Raiders 325
CONFEDERATE LOVE SONG 349
CONCLUSION 351
APPENDIX 354
INTRODUCTION.
I am asked to write a few words of introduction to these reminiscences of
a lady who, in the pleasant afternoon of a life devoted to deeds of mercy
and charity, turns fondly and sympathetically to the past. But there is
nothing to be said. What word of mine could add to the interest that
inheres in this unpretentious record of a troubled and bloody period? The
chronicle speaks for itself, especially to those who remember something of
those wonderful days of war. It has the charm and the distinction of
absolute verity, a quality for which we may look in vain in more elaborate
and ambitious publications. Here indeed, is one of the sources from which
history must get its supplies, and it is informed with a simplicity which
history can never hope to attain.
We have here reproduced in these records, with a faithfulness that is
amazing, the spirit of those dark days that are no more. Tragedy shakes
hands with what seems to be trivial, and the commonplaces of every-day
life seem to move forward with the gray battalions that went forth to war.
It is a gentle, a faithful and a tender hand that guides the pen--a soul
nerved to sacrifice that tells the tale. For the rest, let the records
speak for themselves.
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.
PREFACE.
By way of preface to “Life in Dixie During the War,” I scarcely know what
to say. I have long felt that it was the duty of the South to bequeath to
posterity the traditions of that period; for if we do it not ourselves
they will be swallowed up in oblivion. Entertaining this opinion, I have
essayed the task of an individual effort, and hope that others may follow
my example.
No woman who has seen what I have seen, and felt what I have felt, would
be apt to write with less asperity; and yet, now that we have come back to
the United States, and mean to stay in it, let the provocation to depart
be what it may, I would not put into practice an iota of the war-time
feeling. In thus expressing myself, I am sure I represent every Christian
in my own beautiful Southland.
There was one for whom these sketches would have had a special interest.
An inspiring motive for writing them was that they would be read by my
nephew, Thomas H. Stokes, of Atlanta, the only child of the brother so
often mentioned. But, ere he had had more than a glimpse of them, he was
called away by an Inscrutable Providence, in his pure and beautiful young
manhood, as we trust to a Land of Peace more in keeping with his noble,
true, and tender heart, than earth with its sin and strife. “Blessed are
the pure in heart; for they shall see God.”
MARY A. H. GAY.
Decatur, Georgia.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
THE TOCSIN OF WAR.
The tocsin of war has resounded from Mason and Dixon’s line to the Gulf of
Mexico, from the snow-crested billows of the Atlantic to the tranquil
waves of the Pacific.
War! War! War! is the battle cry of a people, who, long suffering and
patient, but now, goaded to desperation and thoroughly exasperated, are
determined, at all hazards, to protect the rights for which their
forefathers fought, bled and died; and which their own Thomas Jefferson
embodied in an instrument of writing which, for beauty of diction and
wisdom of thought, will go sounding down the corridors of time, so long as
time itself shall last--unequaled, unparalleled; and which was adopted
without a dissenting voice by the ablest convocation of men ever assembled
in national councils as their declaration of human rights and liberties.
Thus, under auspices favorable to the happy and speedy development of a
new and glorious country, commenced the government of the freest and
happiest people on earth, under the administration of George
Washington--an administration which caught the eye of the world and called
forth its admiration; and which the most censorious never had the temerity
to attack; an administration which secured for the country the alluring
title, “The land of the free and the home of the brave.” And its fame
went abroad in story and in song, and every nation on earth sought its
blessings and advantages, and it grew to be a mighty country.
Coeval with the settlement of this beautiful continent by the white man,
there came, or rather, there was brought, a race of people which needed
the fostering care as well as the strong arm of slavery to kindle the
latent spark of intellectual fire which had smoldered for centuries, in,
as President Cleveland would say, “innocuous desuetude.”
This race of people came not as pioneers in the building up of this great
nation, but as a menial race, sold into bondage by their own kith and kin,
and not to be endowed with elective franchise nor representation in its
councils. It was held in bondage alike in Massachusetts and in South
Carolina. Under the auspices of slavery, it became a powerful factor in
the building up of the staple industries of the country--the Southern
portion of it directly, the Northern portion indirectly, and it received
in return more than any other people in bondage has ever received--as a
usual thing, good wholesome food, comfortable homes and raiment, and
tender treatment in sickness. When they failed to receive these benefits,
their masters were improvident and careless alike of the comfort of their
own wives and children, and they, too, showed hard usage and neglect. This
is not said by way of apology for any treatment received at the hands of
Southern slaveholders by this vassal race. I repeat that no people held in
bondage ever received so many benefits.
Slavery, as all other institutions, had its evils, and those evils were
far greater to the slaveholder than to the slaves. Climatic and other
considerations rendered the system of slavery unprofitable in the Northern
States of this great and growing republic, and the men at the helm of
their respective governments agitated the subject of emancipation.
Having given themselves time to bring the greater number of their slaves
South and sell them, they nominally freed the others by legislative
enactment; and by this great and magnanimous action, there were so few
left that to this day, as attested by Northern tourists, a “darkey,” or a
“colored person,” is an object of curiosity and great interest.
The country, North and South, was too prosperous. The agitators could
stand it no longer. Discord and strife took the place of harmony and peace
in the halls of congress, and in the senate chamber of the United States.
Men who could in no other way acquire prominence, became conspicuous as
champions of an “oppressed and down trodden race,” and were swift to
slander the white people of the South. Our slaves were taught that murder,
rapine, arson, and every species of wickedness known in the catalogue of
crime which, in any way, could weaken, yea, destroy the South, was service
most acceptable.
The country was in the clutches of an organized mob, determined to
precipitate it into the jaws of dissolution. By way of confirming this
statement the following resolutions are reproduced.
These resolutions were adopted by a large and representative body of men
at Worcester, Massachusetts, soon after Fremont’s defeat in 1856, and
long before Governor Gist of South Carolina, and other Southern leaders,
began to take measures for a peaceable separation, rather than to be
forcibly expelled:
“_Resolved_, That the meeting of a state disunion convention, attended by
men of various parties and affinities, gives occasion for a new statement
of principles and a new platform of action.
“_Resolved_, That the conflict between this principle of liberty and this
fact of slavery has been the whole history of the nation for fifty years,
while the only result of this conflict has thus far been to strengthen
both parties, and prepare the way of a yet more desperate struggle.
“_Resolved_, That in this emergency we can expect little or nothing from
the South itself, because it, too, is sinking deeper into barbarism every
year. Nor from a supreme court which is always ready to invent new
securities for slaveholders. Nor from a president elected almost solely by
Southern votes. Nor from a senate which is permanently controlled by the
slave power. Nor from a house of representatives which, in spite of our
agitation, will be more proslavery than the present one, though the
present one has at length granted all which slavery asked. Nor from
political action as now conducted. For the Republican leaders and press
freely admitted, in public and private, that the election of Fremont was,
politically speaking, the last hope of freedom, and even could the North
cast a united vote in 1860, the South has before it four years of
annexation previous to that time.
“_Resolved_, That the fundamental difference between mere political
agitation and the action we propose is this, it requires the acquiescence
of the slave power, and the other only its opposite.
“_Resolved_, That the necessity for disunion is written in the whole
existing character and condition of the two sections of the country--in
social organizations, education, habits and laws--in the dangers of our
white citizens of Kansas and of our colored ones in Boston, in the wounds
of Charles Sumner and the laurels of his assailant--and no government on
earth was ever strong enough to hold together such opposing forces.
“_Resolved_, That this movement does not seek merely disunion, but the
more perfect union of the free States by the expulsion of the slave States
from the confederation in which they have ever been an element of discord,
danger and disgrace.
“_Resolved_, That it is not probable that the ultimate severance of the
union will be an action of deliberation or discussion, but that a long
period of deliberation and discussion must precede it, and this we meet to
begin.
“_Resolved_, That henceforward, instead of regarding it as an objection to
any system of policy that will lead to the separation of the States, we
will proclaim that to be the highest of all recommendations and the
grateful proof of statesmanship; and we will support politically and
otherwise, such men and measures as appear to tend most to this result.
“_Resolved_, That by the repeated confession of Northern and Southern
statesmen, the existence of the union is the chief guarantee of slavery,
and that the despots of the whole world and the slaves of the whole world
have everything to hope from its destruction and the rise of a free
Northern republic.
“_Resolved_, That the sooner the separation takes place the more peaceable
it will be; but that peace or war is a mere secondary consideration in
view of our present perils. Slavery must be conquered; peaceably if we
can, forcibly if we must.”
To keep before the people of the United States, North and South, the
hostility of the then controling spirit of the North towards the South,
the above resolutions cannot be repeated too often. Nor were they an
isolated example of party fanaticism. The stock and staple of the entire
republican press was slander of the Southern people; and like noxious
weeds it well nigh rooted out all that was elevating to man, and ennobling
to woman. The pulpit became a rostrum from which bitter invective of the
South flowed in Niagaran torrents; and the beautiful fields of Poesy were
made to yield an abundant crop of briar and bramble and deadly Upas.
The burden of every song, of every prayer, of every sermon, was the “poor
down-trodden slave” of the South. What wonder that seed thus constantly
and malignantly sown sprang up and bore a crop of discontent which nothing
short of “separation” from the enemy could appease. We, too, felt that
under the existing circumstances peace or war was a mere secondary
consideration in view of our perils in the union, and took measures to
withdraw from a sectional union of States that had ceased to respect State
sovereignty outside of its own borders.
The insults and taunts and the encroachments of fifty years had welded the
people of the South into a compact party organization, animated for all
substantial purposes by one sentiment and one glorious principle of
patriotism, and never was there a movement in the annals of nations that
had a more unanimous support. And when the tocsin of war resounded from
one end of the country to the other, and reverberated over hills and
through valleys, the sons and sires in the beautiful Sunny South, from the
high born and cultured gentleman in whose veins flowed the blue blood of
the cavalier, to the humblest tiller of the soil and the shepherd on the
mountain sides, buckled on the paraphernalia of warfare and reported for
duty. To arms! To arms! was the patriotic appeal of a people who had no
other redress; and I repeat with emphasis that never a people responded
with more chivalrous alacrity or more earnestness of purpose.
