Their ancestors, back in "North Ca'lina," had followed Green to Yorktown in Revolutionary days and
in pioneer blood lurks no cowardice, so, one by one,
these boys enlisted in the Confederate army. The pure
flame of patriotism burned high in those brave hearts
and they went forth to fight for home and country. The
mother, too, was patriotic and she would have been
satisfied if she could only have kept Sylvester, so strong
and handsome he was, so young to go away, so like his
father, so marvellously like him, that father he had
never seen. They were gone, all gone and, alone for
the first time in her cabin home, she knelt and prayed.
The circuit-rider's wife had done a good work and,
though God had taken her to Himself some years before, her spirit still lived in this desolate home. Nay,
more, her spirit had gone forth with the soldier boys,
and would be with them in camp and on the battlefield.
"A word spoken in due season, how good it is."
At first the house had consisted of one room only,
but as the boys grew up, room after room, was added
and it was now a large house for that day and time.
Built of logs, just as the first cabin had been, with puncheon floors and chimneys of "stick and dirt," reaching
half way across the room and furnishing both light and
heat to the inmates. Now the house seemed too big
240 
"Marthy"
for her, so she closed a part and went to work to spin
and weave, to knit and sew, until all Sylvester's wants
were supplied and then the others came in for a share.
Her needs were few; she had cows and hogs, poultry
and a garden, these supplied her every want. No need
to ride six miles to mill to get bread for just one, so
she cleaned "big hominy" in the mortar, which, with
its heavy pestle, sat always at the kitchen door. Lonely
she was and sad, but it is a blessing to have some work
which we feel obliged to do; work which will benefit
those we love. And to her this employment brought
contentment.
The oldest son was killed at Sharpsburg but she did
not hear of it until near Christmas. A comrade, on
furlough, brought the news, for neither mother nor
sons could write nor could they read when others wrote.
The boys could always get some more fortunate man to
read a letter but those at home, far away from any
such, letters were a poor comfort, indeed. Two of
these brave boys were left on the field of Gettysburg
and now they were fronting a greater loss.  In the
spring of I864, Sylvester had  a furlough of three
weeks; his mother was wild with delight; her days were
a paean of thanksgiving to God, that He had brought
her dearly beloved safe again to her arms. A week
passed and then "Marthy" and Sylvester stood before
her and asked her blessing. They wanted to be married and the preacher was to be in the settlement next
week. It was as if the Lord, Himself, smiled on their
marriage for this was not the regular time for the
preacher to come. With a little jealous pang at her
heart, the mother gave the coveted blessing. Marthy
was a good girl, she was raised almost under her own
eye and Sylvester could find no better wife and then,
too, as he said, "You won't be so lonesome when I'm
gone with Marthy to keep you company." The days
of the furlough sped swiftly by and the hour of parting
247 
Through Some Eventful Years
came all too soon. As her boy had said, it was not
near so lonesome with Marthy in the house
Late one afternoon about the end of May, a stranger,
who had lost his way going to Albany, stopped to get
directions to go on. Of course they asked for news
from the war? He had in his pocket a Macon paper,
fully two weeks old it was, and it contained a list of
the killed, wounded and missing from the Battle of the
Wilderness. Reading it over to them, very slowly, for
reading did not come easy to him, he read out "Sylvester Carter, missing." At first, in utter abandonment
of grief, both women wept bitterly, then the mother,
remembering her trust in God, spoke words of hope to
the poor young wife.  The paper did not say he was
dead, it did not even say he was wounded or sick; it
might be he was a prisoner and would be exchanged or
it might be he had just got separated from the rest. So
many things might have been and he would yet come
home again. Marthy's sobs ceased, and both women
busied themselves in getting supper for the stranger,
for hospitality was one of the cardinal virtues in this
settlement.
Always watching, always hoping, always praying,
the summer wore away. Marthy's secret was a secret
no more and the mother wept herself to sleep at night,
because it had been borne upon her that this child that
was coming, like Sylvester, himself, would never see its
father's face. To Marthy she showed a cheerful countenance and there was need that she should. As the
days went by, Marthy grew more and more restless,
until one night when the moon was full and all the
earth was flooded with its white light, poor Marthy
broke down.
"I jus' got to hear from Syl, I'll die if I can't hear
from Syl," she cried.
The old woman was easy to move now, for she, too,
felt that she would die if she did not hear. They knew
248 
"llMarthy"
where the family of Sylvester's captain lived and,
though it was sixty miles away, they prepared to make
the journey. Before light next morning they started
in a small cart, drawn by a large yellow mule, with ears
that flopped ludicrously. A rocking chair was in the
back and in it sat Marthy with pillows at back and feet.
On the driver's seat sat our old friend of pioneer days;
the same old spirit shone in her blue eyes and her grasp
upon the reins showed determination.
It was a long ride and a hot one. Once having started,
they could brook no delay and, except to let the mule
eat and drink, no stop was made. They reached Pine
Hill Plantation about eleven o'clock at night but the
family were still up. Captain Taylor had come home
for a week's stay and friends had collected to spend
an evening with him. All had departed and we were just
about to say goodnight, when this queer equipage drove
up to the front door. Dr. Bradford and Captain Taylor went out to meet it and in a few minutes they came
in, supporting Marthy in their arms.  The ride had
been too much for her and she could not even straighten
herself, the ride had been so long and her position so
cramped. Mrs. Carter stood it well and when Marthy
had been comfortably placed upon the library couch
and she was also seated, she told her story. "And now,"
she said in conclusion, "kin you tell me where I kin find
Captain Taylor?"
Captain Taylor rose from his seat, such a splendid
looking man he was in his gray uniform, he stood before her, he took the work-hardened hand in both of
his.
"Mrs. Carter," he said, "I am your son's captain
and I am happy to tell you I left him, not a week ago,
safe and sound. He was reported missing but he turned
up next day, shot in the foot but so slight a wound he
did not lose a single day from it."
Joy never kills, they say, but Mrs. Carter, who had
249 
Through Some Eventful Years
stood so much, fainted dead away and Marthy lay still
and cried. Dr. Bradford forbade any farther conver sation until some supper had been eaten but Marthy
had something to say. Scarcely able to walk she made
her way to Captain Taylor's chair and dropping on her
knees she seized his hands, covered them with kisses
and tears, while she called down God's blessings on his
head. It was like a very sensational novel and we were
glad to get the wanderers both to bed.
Dr. and Mrs. Bradford were positive that Marthy
should not be awakened in the morning and when she
woke of herself, she must have breakfast in bed and
rest, for as many hours as she could be persuaded to
lie still. They stayed for two weeks and you never saw
such grateful people, though we assured them it was a
pleasure and a privilege to help them.
Captain Taylor promised to mention Sylvester in
every letter he wrote home and we promised to let her
hear right away if anything should happen to him. Mrs.
Carter was a very interesting woman, and, in the two
weeks of her stay with us, she told us much of her life
story; of the nine sons she had given to her country;
of the fatherless grandchildren the three dead sons
had left and of her hopes and fears for the others but
always the thought that hurt her most was: "The little
child what's a-comin' won't never see its father's face."
It was an obsession and we grew superstitious, too, and
expected to hear of Sylvester Carter's death.
In April, I 865, the war ended and nothing had been
heard of the Carters. Three years later a member of
our family, riding through south Georgia, in search of
a favorable site for a saw-mill, found himself only a
mile or two from the Carter cabin. He went to see
them and was received with delight. He had only a
short time to stop but he had to go over the house and
see that it was all just as Mrs. Carter had told it. The
rooms added here and there as they were needed, the.
250 
"Marthy"
neatly hewed logs, the puncheon floors, white enough
to eat off of, the home-made furniture and the last piece
to be finished was a new cradle, which Sylvester had
made for his little daughter, two months old. The
grandmother explained that "the three children was
a!l babies an' the old cradle couldn't be spared, when
the little gal come along."
October 27, i864.-I certainly do love to go to
Uncle Tom's; I have always loved him and his daughters but the principal attraction just now is the crowd
of children who are living with him "until this cruel
war is over." Captain Bernard and Cousin Tom, both
brought their families to Uncle Tom, when they enlisted in the army. Cousin Mary Bernard is a beautiful
woman and she has four uncommonly good-looking
little folks; Bettie, ten years old, is a demure, wee
maiden, much smaller than Overton, who is only eight.
Ruby is just the prettiest brunette youngster you
ever saw and Jessie, who is only two years old, is perfectly lovely and I love to get her in my arms. But
we have a sweet little girl at our house and cousin William and cousin Sarah have two, who are hard to beat,
but all of these, like Cousin Mary's, are quiet children.
Cousin Tom and Cousin Frances have six and they interest me greatly. They are not quiet, not they. Such
rollicking, frolicking, jolly boys you never saw.
Uncle Tom really adores them but he complains
heavily of the liberties they take. No sooner does he settle himself comfortably on the front porch to read the
newspaper than they absolutely swarm all over him. If
he has a letter to write he runs them off but usually it
ends in his rising from that aforesaid comfortable position and going with them to the pasture to catch a
horse; to the lot to yoke up some calves to be broken
for oxen; to the lake to paddle the canoe or perhaps
to catch some fish, anything to get "grandpa," who is
their idol, out in the open with them.
25I 
Through Some Eventful Years
It is in vain that Cousin Frances says "Father, do
not let these boys disturb you in this manner, Daniel
has nothing to do but look after them." But she knows
a'l the time that it is his pleasure to humor them.
I love this "rough and tumble" young army; they are
like steps when they stand in a row and the eldest one
is just a very small boy.  I love to take them out of
doors and listen to them talk. Yesterday we met at
Walnut Hill, to sew and then, of course, we could not
play, but the children came around and there was a
steady stream of talk.  The boys and girls seemed
equally proud of the "Soldier Papa" as they called
their absent fathers but today they had Christmas on
the brain.
"What will Santa Claus bring us, Aunt Lizzie?"
asked Sam.
Aunt Lizzie explained that the blockade would keep
Old Santa out of the country.
"Don't you remember, Sam, when Captain Wheeler's
boat was trying to enter the Suwanee and the Yankees
captured him and all the nice clothes Grandpa had ordered and paid for, for you, were captured?"
"Yes," Sam remembered, and a silence fell upon the
group, sitting around on the floor and, when conversation was resumed, it was rather a sad outlook for
Christmas.
Sam was certainly needy; the clothes he wore were
neatly patched in almost every conceivable place and
like Joseph's coat, showed many colors. Sadly the boys
talked of Christmas trees they had either seen or heard
of; almost with tears they deplored the blockade and
finally little Henry sobbed out loud, "Oh, God, please
'stroy de''Ankees." Some way must be found to help
Santa Claus run the blockade.
November 3rd, I864.-We have grown so expert
in sewing and knitting and materials are getting so
scarce that we have gone into a new business. The
2'2 
'"Mlarthy' "
Bradford neighborhood has inaugurated a Toy Shop.
At Uncle Tom's there are ten children, four of Cousin
Mary's and six of Cousin Tom's; at Cousin William's
there are two; at Dr. Holland's, little George is to be
looked after and Sister Mag has two, so we are making
toys and it taxes the inventive powers to the utmost.
We have made rag dolls of all sizes. Some are
dressed as babies, some are nurses, some are dressed
in Confederate uniforms and some are fine ladies in
hoop-skirts. We have made many kinds of animals
of scraps of dark goods and a mock snow man of ginned cotton but Cousin Sallie has surpassed all the workers in the neighborhood by making a rooster a foot
high, of watermelon seed. The natural color of the
seed lent themselves beautifully to the breast and sides
and she stained some of the seed to give the needed
touch of red and to furnish the black tail which all
common fowls seem to possess.  It is such a success
we are all envious.
We have a maker of books also and our Christmas
tree will surprise the children who have been told that
Santa Claus cannot run the blockade. We, ourselves,
have gotten a lot of pleasure out of these preparations
and I am sure the soldiers in camp will read with interest of these efforts to make their little ones happy. Of
course we only work at this when other duties have been
disposed of but we have several weeks still ahead of us
and much more can be accomplished; we keep thinking
of other children who must not be forgotten.
November 24th, 1 864.-Three times a week Mother
fixes up a basket to send in to the Tallahassee hospital,
fresh butter and butter milk; fresh vegetables from the
garden; any kind of fruit we happen to have and always two large loaves of delicious home-made bread.
This last is a luxury as flour is hard to get. Father
raises wheat and he has put in bolting cloths in his grist
mill, so the wheat can be prepared for use. This morn
253 
Through Some Eventful Years
ing Sister Mart and I carried the basket and I was so
sorry for a patient, whom I had not heard of until today. It seems he was shot through the lungs, at the
battle of Olustee, and has been here in the hospital
ever since. Some of the people here, becoming interested in him, have tried to get him exchanged but have
met with no success. He is slowly dying of consumption
and he wants to go home. His family live up North,
somewhere and Mr. Craig, who goes often to see him,
says they are frantic to get him exchanged but they
can do no more than the few who are trying in Tallahassee can do. Mr. Craig writes his letters home for
him since he has grown so weak; he still cherishes the
hope of going home but they say he would not be able
to go now, even if the exchange could be made. It is
pitiful! Sick in a strange land and for so long.
December 9th, I864.-The poor, sick prisoner is
sick and in prison no longer. He died this morning,
died happy, too, for Mr. Craig, who sat up with him
last night, says he could not see any harm in telling
him the papers had come and now he was going home.
He was so happy and he held Mr. Craig's hand and
made his plans to start next day; asked if he would not
go with him to Port Royal, where Southern authorities took their prisoners for exchange. He talked of his
mother, of his sisters and told Mr. Craig they would
write and tell him how grateful they were. Poor fellow.  He was buried at sundown today, in the spot
reserved for those who die in the hospital. His grave
is marked and if his family should wish it, he can be
moved when the war is over.
December i6th, I864.-We  have had company today, ladies from town to spend the day. I have listened
to many a bit of gossip and heard some laughable incidents related. Life is a complex problem; it is like
a kaleidoscope in its changing scenes. On one side all
is gay and bright and on the other, sorrow and dark
misery.
254 
255
One of Father's favorite texts is this: "Trust in the
Lord and do good," and it seems that is the only thing
left for us to do. Father says I must remember that
the Bible says there is a time for all things, a time to
laugh and a time to weep and it is as much our duty
to "rejoice with them that do rejoice" as it is "to weep
with them that weep." So I have tried to forget the
poor sick Yankee and his sad death and take part in the
fun these ladies are having.
There are to be two or three weddings; at least two
engagements are in sight, if not yet une fait accompli.
One couple were married last week and parted at the
church door; he to go to Virginia and she to go home
to wait for him.
Lieutenant So-and-So was suspected of casting soft
glances at a certain charming young widow, who still
wears her weeds, and eyebrows went up and voices were
lowered to a whisper, as the tale was recited of a certain aged Romeo and Juliet who are, at present, amusing Tallahassee society. Well, the day is over and
I will not deny that I have laughed as heartily as if
there was no war, but it is only to lose sight of it for a
little while.
December 26th, I864.-Christmas was truly delightful. The joy of the children, at sight of the beautiful tree and toys fully compensated us for the time
spent in their manufacture.  Such exclamations of delight; such squeals of joy; as they received the gifts
and realized that the blockade had not kept old Santa
out. I never saw a happier set of youngsters in my life.
We, who are grown old in service, do not expect gifts
any more but this morning I have two letters, one from
the Army of Northern Virginia and one from General
Forrest's Command in the West. Do diaries ever feel
curious?  I shall not tell you who these letters are
from.
February I7th, 1865.-There is little but bad news
"Marthy" 
Through Some Eventful Years
now. Sherman is a very Devil. If this goes on much
longer Georgia will be desolate indeed, for his favorite
weapon is the torch. Every State Capitol in the South,
except Tallahassee, has been captured and we cannot expect to escape much longer. The Yankees come nearer
every day and we lie in Slherman's path to the sea. As
they advance they pilfer and burn; all valuables are stolen; all provisions are taken, of course, and the rest goes
up in smoke. Mother asked Adeline if she could trust
her to help her to hide her valuables from McCook's
men. Adeline thought she could be trusted, so, with
Jordan's help, they dug pits in unlikely places; secreted
some small articles in hollow trees; hid the oil paintings under the floor of Adeline's own house; carefully
wrapped the family portraits and put them in the loft
above her head. Mother had implicit confidence in
Jordan and Adeline had given her word to be true and
the mistress felt that she need have no fear for her
treasures. The walls look bare with only the big mirrors to break the broad expanse. We will eat off of
vari-colored plates and dishes.  The set of French
china and all the cut glass are boxed and buried. "Fingers were made before knives and forks," mournfully
announced Father, as he saw the silverware being
packed, but something must be done to save them from
McCook's men. Captain Lester will not believe they
will ever get here. I hope they will not, but I am afraid.
All the girls in the neighborhood know how to shoot
and we have agreed, if we cannot escape we will shoot
ourselves rather than fall into the hands of the enemy
as they are treating the women and old men dreadfully
in Georgia. Another thing they are doing; in those
old Colonial homes in Georgia are many handsome
portraits, painted by famous artists; and of course fam ily portraits are always highly prized. When the Yan kees enter a house, where any of these are hanging
their first thought is to destroy them. Sometimes they
256 
"Marthy"
slit them to pieces, sometimes they shoot them up,
sometimes they are piled and burned  and it is such
vandals as this we have to deal with.
February 22nd, I865.-Washington's birthday!  I
used to read of the War of the Revolution and wondered if it could be true; it seemed so unbelievable. I
admire General Washington very much but I never once
imagined war could ever be so real to me. I wonder
when it will end? Some wars last so long and perhaps
this one may last for thirty years. If it does I hope
I will not live through all those years.
March Ist, I865.-We have a new lot of sick and
wounded soldiers in this morning; two of them, wounded and sent here because they will probably never be
fit for duty again, were completely worn out when they
came. Father gave them a hot toddy and mother sent
them some soup and such things as they could take and,
after a while they slept and woke about bed-time and
felt like talking.
Mr. Blount, the elder of the two, is from the Army
of Northern Virginia and, singularly enough, Mr. Glendenning is from the army of the West. They had never
met until they were helped into the ambulance to come
here.  Both of them give depressing accounts of the
different commands they are from. "Pessimists" we
would have called them once, but now we hesitate. I
believe, I must believe that our cause will succeed, we
pray to our God for help and surely He will hear our
cry.
It is late and Mother and I are waiting for Father.
He never rests while there is anything to do, which will
make his patients more comfortable. Father is so hopeful, too, he never gets despondent, he never lets an
opportunity pass to help our beloved South.
March 2nd, I865.-This is a sad day for all of us,
dear Mother feels it most of all. When she was a child
she had her little pony, "Winnie Wiggin", to ride to
257 
Through Some Eventful Years
school, and after that she always had a horse which was
all her own. Grandpa loved fine horses and mother did,
too. When mother married, she knew she was marrying
a young doctor, who had his way to make in the world
but he found he could provide her with all she needed.
For five years now, she has been driving, to her especial
carriage, a fine pair of glossy bays, "Tom" and "Charley." These horses are the joy of Jordan's life and
he spends much time in brushing and currying his beautiful pets. At the beginning of the war there were
horses a plenty for the army, but, as time wore on more
and more were needed and all we had were given up to
the Confederacy; that is, all but Mother's carriage
horses. We were spending the day at Live Oak and
Jordan had brought the carriage to the door to carry
us home, when Mr. Elkins came riding up and ordered
the horses taken from the carriage. Jordan asked if
he could not be allowed to take his mistress home? To
this Mr. Elkins agreed but told him to have the horses
ready for him at nine o'clock next morning.
They are gone now and of course it is right for our
country to have them, but Mother will miss them very
much. Since the other horses were impressed we have
had Jordan to carry us to town twice a week for our
music and French lessons, tomorrow is the day, I wonder if we can go? Father says we can have a pair of
mules, that is if a gentle pair can be found.
March 4th, I865.-We went yesterday and it was
just too funny.  Jordan came to the door at eight
o'clock and sent Robert in, to tell us he was ready to
take us to town. We were sitting at breakfast table
but made haste to go and when we reached the carriage,
Sister Mart declared she would not ride behind such a
team. She was willing to ride behind mules, but not
such mules as those which had been selected. Father
said these were the only perfectly safe ones and we
must use them. It was fun enough to watch those mules.
258 
"Marthy"
One is a large yellow mule, quite the largest I have
ever seen, the other is a very small one, rejoicing in the
name of "Kits." She is of a shiny black contrasting well
with Robert's dirt-colored sides. "Kits" and "Robert,"
in place of the sleek, satiny steeds of two days ago.
Kits has a striking peculiarity, she has unusually long
ears and they always point in opposite directions. Jor dan had attempted to make the harness fit but it did not
speak well for his skill. At last Sister Mart was in duced to get in the carriage and off we went. Our
team traveled well and we were becoming somewhat
reconciled, when we reached town and were opposite
the postoffice. Here our new horses (?) met a wagon
from Horse-shoe Plantation, drawn by some of their
acquaintances.  Such a greeting as they gave them,
such braying, such rapid movements of Kit's long ears
and the answer from the plantation team, woke the
echoes. By this time a crowd had collected and Sister
Mart burst into tears.  I was sorry for her but my svympathies are mostly for Mother. She, for the first time
in her life has no horses. I understand that Mother's
pets are to serve in Houstoun's Battery.
Every day brings us news of fresh atrocities in Georgia. WTe come next, what our fate will be none may
know. Last week, near La Grange, an old gentleman,
over eighty, was taken from his home and carried miles
away to a swamp. Here he was found two days later,
bound hand and foot to a sapling, which had been bent
and allowed to spring back. The poor old man was
almost dead when he was cut down and died before they
reached a place where a doctor could be had. This
gentleman's only offense was, that he would not tell
where his daughter's jewels were hidden, she was not at
home and when she returned she found her house in
ashes and her father dead. Why cannot the Yankees
act in an honorable manner as General Lee's men do?
March 5th, I865.-It seems we are not to be ca)p
259 
Through Some Eventful Years
tured by McCook after all. Over the signal stations between the Light House and Tallahassee a message canie
this morning. Gunboats are around the light house and
colored troops are landing and are now on the way to
Tallahassee via Newport. Such excitement I never
saw; Captain Brokaw called in the Home Guards and
they came, from the farm, the stores, from all places,
where old men were employed, they came hurrying in.
Soldiers at home on furlough, (there are very few of
these) came forward to take their places in the ranks of
Tallahassee's defenders. The cadets from the seminary, west of the Suwanee, offered their services and
there was even some talk of a company of women, to
organize and help to hold the enemy at bay. It is four
o'clock now and these hastily marshalled troops are
gone. Tallahassee waits, waits for news of the morrow.
March 6th, I865.-The battle is on and since daylight we have been listening to the booming of cannon.
Natural Bridge, where the two armies met, is only
eighteen miles (as the crow flies) from Tallahassee and
these big guns can be heard plainly. This is our first
experience in warfare at first hand and I do not feel
quite as bad as I expected. I am so hot with anger, I
would like to take part in the fighting myself. Now,
while I am scribbling this, we are waiting at the depot,
for there are no telegraph lines, no way to hear from
the battle except by courier or by train.
Mother has been sending the nicest lunches to us to
be sent down to Natural Bridge, for distribution among
the soldiers; others are doing this same thing and I
hope none will go hungry.  Dick Long rode in a few
minutes ago with a dispatch for the Governor. Of
course we do not know what it is but we will waylay
the messenger on the return and, if possible, stop him
long enough to hear the news. There he comes now.
It was impossible to get anything out of Dick. He
260 
"Marthy"
positively would not tell us one thing, except how well
"Yannie" behaved in the fight. Then he and Yannie
were off like a flash. Well, I suppose that is the way for
a courier to do his part.
It is night, the battle is over and we have some news
at last. God has been good to us and the enemy was
completely routed, though we were outnumbered four
to one. All the troops were negroes but the officers
were white, if we had not been reinforced at the critical moment, things might have been different but a
Regiment of Georgians rushed in and the enemy fled,
not knowing how many more might be coming. We
lost two men, Captain Simmons and a private whose
name I have not yet ascertained.  Poor Mrs. Simmons,
she has a little two weeks' old baby and has been very
ill. After the terrible excitement of the last fortyeight hours Tallahassee should sleep well tonight.
