SOME of the happiest days of my childhood were spent in Jackson,
magnolia-clad, holly-decked Jackson.
I remember the journey very well. We went in a box car, my father on his
cot. We had nothing for seats but some boxes. There were armed soldiers
on our train. We passed little squads of soldiers at intervals along the
roadside, some of whom with stacked arms were engaged in cooking by
their campfires. Sometimes the train would stop a few minutes, and some
of the “boys” would come up and talk to us.
Arrived at Jackson, we were taken in an ambulance to hospital No. 2,
where they were too full to receive us. We were invited to dinner,
however, and were then assigned quarters in a large hotel called the
Manassas House. The hotel property was owned by a Mr. Tolliver. There
were two landlords or proprietors, Hotellen and Wilcox by name. There
was no landlady but a housekeeper known as Irish Mary. There was also an
Irishman employed as a “handy man,” whose name was Mike.
Jackson was a beautiful little city situated between two railroads. It
contained many handsome residences set back in well kept grounds. It was
in possession of the Union troops. Gen. Sullivan was in command. Col.
Lawler had his headquarters near the hotel. The 103d Illinois and other
regiments were in camp here. There were two large brick hospitals, known
as No. 1 and No. 2, situated on opposite sides of the town. Dr.
Haversett was in charge of both. Miss Adaline Williams had been sent
here from Corinth and was assigned to duty in No. 1, where I made daily
visits passing on the way two huge piles of cannon balls stacked up in
pyramidal form.