I was too well versed in the politics of the country, too familiar with
the underground workings of the enemy, to hesitate. I, too, enlisted in
the struggle, and in the glorious efforts to establish “home rule and
domestic felicity,” not literally in the ranks of the soldier, but in the
great army of women who were willing to toil and to suffer, and to die, if
need be, for the cause of the South.
I had but one brother, a darling young half brother, Thomas J. Stokes, who
had gone to Texas to practice his chosen profession. With all the
intensity of my ardent nature I loved this brother, and would have died
that he might live; and yet with all the perils involved, it was with a
thrill of pride that I read his long letter breathing, pulsing, with the
patriotism illustrated by our ancestry in the revolutionary struggle for
American Independence. And now this noble brother and myself, though
widely separated, enlisted in aid of the same great cause; the perpetuity
of constitutional rights. He to serve on the battle-field, and I to care
for the sick and wounded soldiers, or to labor in any capacity that would
give greatest encouragement to our cause.
Life in Dixie During the War.
CHAPTER I.
THE MAGNOLIA CADETS.
Notwithstanding the restful signification of “Alabama,” the State bearing
that name had passed the ordinance of secession, and mingled her voice
with those of other States which had previously taken steps in that
direction.
Then followed a call for a convention, having in view the election of a
President of a new Republic to take its place among the nations of the
earth, and to be known throughout the world as the Southern Confederacy.
As an intensely interested spectator I was at that convention; and will
remember, to my dying day, that grand spectacle. Yea, that was a grand and
solemn occasion--that of issuing a mandate “Let there be another nation,
and to all intents and purposes there was another nation.” In the course
of human events it requires centuries to evolve such moral courage and
sublimity of thought and action; and the proceedings of that day will
stand out in bold relief as the acme of patriotic greatness.
Ah! that scene at the capitol of the State of Alabama, when Jefferson
Davis, the chosen leader of the Southern people, took the oath of office
and pledged undying fidelity to the best interests of his own sunny land.
On that momentous occasion not a word was uttered denunciatory of the
States we were seeking to leave in their fancied superiority, and the
great concourse of people there assembled was too familiar with the
history of the times to require recapitulation of the causes of the
alienation which led by rapid ascent to the summit of discontent, and
determination to no longer submit to the domination of an enemy.
That scene being enacted as a preliminary, a call was made for Alabama’s
quota of volunteers to defend the principles enunciated and the interests
involved.
The Magnolia Cadets, under the leadership of Captain N. H. R. Dawson, of
Selma, were among the first to respond. I accompanied my cousins of
Alabama to see this company of noble, handsome young men mustered into the
military service of their country. It was a beautiful sight! Wealthy,
cultured young gentlemen voluntarily turning their backs upon the luxuries
and endearments of affluent homes, and accepting in lieu the privations
and hardships of warfare; thereby illustrating to the world that the
conflict of arms consequent upon the secession was not to be “a rich man’s
war and a poor man’s fight.”
I saw them as they stood in line to receive the elegant silken banner,
bearing the stars and bars of a new nation, made and presented to them by
Miss Ella Todd and her sister, Mrs. Dr. White, of Lexington, Kentucky, who
were introduced to the audience by Captain Dawson as the sisters of Mrs.
Abraham Lincoln, the wife of the president of the United States.
I was thus made aware that Mrs. Lincoln and her illustrious husband were
Southerners. I have since been in the small, mud-chinked log cabin in
Elizabethtown, Kentucky, in which he was born, and in which his infancy
and little boyhood were domiciled. Mrs. White had married an Alabamian,
and as his wife became a citizen of his State. Her sister, Miss Todd, was
visiting her at the enactment of the scene described, and under like
circumstances, also became a citizen of Alabama. She married the valiant
gentleman who introduced her to the public on that memorable occasion.
I have sought and obtained from Mrs. Mary Dawson Jordan, of Chattanooga,
Tennessee, a daughter of Captain Jordan, a complete record of the names of
the officers and members of this patriotic company of Alabama’s noble
sons--native and adopted--which I subjoin as an item of history that will
be read with interest by all who revere the memory of the Lost Cause and
its noble defenders.
_Muster Roll of the “Magnolia Cadets.”_
N. H. R. DAWSON, Captain.
(Enrolled for active service at Selma, Ala., on the 26th day of April,
1861. Mustered into service on the 7th day of May, 1861, at Lynchburg,
Va.)
Commanded by Col. Ben Alston of the Fourth Alabama Regiment of Volunteers.
1. N. H. R. Dawson, Captain.
1. Shortbridge, Jr., Geo. D., 1st Lieutenant.
2. McCraw, S. Newton, 2nd Lieutenant.
3. Wilson, John R. 3rd Lieutenant.
1. Waddell, Ed. R., 1st Sergeant.
2. Price, Alfred C., 2nd Sergeant.
3. Daniel, Lucian A., 3rd Sergeant.
4. Goldsby, Boykin, 4th Sergeant.
1. Bell, Bush W., 1st Corporal.
2. Garrett, Robert E., 2nd Corporal.
3. Brown, James G., 3rd Corporal.
4. Cohen, Lewis, 4th Corporal.
1. Melton, George F., Musician.
2. Marshall, Jacob, Musician.
PRIVATES.
1. Adkins, Agrippa
2. Adams, William S.
3. Avery, William C.
4. Byrd, William G.
5. Beattie, Thomas K.
6. Briggs, Charles H.
7. Bohannon, Robert B.
8. Baker, Eli W.
9. Bradley, Hugh C.
10. Cook, Thomas M.
11. Cook, James W.
12. Cook, Benson.
13. Caughtry, Joseph R.
14. Cole, George W.
15. Cleveland, George W.
16. Clevaland, Pulaski.
17. Cunningham, Frank M.
18. Coursey, William W.
19. Daniel, John R.
20. Densler, John E.
21. Donegay, James G.
22. Friday, Hilliard J.
23. Friday, James L.
24. Friday, John C.
25. Ford, Joseph H.
26. Grice, Henry F.
27. Haden, James G.
28. Harrill, Thornton R.
29. Hannon, Wm. H., Sr.
30. Hannon, Wm. H., Jr.
31. Hooks, William A.
32. Hodge, William L.
33. Jones, William.
34. Jordan, James M.
35. Jackson, Felix W.
36. King, William R.
37. Kennedy, Arch.
38. Kennedy, George D.
39. Lamson, Frank R.
40. Lane, William B.
41. Lowry, Uriah.
42. Lowry, William A.
43. Littleton, Thomas B.
44. Luske, John M.
45. Lamar, John H.
46. Mather, Thomas S.
47. Martin, James B.
48. May, Syd M.
49. May, William V.
50. Melton, Thomas J.
51. Miller, Stephen J.
52. Mimms, George A.
53. Moody, William R.
54. Mosely, Andrew B.
55. McNeal, George S.
56. McKerning, John W.
57. Overton, John B.
58. Overton, Thomas W.
59. O’Neal, William.
60. Paisley, Hugh S.
61. Pryor, John W.
62. Pryor, Robert O.
63. Peeples, Frank W.
64. Raiford, William C.
65. Reinhardt, George L.
66. Robbins, John L.
67. Rucker, Lindsay.
68. Rucker, Henry.
69. Shiner, David H.
70. Stokes, William C.
71. Stone, John W.
72. Stewett, Mayor D.
73. Turner, Daniel M.
74. Thomas, Lewis.
75. Tarver, Ben J.
76. Taylor, William E.
77. Terry, Thomas B.
78. Thompson, John S.
79. Thompson, William E.
80. Ursory, Edward G.
81. Vaughn, Turner P.
82. Wrenn, Theodore J.
83. Whallon, Daniel.
Copied from the original Muster Roll of the Magnolia Cadets, owned by
Henry R. Dawson, son of N. H. R. Dawson.
CHAPTER II.
THE WAR RECORD OF DEKALB COUNTY.
DeKalb county, Georgia, of which Decatur is the county site, was among the
first to enroll troops for Confederate service. The first volunteers from
Decatur were James L. George, Hardy Randall, L. J. Winn and Beattie
Wilson, who went with the Atlanta Greys the last of May, 1861.
The first company from DeKalb county was that of Captain John W. Fowler.
It was called the DeKalb Light Infantry, and was mustered into service in
Atlanta, as part of the 7th Georgia Volunteers, and left for Virginia on
the 1st of June, 1861. Those going from DeKalb county in this company
were: First Lieutenant, John J. Powell; Second Lieutenant, John M.
Hawkins; Third Lieutenant, James L. Wilson; First Sergeant, M. L. Brown;
Second Sergeant, D. C. Morgan; Third Sergeant, D. E. Jackson; Fourth
Sergeant, John W. Fowler, jr.; Corporals--H. H. Norman, R. F. Davis, C. W.
L. Powell; Privates--W. W. Bradbury (afterwards captain), E. M.
Chamberlain, W. W. Morgan, W. L. Herron, P. H. Pate, C. E. McCulloch,
James W. McCulloch, L. C. Powell, H. G. Woodall, J. S. Woodall, A. W.
Mashburn, V. A. Wilson, W. J. Mason, J. V. Austin, W. M. Austin, John
Eads, E. A. Davis, Dr. A. S. Mason, John W. Norman, E. L. Morton, Henry
Gentry, W. M. Cochran, J. B. Cochran, James Hunter (promoted captain), W.
W. Brimm, William Carroll, C. W. McAllister, J. O. McAllister, and many
others from the county, making it a full company.
The second company from DeKalb was the Stephens Rifles, captain, L. J.
Glenn. They went into Cobb’s Legion about August, 1861. Dr. Liddell, Frank
Herron, Norman Adams, John McCulloch, John J. McKoy, and some others, went
from Decatur in this company.
The third company was the Murphey Guards, captain, John Y. Flowers. They
came from the upper part of the county, near Doraville. This company was
named in memory of Hon. Charles Murphey, of DeKalb county, a prominent
lawyer and member of Congress, but then recently deceased. The company had
been uniformed by the people of the county, a large share being
contributed by Mr. and Mrs. Milton A. Candler, and Mr. and Mrs. Ezekiel
Mason. Mrs. Candler, whose maiden name was Eliza Murphey, the only child
of Charles Murphey, gave the banner, upon which was inscribed, “The God of
Jacob is with us.”