We have a ten-mile ride before us but it would not
be right to stay in town when Father and Mother will
be anxious to hear the full account of the battle, before
they sleep.
March 7th, I865.-Today Captain Simmons was
buried in the Tallahassee Cemetery. His poor wife
came from her home and fainted at the grave. How
horrible war is!
I had an invitation to go on a picnic to Natural
Bridge today. How awful! I do not understand such
curiosity. General Miller says dead negroes were actually piled upon one another in places and the river
was covered with their floating bodies. General Newton commanded the Federals, one of his orders, picked
up on the battle field this morning is horrible beyond
belief. Let us thank God they were not allowed the
opportunity to carry it out.
March i oth, I 8 65.-Not one of the cadets was hurt.
Not many went, because none were permitted to go
without a written permit from their parents and those
26i 
Through Some Eventful Years
who went are so proud and those who did not go are
so chagrined. It is funny to hear them talk it over.
Charley says, "we stayed right behind General Miller
and his staff all the time."
"Why was that, Charley?" I asked.
"So we could protect him," was the proud answer.
I did not dare to tell the dear little fellow that the
commanding officer was supposed to occupy the safest
position.
March isth, I865.-I am afraid we have the swellhead because we repulsed the enemy and made him take
to his gun-boats. It seems to have put new life and
hope in us all. The news from the armies is a mixture
of good and bad; more funds are needed for the hospitals and Leon County is preparing for a concert, in
which the entire musical talent will be called out and
great things are expected. It will take some time to
get this elaborate entertainment ready for the public,
so the 9th of April has been appointed as the most
suitable time.
Cousin Bettie will play "Une Pluie du Perle" and
cousin Fannie Nash will play "Sleeping I Dreamed
Love." Sister Mart and Cousin Jennie are practising
a beautiful German duet. If I knew German I would
tell the name but I cannot even be sure I would spell it
right and I know I could never pronounce it. Everybody who is at all musical is in this concert but I am
only a listener.
These arrangements were made yesterday.  Cousin
Jewel is going to play a lovely Nocturne. She is a
genius in music and she thinks they are taking too much
time in preparing for the concert.  Isn't it funny how
people differ even in little matters like this?
Father's fever patients are well again and returned
today to camp but Mr. Blount and Mr. Clendenning
will never be well again. The enemy have possession
of the home, in the Valley of the Shenandoah, where
262 
"Marthy"
Mr. Blount used to live and Mr. Clendenning's mother
lived in Atlanta, until the Yankees burned her out.
Father will keep them until they want to make a change.
March i 8th, i 865.-Do not think we have been neglecting either the knitting, the spinning and weaving
or the sewing, while this excitement is going on. Lulu
takes my work for me when I go away and she is more
capable than I, where the sewing is concerned, though
she is not so good at the spinning wheel. My knitting
I always take with me, no matter where I may go. I
have learned to knit in the dark and that is a very necessary accomplishment these candleless nights. My first
diary was a small red morocco book, the pages were not
ruled and I had great trouble writing straight. When
I needed another I bought a book twice as large, from
Mr. McDougal's bookstore. That one lasted until the
war and the blockade had made paper of all kinds very
scarce. In I863 I needed another diary and this, in
which I now write, is of the coarse, thick, rough paper,
almost like wall-paper. I have to use a pencil because
in the first place we have no ink, and in the next place
the paper would blot if I tried to use it. We have
learned to do without so many things we used to consider necessities. We make a substitute for ink but
it fades in a short time and we have not been able, as
yet, to make a fast color. So, as I am writing this, for
my great-grandchildren, I am using a "No. I"
drawing pencil. Brother Amos got me a dozen in
Augusta and advised me to hide them away where nobody could find them. I have taken his advice for I
have become so attached to you, my Diary, I would
really be distressed to give you up.
April Ist, I865.-More distressing news of our dear
boys at the front. In Virginia and in the army now
slowly falling back before Sherman, starvation is staring them in the face.  Johnston's men are fighting almost inch by inch; every foot of the way is contested.
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Through Some Eventful Years
In Virginia, "Lee's Invincibles," are falling from the
ranks, fainting from lack of food. This is heart-breaking, and yet our people are hopeful of final success. I
know I am as true to "The Cause" as any but it seems
to me there is but little hope. "Whom the Lord loveth
He chasteneth and scourgeth every son whom He would
receive."
264 
CHAPTER XIX
WHEN WE WALKED IN GETHSEMANE
HESE last days of the Confederacy were trying
ones. Our spirits rose and fell, as the news at the
telegraph office was good or bad. Day and night found
a crowd around the office waiting anxiously, not always
the same crowd but just as eager to hear. "Carpet Generals" were never wanting to place the blame for misfortune on this or that commander, but no one listened
to them. There was an almost universal contempt for
such as these. We were not willing to admit the possibility of defeat and yet we feared it.
With feverish energy we worked, hoping against
hope. The negroes could not have behaved better than
they did. Of course, after the landing of black troops
at the Light House, they knew the enemy were very
near and they very well knew what the defeat of the
South would mean to them, but no word was spoken.
There was not a shade's difference in demeanor, just
the same respectful, good-natured servitor he had always been; just as willing to take any part they could
in helping their "white folks." Many a thought was
left unspoken in those days.
The 9th of April came and that night all Tallahassee,
as well as many from the country round about, were
assembled in the Hall of Representatives in Florida's
Capitol. The scene was not one to be easily forgotten;
the animated faces; the evident enjoyment and the
smart sprinkling of gray coats and gold lace, from a
nearby camp. But all this was eclipsed when the curtain
rose. It was beautiful. At the back was a life-size
portrait of General Washington; above this picture
was draped the flag of secession, given to Florida, a
little more than four years ago, when she had severed
(265) 
Through Some Eventful Years
the ties which bound her to the Union and stood alone,
a sovereign power.
Our town was justly celebrated for its lovely roses
in those days and these were used in the greatest profusion, filling the air with their fragrance. In the centre of the stage stood a grand piano and a handsome
Confederate flag waved over it.  A score or more of
Florida's fairest daughters completed a picture of rare
beauty. When the cheers with which they were greeted
had sufficiently subsided, the leader came to the front
and announced that the opening selection was "Dixie,"
and the audience was invited to join in the chorus. Then
came more cheers and one after another the performers carried out the part assigned to them. Sweet oldtime airs were sung; operatic music enchanted educated
ears; touching Confederate songs brought tears to the
eyes of many.
A magnificent quartette was singing "The Southern
Marseillaise," when a gentleman entered the door and
advanced rapidly up the aisle, bearing aloft in his hand
a telegram. All hearts stood still, and waiting was agony, for none knew where the blow would fall. Ascending the steps he stood at last upon the platform.
Twice he tried to speak and twice his voice failed him.
Then he made a mighty effort and in a loud and unnatural voice, he read:
"General Lee surrendered the army of Northern
Virginia today, at Appomattox."
That was all but it was the death knell of all our
hopes and for a moment a silence as of the grave filled
the hall; then followed such a scene as we pray we may
never see repeated. Tears and cries and lamentation,
the bitterness of heart-broken woe.  Men, women, and
children, wept aloud as they realized the calamity which
had befallen us. Few slept that night and the sun arose
upon a miserable, broken-hearted people-far too miserable even to talk it over with each other. It was as
266 
When We WFalked in Gethsemane
though our nearest and dearest lay dead within the
house.
The hours passed slowly in this Garden of Gethsemane and in those hours the Southern woman,
throughout the poor conquered South, realized her
duty; sacrificing self upon the altar of love and, putting
her shoulder to the wheel, she made ready to help her
men. They were crushed and conquered, these noble
heroes, who, for four years had fought as never men
had fought before. They were coming home to poverty and want, all was lost save honor.
First of all their comfort must be looked after; that
was the duty which lay nearest to her hand. So, in
every home, however lowly, a welcome was prepared,
but how about those who were coming back to a chimney standing where once a home had been? If there
was no roof-tree, there was a woman's warm heart,
a woman's willing hand and nature was kind in these
April days. They should feel and know we held them
blameless for what had happened, our dear, dear boys.
These heroes of ours had gone forth so full of hope
and courage, so handsome and trim in their "suits of
gray" and now, they come in twos and threes, not in
regiments and battalions; heart-broken, footsore and
weary. Some were bare-footed, and on some, the gray
uniform hung in tatters and many a manly head sank
low on a woman's breast, while he wept the bitter tears
of humiliation and defeat. God help us! We cannot
believe we deserved to drink of this bitter cup.
If we could have had the kind of peace that General
Grant had in mind at Appomattox; if we could have
been entirely under the control of the United States
Regulars, all might yet have been well, but we were
turned over to the negro troops and, a little later, to the
Freedman's Bureau. Then a horde of Carpetbaggers
overran the country, inciting the hitherto harmless negroes to evil deeds of every kind, arresting white men
267 
Through Some Eventful Years
on trivial pretexts, carrying them before a Military
Court and after a trial,, which was only a travesty of
justice, pronouncing any sentence which seemed good
to them. Several citizens were banished to the Dry
Tortugas; some were incarcerated in local jails and
those who were shrewd enough to see through the motives of these "masters of the situation" paid some
money and went scot free. But before these Carpetbag days, came the wild search for President Davis and
-his cabinet. When Petersburg fell it was a foregone
conclusion that Richmond, too, would be taken by the
enemy, so President Davis packed all valuable papers
and such money as was in the treasury and, accompanied by the members of his cabinet, set out for a place
of safety.
Near Athens, Georgia, lived Mr. William Carr,
a gentleman of seventy or thereabouts. He had friends
in Charleston, South Carolina, the family consisting
of Mr. Holmes, eighty years of age and extremely
feeble; his wife and daughter. Their home in Charleston had been completely demolished by the shells,
which were continually thrown into the city and Mr.
Carr invited them to stay with him until such time
,as the war should be over and they could rebuild. This
they did, and when Yankee soldiers were scouring the
state of Georgia for President Davis, they found themselves at the locked door of Mr. Carr's residence. They
-battered away at the big front, door for some time, but
the house was strong and well built and at last one of
the posse found an axe, with which he smashed the
door and they entered. Only three frightened women
were in the house and the only man was poor old Mr.
Holmes, who was at death's door with consumption.
For several hours they had expected him to pass away
but life still lingered. Entering his room they declared
they had found "Jeff Davis," dragging him by his heels
down the stairs, his head bumping on every step; utterly
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7hen We Walked in Gethsemane
unconscious, he made no moan and though his wife and
daughter begged piteously for mercy, none was shown.
Getting him in the light they soon discovered their mistake. They left him lying on the ground while they
explored the pantry and cellar, taking what they wanted
then piled up the rest and put fire to it. In the yard a
flock of ducks were feeding, these they shot to pieces,
laughing loudly when they hit the mark. After shooting the dog and the cat, they lighted a torch which they
placed under the steps. The ladies were busy with restoratives, hoping to help Mr. Holmes, so they did not
see this but a faithful servant did and extinguished the
flames, before much damage was done. Mr. Holmes
was dead before his tormentors were out of sight of
the house. When President Davis was finally captured
he was imprisoned in Fortress Monroe, to answer the
charge of "Inciting the Assassination of Lincoln." Of
this crime he was as innocent as a babe unborn.
Again we give place to the writer of the Diary that
she may tell her story in her own way.
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CHAPTER XX
LEAVES FROM THE DIARY
PRIL ioth, I865. General Lee has surrendered
the Army of Northern Virginia. Oh, I wish we
were all dead! It is as if the very earth had crumbled beneath our feet. In our minds all is chaos and confusion
and yet, outwardly there is no difference. The skies are
just as blue, the flowers just as bright, the mockingbirds are flitting in and out teaching their young ones
how to fly and tonight they will be singing just as gayly as if this crushing sorrow had not come to us.
Father walked the floor all night long, I do not know
if Mother slept but I know that not one of us went to
bed, though I fell asleep for a little while but Father's
ceaseless tramp followed me even when I slept and he is
still walking to and fro, from the front door to the
back. He does not say a word and I can see Mother
feels very uneasy. She is coming now with a cup of
coffee and I am wondering if she can get him to take
it. Father was so sure we would succeed.
April I I th, I865.-McCook's men got us after all.
About twelve o'clock today they came in sight, a long
line of blue. I don't see how I could ever have thought
the blue uniform was pretty, and yet, when we were at
Fortress Monroe, and I was a small girl, I admired
the officers so much, when they came to the Hygeia
Hotel to dance. They look ugly enough today. Mother
has never taken her treasures out of hiding and now
she is feeling so safe about them, but I do not feel safe
about myself or anything else.
April i ith, I 865.-At bed-time.  Terrible as this
is, I just had to laugh today, when Adeline walked up
to six or seven Yankee officers, who were asking for
the owner of the premises and said, "I'll show you
where de silver an' de pictures an' de likenesses uv ole
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Leaves from the Diary
Mistess an' ole Marster is hid; me an' Colonel Ashe is
got'em in uses house."
A stern-faced officer answered her, "You surely do
not know the war is over and we have our orders to
protect personal rights wherever we go.  I want to
see the owner of this place now to buy feed for our
horses."
Adeline went away abashed and we have not seen
her since though she is in the habit of coming to help
Emeline with the dishes at night, while Aunt Morea
is sick.
April I6th, I865.-We have seen no more of McCook's men. It took a long, long time for the dusty
column in blue to pass our place. The officers were
very strict with the men and did not allow them to straggle nor did they let the men come inside the enclosure
for any purpose; we were so afraid of them at first.
Aunt Sue wants me to go to spend the night with her
but I am not willing to leave the home folks just now.
This morning Father sent for all the men on the
plantation to come up in the yard. They came and they
seemed ill at ease and I wondered what Father sent
for them to do. Well, my curiosity has been gratified.
When they had filed into the back yard and stood silently around, Father said: "My people, I have sent for
you to tell you that you are my people no longer; the
fortunes of war have taken you out of my hands-you
are free men now.
"It is no longer your duty to'work for me and it is no
longer my duty to feed and clothe you but I shall continue to do this until suitable arrangements can be made.
I hope each of you will stay on at his accustomed work
and I can assure you that my feelings toward you have
known no change and will not unless you give me cause.
We are no longer master and slave but we can still be
friends."
Father's face was pale and his, voice almost gave out
27I 
Through Some Eventful Years
once but he got through it splendidly and the negroes
seemed much impressed. Some of the men cried, some
spoke regretfully, Uncle Ben came and stood near by,
then others crowded around and found their tongues.
Only two looked surly and had nothing to say, Luke and
Tup. They went off muttering to themselves, a habit
so many have. Mother says she is not going to say
anything to them, she will let events shape themselves.
Tonight Lulu came as usual to see me safe in bed
and when she had said "goodnight," she came back and,
leaning over me, she said, "I'm always goin' to love my
child," then she was gone. It makes me feel queer;
life has changed.
April I7,' I865.- We have been very miserable the
past few days. General McCook with his command
were near Thomasville when General Lee surrendered
and they pushed on to Tallahassee. Everybody knew
they were coming and some things in the Capitol were
hidden away but, just as it is in case of a fire, the most
valuable possesions were left behind and the first Yankees who reached Tallahassee helped themselves. Well,
it is what we expected.
For days the Union forces have been passing along
the Thomasville and Tallahassee road; sometimes like
well-drilled soldiers, sometimes straggling over the enclosures and entering the houses without the preliminary knock. It is very disagreeable.
Eddie is five years old now and he is a bright little
fellow with the greatest admiration for "Toldiers," as
he calls our men. This morning he was on the porch
when a Union officer walked in and took, unasked, a
seat. He had quite a pleasant face and I suppose Eddie did not know what the blue uniform betokened. The
officer held out his hand to him and said: "Come and
talk to me awhile, I have a little son at home just your
size." Eddie went across and in next to no time he was
sitting in his lap, and eagerly telling him of the events
of the past few days.
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Leaves from the Diary
"Toldier," he said, "Don't you hate the Yankees?"
"No," said the officer, "I am a Yankee, myself."
Eddie looked incredulous, he slided down to the floor,
his lip quivered, his eyes filled with tears, as he stood
before his new acquaintance.
"I am sorry I sat in your lap," he said. "I didn't
know you was a Yankee. I thought you was a Toldier."
The officer flushed angrily; "Look good, my little
man," he said, "See if you can find my horns and the
cloven feet you expected?"
But Eddie would take no notice of him. He took
refuge in his grandfather's arms and sobbed out, "I sat
in his lap and just a month ago they killed my uncle
Mac, my dear uncle Mack.   Do you think, grandpa,
that this Yankee killed him?"
The officer left the house without another word.  I
tried to comfort Eddie but found myself crying as hard
as he did. Will our losses ever be forgotten or forgiven? Can our people, North and South ever be a
united country with this bloody gulf yawning between
us? The South did not want this war.  We fought for
our rights, we resisted oppression and now we are
crushed and conquered. God help us!
There are wild tales told of the doings at Washington. I will not try to record them for, like as not, nothing we hear is true. Whether we believe or not, these
wild rumors fill us with dismay. Our own especial soldiers have not yet returned and we have not heard one
word from them since the surrender. Perhaps they will
never come. Father is heartbroken and miserable; he
cannot sleep and nobody in the house cares for food;
the meals are removed from the table almost untasted.
April ISth, I865. —There are several companies of
negro troops commanded by white officers, stationed at
Centreville only two miles away. We fear the effect
this will have on the neighboring plantations. We hear
that these troops are a part of those who came with
273 
Through Some Eventful Years
General Newton to attack Tallahassee.  Generl Newton, himself, is in command at Tallahassee.
Miss Hennie, who is anxious to get back to her home
in Memphis, went to see if she could get from him a
passport to take her across the lines. Uncle Arvah accompanied her and they were both of them astonished
and indignant at his reply:
"You are a very pretty girl Miss Winchester, give
me a kiss and I will give you the pass."
She was angry beyond the telling, and this was her
answer, "I'll die in my tracks before I would kiss you."
General Newton laughed heartily, as if it was a joke
and not an insult. "Heigh-ho little Rebel, you'll get
some of, that knocked out of you before you get to
Memphis."
Between anger and disappointment, she cried all
night. I am not going to have a word to say to any
of them. I might say too much.
April i9th, I865.-This morning at breakfast Father said, "Ten days since Lee's surrender and none of
our boys home yet."
We look for them continually but they do not come.
A miserable uncertainty hangs over us and we do not
know what to expect. Ever since I can remember Father
has been trying to teach me "self-control," as he expresses it. He is teaching me to "fight my nerves."
Mother has no nerves-so everybody says, and in these
trying days she is the mainstay of the household; we all
look to her for help and Father says I must be just like
Mother. I wish I was, she is such a comfort to us all
and I will yet conquer nervousness, which Aunt Robinson says I inherit from the Bradford side of the
house.
April Ig9th, i865.-It is bedtime and I am writing
in my own room; usually I write in the library, where
Father sits, but tonight I want to be alone. Oft I have
274 
Leaves from the Diary
repeated, perhaps repeated boastfully, those brave lines:
"I am the master of my fate;
The captain of my soul."
And now, I find I am but a broken reed, shaken by the
wind. Let me write the day's happenings while I can.
This morning we sat on the front porch watching the
road. Father sat in his big rocker and Mother sat
close beside him; Brother Amos and Sister Mag were
sitting back in the vines, playing with little Rebecca,
who was in her mother's lap. Mattie was stretched
out, full length on one of the porch seats, her beautiful golden curls falling to the floor. I sat on the steps
and Eddie was spinning acorns beside me. Sister Mart
is at Goodwood.   For several days now  the front
porch has been the favorite place for the family to sit.
Mattie is wild to see her father and she rehearses
their meeting, making it different every day.
I was watching Eddie and did not know there was
anything to see, when Father said, "There they come."
Entering the front gate, too far for my near-sighted
eyes to distinguish one from another, were three Confederate soldiers.   Poor fellows; they were pitiful.
Thin and so browned by exposure, until they were
hardly recognizable.   Footsore and weary, on they
came, Captain Bernard, stepping quicker than his companions.
\Ve rushed to greet them but Brother Junius, who
was next called out, "Do not' come near me-send Bill
to my room" and then he went rapidly away in the direction of the room which was always known as his.
Mattie burst into tears-"Papa, you are crazy," she
wailed. Cousin Johnnie came last; his face the saddest
you ever saw. Falling on the steps, he put his face in
his hands and cried like a child. Cousin Johnnie, who
of all men we knew was the most reticent and reserved.
Dear Mother always knows just what is best to do
275 
Through Some Eventful Years
and say and with her sweet words of welcome, her
inquiries after the health of each one, the hot coffee and
cakes which she has had ready day after day; all this
helped to restore the composure of all.
Jordan took Captain Bernard home and Father had
his buggy brought to the door and carried cousin Johnnie home himself. Father loves uncle Richard so dearly
and I believe his sons are almost as dear to Father as if
they were his own.
In the meantime none of us had seen Brother Junius.
Bill had made sundry trips back and forth from the
room in the yard and the kitchen; several kettles of
hot water had been transported and then Bill got a
pitch-fork and came out, bearing the clothes Brother
Junius had worn, and proceededto burn them.
An inkling of the truth must have come to Mother
for she said, "Come in the house children, Mr. Taylor
will be in after awhile."
Then Bill sent Aunt.Morea to borrow the sharpest
scissors. We did not see him until long after Father
had returned and when he did get in the house he looked
very different from the weary man whom we had caught
a fleeting glimpse of. With his golden hair cut as short
as Bill could do the work, his face clean shaven, dressed
in a suit of civilian clothes, with immaculate linen and a
white silk necktie, he was ready to be hugged and kissed
and made much of by everyone, from Mother down to
little Rebecca; though Mattie of course, came first.
She was simply wild with joy.
Mother said he should not tell one word of happenings in Virginia until he had eaten a good, hot supper.
She was right, as she always is. After supper we
gathered'round him in the library and he began by
telling us of the trying times the army had been exposed
to for weeks before the surrender; but not a soldier
made complaint and not one listened with any show of
patience, to the thought of laying down their arms.
276 
Leaves fro m  the Diary
On through the days, his story went until that fateful
9th saw the ragged remnant of the Army of Northern
Virginia drawn up in line on either side of the road, to
see their beloved Commander pass. He was mounted
on "Traveler" and a splendid new uniform added to
his fine appearance. His men cheered him all along the
line and he acknowledged their greetings. Never had
soldiers so loved a chieftain as these men in gray loved
Lee.
The army waited; sometime passed and then they
saw through unbelieving eyes, their general, riding slowly toward them. His head, usually held so proudly,
was low on his breast and not once did he raise his eyes.
He made no pause; no need for words to tell them what
had happened. When the realization came to them
those war-worn veterans wept like David, when the
news of Absalom's death was brought to him.
Gladly would they have followed him into the "jaws
of death" but this it was more than they could bear.
After an hour or so officers from General Grant came,
with an order to stack arms and prepare to deliver to
the United States authorities all army equipment. The
entire Army of Northern Virginia were prisoners of
war.
Again officers came from General Grant; these men
must make oath that they would not bear arms against
the government of the United States until such time
as they should be exchanged. Still they were not disbanded. Another officer issued paroles and told them
that a government transport would sail on the i ith
from Norfolk to Savannah. They could go to Norfolk
the next day and sail, that is as many as the transport
would accommodate. A detachment of Grant's men
went with them. The transport was old and did not
look sea-worthy but they were hustled on board, until
there was hardly standing room. They had no provisions, no money. To add to the misery of the situa
277 
Through Some Eventful Years
tion the transport was fairly alive with I. F. W.'s and
they, too, were hungry.
"This," he said, "will explain why I needed Bill and
so much soap and water. Bill burned everything I
wore, even my shoes and hat. Fortunately my trunk
was well filled with clothing. Never in all my life have
I felt so desperate, and, when those disgusting creatures
took possession of me, I completely lost my self respect."
With this he laid his head on the library table and
sobbed. Such sobs as I had never heard-dry, harsh,
choking.  The room shook with their violence.   Oh!
it was awful to see that great, strong, splendid man, so
completely unstrung. Before his story was ended Mattie had left the room and when we found her she was
doubled up on Mother's bed, and she had cried herself
to sleep.
