^^}}\U.^^ ^vP^^vz^^^>i^>^ 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
si^mmjjn^itoti 
 
THE M'DONALDS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 
 
 A TALE OF SHERMAN'S MARCH. 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY PECK, 
 
 OF GEORGIA, 
 AUTHOR OF "bertha SEELY," "BEATRICE," "CHARLES MARION," 
 
 *' Tristius baud illis monstrum est nee sajvior ulla 
 Pestis et ira Deum, Sty^is sese extulit undis." 
 
 iSeurcateli to V^z American ^People. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 METROPOLITAN RECORD OFFICE, 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1667, by 
 
 JOHN MULLALT, 
 
 in the Clerk's OflQce of the District Comt of the United States for the Southern 
 
 District of New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Page 
 
 Lying in Wait, 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Attempt, 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A Noble Heart under a Blue Coat, 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Titled " Bummer," 60 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Insulting the Flag, Y4 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Atlanta Depopulated, 88 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Coming Tempest, 102 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 The Barbarous Deed, .115 
 
 603184 
 
4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. Page 
 
 "Living OFF THE Country," 122 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Human Hyenas, 136 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Hanging for Gold, 147 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 jVlways Wounded, 161 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 Cashmore on the Track, 1G8 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Last of Cashmore, 1*78 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Conclusion, 190 
 
THE M'DONALDS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 TRE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LYING IN WAIT. 
 
 Although tbe people of tlie South suffered immensely 
 in every portion of her territory during the late Civil War, 
 so fcarfal were their disasters in the line of Shennan's 
 grand march, that the year 1864 and the first part of 
 1865 stand prominent in the annals of their ang-uish. Few 
 of Greorgia and South Carolina can recall the miseries of 
 those days without a mental prayer that the great American 
 people may never again be the sufferers or the perpetrators 
 of similar atrocities. 
 
 It was in the month of May, 1864, when the army of 
 Sherman, under the guidance of that famous or infamous 
 chief— posterity will decide which descriptive he won in 
 that year— began the campaign which resulted in the fall 
 of Atlanta. 
 
6 
 
 From the frontiers of Northern Georgia, and long after 
 the shells of the Federal guns had continued daily to 
 slaughter the women and children of the hard-pressed city, 
 the gallant anny of Confederates had contested every foot 
 of Georgian soil, until, on the night of September 1st, the 
 rush and roar of retreating troops, the explosion of stores 
 of ammunition, and the terrible confusion seen everywhere, 
 announced that General Hood, the Confederate chief, was 
 evacuating the city. 
 
 At that period, the exhausted Confederacy was unable 
 to replenish her depleted ranks, while the heavy losses of 
 the enemy were easily repaired from the millions of the 
 North, aided by the torrent of emigration flowing unceas- 
 ingly from the shores of Europe. Her people had fought 
 until the world raised its hands in wonder ; but the over- 
 whelming odds were fast bearing her patriotic prowess to 
 the dust. 
 
 The metaphorical " anaconda " had become a fact, 
 and one by one the strong bones of the unhappy Con- 
 federacy were crushed — New Orleans, Vicksburg, Nashville, 
 Memphis, Chattanooga, — and now the beautiful Gate City 
 was to writhe in the scaly folds of the monster. qqa, 
 
 For several days it had been feared by the citizens that f^jk 
 their defenders were about to leave the city; still there 
 were hundreds upon whom the certainty fell like a thunder- 
 bolt, and the eagerness to depart filled the streets with 
 confusion. Many succeeded in leaving, and the hospitable 
 
cities of Macon, Augusta, Columbus, and Savannali opened 
 wide their generous arms to shelter these fugitives. 
 
 But there were many who remained. Some of these 
 were renegades to the South, lip-patriots who had fattened 
 upon her vitals, and heaped up riches, snatched from the 
 mouths of her famishing troops and starving people. These 
 prepared to clasp the hands of men whoso daily toil had 
 been to slaughter the kinsmen of these craven-hearted re- 
 creants ; these ran out the flag of the invader from their 
 windows, and made ready their tongues to sputter " loyal 
 sentiments," and to bend their knees to those whose uni- 
 form was drenched in the best blood of the South. 
 
 But there were hundreds who could not follow the 
 retreating army, and among them were Mrs. Preston 
 M'Donald and her daughter Myrtis. They were types of 
 those noble women, the matron and the maiden of the 
 South, whose glory of patriotic fortitude and sacrifice will 
 form themes for the poet and the orator while the memory 
 of the war remains upon the pages of history. 
 
 We may claim a little space to describe them, as they 
 are to be our heroines in this story. 
 
 Mrs. Preston M'Donald, as her name declares, was of 
 the noble and famous families of the South ; related by 
 blood to the Prestons and the Hamptons of South Caro- 
 lina, and by marriage to the M'Donalds of Georgia. A 
 tall and stately lady, whose ebon garb of widowhood added 
 to the dignity and impressiveness of her appearance, and 
 
8 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 ■whose pale and care-worn features had not lost those linea- 
 ments of beauty which had won for her, in her youth, the 
 appellation of the " Belle of Charleston." 
 
 But time, and care, and sorrow for the loss of her hus- 
 band and sons had prematurely blanched her hair and 
 attenuated her form ; yet the fire of her dark and splendid 
 eyes glowed as unsubdued, if not as sparkHng, as when she 
 charmed with her beauty and spirit the gay and gallant 
 fathers of those young heroes who so long and so success- 
 fully defended the Palmetto City from the fleets of Lincoln, 
 or who so bravely immortalized the blood of South Caro- 
 lina upon the soil of Virginia. 
 
 The war had swept from her side a devoted, husband, 
 who sealed his loyalty to Southern independence with his 
 heart's blood at Manassas ; and when Atlanta fell, the 
 widow knew that the reaper Death had cast into bloody 
 graves five of the six daring sons her fond eyes had tear- 
 fully seen hurry from a luxurious home to repel the in- 
 vader. 
 
 The sixth, the last, the youngest, the best-beloved of 
 that idolized band, the laughing, merry-hearted Rutledge, 
 whose lip was scarcely shaded by the beard of early man- 
 hood, who had been called from the poesy of Horace and 
 Virgil to the sterner studies of the camp and field, when 
 last her heart was gladdened by tidings of his welfare, was 
 grasping his sabre under the command and near the person 
 of thatprince of vSontliern cavaliers, General Wade Hampton. 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 9 
 
 War, spoliation, the torch, arbitrary and despotic proc- 
 lamations had robbed her of the wealth which in time of 
 peace she had distributed with that lavish hospitality and 
 princely charity so eminently characteristic of the wealthy 
 Southern matron. The home she had inherited from her 
 father, upon one of those islands early seized by the in- 
 vader, had been despoiled, and desecrated to the use of 
 New England " reverends ; " and in that parlor where her 
 father had entertained the Piockneys, the Rutledges, the 
 Elliots, the Prestons, and hundreds of other bright names 
 of tlie Palmetto State, she knew people, white people of 
 Puritanic descent, taught negTO children to sing 
 
 " The soul of John Brown is marching on. 
 Hallelujah ! " 
 
 Her husband's home in Northern Georgia had been 
 burned to the ground, in obedience to that policy which 
 marked Shermanic warfare, and which commanded that, 
 when a Federal fell by the avenging bullet of some un- 
 known Southerner, all the houses of the unoffending citi- 
 zens, for miles around, should burn to appease the manes 
 of the slain. 
 
 But one daughter, the beautiful Myrtis, had been born 
 to Mrs. Preston McDonald, and that daughter was by her 
 side as she gazed mournfully upon the departing rear-guard 
 of their Confederate defenders. 
 
 It was night ; but the glare of hundreds of torches, and 
 
10 
 
 the blaze of many fires feeding upon army stores, plainly 
 revealed tlie features of the mother and daughter as they 
 stood upon the balcony of their house. Crouching by 
 their side, and peering through the railing of the balcony, 
 was the aged and faithful negress Myra, the last of the 
 scores who, a few years before, called Mrs. M'Donald mis- 
 tress. 
 
 Beautiful as a dream which enchants the soul, Myrtis 
 M'Donald" leaned far over the balcony, as if eagerly seek- 
 ing the face of some beloved one amid that rush of battle- 
 stained troops. Cavalry, infantry, and artillery, with a mob 
 of citizens, all harried on iu hot haste, little heed being 
 given, in all that excitement, to the orders of the command- 
 ing officers. 
 
 " Boys and gray-haired men," said Mrs. M'Donald, as 
 she gazed upon the living torrent ; " the last hope of the 
 State has failed to save Atlanta. Nearly all we see with 
 arms are the militia of Georgia — the old white-headed sires 
 and the beardless boys. They have been snatched from 
 their homes, with the kisses of wives and mothers yet 
 warm upon their cheeks, to battle with the veteran troops 
 of Shennan. How pale, and haggard, and worn they 
 look ! " 
 
 " And should they not, mother ? " asked Myrtis. " For 
 weary weeks they have been lying in the trenches, holding 
 Sherman at bay. Oh, all honor to the noble militia of 
 Georgia ! They have fought like veterans — fought like 
 
OK, THE ASKES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 11 
 
 heroes for their native soil — fought while ragged, half-fam- 
 ished, illy armed, and scarcely able to stand erect." 
 
 " Miss Myrtie, look ober dar," said old Myra, pointing 
 her long, shriveled finger toward a man on the opposite 
 side of the street, peering from a window. 
 
 " Oh, Heaven ! " exclaimed Myrtis M'Donald, clinging 
 to her mother's arm, as her eye fell upon this man ; " I 
 thought he was dead." ^ 
 
 *'And I hoped so," replied Mrs. McDonald. "God 
 forgive me for the wish, but when I heard that a Confederate 
 cavalryman had smitten Seth Cashra ore's head from his 
 shoulders, I prayed that the report might be true." 
 
 " He got a lick, he got a lick, anyhow," said old Myra, 
 chuckling over the fact ; " see de bandage aroun' his head. 
 Pity the 'Federate didn't cut it oflf ! " 
 
 The object of these uncomplimentary remarks, wholly 
 unconscious of the disgust his presence excited upon the 
 balcony, leaned his ungainly form far from the window, 
 eagerly regarding the passing troops. The glare of the 
 flames lighted up a pale and ghastly face embayed in bushy 
 whiskers of inky blackness. The forehead, naturally low 
 and narrow, was made still more so at the moment by the 
 kerchief of black silk bound around his head, leaving 
 scarcely an inch of the brow to be seen above the heavy 
 black eyebrows, beneath which a pair of large, protruding 
 eyes glowed like coals of fire. 
 
 The other features of the repulsive countenance partook 
 
12 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 largely both of the Hebrew and Yankee caste — that lower 
 Hebrew style which speaks only of the mercenary and 
 sensual ; that common Yankee type, which tells of cunning, 
 cruelty, and unscrupulous trickery. The huge, hooked 
 nose of the Jew, and the wide, thin-lipped mouth of the 
 Yankee pedler, united in this ghoul-like face like the dis- 
 tortions of a comic mask, only that there was nothing 
 comic, but much that was cawardly and ferocious, in the 
 visage. 
 
 " My daughter, he must not see us," hastily renaarked 
 Mrs. M'Donald, as she retired from the balcony into the 
 apartment with which it connected. " In, Myrtis, in ! " 
 
 " Mother, though I hate him, I do not fear him ; " 
 replied the daughter. " Besides, I wish — " 
 
 " I know your wish, my child," exclaimed Mrs. M'Don- 
 ald, grasping her arm, and gently forcing her from the 
 balcony. " You wish to exchange a parting word with 
 Captain Bartow, but he may not pass this way — he may have 
 gone already — ^he may not be able to leave the hospital." 
 
 " Oh, mother, do not frighten me. If Frank is able to 
 leave the hospital, he will pass by our house; and if he is 
 not, he must not be abandoned to the Yankees. His very 
 name, Frank Bartow, would bring death upon him." 
 
 " Yonder come Mass' Frank now," said Myra. " 'Way 
 up the street, Miss Myrtie," she continued, as the impulsive 
 girl returned to the balcony. 
 
 "I see him ! I see him ! I would know him am on or a 
 
13 
 
 million ! " exclaimed the young lady, clasping her hands 
 joyfully, and gazing up the street. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! and old ugly ober dar, see him too," mut- 
 tered Myra. "He up to some mischief. Pity Massa 
 Frank gwine to come dis a way. Tears to me, Mr. Cash- 
 more got a pistolum in his hand. Look, missus — ain't he 
 got a pistolum ? Sorter hid like, under his big han' on de 
 winder-sill. Dar ! seed it shine ! " 
 
 " Myrtis, Myrtis ! " exclaimed Mrs. M'Donald, " I be- 
 lieve Myra is right. Cashmore means mischief — ^he has a 
 pistol concealed under his arm and hand, as he leans from 
 the window." 
 
 " He -would not dare shoot at Frank amono^ all those 
 soldiers ! " 
 
 " You know he hates Captain Bartow, and why he- hates 
 him — because you love him," replied Mrs. McDonald. 
 " Strange that he does not look across the street at us ! " 
 
 But Mr. Seth Cashmere's attention was fixed upon the 
 person of a young man wearing the uniform of a captain 
 of Confederate cavalry, who was slowly riding down the 
 street upon a sorry horse, and riding with difficulty, for his 
 right arm was in a sling, and his air that of a man barely 
 convalescent from a serious wound. 
 
 This young man, bearing one of the most illustrious 
 names of Georgia, and not very distantly related by blood 
 to the noble Georgian who fell at the first Manassas, was 
 Captain Frank Bartow, and the accepted lover of the beau- 
 
14 THE MCDONALDS 
 
 tifiil Mjrtis M'Donald. Like his illustrious namesake 
 and kinsman, lie had sprung to anns at the first alarm of 
 war. One of those young heroes of '61, who from mere 
 smooth-faced boys have grown to be stalwart, bearded men 
 amid the smoke of battle, he had gallantly fought through 
 three years and more of the mighty struggle in which, for 
 so long a time, the eight millions of the South had with- 
 stood the twenty milHons of the North, backed by the sur- 
 plus millions of Europe. 
 
 At the first Manassas he had seen the braggart legion^, 
 of McDowell fly like panic-stricken sheep before Johnston 
 and Beauregard ; in the Valley, with immortal Stonewall, 
 he had seen the blue hosts of Fremont and Banks dissolve 
 before the tactics of that great leader like the smoke 
 scattered by the wind ; at Kichmond, for days he had seen 
 the Federal host under McClellan beaten, routed, tossed in 
 confusion to the celebrated " change of base " by the sol- 
 diers of Lee, of the Hills, of Jackson, and Johnston, and 
 of other great names which every heart of the South bears 
 engraved in letters of love and honor upon its most sacred 
 tablets. 
 
 Wounded again and again, as soon as recovered he had 
 returned to the camp and field, until circumstances placed 
 him in July, 1864, severely wounded in the right shoulder, 
 in one of the hospitals of Atlanta. Convalescing there, 
 under the careful attention of the ladies of Atlanta, and 
 the relief committees fi'om every part of the patriotic State, 
 
15 
 
 \vc see liiin, in the glare of torches and of the flames of 
 burning houses, slowly making his way along the fugitive- 
 crowded street, over which extended the balcony of the 
 last remaining house of the M'Donalds. 
 
 Seth Cashmore had no sooner recognized this young 
 man, who presented a noble and martial figure, despite his 
 feebleness, than his protuberant eyes seemed to grow 
 larger, and to gleam more fiercely. Less cautious than be- 
 fore, he moved his arm so that Mrs. M'Donald no longer 
 had any doubt that he had a pistol, while his eager and 
 restless air denoted an intention to attempt some daring 
 deed. 
 
 " Mother, he certainly means evil to Frank ! " exclaimed 
 Myrtis. " How shall we warn poor Frank, whose whole 
 attention is occupied in forcing a way through the crowd ? 
 I must try to save him." 
 
 With these words, and not pausing to heed the expos- 
 tulations of her mother, the brave young lady rushed back 
 into the apartment, and thence to a flight of stairs, which 
 she descended in heedless and dangerous haste. 
 
 A moment after, Mrs.jJ^I'Donald beheld her white hands 
 stretching toward the young cavalryman, as her dark robe 
 was lost to sight in the crowd. 
 
 "Heaven guard my child!" thought the unhappy mo- 
 ther. " Oh, why should she be so rash ? She may fall, 
 and be trampled to death." 
 
 Straining her eyes, she now and then caught a glimpse 
 
16 
 
 of the dark glossy curls of her daughter, apparently tossed 
 here and there in the current of that linng stream, or 
 thought that she saw them, as Myrtis struggled on against 
 the tide of fugitives, above which rose the roar of flames, 
 the explosion of army stores in various parts of the city, 
 the fierce and impatient cries of the soldiers and citizens, 
 and the shrill screams of women and children. 
 
 " My God ! she will be crushed to death ! " exclaimed 
 the mother. " Myra ! Myra ! what shall we do ? " 
 
 She turned toward that part of the balcony in which 
 she had last seen the old negi-ess, and started with alarm 
 as she saw that it was vacant. 
 
 The negress had disappeared. Unseen by her mistress, 
 Myra had glided away in pursuit of Mjrtis, and now was 
 but a struo^dinor atom in that sea of confasion. 
 
 " I can but pray," murmured Mrs. M'Donald, raising 
 her eyes to heaven in eloquent though wordless supplica- 
 tion for the preservation of her child. 
 
 Numberless had been the prayers spoken by her pious 
 lips, since the dread war had shattered the golden harp of 
 domestic harmony and happiness, and she had shed bitter 
 tears over the untimely death of her beloved husband, and 
 over the still more untimely deaths of her live noble sons, 
 as one by one they fell before the sword of the invader ; 
 but never had her faith in the wisdom and mercy of Heav- 
 en been shaken. " The will of God be done ! " she said, 
 as she wept and when the first fierce tempest of grief had 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 17 
 
 swept throngli her soul. She prayed on and trusted 
 ever. 
 
 The unshaken piety and pure morality of the women 
 of the South throughout that terrible war, form two of the 
 noblest, most admirable jewels in that crown of patriotic 
 glory with which applauding posterity and truthful history 
 will honor the mothers and daughters of "The Land we 
 love," the oppressed and conquered Land of the South. 
 
 The men of the South, fired by their love for .glory, or 
 by ambition, or by the warlike ardor inherent with their 
 birth, rushed to battle to lose the agony of separation from 
 home and its ties, amid the excitements of the hurried march, 
 the war of conflict, and the toils of the retreat. It was the 
 infinitely more painful fate of the women of the South, to 
 behold theu* beloved ones borne home, wounded or dead ; 
 to see their wounded restored to health, only to see them 
 return to the perils of war ; to mourn over their memory as 
 they rested in bloody and unknown graves ; or to behold 
 even the gTaves of their beloved dead desecrated by hyena- 
 hke invaders profaning the tomb in lawless, brutal search for 
 Southern gold ; to meet the bully, the ruflaan, the tyrant 
 soldiers of the North, at their defenceless thresholds ; to 
 hear their ribald m suits; to submit to their commanded 
 plundering; to witness the flames of their homes; to see 
 their little children growing thin and pale, and ragged, 
 under the hand of want, thrust upon them with the point 
 of the bayonet ; to bear witness before the world and Hcav- 
 
18 THE m'dONALDS 
 
 en, that the wish of the Abolition editors of the North 
 had been made fact by the generals they had bayed into 
 ojQfice — " the time when the women of the South should 
 grow pale and haggard with hunger, and turn helpless eyes 
 upon their starving children crying for bread." 
 
 Such was the trial, and more from which our pen 
 recoils, forced upon the patriotic women of the South. 
 
 And they bore it unflinchingly, for their patriotism was 
 as pure as the light of heaven. 
 
 But we must not pause here to eulogize that which 
 rises far above all eulogy. Mrs. Preston M'Donald, in her 
 brilliant virtues of piety, patience, fortitude, and enduring 
 patriotism, is but a type of the Southern women of South- 
 ern homes, from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, and from 
 the sea to the Ohio, and wherever beats the Southern 
 heart. 
 
 Seth Cashmore, one of those base and vampire spirits 
 which flitted through the night of Civil War, and battened 
 upon the wants of the impoverished South, a speculator 
 in the necessaries of life, one who thoujyht more of a sack 
 of salt than of a nationality, and who trampled upon every 
 noble principle in his devilish greed for money, had grown 
 rich at the South long before the sword was put to South- 
 em throats by Northern fanaticism. Originally a pedler, 
 then a " drummer," then an agent, then a flourishing mer- 
 chant, and, when the war began, a slaveholder, and one of 
 the infamous kind, unable to understanrl, or too unprinci- 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 19 
 
 pled to regard that peculiar mstitution of the land he dis- 
 graced, he cursed his adopted country. 
 
 But he soon turned his negi'oes into gold, and having 
 unshaken confidence in the prowess of the North, he care- 
 fully abstained from all politics, bending all his energies to 
 to the safer and more remunerative labor of the speculator. 
 
 But every fibre of his soul had been smitten by the 
 beauty of Myrtis M'Donald, whose early lovehness he had 
 remarked when she was but a child. There was nothing 
 in his face or form to create liking, much less love, and yet 
 he, like all extremely ugly men, believed he had many 
 notable points of beauty. Besides, he was rich, and the 
 time, when the M'Donalds were richer than he, had passed. 
 Some men become infatuated with an idea, and in riding a 
 hobby commit a thousand incredible follies. For that idea 
 they have plunged a nation into a sea of ruin. But 
 Seth Cash m ore's idea savored nothing of politics. True, 
 he hated the South and the Southerners. That was natu- 
 ral, for he hailed from the very shadow of the Rock of 
 Plymouth, and probably played marbles with young free 
 negroes in his youth. But his idea was to be the husband 
 of the handsomest woman in the South, to take her North, 
 to parade the Southern belle as his captive, to tell how that 
 beauty was of the first families of Republican aristocracy ; 
 and, having concluded that Miss Myitis M'Donald was the 
 loveliest girl in Dixie, he had resolved to make her his wife. 
 In forming this resolution he dwelt so long upon it, that 
 
20 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 tlie resolve became his idea, his passion, and, as he believed, 
 his destiny. 
 
 Poverty, extreme poverty, had fallen upon the McDon- 
 alds during the siege of Atlanta. There had been times 
 when for days both mother and daughter had Hved upon 
 meal and water. 
 
 It cannot be denied that at such times of distress they 
 remembered the lavish profusion of the M'Donald table in 
 times of peace ; remembered it with heavy hearts, and 
 eager longings for that by-gone abundance. Yet their 
 patriotism never wavered nor faltered. Had Atlanta been 
 a walled city, and had the warfare been that of ancient 
 days, history would have recorded that the fiery patriotism 
 of the women of the South was no less than that of the 
 women of Carthage, or Rome, or Greece. 
 
 It was in these days of suffering that Seth Cashmore 
 bad built high hopes of success, and in the guise of a 
 sincere friend he had visited the poverty-stricken family. 
 The widow needed a friend, the maiden needed a protector. 
 He would be that friend ; he would be that protector ; in- 
 deed, he would be the guardian angel of that house, shel- 
 tering beneath his shielding wings even the humble negress. 
 
 The speculator, had he been sincere, would have gained 
 esteem and gratitude, and perhaps friendship — though there 
 was a curse upon him from Nature's hand, an intrusive, 
 bustUng air of pompous pretension, which repelled friend- 
 ship, and produced indifference "if not dislike — dislike if 
 
21 
 
 not disgust, and disgust if not hate. The rumor of his 
 many deeds of grinding oppression upon the wives and 
 children of Confederate soldiers, had preceded his intrusion 
 upon the poverty of the M'Donalds, and they met his prof- 
 fers of assistance with a dignified refusal. But Seth Cash- 
 more was not a man to be rebuffed by dignified bearing. 
 He was of that lower stratum of mortaUty which must 
 have its nose pulled, or its face slapped, or perceive the 
 uprising of an indignant foot, before it can be made to 
 understand that it is an object of contempt. 
 
 The M'Donalds, steeped to the lips in poverty, all the 
 more feeble in the fierce struggle between Pride and Want, 
 because they had been precipitated from affluence to penury, 
 were forced to accept his pretended generosity, and as he, 
 like all his class, possessed a wheedling, persuasive tongue, 
 he gradually beat down the barriers of dislike and disgust 
 encountered on his first approach. 
 
 Had he paused there, Seth Cashmore might have dwelt 
 upon the minds of the M'Donalds as a kind and charitable 
 man, and found himself so esteemed by them, at least. 
 But presuming, as viler natures ever will, upon the warmth 
 of grateful words, he mistook his worth and demanded love. 
 
 It was to Mrs. Preston M'Donald that the speculator 
 made known his aspirations, and though the propositions, 
 however elegantly expressed, would have startled her, they 
 were revolting to every refined sentiment of her soul as he 
 declared them. 
 
22 TUE MCDONALDS; 
 
 " Mrs. M'Donald, I have a proposal to make," he said, 
 in advancing his desires, and speaking in the same tone 
 and manner he would have used in buying or selling any 
 of the articles in which he speculated. " You see you and 
 Miss Myrtis are very hard up. You have lost every thing, 
 down to that old nigger woman, who wouldn't fetch two 
 hundred dollars in Confed'. Now, I am quite, or more so, 
 well oft'. Miss Myrtis pleases my notion — she does, and 
 if you and she have no objection, I am ready." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mr. Cashmore ! " exclaimed 
 the surprised widow. 
 
 " Well, I ain't so clear in expressing myself in a thing 
 of this kind, as I am in taking salt by the car-load," said 
 Seth, quailing a little before a sudden fire which he had 
 never seen in those handsome dark eyes until then. " You 
 see I am a bachelor, going on right smartly toward forty 
 years, though you may look my head over for a month and 
 never find a gray hair — and I think I can aff'ord to marry, 
 in spite of the war ; and, of all the women, old or young. 
 Miss Myrtis caps my idea of what I want my wife to be. 
 You are all living very hard, and the Yankees will soon 
 make it harder. Atlanta's bound to go up, so's the Con- 
 federacy." 
 
 " Mr. Cashmore," interrupted Mrs. M'Donald, " my 
 daughter has not been informed." 
 
 " That'll all be right ! " broke in Cashmore, with a 
 broad, coarse laugh of cunning. " I only want your con- 
 
23 
 
 sent first, and I think you and me can soon manage tlie 
 rest." 
 
 " Mr. Cashmore, I am very glad to learn that my daugh- 
 ter has been spared the mortification of any advances up- 
 on your part," replied Mrs. M'Donald, in a stately tone, 
 which vibrated through his soul and gave him a keen ap- 
 preciation of his insignificance. " Miss Myrtis M'Donald 
 is the aflSanced wife of Captain Frank Bartow, and of 
 course this conversation must cease." 
 
 " AflSanced wife ? Oh, that means she is already 
 spoken for. Yes, I have heard that he was a little spooney 
 about Miss Myrtis. But that's all a mere trifle. You and 
 me—" 
 
 " Mr. Cashmore, you have twice coupled my name with 
 yours. I reject this proposed intimacy. Do not speak to 
 me again upon this subject ; and, since you have spoken 
 as you have, sir, I have no desire to hear you upon any 
 subject." 
 
 " Just so," sneered the rebuked speculator, at last rec- 
 o'^nizing his position. " But I guess you'll think better 
 before many days. This is always the way with you once 
 * somebodies ' of the South. No more gratitude for charity 
 than cows for cabbage — " 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald did not remain to listen to the coarse 
 insults of the angry speculator, but swept from the room, 
 leaving him to vent his spleen upon the bare walls. 
 
 They were bare, and this fact formed the burden of 
 
24 
 
 the wretched creature's soliloquy as he drew on his gloves 
 to depart. 
 
 " She's as proud as if she had a thousand niggers, as 
 many as that rehel kinsman of hers, Wade Hampton, 
 whom I hope Phil Sheridan will catch and hang very soon. 
 Proud of what, Pd like to know ? Proud of this empty 
 house — it's all she's got, and I hold a mortgage on it 
 Bare floors, bare walls! Tore up your carpets to make 
 blankets for rebel rascals, eh ? Tore down your curtains 
 to make shirts and the like for rebel dogs, eh ? Tore out 
 the lead window-weights to make bullets for rebel mus- 
 kets, eh ? Sold all your ornaments and paintings, except 
 your family portraits, to buy Confederate bonds, to bolster 
 up old Memminger's shinplasters, eh ? Sold and gave 
 away all your plate and jeweliy to aid the Southern Con- 
 federacy, eh ? Gave all your fine linen to wounded rebels, 
 eh? Wear homespun and coarse jeans, and eat meal and 
 drink water for love of Southern independence, eh ? More 
 fool you, and all like you. Wait until old Sherman turns 
 his boys loose on your ragged, worm-eaten Confederacy, 
 and you will understand what patriotism means. He 
 wasn't Pxamed Tecumseh for nothing, mind that. I am 
 turned off, am I ? Very well, I think this establishment 
 owes me something. As for the mortgage, that'll have to 
 rest until after the war." 
 
