Back in town again.
I've done something but havn't the least idea what, to displease somebody and
havn't the least idea who. Perhaps some one of my friends here, will, after a
day or so find the important secret too burdensome to keep alone, and will
share it with me.
Just think what it
is, Hallicarnassus, to go abroad and see the world-and feel it too, for that
matter.
But in order to
think as little as possible of that terrible crime of which I've been guilty,
before finding out what it is, am going to hunt up enough work to keep my head
and hands busy in the hospitals about town.
Glad to meet my
travelling companion, Miss O., again. She has remained at this home of the
Christian Commission, engaged in the preparation of delicacies, which are taken
out to hospitals, or barracks, as needed.
This building, to
which we came upon our arrival, is a spacious three story brick, at No. 14
Spruce Street. It was deserted by a rebel banker just before our forces entered
Nashville, who took nothing south, except his gold and silver. A man from New
York, whose conscience permitted him to take the oath of allegiance, removed
and stored up against the return of his rebel friend, the silver and glass
service, curtains, works of art, &c., but left much fine furniture, such as
massive sofa bedsteads, marble-topped stands, tables, bureaux, a well-filled
book-case, writing table and piano.
In Secretary
Stanton's own handwriting, we saw permission given to occupy this building
till the close of the war, to Mrs. H., of the Philadelphia Ladies' Aid Society,
"together with other ladies who might be associated with her, in any
benevolent enterprise having for its object the relief of invalid Union
soldiers."
She is confident he
meant benevolent gentlemen, also, so one half of the house is given up to the
Rev. E. P. Smith and family, who make a home for the delegates of the Christian
Commission.
Thus are many of the
private as well as public buildings reduced from their lofty position of
serving southern chivalry, to the vile misuse of northern mudsills. "Oh,
Babylon how art thou fallen!" must be the lamentation of the Nashvillians,
as they see the desecration of their beautiful edifices by northern vandals.
"Oh! the
citizens here would tear us to pieces very quick," said Mrs. Smith, the
eve of our arrival, "were it not for the 'blue coats' about. Our
dependence is in those and the guns of Fort Negley."
Evening.
Visited the Refugee
Home again, this P. M. Saw some of those mentioned in a previous date. As I
entered one room, a woman was bustling about in a great passion, and picking up
a few personal rags, while ordering her son to get up and they would find a
place to stay where she shouldn't be "set to do niggar's work!"
She was a healthy,
strong woman, and had been repeatedly requested to make her own and son's bed,
and assist in sweeping or cooking for the numerous inmates. Indeed, I think she
had received a gentle hint that it might be as well to see that her son and
herself had clean linen as often as once in two or three weeks, and that the
use of a comb occasionally would not detract from their personal
appearance. But she had her own peculiar ideas, obtained from living under the
domination of a peculiar institution, and didn't fancy being dictated to in the
delicate matter of her personelle.
Upon entering what
is called the lecture-room we saw several families and parts of families, which
had within two hours arrived on the trains from Alabama or Georgia.
I found that some of
these snuff-dipping, clay-colored, greasy and uncombed ladies "from Alabam
and Gorgee," are as expert marksmen as any of our northern exquisites, as
they deposit the "terbaker" juice most beautifully into and around
any knot-hole or crack in the floor, and while they are at the distance of
several feet. Its wonderful how they do it am afraid I should never be able to
learn.
We approach one
woman who is standing by a rough board bunk, upon and around which are several
children overcome by the fatigue of travelling. She, unlike the generality, is
neatly dressed in a clean dark calico and sunbonnet, and wears a cheerful and
intelligent look. She informs us that these are all her children—six of them,
that her husband is in the Union army, only a few miles out, that he had sent
for her to come here, and she expects to see him in a few days. She cannot
write, for she hasn't been to school a day in her life, and she says:
"An' that
thar's suthin' you people hev' up north, thet we don't. Poor folks thar, hev' a
chance to give thar children some larnin'; but them as owns plantations down
our way, don't give poor folks no chance. Larnin's only for rich folks. But my
children shan't grow up to not know no more nor thar father nor thar mother, ef
I kin' help it. Ef this war don't close so's to make it better for poor folks
down har, we'll go north. Thar's a woman what kin' write," she adds with
an admiring glance to the other side of the room, "an' she's writin' a
letter for me to my husband."
We glance that way,
and see a youngish woman, whose entire clothing evidently consists of one garment,
a dress which is colored with some kind of bark. She sits in conscious
superiority, scarcely deigning to notice us, as we approach, while she is
carefully managing the writing with one eye, while her head is turned half way
from it, so that the ashes or coal, from the long pipe between her lips, may
not fall upon the paper. Her air and manner are evidently intended to be regal,
for isn't she the woman "what kin' write?" At a little
distance sat a hale, broad-shouldered, stalwart man, who looked as if he were
able to do the work of half a dozen common men, who inquired of us, where
"Hio was-if 'twas in Illinois"—and whether if he went to either of
those places he would be "pressed into the service." In reply, we
informed the gentleman that "Ohio was not in Illinois,
but that if he went to either, he would probably have to stand his chance of
being drafted, together with other good loyalists with
the physicians, lawyers, editors, and ministers. He did not reply to that, but
his looks spoke eloquently,
"For a lodge in some vast wilderness,-
Some boundless contiguity of shade"
Where war and draft come not.
Miss Ada M., the
Matron of the Refugee Home, was, in our room this eve, and said that she was
yesterday preparing some sewing for some young Misses, who were conversing
earnestly about the Yankees. Finding their ideas rather erroneous with regard
to that class of people, she made a remark to the effect that she was one
herself.
"Why, you 'aint
a Yankee?" exclaimed a Miss of fifteen dropping her work in blank
astonishment. "Yes, indeed, I am," was the reply.
"Why,"
said the girl, with remarkably large eyes, "I've allays hearn tell
that the Yankees has horns, and one eye in the middle of their foreheads!"
SOURCE: Elvira J.
Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General
Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron
and Visitor, pp. 54-8
