Chapter II: Part 2

Soon after they got off we remembered the wine up-stairs, and though we did not know at what moment the Yankees would be here, we made the attempt to bring it down, and then we had time to seal the bottles and have them buried in the garden. By that time a wagon came from Moorfield with some of Aunt Ria’s things; we were very much relieved to hear that the enemy was not at Moorfield, but near Walworth. A carriage then came from Indianfield, and you would have been amused to see the number of people in it, four nurses and eight children. The house was in confusion all day. Belle and Aunt Ria both moving over, and Grand Pa moving provisions into the house, we all worked so hard that we were completely worn out by night. Aunt Ria came that evening and told us how the mistake had been made, she had written to Sarrazins exactly what she wrote us the evening before; the family there sent word to the driver at Brunswick that the Yankees were near Moorfield, and he must give out the corn to the negroes; the driver sent word to Northampton that they were at Moorfield. As everything was so quiet Emily[73] and I went to spend the night with Cousin Henrietta we had not been frightened enough for one day, for after supper, Mr. Jervey’s[74] entire family came down. They had heard that the raiders had burnt Mr. Parker’s house near them; they had intended coming down the next day, but this news brought them at once. Emily had gone to bed with a headache, and wanted to get up and come home, but I persuaded her they could not get there before the next day, though I was so frightened I could scarcely stand. So much for one day of Yankee fright!

Febr’y. 17. We were quite relieved to hear that the enemy had taken the State Road, and gone down to Summerville. They had visited several places and taken what they pleased. On our way home we met Belle[75] and Sister[76] who told us of a report that the Yankees were at The Rocks Church and the plantation on their way to Belle Isle. I did not believe it, but thought it better to be prepared, so buried a few things. Aunt Ria received a note from Cousin Edward[77] saying there was no truth in the reports we had heard, that there was not a Yankee this side of Orangeburg. We were not left quiet for long, for that evening Capt. Guerard, from Savannah, rode up to say that he had come to notify the planters that all of their corn was to be impressed by our government to feed the army on its retreat from Charleston, and that planters would be obliged to remove their property beyond the lines. This was the first intimation we had that the evacuation had commenced. We then held a council of war, and decided that we must send and let the gentlemen know what we had heard; fortunately we had found out that they were at the Eady’s. We all felt very blue for we heard that our army was crossing as fast as possible at St. Stephens, and then the bridge was to be burned.

Febr’y. 18th. By breakfast time, the hiding party arrived. At first Pa said it was impossible to stay here; that we must leave, if we had to walk, but upon deliberation he concluded we could not go, for the railroad being cut, our only way was by Orangeburg, which we knew had been in the hands of the enemy, and besides, we did not know if we had a house to go to, for we had heard nothing definite from Aiken. We had three of our soldiers to spend the night, and they cheered us up a great deal, and said it was best to stay at home.

Feb’y. 19th. I have never spent such a Sunday, and hope I never will spend such another; we were in confusion from the time we got up until we went to bed. Aunt Bet[78] moved over, and Mr. Gignilliat came with her to spend a few hours.

I had just been hoping that some of the soldiers we knew would stop here. That night after we had all retired, Tom Heyward came up, his feet all blistered from marching. On the 20th. Tom Heyward, Tom Porcher Ravenel, and Samuel Ravenel all left to join their respective commands, Tom Porcher having joined Mr. Gignilliat’s battery. We were very anxious that Harry should go along with them, but he was by no means strong enough.

Nothing occurred of any consequence except our soldiers coming in continually, until the 24th, when we heard that there was fighting down at Biggin Church. Uncle Thomas,[79] who was at home, hurried off, and Belle[80] moved her family to Pineville to secure a summer home. About dinner time a party of horsemen rode up; for a time we thought them Yankees, but soon found out they were a squad under Lieut. Miller from Colcock’s cavalry. On the 25th just at dinner time, Dr. Waring[81] drove up to say that Uncle Thomas would pass through in a few moments on his way to St. Stephens and that our pickets were retreating before the enemy. In a very short time a number of our men passed through the yard. We felt as if our last friends had left us, and that we would never see a Confederate soldier again, and to add to our discomfort Dr. Waring told us that the Yankees had visited Gippy, taken all they wished, and then given out everything else to the negroes. Cousin Catherine’s[82] clothes were thrown out, her bed clothes, towels, &c., burnt; her person was guarded; that was all. Of course this put us in a state of mind. That night Pennie[83] and myself sat up until 2:00 o’clock putting away things in a mattress. We opened the cotton and put the things between. Though the next day was Sunday we found a hiding place in our room and put away a great many things. That evening we heard that Mr. Harvey[84] had been visited, but not very badly treated. Just as we had gone up stairs a servant of Uncle Rene’s came in to say that the Yankees were all along the road from Fairspring to Wantoot. We all slept in our clothes that night for we were certain they would be here before morning. On the 27th about midday the alarm was given that “the Yankees were coming” but we had our fright for nothing, for they turned out to be some of our scouts under Lieut. Bright. They had four prisoners taken near Mr. Westcoat’s place with a cart full of things. Two of our men said they wanted to kill the prisoners but the others would not let them. They stayed that night, and the next at Harbin, or a part of the next, for a servant betrayed and they were taken so much by surprise that two of these men were killed, two wounded and Bright and two of his men taken prisoners. The Yankees fired several times into the house thinking men were there. They then gave out everything to the negroes, which they all brought back to Cousin Jane.[85]

