We three girls fancied a walk last evening, and immediately
after dinner prepared to walk to Mrs. Breaux's, only a mile, and get her to
come to the sugar-house. But as we put on our bonnets, Captain Bradford,
brother of the one who left in the morning, was announced, and our expedition
had to be abandoned. This is the third of the five brothers that I have met,
and if it were not for the peculiarity in their voices, I should say that there
was not the most distant relationship existing between them. This one is very
handsome, quiet, and what Dickens calls “in a high-shouldered state of
deportment.” He looks like a moss-covered stone wall, a slumbering volcano, a —
what you please, so it suggests anything unexpected and dangerous to stumble
over. A man of indomitable will and intense feeling, I am sure. I should not
like to rouse his temper, or give him cause to hate me. A trip to the
sugarhouse followed, as a matter of course, and we showed him around, and told
him of the fun we had those two nights, and taught him how to use a paddle like
a Christian. We remained there until supper-time, when we adjourned to the
house, where we spent the remainder of the evening very pleasantly. At least I
suppose he found it so, for it was ten o'clock before he left.
* * * *
* * * * * *
Just now I was startled by a pistol shot. Threatening to
shoot her, Mr. Carter playfully aimed Miriam's pistol at her, and before he
could take fair aim, one barrel went off, the shot grazing her arm and passing
through the armoir just behind. Of course, there was great consternation. Those
two seem doomed to kill each other. She had played him the same trick before.
He swore that he would have killed himself with the other shot if she had been
hurt; but what good would that do her?
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 275-6
No comments:
Post a Comment