 Consoling his wounded vanity with these savory mor- 
 sels of reflection, Mr. Seth Cashmore returned to his store 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 25 
 
 and amused himself with the woes and wants of scores of 
 famishing women and children, as he drove extortion- 
 ate bargains with them for the relics of their former 
 means. 
 
 But his evil fortune would not allow him to remain sat- 
 isfied with the dismissal from Mrs. M'Donald, and the more 
 he dwelt upon that fact the more he resolved to persevere. 
 The dismissal made the object of his passion more valuable 
 in his eyes, and he had effrontery enough to propose to Miss 
 Myrtis. Being rejected very politely by the young lady, 
 he pressed his claims with such vehemence as to arouse 
 her anger, and then he received so severe a reprimand for 
 his boldness and coarseness, that he retorted with threats 
 and sneers. 
 
 This happened a few days before Captain Bartow was 
 wounded, as we have already stated, and Mr. Setli Cash- 
 more's conduct was duly reported to the young cavalry- 
 man by old Myra, in a moment of indignation. 
 
 Mr. Cashmore, in walking Whitehall Street one evening, 
 after personally dunning Mrs. M'Donald for what he had 
 done in the way of meal, flour, etc., as a friend, claiming 
 its value as a debt, since his alhance was refused, was over- 
 taken by a tall young gentleman with a fierce mustache, 
 and a fiercer pair of hazel eyes, who wore the uniform of a 
 Confederate captain. 
 
 A smart tap upon the shoulder caused Mr. Cashmore 
 to pause and face this gentleman, who was unknown to him. 
 
26 
 
 "Mr. Seth Cashmore, I believe?" said the oflBcer, 
 in a very steady tone, though his eyes sparkled omi- 
 nously. 
 
 " Yes, I am Seth Cashmore. Who are you ? '' replied 
 the pompous and coarse-mannered speculator, not perceiv- 
 ing that the ofiScer held something behind him, that some- 
 thing being very similar to that implement which Brooks 
 of South Carolina introduced to the notice of Charles Sum- 
 ner of Massachusetts. 
 
 " I am Frank Bartow, captain in the Confederate ser- 
 vice. You have heard of me, I imagine. I think it my 
 duty to inform you publicly, that you are a cowardly scoun- 
 drel, and deserve a pubhc flogging." 
 
 With these words Frank Bartow grasped Seth Cash- 
 more by the whiskers, and then and there administered 
 one of the heartiest and severest castigations ever received 
 by a speculator, and which was received by Seth Cashmore 
 with divers yells and contortions delightful to hear and to 
 behold. 
 
 The administration of justice did not cease until the 
 implement used was shattered to the grasp of the in- 
 flictor. 
 
 On beinof freed from the iron clutch of that indiojnant 
 hand, Mr. Seth Cashmore did not anticipate the stoical 
 philosophy of Grinnell, lately dressed in a similar style of 
 stripes by General Rousseau. He did not stoop to pick 
 up one of the fragments of the cane shattered upon his 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES 27 
 
 face, and say, " I will take this home to my wife," as did 
 Mr. Grinnell, for Setli had no wife, nor had he tlie stoicism 
 of that milk-and-water Congressman, but he had heels, and 
 he took to tliem with an alacrity truly refreshing to behold, 
 pursued by the hoots and screams of half a regiment of 
 derisive urchins of Atlanta. 
 
 Seth Cashmore was of too malicious and revengeful a 
 nature not to resent this just punishment, but he was spi- 
 der-like in his resentment. He plotted and waited. lie 
 wove his web and watched. 
 
 A few days after this scene Captain Frank Bar- 
 tow was severely wounded, and became an inmate of 
 the hospital. Thus Seth Cashmore derived some com- 
 fort; but he felt that he could not go whining about, 
 showinor his scars in the fashion of the before-men- 
 
 o 
 
 tioned Charles Sumner, and that nothing less than 
 the death of his enemy could soothe his aches and 
 bruises. 
 
 To add to his desire for revenge, it chanced that he 
 aroused the ire of a cavalryman in attempting to overreach 
 the soldier in a tobacco trade, and thereupon received a sar 
 bre-cut on the head, which laid him out as dead for hours. 
 On regaining his senses he learned that one of his stores 
 had been plundered, even to the cellar, by cavalrymen. 
 Therefore he had Httle love for cavalrymen, and especially 
 for Captain Bartow, to yhom he falsely attributed all his 
 calamities. 
 
28 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 The reader may now perceive why Mr. Seth Caslimore 
 watched with evil intent as Frank Bartow slowly rode down 
 that crowded street of Atlanta, on the night of September 
 1st, 1864. 
 
29 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE ATTEMPT. 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore was well informed of the move- 
 ments going on throughout the city, and having resolved 
 to cast himself into the Federal bosom, and knowing that 
 the M'Donalds were unable to leave the city before the 
 Federals would march in, determined to have one shot at 
 least at the lover of Myrtis. 
 
 He had seen the mother and daughter on the balcony 
 long before they perceived him, and knew very well why 
 Myrtis McDonald gazed so eagerly up the street, but it was 
 no part of his plans that they should suspect that he had 
 seen, or was thinking of them. He knew that Captain Bar- 
 tow would pass along that street, and pause beneath that 
 balcony to bid farewell to Miss McDonald, and he felt con- 
 fident that he could drive a ball through the lover's body — 
 firing from that window. He had calculated all the 
 chances for escape, and had his cunning hiding-places if 
 pursued. But amid all that confusion, with the rear-guard 
 of the Confederate army evacuating — that rear-guard prin- 
 
30 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 cipally undisciplined militia — the whole city in alarm and 
 disorder, a victorious army ready to dash in to plunder the 
 place, the disturbance incident to the vast destruction al- 
 ready gomg on — with all these to obscure the deed and 
 aid his hiding until no Confederate remained to avenge, 
 there was, apparently, little danger in making a leaden pel- 
 let settle his difficulty very satisfactorily with Captain Frank 
 Bartow. 
 
 It was veiy true that the M'Donalds might, and in all 
 probability would know Seth Cashmore to be the assassin. 
 No care for that. They would be more than ever at his 
 mercy within twenty-four hours, for he had powerful friends 
 out there in that great Federal army, raging to leap upon 
 the defenceless city — indeed, his services as a spy in the 
 Confederate camp were well known to Sherman hunself, 
 and his name was recorded yonder at Washington in the 
 shadow of the great man w^ho "rang a little bell," as a 
 good and loyal Union man. 
 
 To kill a rebel captain, then, would be a card of honor 
 for Mr. Seth Cashmore, although the deed might well be 
 called rank assassination, and place him still higher in the 
 esteem of some of his Federal friends. 
 
 The house in which he lurked was empty. Its former 
 occupants had fled, after losing a mother and a little child 
 by the explosion of one of Sherman's missiles of love and 
 humanity, so much in unison with that policy with which 
 he waged the war for the restoration of the Union. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 31 
 
 Leading from the yard in the rear of the house was a 
 narrow alley, opening upon a back street. The deed ac- 
 complished, he could easily fly through the house, the yard, 
 the alley, and from the street find one of his hiding-places, 
 among other " loyal Union men," who were impatiently 
 awaiting the hour when they could fling to the breeze those 
 long-hidden flags of stars and stripes. 
 
 Thus confident, he awaited the slow approach of his in- 
 tended victim. 
 
 Captain Frank Bartow's attention had been fully occu- 
 pied in picking his way along the rushing mass, until he 
 reached a spot about fifty yards distant from the residence 
 of the M'Donalds, when he raised his eyes and looked tow- 
 ard the balcony. He saw the well-known form and face 
 of Mrs. M'Donald, and supposed that his betrothed was 
 also there. The crowd, from some unknown cause, now 
 seemed to recoil upon itself, and thus a dense mass of horses 
 and human beings was held almost stationary between him 
 and the balcony, while the cries of impatience and confu- 
 sion were redoubled. 
 
 No doubt there were many in the mob eager to reach 
 the burning stores, that they might plunder. There were 
 many half-famished women there who had heard that army 
 stores of meal, flour, and meat were being given away, 
 thrown away, destroyed, and they added the clamor of 
 their shrill voices to the sounds of the tumult. 
 
 Upon these poor creatures, who were half crazed by 
 
32 
 
 the tciiiblc calamities war bad forced upou them, Frank 
 Bartow bent a pitying gaze. But in casting his eyes 
 about they suddenly encountered a face, the sight of which 
 caused his heart to leap to his throat. There in the very 
 centre of the crowd, whither her struggles had forced her, 
 be recognized the beautiful face of Myrtis M'Donald, and 
 though he could not distinguish her words, he knew she 
 was speaking, and earnestly, while with one hand she 
 pointed toward some object above the street. 
 
 The progress of the throng had now carried him within 
 twenty yards of the balcony. Myrtis M'Donald had found 
 it impossible to stem the torrent which swept fiercely tow- 
 ard the burning stores. The cun-ent had overcome her 
 strength and begun to bear her along with it. 
 
 She would have fallen and probably have perished 
 there, had not old Myra, strong though aged, now reached 
 her side and battled to aid her in regaining the pavement. 
 
 It was at that moment that Frank Bartow recognized 
 his betrothed, and noticed that she was pointing at some- 
 thing: above the level of the crowd. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. M'Donald had succeeded in distin- 
 guishing the head of her daughter, just as the faithful Myra 
 had forced her way to the side of her young mistress. She 
 could see that her daughter was gesticulating violently, and 
 pointing toward the window occupied by Seth Cashmore. 
 Turning her own eyes in that direction, she saw Cashmore 
 grasp and level his pistol — saw the flash, but could not dis- 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 
 
 33 
 
 tinguish the report amid that Babel of sounds, especially as 
 Cashmore had stepped a pace or two back from the window 
 at the instant before he fired. She then glanced toward 
 Captain Frank Bartow and saw that he was lying with his 
 face upon the neck of his horse, and apparently clinging to 
 the mane of the animal, as if wounded. 
 
 " Oh Heaven ! Frank Bartow is shot ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 M'Donald. 
 
 But this apprehension was removed the next instant, 
 as she saw the young officer resume his erect seat in the 
 saddle and extend his hand toward My rtis M'Donald, with 
 a smile upon his face. 
 
 But Seth Cashmore darted fi'om the window rejoicing 
 in the belief that his shot had proved true. He had seen 
 Captain Bartow fall upon the neck of his horse at the in- 
 stant he drew trigger, and, supposing that he had severely, 
 if not mortally, wounded him, instantly betook himself to 
 flight. Captain Bartow, however, had seen him level the 
 pistol, and, accustomed to such attacks, threw himself out 
 of range, and escaped unhurt. 
 
 "I owe my life to your devotion, My rtis," he said, as 
 he at length reached her side and clasped her hand. " Had 
 I not seen your warning at the instant I did, that coward's 
 bullet would have struck me down." 
 
 " And but for the assistance of our brave old Myra," 
 replied Miss M'Donald, warmly, " I would have fallen and 
 been trampled upon before I caught your eye." 
 
34: THE m'dONALDS 
 
 They were now immediately under the balcony, and 
 Mrs. McDonald, leaning over, cried out : 
 
 " Come up, my daughter ! Come up, Captain Bartow." 
 
 " Unless your mother can invent some way by which T 
 can cany my horse up with me," said Captain Bartow, 
 with a smile, to Myrtis, "I must decline the invitation. 
 My horse is a very sorry one, though I gave a fine gold 
 watch for him, and he is my only means of leaving the 
 city. The Yankees will occupy the city before to-morrow 
 night, and I have no desire to try the Federal hospitalities 
 of Camp Chase, or Fort Delaware, or any other quarters of 
 that kind. Had I been able to attend to this matter, I 
 would have pronded means for you and your mother to 
 leave the city." 
 
 '• Oh, we both know that, Frank," replied Miss McDon- 
 ald. " But until to-day dear mother has been confined to 
 her bed, for nearly a week, and is not strong enough to 
 encounter the fatigue of a flight. Besides, we seem to be 
 followed by misfortune in the shape of Yankees." 
 
 " An', Lor' bless my soul ! " broke in old Myra, with 
 the privilege of a faithful sciTant, " dem Yankees is de 
 greatest misfortune dat eber cussed de Souf. Massa Frank, 
 we refugeed from the islan's, case dem Yankees gib de old 
 family home to niggers for a schoolhous' — drat all sich 
 idees ! then we refugeed from Rome, case de Yankees 
 piled in dar, and now the Yankees gwine to pile in he-yar ! 
 Why can't dey jus mind dar own illegitimate business." 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 35 
 
 " It is the business of the Yankee to mind the business 
 of others — at least they so construe the Constitution," said 
 Captain Bartow. " But, Myrtis, as soon as the health of 
 your mother will permit, I hope you will leave Atlanta." 
 
 " To go where, my dear sir ? " asked Mrs. McDonald, 
 who, finding that the lovers would not ascend to the bal- 
 cony, had descended to take part in the conversation. 
 " This is our last house, if indeed we may claim it as ours, 
 for I have heard that Seth Cashmore says that he holds a 
 mortgage on it. I know my husband once had dealings 
 with this fellow Cashmore — it was in 1861, to raise money 
 in uniforming and equipping military companies, and per- 
 haps Cashmore does hold a mortgage. Our home on the 
 islands is in Yankee and negro hands ; our home in Rome, 
 and our plantation in Cherokee, are also in the same hos- 
 tile possession. Our relatives in Georgia and in South 
 Carolina are all hard pressed, many ruined. I think some- 
 what seriously of going to Columbia, South Carolina, 
 where — " 
 
 " Dem Yankees gwine dar sure ! " cried old Myra, who 
 was as good a prophetess as could be found in any editor's 
 sanctum, and better than the majority. " I tell you, 
 missus, dar's no use a try in' to run from dem blue locusses 
 — day gwine to swarm ober and devour de fat and de lean 
 ob de Souf. Dat's what God made dem for — dcy's a cuss ! 
 Columby ? Why de Yankees would go clean crazy, missus, 
 if dis war ended widout a chance to ruinate and abominate 
 
36 
 
 Columby. De Yankees hates all the Souf, but the Lor' ! 
 hate ain't de word for what dey thinks ob de Souf 
 K'leenians! You go to Columby, an' dar'll you'll see 
 Sodom an' Jeremiah de way de Yankees fixes it up. Mind 
 old mommie — she's a nigger, but she knows de Yankees 
 from de har ob dare head to de horn ob dare heel. 'Sides, 
 she knows General Sherman." 
 
 " Ah ! you have that pleasure ! " said Captain Bartow, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I knows him ! I knows him ! " cried old Myra, wag- 
 ging her head ; " missus does too." 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 "Yes, missus. Do we forget that time you visited 
 Louisiana? General Sherman used to keep school dar. 
 He came Souf to make an honest livin' ; s'pose he found 
 no chance to do dat in the Norf, so he teached de Louisi- 
 ana children how to read an' write, an' skypher, an' all dat 
 sort ob thing. He made money at dat — de Yankees make 
 money at pisening bed-bugs — course he make money and 
 go back to de N'orf. Now he turn up wid a million and a 
 haf of blue locusses wid de intention ob makin' us see stars 
 and feel de stripes ob de flag ob de Union ! I seed him 
 in Louisiana — keen, little eyes — sharp! You look out, 
 folkses!" 
 
 While the old negress continued to rattle off her ideas 
 of the here of the Grand March, Captain Bartow advised 
 Mrs. M'Donald not to go to Columbia. 
 
37 
 
 Heaven only knows where Shennan may halt," said 
 he. " Now that Atlanta falls into his hands, he may push 
 sti'aight on for Augusta, and thence to Columbia. Tlie 
 State of Georgia is now at his mercy ; he may not know 
 it, and may delay here in Atlanta for months, merely to 
 ravage the country. The Fates are plainly against our 
 cause at this time, though the wheel of Fortune may take 
 a turn and bring us uppermost. Let us hope so, at least, 
 and continue the struggle as long as the Army of Vu'ginia 
 and its heroic generals bear up our sinking flag. I shall 
 soon be strong enough, I hope, to take the field again." 
 
 " Ah, you are ever mindful of the dying words of the 
 noble Francis Bartow : ' They've killed me, boys — ^but never 
 give it up I ' Brave and gallant gentleman, I knew him 
 well. ' I go to illustrate Georgia ; ' and nobly did your 
 gallant kinsman illustrate his State ; and if ever the time 
 comes when no Yankee satrap can issue orders which in 
 Southern ears sound like hyenas growling over the bones 
 of dead men, Georgia's sons and daughters will vie in 
 erecting a stately monument to the memory of her noble 
 dead, among whose hallowed names the least shall not be 
 General Francis S. Bartow." 
 
 " He died like a Bayard," replied the young ofllcer, 
 " and in the first great battle of the war. May the same 
 noble pride in the honor and integi-ity of his State, and the 
 same high Southern patriotism be mine, though my life 
 like his, should seal that devotion ! " 
 
38 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 "Massa General Bartow bery rash, bery rash," said old 
 Myra, " doe I mus' say dat anybody what puts hisself in de 
 way ob bullets, is rash. S'pose dat's patriotism. All right. 
 Got to whip dem blue locusses or hab noffin lef to pray 
 for. But no need, Massa Frank, of yer bcin' preboister- 
 ously rash in dat way." 
 
 " The blue locusts you speak of, Myra, compel us to be 
 rash. Their guns are of such long range, and shoot so 
 many times, that our soldiers do not have fair play. But I 
 must now bid you farewell, Mrs. M'Donald. I expect to 
 join the command of General "VYheeler, as soon as I can 
 bear fatigue. Should you leave Atlanta, try to communi- 
 cate with me. It is diflBcult to advise you where to go for 
 permanent safety. The whole State will probably be over- 
 run by marauding parties, as that is the policy of the 
 Federal generals. But excuse me for the presumption, 
 what Confederate money may you have ? " 
 
 "That is soon answered, Frank," exclaimed Myrtis, 
 with less pride than her mother in the matter. " Seth 
 Cashmore received our last Confederate dollar, or rather his 
 clerk, yesterday, in payment of what Cashmore called a gift 
 when he brought it to our house." 
 
 " And you are remaining in Atlanta without a dol- 
 lar?" 
 
 "At least, there are hundreds as poor," said Mrs. 
 M'Donald. " True, we have a few family relics in the shape 
 of mourning rings, aud I think Myrtis has a golden napkin 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 39 
 
 ring which General John Preston gave her when her first 
 birthday came round." 
 
 "You cannot live long upon them," remarked Captain 
 Bartow, drawing a ring from his finger. " Will Myrtis ac- 
 cept this from Frank, who may never see her again ? It is 
 a diamond, and I think valued at two hundred dollars in 
 gold, before the war — " 
 
 "Oh, Frank! it was your father's?" cried Myrtis. 
 
 " Very true. It is really all the Yankees have left of 
 all he gave me, except bare land and black ashes," replied 
 the young ofiicer ; " and if I wear it, it is very probable 
 they may rifle me of that, for I anticipate hot cavaliy fight- 
 ing under Wheeler; and like General Joe Johnston, it is 
 always my luck to be wounded. Keep it, my dear girl — it 
 may go far to aid you and your mother during the dark 
 days ahead. No ! I will not take it back." 
 
 Perceiving the firmness of his tone, and knowing him 
 to be very resolute, the beautiful girl placed it upon her 
 thumb, her tiny fingers being all too small for the ring, and 
 resolved that nothing save grim starvation in all its horrors, 
 should force it from her. 
 
 " Farewell ! and may Heaven guard you, Mrs. M'Donald, 
 and grant you a speedy deliverance from the mercies of 
 Sherman and his army. And you, too, dear Myrtis." 
 
 He bent from the saddle, and pressed a respectful kiss 
 upon the cheek of the weeping widow, whose firmness gave 
 way in parting with one who seemed almost a son. 
 
40 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 Regardless of the place and the time, the warm-hearted 
 Southern gh-1 threw her white arms around her lover's 
 neck, and unable to utter the forewell so faintly spoken by 
 her mother, pressed her lips close to his in that kiss of love 
 which expresses both despair and undying devotion ; for 
 there were a thousand chances to one, against the probabili- 
 ty of meeting him again. 
 
 She knew his headlong, reckless bravery in battle — his 
 eagerness to seek danger, if that danger might carry his 
 sword to the heart of a foe ; his readiness to volunteer 
 upon every perilous enterprise; his contempt for heavy 
 odds of arms or numbers. All this was proved by a score 
 of wounds, serious or slight, which he had received. She 
 knew that bitter hate and cruel wrongs urged him to strike 
 the invader, and that this intense personal feeling was 
 equalled by as pm*e and proud a patriotism as ever burned 
 in a soldier's heart. 
 
 Of those wrongs we may speak hereafter, though the 
 young oflScer was not one to vent his feelings in words, and 
 seldom spoke of his individual wrongs. 
 
 ** Good-by ! " he said — the plain, simple word of adieu 
 ever rises from the heart, instead of the more stately 
 phrase " farewell," when loving ones are parting — " good- 
 by, and God bless you all ! " 
 
 " God guard you and the holy cause of our country ! " 
 replied Mrs. M'Donald, while the tear-dimmed eyes of Myr- 
 tis spoke their blessinor and adieu. 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOtJTHEEN HOMES. 41 
 
 The homely farewell of the old negress, as she clasped 
 her black hands in earnest supplication, scarcely reached 
 his ear as the lover moved away, but he felt that he was 
 leaving tliree hearts there in fallen Atlanta which would 
 bleed should he fill a soldier's grave. 
 
 Returning to the balcony, followed by the faithful My- 
 ra, the now friendless mother and daughter gazed after the 
 disappearing form of the officer until he was lost in a cloud 
 of smoke rolling through the street 
 
 " There departs the last true friend, whom I love as if 
 my own son," said Mrs. McDonald. " A noble young man, 
 but oh, so rash, so daring ! " 
 
 " Wouldn't be a Bartow if he wasn't jest what he is," 
 remarked old Myra, brushing tears from her eyes. " I 
 knows all de stock; knowed Massa General Bartow mighty 
 well. Massa Frank same stock — mighty darin', fierce-like 
 in battle. But dars one thing I didn't like, doe I orter not 
 to speak ob dat now." 
 
 "What is it, Myra?" asked Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 " Didn't like to see Massa Frank go out ob our sight in 
 dat cloud ob smoke. I 'lowed as how ef he turned de 
 corner dar, and got out ob sight naterally like, we'd be 
 sure to see him agin. Sense he dis'peared in de smoke, I 
 think it 'pears omniverous like." 
 
 " And why ominous, Myra ? " 
 
 " Can't say why, missus, replied the old negress, wag- 
 ging ber head sagely. " It 'presses me like on de soul." 
 
42 THE m'donalds; 
 
 " Husli, Myra, look there ! " whispered Mrs. M'Donald, 
 pointing to her daughter. 
 
 Myrtis McDonald, shocked by the foreboding of the 
 Degress, and much fatigued with the events of the night, 
 was weeping bitterly, and Myra at once attempted to soothe 
 her. 
 
 " Lor' bless yon, honey ! this ole nigger is a fool — al- 
 ways was such a fooL Don't pine arter Massa Frank. 
 Dare's something in his eye that says he's gwine to live till 
 his hair is white — " 
 
 " There, Myra, that will do," commanded Mrs. McDon- 
 ald, as she wound her arms around her daughter's neck, 
 and pressing that beautiful head to her bosom. " Look 
 up, my child, and trust in God, who does all things aright. 
 Come, let us retire. This scene of confusion is very pain- 
 ful." 
 
 " Tme, dear mother, and I have no wish to gaze upon 
 poor Atlanta in her dying agonies," replied Myrtis, as they 
 withdrew from the balcony, leaving the crowds of fugitives 
 still surging through the streets. 
 
 And thus sank the Confederate banner from the long- 
 beleaguered Gate City — sank amid the roar of flames, the 
 fall of sulphurous smoke, the cries of the mob. Its de- 
 fenders, after strewing the soil of Georgia with the bones 
 of tens of thousands of the conquering invaders, from the 
 frontiers of Tennessee to the suburbs of the city, with- 
 drew in the darkness of the night, to battle elsewhere with 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES, 43 
 
 that same resolute patriotism, against the same resohite 
 foe. 
 
 Bruised, shattered, mangled, defenceless, the unhappy 
 city writhed through the horrors of that eventful night, 
 awaiting with the sickening palpitation of terror the mo- 
 ment when the vultures of the North should bury their 
 rending beaks in its quivering flesh. 
 
 But much of the suffering of that unfortunate city 
 must remain untold in this story. Yet let it be remem- 
 bered by all posterity that the cannon of the Federals 
 hurled death-dealing shells into a city in which were hun- 
 dreds of women and children. Let humanity shudder and 
 civilization blush as history in recording the events of the 
 siege of Atlanta, culls from the city sexton's reports of 
 that time, ere the siege had reached its zenith of horrors : 
 " Up to date, thirty children killed by the bursting of shells 
 thrown into the city by the Federals.'^'' 
 
 How many women, how many more children, how 
 many old decrepit men, how many sick and wounded, 
 were additional victims during this bloody siege ? Who 
 can tell ? Imagination recoils from depicting fact as 
 memory recalls the harrowing scenes of that barbarous 
 warfare. The mother nursing her babe at a famished 
 breast — ^blown to atoms . by a Federal shell ; the wife 
 bathing the fevered brow of a dying husband — blown to 
 atoms by a Federal shell ; the tender, laughing infant, 
 cooing in its cradle — blown to atoms by a Federal shell ; 
 
44 THE m'donalds; 
 
 romping children — ^blown to atoms by a Federal shell ; the 
 aged time-stricken grandfather, with his grandchild upon 
 his knee — blown to atoms by a Federal shell — Federal 
 shells bursting every^ where, in parlors, in dining-rooms, in 
 kitchens, in churches, in hospitals, in the streets. 
 
 By whose command was this done ? Pass their names 
 down, Genius of History, until not a ray of their ficti- 
 tious glory shall remain to shed light upon them. Inscribe 
 them in the darkest niche of the temple of Fame, entwine 
 them with a wreath of deadly nightshade and hellebore, 
 with flowers whose perfume is laden with the noisome 
 rankness of untimely graves. Let them remain as memen- 
 toes of the Abolition Crusade, and let them stand alone in 
 their darkness. 
 
45 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 A NOBLE HEART UNDER A BLUE COAT. 
 
 The Federals under General Slocum marched into the 
 fallen city upon the following day, and the renegades who 
 remained to reveal their true colors, hastened to display 
 the flag of the invader, while all true Southern hearts bled 
 over the disaster. 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore was immediately hand-and-glove 
 with the Federals, and rapidly sold his secreted hoards of 
 tobacco. He was exceedingly busy, too, in pointing out 
 the homes and families of leading Confederates. Without 
 intending to apologize for any of the acts of oppression, 
 and deeds of plunder committed, we must admit that the 
 number of barbarities, if not the intensity of revenge, was 
 increased by the malice of Seth Cashmore and men like 
 him, who curried favor with the invaders by denouncing 
 prominent Southern patriots. 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald was not at all surprised, though greatly 
 distressed, by the appearance of the heartless speculator 
 during the day following the occupation of the city by the 
 enemy, when Mr. Cashmore called to triumph in his 
 
46 THE m'donalds; 
 
 position and power, or to force the helpless widow to 
 terms. 
 
 Myra answered his loud and insolent summons at the 
 front door, and bluntly told him that his company was not 
 wanted in that house. 
 
 " Servant like mistress, eh ? " snarled Cashmore, pushing 
 the old negress aside, and striding into the hall. " But it 
 makes no difference with Seth Cashmore. I am master 
 of this house. Where is Mrs. M'Donald ? She had bet- 
 ter see me. I tell you that. By the way, old woman, 
 where's that rebel, Frank Bartow? I heard that he fell 
 from his horse the other night, and was brought into this 
 house.'- 
 
 " Almost wish Massa Frank was in dis house," replied 
 Myra, boldly. " He'd mighty soon take you down. Massa 
 Frank's all right, and you'll have to shoot better next 
 time." So saying, Myra walked away. 
 
 " Ah, I see the rascal escaped after all," thought Cash- 
 more. " I was sure I hit him just under the neck. No 
 matter — the way is clear now. Perhaps these proud speci- 
 mens of Southern female chivalry will come to terms. Hey ! " 
 
 He began to fill the hall with insolent shouts, as be- 
 came his new chai'acter as a " stanch loyalist released from 
 rebel rule." 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald at once descended from an upper room, 
 and as she approached the insolent speculator, he began to 
 bow and smirk a half-mocking apology. 
 
47 
 
 " I regret extremely, madam — but your servant was 
 very insolent, and refused to inform you of my friendly 
 visit—" 
 
 " Friendly visit, Mr. Cashmorc ? " interrupted Mrs. 
 M'Douald, in cold disdain. 
 