I sit here and wonder, wonder if all the dear "men
in gray" feel as crushed and disconsolate as these? Is
the home-coming painful to them all? Will they ever
be able to forget? Will the time ever come when they
can remember the glory, the honor, the magnificent
courage they have shown, and take comfort in that?
God help them and help us all.
Tomorrow we will take up our every-day life again,
and in the little ordinary things of daily life the tension
may be loosed. I will do as Father says and try to be
like Mother.
April 22nd, I865.-Aunt Margaret is going back to
her home in Tennessee.  She had letters today telling
her General Fish had possession of her house as his
headquarters.  As soon as she can get the place she is
going back. I will miss my jolly cousins dreadfully and
Aunt Margaret too, but I know they will feel better to
be at home once more. They have been refugees for
four years and they must be tired of wandering.
Brother Junius looks more like himself. He has been
278 
Leaves fromin the Diary
to Neck-or-nothing Hall and found the plantation in
good order and his servants were so glad to see him.
His cook was loud in her denunciations of John, his
man, who deserted to the enemy a year ago.
"Dat sure is a sorry nigger," said she "ter up an'
leffen Marse Junius doubten nobody ter wait on him
nur blacken his boots."
His visit to his plantation did him good, we think.
Father has conquered himself and you would never
know how terribly he felt and must still feel, though,
he is so cheerful and so helpful to others.
April 23rd, i865.-I ought to be ashamed of myself and yet I am afraid I am not. For the first time in
all my life I have laid hands in violence upon a negro.
It happened in this way. We were sitting last night
in the back parlor, the two tallow candles did little
more than to make the darkness visible, but it was moonlight outside. Since we have been in the enemy's lines,
we feel suspicious of all unusual sounds at night and
often we have discovered listeners, under the windows
or the servants, employed about the house, have "toted
news" to the camp at Centreville. So when footsteps
were heard approaching, I looked out and saw some
twenty or more half-grown negro boys and girls. When
they reached the house they began to sing, to the tune
of "John Brown's Body," these words:
"We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
As we go marching on."
In the corner of the dining-room stood a new carriage whip, purchased that day by Jordan, who considered himself a judge of carriage whips. His mistress
had given him money that morning to buy it and this is
what he said when he brought it in, "Miss Patsy, here's
de whup, its a rale sure nuf whale-bone whup and de
lash is twisted silk."
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Through Some Eventful Years
I seized it as I passed through the dining room to
get out in the yard. The negroes were evidently expecting,to make us angry but they had not counted on
the reception they received.  I rushed in their midst
and, laying the whip about me with all the strength
I could muster, I soon had the whole crowd flying toward the Quarter, screaming as they went. One of
them screeching loudly, "She dun outen my eye," another, "Oh, Lordy-Mammy  ain't nuver laid it, on
me lak dat,.",
I would have followed up the victory but behind the
magnolia tree a dark figure was visible and I did not
know how many more there might be. It was over so
quickly that no one realized what was taking place
until the screams broke on the air. It amused the family to think for nineteen years I had lived on the plantation and never before had I struck a negro.
April 3oth, I865.-General Johnston, too, has surrendered and the last slender hope to which some of
our people were clinging, has vanished. We have lost
all save honor.
May 7th, I865.-Aunt Margaret has been busily
making her preparations for going home and yesterday
she received notice that General Fish would evacuate
her premises on the 20th of May.  So she is leaving
us tomorrow. MNost of the servants she brought with
her are going back in the same wagons they came in but
some are not willing to leave Florida.
Cousin Jim and Mr. Horton will take charge of the
train and Uncle Arvah is going as far as Tennessee, in
company with them, as he may be able to help her with
the militarv authorities at Nashville. This is the last
night they will be in Florida. We spent last night with
them at Goodwood and they sleep here tonight for
this is ten miles on their journey. Captain Oliver is
going along, too. John Branch is going. He will make
his home in Nashville.  As yet he has no plans for
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Leaves fromin the Diary
work of any kind.  We Southern people will have to
take the matter of employment into serious consideration, for the war has left us stripped of everything but
land. -
May ioth, I 865.-I felt bad over giving up the girls
but they were so happy in going. I hope we will hear
from them often. There is to be a picnic on Lake
McBride tomorrow. At first I thought I could not go
but Brother Amos says it is my duty to make things
pleasant for the dear boys, who, now that they are at
home, must be entertained, for they are, perforce, idle
for a time. Some are fortunate enough to find employment but most of them will have to wait for an opening.
So, I am going to that picnic and do my best to be amusing and entertaining; if I fail, the blame will rest on
Brother Amos.
May I I th, I865.-I went to the picnic and if I was
not entertaining nobody was so ill-mannered as to tell
me so and I can assure you I was entertained. So many
gray-coated soldiers; so much to listen to; so many
questions to be asked and answered. A delicious dinner, boat rides in the cool of the evening and then the
pleasant ride home "in the gloaming." Cousin Henry
was there and he told us of life in the prison on Johnson's Island. He was captured in the battle of Missionary Ridge and was exchanged just in time to meet
the returning soldiers from Virginia. He had a terrible
stay in prison. In the midst of plenty, they were given
only barely enough to sustain life; this in retaliation for
Andersonville. But they ought to remember we would
gladly have given those poor prisoners all they could
want if we could have gotten it. Little food; no
medicines, almost no clothing, we could not help ourselves and we should not be arraigned for that.
Cousin Henry said sometimes they got so hungry
they caught the prison rats and ate them. The prisoners vied with each other in catching the rats, just as
28I 
Through Some Eventful Years
they had in shooting deer or quail in the days of yore.
There was a dead line, just an imaginary line, but it
must not be crossed under penalty of death. One morning a large rat ran out into the open space and several
Confederates gave chase.  In the excitement one of
the men accidentally went over the "dead line." Quick
the guiard raised his gun, flash, there was one prisoner
the less on Johnson's Island that night.  War is cruel;
men grow callous. Is the spirit of Christ dying out
of the world?
May 20th, I865.-It is late at night and this has
been a perfectly horrible day.  For three days Sister
Mag has been very ill; last night death seemed very
near and this morning her dead baby was laid in a little
white casket and buried in God's Acre. She does not
know. She has known nothing for hours and the doctors
give us little hope.  Nellie and Fannie are nursing her.
She may never be conscious again. Mother and Father
do not leave her and poor Brother Amos is wretched.
Jane left this morning without bathing and dressing
Rebecca, so that job fell to my share. I usually dress
Eddie myself anyway but Rebecca is badly spoiled and it
is difficult. I coaxed them out in the flower garden and
then Mother sent me with some directions to the cook.
Now, this cook is my own Emeline, who has always
professed to love me dearly. I went to the kitchen, but
she was not there. I looked around but could not see
a single one of the servants who were generally, at that
hour, busily employed, each one, in his or her portion
of the day's work. I went on to Emeline's house
and she was standing in the middle of the floor, tying
on a sash of blue ribbon, which would complete quite
a stunning toilet. "Emeline," I said, "Sister Mag is
so sick and Mother sends the key-basket to you and
she says have a good dinner, for Dr. Betton and Dr.
Gamble will be here and she is leaving everything to
you." Imagine how I felt when she answered thus:
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Leaves from the Diary
"Take dat basket back ter your mother an' tell her
if she want any dinner she kin cook it herself."
I was hurt and dazed. I had not slept all night and
I pleaded weakly, "Don't say that Emeline, Sister
Mag is so sick, the doctors think she will die."
"Dey do? Well, what is dat ter me? I ain't make
her sick, is I?"
Silently I left her house. They are free, I thought;
free to do as they please. Never before had I had a
word of impudence from any of our black folks but
they are not ours any longer.
Retracing my steps I stopped at the laundry door;
Melissa stood beside the table ironing a snowy cloth.
"Melissa," I asked, "what has become of the other
servants?"
Slowly she raised her big brown eyes to my face, "I
thought you knowed dey wus all gone ter de meetin'
out ter Centreville, dem black soldiers, an' de white
man wid'em is sont messages ter all de folks cum ter day an denounce our freedom. He kin save heself de
trubble; I ain't no bond an''pressed slave. I ain't nuvver knowed no mother but Miss Patsy, an' she ben
mighty good ter me."
Mother did not have to cook the dinner, Adeline
saved the day and though dinner was late, it was excellent and, by the time it was served, Sister Mag was
conscious and the doctors say the danger is over. We
are so thankful.
I have learned a lesson today: we must not expect
too much of "free negroes." Nellie and Fannie could
not have acted better than they did but of all the others
on the plantation, only Melissa remained at her post
and Adeline showed so much good feeling, such true
sympathy, that I love her more than ever.
May  2ISt, I865.-We  have found out about the
gathering of negroes at Centreville yesterday.  More
than a week ago a notice was sent to all the negroes
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Through Some Eventful Years
in this and adjoining counties to come and bring well filled picnic baskets. Lieutenant Zachendorf and the
.soldiers under his command had a message to them
from the President of the United States.
When a large crowd had assembled Lieutenant Zach endorf proceeded to announce, in the name of President
Johnson, the freedom of the entire negro race. They
were told that they must show their appreciation of
the great boon bestowed upon them by refusing to work
any longer for those who had formerly held them in
slavery. He proclaimed to these poor ignorant creatures the perfect equality of the races. He told them
they were at liberty to help themselves to any property
belonging to their former owners.
"You made it," he said. "It is all yours." This is
outrageous. What the outcome may be none can know.
Already we see a change in the demeanor of those
around the house; a sullen air they have not had before.
If this goes on, and we have no way to stop it, what will
the end be?  The terrors of San Domingo rise before
our eyes.
May -, I865.-Mother has been sick with fever
for three days past and I have paid no attention to my
diary.  Last night such a mysterious stranger came to
us. I, who have the reputation of having no curiosity,
am fairly eaten up with it. Father knows but does not
tell. He says I must not write down what happened
as it might endanger our visitor. He says I must not
even put a date.
Mother's illness was severe, she does not often have
fever and we felt alarmed but she is much better this
morning, even to the extent of eating a nice little squab,
Adeline had broiled for her breakfast.
Something dreadful has happened dear Diary, I
hardly know how to tell it, my dear black mammy has
left us. I did not expect her to be the first to leave but
it was not exactly her fault. Mother did not want
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Leaves from the Diary
Hannah to go out to Centreville where all those soldiers
are encamped and when she found Lulu was dressing
her in her prettiest clothes to take her there to spend
the day, Mother told her Hannah must not go.
Lulu reminded her that they were now free and if
she saw fit to take her daughter into that crowd it was
nobody's business.
Of course that angered Mother so she said, "If you
disobey me in this matter you and your family must
leave the place."
Lulu did not believe she was in earnest and came in
as usual to attend to her duties but Mother was firm and
Lulu had to go and I am inconsolable, though I would
not have Mother to know it for the world.
I feel lost, I feel as if someone is dead in the house.
Whatever will I do without my Mammy? When she
was going she stopped on the doorstep and, shaking
her fist at Mother, she said:
"I'll miss you-the Lord knows I'll miss you-but
you'll miss me, too-you see if you don't."
Well, she is gone-I will try to wait on Mother so she
will not miss her too much. I do not think Mother
realizes they are free.
June 9th, I865.-Nellie went away today and the
parting between her and Sister Mag was pitiful. She
has nursed Eddie all his life and for three weeks now,
the three weeks Sister Mag has been so ill, she has been
almost constantly at her side, while I took care of Eddie.
He is sorely distressed but it is as nothing compared
to his mother's grief at giving her up.
Nellie knelt on the floor and put her arms about sister,
both were sobbing and both faces were wet with tears.
"I wouldn't leave you Miss Mag," she gasped out,
"but my husband says I got ter go.  He says if I don't
go with him now I shant never come and he says I
b'longs ter him now an' so I'll have ter go."
"Can't you persuade him to stay here with you, Nel
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Through Some Fventful Years
lie?" pleaded the almost heart-broken mistress, but no,
he did not like country life, he had work in the iron
foundry and would not give it up.
From the porch, just outside, Emperor Dulan's loud
voice was heard, "Come on, Nellie-I shore is tired
waiting."
He was evidently impatient and she could stay no
longer.
"God bless you, Miss Mag, God bless Marse Amos
an' de sweet chillun an', over everything else, may the
Lord bless Marse Ned an' Mis' Patsey."
Another link broken and it is only the beginning of
the end. I hope Emperor will be kinder than he sounds.
I love Nellie, myself. She has been Sister Mag's maid
for years, they grew up together, she has nursed the
children and has been friend as well as servant.
I wonder what Aunt Harriet Beecher Stowe would
think of the farewell of this morning? We were afraid
the excitement would be too much for our dear invalid,
but she is sleeping quietly; has been ever since she ate
her very light luncheon at twelve o'clock. Adeline does
not give us dinner until three o'clock, sometimes later,
but she is such a good cook that nobody feels like finding
fault with the hour.
June isth, I865.-Once more the family are every
one well and this is a truly delightful state of affairs.
Ever "sence freedom drapped," as the negroes say, we
have not been permitted to ride horseback without a
gentleman with us. Sometimes it was not convenient
to find one and often we could not go but we young
folks have determined to turn over a new leaf. We
have made up our minds to drown our troubles in a
sea of gaiety and with that end in view, we have organized a Riding Company, a Shakespeare Club, a Bezique Club and once a month a regular Dancing Party.
This party to be held at whichever home in the neighborhood wanted us most.
286 
Leaves from the Diary
The Riding Company will be commanded by Major
Henry Bradford, late of the Confederate States Army.
Being a cavalryman, he will be able to give us lessons
in the cavalry drill.
The Bezique Club is a very informal affair. We
have a handsome. imported set of Bezique and any
number can play it, but we also play any other game,
which my be desired. Sad to relate, cards are looked
upon with great disfavor in the neighborhood. Only
at Pine Hill can the Bezique Club meet. It meets just
any time the members please, the only proviso being
that the cards must be put aside before eleven o'clock.
The Club, par excellence, is the Shakespeare Club;
nobody objects to this as classical knowledge never
comes amiss. To be a student of the Bard of Avon
is a hall mark in the literary world. We have arranged
to meet every two weeks, first at one house in the Brad ford neighborhood and next and next, until the round
has been made. The various housekeepers have volun teered to provide a fine supper for the Shakespeare
Club at all their meetings.
Here is a secret, to be told to none, just yet; the
Bezique Club will have suppers provided, too; not only
on stated nights, but whenever they chance to meet.
Father and Mother are the very most indulgent parents
in the world.
June I17th, I865.-We had our first riding lesson
yesterday and we had quite a respectable company,
fifteen young ladies and as many gentlemen. Best of
all, they, the gentlemen, came dressed in our beloved
gray. We are so proud of the Confederate Army and
we love the gray uniform. We love and reverence our
captive President; we place the name of Jefferson Davis
at the head of all martyred heroes. Our hearts throb
with pride when we think of General Robert E. L,ee
and we love every officer and every man who served
under him.  We love, and we admire the courage of the
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Through Some Eventful Years
Army of the West, which so stubbornly and so hopelessly, fought Sherman, inch by inch, in his hateful "March
to the Sea" and now, an insult has been offered these
"heroes of the gray."
These men have given their parole and a Southerner's word of honor means everything to him and
yet, afraid of men they have conquered; afraid of the
men whose sworn promise they hold, an order comes
from headquarters, that Confederate soldiers, both officers and privates, must remove from their uniforms
all brass buttons and every insignia of rank.
At first, I have been told, it was the intention of the
military to order the gray uniform to be discarded,
but realizing that many of these men had nothing else
to wear, this present order was issued. The cowards!
They ought to be ashamed of themselves!
This piece of news quite spoiled the riding for me.
I wonder if the time will ever come when I can take
insults coolly?
Cousin Henry's uniform, which he wore this afternoon, is right new, uncle Tom having ordered it by a
blockade-runner, when Cousin Henry was in prison at
Johnson's Island. It is a magnificent suit of French
broadcloth and he is so handsome in it; now he must
"remove or cover all buttons and all insignia of rank."
Isn't it a pity?
I have to go to town tomorrow. Father does not
feel well enough to go and he has some business which
needs attention. Of course Mother could do all that,
but she insists that she will never go again to Tallahassee until the last Yankee soldier is gone.
June I8th, I865.-I went to town today, arranged
the business for which I went and also saw something
that made my blood boil. As Sister Mart and I sat
in the carriage in front of Uncle Arvah's store, Church
Croom came to speak to us. From his uniform every
button had been cut and replaced by large orange
288 
Leaves from the Diary
thorns.  Being a private soldier, there was nothing
else our conquerors found objectionable. I was peril  ously near tears when cousin Henry came, wearing
the splendid new uniform of the day before. Over the
Major's star on his collar, the thinnest of crape had been
sewed; the chevrons on the sleeves were covered with
the same material; the buttons, too, were wearing
mourning.
Lieutenant Eppes came next. The gold lace had been
ripped from collar and sleeves; the buttons were cov ered with black bombazine, but where the braid had
been removed, the unfaded gray showed his rank as
plainly as ever.
We saw many others during the day who had obeyed
this order from headquarters, an order which has re flected no credit on the powers that be but has only
served to make them ridiculous. This striking a man
when he is down is despicable in my mind. Sister Mart
is at home for a few days, she dined at Goodwood to
meet General Scammon. HIe is the brother of our Miss
Scammon whom we loved so dearly when she was our
governess. He told Sister Mart that his sister would
never allow a word to be said in her presence derogatorv to the South.
"She is a Copper-head, regardless of the color of her
hair," he said.  "It is universally admitted that red
hair denotes temper, and you should see her blaze whenever the Southern people were scored, as of course, they
often were."
Aunt Sue had invited all the family to meet him but
Father was not well enough to leave home and Mother
positively refused to go. I am still hiding behind my
youth, for the entire household looks upon me as a
child, in spite of my nineteen years; in accordance with
that belief I am excused from some things and, I am
afraid, terribly spoiled in others. The advantages of
being the youngest of nine sisters far out-weighs the
disadvantages of the situation.
289 
Through Some Eventful Years
June 2ISt, I865.-We held our first meeting of the
Shakespeare Club last night, the play selected is, "The
Merchant of Venice." The parts have been assigned
and practice will begin immediately. The meeting was
held here and we had a fine supper and, after much
persuasion, Mother played for us to dance, the first
time we have danced since that dreadful 9th of April,
but we have agreed to try the cheerful role for a while.
The Club will meet on the 4th of July at Greenwood.
I am reading poetry with Father now. The reading
was so very dry last winter that the thought of poetry
is delightful. I love it and Mother does, too. She
likes me to repeat verses and I have learned nearly all
of Scott's poems by heart. I can repeat Spencer's Faery
Queen, Cowper's Task and nearly all of Pollock's
Course of Time; but I do not like this last one. It is so
horrible that I sometimes dream of the hands reaching
out of the gloom and the anguished voices crying for
help, while the accusing words fill the air about them:
"Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."
Last winter we read Rollins' Ancient History, the
paper was yellow and the print bad, the contents was
interesting but dry. I had just finished Josephus when
I undertook Rollins and I really feel as if I have had
a surfeit of historical lore.
I have not been allowed to even take Byron down
from the top shelf, where the seven beautiful little
volumes sit. Father, however, seems to know a great
deal of Byron, for he sometimes repeats portions of
his poems to me. What I have heard I like very much,
perhaps I can read it all some day. While I have read
Shakespeare it has been under protest, but Miss Diamer
insisted we must read it when she was governess; now
we will have to re-read it in order to keep up with the
other members of the club. We had a meeting of the
Bezique Club last night, and played-whist.
June 24th, I865.-Mid-summer day. I long to go
290 
Leaves from the Diary
to the woods, down to the "Fairy Dell," where the wonderful spring is bubbling musically and little Mabel is
filling her pitcher with the sparkling waters. I seem
to hear my sweet sister's voice again as she pressed me
to her side and repeated,
"'Tis good to make all duty sweet,
To be alert and kind,
'Tis good, like little Mabel,
To have a willing mind."
I cannot go to the Fairy Spring, however, it is a full
half mile from the house and even our own woods are
no longer safe from intrusion. The negro soldiers are
everywhere. We are spied upon by our own servants
at every turn and so we do not feel safe to get out of
hearing of the rest of the family, unattended.
Though the war is over we have not replenished our
wardrobes; this for the good and sufficient reason that
we have no money, something new to us. Never before
have we known the lack of it. Indeed, in the days of
the Southern Confederacy we had it in such quantities
that it has been said by some wag: "In days gone by, the
Southerner went to town with his pocket full of money
and took along a wagon to take his purchases home; in
these war times, he takes a wagon load of money to
town and brings back his goods in his pocket." Well,
we will get used to it after a while.
But to go back to the scant wardrobe. When the
Club meets we like to look as brother Junius says, "As
pretty as pinks," and, with that end in view, I have been
hard at work remodeling a dress. It is of white Paris
muslin, trimmed with baby ribbon in a pale shade of
blue. Again Sister Mag has come to the rescue and has
lent me a lovely white sash, edged with picots of blue,
which exactly matches my ribbon. A lucky girl, am I
not? Will I look pretty in it, little Diary?
July 4th, I865.-Never in all my life have I known
29I 
Through Some Eventful Years
a Fourth of July, which did not mean a frolic for both
white and black. Today there is no barbecue. We are
not going to listen to spread-eagle oratory of the Glorious Fourth. To be sure we have not observed this
ceremonial during the four years of war, but in days
gone by we were most particular to observe the day.
I wonder what the negroes think of this change of
program? I would like to know how they are spending
the day? I haven't much time for such speculations, for
Josie Evans is spending the summer with us and I love
to be in her company. She is a delightful companion
and a veritable star in all social gatherings. She has
a marvellously beautiful, sweet and powerful voice and
she has made a study of music. It was her intention to
go on the stage but her mother would not permit it. I
am sorry, for she would be wonderful on the stage, she
has just the pose of an actress and her fine figure and
graceful bearing would make for success. Isn't it strange
that appearance means so much? She is a fine elocutionist and her reading tonight will be well worth listening
to.
July 5th, I865.-We had a grand time at Greenwood last night. The Shakespeare Club is the most
entertaining mode of amusement I ever tried. I had a
sore throat and could not read so my part was given
to one of the other girls, Nora Holland, it was. That
being the case I had a better opportunity of judging
the rest. Most of the readers did remarkably well;
all were educated and all were more of less accomplished, and well-read. The readers made a pretty picture
as they sat around the big kerosene lamps which were a
new acquisition in the Holland household, for four
years we have had lights of domestic manufacture only,
so these looked quite grand.
I sat in an open window and listened and looked, but
I fear my attention was somewhat distracted from the
subject in hand, because, just outside, on the porch,
292 
Leaves from the Diary
some one was kneeling, talking of far different matters.
Having heard that the next meeting would be held at
Uncle Tom's we adjourned for supper. Cousin Peggy
is a famous housekeeper and this was a fair sample of
her skill. It has been a long time since the southern
housekeeper felt that she could be spared from the camp
and the hospital for entertainments, but our soldiers
are at home now and we must give them the very best
wve have.
Tuly 6th, I8S65.-Something disagreeable happened
today. The Riding class was to meet at Hattie's and we
were going around Lake Iamonia, and as the distance
was longer than our rides usually are, we had to make
an earlier start.
At four o'clock Cousin Lizzie and I were leaving the
grove by the big front gate, which opens on the Thomasville road. "Rebel," the pony I was riding, has an ugly
trick of backing and kicking, if a noise alarms him, and
just as we were riding through the gate Lieutenant
Zachendorf and a squad of his men came riding past.
Their accoutrements made a jingling noise, which offended "Rebel's" ears and he immediately backed toward the soldiers, kicking with all his might, his heels
fairly flying. I could do nothing with him; he paid no
attention to either rein or whip and orders were of no
avail. I was in despair. Lieutenant Zachendorf halted
his squad and ordered me to "Stop that Devil." I explained that I could not manage him and they rode
away, after telling me if it ever happened again he
would have me arrested and tried before his court. We
went on to Captain Lester's house, where we joined the
party but I did not enjoy the afternoon. I think I shall
have to stay at home hereafter.