The Fourth Company was The Bartow Avengers, Captain William Wright, from
the lower part of the county about South River. The Fifth Company, Captain
Rankin, was from Stone Mountain. These three last mentioned companies went
into the 38th Georgia Regiment, in September, 1861, and belonged to the
Virginia Army. The Sixth Company, Captain E. L. Morton’s, entered service
the last of August, 1861, in the 36th Georgia Regiment, and was with the
Western Army under Johnston. The Seventh Company, the Fowler Guards,
Captain Clay, went into the 42nd Georgia Regiment in the early part of
1862, and was also in the Western Army.
There were several companies, mostly composed of DeKalb County men, that
were made up and went from the camp of instruction near Decatur. Moses L.
Brown was Captain of one, and L. D. Belisle of another. Besides the
companies already named, all of which went into the infantry, there were
many soldiers from DeKalb that went into the Cavalry and Artillery service
of the regular army.
In the year 1863, when Georgia was threatened by Rosecrans coming into the
State on its northern border, special troops were raised for its defence.
Major General Howell Cobb commanded the division; General Henry R. Jackson
one of the brigades. In Jackson’s Brigade, in the 10th Georgia Regiment
State Guards (Col. John J. Glenn and Lieutenant-Colonel J. N. Glenn), we
find Company A of Cavalry troops. Of this company Milton A. Candler had
command. These troops served through 1863 and 1864.
In April, 1863, Paul P. Winn, now a Presbyterian minister, then a mere
youth, went into the army in the 45th Georgia Regiment, commanded by Col.
Thomas J. Simmons. Other Decatur boys went into the service from other
sections where the war found them located. Among these were Dr. James J.
Winn, who enlisted at Clayton, Alabama, with the Barker Greys, and was in
the battle of Bull Run. After a year or two he received a surgeon’s
commission, being the youngest surgeon in the army.
John C. Kirkpatrick, just eighteen, went into the service from Augusta
with the Oglethorpe Infantry. With him were his cousin, William Dabney
(now a Presbyterian minister in Virginia), and his friend, Frank Stone.
This was in 1862, and John remained in the service until the close of the
war, having been in severe battles (for he was in Cleburne’s Division),
including that of Jonesboro. In this engagement were other Decatur boys in
other commands. Mr. John B. Swanton, but seventeen years old, was in that
battle, and says that by his side stood, when mortally wounded, Franklin
Williams, the brother of Mr. Hiram J. Williams. Says Mr. Swanton: “He was
so near me I could have touched him with my hand.” Three sons of Mrs.
Martha Morgan, and cousins of DeWitt Morgan, were all in the service,
Henry, Daniel, and Joseph Morgan. Jesse Chewning and Samuel Mann were in
the 64th Georgia.
Josiah J. Willard, the only son of Mr. Levi Willard, while a sprightly,
active youth, was near-sighted. He had a position in the commissary
department at Camp Randolph, near Decatur, and went with it to Macon, July
11th, 1864, and remained there until the place surrendered after the fall
of Richmond. He, also, is mentioned in other sketches.
There were also several companies of old men and boys who went into the
State service when the last call for troops was made by the Confederate
government.
Before the DeKalb soldiers go to meet the fortunes of war, let us recall
some incidents that preceded their departure. On the northern side of the
court-house square there stood a large building, the residence of Mr.
Ezekiel Mason. Here, day after day, a band of devoted women met to make
the uniforms for the DeKalb Light Infantry. These uniforms had been cut by
a tailor, but they were to be made by women’s hands. Among the leading and
directing spirits in this work were Mrs. Jonathan B. Wilson, Mrs. Jane
Morgan, Mrs. Ezekiel Mason, Mrs. Levi Willard, Miss Anna Davis, Mrs. James
McCulloch, and Miss Lou Fowler. The most of this sewing was done by hand.
To the DeKalb Light Infantry, the day before its departure, a beautiful
silken banner was given. The ladies of the village furnished the material.
The address of presentation was made by Miss Mollie G. Brown. In
September, of that same year, my sister was invited to present a banner to
Captain William Wright’s Company. Her modest little address was responded
to in behalf of the company by Rev. Mr. Mashburn, of the Methodist Church.
In March, 1862, there was another banner presented from the piazza of “the
Mason Corner”--this time to the Fowler Guards, by Miss Georgia Hoyle. This
banner was made by the fair hands of Miss Anna E. Davis. By this time the
spirit of independence of the outside world had begun to show itself in
the Southern-made grey jeans of the soldiers, and in the homespun dress of
Miss Hoyle.
This banner, so skillfully made by Miss Anna Davis, had a circle of white
stars upon a field of blue, and the usual bars of red and white--two broad
red bars with a white one between. The banner of this pattern was known as
the “stars and bars,” and was the first kind used by the Confederate
States. In May, 1863, the Confederate Congress adopted a National Flag,
which had a crimson field with white stars in a blue-grounded diagonal
cross, the remainder of the flag being white. But, when falling limp
around the staff, and only the white showing, it could easily be mistaken
for a flag of truce; therefore in March, 1865, the final change was made
by putting a red bar across the end of the flag.
But what of the fate of these gallant young men, going forth so full of
hope and courage, with tender and loving farewells lingering in their
hearts?
Soon, ah! so soon, some of them fell upon the crimson fields of Virginia.
James L. George (“Jimmie,” as his friends lovingly called him) was killed
in the first battle of Manassas. “Billy” Morgan died soon after the
battle, and was buried with military honors in a private cemetery near
Manassas. Two years after, his brother, De Witt Morgan, worn out in the
siege of Vicksburg, was buried on an island in Mobile Bay. At the second
battle of Manassas, James W. McCulloch and James L. Davis were both
killed. Later on W. J. Mason, William Carroll, John M. Eads, H. H. Norman,
Billy Wilson, and Norman Adams, were numbered among the slain. Among the
wounded were Henry Gentry, Mose Brown, John McCulloch, W. W. Brimm, Dave
Chandler, Riley Lawhorn, and Bill Herring.
A volume could easily be written concerning the bravery and the sufferings
of the DeKalb county troops; but I must forbear. Concerning Warren Morton,
of the 36th Georgia Regiment, who went into the service at the age of
fifteen, and suffered so severely, I will refer my readers to a sketch in
the latter part of this book. Of William M. Durham, so young, so gallant,
who enlisted in Company K., 42nd Georgia Regiment, much of interest will
be found in another chapter.
Among the Decatur members of Cobb’s Legion was Mr. John J. McKoy, who went
out in the Stephens Rifles when not more than nineteen years old. He was
in the battle of Yorktown, Seven Pines, and in the Seven Days Fight around
Richmond. Owing to illness, and to business arising from the attainment of
his majority, he came home in 1863, and, hiring a substitute when the
conscript law was passed, went to work at the Passport Office in Atlanta.
In this same year he was married to Miss Laura Williams of Decatur. Having
raised Company A., for the 64th Georgia Regiment, Mr. McKoy was with it
when it was sent to Florida, and was in the battle of Olustee or Ocean
Pond, in February 1864, where General Alfred H. Colquitt won the title of
“The Hero of Olustee.” Mr. McKoy remembers to have seen on that eventful
day, Col. George W. Scott, then of Florida, but now of Decatur. At the
battle of Olustee, Col. Scott was in command of a regiment of Cavalry. The
banner of the regiment is now in possession of his daughter, Mrs. Thomas
Cooper.
The 64th Georgia was then sent to Virginia in General Wright’s brigade. A
few days after “The Mine Explosion,” or undermining of the Confederate
works, an engagement occurred at Deep Bottom. Here, General Girardy, of
Augusta, was killed, and several hundred of the Confederates were
captured, among the number being Mr. McKoy. This was in July, 1864. He was
sent to Fort Delaware, where he remained in prison until the close of the
war. Here he spent a whole winter without a fire, and was subject to all
that Fort Delaware meant. To escape the horrors of that prison, many of
the two thousand officers there confined, took the oath not to fight
against the United States. But Mr. McKoy and thirty-four others remained
in prison, firm and loyal, even after the surrender, believing and hoping,
up to July, 1865, that the war would be carried on west of the Mississippi
river.
The soldiers who went to Virginia knew from their own experience the
scenes of Manassas, Malvern Hill, Fort Harrison, Sharpsburg,
Fredericksburg, Gettysburg and the Wilderness. Yet some of them were left
to be surrendered by Lee at Appomatox Court House. The companies which
were in the Western Army were in the leading battles of that Division, and
were equally brave and abiding in their devotion to the cause.
For many of the foregoing facts concerning the troops from DeKalb, I am
greatly indebted to Mr. Robert F. Davis, who went with DeKalb’s first
company, and who, after braving the perils of the war, came off unscathed.
He still lives near Decatur, and is an elder in the Presbyterian Church.
I greatly regret my inability, even if I had the space, to give the names
of all the soldiers who went from DeKalb, and to tell of their deeds of
bravery and endurance. It has not been intentional that many are wholly
omitted. It has been my privilege to see but one muster-roll of our county
troops--that of Company K, 38th Georgia Regiment, kindly furnished by Mr.
F. L. Hudgins, of Clarkston, a brave soldier who was in command of the
Company when Lee surrendered. This muster-roll shows that out of the 118
names, forty-six were killed (or died), and seventeen were wounded; that
its first Captain, William Wright, resigned, and that three other Captains
by promotion were all killed, _i. e._, Gustin E. Goodwin, George W. Stubbs
and R. H. Fletcher. Indeed, in nearly every instance, promotion in this
Company meant death upon the battle field. And can we wonder that both the
commissioned and the noncommissioned fell, when some of the principal
battles in which they were engaged bore such names as Cold Harbor, Malvern
Hill, Second Manassas, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville,
Winchester, Gettysburg, The Wilderness, Spottsylvania Courthouse,
Mechanicsville, Fisher’s Hill, Cedar Creek, Louise Courthouse and High
Bridge?
In memory of the dead, for the sake of the living and for the descendants
of all mentioned therein, I copy the muster-roll of this company:
_Company K., 38th Georgia Regiment_:
Captain William Wright--resigned July, 1862.
