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Was Saved, and Other Memories of the Sixties
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eBook.
Title: How Beauty Was Saved, and Other Memories of the
Sixties
Author: Amanda Alcenia Strickland Washington
Release date: January 4, 2017 [eBook #53882]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW BEAUTY
WAS SAVED, AND OTHER MEMORIES OF THE SIXTIES ***
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors and misprints have been
corrected.
Blank pages have been deleted.
"Jayhawkers" is defined in a footnote in page 53 of the
original book, although it appears for the first time in page
11. For clarity, the footnote has been consequently moved.
HOW BEAUTY WAS SAVED
How Beauty Was Saved
And Other Memories of the Sixties
BY
MRS. JAMES MADISON WASHINGTON
(Mrs. A. A. Washington)
New York and Washington
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1907
Copyright, 1907, by
The Neale Publishing Company
To
SOUTHERN GIRLS
CONTENTS
How Beauty Was Saved 9
The Telltale Gloves 23
The Magic Sign 31
A Labor of Love 39
The "Jayhawkers" 51
Memories of Slave Days 59
A Narrow Escape 67
Green and golden memories
Of the thrilling time
When hearts and hands were true as steel
In our sunny Southern clime.
A. A. W.
HOW BEAUTY WAS SAVED
HOW BEAUTY WAS SAVED
In the summer of 1862, in the Bayou Manchac country near Baton
Rouge, Louisiana, there was a modest little schoolhouse called the
"Dove's Nest." To that school came two young girls to complete a
course of study begun in Baton Rouge before the Federals captured
that city.
The country was visited quite often by bands of Confederates,
"Jayhawkers,"[1] and Federals; the slaves on the vast sugar
plantations were in a demoralized condition from being so near the
enemy's lines; yet the girls braved all these dangers, and rode on
horseback (both on the same horse) three miles through forest and
field to attend school. They had no fear, for both could shoot a
pistol, and always carried a loaded one, and a small Spanish dirk for
self-protection. All the valuable horses on the plantation having been
given to the Confederate army, only two were left for family use, an
old one, not of much service, and a young beautiful bay, the
individual property of one of the girls.
This horse the girls rode to school. Naturally he had a shambling,
uncomfortable gait, but the girls determined to teach him to pace,
which they did by the use of a small steel spur.
The days sped on, the year blushed into spring, bloomed into
summer, and the girls grew accustomed to meeting bands of the
"Blue and the Gray," sometimes riding along only fifty yards apart,
yet totally ignorant of the fact. The girls narrowly missed being shot
on one occasion, as some soldiers were firing down the road for
practice, and the bullets whistled near their heads as they turned a
curve in the lane. The booming of cannon could be heard from the
Mississippi River; now and then a friend was killed in a roadside
skirmish; loved ones were captured and imprisoned; but the little
school was undisturbed outwardly, though thrilled with anxiety and
patriotism for the beloved Southland.
When the days grew too long and hot for study, the earnest little
teacher decided to close the term with a thorough, old-fashioned
examination, and a modest exhibition.
The neighborhood had been quiet for some weeks and no one
feared a visit from the enemy. The "Dove's Nest" was prettily
decorated, a piano moved in, and all made ready. The day of the
exhibition dawned bright and fair, the woods were full of flowers,
and nature seemed to laugh in the glad sunshine. The two girls
arrived early, and one of them decided to ride to a friend's home a
mile beyond, for a basket of fresh roses; she told her friend, the
owner of Beauty, of her intention, then sprang into the saddle and
rode away.
When she reached the house she noticed a horse and buggy under
an old oak near by. She knew it belonged to an old bachelor who
was slightly deaf (else he would have been in the Southern army),
and that he had come to take the little teacher to the schoolhouse.
When she dismounted she fastened her horse under the same tree,
in full view of the road. The house was surrounded by spacious
grounds, some distance from the main road, and a broad avenue led
up to it from a large outer gate. The flowers were soon gathered,
and after a chat with her friends, the girl started back, when
someone cried, "Just look at the Yankees!"
Sure enough, the house was surrounded and a company was
stationed at the big gate. The family stood together on the piazza,
pale with fear, for they never knew what would happen in those
troublous times. The officer in command told them that they were in
need of fresh horses to make a raid, and had orders to "press" any
into service that they could find. Turning to a soldier he said, "Take
that horse from the buggy, saddle him and see if he is fit for use."
This caused the girl some uneasiness about her friend's horse, but
she hoped the side-saddle would save him, as it had done when the
Southern army were pressing horses. Anxiously she waited and
listened. When the man returned, the Colonel said, "Try the other
one." The girl was trembling now; the horse was not hers, it was the
only one the family with whom she boarded could use to send to
mill, or for a physician in case of illness; and she felt that she could
not give him up without an effort to save him.
