Isabella and I put on bonnets and shawls and went
deliberately out for news. We determined to seek until we found. Met a man who
was so ugly, I could not forget him or his sobriquet; he was awfully in love
with me once. He did not know me, but blushed hotly when Isabella told him who
I was. He had forgotten me, I hope, or else I am changed by age and care past
all recognition. He gave us the encouraging information that Grahamville had
been burned to the ground.
When the call for horses was made, Mrs. McCord sent in her
fine bays. She comes now with a pair of mules, and looks too long and
significantly at my ponies. If I were not so much afraid of her, I would hint
that those mules would be of far more use in camp than my ponies. But they will
seize the ponies, no doubt.
In all my life before, the stables were far off from the
house and I had nothing to do with them. Now my ponies are kept under an open
shed next to the back piazza. Here I sit with my work, or my desk, or my book,
basking in our Southern sun, and I watch Nat feed, curry, and rub down the
horses, and then he cleans their stables as thoroughly as Smith does my
drawing-room. I see their beds of straw comfortably laid. Nat says, “Ow,
Missis, ain't lady's business to look so much in de stables.” I care nothing
for his grumbling, and I have never had horses in better condition. Poor
ponies, you deserve every attention, and enough to eat. Grass does not grow
under your feet. By night and day you are on the trot.
To-day General Chesnut was in Charleston on his way from
Augusta to Savannah by rail. The telegraph is still working between Charleston
and Savannah. Grahamville certainly is burned. There was fighting down there
to-day. I came home with enough to think about, Heaven knows! And then all day
long we compounded a pound cake in honor of Mrs. Cuthbert, who has things so
nice at home. The cake was a success, but was it worth all that trouble?
As my party were driving off to the concert, an omnibus
rattled up. Enter Captain Leland, of General Chesnut's staff, of as imposing a
presence as a field-marshal, handsome and gray-haired. He was here on some
military errand and brought me a letter. He said the Yankees had been repulsed,
and that down in those swamps we could give a good account of ourselves if our
government would send men enough. With a sufficient army to meet them down “there,
they could be annihilated.” “Where are the men to come from?” asked Mamie,
wildly. “General Hood has gone off to Tennessee. Even if he does defeat Thomas
there, what difference would that make here?”
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 336-7
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