These people mean to kill us with kindness. There is such a
thing as being too kind. Yesterday General Williams sent a barrel of flour to
mother, accompanied by a note begging her to accept it “in consideration of the
present condition of the circulating currency,” and the intention was so kind,
the way it was done so delicate, that there was no refusing it. I had to write
her thanks, and got in a violent fit of the “trembles” at the idea of writing
to a stranger. One consolation is, that I am not a very big fool, for it took
only three lines to prove myself one. If I had been a thundering big one, I
would have occupied two pages to show myself fully. And to think it is out of
our power to prove them our appreciation of the kindness we have universally
met with! Many officers were in church this morning, and as they passed us
while we waited for the door to be opened, General Williams bowed profoundly,
another followed his example; we returned the salute, of course. But by
to-morrow, those he did not bow to will cry treason against us. Let them howl.
I am tired of lies, scandal, and deceit. All the loudest gossips have been
frightened into the country, but enough remain to keep them well supplied with
town talk. ... It is such a consolation to turn to the dear good people of the
world after coming in contact with such cattle. Here, for instance, is Mr.
Bonnecase on whom we have not the slightest claims. Every day since we have
been here, he has sent a great pitcher of milk, knowing our cow is out; one day
he sent rice, the next sardines, yesterday two bottles of Port and Madeira,
which cannot be purchased in the whole South. What a duck of an old man! That
is only one instance.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 70-1
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