 " As the case may be, madam," retorted he, keenly 
 nettled by her unbending liauglitiness. He had expected 
 to find her in tears, subdued by the perils and privations 
 of her position. It angered his grovelling nature to find 
 that handsome dark eye as scornful and defiant as ever ; 
 that stately form erect and bold ; the lips firm and res- 
 olute. 
 
 "I have come as a fiiend, and it depends upon you 
 and your daughter whether I leave as an enemy," said he, 
 swelling with a consciousness of his ability to annoy these 
 ladies. " To begin, many of my friends, the Federal ofla- 
 cers, are seeking quarters, and I have aided them some in 
 finding comfortable places. Perhaps you have no objection 
 to taking in a few ? " 
 
 " No Federal officer or private, were he General Sher- 
 man himself, shall ever be sheltered in my house with my 
 consent," replied the haughty matron. "We are wholly 
 in their power, and they can use that power as gentlemen 
 or as savages, as it may best please them ; but it shall never 
 be said that the widow of Hardeman M'Donald consented 
 to open her doors to the despoilers of her land." 
 
 "Yes, I supposed that such were your sentiments — 
 
48 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 Southern women arc a little stiflf in that matter," sneered 
 Cashmere. 
 
 " You are now a Federal, I suppose ? " replied the lady, 
 with cutting contempt. 
 
 " Always was, madam ; though it was not good 
 policy to say so until now," remarked Cashmore with a 
 grin of unblushing efirontery, which would have laid bare 
 the' meanness of his soul, had Mrs. M'Donald not been fiilly 
 aware of that already. 
 
 " But that only proves how able I am to befriend you, 
 madam," he resumed, biting the head of his cane, and cast- 
 ing his frog-like eyes about in hope of seeing Miss Myrtis. 
 " If I say the word, no Federals will be allowed to quarter 
 here ; and if I say the word, you will have riff-raff * bum- 
 mers ' quartered here." 
 
 " You threaten ; you a man, come here to threaten a 
 widow ! You are a noble character indeed, and worthy of 
 the place of your birth — Massachusetts, sir. I am proud 
 to know that you were not bom "within the limits of the 
 Confederacy," replied Mrs. M'Donald undauntedly. " Still, 
 I have a little pardonable curiosity to learn how your in- 
 fluence can shield me from the barbarity you mention." 
 
 " I have only to report you to headquarters, either as a 
 ' loyal lady,' or a * rebel ^oman.' The Federals know how 
 to attend to both cases, madam." 
 
 " And to gain the precious good-will of Mr. Seth Cash- 
 more, what is necessary, sir ? " 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 49 
 
 " Ah, I tliongbt you would understand all that. I have 
 mentioned both to you and Miss Myrtis, a little matter — " 
 
 " One moment, sir," interrupted the indignant lady, 
 stepping to the hall door and opening it wide, " as long as 
 I am allowed to remain in this house, I intend to be its 
 mistress. The street is best suited for you. Go, sir, and 
 do yom' worst. Go ! " 
 
 She stood aside and pointed toward the open door. 
 He seemed both enraged and abashed, but walked out at 
 once. He had heard that the Preston and Hampton blood 
 was of high mettle, and that there had been instances 
 where insulted Southern ladies had avenged their insults 
 with a sudden stab or pistol-shot. Cowardly and treacher- 
 ous, he was greatly alarmed, as he passed near those flash- 
 ing eyes, and that pale, resolute face, nor breathed quite at 
 ease until he stood upon the pavement. 
 
 " Very well," said he, as he hurried away, pale and 
 trembling wdth rage, " I will be back very soon, and with 
 the roughest set I can pick up. I'll show you what Seth 
 Cashmore can do." 
 
 Myrtis M'Donald, standing upon the balcony above, 
 heard these ominous words, and at once hastened to inform 
 her mother. 
 
 " I know he is capable of any and every baseness," re- 
 plied the matron, whose cheek was burning with indigna- 
 tion. " But as I told him to his teeth, let him do his 
 worst." 
 
50 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 " But, dear motlier, lie may return, with authority to 
 drive us into the street," urged the young lady, whose pru- 
 dence was greater than that of her mother. 
 
 " Then we will go into the street — we will live under 
 sheds, and in shanties — as thousands of Southern families 
 will be forced to live, before this war ends. Or, if God or- 
 dains, we will die in the streets before we will accept 
 Seth Cashmore as one of our household." 
 
 " We can claim protection from the Federal General — " 
 
 "Myrtis M'Donald, from the enemies of my country I 
 will claim no protection ! " exclaimed the proud lady. 
 
 " We will not have the power to do so, unless we first 
 secure protection against the malice of Seth Cashmore/' 
 quietly replied her daughter. " He will soon return." 
 
 " Well, what must we do ? Shall I, or you, or both 
 of us seek out the commanding officer and beg him for a 
 guard ? Never, never." 
 
 This conversation had passed in the hall, and neither 
 lady noticed that there was a listener at the door, until old 
 Myra, entering from the rear, whispered : 
 
 " Bress us ! dar's a blue locus at de door ! " 
 
 The ladies turned, and their eyes met those of a Federal 
 officer, who stood, cap in hand, upon the threshold. His 
 attitude and air were those of a well-bred gentleman ; his 
 features frank and manly, and as the ladies faced him he 
 bowed respectfully and said : 
 
 " Pardon my ir.trsision, ladies. Tlie door was open and 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 61 
 
 I came in. May I ask if this is the bouse of Mrs. Harde- 
 man M'Donald?" 
 
 " It was my house, sir," replied the widow, " yesterday. 
 I suppose it now belongs to you." 
 
 "Tome, madam!" 
 
 "Why not, sir? All rebel property has been con- 
 fiscated by the abolition Government, so I suppose the 
 right of discovery makes it the legal possession of the first 
 abolitionist who finds it." 
 
 " Ah, but I am not an abolitionist," replied the ofl^icer, 
 in a laughing tone. 
 
 " Yet you wear the uniform of one." 
 
 " Pardon me for saying that I do not, madam. I wear 
 the uniform of the United States. I am a Unionist, but 
 not an abolitionist." 
 
 " There is no diflference in the meaning of the words, 
 in my mmd, sir," replied the widow, yet less haughtily 
 than before, for the handsome face and gentlemanly tone 
 of the unwelcome intruder impressed her favorably. 
 
 " My dear madam," said the officer, " we will not waste 
 time in discussing incendiary subjects. Several months 
 ago it was my fortune to capture a gallant young Con^ 
 federate captain in Tennessee. His name, he said, was 
 Charles Pinckney M'Donald." 
 
 " My son ! It was my poor boy, who is dead ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. M'Donald in a sad tone, while she regarded 
 the speaker anxiously. 
 
52 THE m'donalds 
 
 *' Yes, madam, he is dead. He was badly, mortally 
 wounded when he fell into our hands," continued the offi- 
 cer. " I had the honor of attending to his wants durinor 
 the few days preceding his death, and at his dictation 
 wrote a letter to his mother and sister — " 
 
 " You are the Captain Irving, of New York, of whom 
 he speaks so earnestly in that letter — Captain William Dix 
 Irving ? " asked Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 " I am, madam ; now Major Imng, attached to the 
 staff of General Slocum." 
 
 " Then, sir, permit his mother and sister to thank 
 you fervently for the generous kindness you extended to 
 poor Charlie," cried the widow, offering her hand to the 
 officer. 
 
 "And may Heaven guard you from the sad fate which 
 befell my dear brother!" exclaimed Myrtis, also giving 
 her hand, while her beautiful and eloquent eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " Ladies," said Major Irving, as he pressed the fair 
 hands, and gazed with much emotion from one to the 
 other, " I did no more than any Christian soldier and 
 gentleman should ever do to a helpless and wounded foe." 
 
 " Ah, but such instances of noble generosity are rare, 
 Major Irving," said Mrs. M'Donald. " You were as kind 
 to him as a brother; you sent to us his sword, his purse, 
 and his watch — " 
 
 " Perhaps such deeds are not so rare as you imagine, 
 
53 
 
 my dear madam," interrapted the Federal warmly. " I 
 know there are many vile and barbarous characters, beastly 
 natures, in our armies — the naturally evil nature of man is 
 fearfully increased in wickedness by the license of war — 
 yet, I know that the Federal army contains as kind, as 
 noble, as chivalric natures, as generous hearts as any in 
 the world. I know, too, that the Confederate army has 
 many right noble natures, but are there not some as dark 
 as any your people abhor in ours ? But we will not argue 
 upon that now. Man has been compared to an inferior god, 
 and Holy Writ says that he is but little lower than the 
 angels ; yet my experience in this unhappy war has con- 
 vinced me how readily man can become a beast, a savage, 
 ruthless beast. I did not draw my sword to cut my 
 Southern brother's throat because we differed in politics, 
 nor to deprive him of any right bequeathed to him by the 
 Constitution. I drew my sword to preserve the Union, 
 which, from my childhood, I have been taught to revere 
 and love as the palladium of American greatness and 
 liberty. Evil-minded men have goaded the North and 
 South into civil war, and the sword alone must now 
 decide." 
 
 " The sword ! But your generals wage more war with 
 the torch than with the sword," said Miss M'Donald. '' I 
 have no doubt, Major Irving, that were all your officers 
 like my wounded and dying brother's friend, the war would 
 soon be ended by mutual concessions, founded upon high 
 
5i 
 
 patriotic piiiiciples; but your soldiers, and your radical 
 Congress war against us, as if we were heathen, worthy 
 only of extermination." 
 
 The young officer listened with great respect and deep 
 admiration to tjie beautiful speaker, and, if he had any de- 
 sire to continue the argument, he restrained it through a 
 generous wish not to contradict so lovely a sufferer by the 
 war. He had a fair and gentle sister yonder in New York, 
 and he acted toward all Southern ladies as he wished his 
 gray-coated enemies to act toward her, should the fate of 
 war ever behold the great metropolis of the Hudson pa- 
 trolled by Confederate troops. 
 
 " Miss M'Donald," said he, earnestly, while his bright, 
 blue eyes proved his truth, " believe me when I say that 
 the great Northern heart is sick of the horrors in which 
 the war has involved the non-combatants of the unfortunate 
 South. I know that we have a class of fanatics among us 
 who entertain toward the South an animosity befitting only 
 devils, and, unhappily for both North and South, that class 
 is in power, and so long as it holds the power, oppression 
 and outrage will rule in the field and in the cabinet. Let 
 us hope for better days, when, with the Union restored, as 
 our Revolutionary fathers made it and left it, both North 
 and South will unite to east out the great foe of American 
 peace and prosperity — radicalism ! " 
 
 " The North can never free herself from the grasp of 
 the ruthless party to whose embrace she has submitted in 
 
65 
 
 her desire to vanquish the South. But let us say no more 
 of that," remarked Mrs. M'Donald. " You were the friend 
 of my wounded and dying son, and in that name, not as a 
 Federal officer, we welcome you to our poor home while 
 yet it is ours." 
 
 " And yours, madam, I hope it will ever be, if you de- 
 sire it,'- replied the Federal. "But I must convey to you 
 the last words spoken to me by your dying son, in fact, the 
 last he ever spoke, for the poor fellow died in my arms. It 
 was just as the sun was rising that he spoke, after a silence 
 of more than an hour. He had expressed a wish to behold 
 the glorious sun rise once more, and as it appeared above 
 the horizon, its first rays streaming in through the door of 
 my tent, he pressed my hand, and I raised him to a half- 
 sitting posture, with his head upon my shoulder, his face 
 to the sun." 
 
 " God reward you, sir, for your kindness ! " sobbed the 
 mother, as her mind depicted the mournful scene, and as 
 the pale and dying face of her beloved son rose before her. 
 
 " Dear Charhe ! poor brother ! " whispered Myrtis, as 
 she buried her face in her mother's bosom. 
 
 The young officer, his own generous eyes paying trib- 
 ute to his sympathy for the weeping mother and sister, con- 
 tinued in a deep and tremulous tone : 
 
 " I had learned to love Charles M'Donald, and I felt as 
 I felt when my ovm brother died in my arms before Rich- 
 mond. Your son gazed upon the rising sun long and 
 
56 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 steadily, and then, with his eves still fixed upon it, he said : 
 ' Irving, I have seen the rising sun once more, and it car- 
 ries my heart back to the home of my father, where I used 
 to see it rising over the hills of Cherokee. God bless the 
 sun, and all it shines upon ! Now let me ask one last fa- 
 vor, my kind friend. Should the fate of war ever enable 
 you to befriend my mother and sister, be as kind to them 
 as you have been to me, and God will bless you. Mother, 
 sister, brother, friends, and land I love, farewell ; may God 
 receive my spirit ! ' He never spoke again, but closed his 
 eyes, sighed heavily, and as I gazed upon his pale, rigid fea- 
 tures, I saw that he was dead. We gave him an honored 
 soldier's burial, and raised a pile of stones to mark the spot 
 where he sleeps, near the banks of the Cumberland. And 
 now, my dear friends, if I may claim the honor to call you 
 so, if there is any thing in the power of WiUiam Irvmg 
 you desire, you have but to name it." 
 
 The emotion of grief, deeply excited in the hearts of 
 the mother and sister by the simple narrative of the Fede- 
 ral officer, prevented them from replying. They were 
 thinking of that beloved and dead one, wounded unto lin- 
 gering death, and dying far from the gentle hands and 
 idolizing eyes at home ; dying yonder in Tennessee, in the 
 camps of his enemies, with the light of the rising sun glis- 
 tening in his glazing eyes. 
 
 Ah ! he was happier far in dying in the arms of a 
 generous and noble-hearted foe, than thousands upon thou- 
 
\ 
 
 OR, 
 
 57 
 
 sands of great-hearted sons of the South who breathed their 
 last in the Federal prisons of Ehnira, or Fort Delaware, or 
 Camp Chase, or any other rival of Harper-defamed and 
 Leshe-slandered Andersonville ! 
 
 Happier, perhaps, than that giant mind and royal heart, 
 which, as we write, beats and bruises high aspirations and 
 noble thoughts against the prison bars of that political dun- 
 geon at Fortress Monroe. God grant him a speedy deliver- 
 ance! 
 
 " Major Irving," said Mrs. M'Donald, drying her tears, 
 " I have shed so many tears since this dreadful war began, 
 that I wonder my eyes have not dissolved in woe. My 
 poor boy was very dear to me. I have but one son left to 
 my widowed old age, and he rides with danger-loving and 
 fierce-fighting Wade Hampton, my kinsman. I did not 
 think that my tongue could ever speak kindly again to one 
 wearing the uniform of the men who have slain my hus- 
 band, and five of my sons, and who may yet hurl to a 
 bloody and untimely grave, ray last boy ; but from the 
 bottom of my heart I am grateful to you, and invite you to 
 make use of our home, so long as it is spared to us." 
 
 " Madam, I ask no reward, and claim no hospitality 
 from you because I did a soldier^s, and I trust, a Christian 
 gentleman's duty to your son — " 
 
 " But, Major Irving," interrupted Myitis, " your presence 
 as a guest in our house, will be a protection." 
 
 "But wc do not claim it in that light," said Mrs. 
 
58 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 M'Donald, quickly. " As the friend of my son, Major Imng 
 is no longer to be considered in any other light than as an 
 honored guest." 
 
 " Nevertheless," thought the less haughty Myrtis, " his 
 presence will be a protection," and her beautiful eyes said 
 as much, to the quietly observant major. 
 '- "I accept the generous offer, ladies," he said, after a 
 moment's thought ; " and though Mrs. McDonald refuses 
 to consider me except as a guest, I join with her in hoping 
 that nothing may arise to deny me the right to be consid- 
 ered as a sincere friend." 
 
 "With that wish I heartily concur," replied Mrs. 
 M'Donald. " We do not know how long we may remain 
 in Atlanta ; aU is undecided with us. But so long as this 
 house is ours, let it be yours. Major Irving." 
 
 "Thank you, madam. I will return within an hour, 
 after performing a few duties belonging to my position." 
 
 With these words, the young officer bowed and with- 
 drew, leaving Mrs. M'Donald with a far more favorable 
 opinion of him than she had ever believed that the widow 
 of Hardeman M'Donald could, under any circumstance, 
 entertain toward a wearer of the Federal uniform. 
 
 " He has a noble heart," she said. *' It is a pity that 
 he wears that uniform." 
 
 " I do not think the color or cut of the uniform has 
 much to do with the heart. A gentleman is a gentleman 
 whether he wears the blue or gray," replied Myrtis. 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEKN HOMES. 59 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald fixed her dark eyes rather sternly upon 
 her daughter's face, and said quite curtly : 
 
 " Wait ; you have not seen all of General Sherman's 
 army, yet. 
 
60 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TITLED "BUMMER. 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Setli Cashmore, livid with rage — ^that 
 devouring, flaming rage, which seethes in the soul of a 
 coward just recovering from terror — ^pursued his way tow- 
 ard the centre of the city, muttering a thousand maledic- 
 tions upon the pride and " pluck " of the M'Donalds, and 
 casting his protuberant eyes here and there, in search of 
 some means to appease his hungry malice. 
 
 He met several bands of Federals strolling about, but 
 soon fixed his attention upon a party of four, whose uni- 
 form showed that they were officers, and whose loud talk 
 and boisterous behavior proved that they had been 
 assuaging their thirst with any thing but water. 
 
 " Good ! " muttered the renegade speculator, as his 
 glance fell upon the loudest talker of the four. " That is 
 Tom Flaskill, who used to keep a cheap rum-shop in Cam- 
 bridge Street in Boston. So he's got to be a Federal cap- 
 tain. Wonder how he got his commission ? But he's the 
 man I want. I'll see if he knows me." 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 61 
 
 With this determination the speculator accosted the 
 party with a bow, and the words — 
 
 " 'Day, gents. Looking for good quarters ? Your ser- 
 vant, gentlemen, and loyal to the core." 
 
 " You are ? And who are you ? " demanded the leader 
 of the party, with an oath of the most profane style, at the 
 same time fixing his eyes upon the grinning face of the 
 speculator. 
 
 This quondam acquaintance and boon companion of 
 Seth Cashmore, now sportmg the uniform of a Federal 
 captain, was a short, stout, red-faced, pock-marked fellow, 
 with a pair of steel-gray eyes, over which drooped flabby 
 and wrinkled lids, streaked with pufiy veins, the same kind 
 of veins variegating his thick, broad nose and swollen 
 cheeks. A heavy red mustache, scraggy whiskers, and 
 freckles innumerable, were the dubious ornaments of a 
 face, every feature of which declared its owner to be a 
 bully and a ruffian. 
 
 " My card, sir," replied Seth, as his gi-eat, baggy fin- 
 gers dived into his vest pocket, and produced a business 
 card, upon which was written : 
 
 "Atlanta, Ga., Sept. 2c?, 1864. 
 " This certifies that Mr. Seth Cashmore is a loyal citizen 
 of the United States, and a wai-m friend to the Union cause. 
 
 " Guess you know the signature attached, gentlemen," 
 continued Seth, in a tone of ironical humility. 
 
62 
 
 " Seth Caslimore? Why I used to know you," cried 
 the leader. " You used to keep a second-hand clothing 
 store on Milk Street, down to Boston." 
 
 " Yes, I knew Tom Flaskill well in them times. Glad 
 to see you are a captain, fighting the rebs. But what are 
 you beating around after? quarters ?" 
 
 " Yes. We are out on a seek, d'ye see, and want to 
 get the best before some of the Moguls, the generals and 
 colonels, spot 'em all," replied Captain FlaskilL 
 
 " Then I can show you as nice a house as is in town, 
 and the best of it is, the old woman is a red-hot secesh 
 from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot — so is 
 her daughter — and swears tbrough thick and thin that 
 she'd sooner poison General Sherman himself than offer 
 him shelter under lier roof." 
 
 " I like to get my hand on them sort," growled Flas- 
 Mll, rolling his cruel eyes around him. " AATiich way 
 does she hang out ? " 
 
 " Follow me, gentlemen, and I will soon lead you to 
 the place," said the delighted speculator, as he paced off 
 briskly, followed by the party. " I've been living several 
 years in Atlanta, gentlemen, always a true friend to the 
 noble Union — I'd die for my principles any day. But I 
 never let the rebs suspect my true sentiments, you may be 
 very sure. I had a narrow escape once, though. The time 
 when our boys ran off with the engine on the State road. 
 I gave our boys all the dots, and when they were caught 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 63 
 
 and brouglit back, I felt inuch afraid lest I might be found 
 out." 
 
 *' Tlie rebs hung our boys, didn't they ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I called it murder then, and I call it murder 
 now, gentlemen," cried Seth, smiting his bear-like paws to- 
 gether in an ecstasy of patriotism. 
 
 " How was it the rebs didn't get you into their army ? " 
 asked Flaskill. '' AVhat with Jeff. Davis at Richmond, 
 and old Joe Brown in Georgia, I wonder they didn't make 
 an involuntary grayback of you." 
 
 " I dodged 'em in every way imaginable," replied Seth 
 Cashmore, halting to produce a large pocket-book, and 
 grinning hideously as he displayed his papers. " Here's 
 my certificate to prove that I am fifty-nine j^ars old. 
 Here's one to show that I have the asthma ; this one for 
 the dropsy ; this, that I cannot distinguish colors ; this, 
 that I am as blind as a bat in gas-light ; this, that I am 
 ruptured ; this, that I have fits ; this, that I have a disease 
 of the spine ; this, that I am a ' Dunkard,' and have paid 
 five hundred dollars for being a ' Dunkard ' — in fact, I have 
 certificates to prove that I slept in a hospital, and caught 
 all the diseases of every ward." 
 
 *' Ho ! you are a shy bird, Cashmore," said Flaskill, 
 laughing, as the speculator grinned over his medical and 
 exempting certificates. 
 
 "Of course I am," roared Seth, producing another 
 batch of documents. "Here's evidence that I am an 
 
64 
 
 agent of the Nitre Bureau ; here's my contract to supply 
 charcoal ; here's another, which exempts me as tax asses- 
 sor ; here's one that lets me oft' as a mail contractor ; here's 
 another that exempts me as a railroad agent ; and here," 
 cried the jubilant speculator, with a loud roar of trium- 
 phant fraud, " is my exemption as a preacher ! " 
 
 " A preacher ? Can you preach ? " 
 
 " My dear friend," replied the speculator, smacking his 
 thick lips, as if knavery tasted sweet to him, " I can do 
 any thing to keep out of the war, and I feel pride in saying 
 that I think I have done all that one man could do, con- 
 scientiously, to keep from shooting at the noble defenders 
 of the glorious flag of the Union." 
 
 " I think you have, Cashmore, and no doubt you arc 
 now ready to carry a musket against the rebels ? " said 
 Flaskill. 
 
 " If I am, may I be shot ! " exclaimed Seth, very truth- 
 fully. " My genius does not lie in that Une. But here we 
 are, before the house I mentioned." 
 
 " Wait," said Flaskill. " I see that very nice young 
 man, Major Irving, ahead. There, he is out of sight now. 
 He's one of your cambric-handkerchief fellows, that thinks 
 a reb's got rights. This is the house, is it ? " 
 
 " This is the place," repHed Seth, waving his hand toward 
 the open door. " Large and airy rooms — one or two quite 
 well famished, considering the times, though the owner — 
 you see her standing in the door, gentlemen — has nearly 
 
65 
 
 stripped lier liouse of furniture to aid tlie rebel cause. 
 StiU, if the house pleases you, I can point out several rebel 
 families which have some decent furniture left, and I guess 
 you can help yourselves to what suits you." 
 
 " I think we can," replied Flaskill, with a brutal laugh, 
 which attracted the attention of Mrs. M'Donald, who saw 
 the party for the first time as he laughed. 
 
 " Heaven aid me now ! " thought the widow, as she 
 scanned the coarse and scowling faces looking across the 
 street. " They are coming here, and Seth Cashmore with 
 them. Well, I may as well meet them now as hereafter." 
 
 It was a sad sight to see that delicately reared Southern 
 matron nerve herself to meet those brutal and triumphant 
 foes of her beloved, prostrate land. The excitement of the 
 hour had painted a bright-red spot upon each pale cheek of 
 her still handsome face, and though her slender and feeble 
 frame trembled from overtaxed nervousness, her dark, clear 
 eyes flashed heroic defiance upon the shoulder-strapped 
 " bummers " as they swaggered across the street, and noisily 
 ascended the steps leading to the vestibule of her house. 
 
 They were ignorant of the respect due to woman's 
 garb ; or, if they were not ignorant, they had no shame, 
 and red-faced Flaskill spoke out in a rude, overbearing 
 tone: 
 
 " "We want this house, old woman. We are four Fed- 
 eral oflScers, and want quarters here." 
 
 At this moment. Myitis M'Donald hastened from her 
 
66 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 room, and placed herself by the side of the widow, with an 
 air of dignity and coui'age equal to tlie heroism of her high- 
 spirited mother. 
 
 " You claim to be gentlemen, I presume ? " said Mrs. 
 M'Donald, but not moving from her door. 
 
 "We are Federal officers," replied Captain Flaskill, 
 with a fierce oath, and looking very savage. 
 
 " Your uniform tells me that," calmly remarked Mrs. 
 M'Donald. " B. F. Butler is also a Federal officer, and of 
 far higher rank than you ; yet I should be sorry if you ad- 
 mit him to be a specimen of a Federal gentleman. You 
 desire quarters in my house. I suppose you have orders 
 to that eflfect from your commanding officer ? If not, I 
 must decline the honor of your company." 
 
 " Just so," growled Flaskill, as he deliberately stretched 
 out his gi-eat haiiy hands; no doubt intending to thrust 
 the ladies aside. 
 
 To avoid this insulting advance they were forced to fall 
 back from the door, and Flaskill swaggered in with a coarse 
 laugh, followed by his comrades, Seth Cashmore bravely 
 bringing up the rear, and quite eager to make himself of 
 importance to his Federal friends. 
 
 "The parlor is on the right, gentlemen," said Seth, 
 staring atrociously at Myrtis, a vulgar, exultant stare. 
 
 '' There ain't much left in this parlor," remarked the 
 valiant Flaskill, as he rolled his eyes about the apartment. 
 " Hardly pay a fellow for the carting off." 
 
OK. THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. G7 
 
 Now -vve must say tliat Tom Flaskill is an excellent type 
 of a numerous class of titled " bummers," who afterward 
 sullied tlie glory of Sherman's celebrated march ; in fact, 
 sullied it from the very day the Federal army entered North- 
 ern Georgia. We do not hold him and his fellows up as 
 types of Federal officers in general ; for, we feel a thrill of 
 pride in the American name, in knowing that there were 
 thousands of noble hearts beating beneath the Federal uni- 
 fonn ; kind and generous souls, of a high sense of honor 
 and chivalry, warring against the South because they firm- 
 ly believed the Union cause just and true. But we present 
 Tom Flaskill as a genuine specimen of those "jail-birds," 
 holding Federal commissions, and using them to plunder, 
 to bui*n, to destroy private property, and to insult, to 
 harry, to outrage helpless old men, feeble and unprotected 
 women, and innocent children. 
 
 Captain Tom Flaskill was an expert judge of what was 
 worth " carting ofi* " from Southern homes. It is not 
 probable that he had ever entered a respectable parlor, in 
 all his Hfe, until, as a plundering Federal captain, he blun- 
 dered into a commission and used his place and power to 
 plunder " rebel property." 
 
 But he had a very extensive experience of what might 
 be found in Southern parlors, bed-rooms, closets, and 
 kitchens, for he had shipped on his own account, and upon 
 shares with officers of higher grade and like character, 
 several car-loads of "rebel" pianos, sofas, divans, otto- 
 
68 
 
 mans, tites-a-tetes^ tables, carpets, curtains, pictures, mantel 
 ornaments, etc., etc., — shipped them North, where they 
 may be found, indignantly says the Rev. Henry Ward 
 Beecher, to this day. 
 
 He was also an excellent judge of ladies' wearing ap- 
 parel, and knick-knacks, trinkets, et cetera, in general ; for 
 he had shipped North scores of trunks crammed with his 
 tasteful selections from the plundered wardrobes of " rebel 
 women " — not omitting babies' rattles, provided the rattles 
 had a touch of gold on them. 
 
 Therefore Captain Flaskill felt indignant as he scorn- 
 fully scanned the impoverished parlor of the M'Donalds, 
 and had the right of an accomplished brigand, an A. M. of 
 the College of " Bummers," to growl : 
 
 " There ain't much here worth the carting ofif." 
 
 " Not much now, that's a shameful fact," said Mr. Seth 
 Cashmore, virtuously indignant that his esteemed friend 
 Flaskill was thus deprived of his stealing privileges. " But 
 this room used to be a grand flare-out. Rich Brussels car- 
 pets—" 
 
 " Where's them carpets now ? " demanded Flaskill. 
 