July 8th, I865.-Things go from bad to worse. Father has been sick for several days; not very sick at first,
but he grew worse and yesterday and today we have felt
uneasy about him and our doctor brother has been with
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Through Some Eventful Years
him until this morning.  Mother's room never looked
cleaner or cooler, or daintier than it did today. Father's
room opens into hers and everything, in both rooms,,
except the mahogany furniture was white. These apartments were always clothed in the crispest, snowiest of
draperies during the summer months; even the cushioned chairs wore white dresses in summer.
Father was sleeping, Mother sat reading her Bible by
the west window. Into this pure and peaceful atmnosphere walked Peggy, unkempt, unwashed, dirty and disgusting beyond description.
Mother looked up from her Bible and asked, "What
can I do for you Peggy?" I was arranging a bowl of
roses out in the hall and hearing voices, came into the
room.
"I is jis' kum fur a visit Miss Patsey," and, with that,
she came forward and seated herself in one of the large,
white-cushioned rockers.
"Get up Peggy," said Mother, but Peggy tossed her
knotty head.
"I ain't agwine ter git up. De ladies what kums here
sets in dese cheers an' I is jis' as good as dey is."
What a picture she made, leaning back, her dirty
head making dirty prints on the chair cover, her scaley
feet stuck straight out before her and the most impudent
expression on her black face that you ever saw.
Mv diary, I was so angry I could scarcely see.  I
fear I am not of much use in an emergency but Sister
Mart is and she rose quickly to the occasion. Calling
Bill and Fannie to help her, she forced Peggy to leave
the house.
We thought the incident was disposed of, but no,
Peggy went straightway to Centreville and reported to
the military authorities that "Miss Patsey done gie me
a insult."
Finding that she really had been forcibly ejected
from the house, they sent an orderly with a note saying
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Leaves from the Diary
Mother must apologize at once to Peggy or she would
be arrested at twelve o'clock on the following day and
tried before the court presided over by Lieutenant Zachendorf. These may not be the words he used but I am
giving the gist of the note.
Father was too ill to tell him of it, and Mother does
not think anything will be done but we are terribly
anxious. Sister Mart has made a plan, which I hope
will prove to be the right thing. She has bound me over
to secrecy and she and Jordan and Fannie have had a
confidential talk. Early in the morning Jordan is to have
the carriage at the door and Fannie will be in readiness
to accompany Sister Mart to Tallahassee to interview
General Foster. She will get Uncle Arvah to go with
her to call on the general. She will hurry back and I
must keep mother in good heart until she gets home.
July 9th, I865.-Our troubles are over, hurrah for
Genera Foster! Sister Mart and Uncle Arvah made
General Foster an early visit. She went in much trepidation, for she had not been quite civil when she met
him at Goodwood. IHe had offered her his hand in
greeting and she had drawn back, putting her hands
behind her and saying, "Please excuse me."'
She told him what had happened; she described Peggy; she told of our indignation, of Father's serious illness and of the constant difficulty of life on the plantation.
General Foster listened attentively as she talked;
then he said, "I will give you a guard for your premises,
Miss Bradford; a sergeant and one man, will, I think,
be sufficient. I shall also give you an order to Lieutenant Zachendorf and this order Sergeant Cornell will
deliver in person.
"Your guard will be instructed to attend to all plantation affairs and all I ask of you is that they be fed
and housed and that they be given the freedom of the
premises."
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Through Some Eventful Years
Sister Mart was delighted.  She is very impulsive and
extended her hand to General Foster.
"General," she said, "the last time we met I refused
to shake hands with you, now I ask the privilege."
It is a piece of merciful consideration for us and we
cannot thank him enough. I have not seen him for I
stay rather close at home.
When Sister Mart got back from town, we had not
yet left the breakfast table. She entered the room, followNed by two soldiers in blue uniforms. I thought they
had come to arrest Mother and my heart stood still.
What a relief it was when the situation was explained.
Sergeant Cornell took the order to Centreville and we
have heard nothing more of the arrest for "impertinence to Peggy." We will sleep better tonight.
July ioth, I865.-We have always had a late breakfast; early this morning Adeline, who usually has a
second nap before she comes to the kitchen to get breakfast, woke us all to tell us she had orders from "dem
sojers" to have breakfast ready in ten minutes. There
was some hurrying, you may be sure, but even so we
were not in time, Mother being the only member of the
family to put in an appearance. We'll do better tomorrow.
Ever "sence freedom drapped," we have had trouble
with the milkers. The cows would be left standing for
hours, and we would not have fresh milk for the morning's meal.  The poor little calves would call mournfully for their mothers, until some one of the household would turn them together. Of course, at such
times we had no milk. Today Pat elected to leave the
cows and calves to shift for themselves, but it did not
work. Cornell and Hibell came in, each with a foaming pail of milk and, not even looking towards us, said
in a gruff voice, "Strain it, and put it up." This is
something I know all about for "Granny Vi'let's" spotless dairy was ever an attractive place to me. I sup
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Leaves from the Diary
pose we are to obey the guard also. Pat got her deserts,
but I am a wee bit sorry for her.
Father has found out that we have two Union soldiers on the plantation and he is glad they are here.
He is too ill to manage the negroes himself.
August 5th, I865.-I have very little time for writing these days; not that there is so much work to do, our
hands seem almost empty now that the war is over. We
must try to make up to our soldiers for the years of
hardship and privation. We have company nearly all
the time and Mother makes ready for them as cheerfully
as ever. Aunt Morea and Adeline have orders to serve
a bountiful supper every night.
The way this order came about was very amusing.
In the neighborhood, about seven miles away, a youthful uncle, with six nephews, were keeping bachelor's
hall; they were frequent callers and often spent the
evening. One night they were announced while we were
at supper. Mother went into the parlor and invited
them to join us.
"Thank you, Mrs. Bradford," spoke up six of them,
almost simultaneously, "we have had our supper."
The seventh one, who was really better acquainted
than the others, said, "Mrs. Bradford, they may have
eaten supper but I am a guest in the house and they
did not give me any, so if I may, I will gladly accept
your invitation."
It was a laughing crowd Mother ushered into the
dining room and, on leaving, they were given to understand that supper waited their pleasure any, or every
night.
It is not the fault of these boys that they are idle.
After four years of war, they came home to find an absolutely demoralized business world and until conditions change, they cannot hope to find positions. Of
course those who have homes can find employment of
a sort, but some, like these boys of whom I write, are
far from home.
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Through Some Eventful Years
There is another family only two miles distant. Dr.
Burroughs was a surgeon in the army and when his
family fled before the enemy, who were bombarding
their home in Savannah, he rented this place for his wife
and babies. Under such conditions they did not have
much of comfort around them and, when Dr. Burroughs
came after the surrender, he brought with him four
young soldier brothers, who brought with them only
the clothes they wore and these very much the worse
for the wear.
They were very cheerful over it and the doctor kindly
shared his scant wardrobe with them, but unfortunately,
the youngest one was tall and large, while the doctor
was equally small. The clothes just would not either
stretch or grow and poor Charley was disconsolate
until a kind friend stepped in to the rescue, with a fullsized suit. These boys are also frequent visitors and
one and all were made welcome at Pine Hill; so, little
Diary, you see why it is necessary to have plentiful suppers. Mother says, "Boys love good things to eat,"
and I am sure she is right. Let them have a good time
while they can, there is work, hard work before us all
if the South is to be salvaged.
These are serious days and there is much food for
thought; but we cannot always be sad and wear a long
face. We must cheer these soldiers of the Confederacy
who have so many battles ahead of them. A hand to
hand fight with poverty.is no joke and that is what is
staring us Southerners starkly in the face in the near
future. Even so we will be merry while we may.
October 3ist, i865.-All this time I have dressed
as a school girl. In the time of war we did not make any
effort to follow fashion, just so we had a dress, it really
mattered very little to what age it properly belonged.
If it was suitable and becoming, so much the better, but
no one offered criticism of another's dress; we simply
wore what we could get. Now it seems to be different;
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Leaves from the Diary
I am actually grown up, though they say I do not look
it, and now that Sister Mart is to be married in Decem ber, I shall be "Miss Bradford" and must dress accord ingly.
Father ordered some things from New York and
Mother has had some dresses with trains made for me,,
and Uncle Arvah will select a cloak and bring with him,
when he comes, bringing his winter stock of goods. Of
course I felt somewhat elated over these new posses sions but I do not know if I like the idea of giving up
my free and happy childhood.
November 7th, I865.-Boxes from Smallwood &
Earle have arrived in Tallahassee. Uncle Arvah, too,
has gotten back home and I am on the qui vive for a
sight of my new belongings. The wagon went to town
this morning to bring the boxes out. Sister Mart is more
excited over this event than I am, for some of her wedding clothes, her trousseau, or a part of it, is contained
therein.
November 8th, I865.-Well, the contents of the
various boxes have been inspected and proven to be
satisfactory. Sister Mart has a lovely dress of Marie
Louise silk, beautifully made and the filmy laces look
just like a bride. All my things are beautiful, I have
congress gaiters to match every dress, laces of various
kinds and I am the proud possessor of a dozen pairs of
"Jouvains" kid gloves. I just love kid gloves! Mother
took each pair from the box and put my initials inside
and when I asked what that was for, she said it was.
to keep me from giving them away. Miss Stevenson
has made me a hat, which she sent out on the wagon. It
is pretty and the next time I go to town I shall wear
what Brother Amos calls my "young lady togs."
November I sth, I865.-Of course, I have always
known that it is the custom in the South for girls, when
they put up their hair and put on long dresses, to be
addressed by gentlemen, not related, by the title of
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Through Some Eventful Years
"Miss."  I knew this but I never thought of this formality coming my way. This morning, when I appeared
on the street, in a sweeping train, etc., etc., and met my
dear old friend, Mr. Mariano Papy, I was really
shocked to have him bow formally and address little
me as "Miss Susie." He then went on to pay some
graceful compliments, which is just a way he has, but
I could not help protesting against the change. Mr.
Papy was Grandpa's private secretary and was living at
Live Oak, when I was born. He has carried me in his
arms in baby days and sung me to sleep.  I meet him
nearly every time I am in town and he has never called
me anything but "Susie."
I called on Mrs. Papy before leaving town and confided my hurt feelings to her, this is what she said:
"Our little girl should not have grown up if she feels
this way; there is nothing else to be done; you have
and always will have, a warm corner, all your own, in
Mr. Papy's heart, but, my dear child, conventionalities
must be observed as the good of society demands it."
Perhaps she is right but I do hope Mr. Blake will not
feel called upon to follow suit. When I told Father
and Mother about Mr. Papy, Mother said it was all as
it should be and father laughed and said, "We must all
pay the penalty of mature age."
I do not believe my family will ever think of me as
-anything but a baby.
THE OLD, SOUTH DIED HARD
When General Lee surrendered at Appomattox,
the Southern people were crushed by the unexpected
blow.   Pampered  children  of  luxury,  they were;
never had they been accustomed to poverty or labor
and now both stared them in the face.  But the days
rolled by and the negroes remained, for the most part,
on the plantations, which they had known as "home."
:So long as these stayed in their accustomed places, they
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Leaves from the Diary
did the work which had hitherto fallen to them. It is
true they were free, but perhaps it was not so bad after
all.
The domestic machinery moved smoothly. Generally speaking, the negro, except in a few instances, had
not changed perceptibly in his manner to the white folks.
While he took his time on all his jobs, he had also been
slow in slavery days. The master sat on the porch and
gave his orders as of yore; the mistress of the household still left much to her cook, her housekeeper and
her maids.
The whole country was under martial law and some
men were arrested and tried by this court and punished
more or less severely; but these men had offended in
some way; it was easy to see why they fell under the
ban. But gradually the eyes of this Old South were
opened; changes showed up. N,o longer was a cheerful, smiling obedience rendered-the "carpetbaggers"
swarmed like a flock of vultures to feast on the little
the war had left. Their influence upon the negro was
very bad; had he been left to map out for himself the
new life of freedom, much of evil would have been
averted, but it was the ultimate intention of these carpetbaggers to pit the two races against each other.
So long as the negro of slavery days loved his former
master; while the ex-master loved the ex-slave, nothing
could be done by this dirty rabble that had swooped
down upon us,'-'seeking whom they may devour." This
love and confidence must be destroyed ere they could
work their will.
We chanced to be on a visit to friends in Georgia,
hospitable folks they were and in palmy days their
wealth had equaled their hospitality. At this time, the
summer of eighteen-hundred and sixty-five, they had
not realized the change, which had come to the Southland, and money continued to flow like water. In nothing else was this lavish expenditure shown more plainly
30I 
Through Some Eventful Years
than in the gifts, which were continually showered upon
their servants, who were never slow in asking for what
they wanted. The cook, Penny, was especially gifted
as a beggar and we never knew her to be refused.
One morning the party planned a trip for the following day to the famous Blue Spring, near Albany.
To spend the day there, it would be necessary to make
.an early start, so the cook was called in and, after some
directions had been given her as to the provision to
be made for a picnic dinner, she was told to have breakfast on the table at seven o'clock, sharp. She said nothing and looked anything but amiable but no notice was
taken of this. We rose early next morning, eager to be
on our way in the cool hours of the morning, but there
was no breakfast, no cook, no lunch. The carriages
stood ready at the gate, the other servants had done
their parts. The head of the house was furious; he
had yet to become accustomed to insolent disobedience.
He called the cook and we heard for the first time,
what a friend calls "A flow of Sunday School talk." We
had been carefully reared and we were shocked. Recalled to his senses by his wife's hand upon his arm,
our host apologized.
Falling, unconsciously, into plantation vernacular, he
exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but free niggers would
make an angel cuss." Our expedition was postponed
for another time and the cook departed for an adjoining state in search of "greener fields and pastures new."l
We Southern people have yet to learn the dignity
of labor. The remark made by the little son of our
host, as we rode along through a stretch of "piney
woods," where but few negroes could be seen, indicates
this. He is only four years old, this little boy, and in
his short life he had never seen a white man ploughing.
Passing a clearing in the pines, where corn was growing
and being ploughed he cried out excitedly, "Look, look,
see de marster working in de field."
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Leaves from the Diary
Do not think, however, that we were slow in learning,
on the contrary we took a genuine pride in doing well
these tasks to which we had hitherto been unaccustomed.
No complimentary notice, no acquired accomplishment,
no anything in life ever inspired in our breast the pride
and the pleasure that was ours, when, after many failures, (carefully hidden) we could, at last, prepare a delicious meal, to partake of which we could feel satisfied
to invite our family.
Yes, there is no denying the fact that,
"We can live without poetry, music and art,
WVe can live without love, we can live without heart,
We can live without learning, live without books,
But civilized man cannot live without cooks."
It requires time and patience, it requires thought but
success in the culinary and gastronomical field is worth
the effort. As the year wore on, instances such as we
have related grew more and more frequent; the negroes
enjoyed hugely the taking of some grievance, (sometimes real but oftener imaginary) to the military authorities at Centreville. After we found the "open sesame" to Lieutenant Zachendorf's judgment, we had
but little trouble at his hands.  "Money makes the
mare go," it is said and money certainly appealed to
Lieutenant Zachendorf. In the household at Pine Hill,
nothing of this nature occurred, while the guard remained on duty, they were faithful to the trust reposed
in them and we were careful to treat them with the same
polite consideration which was shown to any stranger
guest. To say we were made more comfortable by
their presence is to put it mildly, so smoothly did outof-doors life move on, that we hardly missed the power
to command, which had once been ours.
In December there was a wedding at Pine Hill, Martha, next to the youngest daughter and Captain Patrick
Houstoun, ex-Confederate, married and left the old
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Through Soime Eventful Years
home. The bride was beautiful. In her dress and veil
of "illusion" she looked like "the Snow Maiden" of
fairy lore, as she came slowly forth, to meet the waiting groom. Her veil was not falling from the traditional orange blossoms but was held in place by a
double white japonica, on one side, and a magnificent
cross of diamonds on the other.
As Bishop Rutledge pronounced the solemn words,
which made them man and wife, the silence was absolute, then pandemonium broke loose in the yard
around the house. Howls of rage, shrieks of derisive
laughter; hoarse exclamations. "Hell broke loose," said
one of the guards. For days previous, it had been whispered among the negroes that on the night of the wedding, they would force an entrance and mingle with the
guests on terms of equality and but for General Foster's
kindness, they would have succeeded and the result
would have been bloodshed.
If the whole Army of Occupation had been like General Foster and his "regulars" it would have been far
better. In command of the guard was Lieutenant Coolidge, a slender stripling he was, straight as an arrow
in his blue uniform, but in his young face were the marks
which, wherever seen, betoken manliness and courage.
Nay, more, Dame Nature had set her own seal upon
him that all might see: "There is a gentleman."
This sign manual of Nature is a singular thing, and
looking back, you find in almost every instance, "une
raison d'etre." We found out after a while the why in
this case. The young officer bore himself with such
composure and dignity, in what must have been a very
trying position, that he won the respect of all.
Protected by crossed bayonets, in the hands of bluecoated soldiers stationed at every entrance, the festivities went on as usual and we still feel grateful.
As the year neared its close the Freedman's Bureau
sent representatives to every plantation and farm
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Leaves from the Diary
throughout the country to divide the crops and settle
accounts.  The plan by which these settlements were
made originated with our conquerors. We have never
known just how it was done but we could not influence
the division and we were greatly surprised to find the
planters really received more than they had expected.
The negroes were not satisfied; many of them complained bitterly.
During these months that Zachendorf had reigned
at Centreville, the negroes had a habit of digging up
all kinds of grievances. We have mentioned this before, but we must tell of something which this procedure on the part of the negro brought about.
In the Bradford neighborhood, in fact in the adjoining neighborhood known as the Pisgah neighborhood,
the only people who could possibly have been looked
upon as objects of charity were the Kane and the McPherson families.  Mrs. Kane was a widow with "three
sets of twins and several singles," as she would tell you.
Mrs. McPherson was her mother and she had two sisters and they lived in cottages built by the neighbors,
very near each other. They did little or no work, and
the neighbors vied with one another in supplying their
wants. Captain Lester was one of the wealthiest planters in the community; he was a giant in stature, with a
heart as large as his body. For years he had made it
a part of his week's work to send to this family a quarter
of beef. Now the beef which came from Captain ILester's was famous throughout the neighborhood for its
fine condition and its size; the captain did not butcher
veal.
The surrender did not cut off Mrs. Kane's supply of
fresh meat and regularly each Tuesday the quarter of
beef found its way to her door. She had watched with
envy the constant stream of darkies coming and going
from the camp; her cottage was on this road and it was
not far to the camp; digging and delving in her scant
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Through Some Eventful Years
brain she finally rose triumphant; she would go to Lieutenant Zachendorf and complain of Captain ILester.
Just what her complaint should be she had not yet decided but it must be something about the beef.
Dressed in black calico, with a slatted bonnet of the
same material, she went bright and early to camp; she
was taken before the reigning monarch and questioned
by him as to the cause of her visit.
"I cum ter tell you Mister Sackadog," said she, "what
a stingy man Cappen Lester is."'
"How's that?" asked the monarch.
"You see, Mister Sackadog, I got three sets er twins
an seven singles an' my Ma an' my two sisters an' we
all gotter eat, an' dat man sont beef ter my house dis
morning an' it ain't enuf ter go'round."
"How much is it?" asked Zachendorf.
"Hit ain't but jis' one quarter."
"Do you mean a whole quarter of beef or is it veal?"
asked the lieutenant.
"No, I ain't a-meanin' calf meat, hits a cow," she
replied.
"Well," said the officer, "you take that quarter of
beef back to Captain Lester and tell him from me never
to waste his kindness on you again." She stood still and
then realizing dimly what he meant, she began to whimper.
"Shut up," he said. "Begone out of my sight and
don't you ever come here with any of your d      n nonsense again."
She retraced her steps and, if it had been left to her,
it possibly might not have gotten out, but the negroes
all hate "po white trash" and it was a fine joke to them.
A feeling of deep-seated unrest pervaded the whole
South, none knew what was in store for us.  President
Davis, whom we loved so dearly, had been imprisoned
in Fortress Monroe and we were kept in distress all
the time because of the cruel treatment he had to un
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Leaves from the Diary
dergo. A sufferer for years from neuralgia, which had
settled in his eyes, his captors conceived the idea of
adding to his suffering by having a sentry pass his open
door every half hour during the night and throw into
his face at each passing, the rays of a strong lantern,
thus torturing his poor eyes by flashing the light into
them and also waking him, if perchance he slept. Mrs.
Davis writes that when she hung her shawl upon a chair
and placed it between the President and the door, she
was ordered to take it down. Dr. Craven tried to get
General Miles to show some mercy but he would not listen. We were sad over this and such inhumanity kept
alive the hatred engendered by the four years of warfare.
How can we love our enemies, when they continually
torment us? It was a sad, sad Christmas in the South.
So many vacant chairs, so many cruel changes and yet,
there was never so much "marrying and giving in marriage" as now. What will the New Year bring us?
LEAVES FROM THE DIARY
December i 8th, I 8 65.I thought I would be lonely
beyond description when Sister Mart got married.  It
happened five days ago and I have not had time even to
think. Weddings, like funerals, call together kindred
and friends.
There was a big wedding; the bride was beautiful;
friends flocked from far and near to Pine Hill; the
supper was all a supper should be and champagne flowed
like water. Again I say, at my wedding there shall be
nothing but "Adam's ale" to drink.
The next night Sallie Ward was married and I was
a bridesmaid at her wedding too. It was a church affair,
the bridal party, that is the attendants, went to the
church in an omnibus. Did you ever hear of such a
thing? The bride and the groom went in a carriage but
I am sure we had the most fun.
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Through Some Eventful Years
I have been to a big entertainment of some kind every
night since Sister Mart was married except the I7th,
which was Sunday. Doesn't the Bible tell us we must
rest on Sunday?
Tonight Aunt Sue is giving a large party; "the gem
of the season," we say, for everybody knows the entertainments at Goodwood are not quite equalled anywhere else. There is one thing about this particular
party that I dread; uncle Arvah has invited General Foster and his family and the officers in his command. I see
Uncle Arvah's side and he is right, but it will be painful
to meet our conquerors. So far I have met only one and
I cannot hope they will all be like him. To meet these
blue-coats socially! Will I have the strength of mind
to do it? Not much time for you my diary.
It is not difficult to get a dress now, but there are a
thousand and one things to get through before tonight.
Aunt Sue likes to have help in arranging flowers in the
different rooms and the table in the dining room, which
she has already dressed, is a dream of beauty.
December I9th, I865.-The party was splendid in
spite of the -, there now,  I came  near writing
Yankees, and I promised myself I would never say that
again, after General Foster's kindness. General Foster
sent his band to play for us to dance. I had so many
of my old friends around, I had not a single vacant
space on my card but I saw Sister Mart dancing with
Major Conant.
I know I will be lonely enough after Sister Mart has
really gone. I am the only one left to Father and
Mother. Josie Evans is Mattie's governess this winter, so I still have company at home.'I do not like to
entertain young gentlemen by myself, I am afraid they
will find it stupid, but Josie is very bright and entertaining. Then, too, she sings delightfully. She was
here tonight. She was one of the bridesmaids so she
just had to be present, school or no school.
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Leaves from the Diary
Father is nearly well again and he gave the bride
away. We had been afraid he would not be well enough
and he looked so handsome in his new dress suit ordered
from New York for the occasion. Mother had a new
silk, too, and the New York dressmaker fitted her
beautifully. She had not made a dress for Mother for
more than four years yet she had not forgotten how.
December 27th, I865.-Christmas has passed and
gone. I shall not try to tell of it; there is too much
of pain and sorrow; too much of loss and change to wish
to place it on record. No matter how hard we try to
be cheerful, the heavy heart is there just the same. We
did not invite company for Christmas; of course, our
own family were here. Buddy and his wife and children,
Brother Junius and Sister Mag and Brother Amos and
the dear little ones. They were the only ones who enjoyed Christmas, though all tried to enter into the spirit
of the day.
January Ist, I866.-A New Year but a Happy New
Year? No, indeed. We got up this morning to find
ourselves the only occupants of Pine Hill plantation.
It was a clean sweep, all were gone. Nobody to get
breakfast; nobody to clean up the house; no maids to
look after the wants of "milady;" no butler to serve
the meals; no carriage-driver if we should care to ride.
