Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: How Beauty Was Saved and Other Memories of the Sixties by Washington Amanda Alcenia Strickland
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 27 lines and 5008 words, and 1 pages
lied the leader. Then they pushed their way into the hall, the parlor, the bedrooms, and all over the house, opening trunks, bureau drawers, desks, and closets. They took every yard of cloth they could find and everything that looked new or valuable, piling them on the front piazza. Toilet articles, ladies' underwear, everything!
My brother was a physician, at that time a surgeon in a Louisiana regiment, and we had quite a collection of jars and bottles of medicine that had been left over, among them a bottle of quinine valued at one hundred dollars, and prized above gold or silver. This medicine they found, and, sneering and jeering, placed it with other things. When they had gone through every room, they went to the old-fashioned smoke-house in the yard, where the home-cured meat, the corn meal and other such things were kept, broke open the door and entered.
Hidden away there was a small demijohn of whiskey, kept for medicinal purposes, and a box of sugar, kept also for the sick and suffering. When they found that, the men went wild with glee, and they ran, shouting, to the kitchen for cups and were soon drinking the fiery liquid. We stood looking on in agony,--the old father, the physician's wife, two young girls, and several small children,--all helpless, at the mercy of a band of drunken outlaws, two miles from any help!
After they had swallowed every drop, and felt warmed and cheered by the whiskey, they came out and began to talk about the sad duty of obeying "Government orders." We then told them that the report they had heard was false; that all the things they had collected on the piazza were in the house when the war broke out, and that we could prove it by the Home Guards, who would probably be along soon from their camp near by. Of course, this was a ruse resorted to in our desperation, but it had a magical effect. The men ran to their horses, mounted in haste, and dashed off through the woods in a wild gallop. Oh! what a relief, and how thankful we were! The goods were left on the piazza floor, quinine, clothing and all. They never came again, but the fear of their return never left us by night or day, until the war was over.
MEMORIES OF SLAVE DAYS
MEMORIES OF SLAVE DAYS
Rows and rows of white-washed cottages constituted the "quarters," with narrow streets between them, many of the little homes adorned with bright-hued, old-fashioned flowers in the front yards, or with potato and melon patches.
On cold winter evenings bright firelight shone from every door and window. Inside, the father sitting in the chimney corner, smoking his pipe while he deftly wove white-oak splints into cotton baskets; the mother, mending, or knitting, while the fat little darkies tumbled about on the floor, or danced to the music of Uncle Tom's fiddle.
The slaves were well fed, well clothed, well housed, and when ill they were well nursed, and attended by a good doctor.
Their houses were warmed by fires in broad fireplaces, fires which they kept burning all night.
They had gay "Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes," and they generally went to church, either to the "white folkses' church," where an upper gallery was provided for them, or to their own special service.
If a planter allowed his slaves to be mistreated in any way, he and his family were ostracized from society, and made to feel the disapprobation of their neighbors. So general was this method of administering rebuke that it seemed to be an unwritten law throughout the South.
Sometimes, as it often happens to-day, an overseer of quick or ungovernable temper would be severe in punishing an offender; but he soon lost his place and a kinder man was employed in his instead.
Somewhere in the "quarters" a large nursery was situated, and there the babies and small children were cared for by the old women while their mothers worked in the cotton-fields.
White children were taught to treat the grown-up servants with respect, and as they could not say "Mrs." or "Mr.," they called them "aunt" or "uncle." On Sunday afternoons the white children were often sent to read the Bible to the old colored people, and the children thought it quite an honor. If any of the house servants wanted to learn to read, they were taught, though after the war we heard this was against the law. We never knew it!
The faithfulness and devotion of the slaves has been written of by historians, and they deserve all praise, for many of them were noble and self-sacrificing. After the war many of them remained at the old homestead with their former owners, as long as they could be provided for, and when poverty compelled a separation, they left the homestead with sorrow.