 " Made up into blankets and comforters for the rebels, 
 Tom. Splendid marbled-topped side and centre tables — " 
 
 " Where's them tables now ? " 
 
 " Melted into Confederate money, sold to aid the rebel 
 currency, Tom. Superb rosewood piano—" 
 
 " What's become of that ? " 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 69 
 
 " Sold to buy corn and salt for rebel soldiers' families, 
 Tom. Costly curtains — well, it all went. I needn't waste 
 time telling it. All went to help the rebels. You see 
 what is left in this room ; a chair or two, that picture — " 
 
 " Hello ! what made that smashing hole just over the 
 picture ? and, come to look around, the walls is badly cut 
 up," said Flaskill. 
 
 " One of the Federal shells burst in this room," replied 
 Seth, rubbing his whiskers. " That picture is a portrait of 
 the late Colonel Hardeman M'Donald, killed at the first 
 Manassas. There used to be a great many very fine paint- 
 ings in here, and in the hall, but they were sold to help to 
 raise a fnnd to build a rebel gunboat." 
 
 " Old reb," said Flaskill, addressing the portrait," you 
 might just as well cave." 
 
 He advanced to the picture and grimaced mockingly at 
 the noble face. Had the fiery -spirited original, and not the 
 lifeless portrait, been before him, he would have played 
 hound and not hyena. 
 
 He grasped the frame, and, wrenching it from its 
 brackets, would have tossed it through the open v/indow 
 into the street, had not Miss M'Donald placed her fair 
 hand upon his ruflSan arm and said : 
 
 " I pray you give that portrait to me, sir." 
 
 " And what do you want with it? Why didn't you 
 sell it when you sold the others, you rebel ! " demanded 
 Flaskill, with an oath we omit, and we also omit the ob- 
 
70 
 
 scene epithet which followed the word "rebel," though 
 millious in the South can tnily testify that the insulting 
 epithet was lavishly used by the Federals in their march to 
 the sea, when they addressed Southern ladies. 
 
 " It is the portrait of my father," replied Myrtis, her 
 cheek flushing indignantly. 
 
 " It is the portrait of my dead husband, sir," remarked 
 Mrs. M'Donald, with a calm dignity which should have 
 abashed even B. F. Butler, who, in his late speech, glories 
 in having forced " Southern ladies in silks and satins to 
 ktieel to him for favors ! " 
 
 " It is de picture of my dead massa ! " exclaimed old 
 Myra, who had now joined the party. 
 
 " Good ! I see that it is worth something to you," said 
 Flaskill, with a wicked leer at the three women. " Hey, 
 boys ! here's a chance to drive a trade. I expect those reb- 
 els (we omit the epithet) have hid away a trinket or two, 
 a, watch or some rings. Say, old lady, what will you give 
 for the picture of your husband ? And you, my dainty, 
 for the picture of your father ? And you, you ball of 
 blacking, for the picture of the old rebel rascal you still 
 call your master? Going, going, going to the highest 
 bidder. Gold, silver, greenbacks or trinkets taken at cur- 
 rent rates ! Make your bids, ladies, white and black ! " 
 
 " What a humorous fellow he is 1 " said Seth, gloating 
 maliciously over the humiliation of the unfortunate M'Don- 
 alds. " He'd make a superb auctioneer." 
 
71 
 
 " Let liim do as lie pleases with it," remarked Mrs. 
 M'DoiialJ, liaiig-litily, as she turned away in disgust. " It 
 ^vould grieve the noble spirit of Hardeman M'Donald to 
 know that his widow and his daughter stooped to ask even 
 life at the hands of a ruffian so base." 
 
 " Mother, mother," whispered the more prudent daugh- 
 ter, " do not irritate the ferocious beast, he may strike us. 
 I am sure he looks vile enough." 
 
 But the valiant Flaskill seemed to be in a jocular mood, 
 or, perhaps he had heard so many indignant feminine 
 speeches as he insulted and plundered, that he had come 
 to regard them as seasoning to his taste. 
 
 "There's game! That's plucky! The old hen will 
 crow soon," said he, mockingly. " Come, I put the pic- 
 ture cheap. Three kisses from the young rebel maid ran- 
 soms old rebel head." 
 
 " Three all 'round," chorused his noble comrades, ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 " With an extra one for me," snarled Mr. Seth Cash- 
 more, in a paroxysm of delight. " Ah ! I told you, ladies, 
 you ought to make a friend of me." 
 
 " My daughter," said Mrs. M'Donald, " let us retire. 
 These are so far from being entitled to the name of gentle- 
 men, that it is a disgrace to humanity to call them men." 
 
 " Away it goes, then ! " shouted Flaskill, as he tossed 
 the picture into the street. 
 
 Though greatly shocked by the violence of these men. 
 
72 
 
 the ladies hastened into the street to rescue the hallowed 
 memento of their beloved dead, while old Myra loudly 
 and stingingly berated the perpetrator •of the cowardly 
 deed. 
 
 But her indignant speech was suddenly cut short as 
 Flaskill struck her in the mouth with the butt of his pis- 
 tol, hurling her to the floor. What if she was a wo- 
 man ? " He never allowed rebels, black or white, to give 
 him impudence ! " 
 
 Had old M}Ta been the fairest, most stately dame in 
 all Dixie, the nrffian would have struck her down all the 
 same. He, and fellows like him, commissioned assassins, 
 licensed thieves, with the scent of prisons and jails and 
 dance-cellars reeking about them, never regarded age, sex, 
 or color as they swept through the helpless South. 
 
 Does the reader suppose that the scene just nan-ated is 
 a fictitious one ? If so, fact is mistaken for fiction. It 
 is but one of the many scenes of atrocious tyranny, out- 
 rageous barbarity which daily occurred in Georgia and 
 South Carolina, when the Federal army followed the policy 
 commanded by the radical party of the North. The scene 
 we have attempted to portray is a tame affair, in compari- 
 son with what really transpired after Sherman's evacuation 
 of the fallen city. 
 
 " I think this place will suit us, eh, boys ? " said Flas- 
 kill. " Cashmore has promised to point out furniture." 
 
 "Of course I will, gentlemen," said the speculator, 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 73 
 
 " but you may find something worth your attention in the 
 bed-room of these rebels." 
 
 " That's a fact ; let's have the whole house." 
 
 " Massa cap'n," said old Myra, rising from the floor, 
 and wiping the blood from her lips upon her apron, " if 
 you take de wbole house, whar de ladies gwine for stay ? " 
 
 •' The ladies ? They may leave — though that young 
 one is a beauty, too," replied Flaskill. " I'll think of that." 
 
 " Captain Flaskill," said a voice. The ruffian turned 
 round, and beheld Major Irving. 
 4 
 
74 THE m'donalds; 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INSULTING THE FLAG. 
 
 The young major's face was blazing with indignation, 
 and his blue eyes sparkled as he spoke those two words, 
 " Captain FlaskiU." 
 
 "Well, Major Irving?" replied Flaskill, facing him 
 boldly. 
 
 " I understand from these ladies that they have been 
 insulted by you, and that you are about to drive them into 
 the street. That such is the fact I have no doubt, for I 
 have overheard some of your language. Now, sir, under- 
 stand this : this family is under my protection ! " 
 
 " Under your protection ! that's rich," said Flaskill. 
 " But go on, I consider myself as good as any New York 
 popinjay that ever walked." 
 
 " They are under my protection, sir, and I shall see 
 that they are protected. You need not scowl at me, sir, 
 nor any of your friends," continued the major, undisturbed 
 by the black looks of the shoulder-strapped " bummei-s." 
 " I hold an order from General Slocum assigning the house 
 of Mrs. Hardeman M'Donald to my care ! " 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 75 
 
 "Let me see the order," gru% demanded Captain 
 Flaskill. 
 
 The major gave him a paper, and the captain read it 
 with a lowering eye. He returned the order, saying: 
 
 " You are ahead of me again, William Irving, as you 
 were in Marietta ; but mark me, I'll be even with you yet. 
 You're a copperhead conservative, and that's more than 
 half a rebel. Come, boys. Miss Nancy with the white 
 kids is ahead of Tom Flaskill again. Let's find another 
 spot, this place's been well picked already. Come, Cash- 
 more, you can pilot us ! " 
 
 "Cashmore? Is your name Cashrabrc?" asked Major 
 Irving, advancing toward the speculator. 
 
 "At your service, major. Infinitely and entirely at 
 your service, I assure you, and at that of all Federal gentle- 
 men, everywhere," rattled Mr. Cashmore. 
 
 " I only wished to know you. I have heard of you," 
 replied the major. " Captain Charles McDonald, who died 
 in Tennessee, knew you well. I wish to inform you that 
 it is with gTeat pleasure I decline the services you offer, 
 and also that if you attempt again to annoy this family or 
 any other unprotected family, I will break every bone in 
 your body." 
 
 With these words, the major extended his nervous 
 fingers with amazmg celerity, and grasped the large hooked 
 nose of the astonished speculator in a gripe of steel. Hold- 
 ing him thus he led him into the hah, through the hall to 
 
76 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 the front door, released the nose and bestowed a hearty 
 kick which enabled Mr. Seth Cashmere to take a prodigious 
 leap into the street, where he arrived upon all fours. 
 
 " Pardon me, ladies," said the major, turning and bow- 
 ing to the M'Donalds, "the fellow is scarcely worthy of a 
 gentleman's boot, but he is so very mean." 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald smiled, while her daughter was forced 
 to laugh aloud at the ridiculous plight of the speculator, 
 who scrambled to his feet and hurried after Captain 
 Flaskill and his comrades. 
 
 " I'll be revenged upon that fellow, if he is a Federal 
 major," said Seth in his teeth, while he rubbed his back. 
 /' The M'Donalds are very lucky in finding a protector." 
 
 Very fortunate, indeed, Mr. Cashmore ; but alas ! how 
 many in that unhappy and conquered city failed to find a 
 Major Irving whose generous arm could and would shield 
 their helplessness from lawless rascals like Seth Cashmore, 
 who eagerly seized the time to gratify private malice 
 which had rankled in venomous hearts for years ; or from 
 the military brutality of wretches like Tom Flaskill, who 
 followed and accompanied the mighty hosts of Sherman 
 merely to plunder and to outrage ! 
 
 Under the malevolent guidance of Seth Cashmore other 
 " rebel homes " were visited and outraged by Flaskill and 
 fellows like him ; but, for the time, the M'Donalds were 
 safe from the attacks of the speculator, who, finding his 
 aims thwarted, turned his attention to fleecing his Federal 
 
77 
 
 friends with as little compunction as he had fleeced the 
 " rebels." 
 
 The quiet but keen investigations of Major Irving soon 
 discovered the bitterness of that poverty in which the 
 M'Donalds had been steeped to the lips, and his private 
 purse soon restored plenty, not only to that household, but 
 to many others in the starving city. He was too thoroughly 
 a gentleman to obtrude his charity upon any; particularly 
 was he guarded in administering to the wants of the 
 McDonalds. He could appreciate the feelings of the 
 haughty yet greatly humbled matron as she beheld in her 
 house the uniform of her country's triumphant foes, and 
 was rarely visible to either mother or daughter, though 
 the beauty of the latter had greatly impressed his heart 
 and mind. 
 
 When not engaged in his oflBcial duties he occupied 
 much of his time in searching for misery and alleviating its 
 pangs. 
 
 He had a wide field for charity in war-smitten Atlanta ; 
 and, though he possessed a heavy purse, it would soon 
 have been exhausted, had he not found similar spirits to 
 his own among his brother ofiicers. As heavily as the heel 
 of Federal war has crushed the Southern heart, it would be 
 unworthy of its world-renowned reputation for chivalric 
 and knightly traits, did it not fairly admit that amid the 
 armies which swept over the fields of Dixie, like hurri- 
 canes of devastation, tliere were many generous and hon- 
 
78 
 
 orablc men ; men whom no party hate or sectional malice 
 could make forgetful of the laws of honor, of humanity, of 
 Christianity, of gentle breeding. 
 
 History will declare that under the barbarous policy 
 ordered by the radical leaders at Washington, preached 
 from the sacred desk by fanatical Bible-twisters, the Federal 
 armies in paying strict obedience must have retrograded 
 into the warfare of ruthless savages. " K," said the merci- 
 less abolition leaders, as they urged on the war, " the South 
 cannot be subdued without extermination — and we be- 
 lieve it cannot — then exterminate her people ! " The 
 atrocious fact is on record in the archives of the American 
 nation, and defies denial. But while posterity stands ap- 
 palled before this evidence of party madness, let it rejoice 
 that characters like Major Irving w^ere not few nor far be- 
 tween. 
 
 There was barbarity enough, outrage, atrocity, inhu- 
 manity, savagery enough to sully the fair fame of the Amer. 
 ican name ; but civilization, chivalrj', and Christianity shed 
 their fair lights upon the night of horrors. Those leaders, 
 civil and military, who played the parts of devils are al- 
 ready experiencing the condemnation of the world ; and, let 
 us hope, that the time is not far distant, when those brazen- 
 browed glorifiers in their own infamous deeds, who still 
 trumpet forth their shame as a thing of which to be proud, 
 will hasten to hide their crushed heads in the sands of 
 oblivion. 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 79 
 
 The mortification of the proud-spirited Southern ma- 
 tron was concealed beneath a dignified calmness in per- 
 fect consonance with her lofty nature. She had great and 
 bitter cause to hate the Federal name and flag, for men 
 warring under the name of the Union, had bereft her of 
 her husband, five of her sons, and all of her once opulent 
 estate. She firmly believed the cause of the South most 
 just; the course of the Washington Government most 
 tyrannical. 
 
 Grateful, indeed, she was to Major Irving for his kind- 
 ness, and for his sake she strove to look upon his uniform 
 with some sentiment less harsh than detestation. She had 
 once revered the " gorgeous flag of the Republic," but that 
 feeling had passed away forever. She could not gaze upon 
 it without remembering the graves of her husband and 
 children, but she kept her sentiments locked within her 
 own bosom. 
 
 The beautiful Myrtis shared all the feelings of her moth- 
 er, but calm and prudent, she, too, held her own counsel. 
 
 But the feelings of both mother and daughter were to 
 be rudely outraged during the few days they were permit- 
 ted to remain in Atlanta, under Federal rule. 
 
 One day, the third or fourth after the discomfiture of 
 Seth Cashmore, Mrs. M'Donald received an urgent note from 
 a lady friend asking her immediate presence, as the mother 
 of that Mend was at the point of death. 
 
 As much as Mrs. M'Donald disliked to appear in the 
 
80 
 
 streets, she could not refuse to comply with this request ; 
 and as Miss M'Donald was also greatly attached to the dy- 
 ing lady, she of course accompanied her mother. 
 
 But the ever-vigilact eye of Mr. Seth Cashmore did not 
 fail to recognize the forms, though he could not see the 
 deeply- veiled faces of the M'Donalds. Malice, like love, 
 is ever on the alert, and its instincts are almost unerring. 
 
 Though at a great distance, when he discerned two 
 female forms in that deep mourning so common, alas! 
 North and South, since 1861, Seth Cashmore instantly con- 
 ceived the belief that the objects of his mahce were upon the 
 street, and prompted into immediate activity by that belief, 
 he made a rapid circuit of several squares, and was thus 
 enabled to meet them. 
 
 They saw him, and recognized him, though neither 
 spoke of the fact until be had reached a considerable dis- 
 tance from them. 
 
 " I did hope that we could pass through the streets 
 without seeing that wretch," observed Mrs. M'Donald. 
 " Now, it is a shame, after all the care we took to walk in 
 deserted streets, that the very fellow whom we desii-ed to 
 avoid, should meet us, face to face." 
 
 " Hardly face to face, mother," replied Myrtis, " for we 
 are so deeply veiled that he could not have recognized us." 
 
 " My dear child, remember that the war has left us but 
 the dresses we now wear, and surely they must have be- 
 come familiar to Seth Cashmore." 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 81 
 
 " That is true, mother. But what can he do to annoy 
 us ? We are not committing an act of treason, I hope, in 
 merely appearing in the street ? " 
 
 " Heaven knows what act our enemies may construe to 
 be treason," replied the widow. " I am sure we have no 
 * rebel ribbons ' or * rebel ornaments ' upon our persons. I 
 have heard that a little baby was arrested for wearing red 
 and white stockings. Poor little baby rebel ! " 
 
 Conversing thus, the ladies pursued their walk and soon 
 reached the humble roof which sheltered their dying friend, 
 Mrs. M'Donald remarking with a sigh, as they paused be- 
 fore the door — 
 
 " My spirits feel greatly depressed, and I attribute it to 
 having met Seth Cashmore — I feel that he is plotting mis- 
 chief of some kind." 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore had been plotting mischief. He 
 was an expert at plotting mischief, and he soon hit upon a 
 plan by which he hoped to annoy, if not injure, the McDon- 
 alds. He had seen their acknowledged protector. Major 
 Irving, lide out that morning with several other officers, and 
 felt quite confident that he had a fair field for his opera- 
 tions. 
 
 He hurried to find his fiiend Tom Flaskill, and having 
 found that noble warrior about two-thirds drunk, and there- 
 fore in fine trim for any rascality, he at once laid his valor- 
 ous plans before him. 
 
 " It shall be done ! " replied the noble son of Mars, 
 4* 
 
82 THE m'donalds; 
 
 buctling on Lis sword, and examining his pistols as if about 
 to attack lions and not unprotected ladies. " Tbey arc 
 proud upstarts, pets of Miss Major Nancy, and I rejoice in 
 the opportnnity." 
 
 He then collected several of his favorite companions, 
 heroes of the bottle and bar-room stamp, and having pro- 
 cured two large Federal flags, and two stout cords, set forth 
 upon his gallant expedition, piloted by the worthy Seth 
 Cashmore. 
 
 Upon reaching the vicinity of the house of the dying 
 lady, the doughty captain stretched a cord across the pave- 
 ment, some ten or fifteen feet from the ground, and upon 
 that he hung one of his " star-spangled banners." Then 
 proceeding beyond the house, he rigged up his other flag. 
 
 " Now then," said Captain FlaskiU, *' I think they are in 
 a trap. They must either pass under and touch the * stars 
 and_stripes,' or put for the middle of the street, which will 
 be an ' insult to the flag,' and we are ordered to aiTest any 
 one that treats the * sacred gridiron ' with the least dis- 
 respect." 
 
 " If I know any thing of the character of the old lady," 
 chuckled Scth, as he rubbed his hands, " she'd drink poi- 
 son before she'll pass under the Federal flag. I've heard 
 her say so twenty times — and the young one too. 
 
 " Just so," replied FlasMU, " and now we'd better retire 
 out of sight. For if they suspect the trick, they may make 
 a virtue of a necessity." 
 
83 
 
 They then withdrew to the corner of the next street, 
 and waited patiently for the appearance of the ladies. 
 
 The M'Donalds, busy in administering to the wants of 
 the dying woman within the house, knew nothing of the 
 hanging of the flags, nor was the fact observed by any of 
 the afflicted household, for the attention of all was fully oc- 
 cupied within. 
 
 A fair and lovely spirit was rapidly passing away ; not 
 prostrated by the assaults of disease, but stricken down a 
 few weeks ago by a Federal shell, as she stood by the bed- 
 side of her wounded husband. 
 
 Yes, on the 20th of August, 1864, while Mrs. Ray was 
 bathing the burning brow of her husband, one of tbe mili- 
 tia of Georgia, wounded in the trenches before Atlanta, a 
 shell flew screeching from the mouth of a Federal cannon, 
 and hurling like a death-demon into the city, exploded in 
 the sick-room, fearfully mangling the tender form of this 
 excellent woman. The same explosion killed the wounded 
 husband. 
 
 Scenes of horror, of woe, of misery indescribable were 
 common at that time in the unhappy city. We present it 
 but as a single specimen of tbe warfare beneath which At- 
 lanta at length fell, crushed, bleeding, mutilated. 
 
 We will not linger at this death-bed of a gentle, deli- 
 cate lady. She died, one of the many unoffending vic- 
 tims of that dreadfnl civil war, precipitated upon a peace- 
 ful and most prosperous nation by political fanaticism. 
 
84 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 The M'Donalds performed the few Mnd oflBces that 
 lay in their power, and with hearts saddened by the scene, 
 left the house to return to their home. 
 
 They had reached the pavement, had turned to the 
 right, had taken a few steps homeward, when both paused 
 abruptly. There before them, hanging so low that to pass 
 under it they must stoop, drooped the flag of the invaders 
 of the South. 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald gazed upon the banner for a moment in 
 silence, and then remarked — 
 
 "I have said that I will never pass under the flag of my 
 enemies if I can avoid it. Come, we will go the other way." 
 
 They turned, and an exclamation of surprise rose to 
 their lips as they saw the second flag, flaunting as if in 
 mockery of their dilemma. 
 
 " I told you Seth Cash more was plotting mischief or 
 insult," said Mrs. M'Donald, '' but his cowardly trick shall 
 not force me to stoop to pass under that flag." 
 
 " Mother," remarked Myrtis, detaining the widow as 
 she was about to walk into the street, " I have heard that 
 the Federals bitterly resent any supposed slight to their 
 flag. They may arrest us if we pass around." 
 
 "Let them arrest, then," replied the widow. "Such 
 petty tyranny is in perfect accordance with their diminu- 
 tive souJs," and with these words she walked into the street 
 and passed around the nearer flag. Her daughter, of course, 
 accompanied her. ^ ^ 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 85 
 
 " There, they have run their heads into the noose," said 
 Flaskill to his comrades, who had held keen watch. " Some 
 of you can go and take down the flags, while I proceed to 
 arrest these rebels. Come, Cashmore." 
 
 " Excuse me, Tom, I'd rather not appear in the affair," 
 protested the wary speculator, who had a vivid and salutary 
 remembrance of tbe threat of Major Irving. " I will sec 
 you again, and hear all about it." 
 
 He did not remain to argue the matter, but hurried 
 away, while the valorous Flaskill hastened after the ladies, 
 followed by several of his soldiers. 
 
 The M'Donalds were soon overtaken, and coarsely or- 
 dered to halt by Captain Flaskill. 
 
 They at once halted, and awaited his pleasure. Both 
 instantly recognized that brutal face, and those cruel eyes 
 glaring malignantly beneath their flabby, red-veined lids. 
 
 " Why did you rebel women not pass under our 
 flag, just now?" demanded Flaskill, while his soldiers 
 gathered around the shrinking ladies with fixed bayonets. 
 
 " Were those flags not hung there to compel us to pass 
 under them, sir?" asked Mrs. M'Donald, calmly. 
 
 " That does not answer my question, you rebel," said 
 valiant Flaskill, fiercely, as he twirled his red and bristling 
 mustache. " You left the pavement, walked into the 
 street, and passed around the American flag ; thus publicly 
 declaring your contempt for the flag of the Union. Do 
 you deny it ? " 
 
86 
 
 " I do not deny it," promptly replied Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 " Then I arrest both of you for treason," cried FlasldlL 
 " March the rebel wenches to the guard-house. Fall in ! 
 Forward ! " 
 
 Then was seen a spectacle by no means uncommon 
 during the war, and afterward seen in other Southern 
 cities ; the spectacle of delicate Southern ladies marched 
 through the most public streets, guarded by stalwart, beard- 
 ed men in blue, whose fierce looks and glistening bayonets 
 betokened to all beholders the importance of their petticoat- 
 ed prisoners, and the terrible danger to the Federal arms, 
 should those dreadful " rebel women " get loose ! 
 
 The McDonalds at first almost sank with shame, but a 
 few moments sufficed to restore to them their family and 
 national courage. 
 
 " It is no shame that we, though women, should be in- 
 sulted for our country's sake," remarked the haughty widow, 
 as her dark eyes flashed defiance, and as she boldly threw 
 aside her veil. " My husband and children have died for 
 the Southern Confederacy, and if my death is demanded I 
 am ready." 
 
 The maiden modesty of the lovely girl at her side, less 
 experienced in the rude ways of the world, shrank how- 
 ever from the bold and leeiing eyes of her captors, and she 
 clutched her veil beneath her chin with trembling hands, 
 as if fearful that rude and shameless FlasMll would pluck it 
 fi'om her blushins: face. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 87 
 
 "Conduct me to your provost-marshal at once," de- 
 manded Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 *' I'll slap you into the guard-house first, and then make 
 ray report," replied Flaskill, who took huge delight in 
 humiliating " rebel wenches." 
 
 He kept his word. These ladies were marched to the 
 guard-house, and locked up in company with drunken sol- 
 diers, thieving vagabonds, negro rufiiaus, and the like. 
 
 It was nearly night, when even the heroic fortitude of 
 the courageous though feeble widow, was nearly exhausted 
 before Major Irving entered the dirty room in which the 
 M'Donalds were confined. 
 
 His face was grave and pale, and there was a fresh scar 
 upon his cheek, as from a recent encounter. 
 
 " Come with me, ladies," said he, ofiering an arm to 
 each, and conducting them to a carriage in the street. " I 
 am deeply mortified that my absence gave an opportunity 
 for the perpetration of this outrage. At least, neither 
 Captain Flaskill nor Seth Cashmore will annoy you for 
 some time to come." 
 
 He then explained that information of the aftair had 
 been reported to him by old Myra, upon his return from a 
 reconnoissance, and that he had immediately procured an 
 order for their release, and, having met Flaskill and Cash- 
 more on his way to the guard-house, had pummelled the 
 captain and cowhided the speculator. 
 
88 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 ATLANTA DEPOPULATED. 
 
 A FEW days after the events narrated in the preceding 
 chapter appeared the celebrated order of General Sherman, 
 which commanded the depopulation of the conquered 
 city. 
 
 We will not pause here to discuss this remarkable or- 
 der, by which thousands of the women and children of a 
 vanquished town were deprived of their homes, and turned 
 shelterless, penniless, but, thank Heaven, not friendless, 
 upon the precarious livelihood to be gained or begged in 
 an impoverished country. We will only say that the en- 
 forcement of the order caused incalculable misery, inclu- 
 ding sickness, diseases of all kinds, bitter poverty, starva- 
 tion, death. 
 
 The unfortunate refugees of the hapless city were scat- 
 tered over all the State ; families were broken up, never to 
 be reunited ; property was lost, or ruined, beyond all re- 
 demption; decrepit old men, sick women, and hungry 
 children, driven from their shell-shattered Atlanta homes, 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 89 
 
 straggled over all Georgia, living from hand to moutli, or 
 dying by the wayside, glad to shelter their heads and tot- 
 tering frames in sheds, shanties, mere kennels, old stables, 
 dismantled cars, shattered wagons, ruined and long-deserted 
 negro cabins, crumbling old stores — nay, even in empty 
 hogsheads, in and under any thing which afforded the 
 slightest shelter. 
 
 Gaunt starvation, livid-lipped, haggard-eyed disease fol- 
 lowed these miserable refugees ; and had not the generous 
 charity of the poverty-smitten South hastened to aid and 
 shelter them, probably not one in ten would have lived 
 until 1865. 
 
 But Macon, Augusta, Columbus, Savannah, and other 
 Southern cities, and the towns, villages, and hamlets of the 
 noble Empire State, never forgetful of the pure instincts 
 of Christianity, gathered them up as far as they were able, 
 though there were many proud-hearted unfortunates who 
 suffered and concealed the pangs forced upon them by the 
 order which depopulated Atlanta. 
 
 The M'Donalds were forced to seek some other home, 
 and they departed from the last home of their ancestors, 
 unable to take with them the few comforts and little furni- 
 ture they had barely held together until that sad hour. 
 
 With a tenacious fidelity old Myra clung to the waning 
 fortunes of her unhappy mistress. Bleak, black, and bit- 
 ter had those fortunes been; but the future loomed up 
 darkly, still more bleak and black, and bitter, yet this 
 
90 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 aged Degress, type of many of her race, refused to be sep- 
 arated from the fate of that family in which she had lived 
 and served since her birth. 
 
 The kindness of the Federal major was still bright and 
 conspicuous, nor was this nobleness of character caused by 
 his love for Myrtis M'Douald. Prior to the war he had 
 wooed and won the heart of a fair-haired Northern lady ; 
 and though he could not but admire the loveliness of the 
 dark-eyed, graceful Georgian girl, his soul remained true to 
 his Northern love. His kindness sprang from his own 
 chivah'ic nature, and he was as noble in his conduct tow- 
 ard the ruder classes of his helpless foes as he had been 
 toward the refined and once-opulent M'Donalds. 
 
 All the more honor to him for this, for the license of 
 the times was simply fearful, and the examples as well as 
 the precepts of the leaders of the radical party commanded 
 their soldiers to oppress and destroy. 
 
 He had become gi'eatly interested in the fortunes of 
 the mother and daughter, and on one occasion advised 
 them to seek refuge in New York, beneath his mother's 
 roof, and assured them of a warm welcome. 
 