Not a servant, not one and we unused to work.
It is night now. Aunt Robinson taught me to make
up beds long ago, when she took me to sleep in her room,
so we have each of us a neat bed to rest in. Mother
said she could mix muffins if somebody would bake
them. Father offered to make the coffee, that being
his specialty and Mattie said she would eat some when
it was done and John Branch, who had spent the night
here, stretched himself and said, "I'll saddle the pony
and go to town." We did not ask him to stay, though
I thought he might have brought in some wood as it was
low in the wood-boxes.
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Through Some Eventful Years
I am tired tired tonight, will all the days of the
year be like this one? What are we going to do without the negroes? Will we have to do these manifold
duties for ourselves? Or can we hire white servants
as they do at the North? I wonder where the negroes
have gone, and why did they not tell us they were going?
Life is a puzzle sometimes.
January 2nd, I866. -I have slept well and I feel
decidedly better. I am not going to fret because the
negroes are gone, nor will I bother my brains as to their
whereabouts. I am going to learn to do all these things
that need doing and bye and bye I shall do them well.
I baked some corn bread for breakfast; batter bread,
it was, with eggs and milk.  We had plenty of butter
to eat with it, then I boiled some eggs and father made
the coffee, drip coffee is very little trouble to make when
you have boiling water and I put a kettle on the fire
the first thing when the fire was made.
This, I find is my stumbling block, I am the poorest
hand at making a fire. "Make a note of that and improve," said I to myself. I cannot milk a cow, neither
can anyone else in the house. I think I shall have to
hunt me a good milker and get married. Father just
lives on milk. Boiled eggs for dinner again and more
batter bread. The menu in this house seems to know
no change. Supper is yet to come. What shall it be?
January 8th, i 866.-This is Aunt Sue's birthday and
she has invited us to spend it with her. We accepted
with pleasure. It is the first time I can remember that
she did not spend her birthday with us, but we have no
servants.  Mrs. James sends milk for Father every
night and morning. She, (fortunate woman) can milk
her own cow. I fear I could never learn to do that.
You see I am so terribly afraid of Bossy. She looks
like a dreadful monster to me. I must stop now and
dress for Goodwood.
January 9th, I866.-Aunt Sue's servants left, too,
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Leaves from the Diary
that is, all but Aunt Susan and Aunt Emily. They are
both fine cooks and Aunt Emily's husband, who has
been free all his life, stays at Goodwood and he is "doing the chores," as Charley says. Uncle Arvah has
engaged a cook for her, as Aunt Susan cannot stand the
fire long at a time. He says he can find a cook for us
in the wilds of Wakulla County where Aunt Sue's came
from.  They are white women and sisters, not entirely
unencumbered as each has a child four or five years of
age, but Mother is glad to get any help she can. A letter from Brother Amos this morning, says he and Sister
Mag and the children are coming back to Florida to
live. I am so glad, it has been hard to have her so far
away, especially since her health has been so bad. Cousin
Sallie Bradford sent Father such a fine loaf of bread; it
is a kind he is particularly fond of, "salt rising" she
calls it. They must have
"Heard her cry in the land of pie."
for cousin Peggy sent a beautiful sponge cake this afternoon, and Hattie sent a leg of mutton beautifully
browned all ready to be eaten. Aren't they just too
good?
January 29th, I866.-Sister Mag and her family
are living with us now, Brother Amos has broken up
his plantation in Georgia. He can do nothing there
without labor and all the negroes have left that section
of country.
We have a pretty good cook and last night Brother
Amos brought in a servant he had hired. It seems that
some of the colored troops have been disbanded and
this one was the drum major (whatever that may be).
He is very small, black and wiry and active as a cat. He
says he belonged to a maiden lady in Virginia and she
trained him for dining room work, so we have put him
at the same thing and so far he is acquitting himself
very well. Josie and I clean up the house and it is a
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Through Some Eventful Years
little easier every day. It is funny to ask a little darky
in blue uniform to go to the kitchen for hot biscuits.
January 28th, I 866.-Aunt Sue spent yesterday with
us. She is going to have a house-party and says she
must have me. I told her I could not be spared but
my vanity received a blow, for all at the table insisted
that I must go. I love aunt Sue and it is always a pleasure to be with her and then, too, I feel flattered that
she should think I am capable of helping her to entertain.
Mother says I need not trouble about clothes, Father
has given aunt Sue carte blanche, where I am concerned
and Mrs. Brookes lives on Goodwood plantation and
she can do any sewing I may need. Isn't it delightful
to be cared for in that manner?
The house-party will consist of two daughters of
General Sprague of the U. S. A.  It seems he is an
old friend of the family; Mrs. Harrison Reed, Mrs.
Miller and her invalid son, Charles, who is a lieutenant
in this same U. S. A., also Eliza Meginniss and Josie
Evans. Mother is so kind as to give Josie two weeks
holiday that she may make one of the party. We will
have a delightful time, I am sure.
February I7th, i866.' The house party is a thing
of the past and will be long remembered.  The Sprague
girls, Maggie and Mary, (Tudie seems to be her name
to her intimates), are such nice, pleasant young ladies.
When I had known them a few days I said I would not
have imagined they were from the North. They
laughed and said they had been almost raised in the
South. I like them very much.
Mrs. Reed, to quote from my black mammy, "Ain't
my sort," and I have never been thrown with one of
her kind before.  Mrs. Miller is a sweet old lady, a
South Carolinian by birth, who married a Northern
man. Her invalid son, Lieutenant Charles Miller, excited my pity to such an extent that I have tried to for
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get his blue uniform and remember only that he suffers.
I think the almost constant contact with the sick and
wounded soldiers in our own army has automatically
made me tender of those who are ill. His mother
watches over him day and night. Aunt Sue is just as
good to them both as if they were kinsfolk and, though
Uncle Arvah is such a busy man, he does all he can to
lighten her burden. She was very glad to have a little
help in filling in his lonely hours.
I look at it in this way; I am trying to be of some
assistance to dear aunt Sue and if she wants me to read
to and talk to, this poor, sick boy, it is my duty to do it.
So, for a while, each morning, after his breakfast tray
has been brought down stairs, I relieve his mother and,
while I read some entertaining book, or glean the freshest news from the papers, she walks out among the
flowers, or chats with the other guests.
Our own boys tease me about my "sick Yankee," but
I think it is right or I would not do it. He, poor fellow, is grateful; I told him doctors did not know
everything, even  the wisest of them.  I told him
I was supposed to have consumption, of which Drs.
Clark and Geddings were quite positive, but I would
not listen to them. My doctor Brother did not agree
with them and he says, "help yourself to get well; do
not think of the disease but fill your mind with bright
thoughts and, if possible find something for your hands
to do; live in the open and hope, Hope, HOPE."
He was much interested in this and, the next day,
instead of lying on the couch in his mother's room, as
he had done, he came down stairs, with Frank and Jack
assisting him, and sat in the large cushioned rocker in
the hall.
The young people in the house came about his chair
and Aunt Sue said he was holding a reception. He enjoyed it until he got tired, and his mother was delighted
that he had made the effort. Poor boy! He has hem
3I3 
Through Some Eventful Years
orrhages but I used to have them, too, and I have quite
made up my mind to live to be a hundred; if I can.
One of Aunt Sue's friends among the younger officers
of General Foster's command, brought a set of croquet
and offered to teach us to play. We have a lovely croquet ground and we play a part of every day. Of course
we are thrown together a great deal and in this way I
have become better acquainted with the guests who are
continually coming in and out. There are several young
lieutenants among aunt Sue's blue-coated friends but
I notice they are called plain "mister," by their own
people, so in future I shall drop the title.
Mr. Bumford is probably the eldest of them; he has
thin, "kitty kat" whiskers and his comrades make all
manner of fun at his expense, but he is good nature personified and bears his yoke easily. Mr. Wessels is quite
different, he seems to have been fed on green persimmons in babyhood and contracted a habit of puckering
his countenance. He is also disagreeable in his manner
to me.  Mr. Coolidge I have already told you of; he is
the nicest one of all. There are a lot of others, too, but
I have nothing special to say about them.
One day when we had played croquet a long time
Mr. Bumford and I went back to the house to rest
a while. On the sides of the broad steps leading up on
the piazza were two immense bronze lions, their heads
resting on their paws; these made comfortable seats and
we proceeded to occupy them.
Sitting thus Mr. Bumford said, "Do you know what
this space between us typifies to my mind?" Of course
I did not. "I'll tell you then, it is the gulf which seems
to lie between the North and the South and I asked myself will it ever be bridged?"
I was surprised for I had not credited him with any
depth. I parried the thrust. "Why do you think there
is a gulf?"
"I do not think it," he said, "I know it, just take
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you and myself for instance. I come in filled with the
milk of human kindness, at peace with all the world,
then I catch sight of you and I immediately congeal, and
in your icy atmosphere, I continually grow colder."
At first I felt angry but his manner was much pleasanter than these words sound written down, so I concluded to meet him on his own ground.
"It is a pity you are so susceptible to cold. What has
become of the "hot-blooded Southerner?" said I.
"Gone where the woodbine twineth, I guess," he replied. "You Johnnie Rebs keep your tempers pretty
well."
"Are you trying to make us angry when you call us
Rebels?" I asked.  "If you are you are missing the
mark for we are proud of the name, General Washington was a Rebel, so was Thomas Jefferson and all the
men who fought under Washington, and all the men
who signed the Declaration of Independence were
Rebels, too. In the middle of the Seventeenth Century
an ancestor of mine said'Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God,' and today England owes to him many of
her liberties; I am glad to be called a Rebel."
"The ice is beginning to melt when we can get up a
quarrel," he said. "As long as you already think me
impertinent, I would like to ask a few questions."
I waited but he seemed to have forgotten I was there.
Breaking a twig from a japonica close at hand, he took
his knife from his pocket and whittled away for dear
life.
"I did not wish to make you angry when I called you
a Johnnie Reb. I suppose I called you that in the same
spirit which inspires you to call us Yankees. We do
not love that name, of course you know it was given
to the Revolutionary troops in derision?"
"Yes, I have heard that," said I. "It was a pity to
foist such a name upon them. I had three great-grand
fathers and one grandfather at Yorktown, when Corn
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Through Some Eventful Years
wallis surrendered and I am proud of it-I hope you
bear in mind that this brave army were ALL
REBELS."
"Suppose we let history alone and come down to
every-day facts," he said.  "You are Mrs. Hopkins'
name-child and a favorite niece; she is a most delight ful hostess and if you would be a little less chilling you
could be'the belle of the regiment.'"
I laughed; I could not help it, for that was the least
desirable position in the world to me, but, as Mammy
says, "I'membered my manners," and answered politely.
Wasn't it funny though?
The Regimental Band comes out to Goodwood often
to play for us to dance, it makes fine music and we enjoy it. One night the band serenaded us and Aunt Eue
sent a large tray of refreshments for their delectation.
Uncle Arvah went out and thanked them and Aunt Sue
hurried Sallie upstairs with flowers for us to throw
down to them, but I let Sallie, herself, throw the flowers
from my window.
Aunt Sue is strictly impartial and she invites the
young people from both sections and we manage to enjoy it all. I am telling you this foolishness, little Diary,
that when my great-great-grandchildren shall read these
pages they will see for themselves that great-grandmamma stood fast by the colors of her country.
I am going home tomorrow and it will be good to
get back though it really is delightful at Goodwood.
The Millers say they are "heart-broken" to have me
go. Charley wanted me to kiss him goodbye but I explained that Mother did not approve of kissing. I do
not either, if the truth must be told.
I am going home to breakfast and will take the homefolks by surprise, so have to bid adieu to all tonight. I
have met some very pleasant ladies from the North.
Mrs. Major Foster is lovely; she was a school-mate
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Leaves from the Diary
of my sweet sister who died. They were in Georgetown at Miss English's school for girls and she recognized me while we were dancing the lancers and asked
if my name was Bradford? She says she never saw
such a likeness, it was as if she was facing her old schoolmate again.
The Spragues have gone to St. Augustine and I suppose I will not see them again. I was sorry to tell them
goodbye.
I was so amused at something that happened a few
minutes ago, Lucy, the up-stairs maid, came  in my
room and said, "Miss Sue, is you busy?"
"No, Lucy," I answered, "not too busy to listen to
you."
"Well, den, I jis' want ter tell you'bout Mrs. Reed.
She telled me when she fust cum,' Miss Lucy,'wait on
me good while I am here an' when I goes I gwine do
suppen hansum fer you.' I done all I knowed how fer
her an' now you jis' look what she gin me."
Lucy spread out on her knee a handkerchief which
had once upon a time been a useful, if not a beautiful
article, but now too ragged for any self-respecting person to use.
"Ain't dat mean, Miss Sue?"
"What did you expect?" I asked.
"I dun kno', but I is wurked lak a nigger fur her
an' I ain't got no use fur dis." With that she laid it on
the burning coals and left the room.
February I 8th, I866.-1Home again and I have
talked myself hoarse telling the events of the three
weeks I have been away. I am glad to get back. All
say they have missed me, which is pleasant to hear.
Eddie does not like to hear of the Union officers, he
resents every mention of them. I told him of the Confederate uniform I made for Arvah; the brass buttons,
the gold lace, for it was a captain's uniform.
Arvah was so proud of it until the Yankees, who
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Through Some Eventful Years
came to the house, made fun of him, calling him "John nie Reb." He cried then and said, "Me don't want to
be a Donnie Web."
Mrs. Reed told him to ask his mother for a piece of
blue broadcloth and she would make him a Yankee
uniform.   She is a neat hand at work and by night
the little suit was finished and Arvah was the centre
of an admiring group. I took no notice of him but
the little fellow is very fond of me and when he felt
tired he tried to crawl up in my lap. I did not encourage
this and he said, "Me wants to love'ou."
"No," I said. "I can't love a Yankee."
He burst into tears and could not be quieted.
"Take off dis'Ankee." he cried, "I'se doin' to be a
Donnie Web."
After that Mrs. Reed and I were rivals where Arvah
was concerned. I took to slipping a piece of money in
his hand when it was time to dress for the evening and
then, in spite of Mrs. Reed's pleading, he would wear
the suit of gray; but just let me forget to have the bit
of silver on time and Arvah appears in the parlor, a
tiny figure in blue, where he is surrounded by his brother
officers and, listens with willing ears to the many complimentary speeches made for his benefit.
Eddie thinks this is terrible. "I wouldn't be a turncoat," says this staunch young Southerner.
MY SOLDIER IN GRAY
So young and so handsome,
So brave and so neat,
From the crown of his head
To the soles of his feet.
He's the light of my eyes,
As he marches away
To a place at the FRONT
With his comrades in gray.
.3 I 8 
LI it,TTE-,\,ANT \ ICHOCLAS WAREt EPPESK
C,oifederate States Ariiy  
Leaves from the Diary
Four years he has battled
For his Country's rights,
Yet the bullets have spared him
In the fiercest of fights.
Some day he'll come home,
I hope and I pray,
For'tis Heaven on earth,
With MIy Soldier in Gray.
March I st, i 8 66.-Little Diary, I have tried hard to
tell you my secret but there are some things too sacred
to write about. My Soldier in Gray has held by promise
for many months and, before the year is out, we expect
to be married. Father and Mother are willing, for they,
too, like My Soldier in Gray but they insisted he should
promise them never to take me away. I am the last
one left at home and they cannot give me up. I love
them so well and I am glad they want me to live with
them always.
When the war was over, so many soldiers did not
have anything to do, some even did not have a home
to go to, but my soldier went immediately to work.
His father has a large plantation and the overseer left
as soon as the South surrendered; this Lake Lafayette
plantation is five miles from Tallahassee, where the
Eppes family live and his father is an old man and
feeble; so he took right hold. He lives on the plantation and is managing splendidly, they say. I often
hear his praises and I feel a glow of pride; but, not
even to you little friend, can I tell all My Soldier in Gray
means to me. We met just after the Battle of Gettysburg and he has loved me ever since. Let me fasten
this page down securely that none may see.
March 5th, I 866.-Aunt Sue had the Italian harpers
and the little grandchild to play tonight and I am here
at Goodwood. These old, white-haired men are totally
blind and the grandchild leads them around, but they
make the sweetest music on their harps and the boy
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Through Some Eventful Years
plays the violin. I heard them last week at the capitol
but we cannot hear good music too often.
March  IIth, I866.-Again  I am  at Goodwood.
Uncle Arvah is having a card party and I was sent for;
you see, he taught me to play whist and he says he is
proud of his pupil. I have not played at a regular card
party before but often Judge Love comes to Goodwood and we play, Aunt Sue and the Judge against
Uncle Arvah and myself.
This, however, is a large party.  General and Mrs.
Foster are coming and many others; we have put three
tables in the library and in the double parlors several
more are placed. We have dressed the whole of the
first floor, and the dining room is a dream. The chandelier is an immense shell of bronze, in it are waterlilies of mother-of-pearl. Six arms of bronze curve upward from this shell with its fluted edges, lighting the
room beautifully and bringing out the pearly, pink tints
of the lilies.  The chandelier is supported by a figure of
Neptune holding his tripod. It is the handsomest I
ever saw and Mr. Croom, the former owner, brought
it from Italy. He also brought over an artist from
Rome who frescoed the ceilings of this lovely home.
The mantel-pieces are of Italian marble, and all this is
not in the downstairs rooms, for show, but each room
is fitted up in the same way. Uncle Arvah and Aunt Sue
are the very ones to have this spacious mansion for they
love to entertain and indulge in a princely hospitality,
which all enjoy.
March I2th, I866.-Last night Aunt Sue asked me
to dress early and take charge of her little boys until
the company arrived. She likes them to appear in the
parlor and it is an easy matter to amuse them and keep
them "spick and span." It was cold and windy last
night and I proposed to them to sit beside the fire and
listen to some fairy tales. This they were ready to do
and we were sitting there, deep in the thrilling story
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of "Beauty and the Beast," when Jack opened the door
and announced the first arrivals.
In came Mr. Bumford, Mr. Wessels and Mr. Coolidge, I do not know if they came together but there
they were. I looked up and spoke and the children
clamored for the rest of the story.
It was soon finished and then Mr. Wessels stood
before me and said, "I have something here Miss Bradford, which may be of interest to you."
As he spoke he laid across my lap a Harper's Weekly,
opened to its fullest extent. I am a trifle near-sighted
and I did not at first take it in, but presently I saw what
it was. A caricature of our beloved President Jefferson Davis, dressed in woman's clothes, a large hoopskirt had tripped him up and a huge, booted leg was
showing through the hoops. The face was unmistakable and I gazed as if fascinated.
It was hard to realize that such an insult should be
offered to me. I cannot speak when I am angry. I can
only cry and there I sat, the tears rolling down my face.
I do not believe either of the others had an idea of
what he was doing, for Mr. Coolidge came and looked
over my shoulder.  Seizing the paper, he crushed it
in his hands and throwing it in the fire, he grasped the
poker and pushed it down until only ashes remained;
then turning to the perpetrator of this sorry joke, he
exclaimed, "Wessels, you are no gentleman."
Little Diary, you should have seen him. He was splendid.  I looked to see Mr. Wessels resent it, but he only
laughed and just then other guests came and the episode
was ended; but I shall always feel grateful to my champion and never will he rank with "the Yankees" in my
mind.
It was a gay scene; the bright dresses of the ladies,
the brilliant uniforms of the officers, the plentiful
sprinkling of civilians, the long mirrors reflecting it all,
but I did not enjoy one minute of the evening. I did
32I 
Through Some Eventful Years
not enjoy it although My Soldier in Gray was there
and usually that insures a happy evening for me.   I
could not sleep for hours; the insult cut deep.
March I3th, I866.-We had some errands in town
this morning, so we stopped on the way home. Miss
Flint told me Mr. Coolidge is related to the Eppes
family here in Tallahassee. I shall find out all about
that when I see My Soldier again.
I got home a little before sun-set and, in a few minutes, Charley and Lodie Austin and Cousin John Nash
came to spend the evening. Mother just loves to have
the Confederate Soldiers to a meal, she gets the very
best of everything to put before them and they appreciate it; also they appreciate her and her music. I would
like to be as charming as she is, and when I said this to
Father he said, "You will never be, and this is why, you
speak out too plainly. The world has a grudge against
plain-speakers."
I got "a slam" from Sister Mag tonight, too.  She
says I am "a coquette" but that is not true. The boys
like me, but I like them, too, and they like me because
they feel safe in my company. I talk about the things
I think will interest them, I am a good listener  I do
not encourage love-making. I do not allow caresses
nor do I accept presents from young men. Even if I
am young I have learned one piece of wisdom, "It is the
unattainable that men sigh for."
No, most assuredly, I am not a coquette and the only
time I ever approached it was Aunt Sue's fault and not
mine; it was three years ago, I was nothing but a child,
a brave Confederate captain "came a-wooing," he was
highly educated, wealthy and blue-blooded. He bore a
character above reproach and I found him pleasant company.  One night he persuaded me to let him put upon
my finger a ring, which had been the betrothal ring for
four generations. I wore that ring till morning; then
I wrote a note and sent Jordan to take it back to him.
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I was sorry but I simply could not stand the feeling of
the ring and the thought of what it meant. That was
not flirting; it was only putting things right.
I am wearing another ring now and I shall never send
this one back. This is a plain gold ring while the other
blazed with diamonds but the owner of the plain little
ring is My Soldier in Gray, and no words can tell what
he means to me.
March I4th, I866. Riding horse-back with My
Soldier this afternoon I told him the incident at Goodwood and how gallantly Mr. Coolidge came to the
rescue. I told him I had heard Mr. Coolidge was related to him and if that was so I wanted to know why
he did not make friends with him? He looked very
serious and I was beginning to fear I had hurt him in
some unknown way.
At last he spoke, "I have never mentioned my cousin.
Sidney Coolidge to you; he came to Florida to visit
our family prior to the war. I, a school boy, just at
the age to give the warmest admiration to a man of
charm and ability such as he was. I loved my cousin
Sidney and looked forward to the visit, which he had
promised us at some future time.
"The war came on and during the whole four years
of war, I was in the thickest of the fighting. After Gettysburg I was promoted and assigned to the Army of
the West. One day I was sent to carry a dispatch for
my general. Crossing the field of Chickamauga, I was
hit by a bullet; (the only time in all the years) it
ploughed its way through hat and hair scorching as it
went. I was stunned but soon recovered, delivered the
dispatch and turned to go.  An officer who knew me,
laid his hand on my arm and said:
"'Your cousin, Colonel Coolidge, lies dead in that
tent, don't you want to go and look at him?'
"I was still faint from the shock of the bullet and I
turned quickly away that he might not see my horror
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Through Some Eventful Years
and distress. I did not see him, I could not bear it,
but always, I have thanked a kind Providence that on
this day I had not fired a single shot but had been on
courier duty all day.
"Now, this young lieutenant you like so much, is probably a relative, indeed I am sure he is, but this is the
wav I feel about it; if the Confederates had been the
victorious army and I had been occupying the conquered
country, if, in fact, our positions could be reversed, I
should look him up, claim the tie of blood and proffer
the hand of friendship. As things stand, he is the conqueror, I am the conquered and if any advances are
made they must come from him."
"I am sorry," I said when he closed. "Even if he
does wear the blue, he is a kinsman worth claiming and
I am sure you two would be congenial." With that
the subject was dropped, never to be resumed. He is
a man of deep feeling, quiet and reticent, sincere and
truthful but too proud to expose himself to a possible
slight. The Southern Confederacy had no braver soldier than he. My brave Soldier in Gray!
April 3rd, I866.-As soon as they could pull themselves together after the war, the women of the South
organized The Southern Woman's Memorial Association. We all belong to it and a call has been made on
the members to get to work and prepare for a fair, to
be held in Tallahassee. This Fair is to raise money to
erect a monument to our heroes. The plan is for each
section of the State to have in readiness the best of the
productions of that section, and in December we will
have the Fair and the call is for as many as possible
to be present.