The 1st of March is a day which we will never forget; everything went on as usual until nine o’clock at night when we heard several pistol shots in the negro yard. I ran up stairs to tell Pennie who had gone to bed and by the time I got back we heard a noise at the back door; our hearts sank when we heard them talking, for they were negroes without an officer, what we had always dreaded. They asked for the master of the house, and when Grand Pa went out, they asked in the most insolent manner for his horses, wagons, meat and poultry. They then asked if there were any fire arms in the house, and told there was none but a plantation gun. They said they would not believe that such a house could be without a gun and that they would have it or shed blood. They then went off into the yard to get the things. They emptied the smokehouse; took what poultry they wanted, and then went to the store room under the house, took a few things from there and told the negroes to go in and take the rest;--which they did, cleaning out the store room and meat room. There were a great many things there for Aunt Bet had moved over her provisions. The plantation negroes took about twenty bushels of salt; twenty of rice; fifteen of grist, besides several jars of lard, molasses; all of Hennie’s soap, a box of Pineland crockery and a good many other things. They left us with one quart of salt in the house and would not bring any of it back, until Pa stated the case to a _white Yankee_, the next day and he went around and made them bring some of it back. When the negro soldiers first went to the store room they sent for Grand Pa. It made our blood curdle to hear our aged relative spoken to in the manner they did. We were all in the hall and could hear everything that went on below. After some very impudent language we heard a gun click. I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The wretch had his gun pointed at Grand Pa, and though we found out afterwards that they did not dare to take life, we did not know it at the time. After this they called up the negroes and told them they were free, and if they worked for Grand Pa again they would shoot them. They then went off with three horses, a wagon and a buggy. They told the negroes that the army would be through the next day to take our clothes and other things. Three of us sat up in the hall for the rest of the night, and though the others retired to their rooms there was rest for no one. It must have been too mortifying to poor Grand Pa for his negroes to behave as they did, taking the bread out of our mouths. I thought better of them than that. I have attempted to describe that dreadful night, but nothing can come up to the reality. The next morning everything looked so desolate that it made us feel sad, most of the house servants came in crying, and said they were willing to do for us, but were afraid. Of course we would not put them in any danger, so sent them all off. We sat down to breakfast to a plate of hominy and cold corn bread that had been cooked the day before for one of our soldiers. The very night before we had sat down to an elaborate supper;--such are the fortunes of war! We cleaned up the house and cooked dinner, looking all the time for our _friends_ for such we considered the officers. Just as our dinner was put on the table a party rode up; we were so glad to see them that we all went in the piazza. The officer came forward and bowed very politely. Pa then told him how we had been treated the night before and asked what guarantee we would have against such treatment in the future.

Capt. Hurlbut who was in command of the party said that the black soldiers had no authority to come without an officer and if found, they would be punished. He said that Gen’l. Potter would be along soon and we might get a protection from him, but afterwards he said that he would write a paper which might do us good, and certainly would do no harm. I do not remember the words; but, the sense of it was, that we had very wisely remained at home, while many had flocked to other parts of the Confederacy. He said that everything had already been taken from us, and he would advise that we would not be further molested. He then spoke to the negroes, told them they were free and could either go away or stay at home, but if they remained on the place, they must work, for no one could live without working. He told them they would be better off if they stayed at home.

Soon after Col. Hartwell and staff arrived. They all agreed in saying that the marauders would be punished and the Colonel signed the paper. One of his staff got quite familiar; played with Aunt Ria’s baby, little Maria, and ended by kissing her. We laugh and tell the baby she has caught a Yankee beau, and she always laughs and seems to enjoy the joke. In a very short time Gen’l Potter and his staff came up in the piazza. Then the army commenced passing through the yard, about three regiments of infantry, one white and two colored passed through, besides artillery and cavalry. Each one stopped (_sic_) and the men ran in every direction after poultry. They marched the colored regiments right by the piazza; I suppose as an insult to us. The negroes were collected in the yard and cheered them on, Hennie[86] and Sister[87] asked the General if he could not leave us a guard that night, but, he said there was no use; his army did not straggle, and that he could not leave a guard at every place he passed. The General did not make a favorable impression on us;[88] he was very short in his manner, but his staff were very polite. One of them told us to try the General again.