 " My mother and sister," said he, " already know you, 
 for I have written much concerning you. Reside with them 
 until the return of peace will enable you to Hve in peace 
 again in Georgia. I am in profound earnest, ladies." 
 
 " I have no doubt you are. Major Irving," replied Mrs. 
 M'Donald, deeply affected by this unexpected generosity 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 91 
 
 from one wearing Federal uniform, " and we are inexpressi- 
 bly grateful to you for your princely kindness. With waiTQ 
 and ever-mindful gratitude to you, we must decline to ac- 
 cept your offer. Our fortune must attend that of our be- 
 loved South ; with her we are willing to suffer , with her 
 we live or die, as the All-wise God ordains." 
 
 Major Irving was fully capable of appreciating this pure 
 and lofty patriotism, and he bowed his admiration, while 
 he expressed his regret that the war had shattered that 
 deep love which both North and South had once been 
 emulous in displaying for the great American Union. 
 
 " It is no longer a Union," repHed Mrs. M'Donald, " it 
 is a despotism," and with these words the conversation 
 ended. 
 
 The services of the major procured the M'Donalds 
 means of transportation to the Confederate lines, and, with 
 sincere regret upon both sides, they parted. 
 
 " Did I not devotedly love Frank Bartow, I should be 
 tempted to love Major Irving," thought Myrtis M'Donald, 
 as she gazed after the tall and graceful officer as he disap- 
 peared amid a crowd of blue uniforms. 
 
 The widow had her thoughts, also, and a tear trembled 
 in her eye as she saw her Federal protector no more ; but 
 she said nothing, and other and more imperative thoughts 
 came into her mind at the moment, chief and most impor- 
 tant of which framed themsevesthus : " Great God ! where 
 shall we go ? " 
 
92 " THE m'donalds ; 
 
 Gazing sadly around upon her fellow-unfortunates, her 
 eye seemed to read in the woe depicted upon every pale 
 and anxious face, those same terribly significant words : 
 " Great God ! where shall we go ? " 
 
 " God will provide. He always has," mused the pious 
 and confiding lady. " Thus far, through sorrow, want, and 
 woe. His hand has sustained me. The will of God be 
 done." 
 
 Myrtis M'Donald was still more self-reliant. Unlike 
 her feeble mother, she was in robust health, and health 
 always gives courage. The war had taught her fair fingers 
 to toil, and no sentiment of false pride existed within her 
 well-balanced mind to restrain her hands from "earning 
 her bread in the sweat of her face." 
 
 Let us here pause to pay a passing tribute of profound 
 admiration to this noble trait in the character of the women 
 of the South. Although the calamities of war, relentless 
 devastation, ruthless spoliation, and the unsparing torch 
 hurled thousands from comparative ease into the jaws of 
 poverty, stnick down hundreds from affluence to sudden 
 pauperism, but few failed to struggle successfully, hand to 
 hand, with grim want ; and, though toiling far more labo- 
 riously than they had ever asked their servants to toil, ever 
 shining and resplendent as ladies, as noble, patriotic, all- 
 enduring, were the unconquered women of the South. 
 When unassailed by the diseases ever attendant upon sud- 
 denly changed life and condition, they fought with their 
 
93 
 
 needles, their looms, tlieir spinning-wheels, ay, with the 
 hoe and the plough, as defiantly, as heroically as their 
 bearded husbands, sons, and kinsmen in the field of battle. 
 They willingly gave their all to the cause of their coun- 
 try. Their relations, their homes, their servants, their 
 jewels, their comforts, their luxuries, they withheld nothing 
 save their honor, and thus has the glory of the maids and 
 matrons of the South emerged from the din and shock 
 and ruin of those four years of terrible war, undimmed, 
 fresh, and sparkling, the immortal admiration of the 
 world. 
 
 As we have mentioned elsewhere, the women of the 
 South, near the close of the struggle, when they had no 
 more to give, were forming associations to sell their beau- 
 tiful locks to the barbers of France, that the sinking treas- 
 ury of the land they loved might be sustained. 
 
 The history-famed patriotism of ancient Greece, Rome, 
 and Carthage did not surpass that of the women of the 
 South. 
 
 After a tedious and sorrowful journey of many weary 
 hours, the M'Donalds found themselves within the Confed- 
 erate lines, once more beneath the ill-starred banner which 
 still floated defiantly in the fierce grasp of Hood and Hardee. 
 
 Among the first to greet them, and to attend to their 
 immediate necessities, as well as to those of other unfortu- 
 nate refugees, was General Hood himself, who had known 
 the late Colonel Hardeman McDonald. He was upon the 
 
94 
 
 eve of that northern march which resulted so fatally in 
 Tennessee, months afterward, and therefore could devote 
 but little time to any particular person ; but through his 
 kiiidness the ladies experienced many comforts which they 
 would not otherwise have received. 
 
 " Where shall we go, Myrtis ? " asked Mrs. McDonald, 
 as they gazed in bewilderment about them upon the crowd 
 of refugees and soldiers. 
 
 " Yonder comes one who may aid us," exclaimed the 
 young lady in a joyful tone, and pointing toward a troop 
 of cavalry. 
 
 Looking quickly in that direction, Mrs. M'Donald be- 
 held Captain Frank Bartow galloping toward them. 
 
 " Ah ! I expected you would come," said the young 
 officer, as he halted his horse near them, and sprang to the 
 ground. " Indeed, I knew Sherman's magnanimous order 
 would force you to hurry from Atlanta. And now where 
 are you going?" he continued, after exchanging a hearty 
 salutation with each. 
 
 Captain Frank Bartow had unproved greatly in appear- 
 ance since we saw him pale and feeble upon that sorry 
 horse in Atlanta. His eye was brighter, his complexion 
 fresher, and his step quick and firm. * 
 
 " Where are we going ? " repeated Mrs. McDonald, 
 mournfully. "Indeed, that is the question which drives 
 us nearly crazy, Frank. Here we are, safe out of Federal 
 hands, and you see what we have been able to bring with 
 
95 
 
 us — two bundles ; and old Myra carries her dear master's 
 picture — " 
 
 " Intend to freeze to it twill tlie war is ober," replied 
 Myra, enthusiastically, *' an' den hang him up in de parlor 
 again, please God ! " 
 
 " I thought you would be at a loss where to go," con- 
 tinued Captain Bartow, " and have been speaking to a 
 relative of mine who resides near Oxford, in Newton 
 County. He is here, somewhere; I will hunt him up 
 presently. He is a member of the relief committee from 
 that county — " 
 
 " But, Captain Bartow," exclaimed Myitis, " you can- 
 not expect that we can consent to become a burden to your 
 relative — " 
 
 " My dear young lady, please do not say a word," in- 
 terrupted Captain Bartow. " I have a kind of right to 
 take care of you — but here comes my cousin, Mr. Alex- 
 ander." 
 
 " I know him very well," said Mrs. M'Donald, as she 
 extended her hand to an aged, white-haired gentleman who 
 joined them. 
 
 He had been a noble-looking man in his prime, and, 
 although nearly seventy winters had frosted his thin locks 
 until they were as white as snow, and feeble health had 
 greatly impaired his once-powerful frame, he was still an 
 imposing-looking gentleman, despite the stoop in his 
 shoulders, the crutch stick in his hand, and the well-worn 
 
96 THE m'donalds 
 
 suit of brown jeans. His clear blue eye was still brigbt 
 and beaming, and a genial smile was engraved around his 
 handsomely-cut hps. 
 
 " I have heard all about you, Mrs. M'Donald," said the 
 old gentleman, heartily, in a tone which showed that his 
 age had not touched a deep and prepossessiDg voice. 
 " Frank and I have arranged the whole matter. You and 
 Miss Myrtls, who, I see, has continued to increase in beauty, 
 are to go with me to my place near Oxford. You can 
 remain as long as you Hke — I hope until the war is over. 
 My wife will be happy to welcome you to all that we have 
 left — and that is enough to live on for a time. Sherman, 
 I think, will have to look to his rear, and I hope he will 
 soon be tossed out of Atlanta." 
 
 The old man, always remarkable for his happy dis- 
 position, was as hopeful as ever, and it was soon resolved 
 that the M'Donalds should accompany him to Newton 
 County. 
 
 " As for me," said Captain Bartow, " I go with Gen- 
 eral Hood, hoping to fall in with my old leader. General 
 Wheeler." 
 
 Parting was again hasty, but before the young officer 
 rode away, he said to his friends : 
 
 " Yonder comes some one \vhom you have never seen, 
 and yet he is a very important personage in our hard- 
 pressed Confederacy, and is to review the army to-mor- 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 97 
 
 Looking in the direction Captain Bartow indicated, the 
 ladies saw a party of horsemen riding a few paces from 
 them, bnt, knowing all of them except one, they fixed their 
 eyes upon that one. 
 
 The stranger was a tall, thin gentleman, with a very 
 military posture in his saddle, a look of extraordinary res- 
 olution deeply engraved upon his attenuated features. 
 
 " It is our President ! It is noble Jefferson Davis ! " 
 burst from the lips of Myrtis M'Donald, who, in common 
 with all patriotic women of the South, held the distinguished 
 chieftain of the Confederacy in profound love and rever- 
 ence. 
 
 "Yes, it is President Davis, who has more weight, 
 more responsibility upon his shoulders than any other 
 leader in Christendom," said Captain Bartow, uncovering 
 his head as the great statesman rode rapidly past. " If 
 his countrymen gain their independence his name will rank 
 second only to that of Washington ; if his cause falls, as it 
 appears it must, then Jefferson Davis will be branded as a 
 rebel and a traitor, and, if captured, will be shut up in a 
 dungeon, like a felon, loaded with chains, assailed with 
 contumely — perhaps (may God forbid !) led to a scaffold." 
 
 " All the bayonets of the North can never thrust from 
 my heart the love, the respect, the reverence I feel for the 
 first choice of my country ! " replied Mrs. M'Donald. 
 " Whether he falls or rises, he will ever be dear to the 
 hearts of all true Southerners." 
 5 
 
98 THE MCDONALDS: 
 
 " No doubt of that," remarked Mr. Alexander, quietly, 
 " but the sins of the Southern people — their failures being 
 considered sins by their enemies — will be visited upon the 
 head of their cliief. But, come ; let's us hope that no such 
 melancholy catastrophe awaits the Southern Confederacy. 
 Cheer up ! that's my motto. Come, ladies, we will have 
 to take a long and circuitous wagon-ride — rough travelling, 
 and a very sorry team, too, but the best that I can find. 
 Do your talking at a double-quick, while I hunt up my 
 team." 
 
 The old gentleman hurried away, and Captain Bartow 
 received from the M'Donalds a hasty but succinct sketch 
 of their trials in Atlanta, to all of which he listened 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I hope I may have the fortune some day to meet 
 Major Inqng as a friend, and never sword in hand," re- 
 marked the generous Confederate. "He has gained my 
 eternal gratitude for his kindness. Flaskill ? I will remem- 
 ber his name. Mr. Beth Cashmore, I fear, will be very 
 careful not to put his hooked nose outside of the Federal 
 camp." 
 
 The return of Mr. Alexander soon broke off the con- 
 versation, and Captain Bartow again bade his friends fare- 
 well, only lingering to see them depart, hauled away in a 
 wretched wagon, drawn by four miserable mules. 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed the young oflScer, as he gazed after 
 them, " where now is that magnificent carriage, and those 
 
ORj THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 99 
 
 blooded horses, behind which the wealthy M'Donalds used 
 to ride? No doubt some abolition dame flaunts to church 
 in that same carriage upon holy Puritanic soil, and thanks 
 God that she never owned negroes ; and as for the horses, 
 poor fellows, their bones arc bleaching in Northern Geor- 
 gia, no doubt." 
 
 Owing to the roughness of the roads, and inefficiency 
 of their team, the M'Donalds did not reach the home of 
 Mr. Alexander until the third da}^ after parting with Cap- 
 tain Bartow. 
 
 " Here is my home," said Mr. Alexander, as they halted 
 before an elegant mansion, but whose outward appearance 
 bore that strange look of decay which had begun to fall 
 upon the habitations of the Southerners. " I used to take 
 pride, ladies, in the appearance of my home ; every man 
 should do so, but the fear that all my labor will be lost, as 
 the abolitionists have passed a bill confiscating all rebel 
 property, prevents me from doing more than merely patch- 
 ing up." 
 
 The old gentleman's tone was quite sad, and the ladies 
 saw that his eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " Not only that, and that is bad enough — the thought 
 that some base fellow may possess the fruits of my toil for 
 more than half a century, or that the place may be burned 
 dow^n — bad enough, all that — but it is the reflection that 1 
 have no children now to inherit after me. But yonder comes 
 ray dear wife — very old, and feeble too, as you perceive by 
 
100 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 her slow and painful approach. But she is all that is left 
 to me now, and therefore very dear to me." 
 
 It was affecting to see the old gentleman hasten to meet 
 the aged partner of all his joys and sorrows — all sorrows 
 now, and to see him greet her, as affectionately as if they 
 were still in the prime of rosy-lipped youth. Age, nor sor- 
 row, had quenched the warm love which made their old 
 hearts one, and hand in hand the pair hastened hack to 
 the wagon to welcome the refugees from Atlanta. 
 
 " Come into the house, ladies," said the old white- 
 hau-ed lady, as her husband assisted the McDonalds from 
 their uncomfortable quarters in the * shackly wagon.' *' I 
 am very glad that you have come, for we are quite lonely 
 now." 
 
 Myrtis noticed that the voice of the old lady was sadly 
 tremulous as she used the word " now," and she returned 
 her motherly caress warmly. 
 
 Glancing toward Mr. Alexander, she saw that he had 
 hm-ried to a corner of the front yard, and was kneeling in 
 prayer before the tombstones of three graves. 
 
 " They are the graves of our three sons," sighed Mrs. 
 Alexander, as she brushed a tear from her cheek. " James, 
 Henry, and Edward, all gi-ew to manhood, and gave fair 
 promise of useful lives. But James was killed in Virginia, 
 Henry in Tennessee, and Edward before Atlanta, My hus- 
 band never rested until he brought the bodies of our poor 
 boys home, and buried them there in that corner; where, 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 101 
 
 when little curly-liaircd boys, tlicy used to love to play — it 
 was tlieir favorite spot — God bless tbem ! and every day 
 their poor fother goes there to pray for strength to bear up 
 under his great affliction." 
 
 Tears fell freely from the eyes of the M'Donalds as they 
 listened to this affecting tale, and Mrs. McDonald wept bit- 
 terly as the faces of her five slain sons arose in her 
 memory. 
 
 "Bear up, my child," said the aged hostess, pressing 
 the hand of the widow, " God puts many crosses upon us, 
 but He does it all for our good, all for our good, never 
 doubt it. Perhaps our children — I have heard that you 
 have lost several — are spared many trials in being taken 
 from this world. God gave them to us, and we gave them 
 to our country. I have a dear and lovely daughter, too, 
 but she is in Virginia, trying to get through to Elmira, in 
 New York, where we have heard her husband is a pris- 
 oner, sick and languishing." 
 
 They found a quiet and comfortable refuge there, in the 
 home of the hospitable old pair, and soon came to regard 
 them as relatives, and not as strangers. They found em- 
 ployment, too, in spinning, weaving, and knitting for the 
 ragged soldiers of their impoverished land, and so time 
 stole on until the rumor came, in the latter part of Novem- 
 ber, 1864, that Sherman had evacuated Atlanta, and was 
 plunging through Georgia, sword and torch in hand, march- 
 ing with a devastating front sixty miles broad. 
 
102 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COMIX G TEMPEST 
 
 The rumor, in its wildest form, was true. Sherman, 
 with sword and torch, was plunging toward the sea, and 
 hapless Atlanta was again crushed, mutilated, nearly anni- 
 hilated, by those who had depopulated her, and were una- 
 ble longer to hold her. 
 
 On the 12th of November the powerful right wing of 
 that vast army moved from Atlanta, and began that terrible 
 inarch through a helpless country. On the 14th, the left 
 wing, no less powerful than the right, began its march. 
 
 On page 27 of General Sherman's official report, we 
 read these simple words : 
 
 " In the mean time Captain 0. M. Poe had thoroughly 
 destroyed Atlanta, save its mere dwelling-houses and 
 churches." 
 
 On page 76 the reader will find this remarkable state- 
 ment from the pen of one of General Sherman's staff offi- 
 cers, as he writes of the abandoned city : 
 
 " The hand of Time, with a higher degree of civilization^ 
 can only efface the marks infficted by a warlike occupa- 
 tion." 
 
 Had the Federal been exact in his language, and placed 
 the word "only" before the words "the hand of Time," 
 his meaning would be clearer ; or did he mean that " the 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 103 
 
 hand of Time," potent as it is, and aided by " a higher de- 
 gree of civilization " than has ever blessed this barbarous 
 South, can "only efface the marks inflicted" by the occu- 
 pation of the Federal army, and never restore her former 
 prosperity to the mutilated " Gate City ? " 
 
 Or was this " thorough destruction " of Atlanta a proof 
 of that " higher degree of civilization " so greatly lacking 
 in our benighted land ? 
 
 But Atlanta was " thoroughly destroyed," and many of 
 those " mere dwelling-houses " were destroyed also. Many 
 had been defaced, shattered, ruined by military occupation ; 
 many caught flames from the blazing public buildings, and 
 added their smouldering embers to that vast mass of ruin 
 and misery, the ashes of Southern homes. 
 
 The conqueror, in deserting his costly conquest, dealt 
 the unfortunate city a parting blow, beneath which she 
 reels and staggers to this day, and will probably reel and 
 stagger for many years. 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore, who remained in the city up to the 
 date of its evacuation by the Federals, wisely concluded 
 that it would be dangerous for him to remain behind. He 
 was greatly chag-rined when he learned that his Federal 
 friends were about to leave the city, and that his only safety 
 lay in marching with them. 
 
 He felt quite anxious concerning the wisdom of the 
 step, for he had sufficient sagacity to know that if a pow- 
 erful army of Confederates should check Sherman's ad- 
 
lOi THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 vance for a single week, the Federal general would be 
 ruined. Nothing but luck, which makes nine-tenths of the 
 greatness of many military leaders, could carry Sherman 
 to tlie sea, and Mr. Cashmore was very uneasy. 
 
 Yet, as he had to go, and could not carry the last resi- 
 dence of the M'Donalds with him, he and his valiant friend, 
 Captain Tom Flaskill, applied the torch to- its deserted 
 walls, as soon as Major Irving vacated the premises. 
 
 It was some satisfaction to the malicious soul of the 
 speculator as he watched the flames consume the last pos- 
 session of his escaped victims. It was by no means all 
 that was craved by his " great maw of revenge,'' but it was 
 something, a delicious morsel, a tidbit, very pleasant to roll 
 under his tongue, and he smacked his thick hps, grinned 
 widely, rubbed his great hands, and winked his toad-like 
 eyes as he contemplated the burning mansion, on the night 
 of the 13th of November, 1864. 
 
 The flames roared through the empty hall, leaped into 
 the plundered parlors, sprang through the vacated rooms, 
 licked the stripped walls, devoured the stairs, reached the 
 roof, and then , uniting in one great pyramid of fire, rapidly 
 reduced the noble mansion to ashes, leaving only the skele- 
 ton chimneys standing, gaunt, grim, and ghastly, to mark 
 the spot where had been a Southern home. 
 
 There were flames in every part of the city, for Atlanta 
 was being " thoroughly destroyed ! " Noble stores, once 
 the busy marts of commerce, splendid edifices, proud tro- 
 
OB, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 105 
 
 pliies of the business world ; grand structures, in wliicli the 
 hardy mechanic had wrought in noble labor ; public build- 
 ings, the result of private and public pride and enterprise — 
 all these went down, crumbling to ashes, dissolving in 
 smoke, vanishing in vapor before Federal torches, blazing 
 to restoi"e the Union. 
 
 But Mr. Seth Cashmore enjoyed the lurid horrors of 
 that scene far more keenly than any mere mercenary who 
 brandished the torch because he Avas paid to destroy. Seth 
 Cashmore had a score or more of private hates and person- 
 al dislikes to gratify, and the license of a military burning 
 gave him ample field to exercise his privileges. 
 
 In after-days, when the refugees, di'iven from Atlanta 
 by General Sherman's celebrated depopulating order, 
 returned to seek their homes, too often for enumeration 
 they saw heaps of blackening ashes, where their homes 
 had been ; or often found merely a stable or a cow shed 
 left. 
 
 Having glutted his appetite for burning, Mr. Seth Cash- 
 more, who had learned where the M'Donalds had sought 
 and found refuge, attached himself to the left wing of the 
 Federal army. His boundless malice had suggested to him 
 that bis hate might still further be gratified ; the fortune of 
 war might again place the persecuted family within his 
 power. He suspected that the march was to be one of 
 unsparing devastation, and he scented a huge spoil ahead, 
 gold and silver plate, gold and silver watches, jewels, rings, 
 5* 
 
106 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 and breast-pins, hoards, '' rebel honrds " of specie ; and he 
 and Captain Flaskill drew dazzling pictures of the riches 
 thej were to snatch from ten-ified rebel men and women. 
 Noble pastime ! Well suited to the taste and talent of 
 Mr. Seth Cashmoro, and spirits like his. 
 
 On page 79 of General Sherman's official report, penned 
 by his stafif officer, the reader will find these signfficant 
 ■words : 
 
 " The order for relentless devastation of the coun- 
 try was strictly carried out." 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Seth Cashmore had seen the order here 
 referred to, by the frank-spoken stafif officer, and at once 
 saw therein his commission as a "loyal man" to devastate 
 to the best of his poor abilities. At all events, he resolved 
 to do so, and therefore attached himself to the company of 
 the valorous Captain Tom Flaskill, as a sutler, for he 
 knew his shining abilities in that line, and judged that 
 he could legitimately, in the way of trade, wrest much 
 booty from that glorious company of " bummers." 
 
 The unfortunate McDonalds who had fled from place to 
 place, since their home in Northern Georgia had gone to 
 add to the immense heaps of the ashes of Southern homes, 
 were again thrown into alarm by the fearful rumors from 
 Atlanta. 
 
 The refngees, with Mr. and Mrs. Alexander were 
 seated at dinner on the 19th of November, when one of the 
 negroes hurried into the room, with the information that a 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 107 
 
 largo body of blue-coated cavalry was approaching the 
 house. 
 
 " I think the woman is mistaken," said Mr. Alexander, 
 as all hastily arose, and hun-icd to the piazza. " It may be 
 a body of Confederate cavalry. I place no credit in these 
 wild rmnors. If Sherman has really evacuated Atlanta, he 
 will aim for Macon." 
 
 Upon reaching the piazza, however, the old gentleman 
 saw his error. Quite a large body of Federal horse ap- 
 peared in sight, and galloped rapidly past the residence of 
 Mr. Alexander, pushing on at great speed. 
 
 " Where can they be going, and after what?" thought 
 the old man, as he gazed after the cavalry. " If they hold 
 on in that direction, they will soon be in Walton County.' 
 
 Not one of the Federals halted until the whole force 
 had passed, and then Mr. Alexander was surprised to see 
 the troop suddenly pause, while one oflScer rode back to 
 the gate cand dismounted. 
 
 "Mother," exclaimed Myrtis M'Donald, "it is Major 
 Irving ! " 
 
 It was that generous oflBcer ; he had recognized the 
 ladies as he galloped past, and, having halted his forces 
 upon a rising ground, returned to speak a few words. 
 
 Both ladies hastened to meet him as he entered the 
 yard, and he smiled with pleasure as he grasped their 
 hands. 
 
 " I was sure it was you," said he, in his pleasant tone, 
 
108 THE MCDONALDS 
 
 " and rode back to see. I am glad that I saw you, and yet 
 very soiTf that you are here." 
 
 "And why sorry, Major Irving?" asked Mrs. M'Don- 
 ald. 
 
 The young officer rephed gravely : 
 
 " Our army is on the march, Mrs. M'Donald, and a 
 portion of the left wing, if not all of it, -will pass through 
 Newlon County. The army is commanded to subsist upon 
 the country as it marches, and to destroy all that it cannot 
 consume, all that may be of the slightest use to the Con- 
 federate Government. Of course there will be much plun- 
 dering of private property, for in so large an army as ours 
 there must be some very bad men, men who will not hesi- 
 tate to oppress the helpless. I hope, however, for the 
 honor of the American name and the glory of the Union 
 cause, no outrages will be committed which shall make the 
 nation blush. Still, I advise you and your friends to con- 
 ceal your more valuable articles, and I will do what I can 
 to protect you, in leaving a guard for a day or two, by 
 which time the danger may be over." 
 
 He turned to his command and beckoned to a subor- 
 dinate, who immediately rode up to the gate to hear the 
 commands of his chief. 
 
 " Lieutenant Giles," said the major, " I suppose you 
 have no objection to doing a httle guard duty. I select 
 you because you are an officer and a gentleman, and ap- 
 preciate the respect due to ladies. Please return to the 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 109 
 
 command and select any one of the men you prefer. Re- 
 main two days, or until the rear has passed, and then hasten 
 to join me at Madison, if possible." 
 
 The lieutenant touched his cap and rode back to the 
 troop, from which he soon returned with an intelligent and 
 manly-looking trooper, who bowed respectfully as he saw 
 the ladies. 
 
 " And now, ladies," said the noble-hearted major, " I 
 have done all that I can do. Should we never meet again, 
 I beg that you will bear me in kind remembrance." 
 
 " Indeed we will, Major Irving," exclaimed the ladies, 
 as he galloped away. 
 
 "Ah, what a pity all our Federal foes are not like 
 Major Irving ! " said Myrtis M'Donald. 
 
 " All ! " echoed her mother, bitterly too, as sha re- 
 membered her dead and her homes in ashes. " Would to 
 Heaven a moiety of them were like him ! He is a Federal 
 Bayard, and I pray he may pass safe through the war, to 
 cheer the heart of his mother, who must, indeed, be proud 
 of so noble a son." 
 
 Myrtis M'Donald had, with feminine ingenuity, gleaned 
 from conversations with the Federal major, that there was 
 another lady in the North who thought highly of him, and 
 she mentally prayed that he might escape all dangers, and 
 live to bless and be blessed by that fair-haired damsel. 
 
 The day passed off in quiet until near the hour of sun- 
 set, although several of the neighbors of Mr. Alexander had 
 
110 TliE MCDONALDS; 
 
 dashed by the house, driving before them mules and cattle 
 to hide them from the enemy. 
 
 AVell-founded reports of the " relentless devastation of 
 the country " were rife, and a general panic was upon the 
 whole population, white and black. 
 
 Mr. Alexander, descended from a noble Revolutionary 
 family, would have remained at his home to brave the 
 storm, even though no Federal guard made it apparently 
 secure. He had no stock to conceal, except the four 
 miserable mules we have already mentioned. The war 
 had long since swept away the numerous draught animals 
 with which he used to cultivate his large plantation. His 
 cattle were also few in number, for nearly all had gone to 
 supply the wants of the soldiers, or of the soldiers' families. 
 A generous and humane man, a type of the great-hearted, 
 charitable planters of Georgia, he had given liberally and 
 continually ; perfectly content so that the independence of 
 the South should be achieved, though he might be left 
 penniless. 
 
 He had no idea of flying from the Federals, though the 
 highly-colored and (alas ! for the honor of the American 
 name) too truthful reports of Federal barbarities might 
 terrify the heart of a stronger and younger man than old 
 silver-haired Jerome Alexander. 
 
 The great hostile host, numbering, some said, nearly 
 one hundred thousand formidably armed men, no doubt 
 over seventy thousand, had swung loose from " thoroughly 
 
OR, THE ASUES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. Ill 
 
 destroyed " Atlanta, and precipitated itself upon a country 
 almost totally defenceless. No Confederate force of strength 
 was between Shennan and tlie sea. Hood and Ins gallant 
 army, at that time, were in Tennessee, pushing General 
 Thomas back upon Nashville, and General Sherman had 
 no opponents save a few thousand raw militia, aided by 
 General AVliceler's small cavalry command. 
 
 But the Federal general, whether in pursuance of a de- 
 termined policy of devastation, or prompted by a fear of 
 imminent danger, moved and struck with the fierceness of 
 a merciless victor. Columns of Federals, numbering thou- 
 sands, swept like hurricanes of wrath and destruction 
 through the defenceless counties of Fayette, De Kalb, 
 Spauldhig, Newton, Walton, Henry, Morgan, Jasper, Bibb, 
 Putnam, Hancock, Baldwin, Washington, and all those 
 counties of unhappy Georgia smitten by the furious swoop 
 of that fearful march to the sea, whose annihilating track 
 is marked to this day, and will be marked for many a year 
 to come, by the ashes of Southern homes. 
 
