Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 26, 1864

A very cold morning. Elbert [the negro coachman] has to go to mill this morning, and I shall go with him, fearing that, if he is alone, my mule may be taken from him, for there are still many straggling soldiers about. Mounted in the little wagon, I went, carrying wheat not only for myself, but for my neighbors. Never did I think I would have to go to mill! Such are the changes that come to us! History tells us of some illustrious examples of this kind. Got home just at night.

Mr. Kennedy stopped all night with us. He has been refugeeing on his way home. Every one we meet gives us painful accounts of the desolation caused by the enemy. Each one has to tell his or her own experience, and fellow-suffering makes us all equal and makes us all feel interested in one another.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 40-1

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 18, 1864

Slept very little last night. Went out doors several times and could see large fires like burning buildings. Am I not in the hands of a merciful God who has promised to take care of the widow and orphan?

Sent off two of my mules in the night. Mr. Ward and Frank [a slave] took them away and hid them. In the morning took a barrel of salt, which had cost me two hundred dollars, into one of the black women's gardens, put a paper over it, and then on the top of that leached ashes. Fixed it on a board as a leach tub, daubing it with ashes [the old-fashioned way of making lye for soap]. Had some few pieces of meat taken from my smoke-house carried to the Old Place [a distant part of the plantation] and hidden under some fodder. Bid them hide the wagon and gear and then go on plowing. Went to packing up mine and Sadai's clothes.

I fear that we shall be homeless.

The boys came back and wished to hide their mules. They say that the Yankees camped at Mr. Gibson's last night and are taking all the stock in the county. Seeing them so eager, I told them to do as they pleased. They took them off, and Elbert [the black coachman] took his forty fattening hogs to the Old Place Swamp and turned them in.

We have done nothing all day — that is, my people have not. I made a pair of pants for Jack [a slave]. Sent Nute [a slave] up to Mrs. Perry's on an errand. On his way back, he said, two Yankees met him and begged him to go with them. They asked if we had livestock, and came up the road as far as Mrs. Laura Perry's. I sat for an hour expecting them, but they must have gone back. Oh, how I trust I am safe! Mr. Ward is very much alarmed.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 17-20

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: July 28, 1864

I rose early and had the boys plow the turnip-patch. We were just rising from breakfast when Ben Glass rode up with the cry: “The Yankees are coming. Mrs. Burge, hide your mules!” How we were startled and how we hurried the Major to his room! [The Yankees did not come that day, but it was thought best to send Major Ansley away. He left at 2 A. M.]

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 8-9

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: September 20, 1864

Great excitement and talk among our boys over Sheridan's great victory. It is now our gallant Phil Sheridan who is master of the Shenandoah Valley. Early has run up against a good soldier who has the men at his command. Too small a force has been in the valley for the past three years. Sheridan has a good cavalry corps, just what is needed here. We cheer and sing for our gallant Phil Sheridan. Keep a good watch for the large number of wagons, horses, and mules parked at this point. That's our duty, to care for them.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 126

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: July 22, 1864

[The day of the battle of Atlanta]

We have heard the loud booming of cannon all day. Mr. Ward [the overseer] went over to the burial of Thomas Harwell, whose death I witnessed yesterday. They had but just gone when the Rev. A. Turner, wife, and daughter drove up with their wagons, desiring to rest awhile. They went into the ell [a large back room] and lay down, I following them, wishing to enjoy their company. Suddenly I saw the servants running to the palings, and I walked to the door, when I saw such a stampede as I never witnessed before. The road was full of carriages, wagons, men on horseback, all riding at full speed. Judge Floyd stopped, saying: “Mrs. Burge, the Yankees are coming. They have got my family, and here is all I have upon earth. Hide your mules and carriages and whatever valuables you have.”

Sadai [Mrs. Surge's nine-year-old daughter] said:

“Oh, Mama, what shall we do?”

“Never mind, Sadai,” I said. “They won't hurt you, and you must help me hide my things.”