It is the "floating" class of colored people that cause the trouble we read about in the daily papers. Those negroes who have been reared in the South, and know the old traditions, are law-abiding citizens with comfortable homes, good schools, fine churches, and every chance to be prosperous and contented.
A NARROW ESCAPE
A NARROW ESCAPE
One bright, beautiful day, we were all made happy by a visit from the oldest son of the family, a surgeon in the Confederate army. The river, winding almost around the plantation, was "up to its banks" from recent heavy rains, all the bridges had been destroyed, and we felt comparatively safe from the Federals on the other side, though Baton Rouge was only nine miles away. The Doctor, who wore Confederate gray ornamented with Louisiana pelican buttons, rode a fine large horse, which he left in the stables some distance from the house.
Sitting around the broad fireplace in mother's room, talking of the home people and the war, we were enjoying the unexpected visit, when one of the girls chanced to look out through the south door. She turned very pale, and exclaimed, "Look at the soldiers!" All around the kitchen, talking to the servants, and all over the grounds were Federal soldiers on horseback.
What was to be done? If our brother was captured it meant imprisonment to the end of the war, and perhaps death. When he realized the situation, for he had been near the door and knew they had come for him and were questioning the servants, he dropped on his knees, crept into a small room adjoining, where two of us pulled off his gray coat and replaced it by an old one from the wardrobe, gave him a book, and someone whispered, "Go into the guest-chamber and wait. Take these old trousers with you." He slipped into the quiet room, and taking a seat by the window, and opening the book, assumed the r?le of an invalid. Then we hastily concealed the Confederate uniform, but where we put it I can never remember. It was securely hidden.
In a little while the Federals, the girls, and the family were all engaged in pleasant conversation on the piazza overlooking the beautiful flower-yard and the lovely, peaceful scene. Someone quietly stole back to the prisoner's room, told him the chance to escape had come, gave him an old hat, and helped him get out of the window near the garden, a garden bordered by a dense hedge. Then the messenger returned to the group on the porch, and we chatted gaily, while our hearts were beating with excitement and anxiety for the fugitive.
After some time the soldiers began to mount their horses, the servant having told us in the mean time that the Yankees had the Doctor's horse. We concluded that the fugitive would need his horse to get back to Port Hudson, if he had escaped, and we felt encouraged to believe he had, and we determined we would try to save the horse also. Two of us requested the Colonel to step into the parlor, as we wished to speak to him. He looked a little suspicious and seemed ill at ease when he had entered the room and the door was closed. The large, beautiful room with its heavy furniture, its bright brass andirons, its elegant pictures and wealth of flowers seemed harmless enough, and one of the girls was beautiful and bewitching, so he braved the danger and asked what he could do for us. We told him a fine horse had been taken out of our stables by his men; that we needed the animal as we were fond of horseback riding, and only the old carriage horses were left to us. He said he was sorry to refuse our polite request, but his men had seen the army saddle and bridle; that it looked like a "U. S." horse,--in fact, was branded "U. S.,"--and under the circumstances he would be obliged to take him.
All this time our soldier-brother was hurrying across fields and woods, hills and valleys to the banks of the river, which meant safety on the other side. The officer, as I remember across the long years now passed, enjoyed the novelty of his position and looked with interest and a touch of sympathy at the Southern home and the piquant Southern girls. When he returned to the veranda the soldiers mounted their horses, gave us a respectful salute, and galloped down the broad avenue. When they reached the gate a large flock of geese, about a hundred, furiously attacked the enemy; their horses reared and plunged, and the "rank and file" were so angry because they had not been allowed any spoils, that they unsheathed their swords and, leaning over as far as they could, cut off the heads of some of our bravest ganders--the officers sitting erect, and trying to look grave. It was an amusing sight. "They routed them, they scouted them, nor lost a single man!"
When all had gone we sent a boy in haste to the ford of the river to find out about our soldier. He had crossed the swollen stream in a rude dug-out with board paddles, and was safe, safe on the other side.
For additional contact information:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page