 The most sluggish imagination can easily depict the 
 vastness of the devastation inflicted upon the helpless peo- 
 ple of Georgia by those crushing columns of thousands 
 and tens of thousands of vindictive foes, when we find 
 upon page 27 of General Sherman's oflScial report that the 
 invaders " were instructed to live chiefiy, if not solely, upon 
 the country^ 
 
 Here the novelist pauses for a moment, to place before 
 
112 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 the reader, wlio may demand unexaggerated facts, the fol- 
 lowing extract from General Sherman's official rejDort, 
 page 37 : ^ 
 
 " We have also consumed the corn and fodder in a re- 
 gion of country thirty mOes on either side of a line from 
 Atlanta to Savannah, as also the sioeet-fotatoeSy cattle^ hogSy 
 sheep, and ponltri/, and have carried away more than ten 
 thousand horses and mules, as weil as a countless number 
 of their slaves. I estimate the damage done to the State 
 of Georgia and its military resources at one hundred mil- 
 lions of dollars, at least twenty millions of which has in- 
 ured to our advantage, and the remainder (eighty millions 
 of dollars) is simple waste and destruction. 
 
 "This may seem a hard species of warfare, but it 
 brings the sad realities of war home to those who have 
 been directly or indirectly instrumental in involving us in 
 its attendant calamities.*' 
 
 We make no attack upon the great Federal leader of this 
 celebrated march, but merely use his own statement, that 
 the uninformed reader may obtain a correct idea of " the 
 hard species of warfare " the Federal authorities deemed 
 vitally necessary for the subjugation of the Southern Con- 
 federacy. The atrocious maxim that "the end justifies 
 the means " seemed to have become the creed of those 
 who warred to restore the Union, and, most assuredly, the 
 ruin, havoc, misery, and woe along that line sixty miles 
 broad, warranted the unfortunate helpless of Georgia in be- 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 113 
 
 lieviiig that the days of Alaric, or Attila, or Mohammed had 
 returned to curse the earth. 
 
 The sun was still more than an hour high when a troop 
 of mounted Federals halted before the humble residence 
 of Mrs. Jasper, about three miles distant from the house 
 of Mr. Alexander. Mrs. Jasper was the widow of Henry 
 Jasper, who had fallen in one of the battles before Atlanta, 
 leaving a wife and five small children to contend with grim 
 poverty and gnawing want. 
 
 Bitter and sore had been the trials of the poor widow 
 after the death of that beloved one, whose stout heart and 
 sturdy arm had ever liberally provided for his family. But 
 she had planted and reaped, laboring in the field like a 
 slave, through rain and heat, struggling to provide food 
 for the five tender ones dependent upon her unaided exer- 
 tions. 
 
 True, the noble-hearted Jerome Alexander had given 
 her all the aid he could, but as there were scores of suffer- 
 ing families demanding his help, Mrs. Jasper had received 
 but occasional aid. Yet she had gathered the wheat sown 
 by her dead husband, shedding bitter tears as she remem- 
 bered the lost ; she had cultivated and gathered the com 
 planted by that same dear hand, and piously returned 
 thanks to Heaven as she contemplated the fruit of her la- 
 bor, and rejoiced that though her supply was scanty, yet 
 there was enough to feed her little ones until another year 
 might bring better days. 
 
114 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 Of hogs and poultry she had enough to bear her 
 through the comhig winter, and the single cow she pos- 
 sessed, the pet of her children, was a rich ally for her 
 household wants. 
 
 Her house was an humble structure of logs, roughly 
 but comfortably boarded up without, and neatly though 
 plainly ceiled within. It stood not far from the main road, 
 unpretending and unobtrusive, with a small, rudely-fenced 
 yard in front. Mr. Jasper had belonged to that greatly 
 maligned class of Southern citizens, stigmatized by the 
 slanderers of the misrepresented South, under the name of 
 " poor whites," that is, those who owned no slaves, and 
 little, if any thing else, but literally earned their bread in the 
 " sweat of their faces." Let the records of the great Civdl 
 War tell how nobly this class fought ; with what eagerness 
 its humble representatives sprang to arms ; what deeds of 
 heroic courage and endurance they perfcfrmed ; how they 
 suffered, bled, famished, went in rags, toiled in heat and cold, 
 unpaid, half starved, sick, but defiant to the last ; and wept 
 when great Robert Lee gave his spotless sword to victorious 
 Grant. They fought not to defend their wealth ; they had 
 none. They fought not to save their negroes; they had 
 none. They fought not for fame or position ; they cared not 
 for these. They fought for the South, for the honor of 
 their native land, and they have added to the greatness of, 
 the American name, although the cause for which they 
 struggled lies dead and hoof-beaten beneath the war-steeds 
 of the triumphant North. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 115 
 
 Mr. Jasper had given his life to the defence of his 
 country, and the maintenance of his family fell upon the 
 feeble shoulders of his widow. She had discharged that 
 duty well, and in November turned her attention to spin- 
 ning, weaving, and knitting for her fatherless children. 
 
 She was spinning before her fire when her oldest child, 
 a little girl ten years of age, ran in, saying — 
 
 "Mother, mother! Look out of the window at the 
 soldiers! They are Yankees, and have stopped at our 
 gate." 
 
 "May our Father in heaven defend us I" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Jasper, as she glanced through the little window and 
 beheld a formidable troop of fierce-looking and bearded 
 men springing to the ground at the gate. " Surely, a poor 
 woman like me can have nothing these men desire." Yet 
 her heart sank as she noticed two or three wagons also 
 halting before her home. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BARBAROUS DEED. 
 
 The suspense of the poor widow was not of long dura- 
 tion, for the leader of the troop, the brutalCaptain Flaskill, 
 foEowed by Seth Cashmore and several troopers, dashed 
 down the rickety little gate, and unceremoniously stalked 
 mto the room. 
 
116 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 At the same moment reports of fire-arms and the squeal- 
 ing of pigs told that the order " to live chiefly, if not solely 
 upon the country," was being strictly earned out by the 
 troopers scattered over the premises. 
 
 Mrs. Jasper recoiled from the fierce eyes of the " bum- 
 mer" captain, as he swaggered into the house; and her 
 children, poor innocents, clustered around her in speechless 
 alarm. It was " a hard species of warfare," but it was 
 "to bring home the sad realities of war to those who were 
 directly or indirectly instrumental " in forcing those stout 
 men in blue from their peaceful Northern homes to sweep 
 Georgia with the torch and the sword. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the widow, pale but firm, " I and 
 my little ones have never done you any harm. I beg that 
 you will not hurt us." 
 
 " Hurt you ! " roared Flaskill, with one of his huge 
 oaths. " No, we won't hurt you. Do you think we are 
 wolves ? " 
 
 He looked so ferocious, and roared so loud, and swore 
 so fiercely, that the helpless woman might well have 
 thought him a wolf, or a tiger, or a bear ; but she replied 
 meekly : 
 
 " No, sir, not that, but we have seen so much trouble 
 that we are afraid of everybody. I am alone with my 
 fatherless children — " 
 
 " Fatherless ? How came they fatherless ? Was there 
 dad a 'reb,' or did he die before the war began?" de- 
 manded Tom Flaskill. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 117 
 
 " He died in battle, before Atlanta — " 
 
 " Ho ! then he was a rebel ? Well, he was lucky, for 
 after we get the ' reb ' army under, we intend to hang every 
 mother's son of 'em." 
 
 " Your men are killing all my pigs and poultry. We 
 will starve — " 
 
 " Starve then," was the atrocious reply. " We have 
 orders to live off the country. I saw a fine cow — " 
 
 " Please don't kill or carry ofi* our cow," said the eldest 
 little girl, as she boldly placed her little hands upon the 
 arm of the captain, and turned her pleading blue eyes up 
 to his. 
 
 "Bah, you little she-rebel!" growled the unmoved 
 * bummer,' " young as you are, I'll be bound you could 
 mix poison for a blue-coat." 
 
 "Oh, no! We had one here once — a poor, sick, 
 escaped prisoner from Atlanta," replied the little child, 
 earnestly. " And we nursed him until he could travel, and 
 never told on him, because he said his mother in the North 
 was old and sick, and we thought it none of our business 
 to tell on him. Please spare us our cow at least." 
 
 "These rebs can outlie the dogs," said the captain, 
 scornfully. " No, we must have the cow, and all your hogs 
 and chickens, so hush ! Here, see those wagons loaded 
 right off." 
 
 "Yes, we want to get to Alexander's before night," 
 chimed Seth Cashmore, who was closely examining the 
 
118 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 clasps of a large family Bible. " May I never see Boston 
 again, Tom, if the clasp of tliis book isn't pure gold ! " 
 
 " Do not mutilate that," exclaimed Mrs. Jasper ; " my 
 mother gave it to me years ago." 
 
 "Did she? Well, I am greatly obliged to you for 
 keeping it until now. I wonder you didn't subscribe it to 
 the rebel gunboat fund," said Mr. Cashmore, deliberately 
 wrenching the clasp from the Bible and thrusting it into 
 his pocket. " Who'd thought of finding gold in this 
 hovel?" 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if the old she-reb has got a 
 stocking full of half-dollars hid away," cried a trooper, 
 whose long sharp nose seemed to smell gold in the air. 
 " Let's hunt around, boys." 
 
 " Sir," said Mrs. Jasper, in a tone of deep despair, and 
 addressing the leader, " you spoke of loading your wagons. 
 For Heaven's sake, as you are a man, and I trust a Chris- 
 tian, I beg you, I pray you not to carry off the few bush- 
 els of corn and wheat which my own poor hands have 
 made. Look at these five innocent children, and be mer- 
 ciflil ! " 
 
 " Must have every bushel — live off the country — that's 
 the ticket," repHed Flaskill. "If you and your rebel 
 brood suffer, go curse Jeff. Dads and them as put you into 
 it." 
 
 Perceiving that the leader was a hard-hearted wretch, 
 incapable of feeling pity, the disconsolate mother appealed 
 
119 
 
 to the troopers, almost knecliug to them, to spare at least 
 a few bushels of her scanty store of grain. 
 
 But she might as well have appealed to the wind. 
 They gave her no heed, unless a curse or a scoff. She 
 stood bare-headed in her yard, and with streaming eyes and 
 sinking heart beheld her hogs and poultry shot down by 
 bearded men in blue ; saw her only cow slaughtered and 
 cut up, and the pieces tossed into a wagon ; saw all her 
 corn and wheat ruthlessly swept away and heaped into the 
 wagon ; saw her weeping children clinging to her poor 
 homespun dress, their little hearts terrified by the scene ; 
 saw in the ^future rain, storm, bleak winter, starvation 
 rushing down upon her and those helpless ones, and there 
 in her desecrated home, upon the bare earth, she knelt and 
 lifted her hard-worked and plundered hands to Heaven and 
 prayed that a curse, bitter and scathing, might fall upon 
 those who robbed the widow and her orphans. 
 
 Her keen reproaches and sharp supplications infuriated 
 the troopers, and especially their brutal leader. These 
 bummers had ransacked the httle log house, which contain- 
 ed but two rooms ; had plundered even the humble kitchen, 
 finding even there something to tempt their insatiate cupid- 
 ity. True, there was little in that impoverished home 
 worth the carrying away ; yet it is remarkable, as one of 
 the salient traits in the character of that grand march 
 through Georgia, that the most trifling and useless articles 
 seemed to be precious spoil to the "bummers." Pots, 
 
J20 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 pans, kettles, dkhclotJis, any and every thing, were carried 
 away, and strewed along the line of march. 
 
 Thus the home of Mrs. Jasper was thoroughly ran- 
 sacked, even her wearing apparel taken ; and then, pur- 
 posely or by accident, the house was fired. 
 
 Mrs. Jasper was unconscious that her poor house was 
 in flames until the cries of her children called her attention 
 thither. Even then, those flames could have been extin- 
 L;-uished w4th the aid of the troopers, and the poor woman 
 besought them to assist her. But Flaskill was in no humor 
 to allow his men to help to save the home of a rebel. 
 
 " Forward ! push on ! " he shouted, as he sprang into 
 Ids saddle. " Let the rebel roost burn." 
 
 The troop moved away, leaving the unhappy widow 
 and her five little ones homeless, foodless, while the angry 
 flames roared amid the humble rafters, rapidly adding 
 another heap to the ashes of Southern homes. 
 
 When the sun went down fiery and red the darkness 
 of night stole on, and the red glare of the embers revealed 
 the anguish depicted upon the pale face of the houseless 
 widow as she knelt amid her five orphans and cried bit- 
 terly : " God help us ! God help us ! " 
 
 The case of Mrs. Jasper is but one of many similar in- 
 stances in which " the sad realities of war were brought 
 home" to the helpless widows and orphans of Georgia. 
 We read upon page 79 of that oflBcial report the following 
 terriblv sigriificant words : 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 121 
 
 " Tlie plantations of this (Newton) county were tlior- 
 oughly striiiped, and our troops lived on the fat of the 
 land." "Foraging was carried on to an extensive degree." 
 " A party from one of the brigades of the twentieth corps, 
 while out foraging some distance north of the railroad, at 
 Oxford, were fired upon by bushwhackers, and one of their 
 number was killed." 
 
 That was the reason why " here the order for relent- 
 less DEVASTATION of the country was carried out," etc. 
 
 Because one of the thousands of the invaders of the 
 land was struck down by some unknown hand, houses, 
 churches, colleges, hovels, and mansions, libraries, etc., 
 were given to the torch ; that great, savage beast of war, 
 " the order for relentless devastation," was let loose in all 
 its rary, and bidden to do its worst. 
 
 Oh, nineteenth century, ever boastful of thy perfection 
 in morality, humanity, civilization, and Christianity, hang 
 thy head to hide thy blushes of shame, if not thy pangs 
 of remorse, when History shall impale thy dark deeds with 
 her inexorable lance, and hold up to the execration of pos- 
 terity the " order for relentless devastation." 
 
 6 
 
122 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LIVING OFF THE COUXTRY. 
 
 The sun was just disappeariug iu tlie west as Captain 
 Flaskill and his troop approached the residence of Mr. 
 Alexander, and the sharp eyes of the heartless Federal 
 marauder caught the glint of steel near the road-gate of 
 the mansion, as he rose over the crest of the hill which 
 overlooked the premises. 
 
 " Cashmore," said he to the speculator, who rode by 
 his side, " some one is ahead of us at the Alexander place, 
 if that house is the one you mentioned." 
 
 " That is the house," replied Cashmore, as he rose in 
 his stirrups, and leaned forward. " There seems to be a 
 guard pacing before the front gate there; you saw his car- 
 bine shine." 
 
 "Yes, that fellow is doubtless on guard, and there are 
 two horses turned loose in the stable-lot. What does that 
 mean ? " 
 
 "It means that Alexander has prevailed upon some 
 girl-hearted Federal to give him a guard." 
 
 ** Very little heed will Tom FlasMll pay to any guard, 
 were he placed by Shei-man himself," growled the marau- 
 der, in high indignation. " But I suspect this fellow was 
 posted by Major Irving. He was to push on to "Walton 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 123 
 
 County to burn a railroad station, or something of tliat 
 kind." 
 
 " You are riglit," replied Cashmore. '* I understand it 
 all now. Irving took a fancy to those rebels, the M'Don- 
 alds, in Atlanta, and as he has fallen in with them again, he 
 must again display what he calls generosity to the help- 
 less." 
 
 " Just so, curse him ! " snarled Flaskill, as he twisted his 
 red mustache in huge disdain. " I owe him a stab under 
 the fifth rib for that hammering he treated me to in At- 
 lanta — you remember — the flag affair." 
 
 " Oh yes, I shall not soon forget it," replied Cashmore, 
 with an ugly grimace, "nor that Irving was backed by one 
 of his lieutenants — Giles, I think, was the name of the cur." 
 
 " True, Giles is his shadow, and may I die in Ander- 
 sonville if that fellow pacing the piazza so stiffly does not 
 look like Giles ! " exclaimed Flaskill, as he halted to stare at 
 the mansion. 
 
 "That's Giles," replied Cashmore. "I'd know his 
 strut a mile. What shall we do ? " 
 
 " Do ? Do as I please," roared Flaskill, dashing on, 
 Cashmore following closely. " Just let John Giles chirp 
 to me, and I'll let him know the weight of my fist, the 
 beggar. He's one of those milk-blooded hounds that say 
 rebels have rights." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " chimed in the speculator ; who, 
 having no courage of his own, was glad to see that his fero- 
 
124 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 cious comrade intended to disregard the wishes of Major 
 Irving. " Of course, rebels have no rights. Besides, you 
 have orders to cripple the enemy in every way possible ; to 
 consume his grain, carry off his stock, destroy his proven- 
 der—" 
 
 " Certainly I have. That's the plan and policy of this 
 campaign. But, here we are before the front gate." 
 
 " Halt ! — Prepare to dismount ! — Dismount ! " cried 
 Flaskill to his troop, which numbered nearly eighty men, 
 rough, rude, lawless fellows, the offscourings of the Federal 
 army, and much of the character of their captain. 
 
 " Halt ! You cannot pass here," said the guard at the 
 gate, firmly. 
 
 " I cannot ! Who^ placed you here ? " demanded Flas- 
 kill, eyeing the soldier fiercely. 
 
 "I did, Captain Flaskill, with orders fi-om Major Ir- 
 ving," said Lieutenant Giles, who had hastened from the 
 piazza. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Major Nancy ! " sneered the marauding cap- 
 tain. 
 
 *' A better man than any of your breed, Tom Flaskill," 
 retorted the lieutenant, who was a tall, dark-faced man, a 
 native of Pennsylvania, and wholly fearless of Flaskill and 
 his troop behind him. 
 
 "Arrest that man! "shouted Flaskill, at once seizing 
 the opportunity afforded by the indiscretion of the hot- 
 blooded lieutenant. "He is guilty of disrespect to his 
 superior oflScer. Arrest him ! " 
 
OK, TUE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 125 
 
 Jolin Giles was no favorite among the lawless troopers 
 of Flaskill's command, and many of them were indebted to 
 him for lonely hours in the guard-house at Atlanta. A 
 strict and severe discipHnarian, he had never overlooked any 
 misdemeanor which fell under his vigilant eye, and Flash- 
 kill's troopers sprang toward him, hoping he would resist. 
 But the officer saw his peril at once, and though he drew 
 his sword, it was only to snap the blade across his knee, 
 saying : 
 
 " Captain Flaskill, this is all paltry and cowardly sub- 
 terfuge. You did not intend to heed the guard placed by 
 Major Irving. AiTest me, then ; but you will have to an- 
 swer for the act to your superiors in rank, and afterward 
 to me." 
 
 " I am able to paddle my canoe in any puddle you or 
 Irving can make," was the coarse reply. " I command 
 here, sir. There are your horses, and I advise you and 
 that fellow with the carbine to mount and leave." 
 
 "Duck him, cap ! Ride him on a rail!" yelled the 
 troopers. " He's half a rebel himself." 
 
 The disturbance at the gate had attracted the attention 
 of Mr. Alexander and his family, and all had hurried from 
 the house to the piazza. 
 
 A shudder of alarm thrilled Mrs. M'Donald's blood as 
 she recognized the harsh voice of Captain Flaskill louder 
 than all ; but she felt her heart sink with dismay as old 
 Myra came running from the front gate, saying : 
 
126 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 " Missus, pray to de Lor' to sabe us ! dat Seflf Cashmere 
 is wid 'em, and got on an officer's coat." 
 
 " Setli Cashmore ! Then we are to be insulted and ill- 
 treated." 
 
 " Run, missus ! an' young missus too," urged old Myra. 
 " Dar's time if you move quick — ^go troo the back lot, an' 
 take to de woods." 
 
 ''I agree with your servant," said Mr. Alexander, 
 anxiously. '' Cashmore has the power and the baseness to 
 do any thing." 
 
 The shouting around Lieutenant Giles had become very 
 loud, and terrified the ladies greatly. Mrs. M'Donald reso- 
 lutely refused to retreat to the shelter of the woods, but in- 
 sisted upon the instant flight of her daughter, whose peril, 
 she urged, was much greater than hers. 
 
 " I will not move one inch without you, mother," re- 
 plied Myrtis, firmly. " I would die a thousand deaths in 
 those dark woods, imagining yon in peril" 
 
 " Then T will go with you," said her mother, bursting 
 into tears. " God knows I never have turned my back in 
 flight till now, and that I would not now, but for your 
 sake. I know that wretch Cashmore is capable of any 
 villany." 
 
 " Go, den ! go ! " cried Myra. " I'll stay to gib you 
 all de time I can. Leab me to fool Seff" an' de blue locnsses. 
 Dar, now ! go ! Rite troo de garden, ober de fence into de 
 field, den inter de pine thicket — don't hide in dat cane- 
 brake — dey sure to look dar — truss in de Lord ! " 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTIIEEN HOMES. 127 
 
 The McDonalds had no time to spare in securing more 
 clothing, but hurried through the house into the garden, 
 and were in the field beyond when Flaskill called out to 
 his men : 
 
 " Dowu with the fence ! We need wagon room here." 
 
 The powerful hands of fourscore men, surging simul- 
 taneously at the front-yard fence, instantly prostrated it to 
 the ground. It went down with a crash, and struck the 
 earth with a heavy thud, which reached the ears of the 
 fugitive ladies. 
 
 Lieutenant Giles and his companion, perceiving that 
 their presence afforded no protection to the premises, and 
 rightly judging that Flaskill would delight in increased 
 brutality if they remained to see it, mounted their horses 
 and galloped away. 
 
 " Men hke these, and deeds like these," thought the 
 insulted heutenant, " disgrace the Union cause, and serve" 
 only to fui-ther embitter that sectional hatred from which 
 sprang this disgraceful and fratricidal war. Go on, Tom 
 Flaskill ; you will have to answer to me for this outrage." 
 
 " Drive in the empty wagons," commanded Flaskill. 
 " Down with that fence on the left, and drive the teams to 
 the corn-cribs and wheat-houses ! Kill all the stock that 
 is not fit to take with us." 
 
 " It's getting very dark," said a teamster, as he drove 
 his broad-wheeled wagon into the flower-garden, crushing 
 and destroying rare and costly plants, once the pride and 
 delight of Mrs. Alexander and her absent daughter. 
 
128 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 "Dark! You want light," said Cashmore, with his 
 evil leer of malice. " Yonder is the gin-house, and there 
 is a shed crammed with cotton. No doubt this old rebel 
 has subscribed it to the rebel cotton loan." 
 
 " No matter whether he has or not," exclaimed Flasldll, 
 his destructive propensity at once aroused. " We need 
 light. Go set fire to the gin-house and the cotton." 
 
 Tliree or four troopers at once sprang forward to obey 
 a command so perfectly in unison with their instincts, 
 while Flasldll, followed by Cashmore and others, advanced 
 to the piazza. 
 
 Mr. Alexander met them with heroic fiimness as they 
 swaggered up the steps. 
 
 " You have made yourselves at home, gentlemen," said 
 he, in a tone of insulted dignity, *' therefore no welcome 
 from me is necessary." 
 
 " None in the world, my bully old rebel," rephed 
 Flaskill, insolently knocking off the hat of the old gentle- 
 man. " Cashmore, I have never met one of those old 
 white-bearded traitors that didn't try to play the Roman 
 senator, curse 'em ! " 
 
 " That's so," chimed in the speculator, whose balefiil, 
 frog-like eyes were rolling about in eager search of the 
 M'Donalds. " They all think themselves a race of kings 
 — you see, they are cotton kings." 
 
 " I and all that I have is in your power," continued 
 Mr. Alexander, as his wife picked up his hat and laid it 
 aside. " I can make no resistance — " 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 129 
 
 " Suppose you could, old man ; suppose you could," 
 cried Flaskill, briskly, and seeking provocation. " Would 
 you resist, eh ? would you show your rebel teeth ? " 
 
 But the old planter was as wary and prudent as he was 
 courageous. He saw the trap, and avoided it. 
 
 " I never suppose impossibilities — it would be folly for 
 a man of my age to do so," he repHed, quietly ; though his 
 hot Georgian blood boiled in his old shrivelled veins, and 
 fire flashed in his steady eyes. " You come as victors, and 
 the glory of the victor is in being ever mercifal to the 
 vanquished." 
 
 " Here are the keys of the house, and of all our trunks," 
 said meek and resigned Mrs. Alexander, extending several 
 bunches of keys to the captain. 
 
 " Keys ! " snarled the marauder, dashing them from the 
 hand of the lady with a fierce gesture of savage scorn, " I 
 carry my keys to all rebel locks here." 
 
 He clapped his hairy hand upon the hilt of his sabre, 
 and then slapped the holster of his revolver, enforcing 
 these ferocious gestures with an oath. 
 
 The hand which had so gently and beseechingly ex- 
 tended to him the keys was the hand of a woman ; a pale, 
 thin, time-withered, and trembling hand; the delicate, 
 finely-shaped hand of an aged Southern matron, almost old 
 enough to have been his mother's mother ; the hand of a 
 lady, aged, feeble, decrepit : but with a single fierce sweep 
 of his heavy fist he dashed the keys to the floor. 
 
130 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 What cared Captain Jom Flaskill, " bummer " captain 
 of the Federal host, for a lady's soft palm? Nothing. 
 Plunder, rapine, violence, were as the breath of his tiger- 
 like nostrils. 
 
 The rejected keys fell upon the floor of the piazza with 
 a harsh clang, and the aged matron stooped to pick them 
 up, saying: 
 
 " There is little need to be so rude, my son ! " 
 
 My son ! The gentle term should have melted his bra- 
 zen heart, if not to pity, at least to respect. But obdurate 
 ever, and eagerly seeking a provocation to harsher conduct, 
 the red-whiskered pandour of the North raised his heavy 
 boot, and kicked the keys from the piazza, saying, with an 
 oath : 
 
 " There, let them go. You'll have little need of keys 
 or locks when we leave." 
 
 " As God wills, so it shall ever be," replied the aged 
 lady, rising from her stooping posture, and calmly placing 
 her hands upon her husband's arm. 
 
 The words of the marauder had warned her that her 
 property was to be destroyed, and the red glare of the de- 
 vouring flames, which wrapped the gin-house in a fiery 
 mantle, told her that the torch was to wreak its rage upon 
 her premises. At once her heart cast off all thought of 
 perishing wealth, and sprang to guard her husband. She 
 knew him well ; knew that he was wary and cautious, pm- 
 dent and calm, but she knew that a^e had not cooled the 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 131 
 
 hot Alexander blood from which he sprang ; knew that 
 though a thousand stinging insults, a thousand coarse 
 affronts levelled against himself might be met by a scorn- 
 ful yet prudent disdain, Jerome Alexander could not bear 
 to see his wife insulted. 
 
 As she placed her thin and aged hands upon his ami, 
 she felt the tough muscles of the old planter swelling be- 
 neath her touch, and a glance at his face told her that the 
 flames of the burning gin-house were not hotter than the 
 passion which sparkled in his eyes. 
 
 " My husband ! Jerome ! Say nothing, I pray you. 
 Let them work their will." 
 
 The old planter bit his lip, and a tear stole into his 
 eye, a tear of agony, for like all of his race and land he 
 was brave and sensitive. But he restrained himself from 
 smiting the mouth of the marauder with his staff, and, 
 clinchmg his powerless hands, said not a word. 
 
 At this moment Seth Cashmore espied old Myra stand- 
 ing near the hall. 
 
 " Ho ! you are there, are you, black owl ? " said Seth. 
 " You see I am a true bloodhound on the M'Donald track. 
 Where are they ? " 
 
 " Ki ! If youze de bloodhound on de track, you orter 
 know where de ladies is," replied Myra, in no wise daunted 
 by his great black whiskers, hooked nose, and staring eyes. 
 
 "They are hiding, are they ? " 
 
 " You wait twill dey comes dowMi-stars," said Myra 
 
132 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 " Reckon dey ain't half so anxious to see you as you is to 
 see dem. What you want wid my missuses ?" 
 
 " You go and tell them to come down and exchange 
 compliments with me," said Cashmore, in high glee, and 
 supposing that his persecuted victims were in the house. 
 
 " Wait twill I tell dem," replied the old negress, hurry- 
 ing away. 
 
 " And now old man," said Flaskill, we will look into 
 your private property. Got any gold, or silver, or plate ? " 
 
 ^' I see that your wagons are being loaded with what 
 little corn, wheat, and oats I have," replied the old planter. 
 " Do you intend to take all ? " 
 
 " Every grain, by George," swore the marauder. 
 
 " Captain," said Mr. Alexander, " you are not merely 
 depri-sang me and my family, both black and white, of our 
 food for the winter. There are many perishing families, 
 deprived by the war of their male supporters, almost en- 
 tirely dependent upon me for daily food." 
 