You must not be too surprised at our staying out in the piazza with so many men, for there were a great many of us to keep company, and then we had never seen such a sight in our lives before. The last of the army had not left the yard before we saw the General returning; he said he had determined to take up his headquarters here that night. We were all of course, delighted for we could not have been better guarded. They had the parlor for their sitting room, and one chamber for the General. The wagon train camped just in front of the house, and two regiments in the field in front. There was a sentinel at the front and one at the back door all night. The camp fires looked very pretty at night. Did we ever imagine that Pooshee would be headquarters for a Yankee army? About two hundred head of poultry and a great many sheep were killed; the negroes’ own did not escape! We recognized one of the prisoners (that our scouts had here the first of the week) driving a cart, and Lieut. Bright and his men were prisoners that night in the wash room, one of them asked to be allowed to speak to some of the girls who were at the back door; he seemed to be a gentleman.

During the course of the next day soldiers were continually passing through. Our protection paper was of great use, for we were not molested again and from that day to this 9th of March we have been in comparative quiet.

Wantoot[89] house has been burned, also seven unoccupied houses in Pineville. Some of the residents there were shamefully treated, even their clothes taken from them. Uncle Rene was among the fortunate ones; he only had a ham stolen from his house but all of his poultry. They went into the house at Woodboo, though a Mrs. Williams was living there to protect it, opened every drawer and box in the house; dressed themselves in Uncle Thomas’s and the boys’ new clothes, leaving their old ones behind.

At Northampton they were told by the negroes that a good many things were hid in the house, so made a thorough search. They actually threatened to hang Mr. Jervey, and had the rope brought. For some time they had been told (that treasure?) had been buried. The people about here would not have suffered near as much if it had not been for these negroes; in every case they have told where things have been hidden and they did most of the stealing. The negroes here have behaved worse than any I have heard of yet.

Daddy Sandy is as faithful as ever. He is sorry that the Yankees have been here. George still comes about the house, but does not do much. Daddy Billy, who we all thought so much of, has not come in since they were made free. He pretends to be hurt because Hennie told him he could go if he wanted to. Hennie’s maid Annette has taken herself off. Kate comes in regularly to attend in the bed rooms night and morning.

We have to do our own cooking now, and you don’t know how nicely we do it. * * * * * We take it by turns to cook dinner in the pantry, two going together every day. * * * I have not touched my needle for a week; would you believe that? The field negroes are in a dreadful state; they will not work, but either roam the country, or sit in their houses. At first they all said they were going, but have changed their minds now. Pa has a plan to propose to them by which they are to pay Grand Pa so much for the hire of the land and houses; but they will not come up to hear it. I do not see how we are to live in this country without any rule or regulation. We are afraid now to walk outside of the gate. * * * * *

We have just heard a report that Charlie Porcher has been taken prisoner in a fight near Aiken, and fear it is true. Do let me tell you a smart trick of Cephas, Grand Pa’s carpenter! It is worthy of the Yankees. Before (the minds of the) Moorfield negroes had been poisoned, he went there and told the servant Robert that Aunt Ria had sent him for a cart, five turkeys and a sheep. He then came here at night, took up his wife Adela and traveled off to Charleston. One of Aunt Ria’s negroes who had always been sick got one mule from Moorfield, another mule and carriage from some other place, went to Pinopolis and took all of Mr. Stevens’s[90] books. The next day he went for the piano. He told some of the negroes that he had been playing on it already. The negroes are in the most lawless and demoralized state imaginable. If this is what the Yankees intended they have made their work complete. We have to keep everything under lock and key, and can call nothing our own now.

Grand Pa seems completely broken down, tho’ he tries to keep up. It must be too hard for one of his age to have everything so changed from what he has been accustomed to all of his life.

The day that the Yankees left here, George brought in an envelope which he found in the prison (the wash-house). It was directed to “Miss Carrie Cribbs,” Tuscaloosa, Ala. On the back was a Confederate stamp, and inside a blank sheet of paper folded. At first we did not think anything of it; but the idea soon struck Aunt Bet that it was left here with an object, which was that we should write and let the young lady know what had become of him. We heard afterward that one of the prisoners’ name was “Cribbs,” so that settled all doubts we had on the subject. We will send the letter off the first opportunity we hear of, tho’ I can’t say when that will be, for we are entirely cut off from the world and almost entirely from neighborhood news.

March 10. We received notes from White Hall and Sarrazins and also a letter from Alice Palmer, quite a _treat_. The White Hall negroes behaved shamefully; they rushed into the house; tore down the curtains, carried off bedding, blankets and trunks, and are grumbling now that they have not enough. We hear that one man asked Cousin Marianne[91] to step out and take a dance, that they were on equality now.

