Another odd link of the old, stale story has come to me, all
the way from New York. A friend of mine, who went on the same boat with the
prisoners, wrote to her mother to tell her that she had formed the acquaintance
of the most charming, fascinating gentleman among them, no other than my once
friend. Of course, she would have been less than a woman if she had not
gossiped when she discovered who he was. So she sends me word that he told her
he had been made to believe, as long as he was on parole in New Orleans, that
we were all Unionists now, and that Brother would not allow a Confederate to
enter the house. (O my little lisper, was I unjust to you?) He told her that I
had been very kind to him when he was in prison, and he would have forgotten
the rest and gladly have called to thank me in person for the kindness he so
gratefully remembered, if I alone had been concerned; but he felt he could not
force himself unasked into my
brother's house. . . .
She told him how false it was.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 421-2
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