 *' So much the. better, my old rebel We are now 
 winding up the war. We are going to starve you out. 
 Those rebel rascals in the army will never lay down their 
 arms while you and other stay-at-home rebels raise corn 
 and wheat. We are on the right track now ; we intend to 
 strike at the women and children; we mean to win the 
 fight if we have to exterminate every Southern man, wo- 
 man, and child. But yon havfi not answered my question. 
 Have you any specie ? " 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 133 
 
 Mr. Alexander was a strictly conscientious man, and 
 paused before he replied. He had no specie of his own, 
 but his son-in-law had confided to his care some three 
 thousand dollars in gold, before he went to war. It was a 
 sacred deposit, to be reserved for the support of his daugh- 
 ter, should her husband fall. For a moment Mr. Alexander 
 hesitated, but he soon replied : 
 
 " My gold and silver I spent long ago, sir. I have 
 none. There are a few silver spoons and some few articles 
 of plate in the house, but surely you are not marauders ? " 
 
 " Silver spoons ! " cried Seth Cashmore, " that is fair 
 game. Where are they ? " 
 
 " Hold ! " cried Flaskill, grasping his friend by the col- 
 lar. " You have a way of grabbing every thing before a 
 man can wink. We share alike in all these rebel pick- 
 ings." 
 
 " Of com'se, of course ! " said Cashmore. " I believe in 
 the fair thing every time." 
 
 " Then we'll hunt together," replied Flaskill, as both 
 entered the house, followed by several of the troop. 
 
 " My dear husband, bear up," said Mrs. Alexander, as 
 they stood alone upon the piazza, the old planter gazing 
 sternly upon his burning property. 
 
 " It is hard to see the reward of years of labor thus 
 swept away," replied Mr. Alexander in a firm tone, though 
 a tear gleamed in his eye. " I am an old and feeble man, 
 Eunice, and have never harmed these men. Yet, I do not 
 
134 THE m'donalds; 
 
 grieve so much over the loss of my mdividual property as 
 I do over the future of my country. This march has but 
 commenced, yet what woe and havoc has aheady been in- 
 flicted ! Think how vast will be the ruin by the time this 
 immense army shall have reached the sea ! My poor neigh- 
 bors ! What a winter is before the widows and children 
 of the Confederate dead ! This is war ; this is the boasted 
 civilization of our race." 
 
 " Jerome," said his wife, " had you not better go away ? 
 I fear that the captain of these men suspects that you know 
 something of the gold of our daughter's husband." 
 
 " And why ? How could he suspect," asked Mr. Alex- 
 ander, quickly. 
 
 " I do not know ; but when you said that you had no 
 specie, he winked at that man Cashmore." 
 
 " Let him suspect," replied Mr. Alexander, sternly. " He 
 cannot force the secret from me. I have heard that men 
 in the uniform of the Federal army have actually tortured 
 men and women of the South. It is honible to reflect 
 that white men, civilized men, citizens of a great and en- 
 lightened nation, should so far retrograde into barbarism 
 as to torture their fellow-creatures. The savage, whose 
 ignorance may palliate his ferocity, tortures for revenge, or 
 because it is the century-clad custom of his ancestors ; but 
 the white man — the Federal — tortures for gold ! We can 
 but place ourselves in the hands of God." 
 
 The aged pair remained silent ; the soldiers began to 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 135 
 
 pass near them, leaving the house with loads of plunder 
 upon their shoulders. 
 
 The scene was one of peculiar terror and excitement. 
 The premises of the helpless planter were brilliantly illumi- 
 nated by the flames of the blazing cotton and gin-house ; 
 and as the troopers had found a much larger supply of fod- 
 der than their wagons could haul away, the torch was 
 applied to that also. 
 
 " The order for relentless devastation was strictly car- 
 ried out ! " 
 
 Many troopers held high revel in hunting out and 
 shooting down the hogs and poultry. The four mules of 
 the planter, all that had been spared to him by the war, 
 were led into the front yard, and being found unserviceable 
 for military use, were shot — a useless deed of barbarity, 
 but the policy of the march was to " consume and de- 
 stroy," and to leave the country " stripped " of every re- 
 source of recuperation. 
 
 Mr. Alexander knew that he was not alone in this ca- 
 lamitous hour, for the horizon, on every side, was red with 
 the flames of burning farms. North, south, east, and 
 west, in whatsoever direction he turned his eyes, he beheld 
 that lurid, ominous glare which told him that the torch of 
 the invader was fiercely at work. The carnival of unifonued 
 incendiaries was in full blast, and as it roared and raged in 
 Newton County, so it was fiendishly jubilant in other 
 counties; so it continued even to the sea, and there. 
 
136 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 changing its course, afterward made red and murky the 
 skies of ravaged South Carolina. 
 
 Blazing Southern homes by scores, by hundreds, fell a 
 sacrifice to the policy of "relentless devastation." The 
 sword, the bayonet, the cannon and the shell had failed to 
 end the determined resistance of the South ; therefore the 
 torch must reduce to ashes the homes of these invincible 
 " men in gray." 
 
 Well might Mr. Alexander exclaim, as he gazed upon 
 the reddened skies : 
 
 " This is not war ; it is extermination ! " 
 
 But his reflections were cut short by a pistol-shot, and 
 a shrill cry of agony from old Myra, and without hesitation 
 he and his wife hastened into the house. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HUMAN HYENAS 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore and his bosom friend, the vahant 
 Captain Flaskill, having provided themselves with lights, 
 thoroughly searched all the lower rooms of the mansion, 
 and appropriated such valuables as they could find, until 
 their pockets were well crammed with silver spoons, forks, 
 cups, mugs, candle-snuflfers, and every article, even to a 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 137 
 
 baby's rattle, wliicli so much as smelled of gold or 
 silver. ^ 
 
 Mr. Cashmore and his friends, much irritated in not 
 finding more of the precious metals, vented their heroic 
 rage by smashing china and glassware, dashing mirrors 
 and crockery to atoms, and stamping upon the fragments. 
 Jars of jellies and sweetmeats were carried to the wagons 
 or thrown upon the floor. Dried and preserved meats, 
 pickles, and the like were fair spoils, and conveyed away. 
 
 Mr. Cashmore first entered the parlor, which was a 
 mere wreck of what it once had been, and was surprised to 
 find old Myra in the act of taking down a portrait. 
 
 " Hey, you wench, what are you doing with that pic- 
 ture ? Who is it ? " yelled Cashmore, advancing his torch 
 of resinous pine. " What ! Hardeman M'Donald again ? 
 So you carried that from Atlanta ! '' 
 
 Flaskill, entering at the moment, instantly recognized 
 the portrait, and cried out : 
 
 " That old rebel again ! Well, I'll spoil his beauty this 
 time." 
 
 With these words, he drew his pistol and discharged it 
 into the face of the portrait. The ball passed through the 
 painted canvas and cut off" a finger from the hand of the 
 faithfal old negress who had endeavored to preserve this 
 memento of her beloved master. 
 
 The pain of the wound caused Myra to shriek, and let 
 fiill the portrait. No sooner was it upon the floor, than 
 
138 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 Cashraore set his heavy foot upon it, and, spinning round 
 upon his iron-shod heel, defaced it forever. 
 
 " Now, then, if there's much beauty left in the face of 
 the proud old tiger who once called me a cut-pui*se knave, 
 you are welcome to it," snarled the speculator, while his 
 ugly features flamed with rage. " I'd feel a gi-eat deal 
 better, I would," he continued, stamping his heels upon 
 the portrait with devilish malice flaring in his great eyes, 
 " if it was the real face of Hardeman M'Donald ; but I 
 ain't done with the breed yet. Where are they ? "Where 
 is the proud old woman who ordered me from her house 
 as if I were a cur ? And where is that dainty daughter of 
 hers ? Come, I have waited long enough for them to w^el- 
 come my arrival. Where are they ? Answer, you black 
 owl, or I'll take more than a claw from your monkey car- 
 cass." 
 
 Old Myra, intent upon sa\dng the portrait, mutilated 
 though it was, snatched it from the floor as Cashmore 
 stepped aside, and darted from the room. 
 
 Cashmore was about to pursue, when Mr. and Mrs. 
 Alexander entered the apartment, and he turned his atten- 
 tion to them. 
 
 " Here, you hoary-headed rebel," said he, grasping the 
 old planter's collar, " I begin to suspect that the McDonalds 
 are not in the house." 
 
 "The M'Donalds? Have you been up-stairs," quietly 
 replied the old man. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 139 
 
 *' No, but some of the soldiers have, and they say there 
 is not a soul up there. But let me see for myself," roared 
 Cashmore, hurrying away. 
 
 " I heard the report of a pistol, a scream of pain, cap- 
 tain, and I see blood upon the floor," remarked Mr. Alex- 
 ander to Flaskill, who was examining a silver-handled pa- 
 per-cutter. " I hope no violence has been done. We are 
 anxious to avoid all cause for violence." 
 
 " Keep your tongue to talk for your own hide," replied 
 Flaskill, as he wrenched the handle from the paper-cutter. 
 " Here, two of you keep your eyes upon this man and wo- 
 man. I'll have something to say to you both pretty soon. 
 I guess we might as well begin now," he continued, glan- 
 cing around at the dark and eager faces of his comrades. 
 " Call Cashmore, some of you, he knows all about the 
 matter." 
 
 The old planter and his wife exchanged glances of 
 alarm ; but though Mr. Alexander grew very pale, his eye 
 remained firm and his features steady. His feeble wife 
 placed her hand within his, and addressed the ma- 
 rauder. 
 
 '* Captain, you cannot mean to harm two old people 
 like us. Look at us. We are both old and feeble. Surely, 
 you do not mean to hurt us. And you, soldiers of a great 
 and victorious people, you will not injure us ? " 
 
 " That is as it may be," replied Flaskill, morosely. 
 " You have lied, at least your husband has — but here comes 
 
140 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 one who can surprise you," he said, as Caslimore entered, 
 savage at not finding his intended victims. 
 
 " Captain," he cried, " they are not in the house — 
 they cannot be far oflf, for I know that I saw both of them 
 standing on the piazza when we halted, or just after." 
 
 " Veiy well," replied Flaskill, quickly. " Sergeant 
 Clarke, take a few men and scour the premises everywhere, 
 and all about the neighborhood. Pick up a nigger or two, 
 and make them guide you to all the hiding-places here- 
 abouts. If they refuse, shoot 'em down. Two rebel women, 
 dressed in black, named M'Donald — they must be near." 
 
 The sergeant hastened away, and Flaskill continued : 
 
 " Now, Cashmore, tell this old rebel what you know, so 
 that he may see his position." 
 
 "Jerome Alexander," said Cashmore, in a bullying 
 tone, as he extended and shook his fist in the face of the 
 old man, " I saw your son-in-law in 1861, in Atlanta, place 
 in your hands three thousand dollars in gold. I know the 
 exact amount, for I saw and heard him count it out to you 
 upon a table in a room of the Trout House in Atlanta. My 
 room adjoined the one in which you and he were ; and the 
 table upon which the money was counted was against the 
 door leading from that room into mine. I looked through 
 the keyhole — not two feet from the gold — it was in half 
 and whole eagles. Do you deny it?" 
 
 " Go on, sir," replied the planter in a resolute voice, 
 while his firm lip seemed to grow hard and white. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 14:1 
 
 "You placed tlic gold in a tin canister, -and over tliat a 
 bag of coarse clotli," continued Caslimorc. " Your son-in- 
 law used these words— I noted them down at the time," 
 said Cashmore, producing a note-book, and reading from 
 it : " ' Keep this money until after the war, father. I may 
 die ; and my wife must not be destitute. The South will 
 be impoverished, even if she gains her independence. Keep 
 the gold for my wife. I know you will. Do not invest it 
 in any thing, nor place it in bank, but hide it, bury it, keep 
 its existence secret, except from my wife and her mother.' " 
 "Well?" remarked Mr. Alexander, as the speculator 
 paused, and replaced his note-book. 
 
 "Well! I say well," cried Flaskill, fired by the calm- 
 ness of the planter. " This is likely to be any thing but 
 well for you, my stubborn rebel, unless you hand over the 
 gold. Three thousand dollars in gold! Come, that is 
 worth hunting for." 
 
 "Then why don't you hunt, sir?" retorted the brave 
 
 old man. 
 
 "You will not give it up, then!" roared Flaskill, grasp- 
 ing his pistol and thrusting its muzzle into the old man's 
 
 face. 
 
 " It is not mine to give, sir. You need not attempt to 
 scare me by putting your pistol in my face. I looked at 
 British bayonets and Indian rifles years before you were 
 bom. I did not flinch then, sir, and I shall not flinch 
 now," calmly replied Mr. Alexander. 
 
142 
 
 " Tie his bands behind him !" yelled Flaskill. " PuU 
 his wife away, and if she don't keep quiet, tie her too." 
 
 Mrs. Alexander had thrown her arras around the neck 
 of her husband when the brutal order to bind him wa3 
 given, but he quietly released himself from her embrace, 
 saying : 
 
 " Eunice, let me bear every indignity they may inflict, 
 rather than see you insulted. Here, Federal soldiers, bind 
 these feeble old hands — they might hurt some of you." 
 
 Neither his age nor his sarcasm had any effect upon 
 those lawless men. They seized him and tied his withered 
 hands behind him with a strong cord. 
 
 Does the reader imagine this all fiction ? Should he be 
 so wofuUy ignorant of the warfare waged in Georgia in 
 1864, and again in 1865, in another grand march, we will 
 inform him that similar and more atrocious scenes were so 
 common then, that no man could narrate one before his 
 hearer would match it with another, and another, until the 
 names of scores of hundreds of victims had been men- 
 tioned — well-known names, revered and beloved names of 
 Georgia — Holts, Harveys, Warners, Carters, Leonards, 
 Howards, Carekers, Husseys — but a volume could be filled 
 with the names of those who were maltreated, buffeted, 
 bound, hanged, tortured, and outraged by "men in blue" 
 in search for hidden gold. 
 
 In the gi'eat majority of cases there was no hidden hoard, 
 but stimulated by the belief that every old white-headed 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 143 
 
 farmer had buried treasure, the invaders hesitated at no 
 violence in endeavoring to extort the supposed secret. It 
 is a sad commentary upon the hcense of military rule, and 
 also upon the vaunted civilization of the soldiers who per- 
 petrated these deeds, when it is stated that white men of the 
 nineteenth century acted the part of torturing savages, and 
 obtained their protection and right to plunder, burn, tor- 
 ture, and hang a helpless population, from that order 
 which our quoted staflf-officer styles " the order for relent- 
 less devastation." 
 
 If the Southern people were rebels, had they been 
 Sepoys, or Ladrones, or Camanches, they were human 
 beings at least ; but they were human beings of the highest 
 and most refined order ; they had at least the rights of 
 brutes, the right to be protected from torture, the right to 
 live. If their stout men were in the army, in open rebel- 
 lion, the fact gave no right to the invader to treat their old 
 men, their women and children like vermin. But the 
 Southern people were so treated, and the fact remains, to 
 sully forever every laurel won by the victors, to steep it 
 in blood and ashes, to scent it with the smoke of burn- 
 ing homes, to cluster around it the memories of starving 
 widows, famishing orphans, and the groans of white-haired, 
 tottering old men, made beggars and outcasts, until the 
 generous bosom of the weeping South gathered them in 
 from the storms into which they were mercilessly hurled. 
 
 " Now do you deny that you received the three thou- 
 sand dollars ? " demanded Flaskill. 
 
144 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 " You have no riglit to ask mc the qucfition. Therefore 
 I refuse to reply." 
 
 " You refuse ! Very well. But unless you tell nie 
 where you have hidden the money, I will burn down your 
 house. But perhaps your wife knows something of the 
 matter," said Flaskill. 
 
 " I do not know where the gold is, sir ; but if I did, I 
 would not tell you," replied the old lady. 
 
 " You wouldn't, you rebel ! " cried Flaskill, imtated by 
 such firmness, and smiting that pale and withered cheek 
 with his open hand. 
 
 *' Ruffian! coward! to strike a woman — an old wo- 
 man ! " exclaimed Mr. Alexander, hoarse with passion. 
 " You did well, scoundrel dog, to bind my hands, or, weak 
 and old as I am, I would tear your throat ! We are in 
 your power. Do your worst with me ; I am a man, but 
 let my wife alone. Wretch, a righteous God will be my 
 avenger ! " 
 
 " Lead him into the yard," commanded Flaskill, *' and 
 if he does not tell where the gold is within five minutes, 
 set fire to his house." 
 
 The old man was dragged violently from his house, 
 shoved down the steps of the piazza, and hustled into the 
 middle of the front yard amid the hootings, curses, and 
 jeers of the troop of " bummers." 
 
 Still his courage and fortitude never forsook him, and 
 his steady eyes flashed defiance upon his abusers. 
 
145 
 
 " He's game," whispered Cashmore to Flaskill. " You 
 can never learn tlie secret from liim, and it is plain tliat his 
 wife does not know where the money is." 
 
 " I have dealt with hard-headed rebels befoie now," 
 replied Flaskill. " It is astonishing how these old fellows 
 will hold out. I have hung several imtil they were nearly 
 dead, and failed to wring their secret from them. What 
 are those in that corner? gravestones ! " he asked, as his 
 roving eye caught sight of the white tombstones, glistening 
 in the firelight. 
 
 " Yes, they are gravestones," replied Cashmore, as he 
 examined these sad mementoes of the dead. " I see they 
 are the graves of three rebels — the sons of old Alexan- 
 der." 
 
 " What safer place to hide the gold in ? " exclaimed 
 Flaskill, with animated tone. " Near Eome, I once found 
 a good haul of plate and jewels hid in a pretended grave, 
 eh!" 
 
 " Let me assert, upon my solemn oath," said Mr. Alex- 
 ander, who overheard this conversation, " that those three 
 graves contain nothing except the coffins and bodies of my 
 three dead boys." 
 
 " I think you are lying," replied the valiant " bum- 
 mer," kicking down one of the headstones. " You are too 
 anxious to keep us from searching." 
 
 " If I am anxious, and indeed I admit that I am, it is 
 because I would not have the last resting-place of my sons 
 1 
 
146 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 desecrated by a vain and sacrilegious search for gold," said 
 the aged planter in a stern and rebuking tone. 
 
 " Bring spades here, some of you," cried FlaskiU. *' I 
 will soon see what is buried here." 
 
 " Man ! be merciful ! Have some shame if you have 
 not pity ! " cried Mrs. Alexander, hastening to the graves, 
 and placing her hands upon the arm of the ferocious 
 captain. 
 
 He cast her aside with a fierce oath, and warned her 
 not to disturb him again. The poor mother could only 
 weep and kneel, asking aid from Heaven to support her 
 under this sad outrage to her beloved dead. 
 
 One of the most repulsive features in that eager search 
 for gold and hidden treasures, which formed so salient a 
 trait in the character of those who disgraced and de- 
 graded the Federal arms, during the invasion of Southern 
 homes, was the desecration of graves. This fact is too well 
 known to need expatiating upon here, and we can only 
 mourn over that fearful depra\dty of the human heart which 
 transformed men into hyenas and jackals; a depravity 
 which did not spring from hatred of the dead, nor from 
 that bitter sectional malice which resulted in the desoUtion 
 of the South ; but which arose from avarice and cupidity 
 of the basest origin, and had full scope for exercise under 
 *• the order for relentless devastation." The same fell spirit 
 is still rampant, for it was but the other day that we read 
 in a New York paper : 
 
147 
 
 "Loyalty Illusteated. — We take the following from the 
 New York Weekly Magazine, July 7th, published by the Amer- 
 ican News Company : ' It has been discovered that the men 
 recently employed by the Government [all loyal of course] 
 to disinter the bodies of our dead soldiers on the battle-fields 
 near Richmond, after having searched the bodies for money 
 and jewelry, pulled open the mouths of the corpses, punched 
 out the teeth, examined if they were plugged, and if they were, 
 cracked the teeth to pieces for the gold-fillings. No insult that 
 rebels have ever offered to the loyal dead can approach in 
 atrocity this most incredible desecration.' " 
 
 Is not this feature of the barbarism of the nineteenth 
 century most horrible to contemplate ? 
 
 Well, this barbarism had full, free, and fearful scope 
 during the Grand March, even unto its end, at Raleigh. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HANGING FOR GOLD. 
 
 Mr. Alexander, unable to prevent the sacrilege 
 maintained a dignified silence, while the " bummers" toiled 
 sharply at the graves. Mrs. Alexander groaned as she 
 heard the fall of the tombstones, but her voice was hushed 
 in speechless woe. 
 
 It was a terrible trial of the firmness of the aged plant- 
 er, to behold those fiend-like ruflSans in their unholy 
 work, to know that the gold they sought was not there, 
 
148 TUE m'donalds ; 
 
 and to feel that a word, a gesture, from liim would pro- 
 tect the dead, and point out the spot where he had con- 
 cealed the money years before. But he knew that his duty 
 to the living, to his son-in-law, to his daughter, and his 
 grandchildren, commanded him to remain silent; and, 
 indeed, such was the Spartan-like fortitude and Roman- 
 like pride of his nature, that it is not at all probable 
 that he would have yielded to compulsion, under any cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 The old man looked on gi'imly, his eyes sometimes 
 wandering from the graves to his sobbing wife, and then to 
 the terror-smitten faces of the few servants who remained 
 upon the premises. Not once did his glance stray to 
 the spot where that for which they sought was hid. He 
 knew that the keen and experienced scrutiny of Cashmore 
 and Flaskill was fixed upon him, and he sought by his air 
 to impress them with the fact that the gold was not where 
 they sought. 
 
 Probably Flaskill became convinced that he was upon 
 the wrong track, from the composed look of the sturdy 
 planter ; for no sooner had the spades touched the coffins 
 than he commanded his men to desist. 
 
 The dead of Mr. Alexander were more fortunate in 
 their repose than many others then beneath the sod of 
 prostrate Georgia. As we write, an instance of the many 
 which occurred, flashes into our mind, and we give it with 
 the true name of the ailiicted family : 
 
149 
 
 In Washington County, Georgia, six miles cast of San- 
 dersville, the Federals of Sherman's army, dug up the body 
 of Mr. Thomas Tanner, in search of hidden treasure ; and 
 though implored by the gray-haired old father to permit 
 him to reinter the corpse of his son, they threatened to 
 blow his brains out if he touched the body. The desecra- 
 ted corpse remained unburied for three days. Nor was this 
 the only instance of the kind in that county ! 
 
 No doubt, had our ^ bummer " captain not been confi- 
 dent that the graves of the three Alexanders contained no 
 hidden gold, he would have rifled the coffins, and been as 
 brutal as his fellow-Federals in Washing-ton County. But 
 there was a scornful and triumphant gleam in the steady 
 eyes of the old planter, which convinced Flaskili that he 
 was wasting time in useless search. 
 
 " Set fire to the old rebel's house !" he shouted. " If 
 that does not bring him to his senses, we will try the 
 rope." 
 
 While these events were transpiring in the front yard, 
 several of the troopers had busied themselves in performing 
 an act of useless and wanton barbarity in the rear yard — a 
 deed often committed by the " bummers " of this march. 
 Having found much more bacon in the smoke-house of the 
 old planter than could be conveniently carried away, the 
 troopers made a layer of Mrs. Alexander's dresses upon the 
 ground ; on this they placed a layer of bacon, shoulders 
 and hams ; then a layer of the clothes of Mr. Alexander ; 
 
150 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 then another layer of bacon ; then another layer of the 
 clothes of Mrs. Alexander, and other apparel of the family ; 
 and so on, nntil there was a great pile of bacon and gar- 
 ments. Covering the heap with bed-clothes, straw, loose 
 cotton, and furniture, these civilized warriors set the heap 
 on fire, and performed a kind of extemporaneous war-dance 
 around the flames, thus resembling evil spirits holding mid- 
 night orgies. The flames gleamed upon their bronzed and 
 bearded faces, as they whirled, danced, and yelled, while 
 the dense smoke and sufibcating stench of the pile added 
 to the hideousness of the scene. 
 
 Hearing the shouts of those in the front yard, when the 
 order was given to fire the house, the whole command 
 mshed into the doomed mansion, torches in hand. 
 
 " Our beloved home will soon be in ashes," said" Mr. 
 Alexander to his wife, as he saw the flaming of the incen- 
 diary torches through tlie windows. 
 
 " God's will be done, my husband ! " replied the meek 
 and pious wife, clasping her withered hands, and raising 
 her streaming eyes to heaven. 
 
 " We have spent many happy years in that house," con- 
 tinued Mr. Alexander, gazing mournfully upon the devoted 
 mansion. " We have loved, and adorned and cherished it, 
 until every timber is dear to us, Eunice. Our children 
 were all bom there. God give me strength to bear up 
 under this chasetisement ! " 
 
 The flames besran to take firm hold of the seasoned 
 
151 
 
 timbers of the house, fired as it was in hundreds of places. 
 The " bummers " dashed in the plastering of the walls 
 with their heels, and thrust fire into these openings, so 
 that the intensity of the heat soon drove them from the 
 house. 
 
 The fire roared and rushed here and there, lapping the 
 edifice from basement to roof, darting its red tongues 
 from doors and windows, hurling great volumes of smoke 
 high in the air ; and, as if inspired with the same vindic- 
 tive rage which had created it, crackling fiercely and loudly 
 as it charged from chamber to chamber and filled the des- 
 ecrated halls of this once-honored Southern home, with a 
 red and sombre torrent of living wrath. 
 
 " You see we are in dead earnest," said Flaskill, as he 
 returned to the side of his aged victim. " You may now 
 know that I shall not hesitate to hang you, if you refuse to 
 tell where you hid the gold." 
 
 Jerome Alexander, a descendant of those brave North 
 Carolinians of the Revolution of 1776, who at Mecklen- 
 burg promulgated the first Declaration of Independence, 
 and on the banks of the Alamance shed the first British 
 blood of that seven years' war for freedom, regarded the 
 truculent "bummer " captain with a stern and steady gaze 
 of fathomless contempt. 
 
 " You may hang me, sir, you may torture me ; but 
 though my frail and feeble body may groan with anguish, 
 my tongue will never betray the secret of another." 
 
152 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 " Jerome, Jerome, my dear husband," said bis weep- 
 ing wife, as sbc clung to bim in her anguisb of heart, *' I 
 know that our son-in-law, and our daughter, would gladly 
 lose ten, nay, a thousand times the amount to save you 
 from injury." 
 
 " That's sensible talk, old lady," cried Flaskill, approv- 
 ingly. " Put it to the obstinate old rebel mule in that 
 style, and you may save his neck from being stretched." 
 
 " Eunice," repUed the firm-hearted old Georgian, turn- 
 ing his steady and heroic eyes upon her, " I know that 
 they would give even their lives to save me from harm, 
 and therefore am I willing to give my life to save them 
 and theii' little ones from starvation. But, had I not even 
 this powerful motive to bind my tongue, these wretches 
 should never force Jerome Alexander to enrich them. Do 
 you, my dear wife, retire to some spot where you can 
 neither see nor hear what they do — " 
 
 " No, none of that," cried the brutal Cashmore, as he 
 grasped the arm of the wife, as she was about to leave the 
 scene, unable to endure the sight of a tortured husband. 
 " You must stay and see the fun. Besides, d'ye see, it 
 will be worse than the rope to him to have you looking 
 on." 
 
 This was a refinement of barbarity not pecuHar to Mr. 
 Seth Cashmore. It is tme, that in some of the many in- 
 stances, in which the ruthless invaders of 1864 and of 1865 
 tortured old white-haired men to force them to reveal im- 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 153 
 
 aginary hoards, the cruel troopers would lead their victims 
 to some retired spot, ashamed or unwilling that the fami- 
 lies of the tortured should witness these revolting atrocities ; 
 but in most cases the heads of fcunilies were tortured be- 
 fore their doors, in the presence of w^eeping, praying, 
 shrieking wives and daughters — thus using a twofold 
 torture, fit illustration of Yankee brutality and Puritan 
 deviltry. 
 
 " Bring a rope ! " commanded Flaskill, fiercely. " I 
 have half a mind to string them both up, back to back." 
 
 This savage threat, however, did not seem to be popular 
 with his men, who called out : 
 
 " No, no. She is an old w^oman, half dead already. 
 Let her go. Squeeze the stubborn old rebel." 
 
 A cord, knotted into a hangman's noose, was cast 
 around the neck of the aged planter — but we will not enter 
 further into the sickening details of the scene. Suflnce it 
 to say, that the unfortunate old man was hanged like a 
 felon to the limb of a tree near the graves of his three 
 sons ; hanged torturingly, again and again, until conscious- 
 ness forsook the battered frame, and not until then did the 
 ferocious gold-mad marauders let the corpse-Hke body fall 
 heavily upon the ground. 
 
 " I beUeve the obstinate old fool is dead, and his secret 
 with him," growled Flaskill. " Well, it was his own fault 
 — he could have saved us all this trouble, as well as his 
 life, by telling where his gold is hid. Come, we have 
 
154 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 finished this business, and not made much either. Let tlie 
 -vvaiTons move on. Fall in, men, fall in. We have other 
 places to visit. Ilurry up, hurry up ! The old rebel has 
 delayed us. — Well, sergeant, couldn't you find any thing 
 of those M'Donalds?" 
 