It was made so far ahead that the housekeepers and
those who embroider might have time enough to prepare their wares. Only in this way can we erect a monument. Our people are ruined by the war; few have
enough left to provide for daily needs. Some wealthy
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ones still have a little left but I fear they, too, will come
to want, as they do not realize the conditions which confront us. It is so natural to spend when you can get the
money, with no thought for the future. Anyway, we
must have that monument.
April 22nd, I866.-I have had a trying time today.
Soon after breakfast this morning my friend, the captain was announced. Hle came alone and he was in no
hurry to go. Again he offered for my acceptance the
splendid, sparkling French Marquise ring. He has
made all his arrangements to go to Brazil and there
make his home and he wants me to go with him, but that,
I cannot do. Even if there was no other reason I would
not be willing to leave our poor, conquered country to
her fate. This is the time for every true-hearted, loyal
son and daughter of the South to bend every energy to
restore and upbuild the ruin the war has wrought.
We can do this and with God's help we will. But there
is another reason still and I had to tell the captain this
before he could be convinced that his case was a hopeless one. He described in glowing colors the ease and
luxury of the life in Brazil; the wealth to be acquired
in that favored land; he painted sad pictures of the
trials which awaited those who elected to cast in their
fortunes with a country devastated and ruined as this
is; he said Southern women were totally unfit for hardship. Perhaps so, but like my Scotch ancestress, "I am
minded to try it" and, though I forbore to tell him so.
"I had rather wed Jamie, wi' bonnet in han', than to
wed Saundie wi' housen and lan'."
April 23rd, i866.-Father is looking better than he
has for a year past. After the negroes left us in January, he concluded not to plant a crop of any kind but
simply use his broad acres for pasture. He has a very
large herd of cattle and a vast number of hogs, and these
continue to increase. Though the number is often cut
down by the freedmen, who lose no opportunity to help
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Through Some Eventful Years
themselves, there are enough left to make quite a show.
When the year I865 ended Sergeant Cornell and Private Hibell were recalled by General Foster and I rather
dreaded for Father, in his state of health, to have to
struggle with plantation life. I see now I need not
have feared for him.
Once having made up his mind as to the best course
to pursue he is perfectly content; he has always been
a student and he finds great pleasure in study. He also
likes us to listen, in his leisure hours, while he tells us
of his researches. This is very improving and, what I
like even better, are the arguments carried on in his
library. When men of bright minds get together it is
a treat to listen. We go to ride every morning in
Father's big, old-fashioned buggy. He taught me to
drive long ago and I enjoy it.
Colonel Wyatt Aiken was here a few days ago and
he drove over all three plantations with Father. He
is preparing to bring out a new farming magazine, "The
Rural Carolinian," and is gathering all available material. I wish he had been here when Dr. Caldwell
spent the night with us. I learned from hearing him
talking to Father what causes the difference between
the white and the black races. Father, being a physician, knew it but he had not thought best to tell me. I
am no longer a child, however, and while I have not
exactly "laid aside childish things," I take a deep interest in scientific investigation.   I came near going to
sleep over some statistics Colonel Wyatt gave us relating to soils and fertilizers.
April 24th, I866.-William Henry Harrison bade
us goodbye this morning. Long since he has discarded
the Yankee uniform he wore when he first came, and
looks well in his suit of white and the cap, which he
insisted on wearing, though we told him it belonged to
a chef.
"Never mind" he said, "when I gets back to ole Vir
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ginny to my ole mistis, the fust thing she is gwine to
ask me is,'William, are your dining room suits clean?'"
He said the cap was considered a part of this equipment. We are sorry to give him up, his "ole mistis" certainly knew how he ought to be trained. Many of the
negro soldiers, who were disbanded here at Centreville,
have hired out on the plantations in the vicinity and
some have invested their pay in small farms. Land sells
for almost nothing now.
Brother Amos says we are all "land poor," and we
truly have but little else. I had a crowd of girls to
stay a few days and we had a delightful time. In the
evenings the boys of our acquaintance came and we
danced or played cards.
I do not let anyone but Father see my diary and
sometimes he criticises. He only reads selected portions but he asked, "Why is it you say so little of your
girl friends, when you are so fond of them and take such
pleasure in their company?"
I told him that from my earliest recollection of such
matters, Mother has impressed upon me the importance
of speaking well of other girls. She says nothing sounds
worse than to hear one girl speak ill of her companions,
and that a woman should always take sides with her
sister woman. This is why I do not write or speak of any
faults I see and with this thought continually following
me I have fallen into the habit of saying nothing, in that
way I cast no reflections.
May ist, I866.-Now that Sister Mart is feeling
better, she is beginning to talk of going back to Marion
County. Captain Houstoun says he has been keeping
"bachelor's hall" quite long enough. She has invited
Cousin Martha, Nina Houstoun and me to go back with
her and will also invite other guests and have a merry
"House Party." Captain promises us "all the beaux
in Marion and some besides."
We are going and doubtless will enjoy it, but I hate
327 
Through Some Eventful Years
to leave home when our domestic affairs are in such
shape. We never know when, as uncle Arvah says,
"servants will turn up missing." I am gradually learning how to do the needful things and am really a help
in the house but Father and Mother think it best for me
to go. Sister Mart has had a long and serious illness
and has but little strength.
I am going to leave you at home, my Diary. I will
have to share a room with the other girls and it is best
for you to be out of the way.
May 2nd, i866.-All is ready and we leave as soon
as breakfast is over. Goodbye little Diary. "Sleep tight
and wake bright," for I will need you when I return.
May isth, I866.-We did not stay as long as we
expected and Sister Mart came home with us.  Night
before last we were sitting in the parlor and Captain
Houstoun was sitting outside, on the porch talking to
the doctor, who attends the plantation. The Captain
has a low voice but the doctor has a loud, rasping voice,
which carries far. We could not avoid hearing him if
we had wished to do so.
"Yes, Captain," he said, "this case is the worst case
of confluent small-pox I ever saw in my life. You can
hardly tell he is a human being; he is just a mass of
corruption."
When Captain Houstoun returned to the room  I
asked where this case of small-pox was? He made
light of it and called the doctor "a calamity howler,"
but before I slept I had looked up Fannie, Sister Mart's
black mammy, and found out from her that the sick
negro was in a cabin very near the house in which we
were staying.
That was enough. No rest for the Captain until he
made arrangements for us to leave the next morning.
Bright and early we went to Gainesville, where we
waited for the train to take us home.
Last spring a battle was fought in the streets of
328 
Leaves from the Diary
Gainesville between General Dickinson's men and the
Yankees. The doors and windows of the dwellings are
still full of holes from the musket balls and splintered
wood-work showed where the artillery had showered
shot and shell. The citizens showed us where the
branches had been cut from the trees by these same
balls. The hotel where we waited had been the centre
of the attack and was sadly in need of repairs, both to
wood-work and glass.
Leaving Gainesville behind us, we gladly welcomed
the "iron horse" which would take us back to Tallahassee. There was a stop at every little station and at
one of these a stout young man in farmer's clothes
almost lifted into the car, a feeble old woman.   She
was dressed in black calico, with a bonnet of the same,
and she was weeping bitterly.
As the man turned away, after kissing her goodbye,
he said, "He'll meet you at the depot, Mother, I writ
him you was comin'."
Again we were on our way, the poor old woman continued to sob. When lunch time came, I fixed as tempting a lunch as I could and, pouring a glass of port wine,
I took it to the end of the car, where she was sitting
and asked if she would not have some dinner?
Her poor old face was red and swollen and her voice
trembled as she said, "Thank you, but I don't feel like
I ever want enything to eat no more."
Are you sick? I asked.
"No, I ain't sick in the body, it's my heart is sick,"
she replied.
"Try to eat just a little bite," I begged, "and drink
this wine, it is not strong and it will do you good."
"Jis to please you chile," she said, but appetite was
lacking and her efforts to eat were soon over.
"Suppose you tell me what is troubling you, maybe
I can help," said I.
"No, no," she sobbed. "You nur nobody can help,
329 
Through Some Eventful Years
they is hanged my baby, my dear baby, what never done
nothing to nobody."
I was shocked beyond measure and my first thought
was that I had found a lunatic, but her next words told
the whole dreadful story.
"Chile, ain't you read the papers?" she cried. "Don't
you know how them devils hung poor Mrs. Surratt and
my boy, my baby boy? The papers call him Lewis
Payne, but that warn't his name, he tuken that name
so he couldn't be caught up with. When Conscription
fust come and my oldest son went in the army and wore
the gray clothes, I mourned and cried but pretty soon
he deserted and after he hid around a while, he went
to the Union men and he tole'em he couldn't noways
fight but he would work for them if he could get a safe
place. Them men sent him up North somewhere and
he done pretty well.
"All this time my baby boy was growing bigger and
bigger and I knowed soon the conscriptors would be a
takin' him, so I writ a letter to the Yankee general an'
tole him he could have my baby son if he would let him
work in a shop. Soon some of the blue-coats come and
got him an' they said I must remember his name was
Lewis Payne and his home would be Washington City
and he hadn't ever been in Florida. I promised all this
and I was so satisfied because I had kept him out of the
Confederate Army. I thought it was such a smart thing
to do, and now, they have killed my chile-they hung
him with a rope. They said he had plotted to murder
President Lincoln. My baby chile, who never had the
heart to hurt nothing."
I found myself crying with this poor mother, she was
old and ignorant, she had tried to cheat her country and
this was her reward.
The train slowed up, another man closely resembling
the first, boarded the train. He took the weeping woman in his arms, kissing her wrinkled face and murmur
330 
Leaves from the Diary
ing words of comfort, but is there any comfort for such
self-reproach as hers? I will probably never see her
again but I shall not forget.
I did not write of these happenings in my diary because it was heart-rending and such a blot on the history
of any country. Some day when reason resumes her
sway, even the perpetrators of these cruel and useless
murders will blush with shame for their own ignominy.
The reckoning will not come here on this earth, but
what will be the verdict when they stand before the bar
of God? I am sorry I saw this broken woman but I
wish I could remember the real name of her murdered
son. She told me but I cannot recall it. All the way
home I thought of her and I am debating whether to
tell Father and Mother of her or not. It has made me
feel dreadfully.  I wept, for Anna Surratt was refused
even the scant comfort of bidding her mother goodbye.
June 5th, I866. -I will have to do some shopping
and I am such a very indifferent shopper, but Mother
positively will not go to Tallahassee, while the bluecoats have possession and Sister Mart is not here. Sister Mag is not well enough to trouble her with such
things and Aunt Sue has gone away for the remainder
of the summer. Father says make a list and give it to
him and he will write to Smallwood, Earle & Co., to
buy in New York and. ship to him. Mrs. Smallwood
is a friend of the family and will select what I describe.
Captain Bernard is going to Europe and will get the
silk dresses I need, in France. There is a first-class
dressmaker in Tallahassee, so I hope we will not have
too much trouble with my trousseau.
I wish they were willing for me to have only simple
clothes for I am marrying a poor man and I do not
ever intend to live beyond his means. Father would
be willing but Mother and the sisters think, because
they had these clothes I must have them, too. One
thing certain, Father shall not get me any expensive jew
33t 
Through Some Eventful Years
elry, he shall not get any at all; I would not see him
worried for the most costly gems in the world.
July 4th, I866.-We do not keep the Glorious
Fourth; we feel no thrills of patriotism when the stars
and stripes float on the breeze. That is, we are not
thrilled with love of country. Our flag has been immortalized by Father Ryan in the "Conquered Banner"
and in its furled folds all our love of country, all our
patriotism is enfolded.
"Furl that banner, it is gory,
Yet'tis wreathed around with Glory,
And'twill live in song and story
Though its folds are in the dust.
For though conquered, we adore it
Low the cold dead hands that bore it
And wildly we deplore it
Furl its folds though now we must."
There are hard things in life; we cannot see why and
faith must be our guide along this uncertain road. Some
day, perhaps, we will understand and in time we may
even forgive but never can we forget.
July 2Ist, I866.-This is the anniversary of the Battie of Manassas. How hopeful we were then and it
seems ages ago, so much has been crowded into life in
these last years. The weather is intensely warm, clouds
are gathering and a storm is evidently brewing. That
will cool us off. Uncle Randal died today and Father
feels it very much. He was so good to his slaves and
really fond of them.
August Ist, I866.-There is a new member of the
family tonight, Richard McPherson Whitehead. He
is named for his uncle Mac, who was killed at Winchester.  His father and mother are delighted beyond
measure and I believe it is the name more than the baby,
as they loved that brother so dearly and mourned him
0so deeply.
In the New York Metropolitan is an answer to "The
332 
Leaves from the Diary
Conquered Banner." It is written by Lord Houghton
and is fine, but I wish the English people had discovered
their real sentiments while there was yet time to help
us; still I must admit it is a beautiful poem.
August 20th, I866.- This is a quiet neighborhood
just now, so many of our number are away for the summer. Uncle Richard and Father do not feel the need
of other company, they are so devoted to each other but
I am sure Mother feels a little lonely sometimes.
Jordan has gone long ago and she has no regular
carriage driver.  She misses her drives around the
country and the visits to the neighbors. She misses the
large force of servants she used to manage so skilfully.
Like the rich man in the Bible, she could "say to one
go and he goeth and to another come, and he cometh,"
and now all is different. The few servants we have are
no longer cheerful and willing, they are given to grumpy
spells, when they go around muttering to themselves
and looking as cross as two sticks. Then, too, we never
know at night if we will find any servants at all the next
morning; all this is very trying to a housekeeper of the
ancient regime.
August 25th, I866.-This is Father's birthday and
Mother always makes a "Red-letter Day" of it, with the
delicacies of which he is most fond. Each of us had
a present, selected with reference to his taste. He is
sixty-eight today and so handsome.
August 4th, i866.-I have not made a success of
training Frances. She was taught the Ten Commandments. She committed them to memory, each one was
carefully explained, but in spite of this I do believe she
has broken them all save the sixth, she has not yet been
guilty of murder, though I am afraid the will to do it
is not lacking.
Mother keeps in her wardrobe a bottle of chloroform, she is very careful of this dangerous medicine
and it is used for Mattie when she is suffering with the
333 
Through Some Eventful Years
toothache. Mother locks the door of the wardrobe and
usually puts the key under her pillow, but we have not
yet become accustomed to the need for a lock and a
key and sometimes it is forgotten.
This morning, just before day, Mother was awakened
by the strong and penetrating fumes of chloroform.
She opened her eyes and there stood Frances pouring
the drug out on her pillow. Mother was so drowsy
she could not move but by a mighty effort she screamed,
this aroused Father and Frances ran, but he was too
quick for her and locked the door by which she had entered the house.
She fell on her knees and implored forgiveness; said
she was looking for money; said she did not intend to
hurt "Miss Patsy," but when daylight came her mother
and her grandparents were summoned and the case laid
before them. The result is that they have sent her to
an uncle who lives in Tallahassee, with orders never
to come here again. I am sure I would be glad to be
rid of her, for she has given me more trouble than words
can tell.
August 26th, i866.-We have to look ahead and
plan for the fall wedding which My Soldier pleads for.
He was born on All Saints' Day and he is asking for
a birthday gift. It is almost two months off and I have
been talking with Mother this morning.  I do not want
a grand wedding such as my sisters had; circumstances
are so different now. Father's fortune has been swept
away by the results of the war. It is true, he still has
his land but that is almost valueless at present and it
may never bring in anything again as land without labor
is a poor proposition.
Father has aged since the surrender and he will never
be able to recoup his losses. All this show and expense
is wholly unnecessary. What I would like would be
a pretty wedding dress, every girl wants that, but I
want a quiet wedding with my family and his family
334 
Leaves from the Diary
present and some of his friends and some of my friends
for  attendants.   Beautiful  flowers  from  Mother's
garden, some of Hattie's lovely japonicas, simple re freshments and NO WINE.
The Rev. William Esten Eppes, whom both families
love, is our choice of a minister. Mother listened to
all I had to say and then she said, "I will talk to Mag
and Martha about it," and I knew my cause was lost.
Even so it was and I can do no more. Something less
grand would suit us better for we are beginning life with
"stout hearts an' willin' hands but nae siller."
August 27th, TS66.-The grapes are a little late in
ripening this year, they are at their best now and today
we have had a couple of dozen friends to feast on them.
They brought baskets and took home a goodly share.
It is very pleasant to share what we have.
When we were children Mother used to read us
stories from "A Father's Tales to His Daughter," a
lovely little book, now out of print. It was printed in the
last century and my copy is worn and old.  What I remember best is this, "The Bunch of Cherries," and the
lesson taught (every story in those days had a moral)
was "what you possess becomes doubly valuable when
you are so fortunate as to share it with another." A
kindly thought, is it not?
September 25th, I866.-Nearly a month since I
have opened my diary, but I am busy these fall days.
There are so many stitches to take, so many plans to
make and remake; visitors coming and going; rides
with my Soldier in Gray; long talks with Father in the
twilight and helping Mother with the housekeeping,
for she has not felt quite well of late. All this keeps
me busy but I am happy. One of Father's favorite
sayings is "Happiness is a road-side flower growing on
the highway of usefulness."
Mrs. Kinnebrough is making some dresses for me.
She is a good dressmaker and a pleasant lady; a real
335 
Through Some Eventful Years
lady, the daughter of an English clergyman, she is quite
pretty, too. It is time to be deciding just what my
wedding dress is to be.  Sister Mart will soon come
home from Tennessee and she will help me to plan.
October 5th, I866.-My dress has been bought and
Mrs. Kinnebrough says she will have all my things
ready; the dress is of plain white silk, to be trimmed
with pearl bandings and illusion. With it I am to wear
Sister Mag's lovely set of pearls.  I like time-honored
customs, so have ordered a wreath and corsage bouquet of orange blossoms from Paris. They will come
on the next steamer. There is one time-honored custom, however, which will not be observed. There is
to be nothing intoxicating served to the guests at my
wedding. No wife nor mother shall look back with
mortification to my wedding night. Another custom
also has been prohibited by Mother's orders:  She
has let all our friends know that "no wedding presents
must be sent."  She says the South is impoverished,
there are few who can afford to give a handsome gift
and yet almost every one will spend that which they
can ill-afford, rather than be outdone in generous giving.
I am well satisfied with this arrangement. I would not
like to think our friends had deprived themselves to give
to us.  Mother is quite right.
We have company most of the time these days, coming and going, day by day. Sometimes I think I would
like the quiet home life just now.
October i6th, I866.'Father has given me a beautiful little book to read, "The Ribbon of Blue." It
tells of the necessity of love and forbearance in the
married state and is full of selections from poets, who
have written on that subject. And yet, after all, there
is no advice better than was given to us by an old negro
preacher, when we met him on the road.
He stopped us and said, "I done hear dat you chilluns is gwine ter git marri'd."
336 
Leaves from the Diary
"That is so," said my Soldier. "What do you think
of it, Uncle Caesar?"
"I think's well of it, but I got suppin' fur ter tell de
bofe of you, Trus' in de Lord, dat is needful, but dere's
anurer thing: don't you nebber, de two er you, git mad
at de same time."
Now, if that is not matrimonial wisdom I cannot
see where you will find it.
October 28th, I 866.- It has been said "the course of
true love never does run smooth," but our marriage
seems to have met with the approval of all concerned.
I am glad it is so.  Both families are perfectly satisfied, no one comnes to the front with objections as is
often the case.  We will live here with Father and
Mother and I fail to see what more I could ask of life.
November  Ist, I866.-My dear little friend, my
confidential friend of many years, I am telling you
goodbye.  Whatever the future may bring me of weal
or woe will not be recorded. This is MY DAY, my
wedding day.
"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on" and from
dawn until the evening hour the sun has shone forth in
all his splendor. Soon the man of God will come and
with him will come "My Soldier in Gray," and
"I'll love him more, more,
Than wife e'er did before
Be the days dark or bright."
337  
THE EPPES COAT OF ARMS
THE EPPES COAT OF ARMS 
The Years of Reconstruction
we learned it; all superiluities were given up; we almost
fortot there were such things as amusements.   New
to9'\s  and a variety of magazines and newspapers,.
which had once been considered necessaries, were
dropped from the list and, in most households, The
Savannah  News was our only communication  with
foreign affairs or with distant parts of our own country.
An occasional Alew York Aletropolitan, was passed
around and almost read to pieces.  Had not the hands
been so busily employed th\e minds might have suffered,
but labor, done intelligently, gives mental stimulus
as well as bodily strength.
These large families of sturdy boys and girls grew
apace, soon they were big enough to help and, all the
time they were growiing, they were imbibing a love for
Dixie and all it represented. They listened with delight to the stirring tales of warfare told by their sires
and proudly hailed the stars and bars as "OUR FLAG."
But this came afterward, or rather, it came so gradually that we did not know it had happened. Changes
came with liohtning-like rapidity and we dared not look
the future in the face.
340 
CHAPTER II
THE BIRTH OF THE NEW SOUTH
HEN  General Lee surrendered the Army of
Northern Virginia at Appomattox, the Old South
received a death blow but life was not yet extinct. The
suffering brought about for this proud people by the
many insults they received at the hands of the conquering foe cannot be told in words. Oftentimes these were
of such a petty nature that one wonders that they were
not passed unnoticed, but the lightest touch smarts and
burn3 on a raw surface, and our wounds were fresh.
First came an order from headquarters to the clergy
of Tallahassee; the President of the Confederacy must
not be prayed for, but every minister in the city must
pray for the President of the United States. We were
in church when the venerable Bishop Rutledge was trying to obey this order. His long white hair, like spun
silk, was gently stirred by the Spring breeze, from the
window at his back, his surplice falling about his aged
and shrunken figure gave him an almost unearthly appearance. He was a Southerner of Southerners, and for
four years his whole heart had gone up in prayer for
Jefferson Davis, the South's adored President. Now
with trembling lips and unsteady voice he began his
prayer: "Oh, Lord, Our Heavenly Father, the High
and Mighty Ruler of the Universe, Who  doth from
Thy Throne behold all the dwellers upon earth; most
heartily we beseech Thee with Thy favor to behold
and bless Thy servant The President of the Confederate States." Realizing his mistake, the poor old head
fell low on his breast as he retrieved himself, and in a
faltering voice repeated: "Thy servant the President
of the United States and all others in authority."
That was all, but even pin-pricks hurt. The next
(34I) 
The Years of Reconstruction
Sunday, wishing to know how the Methodist Church
met the difficulty, we attended divine service in that
church and listened to the Reverend Orson Branch, one
of the South's ablest divines. Slender and graceful,
intellect shining forth from his fine eyes, not yet attained to middle age, he stood in the pulpit of Trinity
Church and a crowded congregation waited patiently
for him to begin service.  With one delicate hand upraised, he invoked God's blessing on his flock. In the
Methodist Church there are no set forms of prayer
and on our bended knees we listened while he continued:
"Almighty God, Our Father, in Whom we have all
faith and Whose mercy we do not doubt, for whom
the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son
whom He would receive, we most humbly beseech Thee
to look down upon Thy servant, the President of the
United States and so endue him with Thy wisdom and
Thy loving kindness, that he may realize his responsibility and the difficulties of his position. Open his eyes
to the truth and, seeing, give him of Thy grace, that
he may walk in the paths of truth and justice."
Thus did the Reverend Orson Branch comply with
the order.
This prayer for the President of the United States
was a part of the morning service in all the churches, so
the following Sunday we betook ourselves to the Presbyterian church, to listen to Dr. John E. DuBose, a
man who differed in many ways from Bishop Rutledge
and from the young minister of the Methodist church.
Dr. DuBose was tall and well proportioned, with the
easy movements of an athlete, the strength of half a
dozen ordinary men, and, (whisper it low) a temper
to match his strong arm.
We were a little late, the invocation had been spoken
and the choir was singing "Rock of Ages." We stole
quietly in and when the hymn was ended we rose with
the congregation for prayer. We have not told you
342 
The Birth of the New South
that this Presbyterian pastor was a gifted man; one
whom it was a pleasure to hear. Now, as his deep voice
was raised in supplication, we did not wish to miss a
single word.  In eloquent, well-chosen language, he
prayed for many things, but that we had come to hear
came not. A slight pause and then the clear, distinct
voice went on, "Father of Mercies, we most earnestly
beseech Thee to bless and comfort Thy servant, Jefferson Davis, give him of Thy grace, that he may bear
patiently the trials of captivity for he, even as Thyself, Oh, Lord, is bearing the cross for his people. We
mo3t earnestly pray that Thou wilt take under Thy care
and guidance Thy servant, the President of these United States of America, open his eyes that he may see
aright, open his heart that he may do Thy will, set his
feet in the paths of righteousness and give him strength,
that he may walk therein. This we ask in the name of
the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
With tear dimmed eyes his congregation gathered
about Dr. DuBose as he left the church, a grasp of the
hand, a sudden turning away, the silent passing of the
church-goers to their homes, spoke more eloquently
than words. All hearts echoed his prayer for the prisoner who was to us so dear.