I went to the smoke-house, divided out the meat to the servants, and bid them hide it. Julia [a slave] took a jar of lard and buried it. In the meantime Sadai was taking down and picking up our clothes, which she was giving to the servants to hide in their cabins; silk dresses, challis, muslins, and merinos, linens, and hosiery, all found their way into the chests of the women and under their beds; china and silver were buried underground, and Sadai bid Mary [a slave] hide a bit of soap under some bricks, that mama might have a little left. Then she came to me with a part of a loaf of bread, asking if she had not better put it in her pocket, that we might have something to eat that night. And, verily, we had cause to fear that we might be homeless, for on every side we could see smoke arising from burning buildings and bridges.

Major Ansley, who was wounded in the hip in the battle of Missionary Ridge, and has not recovered, came with his wife, sister, two little ones, and servants. He was traveling in a bed in a small wagon. They had thought to get to Eatonton, but he was so wearied that they stopped with me for the night. I am glad to have them. I shall sleep none to-night. The woods are full of refugees.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 4-6

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Monday, April 27, 1863

Colonel Bankhead has given me letters of introduction to General Bragg, to General Leonidas Polk, and several others.

At 2 P.M. I called on Mrs Bankhead to say good-bye. She told me that her husband had two brothers in the Northern service — one in the army and the other in the navy. The two army brothers were both in the battles of Shiloh and Perryville, on opposite sides. The naval Bankhead commanded the Monitor when she sank.

——— introduced me to a German militia General in a beer-house this afternoon. These two had a slight dispute, as the latter spoke strongly in disapproval of “secret or night lynching.”

The recent escapade of Captain Peñaloso seems to have been much condemned in San Antonio. This individual (formerly a butcher) hanged one of his soldiers a short time ago, on his own responsibility, for desertion and stealing a musket. This event came off at 12 o'clock noon, in the principal plaça of the city. The tree has been cut down, to show the feelings of the citizens.

There can be no doubt that the enforcement of the conscription has, as a general rule, been extremely easy throughout the Confederacy (except among the Germans); but I hear of many persons evading it, by getting into some sort of government employment — such as contractors, agents, or teamsters to the Rio Grande. To my extreme regret I took leave of my friend M'Carthy this evening, whose hospitality and kindness I shall never forget.

I left San Antonio by stage for Alleyton at 9 P.M. The stage was an old coach, into the interior of which nine persons were crammed on three transverse seats, besides many others on the roof. I was placed on the centre seat, which was extremely narrow, and I had nothing but a strap to support my back. An enormously fat German was my vis-à-vis, and a long-legged Confederate officer was in my rear.

Our first team consisted of four mules; we afterwards got horses.

My fellow-travellers were all either military men, or connected with the Government.

Only five out of nine chewed tobacco during the night; but they aimed at the windows with great accuracy, and didn't splash me. The amount of sleep I got, however, was naturally very trifling.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 53-5

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Friday, April 24, 1863

We made a start at 4.15 A.M., and with the assistance of M'Carthy, we managed to lose our way; but at 6.15 a loud cheer from the box, of “Hoorraw for h—ll! who's afraid of fire?” proclaimed that Mr Sargent had come in sight of Grey's ranch.

After buying some eggs and Indian corn there, we crossed the deep bed of the river San Antonio. Its banks are very steep and picturesque.

We halted immediately beyond, to allow the mules to feed for an hour. A woman was murdered at a ranch close by some time ago, and five bad characters were put to death at San Antonio by the vigilance committee on suspicion.

We crossed the Selado river at 11, and nooned it in its neighbourhood.

Mr Sargent and the Judge finished the gin; and the former, being rather drunk, entertained us with a detailed description of his treatment of a refractory negro girl, which, by his own account, must have been very severe. M'Carthy was much disgusted at the story.*

After bathing in the Selado, Mr Sargent, being determined to beat Ward, pushed on for San Antonio; and we drew up before Menger's hotel at 3 P.M., our mules dead beat — our driver having fulfilled his promise of “making his long-eared horses howl.”

Later in the day I walked through the streets with M'Carthy to his store, which is a very large building, but now desolate, everything having been sold off. He was of course greeted by his numerous friends, and amongst others I saw a negro come up to him, shake hands, and welcome him back.

