Showing posts with label Margaret Junkin Preston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Margaret Junkin Preston. Show all posts

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: April 10, 1865

News has come that Lee's army has surrendered! We are struck dumb with astonishment! Why then all these four years of suffering — of separations — of horror — of blood — of havoc — of awful bereavement! Why these ruined homes — these broken family circles — these scenes of terror that must scathe the brain of those who witnessed them till their dying day! Why is our dear Willy in his uncoffined grave? Why poor Frank to go through life with one arm? Is it wholly and forever in vain? God only knows!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 207-8

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: July 4, 1865

The Confederacy disowns forever as sacred the Fourth of July. I never saw a quieter day. Martial law is proclaimed.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 208

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: July 10, 1865

It seems scarcely worth while to continue my jottings. I have so few items to note. A week ago four of our servants were dismissed. Mr. P. thought it best to change, so he sent them away. Anakee has lived with him 25 years; he was grieved to give her up, and she wanted to stay. Old Uncle Young manifested no pleasure at the idea of freedom. It is astonishing how little it seems to affect them; they seem depressed rather than elated.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 208

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, January 24, 1865

Richmond, Tuesday, January 24th, 1865.

You will get this by General Smith. He goes up to rest, leaving me to discharge his duties as well as my own as professor. I will not underrate the laborious nature of the work, as I mean to make it the foundation of a claim for furlough when he gets back!

I send you as the principal item, Thackeray's last novel, “Philip.” Remember when you read it to return your thanks for it to Colonel Crutchfield. I have read it with much satisfaction. As a story it is a mere framework, hastily and inartistically run up, and scarce aims to excite much interest by the events. It is a book of characters, and of characters by no means perfect. In fact there is but one actor introduced (Mrs. Pendennis) who does not require the veil of charity to conceal very considerable flaws. The staple of the book is a merciless exhibition of the badness of human nature. D. and the preacher Hunt are two of the most unmitigated evildoers on the records of fiction. Other characters you will find in the book that are strong types of bad men, each in his peculiar line, but the analysis will bring out from all the root evil of supreme selfishness. The philosophy of his book is to make selfishness odious, or at all events, in a cynical way, to show how prevalent it is. His female characters are not quite as bad as his men, but they are hard cases indeed. I have not time to individualize. But you will relish, I know, the picture of true married love in Pendennis and his wife. It is so exquisite and so natural and of course so true. And what art there is in the way in which he just opens the gates of Eden for us as we stand outside, not permitting us to enter, and not describing its beauties, but only allowing us to get a view along one vista of the trees in the heavenly garden, to hear one song of the birds of Paradise, to inhale the perfume wafted to the gate from the banks of ever blooming flowers, and to see at a distance Adam and Eve in loving talk and quiet bliss! And then the gates close upon our eager eyes, to be opened again when we do not expect it, and to furnish some other scene, differing in features, but the same in entrancing loveliness. I have hardly ever met with anything more charming than this fragmentary vision of perfect wifehood. The author gives us different colored bits of glory, and says to our imagination, “Put them together, and see what they will make.”

Somebody has undertaken to restore the lost books of Livy, by his profound and minute acquaintance with history: I think if we were together, we know enough about the subject matter of Mrs. Pendennis' story, to fill up the gaps in it! The story falls off decidedly at the end, and the denouement is as manifest, commonplace, and clap-trap as ever a lazy man of genius was guilty of. But take it altogether, it is so sharp and witty, and, from its standpoint, so true, that I enjoyed it amazingly. How much better it would have been if Phebe had read it aloud to us, so that we could have exchanged criticisms! By the time I see you I will have forgotten all about it. Indeed it would cost me some trouble to recall its particulars even now. But at all events, I have had my talk with you about it.

Item second is a pair of rubber shoes. I don't think Cinderella's foot can get into them, but they are the only pair I have been able to find, and maybe they will answer. If they are too small, write me word; you can give them away, or sell them. I gave $30. for them. Perhaps by further search I may pick up another pair.
Also, a ream of paper for you, like this I am writing on. It will try your eyes less than that you have been writing on. As it is much better than what we get ordinarily, you had better send to Captain Polk and get some of a larger size for the use of the household. . . .