Relations between the conqueror and the conquered
could have been made less bitter if these annoyances
had been avoided. The young men, aye, and the old
ones, too, returning from the army had only the gray
uniform to wear. An order was first issued that no
man should appear in public in Confederate uniform.
When Mr. Hopkins and some others, represented to
the Federal authorities that these men had nothing else
to wear, the order was changed to read that "all brass
buttons, all insignia of rank, must be removed, or covered." A wave of indignation followed this piece of
petty spite.
So it went on; continually something was done that
343 
The Yea(rs of Reconstruction
hurt the Southerner's pride. Constant dropping wears
away stone, we are told, and the patience of our people
was sorely tried. The incessant haling of our men and
our women as well, before a military tribunal, to be
tried and condemned, without the slightest pretense of
justice, aroused intense bitterness. We did not know
when morning dawned what might befall us ere the sun
went down. Insolence from the negroes became more
and more frequent. Much of this friction could have
been prevented, but feeling ran high on both sides.
Then the Freedman's Bureau was established and
the carpetbaggers came like unto an army of locusts,
seeking what they could devour. If life for the Southerner was hard before, it became almost unendurable
under these conditions. Yes, the Old South was slowly
but surely dying; that is to say, the Old South was dying
politically, financially and socially, but the spirit of the
Old South can never die. So long as a loyal son or
daughter of the Old South remains, they will recall with
pride the glorious deeds of the armies of the Southern
Confederacy; they will speak with tenderness of the
war work of Southern women; they will
"Tell it to the last of times,
No Nation rose so fair and white
Nor fell so free of crimes."
The traditions, the principles, the customs of bygone
days will be forever cherished and we hug to our hearts
these comforting lines, 
"Truth crushed to earth will rise again,
T'he eternal years of God are hers,
While error, wounded, writhes in pain
And dies amid her worshipers."
Now we will tell of this New South, which the year
of our Lord Eighteen-hundred and Sixty-six brought
forth.  Up to this time few among us had realized the
extent of our misfortunes.
344 
The Birth of the New South
WThile the South was gifted with brains, intelligence,
accomplishments, and imagination, not many had as yet
awakened to the fact that each one of us had been given
two hands with which to labor, but now we were to
learn. Like some child learning to walk, making slow
progress yet growing stronger with every effort, the
New South was building better than she knew.
In January, IS66, the negroes left the old plantations and sought other homes. At first they went into
camp near some department of the Freedman's Bureau
and demanded to be fed.  This demand was complied
with. Then the request was made for the "Forty acres
and a mule," which had been promised them by their
Northern friends. WVhen these were not forthcoming,
a howl of rage fi'led the land.  Disgusted at this, provisions ceased to be rationed out and the negroes were
told to hunt work.
Throughout the year i866, they were trying to adjust themselves to some form of employment, which
would give them food and shelter without work. Failing in this, the year I867 would have been hard on
them but for the fact that cotton rose to such an attractive price that the planters thought they saw a future, both for themselves and for the negroes. Enthusiastic men, imbued with the idea of making anew, fortunes from the fleecy stap'e, hired the negroes under the
impression that they were still reliable farm hands,
who could be trusted to make now, as they had done
in slavery times, a heavy cr6p of cotton. "King Cotton" ruled once more and we had hope, if nothing else.
The homes of the South, even in those parts where
the enemy had not had the opportunity to strip them,
had been shorn of almost everything in the effort to
help our soldiers. Men, women and children lacked the
clothing needful for comfort and there was no money
with which to purchase these necessaries. The whole
country began to have a shabby appearance and this
cotton crop was looked forward to with delight.
345 
The Years of Reconstruction
In the Spring of i866, Dr. Bradford, like many
others, thought of going to Brazil. He offered his
Horse-shoe Plantation for sale and the first person to
make an offer was Major Hancock, of the Army of
Occupation. One cool bright Sunday morning in January he came and requested to be shown over the plantation, as he did not care to purchase until he had satisfied himself that it was worth the price asked.
Dr. Bradford could not accompany him so requested
Captain Taylor, his son-in-law, to do so. Major Hancock wore over his blue suit an overcoat of white fur,
it ftted rather loosely and he rode his horse a la Yankee. Captain Taylor had on a Confederate uniform,
which came via Nassau, just previous to the surrender,
consequently it was quite new and the gold lace and
brass buttons had neither been removed nor covered.
He rode a splendid horse, one he had used in Virginia
and, though it was thin enough when it first came home,
it was now in fine condition.  He was a skillful horseman and rode his steed with all ease and grace. As the
two men left the grove all remarked upon the difference
in appearance.
They were gone for hours and dinner was on the table
when they returned. Of course Major Hancock was
invited to stay to dinner, which he did. After dinner
he sat long with Dr. Bradford in the library, ostensibly
making arrangements to buy the plantation. The young
ladies of the family did not appear at dinner, but the
parlor was near enough for sounds of merry voices
to be heard by those in the library and Major Hancock
listened with much dissatisfaction.
Late in the afternoon, hearing the front door open,
he bade the doctor a hasty adieu and reached the door
just as Lieutenant Eppes, also dressed in Confederate
uniform, was descending the steps.
A formal bow passed between them and, as they
mounted their horses, the Major said:  "If you do not
object I shall ride along with you."
346 
The Birth of the New South
No objection was made and they rode in silence for
a time; then the Major said, "Why do you continue to
wear that uniform?  Don't you know the war is over?"
"Yes, I know that but you fellows haven't left us
anything to buy with and there is a law against dispensing with one's clothing."
"Is that a fact?" questioned he, then growing confidential, he went on to say he had been at Pine Hill
the greater part of the day, he had fooled the doctor
into thinking he wanted his plantation, when what he
really wanted was to get acquainted with the doctor's
daughter.
"Perhaps if I could get to know her I might be able
to kill two birds with one stone," he said. The vanity
of man!
But the Doctor had now given up all thought of going
to Brazil and once more he undertook the growing of
cotton.  The New South owes its re-habilitation to the
Old South and her friends. But for the commission
merchants of New York, there would have been only
failure for these war-worn veterans. They had dealt
with Southern planters for years before the outbreak
of the war; they had tested them out; they had proved
their honesty; they were well aware of the fact that
a Southerner's word was his bond and they did not hesitate to trust them in this fresh adventure in the financial world. God be praised that always, everywhere,
are found some men with hearts!
In this way the rebuilding of our fortunes was begun, but we had many other difficulties other than the
lack of money. The negroes had learned much of evil
from their carpetbagger friends, and it became dangerous for women and children unattended, to go abroad,
even in sight of their homes.
In the past they could have exclaimed, with Moore's
heroine,
347 
The Years of Reconstruction
"Sir Knight, I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin would offer me harm."
But fear, and terror, had taken the place of confidence
and, for safety, a large enclosure of some thirty acres
had been made adjoining the backyard at Pine Hill. It
had a high "stake and rider" fence, no entrance from
the Thomasville and Tallahassee road and a thick
growth of native viburnum, prickley ash, red oak and
pine screened it comp'letely from the eyes of the passersby. A short distance from the road a pretty pond was
surrounded by willows and the ground was thickly carpeted with flowers, such as grow near the waters-edge.
It was a truly delightful play-ground and here the horses
were turned out to graze and the boys to amuse themselves. The only convenient way to leave the enclosure
was to come through the yard and we had tried to impress it upon our youngsters that they must never climb
the fence, or indeed go near enough to the road to be
seen.
There always comes a day, however, when forbidden
fruit seems the fairest and one afternoon as we sat sewing, feeling that the boys were safe, we heard several
shots in quick succession and a child's scream.  A party
of negroes, returning from Tallahassee and drinking
heavily, had stopped by the branch to quench their thirst.
It so happened that at the same time the boys had resolved to climb the fence and go home by the road.
It was most unfortunate this should have occurred, for,
no sooner did the drunken negroes spy the three little
boys, (the eldest was only nine) than they began to
fire, round after round, at the little fellows.  If they
could have aimed true, no doubt they would all have
keen killed. TIhough the shot cut the shrubbery from
the road-side, the boys were not hurt. It is needless to
say they came through the yard after that.
"Festivals" were of frequent occurrence. We had
348 
The Birth of the New South
a good cook whose services (out of hours) were much
in req,uest among the negroes giving the festivals. Sometimes she gave one herself.  These frolics were disorderly in the extreme and, as they were countenanced
by the carpetbaggers, it was difficult to do anything
about it. Often murder resulted but it was hushed up
and, as there was no law save military law, unless the
authorities saw fit to investigate, it went by the board.
It was night at Pine Hill Plantation, and after a hard
day's work, we were so tired that every bone ached.
Two small chi'dren, one a baby in arms, had to have attention and, after bathing and dressing the tiny tots
for the night, we lay down beside the oldest one, on his
l1ttle trundle bed, and, with the baby clasped in loving
arms, began to tell a bed-time story.  Soon all three
were fast asleep. Tired as we were an unusual odor
intruded itself, a smell which never fails to bring recogn:tion, the sickening odor of fresh blood. We had
dogs and we thought it might be that they had been out
for game and had carried it under the house. Too
sleepy to carry the thought further, we were soon lost
to the world. The familiar and welcome step of our
liege lord, on the long piazza, roused us and we hastened to let him in at the door.  Both babies slept
soundly and we left them for the supper room. Here
broiled chicken, fragrant coffee, hot biscuit and fresh
butter were in waiting and, as all was quiet in the nursery, no haste was made.  Supper disposed of, the news
of the day was discussed and the day's happenings were
duly chronicled for our benefit. Returning, at last, to
the nursery, a frightful apparition met our eyes; a negro
man stood there.  From two terrible gashes, one in
the face and a longer one on the scalp, the blood oozed
slowly.
No need to wonder now whence had come the loathsome smell. His shirt was torn almost off of him and
from head to foot his clothing was soaked in blood.
349 
The Years of Reconstruction
Repressing a scream, lest we wake the babies, we clung
to our dear protector and he, after a searching look
said: "Spencer Davis, what are you doing in this
room?"
Not until he said this did we recognize the creature
before us. He was a carpenter employed on the place
and well liked by all, Respectful, obliging, rather more
faithful about his work than most of the free negroes,
he rarely had trouble with anyone. Now we listened
for his story. He opened his mouth, tried to speak and
fell full length at our feet.
"We must not let him die," said the man he served.
"Get some old linen and some sticking plaster, while
I get hot water."
Both of us knew how to dress wounds, having learned
in the war-times, and soon the fainting ngero was revived, the blood stanched and, after a stiff drink of
Bourbon, he told us how it happened.
We will spare you the lingo and tell it in our own
words.
He had been to a festival and there was a large crowd
with plenty to eat and far more than enough to drink.
He got into an altercation with another man and struck
him in the face, knocking him over backward. His head
hit the grindstone and Spencer was sure he had killed
him. The man's wife attacked him and in a minute,
drunken and enraged, the whole body of frolickers had
turned to vengeful demons and were trying to take "a
life for a life." How hie escaped he could not tell, but
terror lent wings and he made his way to the white folks,
who he was sure would help him.
"How did you get into my room when all the doors
were locked?" we asked.
"I clum in de windo' whilst you wus a-puttin' de
chillun ter bed an' I hid," he said. "I knowed dem
blood-houn's wouldn't nebber look in here fur me."
While he talked we could hear wild, hoarse cries
from "the quarter" and poor Spencer shuddered.
350 
The Birth of the New South
Helping him into our dressing room we locked him
in and betook ourselves and the children to an upstairs
apartment, where we could get away from such awful
surroundings. For two or three days he remained hidden in the smoke-house and then, when we assured him
the fellow he struck was well again, he ventured forth.
The episode was apparently forgotten, but not by us,
and barrel bolts supplemented the locks and fastenings made the windows secure. Spencer was duly grateful and remained on the plantation for years. The
horror of that moment when we faced the bloody
negro, will never be forgotten.
It was winter, it was also cold; the one does not always mean the other in Florida, and for nearly two
weeks the rain had fallen continuously. Now, on Christmas Eve, the sunr shone out and, though the wind was
cutting, we felt that we must take advantage of the
change in the weather to go to Tallahassee for Christmas gifts for the children. No automobiles in those
days and the roads were deep in mud and the farm
horses we drove had long ago lost spirit as farm horses
are apt to do. We made slow progress and the clock
was striking twelve as we entered town, so we had but
little time to shop. \We had accumulated many bundles
and we had only an errand or so and then we would
be ready to set out on the homeward journey. This
was at a time when the carpetbagger regime was in full
force and the police of Tallahassee were negroes, including the chief of police.
The town was thronged with colored people keeping
"Crismus." The farm wagon, in which we had come to
town, was standing in front of a newly opened store of
fancy groceries and we expected to make our last purchases there. Hurrying along, lest it be black night
ere we reached home, we suddenly felt ourselves pushed
35I 
The Years of Reconstruction
violently from the crowded side-walk into the middle
of the muddy street. The sidewalk was some feet above
the street at that point and the fall was hard and with
such force that we made a deep imprint in the mud and
slush. As we fell, a familiar voice exclaimed, "Tak'
dat, you dirty nigger."
Quic!k as thought a pair of strong arms were supporting us and we felt ourselves once more upon the sidewalk and looking in the face of a tall, fine-looking young
negro in the uniform of the chief of police; he was no
other than Archer, Aunt Dinah's youngest son, and
owned bv us in the davs of slavery.
"My Mistis," he said, "is dat nasty nigger hurt you?
I dun showed him what'll happen to any o' dem what
meddles my white folks." Sure enough there he lay
in the street, apparently dead.
"Oh, Archer!" we cried, "you have kil'ed him!"
"No, Miss Sue," he reulied, "I ain't dun' him half
bad enuf, dis here club kin stun, but hit don't kill."
Tenderlv he tried to wipe off the filthy mud and,
walking beside us, he soon found our liege lord, who
waited for us at the new store; he was standing bv his
horses, in conversation with Senator Conover, Florida's
carpetbag reuresentative in the United States Senate.
The Senator lool,ed on with a shocked expression while
Archer recounted the adventure. When he had finished
his explanation, he touched his cap respectfully and
turning to us he said:
"When you cums ter town you jis''member dat it's
your own niqger is chief er perlice, an' he ain't gwine
ter let nobody hurt you."
In davs gone by this could not have happened, behold the leaven of the carpetbagger; surely it was working to the detriment of both white and black. The political status had changed as entirely as had the financial
situation. In i867-'8 the Black Republican Party pur
352 
The Birth of the New South
chased the Florida Sentinel, formerly a Whig organ,
and published by decent men.  We have forgotten if the
name was changed, but the character certainly was, as
evidenced by the verses which were published therein,
and presented in the next chapter.
353 
CHAPTER III
NEGRO RIGHTS
All dat de white folks got is ouren,
Wre'll git it, sure's you born,
De cows, de pigs, de chickens,
De cotton an' de corn.
Wid de ax we'll smash de smoke-house door,
Whey de shoulders an' hams hang high,
Wid sassiges an' pigs feet
Ready fur us ter fry.
We'll res' in de Marster's parlor,
An' den we'll help ourselves,
Ter de cakes, de jams, de jellies
What sets on de pantry shelves.
When we is eat all us kin hold
An' can't tote off no more,
We'll stick a great big littud torch
Inside de Marster's door.
We'll sing an' shout, an' dance about,
An' watch de flames go higher,
An' de white folks dassent raise a hand
Ter outen out de fire.
HESE incendiary lines called forth indignant pro    test from many sources. Had these come from the
South alone it would probably have been disregarded,
but we still had some'friends at the North and, in
England was a growing regret that they had left the
South to fight her battles unaided. Lord Haughton's
answer to Father Ryan's Conquered Banner expresses
this feeling:
Gallant Nation, foiled by numbers,
Say not that your hopes are dead
Keep that glorious Flag that slumbers,
One day to avenge your dead.
(354) 
Negro Rights
Keep it, widowed, son-less mothers,
Keep it, sisters, mourning brothers,
Furl it with an iron will;
Furl it now, but-keep it, still;
Think not that its work is done.
Keep it till your children take it,
Once again to hail and make it
All their sires have bled and fought
All their noble hearts have sought
Bled and fought for, all alone.
All alone! Aye, shame the story,
Millions here deplore the stain,
Shame alas! for England's glory,
Freedom called and called in vain.
Furl that Banner sadly, slowly,
Treat it gently, for'tis Holy.
Till that day-yes, furl it sadly,
Then once more un-furl it gladly  Conquered Banner-Keep it, still.
Finding public sentiment too strong to be ignored,
the management of the paper was changed and it became much less objectionable. A man who called himself Saunders, and seemed to be able to walk unlimited
miles without tiring, made incendiary speeches throughout the county. Gin-houses were fired; many bales of
cotton were destroyed; dwelling houses were watched
by the occupants thereof, night and day; sometimes
torches were found and extinguished before it was too
late and occasionally a dwelling burned to the ground.
Life became a horrid night-mare.
Crimes, too vile for words became of frequent occurrence and it came to be, in what had once been considered the centre of civilization, that "every man's
home was his castle" in reality. Guns and pistols were
kept loaded and ready; yes, and the women and children,
the larger ones, were taught to use these weapons for
their personal protection.
355
for,
for, 
The Years of Reconstruction
It was as though even our Heavenly Father had deserted us. No light of promise illumined our sky but
all was darkness and gloom. Only love, that greatest
of blessings, kept us from utter despair. Love is strong
and stimulates exertion, and we held our heads high
and put a bold front in evidence wherever we could.
One Sunday we attended service at dear old Mount
Zion. The minister, a middle aged man from West
Virginia, had been most kindly treated in the Bradford
neighborhood; he had been on the circuit for years and
at every home in the neighborhood he and his family
had been entertained, sometimes for weeks.  In the
event of a lengthy visit, a nurse was provided for the
children. If the minister's wife had any sewing she
wished done, the family seamstress was at her disposal;
if material was lacking, Tallahassee was near at hand
and there was an account at every store in town. Life
was easy for the lady in question, while these visits
lasted and both she and her husband expressed gratitude.
We had heard that he had made some unwelcome
remarks in the pulpit at Pisgah, but we did not wish to
condemn him unheard and, on this bright'and beautiful
Sunday morning, a large congregation had gathered at
Mount Zion to hear him preach, and each had come provided for a liberal addition to "the plate," when it
should be passed. The minister was a little late-tall
awkward, lanky man, with pale yellow hair, which clung
closely to an ill shaped head and watery blue eyes of the
palest tint imaginable. He was not pleasing to the sight
but the attendants at the old church had not been raised
to criticise the man of God, but to be respectful and
attentive.
After the preliminary services, he took for his text
Mark, ioth chapter, 25th verse. "It is easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich
man to enter the kingdom of God."
356 
Negro Rights
A long pause followed the reading of the text, then
he proceeded to expatiate upon the danger of riches;
the evil effect the holding of great possessions had upon
the human heart; the ultimate damnation of the rich
man and the utter impossibility of salvation for such
a one.
It was a lengthy sermon, harping ever upon the text.
At the last he extended his long arms and raising his
voice he shouted out, "But now, thank God, we are all
poor alike." His palms came together with a resounding clap.
Again extending the black-sleeved arms, he cried out
in a still louder voice, "Yes, we are all poor alike, thank
God we are all poor alike. No high, no low, the Great
Leveller has swept the earth and we are all poor alike.
Thank God! Thank God!!
It is needless to say that the Reverend
never preached again for the Bradford neighborhood
and the doors of Mount Zion closed upon him forever.
To rejoice in the misfortunes of others is not commendable at any time, but, it was doubly contemptible,
when the sufferers had once been his benefactors. He
still continued in the Florida Conference but we have
never forgotten the almost demoniacical expression on
his sallow face as he exulted in our reverses.
357 
CHAPTER IV
THE KU KLUX KLAN
ITH the advent of the year i866, the situation
grew worse and worse. Carpetbaggers swarmed
down upon the land, sowing the seeds of hate and discord between the whites and blacks. So successful were
they in this nefarious work, that but little else was
known and there were secret meetings held by the
blacks, presided over by these aforesaid carpetbaggers.
Incendiary speeches were made and the torch was
openly advocated by these demons in human form.
Something clearly, must be done, but what?
Near Washington, Georgia, lived some scions of
the old families of the South and these men had, for
the most part, been first school boys together, then
they had been college mates and then comrades in arms.
This last tie was strongest of all and now, that a common danger confronted them all, they met to consider
some plan of action.
We will not try to give you a history of the famous
Ku Klux Klan. Almost in the twinkling of an eye, the
country was over-run by ghostly riders, on horses, whose
feet made no sound; fiery crosses, borne aloft by fleshless hands; fearful voices, which struck terror to the
souls of their hearers. Here one minute and gone the
next, riding like mad through groups of frightened
negroes; caring not who was stricken down by the
noiseless hoofs of these mighty steeds.
Where, heretofore, it had been the custom to hold
the meetings we have described, several times a week,
now some secluded spot was sought by the leading carpet knights and only now and then could a crowd be
collected, the fear of the Fiery Cross and the ghostly
riders was so great.
(358) 
The Ku Klux Klan
When the group of men who organized the Ku Klux
first engaged in it they planned a disguise, which was
as simple as it was effective, being nothing more nor
less than a sheet, in which some slits were made, for
convenience in arranging it to suit the wearer. To
strengthen these slits, bindings of black were used and,
so much did the touch of black add to the frightful
appearance, that still more was used and now and then
a dash of red.
Of course the ladies made these robes and it often
fell to their lot to hide them as well, for the military
authorities spared no pains to discover the identity
of the supernatural riders, who struck terror to the
hearts of both the negroes and their Yankee friends.
There was no law but military law in those days, and
as no search warrant was needed, the dwelling houses
were entered and searched at any hour of the day or
night.
Not often, however, were the robes found and woe
to the men of the family if a Ku Klux robe was found
on the premises. They were immediately arrested and
nothing short of "The Dry Tortugas" was considered
a sufficient punishment.
More than once have we known the disguise to be
tightly tied in a bundle and dropped into the well, to be
patiently fished out when the officers of the law were
gone. One dear old grandmother sat on a cushion made
of three robes belonging to her three grandsons. She
was always too deaf to hear, too blind to see and yet
so polite and so ready to rise from her chair to have
it investigated, that the cushion was never ripped open,
which would have disclosed her secret. You doubtless
have read of other klans than this one we are telling
you of, but these incidents came to us at first hand.
One member of this band was particularly fertile
in imagination and, through him, came in the most
frightful features of the Klan. Dr. William Carr came
359 
The Years of Reconstruction
of an old Georgia family, which had come hither from
the state of Virginia. Highly educated, he was practicing medicine when the War Between the States began and now, having served the four years of war, he
was ready to do still more for his country. In his office hung an articulated skeleton and also a human arm,
which could be moved easily by pulling on the wires.
In anatomical experiments, Dr. Carr had used a large
rubber bag, holding twelve gallons of liquid; these suggested possibilities to his mind, for it was necessary to
keep the negroes frightened and to do that something
new must be seen. For two weeks nothing had been
seen or heard of the Ku Klux. On the heavily wooded
side of a large pond or lake, the negro population of
the entire country had gathered at the urgent call of
their white exhorters. The meeting was at its height
and Ichabod Crane himself could not have spoken more
earnestly nor could his tones have been more painfully nasal. Groans and cries of "Yes, Lord"-"Dat's
so"-"Ain't dat de trufe," and similar negro expressions from time to time interrupted the speaker. Secure
in the thought that "de white folks kan't fin' us here,"
excitement grew greater with every sentiment from the
speaker and every groan from the audience.
