CHESTER, S. C. – Another flitting has occurred. Captain
Ogden came for me; the splendid Childs was true as steel to the last. Surely he
is the kindest of men. Captain Ogden was slightly incredulous when I depicted
the wonders of Colonel Childs's generosity. So I skilfully led out the good
gentleman for inspection, and he walked to the train with us. He offered me
Confederate money, silver, and gold; and finally offered to buy our cotton and
pay us now in gold. Of course, I laughed at his overflowing bounty, and
accepted nothing; but I begged him to come down to Chester or Camden and buy
our cotton of General Chesnut there.
On the train after leaving Lincolnton, as Captain Ogden is a
refugee, has had no means of communicating with his home since New Orleans
fell, and was sure to know how refugees contrive to live, I beguiled the time
acquiring information from him. “When people are without a cent, how do they
live?” I asked. “I am about to enter the noble band of homeless, houseless
refugees, and Confederate pay does not buy one's shoe-strings.” To which he
replied, “Sponge, Sponge. Why did you not let Colonel Childs pay your bills?” “I
have no bills,” said I. “We have never made bills anywhere, not even at home,
where they would trust us, and nobody would trust me in Lincolnton.” “Why did
you not borrow his money? General Chesnut could pay him at his leisure?” “I am
by no means sure General Chesnut will ever again have any money,” said I.
As the train rattled and banged along, and I waved my
handkerchief in farewell to Miss Middleton, Isabella, and other devoted
friends, I could only wonder if fate would ever throw me again with such kind,
clever, agreeable, congenial companions? The McLeans refused to be paid for
their rooms. No plummet can sound the depths of the hospitality and kindness of
the North Carolina people.
Misfortune dogged us from the outset. Everything went wrong
with the train. We broke down within two miles of Charlotte, and had to walk
that distance; which was pretty rough on an invalid barely out of a fever. My
spirit was further broken by losing an invaluable lace veil, which was worn
because I was too poor to buy a cheaper one—that is, if there were any veils at
all for sale in our region.
My husband had ordered me to a house in Charlotte kept by
some great friends of his. They established me in the drawing-room, a really
handsome apartment; they made up a bed there and put in a washstand and plenty
of water, with everything refreshingly clean and nice. But it continued to be a
public drawing-room, open to all, so that I was half dead at night and wanted
to go to bed. The piano was there and the company played it.
The landlady announced, proudly, that for supper there were
nine kinds of custard. Custard sounded nice and light, so I sent for some, but
found it heavy potato pie. I said: “Ellen, this may kill me, though Dover's
powder did not.” “Don't you believe dat, Missis; try.” We barricaded ourselves
in the drawing-room that night and left the next day at dawn. Arrived at the
station, we had another disappointment; the train was behind time. There we sat
on our boxes nine long hours; for the cars might come at any moment, and we
dared not move an inch from the spot.
Finally the train rolled in overloaded with paroled prisoners,
but heaven helped us: a kind mail agent invited us, with two other forlorn
women, into his comfortable and clean mail-car. Ogden, true to his theory, did
not stay at the boarding-house as we did. Some Christian acquaintances took him
in for the night. This he explained with a grin.
My husband was at the Chester station with a carriage. We
drove at once to Mrs. Da Vega's.
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 367-9
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