Also, a piece of stuff for Phebe which Sister gave me at Oakland; this is the first opportunity I have had to send it.

Also, one orange. Some lady gave this ostentatious piece of blockade goods to Frank, and he (after eating another, I believe), brought this to me two weeks ago. Of course I was not child enough to eat it, but saved it for you all.

Also, a number of illustrated papers for G. and H. — Bless their hearts — I wish I had something better to send them!

There now is my invoice. Very small, but it is my little all, and represents more love than many a bride's trousseau, or rich man's legacy. I wish I could have procured something for all the household, but it is impossible. You have no idea how meagre all the shops look, and how absolutely unesthetic in things great and small the metropolis is. Absolutely, there is nothing grand about here but General Lee, and nothing beautiful but the music at the Monumental Church. (Dinner Drum!)

Postscript item: Since dinner has come in another important addition; this time for Johnny — a bridle! A regular army bridle, from the Ordnance Department. I give this to him upon condition that he puts mine away, and keeps it safe until I get back. Mind, he must not lose anything about it, not even a bit! Poor pun, but like my presents, the best I can make in these Confederate times.
And now good-bye to you all. I send no news, though there are a great many rumors on the street today. You will see them all in the papers before this reaches you.

Your Husband.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 204-7

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 17, 1864

This morning as we sat at breakfast, we got news that Mr. P. was coming, and oh! with what joy we soon received him! Thank God for his deliverance! Two days ago I thought it a very possible thing that we might never meet in this world, and now he is here safe. Surely our prayers have been heard, and we have been blessed beyond all we dared to hope.

Our spirits begin to rise already, and we cease to feel subjugated, as we surely did two days ago. I thought the cause of the Confederacy was finished for the present, or at least that it was a hopeless struggle. I feel differently now. As to losses, Mr. P. says that $30,000 would scarcely cover what he has lost by this invasion. He is a poor man now for the rest of his days, he says; but he bears it with a brave and Christian spirit, and utters no complaint.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 197

Monday, June 22, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Thursday, June 16, 1864

As after a storm has passed, we go out and look abroad to see the extent of the damage done, so now, having been swept with the besom of destruction, we look around, as soon as the calm has come, and try to collect our scattered remnants of property, and see whether we have anything to live on.

On Tuesday morning our guard left in a great hurry, though not before I had delivered a letter to one of them to carry to J., which he pledged himself to take care of. The town began gradually to be cleared, and though we did not know under what rule we were to be considered, we crept out to try to hear something. The experience of our neighbors has been in some instances worse, in some better than ours; but all have suffered. Some idea of our absorption of thought may be imagined, when I record that since last Friday till yesterday, we actually forgot to have any dinner gotten; we forgot to eat; four days we went from morning till dark without food.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 196-7

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Tuesday Morning, June 14, 1864