I was introduced to Colonel Duffs brother, who is also a very good-looking man; but he has not thrown off his British nationality and become a “citizen.”

The distance from Brownsville to San Antonio is 330 miles, and we have been 11 days and 4 hours en route.

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* However happy and well off the slaves may be as a general rule, yet there must be many instances (like that of Mr Sargent) of illtreatment and cruelty. Mr Sargent is a Northerner by birth, and is without any of the kind feeling which is nearly always felt by Southerners for negroes. — July 1863.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 47-9

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, April 22, 1863

We got under weigh at 5 A.M., the mules looking rather mean for want of grass.

At 8 A.m. we reached the Nueces river, the banks of which are very steep, and are bordered with a beautiful belt of live oak-trees, covered with mustang grapes.

On the other side of the Nueces is “Oakville,” a miserable settlement, consisting of about twenty wooden huts. We bought some butter there, and caught up Ward's waggons. The women at Oakville were most anxious to buy snuff. It appears that the Texan females are in the habit of dipping snuff — which means, putting it into their mouths instead of their noses. They rub it against their teeth with a blunted stick.

We reached grass about 10 A.M., and “nooned it,” the weather being very trying — very sultry, without sun or wind.

We hitched in at 1.15 — Ward's waggons in our front, and a Frenchman's four-horse team in our rear. At 4 P.M. we reached the “Weedy,” a creek which, to our sorrow, was perfectly dry. We drove on till 7 P.M., and halted at some good grass. There being a report of water in the neighbourhood, Mr Sargent, the Judge, Ward, and the Frenchman, started to explore; and when, at length, they did discover a wretched little mud-hole, it appears that a desperate conflict for the water ensued, for the Judge returned to us a mass of mud, and presenting a very crestfallen appearance. Shortly after, Mr Sargent appeared, in such a bad humour that he declined to cook, to eat, to drink, or do anything but swear vehemently.

Deprived by this contretemps of our goat's flesh we had recourse to an old ham and very stale bread.

We met many cotton trains and government waggons to-day, and I think we have progressed about thirty-four miles.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 44-6

A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg: July 3, 1863

H—— was going to headquarters for the requisite pass, and he saw General Pemberton crawling out of a cave, for the shelling has been as hot as ever. He got the pass, but did not act with his usual caution, for the boat he secured was a miserable, leaky one — a mere trough. Leaving Martha in charge, we went to the river, had our trunks put in the boat, and embarked; but the boat became utterly unmanageable, and began to fill with water rapidly. H saw that we could not cross in it and turned to come back; yet in spite of that the pickets at the battery fired on us. H—— raised the white flag he had, yet they fired again, and I gave a cry of horror that none of these dreadful things had wrung from me. I thought H—— was struck. When we landed H—— showed the pass, and said that the officer had told him the battery would be notified we were to cross. The officer apologized and said they were not notified. He furnished a cart to get home, and to-day we are down in the cellar again, shells flying as thick as ever. Provisions so nearly gone, except the hogshead of sugar, that a few more days will bring us to starvation indeed. Martha says rats are hanging dressed in the market for sale with mule meat, — there is nothing else. The officer at the battery told me he had eaten one yesterday. We have tried to leave this Tophet and failed, and if the siege continues I must summon that higher kind of courage — moral bravery — to subdue my fears of possible mutilation.

SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, September 1885, p. 773-4

A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg: July 1, 1863

Some months ago, thinking it might be useful, I obtained from the consul of my birthplace, by sending to another town, a passport for foreign parts. H––– said if we went out to the lines we might be permitted to get through on that. So we packed the trunks, got a carriage, and on the 30th drove out there. General V––– offered us seats in his tent. The rifle-bullets were whizzing so zip, zip from the sharp-shooters on the Federal lines that involuntarily I moved on my chair. He said, “Don't be alarmed; you are out of range. They are firing at our mules yonder.” His horse, tied by the tent door, was quivering all over, the most intense exhibition of fear I'd ever seen in an animal. General V––– sent out a flag of truce to the Federal headquarters, and while we waited wrote on a piece of silk paper a few words. Then he said, “My wife is in Tennessee. If you get through the lines, send her this. They will search you, so I will put it in this toothpick.” He crammed the silk paper into a quill toothpick, and handed it to H–––. It was completely concealed. The flag-of-truce officer came back flushed and angry. “General Grant says no human being shall pass out of Vicksburg; but the lady may feel sure danger will soon be over. Vicksburg will surrender on the 4th.”

