I was born at the old home in Raleigh, upon the land originally held
by my great-grandfather, Colonel Lane, from the Crown. It had been the
home of my grandfather, Harry Lane, and of his wife, Mary, and it was
there that their children and grandchildren were born. When my oldest
brother attained his majority, he took possession of this place, while
my mother settled at Wills Forest, which was also part of the Lane
land. This, Wills Forest, became our beloved summer home, which I
inherited at the death of my dear mother. At the breaking out of the
war between the states, your grandfather left to his subordinates his
plantation interests in the eastern part of the state, and Wills
Forest became our permanent home. Although you never saw this place in
its palmy days, still, you are too well acquainted with its situation
to need a description. In spite of neglect, Wills Forest is still
beautiful; to it my heart is ever turning with regret and longing for
that which can never return. It was for many years the brightest and
happiest of homes, and as such it is still remembered by many besides
its former inmates.
Hospitality has ever been a marked characteristic of the Lane blood.
Colonel Lane's doors were ever open, not only to his friends, but to
every wayfarer, and as the small settlement, originally called
Bloomsbury, became Raleigh, and the state capital, he found it
necessary to build an "ornery" for the accommodation of strangers;
this building stood upon Hillsborough Street, and was torn down only a
short time ago. These "orneries" were a very common adjunct to
gentlemen's residences in country neighborhoods, where there were no
inns for the accommodation of travelers. We once stopped at one
belonging to the Littles, near Littleton. It was kept by two servants,
a man and his wife, belonging to the family, and they made us very
comfortable.
My grandfather, Harry Lane, inherited his father's liberal and
open-hearted nature, and the old home, even since the death of my
brother, still maintains its character for genial hospitality. Nor was
Wills Forest inferior to it in that respect. My mother, accustomed
from earliest youth to lavish housekeeping, kept it up after her
removal to Wills Forest, and, so long as her health permitted, ever
took delight in making her home all that a kindly, open-handed
hospitality could. Nor do I think its character deteriorated after
your grandfather became its master. Both he and I were fond of
society, and few strangers ever came to town who were not entertained
at Wills Forest. This could not be possible now, but previous to the
war it was not at all impossible, and, during the war, at times, we
received whole families of refugees. I do not mention these facts in a
boastful spirit, but only as a sample of the old customs of the South.
During the winter of 1865, we had the pleasure of entertaining the
family of Colonel Norris of Baltimore, and early in March we had an
unexpected visit from a large party of South Carolinians, who had been
wounded in an attack made by General Kilpatrick upon Gen. Joseph E.
Johnston's command at Fayetteville. Your grandfather met them in the
street seeking for shelter; and, compassionating their forlorn
condition, he directed them to Wills Forest. When we first caught
sight of the cortege surrounding two ambulances, we were alarmed,
thinking that it must be the Yankees coming to deprive us of house and
home. You may, perhaps, imagine the relief when I saw the dear
Confederate gray. I met the cavalcade at the front steps, and bade
them welcome; the wounded were brought in and laid upon beds in the
nursery, after which I directed one of our men, Frank, the
carriage-driver, I think it was, to conduct the horsemen to the
stable, to give the horses a plentiful feed, and then to bring the men
up to the house to get their dinners. In ordinary times, this
unlooked-for addition of more than twenty guests would, no doubt, have
been an unwelcome tax, but in those days preceding the sad termination
of the war there were so many poor, half-starved stragglers from the
different commands passing to and fro, that we were never unprepared
to feed as many as called upon us. At this time, two cooks were kept
continually at work in the kitchen preparing such plain food as we
could command: such as boiled hams, biscuit, loaf bread, corn bread,
and wheat coffee. The milk and butter, all that we had, were joyfully
given to our soldiers. The gray jacket was, indeed, a passport to
every Southern heart. I have fed many a poor, footsore "boy in gray,"
but never in a single instance heard a despondent word from one of
them. Most grateful they were for their good, abundant meals, but
often too modest to carry any away in their haversacks.
In times of peace, both before and after the war, the social life at
the table, with family and always welcome friends, was a source of
much pleasure. For a dinner of ten or twelve persons, including
ourselves, there would be a ham at the head, a large roast turkey at
the foot, a quarter of boiled mutton, a round of beef _a la mode_, and
a boiled turkey stuffed with oysters. In the middle of the table
would be celery in tall cut-glass stands, on the sides cranberries in
moulds and various kinds of pickles. With these would be served either
four or six dishes of vegetables and scalloped oysters, handed hot
from the plate-warmer. The dessert would be a plum pudding, clear
stewed apples with cream, with a waiter in the centre filled with
calf's-foot jelly, syllabub in glasses, and cocoanut or cheesecake
puddings at the corners. The first cloth was removed with the meats.
For a larger entertainment a roast pig would be added, ice-cream would
take the place of stewed apples. The dessert cloth would be removed
with the dessert, and the decanters and fruit set upon the bare
mahogany, with the decanters in coasters; cigars would follow, after
the ladies had left, of course.
At the time of the surrender, General Logan borrowed, or asked to
borrow, my tables and cut-glass tumblers and wine-glasses; as such a
request meant an order, I, of course, allowed them to be taken; to my
surprise all were returned. Generals Grant and Sherman were
entertained by Logan at this time, the tables being set before his
tent in the grove.
When my two little girls went to day school at St. Mary's, their
dinners were sent to them by a negro boy or man. He carried the basket
of hot dinner, while another carried the ice for their water, while
another often walked behind bearing a large watermelon. As the other
day-pupils dined in a similar way, the road at this time of day would
be full of negroes carrying dinners.
Since these bygone days, knowledge has increased, and men go to and
fro with ease between the far corners of the earth; but I do not think
that either virtue or happiness has kept pace with this increase of
knowledge, nor has there ever been or will there ever be again such a
country as the Old South, nor a people so good, so brave, or so
true-hearted as the dear, primitive people of that good old time.