Have had many experiences since yesterday morning. Our guard has been very kind, and we have done everything for them as if they were our own men, because we feel that our safety rests with them. Yesterday the best one came and said, “An officer has just been at the gate, demanding to know if this house has been searched; I told him it had been; has it?” Phoebe said “No.” He said the officer asked if there were not anything suspicious about us; the guard assured him there was not. “Now,” said he, “you must assure me there is nothing contraband in your house, or I may compromise myself greatly by what I have done.” We told him of the cadets who had left their trunks here; he said they must be examined, but that it would not do to send them at this late hour down to the Provost Marshal, after he had pledged himself that the house had been searched. He evidently was nonplussed, and so were we. He begged us to be in haste and have the trunks opened. We furnished a hatchet; he hewed them open, and there were the uniforms! He said they must be destroyed somehow, and that we had better burn them. We kindled a big fire in the ironing room, and piled it up with nice cloth clothes; but the smell of the burning cloth went all over the house, and the guard said we would be betrayed. Then, in our alarm, we poured water on the charred clothes, and by his directions, tore them to pieces. I suppose what we destroyed had cost two thousand dollars. Oh! what a consternation seized us as the guards bade us hurry. We were in despair about concealing the remnants, but he bade us shun concealment; to leave the remnants out upon the floor, and tell the officers, if they should come, that we had been searched, and he would confirm what we said. “All this is out of order,” he said, “but I want to keep your house from being plundered, which it certainly will be if they find all these clothes.” Such a pile as they amounted to! We were frightened at it; so I crept into the loft above the porch, and stowed away under the rafters quantities of the rags. We tore to strips all Frank's outside clothes, and how my heart did revolt at it, and my fingers refuse to do their office: we cut up Mr. P.'s new coat, which he had just gotten at a cost of something like $300. We were afraid to let the guard know what an amount of uniform there was, lest he should think we were deceiving him. These officers and cadets (there were seven trunks besides Frank's and Mr. P.'s) had just sent their trunks here by the V. M. I. servants, and we did not know some of the young men even by name or sight. Just as I was descending from the loft, candle in hand, the guard's head appeared above the stairs! One of the servants had just time to wave me back, and then I crouched at the open trap door, the guard talking a few feet from me; I expecting every instant that he would advance and put his head up to see if there was anything suspicious up there. I never was placed in such circumstances of danger in my life. I called on God to aid me. After a little, the guard turned away, having ordered the buttons all to be given to him. Such a relief as I experienced! After coming down, I found another cadet's suit, which had never been worn, of nice English cloth, which in Confederate money would have cost $500. — I took a penknife and slit it to pieces, and added it to the pile. Going out into the passage I encountered the guard coming down from the third story where the clothes lay, with a pair of new shoes in his hand; he said his comrade had an old pair on, and he might as well take this cadet's, as they were contraband. He took Frank's cap, vest, and pants, and this morning the other fellow rode away with them on. I had become so alarmed that I thought it time he should know the wounded man was here, so I said, “Come in and see this wounded cadet!” He seemed surprised, but came in, and talked very civilly; the cadet lay pale and motionless, never opening his eyes. The guard asked if we did not need help in sitting up with him at night, and talked so kindly that quiet tears began to steal down the poor wounded boy's face — for he is only seventeen. Phoebe began to weep too; the guard looked on a moment, and then said, “Well, in the other world there will surely be somebody made to suffer for all this!” I take time to note this; it is an incident worth preserving.

There was still Jackson's sword. With great trouble we carried it under our clothes — that sword that had flashed victoriously over many a battle field — and finally concealed it in an outhouse. Then breathing freely for the first time since our fright, we went to the guard and told him there was not to our knowledge, and we were willing to take our oath upon it, an article of contraband clothing, or an instrument of defence in the house. He said he was perfectly satisfied, and nobody should enter the house to search, except over him.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 194-6

Friday, June 19, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday Morning, June 13, 1864

I had a calm, solemn, two-hours conversation yesterday, with an intelligent and seemingly Christian man, which has filled me with entire despair for the Confederacy. He listened to my solemn declarations that I knew the spirit which animated every man, woman, and child was a martyr spirit; was a conscientious belief that in the sight of heaven they were doing their holiest duty; that there was a deadly earnestness among our men which would make the last remnant of them fly to our mountain fastnesses and fight like tigers till the last inch of ground was taken from them: that then the women and children would be swept into the Ocean on one side, and into the wilds of Mexico on the other, but there could be no yielding. “If,” said he, after listening with deep interest to what I had been saying, if I believed that your spirit animated your army, I would feel obliged to lay down this sword; I could not fight against men who fought for conscience’ sake.” “I beseech you, sir,” I said, “to believe it; for it is as true as that the heavens are above us.” This is the sentiment expressed by the best of them. He took from his pocket-book some leaves which he had gathered from Jackson's grave, which he said he would keep as sacred mementos. One of the guard which he sent us, decent fellows, who have kept us from being insulted, asked me for some trifle that had belonged to Jackson, saying, “We think as much of him as you do.” I gave them each an autograph.

