The hope I expressed in my last line on Saturday night was
delusive. About one o'clock I was awakened by E. leaning over me, and saying in
a low, tremulous tone, "Mother, get up, the Yankees are come." We
sprang up, and there they were at the telegraph office, immediately opposite.
In an instant the door was broken down with a crash, and the battery and other
things thrown out. Axes were at work cutting down the telegraph-poles, while
busy hands were tearing up the railroad. A sentinel sat on his horse at our
gate as motionless as if both man and horse had been cut from a block of Yankee
granite. We expected every moment that they would come to the house, or at
least go into the hotel opposite to us; but they went off to the depot. There
was a dead silence, except an occasional order, "Be quick,"
"Keep a sharp look-out," etc., etc. The night was moonlight, but we
dressed ourselves and sat in the dark; we were afraid to open the window-shutters
or to light a lamp, lest they might be attracted to the house. We remained in
this way perhaps two hours, when the flames suddenly burst from the depot. All
parts of the building seemed to be burning at once; also immense piles of wood
and of plank. The conflagration was brilliant. As soon as the whole was fairly
blazing the pickets were called in, and the whole party dashed off, with
demoniac yells. Soon after, as the dawn began to break upon us, doors were
thrown open, and the villagers began to sally forth to the fire. In a short
time all of us were there, from every house — even the babies; and as it became
daylight, an amusing group was revealed. Every one had dressed in the dark, and
all manner of costumes were to be seen — dressing-gowns, cravatless old
gentlemen, young ladies in curl-papers, collars pinned awry, etc. Some ladies
presented themselves in full costume — handsome dresses, lace collars,
ear-rings and breastpins, watches, etc. — giving as a reason, that, if they
were burnt out, they would at least save their best clothes — forgetting, the
while, that a Yankee soldier has an irresistible penchant for watches
and other jewelry. Some of us were more cautious, and had put all our valuables
in unapproachable pockets — the pockets to a lady's dress not having
proved on all occasions a place of safety. The loss to the railroad company
will be considerable; to the public very small, for they are already replacing
the broken rails, and the telegraph was put in operation yesterday.
The morning papers give the Northern account of a battle in
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It gives the victory to the Federals, though it admits
a very heavy loss on their side; announces the loss of Major-General Reynolds
and Brigadier-General Paul by death. We pause for the truth.
SOURCE: McGuire, Judith W., Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 227-8
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