Last evening, after hard labor at pulling molasses candy,
needing some relaxation after our severe exertions, we determined to have some
fun, though the sun was just setting in clouds as watery as New Orleans milk,
and promised an early twilight. All day it had been drizzling, but that was
nothing; so flying hoofs. Once more at Mr. Elder's, we pitched them out without
ceremony, and drove home as fast as possible, trying to fancy what punishment
we would receive for being out so late. Anna Badger, Miriam, and I setoff,
through the mud, to get up the little cart to ride in, followed by cries from
the elder ladies of “Girls! Soap is a dollar and a half a bar! Starch a dollar
a pound! Take up those skirts!” We had all started stiff and clean, and it did
seem a pity to let them drag; so up they went — you can imagine how high when I
tell you my answer to Anna's question as to whether hers were in danger of
touching the mud, was, “Not unless you sit down.” The only animal we could
discover that was not employed was a poor old pony, most appropriately called “Tom
Thumb,” and him we seized instantly, together with a man to harness him. We
accompanied him from the stable to the quarter where the cart was, through mud
and water, urging him on with shouts and cries, and laughing until we could
laugh no longer, at the appearance of each. The cart had been hauling wood, but
that was nothing to us. In we tumbled, and with a driver as diminutive as the
horse, started off for Mr. Elder's, where we picked up all the children to be
found, and went on. All told, we were twelve, drawn by that poor horse, who
seemed at each step about to undergo the ham process, and leave us his hind
quarters, while he escaped with the fore ones and harness. I dare say we never
enjoyed a carriage as much, though each was holding a muddy child. Riding was very
fine; but soon came the question, “How shall we turn?” — which was not so
easily solved, for neither horse nor boy understood it in the least. Every
effort to describe a circle brought us the length of the cart farther up the
road, and we promised fair to reach Bayou Sara before morning, at that rate. At
last, after fruitless efforts to dodge under the harness and escape, pony came
to a standstill, and could not be induced to move. The children took advantage
of the pause to tumble out, but we sat still. Bogged, and it was very dark
already! Wouldn't we get it when we got home! Anna groaned, “Uncle Albert!”
Miriam laughed, “the General!” I sighed, “Mrs. Carter!” We knew what we
deserved; and darker and darker it grew, and pony still inflexible! At last we
beheld a buggy on a road near by and in answer to Morgan's shouts of “Uncle!
Uncle! come turn our cart!” a gentleman jumped out and in an instant performed
the Herculean task. Pony found motion so agreeable that it was with the
greatest difficulty we prevailed on him to stop while we fished seven children
out of the mud, as they pursued his flying hoofs. Once more at Mr. Elder's, we
pitched them out without ceremony, and drove home as fast as possible, trying
to fancy what punishment we would receive for being out so late.
Miriam suggested, as the most horrible one, being sent to
bed supperless; Anna's terror was the General's displeasure; I suggested being
deprived of rides in future; when all agreed that mine was the most severe yet.
So as we drove around the circle, those two set up what was meant for a hearty
laugh to show “they were not afraid,” which, however, sounded rather shaky to
me. I don't think any of us felt like facing the elders; Miriam suggested
anticipating our fate by retiring voluntarily to bed; Anna thought we had best
run up and change our shoes, anyway; but at last, with her dare-devil laugh,
Miriam sauntered into the room, where they all were, followed by us, and
thrusting her wet feet into the fire that was kindled to drive away the damp
(followed also by us), commenced a laughable account of our fun — in which we,
of course, followed, too. If I had fancied we were to escape scot free, we
would most surely have got a scolding. It is almost an inducement to hope
always for the — worst! The General did not mention the hour! did not prohibit
future rides!
While we were yet toasting, a negro came in with what seemed
a bank-note, and asked his master to see how much it was, as one of the women
had sold some of her watermelons to the three soldiers of the morning, who had
given that to her for a dollar. The General opened it. It was a pass! So vanish
all faith in human nature! They looked so honest! I could never have believed
it of them! But it looked so much like the “shinplasters” we are forced to use,
that no wonder they made the mistake. To discover who had played so mean a
trick on the poor old woman, the General asked me if I could decipher the name.
I threw myself on my knees by the hearth, and by the flickering light read “S.
Kimes. By order of C! H!! Luzenberg! !! Provost Marshal! !!! Onolona, Miss.,”
with a gasp of astonishment that raised a burst of laughter against me. Thought
he was taken prisoner long ago! At all events, I didn't know he had turned
banker, or that his valuable autograph was worth a dollar!
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 180-4
