Having nothing to do, I may as well go on with the history
of our wanderings. When the cars were moving off with the handsome Mr. Howard,
mother turned to a gentleman who seemed to own the place, and asked to be shown
the hotel. He went out, and presently returning with a chair and two negroes,
quietly said he would take us to his own house; the hotel was not comfortable.
And, without listening to remonstrances, led the way to a beautiful little
cottage, where he introduced his wife, Mrs. Cate, who received us most
charmingly, and had me in bed before five minutes had elapsed. I don't know how
any one can believe the whole world so wicked; for my part I have met none but
the kindest people imaginable; I don't know any wicked ones.
Before half an hour had passed, a visitor was announced; so
I gathered up my weary bones, and with scarcely a peep at the glass, walked to
the parlor. I commenced laughing before I got there, and the visitor smiled
most absurdly, too; for it was — Mr. Halsey! It seemed so queer to meet in this
part of the world that we laughed again after shaking hands. It was odd.
I was thinking how much amused the General would be to hear of it; for he had
made a bet that we would meet when I asserted that we would not.
After the first few remarks, he told me of how he had heard
of our arrival. A gentleman had walked into camp, asking if a Mr. Halsey was
there. He signified that he was the gentleman, whereupon the other drew out my
note, saying a young lady on the cars had requested him to deliver it.
Instantly recognizing the chirography, he asked where I was. “Hammond. This is
her name,” replied the other, extending to him my card. Thinking, as he
modestly confessed, that I had intended it only for him, Mr. Halsey coolly put
it into his pocket, and called for his horse. Mr. Howard lingered still,
apparently having something to say, which he found difficult to put in words.
At last, as the other prepared to ride off, with a tremendous effort he managed
to say, “The young lady's card is mine. If it is all the same to you, I should
like to have it returned.” Apologizing for the mistake, Mr. Halsey returned it,
feeling rather foolish, I should imagine, and rode on to the village, leaving,
as he avers, Mr. Howard looking enviously after the lucky dog who was going to
see such a young lady.
He told me something that slightly disgusted me with Captain
Bradford. It was that when he reached the bivouac the next morning after
leaving Linwood, the Captain had put him under arrest for having stayed there
all night. It was too mean, considering that it is more than probable that he
himself remained at Mrs. Fluker's. We discovered, too, that we had missed two
letters Mr. Halsey had written us, which, of course, is a great
disappointment. One, written to both, the other, a short note of ten pages, for
me, which I am sure was worth reading.
It was not until after sunset that we exhausted all topics
of conversation, and Mr. Halsey took his leave, promising to see us in the
morning.
And, to be sure, as soon as I was dressed on Saturday, he
again made his appearance, followed soon after by the carriage. Taking a
cordial leave of Mrs. Cate, with many thanks for her hospitality, we entered
our conveyance, and with Mr. Halsey riding by the side of the carriage, went on
our way. He was to accompany us only as far as Ponchatoula — some six miles; but
the turning-point in his journey seemed to be an undetermined spot; for mile
after mile rolled away — rather the wheels rolled over them — and still he rode
by us, talking through the window, and the sprays of wild flowers he would pick
for me from time to time were growing to quite a bouquet, when he proposed an
exchange with the farmer who was driving us, and, giving him his horse, took
the reins himself.
I think Miriam and I will always remember that ride. The
laughter, the conversation, the songs with the murmuring accompaniment of the
wheels, and a thousand incidents pleasant to remember though foolish to speak
of, will always form a delightful tableau in our recollections. I have but one
disagreeable impression to remember in connection with the trip, and that
occurred at a farmhouse two miles from here, where we stopped to get
strawberries. I preferred remaining in the carriage, to the trouble of getting
out; so all went in, Mr. Halsey dividing his time equally between Miriam in the
house and me in the carriage, supplying me with violets and pensées one moment, and the
next showing me the most tempting strawberries at the most provoking distance,
assuring me they were exquisite. The individual to whom the carriage belonged,
who had given up the reins to Mr. Halsey, and who, no doubt, was respectable
enough for his class in his part of the country, would allow no one to bring me
my straw berries, reserving the honor for himself. Presently he appeared with a
large saucer of them covered with cream. I was naturally thankful, but would
have preferred his returning to the house after he had fulfilled his mission.
Instead, he had the audacity to express his admiration of my personal
appearance; without a pause gave me a short sketch of his history, informed me
he was a widower, and very anxious to marry again, and finally, — Lares
and Penates of the house of Morgan ap Kerrig, veil your affronted brows! You
will scarcely credit that the creature had the insolence to say that — he would
marry me tomorrow, if he could, and think himself blessed; for the jewel of the
soul must be equal to the casket that contained it! Yes! this brute of a man
had the unparalleled audacity to speak to me in such a way! Just then, mother,
remembering her invalid, came to the gallery and asked how I was enjoying my
lunch. “I'm courting her!” cried the wretch. “Glad she did not go in! Swear
she's the prettiest girl I ever saw!” At that moment Mr. Halsey came
sauntering out with a handful of violets for me, and, turning my shoulder to
the creature, I entered into a lively discussion with him, and at last had the
satisfaction of seeing the wretch enter the house.