March 11. Uncle Rene dined here to-day. It was really refreshing to see some one out of the house. He says there is a report that Sherman has been defeated with heavy loss, and is going down to Georgetown. I fear it is too good to be true. Uncle Rene also brought the news that fighting was going on at Blue Hole, Uncle Charles Snowden’s place. I suppose it can only be a skirmish. How composedly we can be talking of fighting in our very midst!

One item of news, which I must not forget to tell you, is that Newport has taken the cooking, and we are all ladies again.

March 13th. Dr Waring[92] came in to-day and told us the particulars of the affair at Blue Hole. On Thursday four Yankee negroes, with a good many plantation negroes, armed, went to Moorfield. There they found a quantity of wine. A good many men joined them from there and Cedar Grove, mounted on anything they could find, and in a drunken state they all rode up the Parish. When they reached Blue Hole, Charlie Snowden, who was there on a visit, went off and informed our scouts. They killed two or three of the negroes, and took several prisoners, which I do not think they kept long. After they left, the negro soldiers made the negroes move everything out of the house, and the family had to go into the kitchen. The next day our scouts came up again to assist Aunt Harrie[93] in recovering her things; but, she begged them to go away; that they had been the cause of her trouble, so they left in not at all a good humor, and we have heard nothing more. I hope young Charlie Snowden has succeeded in getting out of the way. Several of the people about here have put up the white flag, because the Yankees told them it would be a sign that they had already been visited. Our scouts did not like it; they said it looked as if the country had submitted, so they have all been taken down. I am so glad we never had one up.

March 14th. We all went to Northampton this morning to pay a visit; quite an era in our own monotonous lives. Pa rode on horse-back and we closed up the ranks on foot.

March 15th. Aunt Ria left us this morning to stay a while at Woodlawn. She went in the buggy with the baby and Maum Mary; the two boys followed in the cart.

March 16th. Dr. White[94] dined here to-day; he had just crossed the river. He had not seen a paper for some time, so, of course, could not tell us much news. Sherman had not been defeated and was avoiding a battle.

March 17th. Drs. White and Waring paid visits here to-day. We are not as much cut off as we expected at first. Dr. Waring told us he heard that the oath of allegiance was to be offered to every man in the country. This is the worst news we have heard of for some time. Pa and Harry will try and get out of the way, but Grand Pa will be compelled to take it.

March 18th. Mr. Cain and Anna Maria were here to-day; the old gentleman seems to feel his loss very much.

March 20th. * * * * This morning Pa went to Woodlawn to try and make arrangements for carrying us all to Aiken. He has succeeded in hiring three mules, and the present plan is that we are to start on Wednesday in a wagon,--Rather a novel style of making the trip! We are all anxious now to go, but hate so much leaving Grand Pa, and the rest of the family, particularly in Grand Pa’s state of health.

March 21st. We heard rumors to-day of the enemy landing on the banks of the Santee, and coming this way in great force which made Pa decide not to go on Wednesday. * * * * *

March 22nd. We heard to-day from Nina[95] and Cousin James Wilson. * * * Nina writes on the 16th of March from Winnsboro. She had met the enemy there and had not lost much. * * * a good many houses were burned in Winnsboro, also the Episcopal Church, and they were kept in constant fear. Cousin James and family lost everything by fire in Columbia--They had to spend one night in the woods with Nana’s[96] baby only ten days old. How much some people have suffered. We have every cause to be thankful, for we have suffered very little in comparison to others.

We also heard to-day of several battles in which we had been victorious; that France had recognized the Confederacy and the United States had declared war against Mexico,--if it could only be true! We cannot help feeling hopeful anyhow.

Dr. Waring mentioned that a few Yankees had landed, but had gone back to their gun boats, so the Aiken cavalcade is to go off in the morning.

March 23rd. The Club House[97] came down with a crash this evening, or rather the frame, for the Yankees had nearly stripped it of boards and the negroes finished it.

March 24th. The caravan started for Aiken to-day. The negroes are behaving a great deal better now on most of the plantations; they have commenced working again, and most of them that went to town have come back, which I think will have a very good effect on the others. Our scouts have done a great deal of good in making the negroes afraid to go out.

March 25th. Harbin house was burned yesterday about 2:00 o’clock by accident we hear. We have heard no particulars, or what has become of the family. Mr. Myers (the overseer) returned home to-day to join the scouts. He reports that Sherman has been defeated in N. C. and four thousand prisoners taken. He was perfectly surprised to see the state of things here, so different from what they are on the river. We feel very anxious about Henry,[98] for Mr. Myers left him a week ago in Chester quite sick. He was in a cotton house as he could not get private lodgings. We saw a Charleston Courier of 21st of March. The Yankees claim the victories of all the battles that have been fought lately, and say the Rebels are nearly done up! That remains to be proved.