1st Lieutenant Julius J. Gober--Died July 26th, 1862.
2nd Lieutenant Gustin E. Goodwin--Promoted captain; killed August 28th,
1862.
3rd Lieutenant George W. Stubbs--Promoted captain; killed July 24th,
1864.
1st Sergeant John S. Johnston--Killed June 27th, 1862.
2nd Sergeant W. R. Henry--Promoted to 1st Lieutenant; lost a leg December
13th, 1862.
3rd Sergeant J. A. Maddox--Killed at Wilderness, May 5th, 1864.
4th Sergeant F. L. Hudgins--Promoted 1st Sergeant; wounded at Malvern
Hill; shot through the body at Gettysburg.
5th Sergeant E. H. C. Morris--Promoted 3rd Lieutenant; killed at Second
Manassas, August, 1862.
1st Corporal F. M. Gassaway--Killed at Second Manassas, August, 1862.
2nd Corporal J. M. Walker--Died in camp.
3rd Corporal W. A. Ward--Died in camp.
4th Corporal James L. Anderson--Wounded at Manassas and Spottsylvania
court house.
John H. Akers--Killed at Second Manassas, 1862.
A. W. Allman--Killed at Cedar Creek, October 19th, 1864.
John Adams--Died in camp.
Enos Adams--
Isaac W. Awtry--
W. A. Awtry--
H. V. Bayne--Disabled by gunshot wound. Still living.
Allen Brown--
Lewis Brown--
Killis Brown--
William M. Brooks--
H. M. Burdett--
J. S. Burdett--
John S. Boyd--
James E. Ball--Killed at Gettysburg, July, 1863.
W. H. Brisendine--
L. R. Bailey--Transferred to Cobb’s Legion.
John E. J. Collier--
James Collier--Died at Charlottesville, Va., 1862.
Z. J. Cowan--
J. J. Cowan--
G. G. Cook--
James E. Chandler--Killed at Sharpsburg, Md., September 17th, 1862.
W. B. Chandler--Died in camp, May 31st, 1863.
John W. Chandler--Killed at Second Manassas, August, 1862.
W. A. Childress--A physician in Atlanta.
J. H. Childers--
J. M. Dowis--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
W. H. Ellis--
John Eunis--
R. H. Fletcher--Promoted Captain; killed in 1865.
A. M. Gentry--Died at Savannah in 1862.
W. F. Goodwin--Promoted 3rd Lieutenant; killed at Gettysburg in 1863.
C. H. Goodwin--Killed at Coal Harbor.
Joseph Grogan--
J. H. Grogan--
J. D. Grogan--Killed at Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17th, 1862.
Gideon Grogan--Killed at Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17th, 1862.
James H. Gasaway--Disabled by gunshot.
William Gasaway--Disabled by gunshot.
John Gasaway--Discharged.
W. L. Goss--
F. L. Guess--Transferred to the 9th Georgia Artillery Battalion.
H. L. Head--
J. L. Henry--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
W. B. Heldebrand--Died recently.
H. H. Hornbuckle--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
Joshua Hammond--Killed at Sharpsburg, September 17th, 1862.
R. F. Jones--Killed at Coal Harbor.
J. W. Jones--Disabled by gunshot.
C. S. Jones--Killed in Richmond.
R. D. F. Jones--Disabled by gunshot.
J. M. Jones--
J. H. Jones--Disabled by gunshot.
James Jones--
John F. Kelley--
John H. Kelley--
James Kelley--
W. J. Little--Disabled by gunshot.
George Lee--Died in camp.
A. J. Lee--Discharged.
Wiley Manghon--
J. R. Mitchell--Killed December 13th, 1862, at Fredericksburg.
W. G. Mitchell--Disabled by gunshot.
E. J. Mitchell--
W. R. Maguire--Disabled by gunshot.
W. A. Morgan--
B. S. McClain--Died in camp.
John W. Nash--Killed December 13th, 1862, at Fredericksburg.
David N. Fair--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
W. B. Owen--
J. J. Pruett--Discharged.
John W. Phillips--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
John B. Thompson--
Will Thompson--
W. M. Richardson--Disabled at Second Manassas.
J. S. Richardson--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
D. D. Richardson--Died at Hanover Junction, 1862.
A. W. Stowers--
W. A. Smith--
J. M. Summey--Shot through at Coal Harbor.
S. J. Summey--Killed at Winchester, Va., June 13th, 1863.
James Toney--Musician.
C. W. Toney--Musician.
M. J. Tweedle--Wounded at Winchester, Va., September 19th, 1864.
S. J. Thomas--
R. L. Vaughn--Died at Savannah, Ga.
J. S. Vaughn--Wounded eight times at Coal Harbor.
W. T. Vaughn--Had both hands blown off.
J. C. Wiggins--Promoted Second Lieutenant; killed in June, 1864.
J. M. Wiggins--
R. W. Wiggins--Killed at Petersburg, Va., March 27th, 1865.
E. W. Wiggins--Killed at Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17th, 1862.
G. W. Wiggins--
M. O. Wiggins--Disabled at Cedar Creek, October 19th, 1864.
G. W. Wade--Musician.
E. D. Wade--
F. M. Wade--
B. L. Wilson--Killed at Marie’s Heights, May 4th, 1863.
W. A. Wright--
W. R. Wood--
Amos Wheeler--Killed at Spottsylvania, May 12th, 1864.
J. H. Wilson--Killed at Gettysburg, July 1st, 1863.
Jordan Wilson--Killed at Coal Harbor, June 27th, 1862.
CHAPTER III.
LABORS OF LOVE.
Musical--Decatur.
To a woman who lives and moves and has her being in the past, an
invocation to time to “turn backward in its flight,” would seem
superfluous. The scenes of other years being ever present, it would also
seem that time, as a loving father, would linger fondly around her with
panaceas for decay, mental and physical; that her heart would never grow
old, and her person never lose the attractions of youth; but, in the
economy of Him who doeth all things well, such is not the decree regarding
aught that is mortal. And when the ravages incident to one’s career have
destroyed personal charm, and divested the mind of sparkling gem, the soul
yearns for the protection of childhood and the companionship of youth.
Scenes of the past, though dyed with “the blood of martyrs,” are ever
passing in kaleidoscopic beauty before the mind’s eye, and tones too sweet
for mortal ear are ever thrilling the heart with strange, sweet, expectant
pleasure. This train of reflection, only far more elaborate, seizes for
its guiding star, on this occasion, a scene which at the time of its
enactment was indelibly impressed upon my mind, and left living, glowing
tints, illuming my pathway through subsequent life; a scene in which
lovely girlhood, arrayed in pure white robes, lent a helping hand in the
important work of supplying our soldiers with comforts, all the more
appreciated because of the source from which emanating. With closed eyes,
I see it now and listen to its enchanting melody. To render it more
realistic than could be done by any description of mine, I subjoin a copy
of the “Programme,” the original of which I have preserved:
GRAND MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT!
RELIEF FUND
FOR OUR SOLDIERS,
THURSDAY, MAY 15, 1862,
AT THE COURTHOUSE.
By the ladies of Decatur, Georgia, assisted by William H. Barnes, Colonel
Thomas F. Lowe, Professor Hanlon, W. A. Haynes, R. O. Haynes, Dr.
Geutebruck and Dr. Warmouth, of Atlanta.
PROGRAMME.
Part I.
1. Opening Chorus--Company.
2. Piano Duet--“March from Norma”--Miss Georgia Hoyle and Miss Missouri
Stokes.
3. Solo--“Roy Neil”--Mrs. Robert Alston.
4. Quartette--Atlanta Amateurs.
5. “Tell Me, Ye Winged Winds”--Company.
6. “Our Way Across the Sea”--Miss G. Hoyle and Professor Hanlon.
7. March--Piano Duet--Miss Laura Williams and Miss Fredonia Hoyle.
8. Solo--Professor Hanlon.
9. Comic Song--W. H. Barnes.
10. Violin Solo--Colonel Thomas F. Lowe.
11. Solo--Dr. Warmouth.
12. “When Night Comes O’er the Plain”--Miss M. Stokes and Professor
Hanlon.
13. “The Mother’s Farewell”--Mrs. Maggie Benedict.
Part II.
1. Chorus--“Away to the Prairie”--Company.
2. Piano Solo--Miss G. Hoyle.
3. Song--Atlanta Amateurs.
4. Coquette Polka--Misses Hoyle and Stokes.
5. Chorus--“Let us Live with a Hope”--Company.
6. “Mountain Bugle”--Miss M. Stokes and Company.
7. “Mazurka des Traineaux”--Piano Duet--Misses Hoyle and Stokes.
8. Shiloh Retreat--Violin--Colonel Thomas F. Lowe.
Concluding with the Battle Song: “Cheer, Boys, Cheer”--W. H. Barnes.
Tickets, 50c. Children and Servants, half price.
Doors open 7:30 o’clock. Commence at 8:15 o’clock.
Atlanta Intelligencer Power Print.
Musical--Atlanta.
The citizens of Decatur were always invited to entertainments, social,
literary, and musical, in Atlanta, that had in view the interest, pleasure
or comfort of our soldiers; therefore the invitation accompanying the
following programme received ready response:
TWELFTH MUSICAL SOIREE
--of the--
ATLANTA AMATEURS,
Monday evening, June 24, 1861,
For the Benefit of
ATLANTA VOLUNTEERS,
Captain Woddail,
and the
CONFEDERATE CONTINENTALS,
Captain Seago,
Who Are Going to Defend Our Land.
Let all attend and pay a parting tribute to our brave
soldiers.
PROGRAMME.
Part I.
1. We Come Again--(Original)--Company.
2. Dreams--(A Reverie)--Miss J. E. Whitney.
3. Violin Solo--(Hash)--Colonel Thomas F. Lowe.
4. “Not for Gold or Precious Stones”--Miss R. J. Hale.
5. Yankee Doodle--According to W. A. Haynes.
6. Dixie Variations--Mrs. W. T. Farrar.
7. “Two Merry Alpine Maids”--Misses M. F. and J. E. Whitney.
8. “When I Saw Sweet Nellie Home”--Misses Sasseen and Judson.