Suddenly a terrified scream came from the thick lips
of a negro woman standing on the out-skirts and it was
speedily echoed from every side. Slowly came a mighty
throng of white-robed figures on horseback; in front
rode the bearer of "The Cross of Fire;" behind him
came, not "a Skeleton in Armor" but a skeleton clothed
in nothing at all. A white robe like that worn by his
companions floated from its back, fire gleamed from the
empty skull and the outlines showed up in lines of fire.
Closely following him, came his sheeted brothers. Slowly they came at first but as the terrified darkies took to
the road, or ran pell-mell into the heavy brush, the Ku
Klux speeded their horses and ran after the fleeing
360 
The Ku Klux Klan
congregation and their not less frightened leaders.
It was a month or more before another meeting was
held and this time it was in another county and a guard
was set, causing a feeling of security to prevail. Far
back in the woods in a large house, deserted by its owners and falling to decay, the negroes decided to meet.
A well of good water was on the premises and six of
the number had been told to act as guards, one being
stationed at the well. Sleep is the negro's strong point.
He can keep awake with the best if some noise is going
on but, give him a comfortable seat and quiet, and sleep
"steals on him unawares." Two hours after the speaking had begun the guards were sleeping "the sleep of
the just." The night had been slightly cloudy but the
moon suddenly shone forth in all her splendor, just
as a lone Ku Klux drew rein at the well. The sleeping
negro awoke to look straight at this awful visitant and
then he yelled. Such screams might well have waked
the dead and the meeting broke up in great confusion
and the participants hurried in the direction of the
sounds. Seeing only one Ku Klux, they thought it was
a good time to show their courage so closed about him.
In a loud, sepulchral voice the ghost said, "I am from
HELL and I am burning up. Come to the well and
draw me some water."
Afraid to disobey, the trembling negro took the wind lass and, when the bucket appeared, he took the gourd
which hung by the well and was about to hand it to
Mr. Spook, when it was violently struck from his hand
and the gentleman from Hell demanded the bucket.
"Did I not tell you I am burning up?" he cried.
Raising the bucket he drained it to the bottom and
demanded another bucket to quench his thirst. Another
and another were drawn and drained until ten buckets
ful had been disposed of. This so staggered the crowd
that none was willing to lay hands on the thirsty crea ture.
36i 
The Years of Reconstruction
Raising his voice, he let forth such a stream of imprecations as had never been heard and, ere he had
finished, a full two-score of his companions had silently ridden up behind the crowd and scattered them to
the four winds, trampling them in the dirt, when they
did not move fast enough to keep out of the way.
That put a stop to out-door meetings and in fact, to
all gatherings, for a long time. Then, getting a little
over their fear of the ghost who drank ten buckets
of water, they held a meeting during the week, at a favorite church. Nothing disturbed the quiet of the evening save their own not inconsiderable noise. The meeting was over and the door, which had been closed and
barred, was opened, when a white, gleaming, highly polished hand and arm, naked of flesh and rattling horribly, was extended into the door. This was followed
by a foot, which held the door open and a voice from
the grave, presumably, said:
"Dave, you and Pompey come here, your old Marster wants to shake hands with his faithful old servants."
Notbody wanted to shake hands and inside was a
mighty scramble to get out. The windows were forced
open and "Old Marster" was left to laugh at the success of the ruse.
That was the last meeting attempted by the negroes
of the vicinity, however, the Ku Klux Klan did not disband but the organization was kept up until order was
restored and then, to quote Grover Cleveland, the order
"fell into innocuous desuetude," the need for its existence being past.
What we have told is but a truthful account of a
small part of Georgia. What happened in Georgia
happened in many other places, for the Southerners had
their patience sorely tried and there was nothing they
could do but "take up arms against a sea of troubles
and by opposing, end them."
362 
CHAPTER V
THE SOUTHERN WOMAN'S MEMORIAL ASSOCIATION
HIS was the first association of Southern women
after the War Betwen the States. Perhaps it was the
first in which the women of the land had regarded
themselves in a sectional light. The War was over and
in every home there was a vacant chair. In most homes
there was more than one. Sick at heart and lonely beyond the telling, one impulse moved them all; if only
they could erect monuments to their beloved dead.
Some, who had not been left so poverty-stricken,
hastened to do this but to the women of Florida even
this poor comfort was denied, for they were so poor
that it was difficult to supply the daily needs of their
households. Oftentimes it was impossible, for there
were no extra dollars and dimes so they must wait.
We do not know when or how it became the custom
for social functions, of a public nature, to be held in the
Florida State Capitol, but such has been the case from
the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The Tournament Balls were always held there, and in the childhood
of "Ye Scribe," Professor Dusenberry had a dancing
school somewhere within its walls and Blind Tom gave
many concerts in the Hall of Representatives. Whenever local talent wished to disport itself, this same hall
was pressed into service and after the war was over
the great "Gee Festival" was held there. Fancy dress
Balls, New Year Balls, Inauguration Balls, all these
had a place there, but in December, in the year of our
Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-six, the Capitol was
staged for a very different play and a far different setting.
Making a plan, the women of the Memorial Association had worked most diligently and now, from St.
(363) 
The Years of Reconstruction
Mary's to Key West, from St. Augustine to Pensacola, from every hamlet and village the women of
Florida came, laden with the work of their own hands,
seeking to raise money to erect a monument to the memory of the Soldier Dead, whom they had loved so well.
From St. Augustine, the Nuns, Heaven bless them, had
brought Spanish work, such as they only could make;
lace of cobweb fineness and embroideries, which might
have been done by fairy fingers; baby dresses, which
would fill every mother's heart with longing; all these
and more.
From Pensacola came many beautiful things, among
them some priceless Spanish relics, held by their owners
as precious heirlooms, but yielded up now because of
the great love they bore their dead. Key West displayed the most exquisite shell work and sets of jewelry, made of fish scales and many lovely articles besides. The women all over the state sent dainty handwork. There were paintings, too, of no low order of
merit, and these paintings were framed by the same loving fingers which wielded the brush. The materials
used for the frames were pine cones, from which ferns
and other foliage were made with flowers, or grapes of
kid, all finished with shellac. Every fruit known to
Florida was represented at this fair; put up in glass,
the translucent beauty of the contents attracted all eyes.
Cakes, made by capable house-keepers and ornamented
by skillful fingers, drew forth many expressions of wonder and admiration; home-made candies in great variety and dozens of other things, which memory does
not at this moment recall.
From far and near with loving hearts they had
brought their treasures and now, with soft steps, they,
the black-robed figures moved around the hall of Representatives, placing their offerings to the best advantage, on table or in show-cases. Of course there were
some bright dresses but nearly every woman in the
364 
The Southern Woman's Memorial Association
gathering of the daughters of Florida, wore the heavy
black, which speaks so plainly of death and bereavement. Never before or since has the old Capitol opened its doors on such a scene.
Our country was poverty-stricken and the sales were
slow. The prices were small, indeed, comjared with
the value of the articles offered, but we did not lose
heart, and for seventeen long years the women of the
Memorial Association let no opportunity pass to sell
something, which would add to the sum brought in by
the fair.
By this time it was well understood that when a sufficient sum of money should be raised a committee, selected by the votes of the Association, from different
parts of our State, should be appointed to select a design and an inscription and erect the monument in the
Capitol Grounds at Tallahassee to Florida's heroic
dead. These conditions were not complied with but
in 1 882 a few women ordered a marble shaft and, without consulting the Association, had an inscription carved
upon it, which gave us the heartache and made us feel
that our work had been in vain.
In the South are many monuments to the Confederate Heroes and in every town of any size, in our sister
state of Georgia, the first thing you see on entering it
is this memorial to "The Lost Cause." No doubt it
is the same in other states, but we venture to say there
is not one among the number as small and insignificant,
as plain and badly executed as this one, which the women of Florida placed in the grounds of Florida's Capitol, in memory of the men who fought and died for us;
men whose glory will shine forth to the end of time.
Perhaps, who knows, some day the granddaughters
of these Women of the Confederacy, looking at this
shabby shaft, will say, one to another, "What a bitter
disappointment it must have been to our grandmothers
to see the fruits of their labors dwindle down to this.
365 
The Years of Reconstruction
We are no longer poverty-stricken, we have plenty and
to spare, let us band together and erect in Capitol
Square, a monument which would gladden the eyes of
those devoted women; a monument which shall be worthy of the cause it commemorates."
May this dream come true, dear grandchildren of
our past.
366 
CHAPTER VI
THE HOSPITALITY OF THE NEW SOUTH
LL  the world and his wife have heard of the bound   less hospitality of the Old South but few of this
present generation have realized it. For real true love of
his fellow-man, the old-time Southerner has no equal. It
was a genuine delight to him to gather his friends
about him, to spend days and weeks in entertaining
them, in spreading before them, for their delectation
all luxuries that money could buy. Nor was it only
his friends who were made welcome; the friends of
his friends found doors and hearts open to them when
they came duly recommended. This was truly necessary, for this old-time Southerner was very particular
who entered his sanctum, the sacredness of home was
never forgotten. He must know who it was he was
expected to receive but, once satisfied on that score, all
was well.  Nor did his hospitality end there, for the
stranger within his gates, however lowly he might be,
received a full meed of kindness, politeness and consideration. Aristocrat, he might be, but he was certainly democratic in the polite treatment accorded to
all respectable folks. For such as he did not consider
respectable, there was no place. With servants galore
and money to spare, there was practically no limit to
this far-famed hospitality.  All this was as it should
have been but because of this prodigality the New South
suffered. In homes where the latch-string hung on the
outside in other days, these new Southerners had to
entertain, whether they wished or no. Kinspeople and
friends had long been accustomed to come and go as
they liked, without the preliminary note or message. A
carriage would roll up and the occupants would alight
and a hearty welcome was, in every instance, expected.
(367) 
The Years of Reconstruction
Perhaps changes had come to their own homes but
never once did they ever realize that changes had come
to these relatives also.
No servants, or perhaps just one, who was simply
a helper to the busy mistress of the household. On
the pantry shelves, where, in former days all the goodies
which could be made, found a place, now stand empty
jars or no jars at all; a little of this needful food-stuff
or of that. Where once nothing smaller than a barrel
of flour found place, sits now a small sack and the
sugar bucket is often empty. The instincts of former
hospitality are not lacking but the materials for taking
care of guests certainly are.
Yet to these poverty-stricken homes guests come;
just as they did in the years of plenty.  The worm
turned at last, trodden too often under the foot of
"hard times." The house-mothers of this New South
used their ingenuity and devised other ways of showing affection for their relatives and friends.  Houseparties became more and more infrequent, spend-theday parties were occasional events and evening entertainments were most popular. The weeks of visiting,
the coming of uninvited guests, the practical turning of
one's home into a hostelry, is over forever. The New
South has learned its limitations. Is it to be deplored
or is it not? In these latter days, when the housekeeper
takes her guests to the tea-room, the country club, the
many and varied resorts of this pleasure-loving world,
to the "movies," the golf links or the tennis courts,
anywhere but to her own home. It is hard to believe
that our ancestors took such trouble to entertain.
The sanctuary of the heart, that was what HOME
once meant but now, in this year of our Lord nineteen
and twenty-six, it is a place to come back to when there
is nothing else doing, a place in which to sleep and
possibly to eat, though that depends. If you have no
servants  (and they are sometimes hard to get and
368 
The Hospitality of the New  South
hard to keep) then the cafe is the first thought, or if
you are a little more particular, then the tea room.
There is no time for the home. If you want to rest,
why, there is the Cinnema, where, under the cooling
breezes brought about by the ever-present electric fan,
your tired nerves are soothed and your mind is filled
by the thrilling scenes depicted upon the screen.
What does it matter if the old-fashioned virtues are
laid aside and forgotten?'Tis said that history repeats itself. The repetition may bring about a different
situation and we may again see the old-time hospitality
of the Old South, but this generation will have everything to learn if such should be the case.
"Sitting beside the fire-side of the heart,
Feeding its flames,"
has gone out of style.
369 
CHAPTER VII
A NEW BEGINNING
UTWARDLY the Old South was dead, her econo  mic system was in ruins, her wealth had taken
wings, her man-power was depleted   Heart-sick and
weary the Southerner gathered up the threads of life
and essayed to travel the rough and stony path before
him. In this he was aided and upheld by that which has
ever been to man an inspiration and a light in the dark
hours of life, the unselfish love of woman. Heavy-hearted, she resolutely put aside all semblance of woe. Unused
to labor, she performed the heaviest and most disagreeable tasks with a smile and a song. Deprived of all
the little accessories to dainty housewifery she beautified her home with flowers and sunshine-and her men
were well worth the effort.
Just how many backs ached beneath the unaccustomed
burdens; just how many sleepless nights were passed
because the tired limbs and weary brain made sleep impossible, will never be known. Some fell by the wayside, "wearied with the march of life." Some turned
their faces in another direction, and sought "green
fields and pastures new," but for the most part the men
of the South stood as firmly by their country in these
dark days of Reconstruction as they had done when
fighting for her rights in-battle array.
The men who worked out the redemption of the
South through Reconstruction were super-men. Homelife in the South was changed beyond the telling. Where
once wealth abounded, poverty stalked, gaunt and bare.
Where once the willing service of the blacks made the
household machinery move smoothly on, while conversation was carried on or company entertained, the
guests must either sit alone, while the head of the house
(370) 
A  New Beginning
feeds and waters his horse and his wife prepares the
meal, with which he would later be regaled. Or, the
guest must follow the steps of his entertainers, to snatch
a word here and there, or if in an accommodating humor, assist in the household tasks. There was always
a baby to be cared for, sometimes, two or three, and
one had only to look around to find opportunity for
usefulness.
The negroes grew increasingly idle and hard to control and higher and higher wages they demanded but
the work accomplished did not warrant the outlay. The
cotton planter was fast going to the wall. For so long
we had thought "cotton is king" that it Was hard to
believe otherwise, yet we found starvation staring us
in the face, and every peg on which a hope could hang
was eagerly sought after.
In our own state of Florida, the carpetbaggers had
plunged the State into a perfect slough of despond of
debt. Florida was looked upon by outsiders as the
abiding place of snakes, lizards and alligators. When
the natives of this reptile-infested country were not
shaking with a chill they were scorching with a fever.
Although Florida's acreage was large, there were no facilities for transportation.   Capitol hooted when invited to invest in a land which was lovely beyond words
and was possessed of a climate, which would one day
draw thousands upon thousands seeking investment.
Lands had but little value.  Many left for foreign
countries, failing to recognize the fact that Florida
was really the "Paradise of the Gods." Such a struggle as it was even to exist, during those years, and the
bitterest part was the political situation. Negroes sat
in the legislative halls in our Capitol, negroes filled
most of the county offices throughout the State. the
few white men holding office were either "carpetbaggers" or "scalawags," and no choice between them.
In our courts, justice was an unknown quantity; the
37I 
The Years of Reconstruction
"Sword of Damocles" hung over us day in and day out.
It is always darkest just before day they say. Our
God holds out a helping hand to us, though we sometimes fail to see it and so, into this political maelstrom
stepped William D. Bloxham, a man of unusual ability
and force of character, and a native Floridian. Young,
talented, highly educated, he gave of his gifts freely
to save his people.  William D. Bloxham had married,
early in life, Miss Mary Davis, of Virginia, a lovely
woman in every sense of the word.
Born to the purple, an "F. F. V.," she proved to
be just the helpmate he needed. Her gentle hand was
strong as iron when it came to holding him to the
straight and narrow path.  In his later years he was
often heard to say, "All that I am I owe to my wife."
Bravely this young and attractive woman stayed at home
and held together the fast diminishing farming interests of Captain Bloxham, while he fought the political
battles of Florida, as earnestly as he had faced the foe,
in the days of real warfare.
Traversing the State, from end to end, he-had an opportunity to learn much of Florida's needs and her
resources and this man of wonderful memory never
forgot what he had once learned. Through defeat and
disaster, through the long, weary hours of rough and
uncomfortable travel, through the excitement of final
triumph, he never lost sight of the decisions he had
made as to the best thing to be done for the welfare
of his native state. It would take volumes to tell of
all he has done for Florida.
As leader of the forlorn hopes of the Democratic
Party, he met, and bore cheerfully, one defeat after
another. A less confident and courageous man would
have laid down his arms and ceased the seemingly useless struggle; not so with William D. Bloxham. Nobly
seconded by the soldiers who had worn the gray, he
led his followers against the oppression of the Freed
372 
-A New Beginning
man's Bureau; the reckless spending of the State's
money and the utter ruin which stared her citizens in
the face.  Deeper and deeper in debt with;every passing month, there seemed no hope, for poor Florida
seemed doomed. Individually, her citizens were growing needy; there seemed to be nothing her people could
attempt, which was not absolutely ruined by the trail
of this Black Republican Serpent. We grew desperate,
and do you wonder?
At the polls on election day, United States troops
were stationed, no fair election could beheld, so how
could we get out of this loathsome trap, into which our
enemies had forced us?  "Fight the Devil with fire,'
did you ever see it done? In eighteen hundred and
seventy-six the people of Florida, led by our own Bloxham, put forward, as nominee for the Democratic Party,
George F. Drew, a Northerner by birth but a Floridian
by adoption, a man of considerable wealth, of spotless
character and of business ability.  With George F.'
Drew for governor and William D. Bloxham as lieu-'
tenant-governor, the Ship of State might succeed iri
weathering the storm.
As usual in every campaign, Bloxham toured the
state; his matchless eloquence drew crowds of listeners, even his political opponents seemed unable to stay
away.  In all parts of the State, able men worked for
the Democratic candidates and- if we could have a fair
election we were sure of success.
While this was going on in Florida, the great, big
Nation was in the throes of a red-hot presidential campaign; Samuel J. Tilden. against Rutherford B. Hayes.
It was a, crucial point in the history of the Republican
Party.  Everything, with them, depended on holding
on to the reins of government.  Fraud and corruption
stalked in hideous nakedness throughout the length
and breadth of the land. We had borne the burden of
Reconstruction for ten long years, we were sick at"
373 
The Years of Reconstruction
heart and weary. All that human effort could do had
been done and now, with bated breath, we waited the
action of the "Returning Board."
There were mysterious whispers in the air, men
gathered in knots on the city streets, they stood in earnest talk beneath shady trees on the roadside. Two
strangers had come to town and, strange to say, though
they came from Washington, their business was with
our own men and not the Carpetbaggers. What it all
meant we did not know but have a little patience and
soon it will leak out.
More strangers came, a room was rented, a number
of our representative citizens were called into consultation, a few preliminaries were settled and lo and behold a convention was in session, in the little city of
Tallahassee, to decide some questions of great importance.
Day after day they sat in secret session, then one
morning there was a crowd at the depot in Tallahassee. There was much of jollity and merriment, some
of the Republican lights were there, notably the two
Chandlers, Zack and Bill. Never friends, they were
now on the same errand. Mrs. Bill Chandler accompanied her husband and being fond of a joke she had
chalked on her valise, such as every man carried on his
travels, in those days, "William Chandler-No Relation to Zach." This might have been a good joke but
for the fact that the despised "Zach" had, in some
manner, gotten hold of the inscription and he, too, was
walking around with his valise, conspicuously placed,
placarded thus, "Zach Chandler-No Kin to Bill."
These two travelers had to meet many jokes and
jibes from their companions and the train moved off
with much laughter and cheers from the by-standers
at the station.
A tense excitement pervaded the air and we were
on the qui vive for that which might happen next. Soon
374 
id New Beginning
it developed that this Returning Board had carefully
canvassed the vote of Florida and it was officially announced that the entire Democratic ticket had been
elected but the state had gone overwhelmingly for the
Republican presidential candidate, Rutherford B.
Hayes.
The rejoicing was great when we knew, for a certainty, that our ticket was really elected but there was
"a crumple in the rose-leaf." The Carpetbaggers had
control of the government of Florida. It was rumored
that they did not interid to let Drew take his seat in
the gubernatorial chair.
The day of the inauguration drew near. If there
had been excitement before it was doubled and trebled
now. Men, with grim determination in their faces,
cleaned their guns and loaded up; pistols were looked
over and fired to make sure they were ready for duty.
Florida women had the heart-ache that day, for they
had learned to dread all things in politics. For years
their men had carried the ballot boxes to the Court
House at the peril of their lives and sometimes horses
hoofs had to be padded to insure against a footfall
betraying the carrier of the ballot box, while negroes
with guns waited by the road-side for their coming,
prepared to have the box at all hazards. This work
of the following day was a daytime affair, in the open
town, in the Capitol Square the gathering of whites
and negroes would take place.
On the inaugural morning, the sun rose angry and
red; a murky, yellow cloud obscured its light somewhat, the air was still, like a calm before a storm.
Governor Stearns and his satellites held the fort in the
Capitol; by eight o'clock the negroes began to collect
in the Capitol grounds and by nine o'clock the streets
were full of them.  By ten o'clock they were beginning
to get a little impatient, still not a white man appeared.
The town clock tolled out eleven and, as though sum
375 
The Years of Reconstruction
moned by the call of the old clock, there appeared, almost simultaneously, from four different directions,
large bodies of white men-armed to the teeth. A look
into their faces, as they rode into town, was sufficient
to tell they were in dead earnest. Slowly they came
and silently, as though no words were needed and, as
they filed into the town and surrounded the capitol
square, the negroes trembled and began to scatter.
Wherever they could find a hiding place they lost no
time in occupying it and there was a very noticeable
decrease in the black hordes, which had paraded the
streets so noisily a short time before.
Drew and Bloxham, accompanied by a few others,
walked slowly up the steps of the eastern portico and
took their stand. There were some angry words inside
the capitol; the big doors, which had been closed,
opened, disclosing Stearns and Conover with others of
their ilk.
The white men had filled capitol square by this time
and nearly every black face had disappeared; just how
many were inside the capitol building none knew.  Suddenly the air was rent with cheers and yells, coming
from the direction of the depot.  Louder and louder
they grew, nearer and nearer they came.  Some of these
new-comers wearing red shirts, some waved red flags.
Yelling like demons, they rushed into the square carload after car-load of men, eager to. help with the inauguration.  Armed men they were, no idle threats
and the Carpetbaggers and negroes, recognized this
fact and the inauguration proceeded quietly.
Not a sound was heard except from the solemn group
on the east portico.  There was not standing room in
capitol square and the streets were full; the silence was
intense.  W'hen all was over and these men, who for
ten years had been working for this end, realized that
they had succeeded, that once again they had Home
Rule  the famous "Rebel Yell" went up like incense
to Heaven.
37b 
A,4 New Beginning
Just how thankful they were none may know, but
though the words were unspoken, or rather unsung,
in every heart echoed that grand old "doxology:"
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye Heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost."
Our story is ended. We have carried you with us
through twenty-six years of more than usual interest.
We have sought to give you an insight into the domestic,
the social and the political life of the South during that
period. To do this we have had recourse to several
sources.   Carefully culling from "The Diary" such
leaves as seemed to us to throw light on the subject,
we have supplemented these with a more extended review of some things; it may be we have left out some
domestic happenings, which might have proved interesting to the public, but we did not wish to be tiresome.
We have recorded the actual facts, the characters are
genuine, even the names are real. We have shown you
the Southland both in PEACE and in WAR. We have
pictured for you the heart-break of her conquered people, you have gone with us through the years of "Reconstruction" and we have let you see the "bright star
of hope," which rose for us, when, in return for Florida's Presidential vote she'was given "Home Rule."
We leave you here. Some day another pen than
ours will finish the tale.  You will hear of the deep
content which settled over our land after the inauguration of Governor Drew; you will be told of the terrible
awakening to the fact that the "Carpetbag Administration" had plunged Florida into a quagmire of debt,
which threatened to engulf us all; of the heavy taxation, made necessary by this debt and the dire poverty
it entailed upon our people.
377 
The Years of Reconstruction
This new pen can tell of the Herculean strength, the
Socratic wisdom, with which the fierce political battles
were fought. You will come to know the native Floridian, who came to the front and, by his wise management, paid off this mountain-load of indebtedness and
how, when this incubus was removed, the State forged
straight ahead and, best of all, you will hear that in this
year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Twenty-six,
there is in all God's World no fairer land than Florida,
OUR FLORIDA.
378