March 26th. This day will long be remembered by the people of Pineville. The Regulators[99] had just returned from Mt. Pleasant with a supply of arms and ammunition--Last night they sent to several of the gentlemen and told them they would hang them the next day, but our scouts surprised them this morning and 27 were killed, eleven right off, and the others in the course of the day. One man was taken who told where their ammunition was hidden, and then he was dispatched. Several made their escape in the woods but the ring-leaders were killed;--15 were killed from Capt. Gourdin’s place. Our force was 56 men; that of the negroes was not known, though supposed to be less. We hear that Col. Ferguson[100] is on his way with 1,500 men, and Major Jenkins with six companies. They will soon put things straight again.

March 30th. * * * Mr. Stevens arrived to-day. He does not appear to think anything of the behavior of his flock; but I know he must feel mortified and disappointed. He will remain and preach for us as long as it is safe for him to do so. To-day has been a regular mail day. Mr. Stevens brought letters from Nina, Mrs. Sams and Auntie,[101] * * * one from Uncle Charlie Snowden saying he had taken possession of our farm, and also mentioning that some of Wheeler’s men had broken into the house, taken all of the carpets, blankets and provisions. * * * This evening Hennie received a long note from Cousin Marianne Porcher; she mentioned that Hardee had been repulsed, but that after that Johnston had defeated Sherman taking 4,000 prisoners.

Press Smith was wounded in both legs, and his brother Porcher in the head; both were doing well; Ravenel Macbeth was wounded and a prisoner. We have heard nothing of our other friends. Cousin Marianne says she heard from negroes that the entire Barker family had taken the oath of allegiance and were preparing to go to the city. We cannot blame them for we do not know how they were situated. Dr. Motte had refused the oath up here, but was carried to Charleston, and there he was made to take it. Mr. Holmes refused to take it and is now a prisoner. I do not know how true all this is, but we must take it for what it is worth. I am very thankful that Pa has gotten away and that we do not live on Cooper river. * * *

March 31st. The Northampton people paid a visit here to-day. Willie Jervey is at home for a short time. We heard a report to-day that Charleston was blockaded by fifty French vessels and that the Yankees were preparing to evacuate the place. It came from a man about here who had gone down to the Gunboat to take the oath of allegiance.

April 1st. The negroes’ freedom was brought to a close to-day. During the morning a party of our scouts rode up and asked if Grand Pa wished them to do anything for him. Grand Pa told them that one of his negroes had been seen with a gun but had said that it belonged to one of Uncle Rene’s men who had gone to town, so the scouts went off. We were very uneasy when we saw them coming, fearing that they might be Yankees. About dinner time another party came up, Edward Dennis, Mr. McTureous and several others. They requested the negroes be called up, and told them they were not free, but slaves, and would be until they died; that the Yankees had no right to free them, and that they were to go to work as they had always done with a driver;[102] that they would be here every two or three days to see that they worked, and the first one caught out without a ticket would be killed. Then they demanded guns from two of them and said they were to be forthcoming. Poor deluded creatures! Their friends the Yankees have done them more harm than good; this day month their freedom was proclaimed. One report to-day is that the white Union soldiers in Savannah united with the citizens and massacred 4,000 blacks on account of their outrageous behavior. Another is that the Gun Boats have left the Santee and the one on Cooper river has gone lower down. About dark after we had shut up the house we heard a loud rap at the front door, and much to our surprise it proved to be your father (Mr. Heyward). He had come all the way from Aiken on horseback to carry Aunt Bet back.

April 2nd. We have been permitted the privilege of again meeting at church to offer our thanks to God for his manifold mercies to us during this terrible time. Nearly every one in the Parish succeeded in getting there, mules supplying the places of all horses that had been taken. It was very pleasant to meet our friends, whom we had not seen for six weeks.

April 4th. Aunt Bet started to-day for Aiken with a carriage, two wagons, one cart, one donkey cart, two cows and an outrider,--quite a cavalcade! We heard today that two of the ring leaders from Pineville went to the Gunboat and told how they had been treated, whereupon the officers had them put in irons and sent to Charleston, and told them, if they had only known it, they would have sent a company to help the white men. We received numerous letters from Aiken this morning by the return wagons. I am sorry to say that Wheeler’s men have done us more damage than the Yankees. I did not mind it at first when I thought they had only taken things they needed, but I do blame them very much for their wanton destruction of property that they ought to protect. It is a shame and they ought to be exposed.

April 6th. The scouts were here again to-day under Lieut. Pettus.[103] Charlie Snowden has joined them. Hennie got them to go to Wampee and send her maid Anette home.

