New England's Butler, best known to us as "Beast"
Butler, is famous or infamous now. His
amazing order to his soldiers at New Orleans and comments on it are in
everybody's mouth. We hardly expected from Massachusetts behavior to shame a
Comanche.
One happy moment has come into Mrs. Preston's life. I
watched her face to-day as she read the morning papers. Willie's battery is
lauded to the skies. Every paper gave him a paragraph of praise.
South Carolina was at Beauregard's feet after Fort Sumter. Since
Shiloh, she has gotten up, and looks askance rather when his name is mentioned.
And without Price or Beauregard who takes charge of the Western forces? “Can we
hold out if England and France hold off?” cries Mem. “No, our time has come.”
“For shame, faint heart! Our people are brave, our cause is
just; our spirit and our patient endurance beyond reproach.” Here came in Mary
Cantey's voice: “I may not have any logic, any sense. I give it up. My woman's
instinct tells me, all the same, that slavery's time has come. If we don't end
it, they will.”
After all this, tried to read Uncle Tom, but could not; too
sickening; think of a man sending his little son to beat a human being tied to
a tree. It is as bad as Squeers beating Smike. Flesh and blood revolt; you must
skip that; it is too bad.
Mr. Preston told a story of Joe Johnston as a boy. A party
of boys at Abingdon were out on a spree, more boys than horses; so Joe Johnston
rode behind John Preston, who is his cousin. While going over the mountains
they tried to change horses and got behind a servant who was in charge of them
all. The servant's horse kicked up, threw Joe Johnston, and broke his leg; a
bone showed itself. “Hello, boys! come here and look: the confounded bone has
come clear through,” called out Joe, coolly.
They had to carry him on their shoulders, relieving guard.
As one party grew tired, another took him up. They knew he must suffer
fearfully, but he never said so. He was as cool and quiet after his hurt as
before. He was pretty roughly handled, but they could not help it. His father
was in a towering rage because his son's leg was to be set by a country doctor,
and it might be crooked in the process. At Chickahominy, brave but unlucky Joe
had already eleven wounds.
SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 183-4
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