We were told the house was to be searched for arms as some of our neighbors’ have been. I delivered up all the sporting guns, but forgot that I had hidden Jackson’s sword in a dark loft above the portico. At one o'clock last night I crept up there as stealthily as a burglar, and brought it down, intending to deliver it up to this Lt. B.; but on running up the back way to Dr. White's gate, and consulting him, he said he had his old sword, which had never been in the service, and advised me to keep it as long as I could. I have hidden it in Anna Jackson's piano. We hear that we are to be searched this morning; almost every house in town has been, and but for the interest this Lt. has taken in us, I believe we should have been too.

Gen. Smith's house has not been burned; they have not yet discovered our wounded man. Oh! I am so exhausted — so heart and soul weary! We have heard many times this morning that the Cadets have been captured. Lynchburg no doubt has fallen, for there was no force there. The servants are flocking away. The soldiers almost force them into the omnibuses. We have a young girl here now, our Mary's sister, whom they were about to drag away; Mary went and brought her here for safe keeping.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 192-4

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday, June 12, 1864 – 12 o’Clock

We have just heard that Gen. Smith, Col. Williamson, and Col. Gilham with some of the Cadets have been taken prisoners! Where is my husband? Where is Frank? If our house is burned to night, and we hear of my husband being captured or killed, what will life be worth? God protect and have mercy upon us all! To whom can we look but Thee!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 191-2

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday, June 12, 1864 – 3 P. M.

. . . I am in despair! Forty thousand troops are marching upon Richmond through here; eight thousand more left in Staunton, as an intelligent guard told us. Richmond must fall — how can it withstand such numbers!

I am astonished that in the midst of our frightful troubles we are enabled to be so calm. How awful is war! Who would think this was Sunday, and our intended Communion! One of our overseers has just come into town, and has told one of our servants that every sheep has been slaughtered, every cow, and the horses carried off. We are ruined, nearly; if this house is burned, then all is gone but the bare land. I continue to scratch down a line now and then, to occupy myself. I do it too, that my father and friends in the North may know — if ever I can send them these notes — something of what I am passing through.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 192

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday Morning, June 12, 1864

A day I will never forget. I slept undisturbed during the night, but was called down stairs early this morning by the servants, who told me the throng of soldiers could not be kept out of the house. I went down and appealed to them as a lone woman who had nobody to protect her.

[M]ight as well have appealed to the bricks. I had left the smokehouse door open, to let them see that every piece of meat was taken (I had some hid under the porch, which as yet they have not found). They came into the dining-room, and began to carry away the china, when a young fellow from Philadelphia (he said) took the dishes from them, and made them come out. I told them all I was a Northern woman, but confessed that I was ashamed of my Northern lineage when I saw them come on such an errand. They demanded to be let into the cellar, and one fellow threatened me with the burning of the house if I did not give them just what they demanded. I said, “Yes, we are at your mercy — burn it down — but I won't give you the key.” They then demanded arms; we got the old shot guns and gave them; these they broke up, and left parts of them in the yard; broke into the cellar; carried off a firkin of lard hidden there; a keg of molasses, and whatever they could find; but did not get the bacon. They asked me if we had no more than this: I answered “Yes, but it is in the mountains.” Sent to Gen. Crooke for a guard. At last they pressed into the house, and two began to search my dressing room. What they took I don't know. They seized our breakfast, and even snatched the toasted bread and egg that had been begged for the sick man's breakfast. My children were crying for something to eat; I had nothing to give them but crackers. They set fire to the Institute about nine o'clock; the flames are now enveloping it; the towers have fallen; the arsenal is exploding as I write. Governor Letcher's house has been burned down, and they told me that all the V. M. I. professors' houses were to be burned, Col. Preston's among them. At last old Dr. McClung came, and Phoebe asked him to go to Averill's Head Quarters with her (Averill has his Head Quarters in Dr. White's yard); she went; did not see the General, but found a young man there (from Philadelphia!) who came back with her and ordered the men off. By and by an officer came, and asked for me; told me he had heard we were annoyed; said he was mortified, and would send a guard, though he had no authority to do so.  . . . Let me note here, and I do it with chagrin and shame, that the only really civil men have been those from Western Virginia and these two Philadelphians. Invariably those from Virginia were polite; one offered silver for some bread; I had nothing but crackers, which I gave him, remarking that he was on the wrong side for a Virginian. He looked decidedly ashamed.