A drive through the straggling, half-deserted town brought
us here to Mrs. Greyson's, a large, old-fashioned-looking house so close to the
Tchefuncta (I think that is the name of the river) that I could throw a stone
in it from my bed, almost.
Mrs. Greyson herself would require two or three pages to do
her justice. Fancy the daughter of Sir Francis Searle, the widow of General Greyson,
the belle of New Orleans in her young days, settled down into a hotel-keeper on
a small scale, with stately ladies and gentlemen looking down in solemn
surprise at her boarders from their rich portrait frames on the parlor wall!
Fallen greatness always gives me an uncomfortable thrill. Yet here was the
heiress of these shadows on the wall, gay, talkative, bustling, active; with a
word of caution, or a word of advice to all; polite, attentive, agreeable to
her guests, quarreling and exacting with her servants, grasping and avaricious with
all; singing a piece from “Norma” in a voice, about the size of a thread No.
150, that showed traces of former excellence; or cheapening a bushel of corn
meal with equal volubility. What a character! Full of little secrets and
mysteries. “Now, my dear, I don't ask you to tell a story, you know; but
if the others ask you if you knew it, just look surprised and say, ‘Oh, dear
me, when did it happen?’ ‘Cause I promised not to tell; only you are such
favorites that I could not help it, and it would not do to acknowledge it. And
if any one asks you if I put these candles in here, just say you brought them
with you, that's a love, because they will be jealous, as I only allow them
lamps.” Eccentric Mrs. Greyson! Many an hour's amusement did she afford me.1
A ride of twenty-six miles bolt upright in the carriage,
over such bad roads, had almost used me up; I retired to bed in a state of
collapse, leaving Miriam to entertain Mr. Halsey alone. After supper, though, I
managed to put on my prettiest dress, and be carried down to the parlor where I
rejoined the rest. Several strange ladies were present, one of whom has since
afforded me a hearty laugh. She was a horrid looking woman, and ten minutes
after I entered, crossing the room with a most laughable look of vulgarity
attempting to ape righteous scorn, jerked some articles of personal property
from the table and retired with the sweep of a small hurricane. I thought her
an eccentric female; but what was my amazement yesterday to hear that she
sought Mrs. Greyson, told her it was impossible for her to stay among so many
elegantly dressed ladies, and that she preferred keeping her room. Next day,
she told her that she was entirely too attentive to us, and rather than be
neglected in that way for other people, would leave the house, which she did
instantly.
There was a singular assembly of odd characters in the
parlor Saturday night, six of whom looked as though they were but so many
reflections of the same individual in different glasses, and the seventh
differed from the rest only in playing exquisitely on the banjo — “Too well to
be a gentleman,” I fear. These were soldiers, come to “call” on us. Half an hour
after we arrived, a dozen of them took possession of the bench on the bank of
the river, one with his banjo who played and sang delightfully. Old Mrs.
Greyson, who is rather eccentric, called, “Ah, Mr. J–––! Have you heard already
of the arrival of the young ladies? You never serenaded me!” The young man naturally
looked foolish; so she went out and asked him to come around after dark and
play for the young ladies. So after a while he came, “bringing six devils yet
worse than himself,” as the old Scriptural phrase has it, all of whom sat on
the same side of the room, and looked at us steadily when they thought we were
not looking. All had the same voice, the same bow, the same manner — that is to
say none at all of the latter; one introduced an agreeable variety, saying as
he bowed to each separately, “Happy to make your acquaintance, ma'am.” Mr.
Halsey just managed to keep his face straight, while I longed for a Dickens to
put them all together and make one amusing picture out of the seven. I troubled
myself very little about them, preferring Mr. Halsey's company, not knowing
when we would meet again. It would not have been quite fair to leave him to
himself after he had ridden such a distance for us; so I generously left the
seven to Miriam, content with one, and rather think I had the best of the
bargain. The one with the banjo suggested that we should sing for them before
he played for us, so Miriam played on the piano, and sang with me on the guitar
half a dozen songs, and then the other commenced. I don't know when I have been
more amused. There was an odd, piney-woods dash about him that was exceedingly
diverting, and he went through comic, sentimental, and original songs with an
air that showed his whole heart was in it. Judging from the number of youth too
timid to venture in, who peeped at us from the windows, I should say that young
ladies are curiosities just now in Madisonville.
_______________
1 This paragraph, which occurs retrospectively in
the Diary under date of New Orleans, Sunday, May 24th, 1863, is inserted here
for the sake of clearness. — W. D.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 355-63
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