“Is that so, general?” inquired H–––.

“Are arrangements for surrender made?”

“We know nothing of the kind. Vicksburg will not surrender.”

“Those were General Grant's exact words, sir,” said the flag-officer. “Of course it is nothing but their brag.”

We went back sadly enough, but to-day H––– says he will cross the river to General Porter's lines and try there; I shall not be disappointed.

SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, September 1885, p. 773

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, May 5, 1865

It is quite warm. We left our bivouac at 3 a. m. and by 6 o'clock had crossed the Roanoke river. It is a fine stream. One of our drivers had an exciting experience in crossing the river last night, over the pontoon bridge. When he reached the middle of the bridge his leading mules became frightened at the cracks between the boards and turned right around, upsetting the whole thing, and the six mules, wagon and all went overboard. When the driver saw what was going to happen, quick as a flash, he dropped down upon the bridge between the wheel mules and the wagon, thus saving himself. The mules and wagon were never seen again, as the Roanoke is very deep. We crossed the State line into old Virginia at 6:30 this morning. At 1 p. m. we crossed the Meherrin river and after marching twenty-six miles for the day went into bivouac. We have fine roads. News came that the two men who killed the president and stabbed Seward had been shot. All is quiet.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 273-4

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: August 20, 1864

A friend from the Valley has described a successful attack made by Mosby on a Federal wagon-train near Berryville. It was on its way to the army near Strasburg, and Mosby was on the other side of the Shenandoah. He crossed in the night with one cannon and about seventy-five men, and at daylight surprised the drivers and guard as they were beginning to hitch their mules, by a salute from the cannon and seventy-five pistols. There was a general stampede in an instant of all who were unhurt. As quick as thought, 600 mules were turned towards the river, and driven to the command in Loudoun. In the mean time, the wagons were set on fire, and most of them and their contents were consumed before the luckless drivers could return to their charge.

It is said that our new steamer, the “Tallahassee,” has been within sixty miles of the city of New York, very much to the terror of the citizens. It also destroyed six large vessels. I bid it God-speed with all my heart; I want the North to feel the war to its core, and then it will end, and not before.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 292

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday Morning, March 15, 1863, Half-past One o’clock A.M.

It has come at last! What an awful sound! I thought I had heard a bombardment before; but Baton Rouge was child's play compared to this. At half-past eleven came the first gun — at least the first I heard, and I hardly think it could have commenced many moments before. Instantly I had my hand on Miriam, and at my first exclamation, Mrs. Badger and Anna answered. All three sprang to their feet to dress, while all four of us prayed aloud. Such an incessant roar! And at every report the house shaking so, and we thinking of our dear soldiers, the dead and dying, and crying aloud for God's blessing on them, and defeat and overthrow to their enemies. That dreadful roar! I can't think fast enough. They are too quick to be counted. We have all been in Mrs. Carter's room, from the last window of which we can see the incessant flash of the guns and the great shooting stars of flame, which must be the hot shot of the enemy. There is a burning house in the distance, the second one we have seen to-night. For Yankees can't prosper unless they are pillaging honest people. Already they have stripped all on their road of cattle, mules, and negroes.

Gathered in a knot within and without the window, we six women up here watched in the faint starlight the flashes from the guns, and silently wondered which of our friends were lying stiff and dead, and then, shuddering at the thought, betook ourselves to silent prayer. I think we know what it is to “wrestle with God in prayer”; we had but one thought. Yet for women, we took it almost too coolly. No tears, no cries, no fear, though for the first five minutes everybody's teeth chattered violently. Mrs. Carter had her husband in Fenner's battery, the hottest place if they are attacked by the land force, and yet to my unspeakable relief she betrayed no more emotion than we who had only friends there. We know absolutely nothing; when does one ever know anything in the country? But we presume that this is an engagement between our batteries and the gunboats attempting to run the blockade.