9. “Root Hog or Die”--W. H. Barnes.
Instrumental Trio, “La Fille du Regiment”--Messrs. Schoen and Heindl.
Vermicelli, (Variations)--W. H. Barnes and Openheimer.
Part II.
1. “Our Southern Land”--C. P. Haynes and Company.
2. “Through Meadows Green”--Miss M. F. Whitney.[1]
3. Solo--Thomas D. Wright.
4. “Home, Sweet Home”--Miss R. J. Hale.
5. Violin Exemplification--Col. Thomas F. Lowe.
6. “Happy Days of Yore”--Mrs. Hibler.
7. Quartette--(original)--Misses Whitney, Messrs. Barnes and Haynes.
8. “Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep”--Prof. Hanlon. Encore--Ballad.
9. “I Come, I Come”--Misses Sasseen, Westmoreland and Sims.
The whole to conclude with the grand original.
TABLEAU,
(In Two Parts).
The Women and Children of Dixie Rejoicing Over the Success of the
Confederate Banner.
Scene 1. The Children of Dixie.
Scene 2. The Women--The Soldiers--Our Flag--Brilliant Illumination.
Doors open at half past 7 o’clock. Curtain will rise at half past 8
o’clock.
Tickets, Fifty Cents. Ushers will be on hand to seat audience.
W. H. BARNES, Manager.
CHAPTER IV.
LABORS OF LOVE.
Knitting and Sewing, and Writing Letters to “Our Soldiers.”
A patriotic co-operation between the citizens of Decatur and Atlanta soon
sprang up, and in that, as in all things else, a social and friendly
interchange of thought and feeling and deed existed; and we were never so
pleased as when aiding each other in the preparation of clothing and
edibles for “our soldiers,” or in some way contributing to their comfort.
Many of us who had never learned to sew became expert handlers of the
needle, and vied with each other in producing well-made garments; and I
became a veritable knitting machine. Besides the discharge of many duties
incident to the times and tending to useful results, I knitted a sock a
day, long and large, and not coarse, many days in succession. At the
midnight hour the weird click of knitting needles chasing each other round
and round in the formation of these useful garments for the nether limbs
of “our boys,” was no unusual sound; and tears and orisons blended with
woof and warp and melancholy sighs. For at that dark hour, when other
sounds were shut out, we dared to listen with bated breath to “the still,
small voice” that whispered in no unmistakable language suggestions which
would have been rebuked in the glare of the noonday sun.
No mother nor sister nor wife nor aunt of a Confederate soldier, need be
told what were the depressing suggestions of that “still, small voice” on
divers occasions.
When the knitting of a dozen pairs of socks was completed, they were
washed, ironed and neatly folded by one of our faithful negro women, and I
then resumed the work of preparing them for their destination. Each pair
formed a distinct package. Usually a pretty necktie, a pair of gloves, a
handkerchief and letter, deposited in one of the socks, enlarged the
package. When all was ready, a card bearing the name of the giver, and a
request to “inquire within,” was tacked on to each package. And then these
twelve packages were formed into a bundle, and addressed to an officer in
command of some company chosen to be the recipient of the contents.
I will give a glimpse of the interior of my letters to our boys. These
letters were written for their spiritual edification, their mental
improvement and their amusement.
“Never saw I the righteous forsaken.”
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
P. S.--“Apples are good but peaches are better;
If you love me, you will write me a letter.”--M.
“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.”
“If in the early morn of life,
You give yourself to God,
He’ll stand by you ’mid earthly strife,
And spare the chast’ning rod.”--
P. S.--“Roses are red and violets blue,
Sugar is sweet and so are you.”--M.
“Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
“May every joy that earth can give
Around thee brightly shine;
Remote from sorrow may you live,
And all of heaven be thine.”--
P. S.--Remember me when this you see,
Though many miles apart we be.--M
“Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of
the law.”
“This above all--to thine own self be true,
And it must follow as night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any one.”
P. S.--“Sure as the vine twines round the stump,
You are my darling sugar lump.”--M.
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us, therefore, cast off
the works of darkness and let us put on the armour of light.”
“As for my life, it is but short,
When I shall be no more;
To part with life I am content,
As any heretofore.
Therefore, good people, all take heed,
This warning take by me--
According to the lives you lead,
Rewarded you shall be.”
P. S.--“My pen is bad, my ink is pale,
My love for you shall never fail.”--M.
“Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of
God.”
“The harp that once through Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara’s wall,
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory’s thrill is o’er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus Freedom, now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks
To show that still she lives.”--
P. S.--“My love for you will ever flow,
Like water down a cotton row.”--M
“The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world and they that
dwell therein.
“For He hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods.
“Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in his
holy place?
“He that hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his
soul unto vanity nor sworn deceitfully.”
“Know thyself, presume not God to scan.
The proper study of mankind is man.”
P. S.--“Round as the ring that has no end,
Is my love for you, my own sweet friend.”--M.
“God is love.”
“Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that there array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?”
P. S.--“If you love me as I love you,
No knife can cut our love in two.”--M.
“But this I say, He that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and
he which soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully. Every man
according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give, not grudgingly,
or of necessity; for God loveth a cheerful giver.”
“Before Jehovah’s awful throne
Ye nations bow with sacred joy;
Know that the Lord is God alone;
He can create and He destroy.”
P. S.--“Above, below, in ocean, earth and skies,
Nothing’s so pretty as your blue eyes.”--M.
“I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on Me should
not abide in darkness.”
“And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”
P. S.--“Remember me! Remember me!
When this you see--Remember me!”--M.
“The Lord shall command the blessing upon thee in the storehouses, and in
all that thou settest thine hand unto.”
“Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of Time.”
P. S.--“Remember well and bear in mind,
A pretty girl’s not hard to find;
But when you find one nice and Gay
Hold on to her both night and day.”--M.
“He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and
forsaketh them shall have mercy.”
“I’d give my life to know thy art,
Sweet, simple, and divine;
I’d give this world to melt one heart,
As thou hast melted mine.”--Mary.
P. S.--“As the earth trots round the sun,
My love for you will ever run.”--M.
CHAPTER V.
THE THIRD MARYLAND ARTILLERY.
Some Old Songs.
At some time in 1863, it was my privilege to meet a gallant band of men
whose faith in the justice of our cause was so strong that they were
constrained to turn their faces Southward and imperil their lives in its
defence. These men represented the highest type of manhood in Maryland.
Sickness entered their camp, and the good ladies of Decatur insisted upon
providing the comforts of home for the sick and wounded. Those to whom it
was my privilege to minister belonged to the Third Maryland Artillery,
under command of Captain John B. Rowan.[2]
Among them was one whose appreciation of kindness shown him ripened into
an undying friendship, Captain W. L. Ritter, a devoted Christian
gentleman, and now an elder in Doctor LeFevre’s Church, Baltimore.
His fondness for that beautiful Southern song, by James R. Randall,
entitled “Maryland, My Maryland!” was truly pathetic.
I subjoin the words to stir up the souls of our people by way of
remembrance.
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
The despot’s heel is on thy shore,
Maryland, My Maryland!
His touch is on thy temple door,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Avenge the patriotic gore,
That flowed the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle-queen of yore,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Hark to a wand’ring son’s appeal,
Maryland, My Maryland!
My mother state, to thee I kneel,
Maryland, My Maryland!
For life and death, for woe and weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Thou wilt not cower in the dust,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Thy beaming sword shall never rust,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Remember Carroll’s sacred trust,
Remember Howard’s warlike thrust,
And all thy slumberers with the just,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Come, ’tis the red dawn of the day,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Come with thy panoplied array,
Maryland, My Maryland.
With Ringold’s spirit for the fray,
With Watson’s blood at Monterey,
With fearless Lowe and dashing May;
Maryland, My Maryland.
Dear Mother! burst thy tyrant’s chain,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Virginia should not call in vain,
Maryland, My Maryland.
She meets her sisters on the plain,
“Sic Semper,” ’tis the proud refrain
That baffles minions back again,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Come! for thy shield is bright and strong,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Come to thy own heroic throng,
That stalks with liberty along,
And give a new Key to thy song,
Maryland, My Maryland.
I see the blush upon thy cheek,
Maryland, My Maryland!
But thou wast ever bravely meek,
Maryland, My Maryland.
But, lo! there surges forth a shriek,
From hill to hill, from creek to creek,
Potomac calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Better the fire upon thee roll,
Better the shot, the blade, the bowl,
Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland, My Maryland.
I hear the distant thunder hum,
Maryland, My Maryland!
The Old Line bugle, fife and drum,
Maryland, My Maryland.
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb--
Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum;
She breathes! She burns! She’ll come, she’ll come!
Maryland, My Maryland.
An additional verse as sung by Mrs. Jessie Clark, of Crisp’s Co., Friday
night, Sept. 12th, 1862.
Hark! tis the cannon’s deaf’ning roar,
Maryland, My Maryland!
Old Stonewall’s on thy hallow’d shore,
Maryland, My Maryland.
Methinks I hear the loud huzza
Ring through the streets of Baltimore--
Slaves no longer--free once more
Maryland, My Maryland.
There were other songs sung in those days. Some of the most popular were
“Bonnie Blue Flag,” “Dixie,” “Bob Roebuck is my Soldier Boy,” “Who will
Care for Mother Now?” “Her Bright Smile Haunts me Still,” “Let me Kiss Him
for his Mother,” “All Quiet Along the Potomac To-Night,” “Rock me to
Sleep, Mother,” “When I Saw Sweet Nellie Home,” “Just Before the Battle,
Mother.” In a collection of old music, now never played, there lie before
me copies of these songs. They were published in various Southern cities
on paper not firm and smooth, but rather thin and coarse, but quite
presentable. What memories these songs awake! Where, oh where, are those
who sang them over thirty years ago! Who of the singers are now living?
How many have gone to the Eternal Shore?
CHAPTER VI.
A DARING AND UNIQUE CHASE.
The Capture and Re-capture of the Railroad Engine, “The General.”
In the early spring of 1862, there occurred an episode of the war which,
up to that date, was the most exciting that had happened in our immediate
section. The story has often been told; but instead of relying upon my
memory, I will condense from the written statement of Mr. Anthony Murphy,
of Atlanta, Georgia, who was one of the principal actors in the chase.