It was twelve o'clock before we could get any breakfast. They carried off the coffee pot and every thing they could lay their hands on, and while the guard, a boy of 17, was walking around the house, emptied the corn-crib. I asked Dr. P. to take the library for his medical stores, which he agreed to do; he was really polite. We asked him if they were going to burn our house; he said “not if it is private property.” Gen. Hunter has ordered the burning of all the V. M. I. professors' houses. Mrs. Smith plead for hers to be spared, on account of her daughter, who lies there desperately ill; that alone saved it. Hunter has his Head Quarters in it. This has been an awful day, and it may be worse before night. One cavalryman told me that if they all talked as I did, they would fire the entire town.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 189-91

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Saturday Morning, June 11, 1864

Last night all our alarm was again aroused by a courier arriving with the news that the enemy had turned suddenly back, and were in full force at Brownsburg, and that McCausland was retreating with his 1400 men before him. This was soon confirmed by the arrival of brother Eben and Mr. W. again fleeing. The enemy's column entered Brownsburg as they left; they stayed long enough to hear the musketry of the skirmishers; this return was so sudden that they had barely time to escape. Some of the Institute professors were here to tea; all had to depart at once, when Mr. P. came in saying that he had just read a dispatch from McC. saying that he would be here in two hours, and that the enemy was at Cedar Grove, eight miles from this. Sure enough, in less than two hours, McC's men were at Cameron's farm. Mr. P. and two of the officers rode out to see McC. — did not get back till three in the morning; we sitting up till then. Indeed we did not go to bed at all; only threw ourselves down for an hour or so. The cadets have been under arms all night; have not yet moved. Resistance was at first spoken of; but there are only three of the Institute cannon brought back, and McC. has found to his cost that it is in vain to offer opposition with such a mere handful as could be brought together, to the ten thousand who are approaching. So certain did we feel yesterday that the danger was for the time over, that Mr. P. had his stock all brought back from the mountains, and I had “unhid” as George says, our silver. At once Uncle Young [a trusted servant] was dispatched with the carriage horses to Overseer Clark, and he was ordered to proceed at daylight to the mountains. A courier came in at ten o'clock P. M. saying that another force was advancing by way of Kerr's Creek; whereupon E. and the gentlemen from Brownsburg, one a wounded Lt., mounted and decamped. If the enemy advances on Lexington this morning, McC. will most probably burn our bridge, and retreat, the Cadets with him, on the Lynchburg road. Mr. P. goes with the Cadets. They only arrived from Richmond night before last.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 187-8

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Saturday Evening, June 11, 1864

Our fears have all been realized: the enemy is upon us, and is in pursuit of McCausland, who left the town about an hour before they entered. About ten o'clock this morning, McC. burned the bridge as the enemy approached it; he then began to fire upon them. We have been shelled in reply all day; one shell exploded in our orchard, a few yards beyond us, — our house being just in their range as they threw them at the retreating Confederates. The Cadets, my husband among them, remained on the Institute hill, till the shot and shell fell so thick that it was dangerous; the Cadets then retreated, and are several hours ahead; but they are infantry, and this is a cavalry force altogether. Mr. P. is just two hours ahead of them. The people from the lower part of the town fled from their dwellings, and our house was filled with women and children. Just in the midst of the thickest shelling, the poor wounded boy from the Institute hospital was carried here, surrounded by a guard of cadets. He has borne the removal very well. I have distributed some of J.'s blackberry-wine, which I have always forborne to open, among the frightened and almost fainting ladies. About four o'clock the head of the Yankee column came in sight. I went out and watched them approach; saw six of our pickets run ahead of them some ten minutes. One of them dropped his gun near our door. For two hours there was one continuous stream of cavalry, riding at a fast trot, and several abreast, passing out at the top of town. Then the infantry began to pour in: these remained behind, and with cavalry who came in after, flooded the town. They began to pour into our yard and kitchen. I ordered them out of the kitchen, half a dozen at a time, and hesitated not to speak in the most firm and commanding tone to them. At first they were content to receive bacon, two slices apiece; but they soon became insolent; demanded the smokehouse key, and told me they would break the door unless I opened it. I protested against their pillage, and with a score of them surrounding me, with guns in their hands, proceeded to the smokehouse and threw it open, entreating them at the same time, by the respect they had for their wives, mothers, and sisters, to leave me a little meat. They heeded me no more than wild beasts would have done; swore at me; and left me not one piece. Some rushed down the cellar steps, seized the newly churned butter there, and made off. I succeeded in keeping them out of the house. We have had no dinner; managed to procure a little supper; we have nailed up all the windows. I wrote a polite note to Gen. Averill, asking for a guard; none was sent. At ten we went to bed, feeling that we had nothing between these ravagers and us but God's protecting arm.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 188-9

