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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 5 (search)
rtridges they had seized. Confederate money is of no more use now than so much waste paper, but by filling their canteens with powder they can trade it off along the road for provisions. They scattered lead and cartridges all over the ground. Marshall went out after they left and picked up enough to last him for years. The balls do not fit his gun, but he can remold them and draw the powder out of the cartridges to shoot with. I am uneasy at having so much explosive material in the house, e a gentleman, in spite of his politics, and at any rate nobody can accuse him of self-interest, for he has sacrificed as much in the war as any other private citizen I know, except those whose children have been killed. His sons, all but little Marshall, have been in the army since the very first gun — in fact, Garnett was the first man to volunteer from the county, and it is through the mercy of God and not of his beloved Union that they have come back alive. Then, he has lost not only his ne
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, V. In the dust and ashes of defeat (may 6-June 1, 1865). (search)
to them. I had a little adventure with a party of Yankees myself this afternoon. I was down in the back garden with Marshall, Touchy, Gilmer Sale, and some other boys, shooting at a mark with an Enfield rifle and a minie musket they had picked ucoming, but I was afraid the affair might get us into trouble unless I explained, so I stood waiting for the envoy, with Marshall's rifle in my hand. I told the man what we were doing, and expressed the hope — which happened, for once, to be sincerehed him out of the kitchen. I was greatly touched the other day by the history of a little boy, not much bigger than Marshall, whom I found in the back yard with a party of soldiers that had come in to get their rations cooked. Metta first noticn the grove after dinner, I heard a fine band playing in the street. I turned away and tried not to listen, till little Marshall called to me that it was a Confederate band. In his eagerness to hear, he had climbed up on the fence and sat down in t
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
ith Mr. Hobbs, in Albany, to be forwarded by any opportunity he finds. We write to her by sending our letters to Gus Bacon, in Macon, and he has so much communication with Gum Pond that he can easily forward them there. The chief difficulty is in getting them from here to Macon. Nobody has money to travel much, so it is a mere chance if we find anybody to send them by. The express will carry letters, but it is expensive and uncertain. Capt. Hudson has been amusing himself by teaching Marshall and some of his little friends to dance. They meet in our parlor at six o'clock every afternoon. Mary Day and I assist, she by playing the piano, and I by dancing with the children and making them keep time. At first only the Pope and Alexander children and Touch were invited, but so many others have dropped in that I call him the village dancing master. Cousin Bolling came over this afternoon, and we had a pleasant little chat together till the buggy was brought round for Mary and me