Mr. Murphy begins his narrative by saying: “On Saturday morning, April
12th, 1862, about 4 o’clock, I went aboard a passenger train that started
then for Chattanooga, Tennessee. My business that day was to examine an
engine that furnished power to cut wood and pump water for the locomotives
at Allatoona, a station forty miles from Atlanta. As foreman of machine
and motive power, it became my duty to go that morning. This train was in
charge of Engineer Jeff Cain, and Conductor W. A. Fuller. It was known as
a freight and passenger train. The train arrived in Marietta, twenty miles
from Atlanta, shortly after daylight. I stepped from the coach and noticed
a number of men getting on the car forward of the one I rode in. They were
dressed like citizens from the country, and I supposed they were
volunteers for the army, going to Big Shanty, now known as Kennesaw, a
station about eighteen miles from Marietta, where troops were organized
and forwarded to the Confederate army in Virginia and other points. At
this station the train stopped for breakfast, and, as the engineer,
conductor, myself and other passengers went to get our meals, no one was
left in charge of the locomotive. I had about finished, when I heard a
noise as if steam were escaping. Looking through a window I saw the cars
move, saw the engineer and fireman at the table, and said to them: ‘Some
one is moving your engine.’ By this time I was at the front door, and saw
that the train was divided and passing out of sight.”
Mr. Murphy, the conductor, and the engineer then held a brief
consultation. He asked about the men who got on at Marietta (who
afterwards proved to be a Federal raiding party, Andrews and his men), and
remarked: “They were the men who took the engine and three cars.” At the
time he thought they were Confederate deserters, who would run the engine
as far as it would have steam to run, and then abandon it. Mr. Murphy and
his two comrades concluded that it was their duty to proceed after them. A
Mr. Kendrick, connected with the railroad, coming up, they requested him
to go on horseback to Marietta, the nearest telegraph station, and
communicate with the superintendent at Atlanta, while they “put out on
foot after a locomotive under steam.” Knowing they would reach a squad of
track-hands somewhere on the line, they had some hope, and they did, in a
few miles, meet a car and hands near Moon’s Station, about two miles from
Big Shanty. They pressed the car, and two hands to propel it, which
propelling was done by poles pressed against the ties or ground, and not
by a crank. Soon they reached a pile of cross-ties on the track, and found
the telegraph wire cut. Clearing off the ties, they pressed on until they
reached Acworth Station, six miles from Big Shanty. There they learned
that the train they were pursuing had stopped some distance from the
depot, and having been carefully examined by its engineer, had moved off
at a rapid rate. This satisfied the pursuers that the capturers of the
engine “meant something more than deserters would attempt;” and then they
“thought of enemies from the Federal army.” Says the narrator: “We moved
on to Allatoona. At this place we received two old guns, one for Fuller,
and one for the writer. I really did not know how long they had been
loaded, nor do I yet, for we never fired them. These were the only arms on
our engine during our chase. Two citizens went along from here, which made
about seven men on our little pole-car. As we proceeded toward Etowah, we
moved rapidly, being down grade, when suddenly we beheld an open place in
the track. A piece of rail had been taken up by the raiders. Having no
brake, we could not hold our car in check, and plunged into this gap,
turning over with all hands except Fuller and myself, who jumped before
the car left the track. The little car was put on again, and the poling
man sent back to the next track-gang to have repairs made for following
trains.”
Arriving at Etowah, the pursuers found the engine “Yonah,” used by the
Cooper Iron Company, and pressed it into service. They got an open car,
and stocked it with rails, spikes and tools, and moved on to Cartersville.
Passing on to Rogers’ Station, they learned that the raiders had stopped
there for wood and water, telling Mr. Rogers that they were under military
orders, and that the engine crew proper were coming on behind. At Kingston
the raiders had told that they were carrying ammunition to General
Beauregard, on the line of the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, near
Huntsville, Alabama. At this point the “Yonah” was sent back to Etowah,
and the supply car of the pursuers coupled to the engine “New York.” But
at Kingston the Rome Railroad connects with the Western & Atlantic road,
and the Rome engine and train were in the way. Instead of clearing the
track for the “New York,” the crowd at the Kingston depot, having learned
the news, took possession of the Rome engine and some cars attached, and
pulled out for the chase, which compelled Mr. Murphy and his friends to
abandon their outfit and run to get on the same train. A few miles were
made, when they found a pile of cross-ties on the rails, and the telegraph
wires cut. Clearing the track they moved on, when they encountered another
gap. Here Messrs. Murphy and Fuller, believing that they would meet the
engine “Texas” with a freight train, left the obstructed train and pressed
on again on foot, advising the crowd to return, which they did. The
pursuers met the “Texas” two miles from Adairsville, and, motioning the
engineer to stop, they went aboard and turned him back. At Adairsville
they learned that Andrews had not been long gone. Says the narrator:
“About three miles from Calhoun we came in sight for the first time of the
captured engine, and three freight cars. They had stopped to remove
another rail, and were in the act of trying to get it out when we came in
sight. * * * As we reached them, they cut loose one car and started again.
We coupled this car to our engine, and moved after them. * * * From Resaca
to Tilton the road was very crooked, and we had to move cautiously. The
distance between us was short. * * * I feared ambushing by
Andrews--reversing the engine and starting it back under an open throttle
valve. * * * To prevent us closing in on them, the end of the box car was
broken out, and from this they threw cross-ties on the track to check our
speed and probably derail us. * * * I had a long bar fastened to the brake
wheel of the tender to give power so that four men could use it to help
check and stop the engine suddenly. I also stood by the reverse lever to
aid the engineer to reverse his engine, which he had to do many times to
avoid the cross-ties.
“Passing through and beyond Tilton, we again came in sight. At this point
the road has a straight stretch of over a mile. A short distance from
Tilton and just as we rounded the curve, ‘The General’ with the raiders
was rounding another curve, leaving the straight line, giving us a fine
view for some distance across the angle. * * * The fastest run was made at
this point. * * * I imagine now, as I write this, I see the two great
locomotives with their human freight speeding on, one trying to escape,
the other endeavoring to overtake, and if such had happened none might
have been left to give the particulars of that exciting and daring
undertaking. The chances of battle were certainly against us if Andrews
had attempted fight.”
Just beyond Dalton the pursuers found the telegraph wire cut. On reaching
the “tunnel,” they were satisfied that Andrews was short of wood, or the
tunnel would not have been so clear of smoke. Passing through the tunnel
they kept on, and beyond Ringgold, about two miles, the captors left “The
General” and made for the woods. The pursuers were in sight of them. Mr.
Fuller and others started after the raiders. Mr. Murphy went on the engine
to examine the cause of the stop. He found no wood in the furnace, but
plenty of water in the boiler. Says Mr. Murphy: “I took charge of the
engine, ‘General,’ had it placed on the side-track, and waited for the
first train from Chattanooga to Atlanta. I reached Ringgold about dark. I
went aboard, and reaching Dalton, the first telegraph station, I sent the
first news of our chase and re-capture of the ‘General’ to Atlanta.”
CHAPTER VII.
Coming Home from Camp Chase--The Faithful Servant’s Gift--A Glimpse of
Confederate Braves.
“A letter from Marse Thomie,” said our mail carrier, Toby, as he got in
speaking distance on his return from the post office.
“What makes you think so?” I said, excitedly.
“I know his hand-write, and this is it,” selecting a letter from a large
package and handing it to me. The very first glimpse of the superscription
assured me of his confident assertion.
The letter was addressed to our mother, and bore a United States postage
stamp, and the beloved signature of her only son, Thomas J. Stokes. A
thrill of gratitude and joy filled our hearts too full for utterance, as
we read:
“MY DEAR MOTHER: I have learned that the soldiers of the 10th Texas
Infantry will be exchanged for the United States troops very soon, perhaps
to-morrow; and then, what happiness will be mine! I can scarcely wait its
realization. A visit home, a mother’s embrace and kiss, the heart-felt
manifestations of the love of two sisters, and the joy and glad expression
of faithful servants. I may bring several friends with me, whom I know you
will welcome, both for my sake and theirs--they are valiant defenders of
the cause we love. Adieu, dear mother, and sisters, until I see you at
home, ‘home, sweet home.’”
“Thomie is coming home!” “Thomie Stokes is coming home!” was the glad
announcement of mother, sisters, and friends; and the servants took up the
intelligence, and told everybody that Marse Thomie was coming home, and
was going to bring some soldiers with him.
Another day dawned and love’s labor commenced in earnest. Doors were
opened, and rooms ventilated: bed-clothing aired and sunned, and dusting
brushes and brooms in willing hands removed every particle of that much
dreaded material of which man in all his glory, or ignominy, was created.
Furniture and picture frames were polished and artistically arranged. And
we beheld the work of the first day, and it was good.
When another day dawned we were up with the lark, and his matin notes
found responsive melody in our hearts, the sweet refrain of which was,
“Thomie is coming”--the soldier son and brother. Light bread and rolls,
rusks and pies, cakes, etc., etc., were baked, and sweetmeats prepared,
and another day’s work was ended and pronounced satisfactory.
The third day, for a generous bonus, “Uncle Mack’s” services were secured,
and a fine pig was slaughtered and prepared for the oven, and also a
couple of young hens, and many other luxuries too numerous to mention.
When all was ready for the feast of thanksgiving for the return of the
loved one, the waiting seemed interminable. There was pathos in every
look, tone, and act of our mother--the lingering look at the calendar,
the frequent glance at the clock, told that the days were counted, yea,
that the hours were numbered. At length the weary waiting ended, and the
joyous meeting came of mother and son, of sisters and brother, after a
separation of four years of health and sickness, of joy and anguish, of
hope and fear.
As we stood upon the platform of the Decatur depot, and saw him step from
the train, which we had been told by telegram would bring him to us, our
hearts were filled with consternation and pity, and tears unbidden coursed
down our cheeks, as we looked upon the brave and gallant brother, who had
now given three years of his early manhood to a cause rendered dear by
inheritance and the highest principles of patriotism, and, in doing so,
had himself become a physical wreck. He was lean to emaciation, and in his
pale face was not a suggestion of the ruddy color he had carried away. A
constant cough, which he tried in vain to repress, betrayed the deep
inroads which prison life had made upon his system; and in this respect he
represented his friends--in describing his appearance, we leave nothing
untold about theirs. In war-worn pants and faded grey coats, they
presented a spectacle never to be forgotten.