Firing has slackened considerably. All are to lie down already dressed; but being in my nightgown from necessity, I shall go to sleep, though we may expect at any instant to hear the tramp of Yankee cavalry in the yard.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 337-8

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Saturday, April 18, 1863

At daylight we discovered, to our horror, that three of our mules were absent; but after an hour's search they were brought back in triumph by the Judge.

This delayed our start till 6.30. A.M.

I walked ahead again with the Judge, who explained to me that he was a “senator,” or member of the Upper House of Texas — “just like your House of Lords” he said. He gets $5 a-day whilst sitting, and is elected for four years*

We struck water at 8.30 A.M., and bought a lamb for a dollar. We also bought some beef, which in this country is dried in strips by the sun, after being cut off the bullock, and it keeps good for any length of time. To cook it, the strips are thrown for a few minutes on hot embers.

One of our mules was kicked last night. Mr Sargent rubbed the wound with brandy, which did it much good.

Soon after leaving this well, Mr Sargent discovered that, by following the track of Mr Ward's waggons, he had lost the way. He swore dreadfully, and solaced himself with so much gin, that when we arrived at Sulphur Creek at 12.30, both he and the Judge were, by their own confession, quite tight.

We halted, ate some salt meat, and bathed in this creek, which is about forty yards broad and three feet deep.

Mr Sargent's extreme “tightness” caused him to fall asleep on the box when we started again, but the more seasoned Judge drove the mules.

The signs of getting out of the sands now began to be apparent; and at 5 P.M. we were able to halt at a very decent place with grass, but no water. We suffered here for want of water, our stock being very nearly expended.

Mr Sargent, who was now comparatively sober, killed the sheep most scientifically at 5.30 P.M.; and at 6.30 we were actually devouring it, and found it very good. Mr Sargent cooked it by the simple process of stewing junks of it in a frying-pan, but we had only just enough water to do this.

_______________

* I was afterwards told that the Judge's term of service had expired. El Paso was his district.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 37-9

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, March 25, 1865

We remained in camp all day. Large foraging parties were sent out to get feed for the mules and horses. Our train loaded with supplies returned from Kingston, down on the river. A construction train came in from Kingston, repairing the railroad. The Twenty-third Corps from Schofield's army has been moved to Kingston. All the troops are in camp in and around Goldsboro, and it will be but a short time until all our supplies will be brought in from the coast by the railroad. The Thirteenth Iowa received three hundred recruits today.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 264

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, March 14, 1865

I went out early this morning with the foraging party of our division, in search of feed for the horses and mules. We came to a rich plantation about four miles out, with corncribs well filled, and in a short time we had the wagons loaded. Some of us had been put to loading the wagons while others went to get the chickens and other things. After the boys had caught and loaded all the chickens and upset fully a hundred beehives, they called out, “The rebels are coming!” We had just finished loading the wagons, but that call was enough to frighten the teamsters, and they put the whip to the mules, starting off on a dead run. The road ran through a heavy timber, but it was wide and perfectly level, and they galloped the teams the whole way back to our bivouac. It was every fellow for himself, and I never ran faster in my life. A commissioner from Cornell College¹ was in camp today for the purpose of raising money to educate the orphan children of soldiers and sailors. Our company raised $229.00.

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¹ College at Mt. Vernon, Iowa.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 261

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Tuesday, April 14, 1863

When we roused up at 4 A.M. we found our clothes saturated with the heavy dew; also that, notwithstanding our exertions, the hogs had devoured the greatest part of our pet kid, our only fresh meat.

After feeding our mules upon the Indian corn we had brought with us, and drinking a little more saltwater coffee, the Judge “hitched in,” and we got under way at 5.30 A.M. The country just the same as yesterday — a dead level of sand, mosquite trees, and prickly pears.