"Surely, sir, you are not going to take a schoolgirl's horse for the
Federal Government!" He smiled and asked her if she could swear
that the horse was hers. She told him no, the horse belonged to a
schoolgirl friend. He looked incredulous and said that he suspected it
belonged to a rebel soldier; and, bowing an apology, again spoke to
the man, "Try that horse." Like a flash a thought came to the girl.
She would not plead or beg,—she was too proud for that,—but she
said:
"Colonel, let me try him for you."
"Very well," he replied, much amused. "Bring him up, Lieutenant."
The girl had no time or chance to ask advice from anyone; but she
wore the sharp steel spur. The Colonel politely offered to assist her
in the saddle, but she sprang up without touching his hand. Dressed
in white muslin, with braided hair looped back with pink rosebuds;
without gloves, hat or riding skirt, she slowly started down the
avenue in front of the house. She let the horse shamble along in the
ugly way he liked until he reached the large gate where the
company of soldiers were stationed. They looked surprised to see
her riding down alone on one of the horses they had stopped to
take, but thinking it must be all right, as the Colonel was in view,
they lined up, saluted respectfully, and let her pass out. When she
was beyond the last guard, she said, "Now, Beauty, fly!" and, as she
used the spur freely, they did fly. For some distance they were in full
view of the Colonel and her friends who stood waiting on the piazza
for her return, then a curve in the road put her out of sight.
In a few minutes she heard the clatter of hoofs behind her, but as
the road was hard, dry and level, and she knew every foot of it, she
hoped to outrun her pursuers. Glancing back she saw two soldiers
splendidly mounted tearing after her. The "Dove's Nest" was in sight
now, but the soldiers were gaining ground. She could hear the
clanking of swords, the rattle of spurs, and the hoof beats. On she
flew, faster and faster, for Beauty seemed to feel, with the rider, that
an enemy was after them. The schoolyard gate was wide open, and
she dashed through it and up to the porch where an eager, startled
bevy of girls were assembled. She jumped off quickly and called to
her friend, "Here is your horse. The Yankees are after him!"
Just then the men rode up, very red, very angry, and somewhat
scared, for they were in dense woods over a mile from their
command. They ordered the girl to get back on that horse and
return to the Colonel. She told them that she would not do anything
of the kind; she was a Southern girl, not subject to Federal orders,
and that they could not compel her to return. The owner of the
horse said she would go with them, but they insisted on the girl who
ran away going, too. This she refused to do, and she told them if
they did not want to be captured by the Southern boys, they had
better not linger.
This had the desired effect, and the girl who owned the horse,
taking a small child behind her, rode back with the soldiers. When
she arrived, the Colonel was surprised to see a different girl on the
horse and to know that his men did not overtake the other one. The
owner of Beauty was very pretty, very eloquent and spirited, and she
could swear that the horse was hers, and prove it by people present,
so the Colonel allowed her to keep the horse. Her friend was greatly
relieved, and all rejoiced that Beauty was not surrendered to the
Federal Government to make a raid on our own dear soldier boys!
This is a true story, for the writer was the runaway.
[1] "Jayhawkers" were bands of deserters and outlaws that kept in hiding from
both armies and preyed upon helpless citizens.
THE TELLTALE GLOVES
THE TELLTALE GLOVES
The Federals having left, and Beauty being safe, we proceeded with
our exercises that summer day at the "Dove's Nest." We passed a
good examination, and just as we were singing our gayest songs a
party of Confederates rode up. They tied their horses to the
windows and doors, came in, and enjoyed the little concert. After
the last melody had died away and the shades of evening were
falling, we rode slowly homeward, each girl with a soldier boy beside
her.
One of the soldiers, in particular, was a reckless, daring young
man, who had shot at the Federals from ambush many times, had
captured some of their horses, and was quite a terror to the raiders.
His father's home was in that neighborhood, and the Federals were
trying to capture him.
Now, when the boys—for they were only boys—left us at the gate
this particular one forgot his gloves—left them on a gate post. We
found them, took them into the house, and threw them carelessly on
the hall table. There were no millinery stores, in fact no stores of
any kind in the country, so the girls, for riding hats, wore boys' hats,
with a plume jauntily pinned on the side. We took our hats off and
laid them on the table by the gloves. The boy's nickname, "Little
Dare Devil," was on the inside of the buckskin cuffs, but we had not
noticed it.
That night we were aroused from sleep by the barking of dogs, the
rattling of sabers and spurs. We knew, as soon as we were well
awake, that the Federals were in the house, and, slipping on our
wrappers, we ran to mother's room, for we could hear them beating
on our doors. We were dreadfully frightened, for there was an
unfinished suit of Confederate gray in the house, and we knew that
if it was found the house would be burned to ashes. Mother, who
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