April 8th. We have had another visit to-day from the Yankees. Before breakfast we saw smoke in the direction of Somerset, and the negroes told us they had heard a drum and fife in the night. We thought it was imagination until a servant from Wantoot told us that the Yankees had burnt Somerset house and were coming on. Soon after we saw them coming through the field, and in a very short time the house was full of black Yankees. I remained in the hall to see what they would take there, and to keep a watch on our room door. The first one that came into the room asked for fire arms. I told him they had all been taken. The next one asked for silver. I had no idea of showing him, so told him I was not the lady of the house. He made no reply but went on looking. A number then came in, and the silver was soon found and carried off; 40 small pieces of table silver and soup ladle; these, and one candle stick were the only things taken from the hall. Grand Pa lost all of his clothes that he had out. A box was broken open, some sheets and table cloths taken, the rest flung over the floor interspersed with broken eggs. The safe door was broken open and the ham taken. Several other rooms were entered and things taken; but, I am thankful to say our room was left untouched. All of the horses were taken. Gen’l Hartwell took good care not to come up until the darkies had left. He told his Captain to go and see if he _could_ get the silver and one horse back, which, of course, we knew he did not _mean_ him to do. The object of their visit was to catch the scouts. They said we had brought all of this on ourselves for encouraging the scouts.

Uncle Rene and Uncle William have both been taken prisoners and we hear, are to be carried to Charleston. They took the latter to get information from him,--so they say, but we think they took him because he had entertained the scouts. Uncle Rene had to put himself under the protection of the General as there was a conspiracy detected among the black troops to come back that night and kill him. The Yankees went to Mexico this evening and I suppose will visit all the places up there.

April 10th. Of course there was no service yesterday. Dr. Waring paid a visit and told us that Mr. Stevens was still in the Parish, but keeping close. This morning several of the negro men came to Grand Pa and asked to be allowed to stay here and work; they would do anything he told them. The Yankees told them to go _with them_, but they said they did not want to go. Two of the boys from here have joined the (U. S.?) Army.

April 11th. * * * * Cousin Mazyck Porcher[104] has been taken prisoner. Mexico house and all the out buildings have been burned. Last accounts of the enemy they were at Eutaw Springs.

April 12th. Uncle Rene and Uncle Wm. returned home to-day. We were too thankful to hear of their release. They were carried as far as Eutaw, and then told to “Go Home.”

_Woodlawn, April 14th._ Uncle Rene drove Sister home, and I came back here to take her place. Uncle Rene and Uncle William had a most dreadful experience on the ride from Pineville to Mexico with the Army. At one time they were guarded by only one black soldier, and they could hear others all around trying to bribe their guard to give them up to be killed; but the guard, though a darky, was above bribing.

_Pooshee, April 20th._ I returned here to-day quite unexpectedly. Pa came down last night and went over for me. We are to leave on Monday. We hear the most exaggerated accounts of things here. To-day’s reports are that Lee’s Army, 32,000, has surrendered to Grant, and all the men paroled not to fight again during the war. The other report is that Sumterville and Summerton have both been burnt to the ground; of course we do not believe either of them.

_April 21st._ We hear to-day that there has been a fight on the river, and two regiments of blacks under Potter completely cut up.

_April 22nd._ Today’s news is very cheering; it is that Lincoln and Seward have both been assassinated, and that there is to be an Armistice.

(Here the diary-letter ends without signature.)

REMINISCENCES OF MRS. MARY RHODES (WARING) HENAGAN

(_Written in December, 1917, to be Read at a Meeting of The Girls of the Sixties, Columbia, S. C._)

The evacuation of Charleston, crossing of our soldiers over the Santee river, burning the bridge behind them, left the lower part of the State in the power of the Yankees.

My home was in this deserted region. We knew that our enemies were all around and had visited in no kind manner many of the neighboring plantations, but Chelsea, our plantation and winter home, seemed to be exempted. We learned afterward that this was due to the devotion of our slaves.

At last the Yankees did come. Our home, a big old colonial house built in 1714, was packed with refugees run from the coast from their homes earlier in the war. My mother directed each of us to go to my grandmother’s room as soon as we saw the Yankees coming, and meet them in a body there. My grandmother had passed her eightieth mile-stone and was old for her years.

As day after day passed and no Yankees came we felt more at ease. On one particular day in February, 1865, the young folks were sitting in a room removed from the main body of the house, one reading aloud and the others knitting, when my sister-in-law put her head in at the door and exclaimed, “Girls, the Yankees.” There was a rush for the house and my grandmother’s room. Just as we reached it the house was surrounded by an excited crowd of men calling for the Confederate soldier they had seen enter the house. There was no soldier there and they were so informed, but they insisted there was one for they had seen him. Their officers had some trouble in keeping them from searching the house. One officer stood at the front door with my father, who was the physician of the neighborhood, Dr. Morton Waring, and the other at the back door with my mother and her sister. Just then the excitement was relieved by one of our young negro men walking up with a military cap on.

There was no soldier with us just then, only a boy not yet in service.

