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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 8 (search)
ey seem to have existed only in imagination. I feel like one awaking from some bright dream, to face the bitter realities of a hard, sordid world. The frightful results of its downfall are all that remain to tell us that there ever was a Southern Confederacy. Oh, for the glorious old days back again, with all their hardships and heroism, with all their pomp and circumstance of glorious war! --for war, with all its cruelty and destruction, is better than such a degrading peace as this. Aug. 9, Wednesday I took a horseback ride before breakfast, and learned the catch trot, which is a great help in riding a rough-going horse. We had a dance in the evening, which I did not enjoy much. . . . I have sent my account of the bank robbery to try its fate with the New York world. In a private letter to the editor, I explained that I wrote as if I were a Yankee sojourning at the South, in order to make some of the hard things it was necessary to say in telling the truth, as little unpa