Saturday, June 13, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 9, 1864

Part of Crooke's command came as far as Brownsburg (they were four miles from E.'s house), and there they turned around and went back to Staunton, we hear. All this seems very inconsistent; why should they come up the Valley Road this far, and wheel round with nothing before them but McC.'s and J.'s little remnants of regiments? It is quite mysterious, for it seems to have accomplished nothing.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 186-7

Friday, June 12, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 8, 1864

I must continue to make some notes, as I have opportunity.  . . . Listened all night for the knock of the courier who was to return to Mr. P. bringing tidings from McCausland; but he did not come till morning. McC. says he will dispute the whole way with the enemy.  . . . A cadet, who will probably die, is to be removed to our house from the V. M. I. hospital this morning. I am about to have the library carpet lifted, and the room prepared for him; he is too ill to be taken upstairs. Mr. P.'s overseer was to drive the cattle off from the farm at daylight. We wait the unfolding of events. I would that my father and J. knew the situation in which I find myself to-day. I wonder if they wouldn't pray for the defeat of those who are coming against us! Mr. P. talks of going to join McC. He can't stay here; but with McC. he could only go into the ranks, and he holds a Lt. Col.'s commission. I pray he may not go; for what can that handful of men do? They may harass a little, but are too small a force to make a stand, without the prospect of being cut to pieces.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 186

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday, June 7, 1864 – Second Entry

A courier has brought in the intelligence that Averill's force is at Jordan's Furnace, between 20 and 30 miles from this, and advancing this way. That the force engaged with Jones was not Averill's: probably Crooke's. People are more certain to-day of "the Yankees coming" than they have been at all yet, because there is not a soldier between them and us, and if they chose to ride into Lexington to-night, there is not a thing to hinder them, all the Confederates having passed on to Staunton or its neighborhood. Mr. P. is as busy as he can be, getting things at the V. M. I. moved away. The library has been carried to the College. As the Institute is Government property, they will most likely burn it; that, at all events, is what we apprehend. We have hidden our own valuables to some extent; and Mr. P. is having his bacon hauled into the mountains. Yet the enemy may not come; we have expected them so often when they didn't come, that we may be delivered again. Gen. Elzey has passed on to Lynchburg to-day.

Later: At half past four o'clock we went to the daily prayer-meeting. Dr. White gave us what information he had been able to collect; told us that the enemy was certainly on his way hither; but inculcated calm reliance upon God; said the force advancing would not reach us today; and appointed the meeting for to-morrow, saying that we should come, unless it was dangerous for ladies to be upon the street. As we went from the Lecture Room, three couriers rode up, and the street was crowded from one pavement to the other. We found that Imboden, Jackson, and McCausland are all with their small forces falling back; that the enemy took possession of Staunton yesterday at one o'clock; burnt a large factory and the railroad Depot; and it is said the Virginia Hotel; and were advancing this way. All was such commotion as I have never seen in Lexington; people moving flour, goods, &c.; driving out their cow ; ladies flying about in a high state of excitement. A little while after I reached home, in came E. and Mr. W. from Brownsburg, fugitives from the enemy. E.'s carriage was broken, so he could not bring his wife and children to us; but he took them and the servants over to Mrs. W.'s; moved out his bacon, and what flour he had, shut up his house, and left it to its fate. At his church on Sunday, a courier arrived, and demanded in the name of Gen. McC. that the citizens should turn out en masse and blockade two of the mountain passes. E. went with them; spent all Sunday night cutting down trees, and was near enough to Crooke's camp to hear the band; almost to distinguish the tunes; heard ten reveilles, which would indicate ten regiments; saw the camp fires. When he left home, McC. had passed his house coming this way; the enemy was several miles above Brownsburg. Agnes is pretty brave; she was willing to be left alone in the house, the only white person, with her little children. All her anxiety was to get E. off. I was busy until ten o'clock getting off our bacon and flour, which E. tells me the enemy is taking all along the route.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 184-6