At 7.30 A.M. we reached “Leatham's ranch,” and watered our mules. As the water was tolerable, we refilled our water-barrels. I also washed my face, during which operation Mr. Sargent expressed great astonishment, not unmingled with contempt.

At Leatham's we met a wealthy Texan speculator and contractor called Major or Judge Hart.

I find that our Judge is also an M.P., and that, in his capacity as a member of the Texan legislature, he is entitled to be styled the Honourable —— ——.

At 9 A.M. we halted in the middle of a prairie, on which there was a little grass for the mules, and we prepared to eat. In the midst of our cooking, two deer came up quite close to us, and could easily have been killed with rifles.

We saw quantities of rat-ranches, which are big sort of mole-hills, composed of cow-dung, sticks, and earth, built by the rats.

Mr. Sargent, our conductor, is a very rough customer — a fat, middle-aged man, who never opens his mouth without an oath, strictly American in its character. He and the judge are always snarling at one another, and both are much addicted to liquor.

We live principally on bacon and coffee, but as the water and the bacon are both very salt, this is very inconvenient. We have, however, got some claret, and plenty of brandy.

During the mid-day halts Mr. Sargent is in the habit of cooling himself by removing his trousers (or pants), and, having gorged himself, he lies down and issues his edicts to the judge as to the treatment of the mules.

At 2.30 the M.P. hitched in again, and at 2.45 we reached a salt-water arm of the sea called the “Aroyo del Colorado,” about eighty yards broad, which we crossed in a ferry-boat. Half an hour later we “struck water” again, which, being superior to Leatham's, we filled up.

We are continually passing cotton trains going to Brownsville, also government waggons with stores for the interior. Near every well is a small farm or ranch, a miserable little wooden edifice surrounded by a little cultivation. The natives all speak Spanish, and wear the Mexican dress.

M'Carthy is very proud of his knowledge of the country, in spite of which he is often out in his calculations. The different tracks are so similar to one another, they are easily mistaken.

At 4.45 P.M. we halted at a much better place than yesterday. We are obliged to halt where a little grass can be found for our mules.

Soon after we had unpacked for the night, six Texan Rangers, of “Wood's” regiment, rode up to us. They were very picturesque fellows; tall, thin, and ragged, but quite gentlemanlike in their manners.

We are always to sleep in the open until we arrive at San Antonio, and I find my Turkish lantern most useful at night.*

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* A lantern for a candle, made of white linen and wire, which collapses when not in use. They are always used in the streets of Constantinople. The Texans admired it immensely.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 27-9

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Monday, April 13, 1863

I breakfasted with General Bee, and took leave of all my Brownsville friends.

M'Carthy is to give me four times the value of my gold in Confederate notes*

We left Brownsville for San Antonio at 11 A.M. Our vehicle was a roomy, but rather over-loaded, four-wheel carriage, with a canvass roof, and four mules. Besides M'Carthy, there was a third passenger, in the shape of a young merchant of the Hebrew persuasion. Two horses were to join us, to help us through the deep sand.

The country, on leaving Brownsville, is quite flat, the road, a natural one, sandy and very dusty, and there are many small trees, principally mosquites. After we had proceeded seven miles, we halted to water the mules.

At 2 P.M. a new character appeared upon the scene, in the shape of an elderly, rough-faced, dirty-looking man, who rode up, mounted on a sorry nag. To my surprise he was addressed by M’Carthy with the title of “Judge,” and asked what he had done with our other horse. The judge replied that it had already broken down, and had been left behind. M’Carthy informs me that this worthy really is a magistrate or sort of judge in his own district; but he now appears in the capacity of assistant mule-driver, and is to make himself generally useful. I could not help feeling immensely amused at this specimen of a Texan judge. We started again about 3 P.M., and soon emerged from the mosquite bushes into an open prairie eight miles long, quite desolate, and producing nothing but a sort of rush; after which we entered a chaparal, or thick covert of mosquite trees and high prickly pears. These border the track, and are covered with bits of cotton torn from the endless trains of cotton wagons. We met several of these wagons. Generally there were ten oxen or six mules to a wagons carrying ten bales, but in deep sand more animals are necessary. They journey very slowly towards Brownsville, from places in the interior of Texas at least five hundred miles distant. Want of water and other causes make the drivers and animals undergo much hardship.