Our young horses were gone, for the negro boys had taken them all into the swamp a half mile away as soon as the Yankees were in sight. Some of the soldiers were anxious to take my father’s horses that he used for his practice, but this Captain Hulbert, one of their officers, would not permit, telling his men they might need the services of a doctor and he could not get to them if his horses were gone.

Captain Hulbert told my father that his negroes had represented him as such a kind friend to them that the general in command had directed him not to enter his house or permit any outrages, only to free the negroes, as they thought they were slaves until each plantation was visited and the negroes told they were free.

But the soldiers were not satisfied and meant to have something if possible, so they surrounded the smoke house and told one of our negro men to go up and throw out the meat. Of course he obeyed. As my father and Captain Hulbert walked quickly up one of our negroes stepped up to the captain and said, “Please don’t let your men take our meat. This belongs to us negroes.” This was not strictly true as the meat was for us all, but it had the desired effect. The meat was left.

At this time when we were so anxious and worried our negroes showed themselves true friends by concealing our valuables. Different ones would come at night and offer to take anything we would entrust to them and hide it for us. In this way many valuables were entrusted to them which were taken care of and returned after all was safe, in every case under cover of night. Our silver of course was buried by members of the family.

During this same period we were surprised one day by seeing a buggy coming up with two men in it, one wrapped in a blanket, the other, his son, driving. These were Dr. Peter Snowden and his son Charlie. When they drew up in front of the house and asked for my mother she went to them at once and was accosted by one of these gentlemen, both of whom she knew well. He was one of the scouts and had been wounded and taken refuge at the next plantation, but the Yankees hearing of his hiding place were in pursuit of him, so he came to see if my father could help him. My father was not at home, but my mother never hesitated. She made a bed in a small room where my father had hidden much corn and other provisions, and placed a large press in front of the door which it entirely concealed. In this store room our scout was cared for until he was able to go further. While arrangements were being made for him my grandmother called my mother to her and said, “Anne, do you know what you are doing, you have many helpless ones in your care and this piece of kindness may cost you your home?” My mother replied, “It is my duty to protect him. I will do it. God will do the rest.” When my father reached home he commended her action.

If the Yankees ever knew the wounded scout was with us they certainly made no sign indicating they possessed such knowledge.

There were skirmishes about in our neighborhood between the northern troops passing through on their way to Columbia, Camden and other points, and our scouts. These were men sent back to protect the helpless ones left behind. They used a kind of guerilla warfare, but sometimes they had a real open skirmish. One of these was on a plantation near our home and my father was sent for to dress the wound of one soldier, I think a Yankee, another having been killed in the same fight. The mistress[105] of this plantation had two young nieces with her for companionship. Her husband, of course, was away, and her children very small. The older of these girls carried a pistol in her pocket for protection. One day the pistol discharged its contents into her thigh. Only a flesh wound resulted, but it alarmed the family very much. My father was called and after making her comfortable he persuaded her aunt to let him take her home with him. She improved rapidly and was soon able to walk around. Then she thought best to return to her aunt. We had not seen or heard of any Yankees in the neighborhood for several days so my father thought we might venture the trip of two miles in our carriage. My sister and I went with her. As we were crossing the Santee canal about a mile from our house we saw some soldiers on the bridge. Tom, our coachman, drove quietly on, but as soon as we crossed we were halted and our carriage surrounded by blue coats who were rather inquisitive. We had driven right up to a long line of marching Yankees. A portion of Hartwell’s army on its way to the up country. Some of them recognized our friend, having seen her at Harbin, the home of her aunt, so accosted her with “Halloo Leize and Sallie. There are Leize and Sallie.” They had mistaken me for her sister. My sister in a quiet manner and voice asked to speak to their commanding officer. This caused them to stand back while one went for the officer. After a while, which seemed much longer than it really was, the officer (I believe a colonel) rode up and asked her business. She told him we were on our way to a neighboring plantation to make a friendly visit and return, and asked his protection for the trip. He told her he was obliged to detain us where we were for a time, but we should be protected. That as he had to march on with his command he would leave us in charge of a guard. This he did at once, so that in a very short time our guards were the only soldiers in sight except one that was sent back with a dispatch to the Major of the fifty-fifth. While he was waiting for the major and his men to come up he sat at the root of a large pine and played beautiful music on a very sweet flute that he had stolen from one of the plantations. I had heard that flute so often, it belonged to Rene Jervey. As we were circumstanced it was better to assume a friendliness of manner with our guard who was a very polite Canadian named Alfred Brett. He said he was only fighting for his pay, that he did not care which side whipped.

After listening to his yarns for some hours my sister asked him why he was detaining us and how long he meant to keep us there. He replied “I must keep you until General Hartwell’s division passes. He has many regiments of colored troops and if you should meet them I could not answer for the consequences, they are coming by the same road you are going.” My sister said “But if you will allow us, we will return straight home by the same road we came.” He agreed to this and told Tom to hitch up, which Tom did with the sorry horse he gave in place of our beautiful one he stole. He did not wish the other so let us keep him. This certainly gave us a pair of wretchedly matched horses, one large gray and the other a small red hack that loped all the time in harness that was so large it could scarcely be kept on.