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday, June 7, 1864 - First Entry

This has been one of the most exciting days we have ever had here. At half past six we gave the soldiers breakfast, and filled their haversacks. But at breakfast we heard of Gen. Elzey's arrival in town, and of the burning of the woollen factory of which Mr. P. is part owner, at Port Republic. After breakfast, we all went down street, to see the passage of the troops, 1700 men; G.'s company among them. Poor fellows! It was melancholy to see them with the bouquets with which the ladies had saluted them, in their hands. Such a mockery in the fresh, brilliant-looking flowers, and their soiled, jaded appearance. I knew they were marching to meet the enemy, and must be brought into action at once, and I could not but know that many of them would soon lie down in death. A courier arrived, as they came through the place, with news of an engagement a few miles from Staunton, in which Gen. Jones was killed. He had just reached the place — had only a small portion of his command with him, but he collected parts of some scattered commands, and attempted to withstand the enemy. His own troops fought bravely, but the others ran shamefully: Jones threw himself into the thickest of the fight to rally them, and fell dead. It is a great loss; he was esteemed a fine officer; was an attached friend of Gen. Jackson.

All has been wild excitement this afternoon. Stages and wagons loaded with negroes poured in from Staunton. Everybody was in alarm. In the midst of it, after hearing that the enemy was in possession of Waynesboro and Staunton both, we went to the daily prayer meeting. There Dr. White calmed the people by a succinct statement of facts, so far as it was possible to obtain them. . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 183-4

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 6, 1864

No sooner is one alarm over than another comes. Mr. P. took me down to the hospital this morning, to see some wounded cadets, one of whom was wounded in seven places, and will probably die. As we returned, and were stopping at Mr. Sam Moore's, to see a V. M. I. professor who had a piece of his skull grooved out by a minnie ball, we were startled by the news that the enemy were at Milboro'. We reached the church just as the services were closing, so did not go in. Found that Gen. W. E. Jones's command was approaching the town, only two miles out. At dusk, in walked Capt. George Junkin and another officer; they belong to Jones' division, and have left their companies five miles out, to come in and pass the night with us. We were just about to have our bread and milk supper handed; but of course more substantial fare had to be prepared for tired soldiers; so we all had real coffee, biscuits, and bacon; a royal repast for these times. . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 182-3

Monday, June 8, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 4, 1864

Such a blessed deliverance! Mr. P. was all ready to start out with the scouting party — his horse saddled — to start in an hour, when a messenger came in with the tidings that J. had had a sharp skirmish with an advance party of Averill, and on McCausland's coming up with 4 regiments, they retreated. McCausland is now between us and the enemy. General Jones is coming on from Salem; so we feel respited.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 182

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 3, 1864

All was quietness with us yesterday; today we are all in excitement and alarm. A courier has come in with news that the enemy is this side of Covington (40 miles off), and is advancing, and no force that we know of between us and them. General J. is somewhere out there. Again we hear that the Yankees are 17 miles from Staunton; so that we are between two fires. People are busy packing up silver and valuables; negroes are coming in from west of us; and all is distraction. The few men here are going out to-night to join J. if they can find him. They are more likely to be taken prisoners, it seems to me. Mr. P. is not well; has had fever every day since his return home; yet he goes out to-night, and will be in the saddle all night. He is making arrangements to have our bacon and flour hidden away, and his stock driven over the mountain. My heart sinks within me. Are we to experience what so many others have suffered? God deliver us! Let our help be in Thee!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 182