Joy and grief contended for the supremacy. We did not realize that even a
brief period of good nursing and feeding would work a great change in the
physical being of men just out of the prison pens of the frigid North, and
wept to think that disease, apparently so deeply rooted, could not be
cured, and that they were restored to us but to die. Perceiving our grief
and divining the cause, our Thomie took us, our mother first, into his
arms and kissed us, and said in his old-time way, “I’ll be all right
soon.”
And Toby and Telitha, the house servants, came in for their share of
kindly greeting.
Thomie then introduced us to Captain Lauderdale, Captain Formwalt, and
Lieutenant McMurray, his Texas friends and comrades in arms. Our cordial,
heart-felt welcome was appreciated by this trio of gentlemen, and to this
day we receive from them messages of abiding friendship. Captain
Lauderdale was one of the most perfect gentlemen I ever saw--tall,
graceful, erect, and finely formed. His face, of Grecian mould, was
faultless; and his hair, black as a raven’s plumage, and interspersed with
grey, would have adorned the head of a king. His bearing was dignified and
yet affable, and so polished and easy in manner as to invite most friendly
intercourse.
Captain Formwalt was also a fine specimen of manhood--free and easy, gay
and rollicking. He seemed to think his mission on earth was to bring
cheerfulness and glee into every household he entered.
Lieutenant McMurray was unlike either of his friends. Apparently cold,
apathetic and reserved, he repelled all advances tending to cordial
relations, until well acquainted, after which he was metamorphosed into a
kind and genial gentleman.
Thomie, dear Thomie, was a boy again, and while our guests were refreshing
themselves preparatory to dinner, he was going all over the house, for
every nook and corner was endeared by association. He opened the piano,
and running his fingers over the keys with the grace and ease of his
boyhood, he played accompaniments to his favorite songs, “Home Again,” and
“Way Down Upon the Suwanee River,” trying to sing, but prevented by the
irrepressible coughing. Then, with nervous hand, he essayed “When this
Cruel War is Over.” Turning away from the piano, he went to the library
and handled with tender care the books he had read in boyhood.
Shakespeare, Milton, Byron and Moore possessed no interest for him now;
and Blackstone and Chitty were equally ignored. The books his mother and
sister read to him in his childhood were, as if by intuition, selected,
and fondly conned and handled. His own name was written in them, and his
tearful eyes lingered long and lovingly upon these reminders of boyhood’s
happy hours. With a sigh he left the library, and espying Toby, who kept
where he could see as much as possible of “Marse Thomie,” he called the
boy and held an encouraging little conversation with him.
Dinner being ready, our mother led the way to the dining room. Our guests
having taken the seats assigned them, Thomie took his near his mother--his
boyhood’s seat at table. By request, Captain Lauderdale asked the
blessing. And, oh, what a blessing he invoked upon the “dear ones, who,
with loving hands, prepared this feast for the son and brother of the
household, and for his friends in peace and comrades in war.” Pleasant
conversation ensued, and all enjoyed the repast. But the gentlemen seemed
to us to eat very little, and, in reply to our expression of
disappointment, they explained the importance of limiting themselves for
several days in this respect.
As there was no trunk to send for, and no valise to carry, we rightly
surmised that the clothing of these good men was limited to the apparel in
which they were clad, and it was decided by my mother and myself that I
should go to Atlanta and get material for a suit of clothes for Thomie,
and good warm underclothing for them all. Arrived at Atlanta, I was
irresistibly led by that mystic power, which has often controlled for good
results the acts of man, to go to Dr. Taylor’s drug store. Here I found
King, our faithful negro man, as busy as a bee, labeling and packing
medicine for shipment. I approached him and said:
“King, Thomie has come.”
“Marse Thomie?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” he said, with fervor.
When I was about leaving the store, he said:
“Miss Mary, just wait a minute, please, and I will get something that I
want you to take to Marse Thomie, and tell him I don’t want him to be hurt
with me for sending it to him. I just send it because I love him--me and
him was boys together, you know, and I always thought he ought to ’er took
me with him to the war.”
“What is it, King?”
“Just a little article I got in trade, Miss Mary,” was all the
satisfaction he vouchsafed.
When he handed it to me, knowing by the sense of touch that it was a
package of dry goods, I took it to Mrs. O’Connor’s millinery
establishment, and asked the privilege of opening it there. Imagine my
astonishment and delight, when I beheld a pattern of fine grey cassimere.
I felt of it, and held it up between my eyes and the light. There was
nothing shoddy about it. It was indeed a piece of fine cassimere, finer
and better than anything I could have procured in Atlanta at that time.
The circumstance was suggestive of Elijah and the ravens, and I thanked
God for the gift so opportune, and lost no time in returning to the drug
store, and thanking King, the raven employed by the Lord to clothe one of
His little ones. Nor did I lose any time in adding to the package other
articles of necessity, flannel and the best Georgia-made homespun I could
procure, and was then ready to take the return train to Decatur. Thomie
was deeply touched by the opportune gift, and said that King was a great
boy, and that he must see him.
After supper I clandestinely left the house, and ran around to Todd
McAllister’s and begged him to take the job of making the suit. He agreed
to cut the coat, vest and pantaloons by measure, and for that purpose went
home with me, shears and tape measure in hand. Having finished this
important part of the job, he told me he could not make the suit himself,
but he thought if I would “talk right pretty to the old lady,” she would
do it. Next morning I lost no time in “talking pretty” to the old lady,
and, having secured her promise to undertake the work, it was soon in her
hands. With the help of faithful, efficient women, and I suspect of her
husband, too, the job was executed surprisingly soon. In the meantime the
making of flannel garments, and homespun shirts with bosoms made of linen
pillow-cases, was progressing with remarkable celerity.
When all was finished, and Thomie was arrayed in his new suit, which set
admirably well notwithstanding the room allowed for increasing dimensions,
which we doubted not under good treatment he would attain--King Solomon,
in purple and fine linen, was not looked upon with more admiration than
was he by his loving mother and sisters. His cough had in a measure
yielded to remedies, and his cheeks bore the tinge of better blood.
Good Mr. Levi Willard, his wife and children, had already been to see
Thomie and the strangers within our gates, and many others had sent kind
messages and substantial tokens of regard. And the young people of
Decatur, young ladies and little boys, were planning to give him a
surprise party. And among these loving attentions was a visit from King,
the faithful.
The flowers bloomed prettier, the birds sang sweeter, because of their
presence; but time waits for no man, and we were admonished by low
conversations and suggestive looks that these men, officers in the army of
the Confederacy, were planning their departure.
Many amusing incidents, as well as those of a horrible character, were
told of their prison life in Camp Chase. To illustrate the patriotism of
Southern men, Colonel Deshler, as a prisoner of war, figured
conspicuously; and many anecdotes, ludicrous and pathetic, quaint and
original, revealed the deep devotion of his love for the South. In one of
these word-paintings, he was represented as sitting on his legs, darning
the seat of his pantaloons, when a feminine curiosity seeker came along.
When she perceived his occupation, she said with a leer that would have
done credit to Lucifer:
“You rebels find it pretty hard work to keep your gray duds in order,
don’t you?”
Without looking at her, he whistled in musical cadence the contempt he
felt for her and her ilk; and the imprecations, he would not have
expressed in words, were so distinct and well modulated as to leave no
doubt as to their meaning.
The time had come for the nature of the low-toned conversations referred
to, to be revealed, and Thomie was chosen to make the revelation. Planning
to have mother and sisters present, he discussed the duties of patriotism,
and the odium men brought upon themselves by not discharging those duties.
Making the matter personal, he referred to himself and friends, to the
great pleasure and personal benefit derived from a week’s sojourn at home;
of the love for us that would ever linger in their hearts; of the pleasant
memories that would nerve them in future conflicts; and in conclusion told
us that to-morrow they would leave us to join their command at Tullahoma,
where the decimated regiment was to stay until its numbers were
sufficiently recruited for service.
Instead of yielding to grief, we repressed every evidence of it, and spoke
only words of encouragement to these noble men who had never shirked a
duty, or sought bomb-proof positions in the army of the Confederacy. After
this interview, Thomie abandoned himself to cheerfulness, to almost boyish
gaiety. He kept very close to his mother. She had grown old so rapidly
since the troubles began, that she needed all the support that could be
given her in this ordeal. This he perceived without seeming to do so, and
left nothing within his power undone for her encouragement. He even
discussed with perfect equanimity the probability, yea, the more than
probability, of his getting killed in battle; for, said he, “he that
taketh up the sword, by the sword shall he perish.” And, he added,
“strong, irrepressible convictions constrained me to enter the army in
defense of mother, home, and country. My vote was cast for the secession
of my state from the union of states which existed only in name, and I
would not have accepted any position tendered me which would have secured
me from the dangers involved by that step. I was willing to give my life
if need be, for the cause which should be dear to every Southern heart.”
Every one present responded to these noble sentiments, for were we not
soldiers, too, working for the same noble cause, and aiding and abetting
those who fought its battles?
Before retiring to our rooms, Captain Lauderdale, as usual, led in prayer,
fervent, deep and soul supporting, more for our mother and ourselves than
for himself and his comrades in their perilous positions. And dear Thomie,
whom I had never heard pray since his cradle invocation,
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,”
finished in words thrilling and beautiful. The effect was electrical.
Tears and sobs were no longer repressed, and all found relief from long
pent-up feelings. O, the blessedness of tears!
Morning came, clear as crystal, and cool and exhilarating. The household
were up at early dawn. A strong decoction of coffee was prepared, and
fresh cream toast and boiled eggs, meat relishes being served cold.
Knapsacks--there were knapsacks now--were packed, and blankets rolled and
buckled in straps, and our ebony Confederates, Toby and Telitha, stood
ready to convey them to the depot. In order to meet the morning train at
seven o’clock we started, but the services of Toby and Telitha were not
accepted. The gentlemen said it would never do for soldiers to start off
to report for service with negroes carrying their knapsacks and blankets.