While guarding us Mr. Brett had an eye to self. He asked Tom very particularly about one of my father’s sulky horses, a very fine iron gray named “Beauregard,” where he was kept and so on, and said he wanted him. Tom suspecting mischief consulted with our foreman as soon as we reached home and between them they determined to save the horse, and lost no time about it. They took my father into their confidence.

Not long after we reached home and before the excitement caused by our story had subsided my father came driving slowly home behind an old frame of bones in a much bruised horse hide. They had met him at Woodlawn plantation where he had gone professionally and taken his horse. Zeleka would not stand haltered, so we hoped she would come home. Sure enough that night after she had eaten her oats and all was quiet she slipped her halter and started homeward. She had gone quite a long way when one of our scouts caught her. He used her and took care of her until the troubles were over, then returned her to my father.

Early the morning after our capture the whole plantation was thrown into wild excitement. During the night the stable door was unhinged and Beauregard taken, the news spreading through the neighborhood. The doctor could not visit his patients, both of his horses having been taken. Other persons lost their horses too, so he could only go as best he could to the urgent cases. Then the weary weeks of waiting, we could hear nothing of my brother. All we knew was he was with General Young’s brigade wherever that was. Some of the men from St. John’s Parish had gotten home but none had seen or heard of him. The war was over. The army disbanded, and we were still waiting. One memorable day about the middle of April we were gathered in the parlor trying to be cheerful and busying ourselves with mending when our butler stepped into the room and said in a most joyous voice “Mars John.” O, such a rush for the front door where my mother ahead of the rest had her soldier boy in her arms. It was a happy household that night that gathered around the family altar. Some time after this we were again gathered in the parlor. This time chattering of how we were going to make our little serve for a great deal, when we were attracted by the neighing of a horse at the fence near by and looking up saw Beauregard. What a welcome he received. Tom thought it safe for him to come home so released him from his hiding place in the swamp.

No. 280.

REPORT OF BV’T. BRIG. GEN. ALFRED S. HARTWELL, FIFTY-FIFTH MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY, OF OPERATIONS, APRIL 5-15.

(_From pp. 1042-1043, ‘War of Rebln Official Records,’ &c. Series I: Vol. XLVII, Part 1. “Campaign of the Carolinas, etc."_)

Headquarters Provisional Brigade. No. 8 Meeting St., Charleston, S. C., Ap’l. 15, 1865.

Captain: The following is respectfully submitted as the report of the expedition to the Santee River under my command:

In pursuance of orders received from Brig. Gen. John P. Hatch, I caused, on the 5th of April, the Fifty-fourth New York Veteran Volunteers and Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Volunteers to cross from James Island and assemble with a section of the Third New York Artillery at the Four Mile Tavern on the State Road. Starting early on the morning of the 6th inst., I reached Goose Creek at nightfall, and went into bivouac eighteen miles from this city. From this point I sent back for the surplus ammunition. On information from a contraband that there were from thirty to forty Rebel cavalry at a place called Dean Hall I sent, at 5:00 P.M. two companies to attempt to surprise this party. During the night I was notified that these two companies had been misled by the guide, and were awaiting orders near the Twenty-Five Mile House on the State Road. April 7 at 7:00 A.M. I started to Mr. Cain’s, near Black Oak, Santee Canal, some twenty-two miles, sending a detachment to Biggin’s Bridge, who rejoined the column at night, together with the two companies from the Twenty-Five Mile House. Thirty cavalry were in my front having gone from Dean Hall around my flank. I sent two companies to deploy and surround the house in which they were reported to be, and surprise them. The enemy, however, got notice of our approach in season to escape, leaving several blankets and guns, and their supper ready cooked. Mr. Cain had several sons in the Rebel army; he had entertained those who had just gone, and had recently given them a grand dinner; his barn accidentally, or by some unknown incendiary, was burned.

Marched at 7:00 A.M. on the 8th of April, and halted at noon in Pineville for dinner. Reached Mexico at nightfall, and went into bivouac there. Distance marched, about twenty miles.

The people in Pineville implored our protection from the negroes, who were arming themselves and threatening the lives of their masters. Mr. Reno (_sic_) Ravenel requested me to take him with me to save his life. The negroes flocked in from all sides.

At Mexico I found that Mr. Mazyck Porcher had made his house the headquarters of the Rebels in the vicinity. While I was on his grounds his property was protected, but was burned to the ground immediately on my leaving, I think, by his field hands.

April 9, started for Eutaw Creek, thirteen miles distant. Some skirmishing occurred; but dispersed the enemy with a few shells.