_______________

* The value of Confederate paper has since decreased. At Charleston I was offered six to one for my gold, and at Richmond eight to one.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 24-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 15, 1865

Lawrence says Miss Chesnut is very proud of the presence of mind and cool self-possession she showed in the face of the enemy. She lost, after all, only two bottles of champagne, two of her brother's gold-headed canes, and her brother's horses, including Claudia, the brood mare, that he valued beyond price, and her own carriage, and a fly-brush boy called Battis, whose occupation in life was to stand behind the table with his peacock feathers and brush the flies away. He was the sole member of his dusky race at Mulberry who deserted “Ole Marster” to follow the Yankees.

Now for our losses at the Hermitage. Added to the gold-headed canes, and Claudia, we lost every mule and horse, and President Davis's beautiful Arabian was captured. John's were there, too. My light dragoon, Johnny, and heavy swell, is stripped light enough for the fight now. Jonathan, whom we trusted, betrayed us; and the plantation and mills, Mulberry house, etc., were saved by Claiborne, that black rascal, who was suspected by all the world. Claiborne boldly affirmed that Mr. Chesnut would not be hurt by destroying his place; the invaders would hurt only the negroes. “Mars Jeems," said he, "hardly ever come here and he takes only a little sompen nur to eat when he do come.'”

Fever continuing, I sent for St. Julien Ravenel. We had a wrangle over the slavery question. Then, he fell foul of everybody who had not conducted this war according to his ideas. Ellen had something nice to offer him (thanks to the ever-bountiful Childs!), but he was too angry, too anxious, too miserable to eat. He pitched into Ellen after he had disposed of me. Ellen stood glaring at him from the fireplace, her blue eye nearly white, her other eye blazing as a comet. Last Sunday, he gave her some Dover's powders for me; directions were written on the paper in which the medicine was wrapped, and he told her to show these to me, then to put what I should give her into a wine-glass and let me drink it. Ellen put it all into the wine-glass and let me drink it at one dose. “It was enough to last you your lifetime,” he said. “It was murder.” Turning to Ellen: “What did you do with the directions?” "I nuwer see no d'rections. You nuwer gimme none.” “I told you to show that paper to your mistress.” “Well, I flung dat ole brown paper in de fire. What you makin' all dis fuss for? Soon as I give Missis de physic, the stop frettin' an' flingin' 'bout, she go to sleep sweet as a suckling baby, an' she slep two days an' nights, an' now she heap better.” And Ellen withdrew from the controversy.

“Well, all is well that ends well, Mrs. Chesnut. You took opium enough to kill several persons. You were worried out and needed rest. You came near getting it — thoroughly. You were in no danger from your disease. But your doctor and your nurse combined were deadly.” Maybe I was saved by the adulteration, the feebleness, of Confederate medicine.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 364-6

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Monday, April 6, 1863

Mr Behnsen and Mr Colville left for Bagdad this morning, in a very swell ambulance drawn by four gay mules.

At noon I crossed to Brownsville, and visited Captain Lynch, a quartermaster, who broke open a great box, and presented me with a Confederate felt hat to travel in. He then took me to the garrison, and introduced me to Colonel Buchel of the 3d Texas Regiment, who is by birth a German, but had served in the French army; and he prepared cocktails in the most scientific manner. I returned to Matamoros at 2.30 P.M.

Captain Hancock and Mr Anderson (the paymaster) arrived from Bagdad in a most miserable vehicle, at 4 P.M. They were a mass of dust, and had been seven hours on the road, after having been very nearly capsized on the bar.

There was a great firing of guns and squibs in the afternoon, in consequence of the news of a total defeat of the French at Puebla, with a loss of 8000 prisoners and 70 pieces of cannon.

Don Pablo, who had innocently hoisted his British flag in honour of Captain Hancock, was accused by his brother merchants of making a demonstration against the French.

After dinner we called on Mr Maloney, whose house is gorgeously furnished, and who has a pretty wife.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 11-12