They had no muskets to shoulder, for of these they had been divested at
Arkansas Post, months ago, when captured by the enemy.
Lieutenant McMurray, who was in feeble health, announced himself unable to
report for duty, and remained with us several weeks longer.
The parting at the depot did not betray the grief, almost without earthly
hope, that was rankling in our hearts, and the “good-bye’s” and “God bless
you’s” were uttered with a composure we little thought at our command.
As the time of his departure had drawn near, Thomie had sought
opportunities to tell me much of the young girl in Texas, who had healed
the lacerations of his youthful heart, and won the admiration of his
manhood, and whom he had made his wife. Upon her devotion he dwelt with
peculiar pathos and gratitude; and he concluded these conversations with
the request that under any and all circumstances I would be a sister to
her. On one occasion we were standing near the piano, and, when we ceased
to talk, Thomie opened it, and in tones that came from the heart, and that
were tremulous with emotion, he sang, “When this Cruel War is Over.”
Why sings the swan its sweetest notes,
When life is near its close?
Since writing the foregoing, I have had access to a journal kept during
the war by my half sister, Missouri Stokes, in which are the following
entries of historic value: “On the 11th of January, 1868, Arkansas Post,
the fort where Thomie was stationed, fell into the hands of Yankees.
General Churchhill’s whole command, numbering about four thousand, were
captured, a few being killed and wounded. We knew that Thomie, if alive,
must be a prisoner, but could hear no tidings from him. Our suspense
continued until the latter part of March, when ma received a letter from
our loved one, written at Camp Chase (military prison), Ohio, February
10th. This letter she forwarded to me, and I received it March 21st, with
heart-felt emotions of gratitude to Him who had preserved his life. A few
weeks afterwards another letter came, saying he expected to be exchanged
in a few days, and then for several weeks we heard no more.”
From this journal I learn that the date of Thomie’s arrival was May 16th,
1863. My sister wrote of him: “He seemed much changed, although only four
years and a half had elapsed since we parted. He looked older, thinner,
and more careworn, and gray hairs are sprinkled among his dark brown
curls. His health had been poor in the army, and then, when he left Camp
Chase, he, as well as the other prisoners, was stripped by the Yankees of
nearly all his warm clothing. He left the prison in April, and was
exchanged at City Point. How strange the dealings of Providence. Truly was
he led by a way he knew not. He went out to Texas by way of the West, and
returned home from the East. God be thanked for preserving his life, when
so many of his comrades have died. He is a miracle of mercy. After their
capture, they were put on boats from which Yankee small-pox patients had
been taken. Some died of small-pox, but Thomie has had varioloid and so
escaped. He was crowded on a boat with twenty-two hundred, and scarcely
had standing room. Many died on the passage up the river, one poor fellow
with his head in Thomie’s lap. May he never go through similar scenes
again!”
From this same journal I take the following, written after Missouri’s
return to the school she was teaching in Bartow county:
“Sabbath morning, June 14th. Went to Cartersville to church. Some time
elapsed before preaching commenced. A soldier came in, sat down rather
behind me, then, rising, approached me. _It was Thomie._ I soon found (for
we did talk in church) that he had an order to join Kirby Smith, with a
recommendation from Bragg that he be allowed to recruit for his regiment.
Fortunately there was a vacant seat in the carriage, so he went out home
with us. Monday 15th, Thomie left. I rode with him a little beyond the
school-house, then took my books and basket, and with one kiss, and, on my
part, a tearful good-bye, we parted. As I walked slowly back, I felt so
lonely. He had been with me just long enough for me to realize a brother’s
kind protection, and now he’s torn away, and I’m again alone. I turned and
looked. He was driving slowly along--he turned a corner and was hidden
from my view. Shall I see him no more? Or shall we meet again? God only
knows. After a fit of weeping, and one earnest prayer for him, I turned my
steps to my little school.”
And thus our brother went back to Texas, and gladly, too, for was not his
Mary there?
Of Thomie’s recall to join his command at Dalton; of his arrival at home
the next February, on his way to “the front;” of his participation in the
hard-fought battles that contested the way to Atlanta; and of his untimely
death at the fatal battle of Franklin, Tennessee, I may speak hereafter.
Even in the spring and summer of 1863, the shadows began to deepen, and to
hearts less sanguine than mine, affairs were assuming a gloomy aspect. I
notice in this same journal from which I have quoted the foregoing
extracts, the following:
“Our fallen braves, how numerous! Among our generals, Zollicoffer, Ben
McCulloch, Albert Sidney Johnston, and the saintly, dauntless Stonewall
Jackson, are numbered with the dead; while scarcely a household in our
land does not mourn the loss of a brave husband and father, son or
brother.”
CHAPTER VIII.
SOME SOCIAL FEATURES.
Morgan’s Men Rendezvous near Decatur--Waddell’s Artillery--Visits from the
Texans--Surgeon Haynie and his Song.
In the winter of 1864 there seems to have been a lull of hostilities
between the armies at “the front.” Morgan’s men were rendezvousing near
Decatur. Their brave and dashing chief had been captured, but had made his
escape from the Ohio penitentiary, and was daily expected. Some artillery
companies were camping near, among them Waddell’s. There was also a
conscript camp within a mile or two; so it is not to be wondered at that
the young ladies of Decatur availed themselves in a quiet way of the
social enjoyment the times afforded, and that there were little gatherings
at private houses at which “Morgan’s men” and the other soldiers were
frequently represented.
Our brother was absent in Texas, where he had been assigned to duty, but
my sister was at home, and many an hour’s entertainment her music gave
that winter to the soldiers and to the young people of Decatur. My
mother’s hospitality was proverbial, and much of our time these wintry
months was spent in entertaining our soldier guests, and in ministering to
the sick in the Atlanta hospitals, and in the camps and temporary
hospitals about Decatur.
So near were we now to “the front” (about a hundred miles distant), that
several of my brother’s Texas comrades obtained furloughs and came to see
us. Among these were Lieutenants Prendergast and Jewell, Captain Leonard
and Lieutenant Collins, Captain Bennett and Lieutenant Donathan. They
usually had substantial boots made while here, by Smith, the Decatur boot
and shoe maker, which cost less than those they could have bought in
Atlanta. We received some very pleasant calls from Morgan’s men and
Waddell’s Artillery. Among the latter we have always remembered a young
man from Alabama, James Duncan Calhoun, of remarkable intellectual
ability, refreshing candor and refinement of manner. Ever since the war
Mr. Calhoun has devoted himself to journalism. Among the former we recall
Lieutenant Adams, Messrs. Gill, Dupries, Clinkinbeard, Steele, Miller,
Fortune, Rowland, Baker, and Dr. Lewis. These gentlemen were courteous and
intelligent, and evidently came of excellent Kentucky and Tennessee
families. One evening several of these gentlemen had taken tea with us,
and after supper the number of our guests was augmented by the coming of
Dr. Ruth, of Kentucky, and Dr. H. B. Haynie, surgeon of the 14th Tennessee
Cavalry. Dr. Haynie was an elderly, gray-haired man, of fine presence, and
with the courtly manners of the old school. On being unanimously
requested, he sang us a song entitled: “The Wailings at Fort Delaware,”
which he had composed when an inmate of that wretched prison. As one of
the gentlemen remarked, “there is more truth than poetry in it;” yet there
are in it some indications of poetic genius, and Dr. Haynie sang it with
fine effect.
“THE WAILINGS AT FORT DELAWARE.”
By B. H. HAYNIE, Surgeon 14th Tennessee Cavalry (Morgan’s Division).
Oh! here we are confined at Fort Delaware,
With nothing to drink but a little lager beer,
Infested by vermin as much as we can bear;
Oh Jeff, can’t you help us to get away from here?
CHORUS--
And it’s home, dearest home, the place I ought to be,
Home, sweet home, way down in Tennessee,
Where the ash and the oak and the bonny willow tree,
Are all growing green way down in Tennessee.
The Island itself will do well enough,
But the flat-footed Dutch are filthy and rough,
Oh! take us away from the vandal clan,
Down into Dixie among the gentlemen.
CHORUS--And its home, dearest home, etc.
Spoiled beef and bad soup is our daily fare,
And to complain is more than any dare;
They will buck us and gag us, and cast us in a cell,
There to bear the anguish and torments of hell.
CHORUS--
The den for our eating is anything but clean,
And the filth upon the tables is plainly to be seen,
And the smell of putrefaction rises on the air,
“To fill out the bill” of our daily fare.
CHORUS--
[3]“The sick are well treated,” as Southern surgeons say,
“And the losses by death are scarcely four per day;”
It’s diarrhœa mixture for scurvy and small-pox,
And every other disease of Pandora’s box!
CHORUS--
Oh! look at the graveyard on the Jersey shore,
At the hundreds and the thousands who’ll return no more;
Oh! could they come back to testify
Against the lying devils, and live to see them die!
CHORUS--
[3]“Our kindness to prisoners you cannot deny,
For we have the proof at hand upon which you can rely;
It’s no Dutch falsehood, nor a Yankee trick,
But from Southern surgeons who daily see the sick.”
CHORUS--
Our chaplain, whose heart was filled with heavenly joys,
Asked leave to pray and preach to Southern boys;
“Oh, no!” says the General, “you are not the man,
You are a Southern rebel, the vilest of your clan!”
CHORUS--
Oh! speak out, young soldier, and let your country hear,
All about your treatment at Fort Delaware;
How they worked you in their wagons when weary and sad,
With only half rations, when plenty they had.
CHORUS--
The barracks were crowded to an overflow,
Without a single comfort on the soldier to bestow;
Oh, there they stood shivering in hopeless despair,
With insufficient diet or clothing to wear!
CHORUS--
The mother stood weeping in sorrows of woe,
Mingling her tears with the waters that flow;
Her son was expiring at Fort Delaware,
Which could have been avoided with prudence and care.
CHORUS--
Oh! take off my fetters and let me go free,
To roam o’er the mountains of old Tennessee;
To bathe in her waters and breathe her balmy air,
And look upon her daughters so lovely and fair.