 " Not a trace, captain," replied the sergeant. *' There 
 are too many good hiding-places around, and we know 
 nothing of the country." 
 
 " Veiy well. Let them go. AVe'll take our revenge 
 out of some other rebels. Prepare to mount! Mount! 
 Forward ! " 
 
 Mrs. Alexander had thrown herself upon the body of 
 her husband as soon as it was abandoned by the " bum- 
 mers ; " and, regardless of all else, endeavored to restore 
 him to life and consciousness. She loosened the cruel cord 
 from his lacerated neck, chafed his hands, and used every 
 means in her feeble power to recall the light of life to his 
 eyes. 
 
 The blare of the Federal bugle as the troopers hurried 
 to their saddles seemed to reach the stunned ears of the 
 planter, for bis eyes lost their glassy stare, and his lips 
 essayed to speak ! 
 
 " Thank God ! he lives," whispered the poor wife, as 
 she beckoned to a terrified negress standing near. " Go 
 bring some water from the spring — the well is destroyed — 
 be quick !" 
 
 The negress hastened away, w^hile the wife, trembling 
 
155 
 
 lest the departing troopers should discover that their vic- 
 tim still lived, and return to make sure their butchery ; and 
 trembling still more lest the bright fire gleaming again in 
 those beloved eyes should suddenly and forever die out, 
 poured forth her muttered and incoherent prayers to 
 Heaven for aid and protection. 
 
 Her home, her beloved home, was totally destroyed. 
 Mansion, kitchen, out-houses, smoke-house, cariiage-house, 
 stables, cabins, cribs — all were red-hot embers, or heaps of 
 smouldering ashes. All her male sei 7ants had been swept 
 away, gone to swell that host of miserables which dwindled 
 and scattered their bones from Atlanta to the sea. Her 
 plantation was stripped, all worldly goods remorselessly 
 swallowed up by flame and robbery, but she thought not 
 of these. Her husband, gasping for life, lay before her, 
 and her whole soul was attentive to him and God alone. 
 
 The marauders were far away ; she heard their hateful 
 bugle-note echoing amid the distant hills, when a voice 
 spoke by her side. 
 
 " Great Heaven ! have they murdered the noble old 
 man ? " 
 
 She turned and beheld Mrs. M'Donald kneeling near 
 her, while the graceful form of Myrtis bent over her 
 mother. 
 
 " Ah, I fear they have, I fear they have," replied Mrs. , 
 Alexander. ** And yet his eyes seem so clear and intelli- 
 gent ! Look ! Do you think he will live ? Speak to your 
 poor wife, Jerome, ray husband." 
 
156 
 
 Mrs. McDonald, always more or less an invalid, had 
 ■with lier both cainplior and hartshorn, and as the negrcss 
 returned with a gourd of water she mingled a few drops 
 of the medicines with the liquid, and succeeded in making 
 the old planter swallow it. 
 
 He struggled a moment for his choked voice and 
 found it. 
 
 "I live — I am better. Wife — are they gone? " 
 
 " He speaks ! Blessed be the name of the Lord ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Alexander. "Yes, Jerome, they have gone." 
 
 " Help me to my feet," said Mr. Alexander, huskily. 
 
 " Not yet," replied Mrs. M'Donald, whose experience 
 in the Atlanta hospitals was now of great use. " Lie still 
 as you are until your strength comes back. Oh, if we had 
 some spirits or strong cordial ! " 
 
 " Wait, missus," cried old Myra, who had joined the 
 party. " Dar's a jar of cherry brandy left in de yard by 
 dem locusses. Juss hold on." 
 
 The old negress sped away, and soon returned with the 
 jar ; and, after the planter had partaken freely of its stimu- 
 lating contents, he again asked to be aided to his feet. 
 
 With the assistance of the ladies he was soon erect, and 
 gazing about him. 
 
 The embers of his late happy home glared in his eyes, 
 but he turned his gaze for the first time that night to the 
 spot where was hidden that maddening yellow dross for 
 which so many sell their eternal souls. 
 
157 
 
 In a hollow between the forks of a tree, upon a hmb of 
 which he had been so dreadfully tortured, covered with 
 rotting wood and leaves, over which had grown a thick 
 covering of moss and mould, was hidden the canister of 
 gold. 
 
 His eyes glistened as they noticed that the green rich- 
 ness of the mould was undisturbed, and a smile of pride 
 and triumph curled his pale lip as he whispered to his 
 wife : 
 
 " It is still safe ! you cannot tell how I feared for my 
 secret when that trooper climbed right over the spot to 
 arrange his rope for my hanging." 
 
 Mrs. Alexander shuddered as she glanced toward the 
 tree, but made no remark. It was a secret which had 
 nearly, might yet cost her husband his life, and she turned 
 her thoughts from it gladly. 
 
 "You were fortunate in hiding, Mrs. M'Donald," 
 continued the old planter, his voice growing stronger as he 
 spoke — " very fortunate, for that fellow Cashmore meant 
 the basest usage toward you and your daughter." 
 
 So was Mr. Alexander fortunate, in not being left a stiff 
 and staring corpse by those merciless marauders — far 
 more fortunate than scores of others who were literally 
 hanged or tortured to death during that dreadful march 
 under " the order for relentless devastation." 
 
 "It seems we were indeed fortunate," replied Mrs. 
 M'Donald, as she glanced upon the red and smouldering 
 
158 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 ruins around. " We hid in the pine thicket, and were 
 very nearly found by a party of troopers who evidently 
 were searching for us. Heaven knows what agony of mind 
 we suffered as we heard the fierce oaths and horrible lan- 
 guage of those men. They seemed to know, or at least to 
 hope, that we were within hearing, for they called us by 
 name, and uttered the vilest threats of what would be our 
 fate, should they catch us. O God ! can it be possible 
 that those men were born of woman ? Awful ! Such base, 
 inhuman, degrading threats ! I shudder as I recall them. 
 I shall shudder to my dying day as I remember their dread- 
 ful speech.'- 
 
 The noble and refined lady, nurtured in the lap of 
 wealth and esteem, living in an atmosphere of high-bred 
 politeness and scrupulous respect for women, until the 
 abolition crusade swept over the unhappy South, hid her 
 pale face in her trembling hands, as did her no less shocked 
 daughter, as the remembrance of what had passed flashed 
 upon their minds. 
 
 Well might they shudder. The sergeant deputed by 
 the infamous Flaskill to seek for them, was one of the vilest 
 of the vile ; one of those ribaldry-loving swine in the sem- 
 blance of humanity, who delight in villanous oaths, atro- 
 cious blasphemy, and foul language. While beating about 
 the woods with his scarcely less debased comrades, seeking 
 eagerly for the trembling ladies, who lay cowering beneath 
 a heap of decayed twigs, branches, and pine-straw, the 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOnTHEBN HOMES. 159 
 
 inhuman wretcli had filled the air ^.ith oaths and awfuUy- 
 spol^en threats of violence worse than death. Crouching 
 shuddering, quivering in the very extreme of terror, hat 
 delicate mother and that tender daughter were forced to 
 hear every vile word. Sometimes, though tremblmg even 
 to breathe, lest their hiding-place might be revealed by a 
 sigh, they stopped their ears, to shut out the torrent o 
 iocious ribaldry and obscenity rolling from the oud 
 tonguesoftheferocious troopers as theyflounderedamidthe 
 
 thicket; then anxious to know if their pursuers were st^ 
 near, they would listen again, until shocked and mutilated 
 „,odesty demanded instant stoppage of the sense of hearing 
 And what dreadW fate would have been theirs had 
 their infuriated and unscrupulous seekers found them m 
 their covert! Let the fate, sad, melancholy, maddening 
 fate, of many a hapless Southern maid and matron, victims 
 oftLatciJ war, answer. We dare not. Letthe dishev- 
 elled hair, the staring eyes, the incoherent speech the 
 craved intellects and broken hearts of many an inmate of 
 Southern lunatic asylums, reply. We will not. Let gib- 
 bering idiocy, frenzied grief, maddening shame, raging 
 anguish, moaning sorrow grovelling amid the ashes of 
 Southern homes, reply. We cannot. 
 
 u May God help us all to bear our trials ! remarked 
 Mr. Alexander. "I see that the enemy has left us nothing, 
 not even a shed for shelter. Poor things," he continued, 
 ga.in. pityingly upon a group of negresses and their 
 
ICO THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 children, " they say they do all this that you may be free. 
 But I sec none of the men, nor any of the larger boys." 
 
 " De Yankees done drived and earned off all our hus- 
 bands, massa, and all de grown-up boys," replied an old 
 crone, who seemed to be the ancestress of all. " Gwinc to 
 make sojers of dem, day said." 
 
 " Did they go willingly. Clary ? " 
 
 " Some jus' foolish 'nuff to go any whar," replied Clary, 
 rocking herself to and fro over a sick negro child. " But 
 dem as wasn't willin' to go, day knocked down wid derc 
 guns, and made 'em go anyhow. 'Fore God, dis chile is 
 mity sick, an' all de beds done burned up. De Lor' help 
 us, massa." 
 
 " Amen ! " replied Mr. Alexander. " We are indeed in 
 a fearful strait, and need help. You must shift for your- 
 selves, poor creatures. You see how our enemies have left 
 us. Scatter over the country. Those who have houses 
 left will shelter you. Come, wife, and ladies, some of our 
 neighbors may have a house left to welcome us to its shel- 
 ter for a few days." 
 
 But help soon amved, in the person of a poor but vigi- 
 lant neighbor, whose humble home had escaped the rush 
 of the invading host. At a distance he had seen the burn- 
 ing home of the Alexanders, and when assured that the 
 enemy had passed on to destroy elsewhere, had hastened 
 with his wagon, drawn by a single broken-down horse, to 
 offer the shelter of his log cabin, which was accepted 
 gratefully. 
 
161 
 
 Tlie helpless negresses and their children remained for 
 hours, staring at the embers and ashes of what had ever 
 been to them a noble, a generous, a patriarchal home ; 
 wondering, in their simple intellects, if to make negroes 
 free it was necessary to bum their homes, destroy their 
 food; and ruin the only persons to whom they could look 
 for aid. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ALWAYS WOUNDED. 
 
 It is impossible, in a work of this size, to follow 
 minutely the wanderings, trials, and miseries of theM'Don- 
 alds up to the day when they found shelter beneath the 
 roof of a relative in the capital of the Palmetto State, in 
 February, 1865. Their mournful history was very similar 
 to that of thousands who were driven from their blazing 
 homes by Federal torches. 
 
 The hosts of Sherman had swept on to the sea. The 
 Grand March had been made, crushing the feeble though 
 pertinacious resistance of the few thousands of ^' ragged 
 rebels " who opposed its ever-moving avalanche of " re- 
 lentless devastation." 
 
 " Thirty miles on ■ either side of a line drawn from 
 Atlanta to Savannah," have been devastated. How fear- 
 
162 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 fully, terribly devastated may be imagined by reading 
 page 37 of General Sherman's official report, from wbicli 
 wo have repeatedly quoted. 
 
 The corn, fodder, wheat, grain, sweet-potatoes, cat- 
 tle, hogs, sheep, poultry — all that could be used to sustain 
 human life, was " consumed " by the immense host, march- 
 ing under the flag of the Union to the dread music of 
 that " order for relentless devastation," all along that vast 
 track over which the red and flaming wrath of the con- 
 queror tramped. 
 
 The ravages, the ruin, the woe of that celebrated march 
 over the ashes of Southern homes, will compare with, if 
 not exceed, the wreck made in India by Warren Hastings. 
 Court-houses, churches, academies, public and private edi- 
 fices mark still, with piles of ashes, the path of the de- 
 stroyer ; but it is in the hearts of the plundered and ruined 
 that we are to find the more terrible records of that time. 
 
 The savage treatment to which Mr. Alexander had been 
 subjected, resulted in his death within a few weeks after 
 the destruction c^f his home. A fi-ame so aged and feeble 
 could not long support the shock of the hangman's rope. 
 He died a patriot, praying for the welfare of his country ; 
 he died a Christian, forgiving his enemies ; he died a mar- 
 tyr, with the scar of the rope upon his neck. 
 
 And thus perished many other aged citizens of Georgia 
 and of South Carolina. And many are slowly but surely 
 and painfully perishing, as we pen this true record — their 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 163 
 
 timcworn frames crushed to premature graves by the tor- 
 tures of the rope, the fist, and the lash, which they suflfered 
 at the hands of men in blue, commonly called " bummers." 
 Mrs. Alexander did not survive her aged husband longer 
 than to see his body hidden beneath the clay. 
 
 The gold confided to the faithful care of the old planter, 
 we may as well state here, in 1865, was secured by his 
 widowed daughter, and was her only support, for her hus- 
 band died in a Northern prison, frozen to death. 
 
 Let us return to the M'Donalds. The name of the rel- 
 ative in Columbia, whose generous roof gladly gave the 
 wanderers shelter, was Huger, a branch of that noble family 
 so famous in the annals of South Carolina. 
 
 The males of the family were in the army of General 
 Johnston, and only Mrs. Huger and her two daughters 
 remained in the city, at the time the M'Donalds became 
 their guests. 
 
 In this noble family, as in all others of the South, the 
 ravages of war were plainly visible. They all wore that 
 black garb of mourning so common then— so common yet ; 
 and the family had become greatly impoverished. Yet 
 the almost royal hospitality of the South Carolinian shone 
 as brilliantly as ever. If steeped to the lips in the universal 
 poverty of all Southern patriots, they were wilUng to share 
 
 their last crust of bread. 
 
 "We have a wounded Confederate officer in our house," 
 remarked Mrs. Huger, the day after the arrival of the 
 
164 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 M'Donalds. '' He is able to be up, however, and you will 
 see bim tbis morning at breakfast. Our bouse bas been 
 quite a hospital for several weeks ; but we have only one 
 sufferer left, and he would not remain any longer, did we 
 not insist upon his regaining his strength." 
 
 Both Mrs. M'Donaldand her daughter had seen so many 
 wounded Confederates, and nursed so many in hospitals in 
 towns, and by the wayside, that neither felt much curiosity 
 upon the subject, and made no further inquiry. 
 
 They were seated at the breakfast-table, when they heard 
 hesitating steps, aided by a crutch, approaching the door 
 of the apartment. 
 
 " It is my patient," said Mrs. Iluger, rising to open the 
 door. 
 
 The officer entered, evidently weak and in pain, but as 
 soon as his eyes met those of the M'Donalds the latter ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Frank Bartow ! " 
 
 " What is left of him," replied the young officer with a 
 smile of sadness, as he extended a hand to the mother and 
 daughter. " I have had my old luck — been wounded 
 again." 
 
 But Myrtis M'Donald, regardless of those present, after 
 regarding his thin visage and emaciated form for a moment, 
 burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms. 
 
 " Oh, Frank ! dear Frank, when will tbis dreadful war 
 end ? Poor fellow ! this is the seventh time you have been 
 wounded." 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 1G5 
 
 " My luck, Myrtis," replied Frank, as he took his place 
 at the table. " Indeed, I was fortunate in Georgia after I 
 parted with you. I joined a company of Confederate offi- 
 cers and soldiers, all, or nearly all, convalescing from 
 wounds or sickness, and I flatter myself that we inflicted 
 some hard blows upon that host which devastated Georgia 
 on its way to the sea. We fought them wherever we could, 
 and many a band of ' bummers ' and horde of plunderers 
 — that is, the survivors — have good cause to remember the 
 command of Captain Brantley. I was fortunate in escaping 
 injury." 
 
 " But when were you wounded ? " asked Myrtis, regard- 
 ing her scarred lover with admiring eyes. 
 
 " I was shot below the knee, a few weeks ago, while 
 engaged in a reconnoissance — you must know that I had 
 succeeded in gaining a position upon the staff" of that noble 
 son of Georgia, General William J. Hardee." He hastened 
 to a window and looked out. " But there go a party of 
 officers, and one of them is our kinsman. General Wade 
 Hampton — see, he is looking this way — ^he is coming tow- 
 ard the house." 
 
 General Hampton, for it was that famous leader, halted 
 immediately beneath the window, and, on seeing the ladies, 
 he bared his head and bowed, saying: 
 
 *' Ah, you are there, my cousins ! I heard this morn- 
 ing that you had sought refuge in Columbia, and I heard, 
 too, that you. Captain Bartow, were badly wounded. Can 
 you sit in the saddle ? " 
 
166 THE m'donalds 
 
 " Only to fall out of it, general," replied Captain Bar- 
 tow, in a mournful tone. 
 
 " I will have a litter, or an ambulance here for you, 
 captain," remarked the general. " Our mihtary council 
 has decided to leave Columbia to her fate," he added, in a 
 bitter tone, for he had opposed the abandonment of the 
 capital. " What her fate will be I can well imagine. She 
 will be plundered and burned." 
 
 " General," replied Captain Bartow, after pausing a 
 moment, during which his eyes had met those of Myitis 
 M'Donald, " I do not wish to add to the incumbrance of a 
 flying army. I will remain." 
 
 "As you please, my dear follow, but persuade those 
 ladies to retreat from the city while there is time," said 
 General Hampton. " Columbia, as the capital of South 
 Carolina, will be destroyed." 
 
 Then, bidding them adieu, he bowed and rejoined the 
 party of general officers. 
 
 " And that small, dark-faced man is the gallant Beaure- 
 gard," said Myrtis, gazing after the party. 
 
 " Yes, that is Beauregard, the idol of Louisiana," re- 
 plied Captain Bartow, in tones of admiration. " The hero 
 of Shiloh, and the preserver of Charleston, until it became 
 useless to the Confederacy. But you have heard all that 
 General Hampton said. The city is being abandoned by 
 our troops — " 
 
 " And how foolish in Frank Bartow, a Confederate 
 
167 
 
 officer, to remain in it to be captured ! " interrupted Mrs. 
 M'Donald. 
 
 " And in my dear Mrs. M'Donald also," retorted the 
 officer. " No doubt her old acquaintance, Mr. Seth Cash- 
 more, is still with Shei-man's army, and desires to pay his 
 respects to the M'Donalds, eh ? " 
 
 " Dat's so," put in old Myra. " I tole missus dat dar 
 was no use in comin' to Columby to git away from dem 
 blue locusses — day bound to go eberywhere, an' de nex' 
 place sure to come to Columby, an' sartin to burn de town. 
 Bress de Lor ! " cried the old negress, clapping her hands, 
 " I done hid dat portrait of ole massa when we was in 
 'Gusty, Georgia. It's tored an' faced mightily, but 'tain't 
 spiled — " 
 
 " Hush, Myra ! Go eat your breakfast," said her mis- 
 tress, who was plunged into anxious thought. 
 
 " Got no appletite for breakfus when I knows dem blue 
 locusses comin' to Columby," muttered old Myra, shaking 
 her head. " Mr. Cashmore sure to be wid 'em, after spoons 
 and all sich. He jest sich truck as Butler de beast." 
 
 " The Federals will be here to-morrow," remarked Cap- 
 tain Bartow. " Decide, ladies. General Hampton was 
 right. The city will be destroyed." 
 
 Tears were streaming from the eyes of Mrs. M'Donald 
 as the officer spoke. Poor lady ! she was thinking of her 
 trials, her sufferings, losses, and wanderings. Much and 
 incessant calamity had begun to tell even upon her heroic 
 and enduring spirit. 
 
168 THE m'donalds; 
 
 " O my God ! " she mused, " will my wanderings, my 
 flights never cease until 1 lay my weary head in the grave ? 
 Am I ever to be a fugitive in the land of my fathers ? I 
 fled from the sea to Rome, from Rome to Canton, from 
 Canton to Marietta, from Marietta to Atlanta, from Atlanta 
 to Newton, from Newton to Augusta, from Augusta to 
 Charleston, from Charleston to Columbia — whither shall I 
 now flee?" 
 
 The fate which this unfortunate lady deplored had been 
 the fate of thousands of noble Southern matrons ; pursued 
 from refuge to refiige; the torch and the bayonet, the 
 sword and the shell, the threat and the deed of an ever- 
 advancing foe, keen and destiiictive upon their paths. 
 Should the eye of a Northern matron, secure in the pro- 
 tection and opulence of her powerful section, ever read 
 these pages, let her extend her sympathy to her impover- 
 ished, homeless, broken-hearted sisters of the South. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 CASHMORE ON THE TRACK. 
 
 But when Myrtis McDonald passed her loving arms 
 around her mother's neck, and pressed her soft lips to hers, 
 the unhappy widow dried her tears, and the old look of 
 defiant resolution returned to her eyes. 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 169 
 
 " I will retreat no farther, unless driven by the bayo- 
 net," she said. 
 
 "But Casbmore — " urged bcr daughter, who, since 
 that fearful night in Newton County, had ever shuddered 
 in recalling the image of that villain. 
 
 " It is hardly probable that he is still with Sherman's 
 army," replied Mrs. M'Donald. 
 
 " Even the possibility of ever again being in the power 
 of that wretch is horrible," said Myrtis. " Mother, I dare 
 not remain." 
 
 " "Nov shall you remain with my consent, my child," 
 replied her mother. 
 
 " And leave you, mother ? " 
 
 " My dear child," answered Mrs. M'Donald, " I am un- 
 able to undergo the fatigues of another retreat — and why 
 retreat? It is ever my fortune to be overtaken. But, 
 perhaps, if we separate, you may be more fortunate. I 
 know that Captain Bartow refused the kind offer of General 
 Hampton for some other purpose than merely to be cap- 
 tured by his hated enemies." 
 
 "True, madam," said Captain Bartow. " I would have 
 felt small in spirit while riding in the general's ambulance, 
 and reflecting that my betrothed and her mother were left 
 to the mercy of such villains as Cashmore and Flaskill." 
 
 " Ah, you have not yet heard how they treated poor 
 Mr. Alexander ! " exclaimed Myrtis. 
 
 " I will hear all in good time," replied Captain Bar- 
 
170 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 tow ; " but meanwhile I must limp out to seek for some 
 means by whicli I may rescue you from that vampire 
 Casbmore. I am very sure that the bloodhound is with 
 Sherman's army, and has learned where you arc — at least 
 that you are in Columbia." 
 
 He had barely strength to move about upon his wound- 
 ed limb, and its broken bones had not sufficiently knitted 
 together to allow him to use haste. Yet in his eagerness 
 to seek some means of retreat for his friends, he tripped at 
 the head of the stairs, fell hea^^ly, and not only broke his 
 shattered limb again, but fainted from the agony of his 
 hurt. 
 
 He lay so pale, so white, so still, so ghastly at the foot 
 of the stairs that old Myra, who was in the hall below when 
 he fell, cried out : 
 
 " He's killed ! Poor Massa Frank done clean dead ! 
 Dat cloud ob smoke dat swallowed him up in Atlanta 
 done prove tme." 
 
 The ladies, who had attempted in vain to arrest his fall, 
 hastened to his assistance. 
 
 " He is not dead, he has swooned ! " said Mrs. M'Don- 
 ald. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! remember his broken limb ! " cried 
 Myrtis, as she swept the dark curls from the pale brow. 
 
 Mrs. Huger called to her servants to aid her in placing 
 the unfortunate officer upon a sofa in the hall, while Myra 
 hurried to procure a surgeon. She was successful in meet- 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEKN HOMES. 171 
 
 ing one upon the street, one she recognized as an old 
 Atlanta acquaintance, and he hastened to aid the woUnded 
 man as soon as he learned that it was his friend, Captain 
 Frank Bartow. 
 
 The young officer was soon restored to consciousness, 
 and the broken Kmb reset under the practised hands of the 
 suro-eon. He opened his eyes rather wildly at first, but . 
 soon recognized his situation. 
 
 " Ah, Doctor Dannelly, I have had an unlacky fall, 
 especially at this time. I was about to go out to find 
 means to convey these ladies from the city — " 
 
 "You would have failed, my dear fellow," replied 
 Doctor Dannelly, " unless you carried your weight in gold 
 with you." 
 
 "And can nothing be done — " 
 
 "It is out of the question now, Frank," whispered 
 Myrtis. " You cannot be moved in your present condi- 
 tion, and I will never leave you unattended." 
 " But Mrs. Huger, and your mother — " 
 "No matter, Frank," was the resolute reply. "My 
 place is by your side, and unless you drive me away, I 
 will remain in Columbia. Suppose they were to fire Co- 
 lumbia ! who would be so watchful over your safety as I ?" 
 Captain Bartow smiled, despite his pain, at the earnest- 
 ness of the young lady, but urged both her and her mother 
 to depart immediately. Tlie ladies were fii-m in their pur- 
 pose, Myrtis saying : 
 
172 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 "It may be probable tbat Seth Cashmore is with the 
 Federal army, but it is still more probable that Major 
 L-ving is also there, and I know lie will protect us from 
 that wretch." 
 
 " His protection did not help us in Newton County," 
 replied Mrs. M'Donald, bitterly. "Eut I do not blame 
 gallant Major Ir\dng for that ; his purpose was noble, and 
 he did what he could." 
 
 " I must leave you, my friends," remarked Dr. Dan- 
 nelly, " as my duties demand my presence elsewhere ;" and 
 after giving some medical advice regarding the wounded 
 officer, he bowed and departed. 
 
 The sen-ants of Mrs. Huger, who remained faithful to 
 her, moved the sofa with the officer to a room near the 
 hall, where, but for the solicitous attention of the ladies, 
 he would probably have suffered much in reflecting upon 
 his fortunes. 
 
 " I advise you, Mrs. M'Donald, and you, Myrtis, not to 
 show yourselves at the doors or windows, or you may be 
 seen by Cashmore, or some of his friends. Old Myra, too, 
 must remain indoors," said Captain Bartow, during the 
 day ; and this advice was decided to be very prudent. 
 
 The day wore away, the city was abandoned by the 
 Confederate forces, and the events and scenes reminded 
 Mrs. M'Donald greatly of the evacuation, under similar cir- 
 cumstances, of Atlanta. At night she ascended to the top 
 of the house, upon which was a small observatory, from 
 
OR, 
 
 1Y3 
 
 wliich the whole city and much of the surrounding country- 
 could be seen. 
 
 There seemed to he, and douhtless was, a cloud of 
 universal gloom upon the fated capital. All knew that a 
 hostile and victorious army was massed upon the banks of 
 the Broad, the Saluda, and the Congaree rivers ; and the 
 history of the sufferings of Georgia, and that portion of 
 South Carolina lying between Charleston and Columbia, 
 was well known in the city. The ominous booming of the 
 enemy's cannon had been heard all day, and many shells 
 had been thrown into the city, especially in the vicinity of 
 the railroad depot, <' to scatter the people," says page 45 
 of General Sherman's official report, " loho were seen carry- 
 ing away sacks of corn and meal that loe needed ! " 
 
 It is to be supposed that " the people " here mentioned 
 were famishing women and children, as well as a few starv- 
 ing plunderers ; but the right or the might of war ever 
 ignores and tramples upon the rights and necessities of the 
 people, especially when the people are " rebels," and, there- 
 fore, by the edict of the merciless radicals, '' without any 
 right, save the right to live, and that only at the option of 
 the victors ! " 
 
 Mrs. M'Donald felt her widowed and saddened heart 
 grow still more sorrowful, as she listened to the various 
 subdued sounds of terror hovering over the city, and as 
 she noticed the reddened sky in the direction of the hos- 
 tile army. That lurid light, she well knew, spoke of the 
 
iTtl: THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 destruction of conquered Southera homes, and her ex- 
 perienced mind could easily depict the sharp miseries of 
 those unfortunate South Carohnians who were suffering the 
 same dread horrors which had heaped the soil of Georgia 
 with ashes, and driven thousands of her helpless citizens 
 homeless and penniless from " thoroughly stripped planta- 
 tions." 
 
 We will not pause to attempt to describe the feelings 
 of the unfortunate lady, whose high and pure devotion to 
 her helpless country caused her to feel as keenly the calam- 
 ities of the South as she did her own. 
 
 " May Heaven have mercy upon this city ! '' she mur- 
 mured, as she left the observatory . " She is delivered into 
 the hands of the spoiler, and he will be pitiless." 
 
 On the following morning the mayor of Columbia went 
 out to meet the Federal advance, and formally surrendered 
 the beautiful capital of South Carolina, and soon after the 
 hostile columns began to pour into the conquered city. It 
 was a clear and brilliant day, though a strong wind was 
 blowing with all the fury of a tempest. It is not our place 
 here to discuss by whose orders the capital was fired ; that 
 question is still fiercely disputed ; we know that it was de- 
 voted to the flames, whether by accident, or by the orders 
 of the conqueror. The burning of Columbia is but an ac- 
 companiment of our story, and we leave its origin to the 
 decision of those better infonned. We have it, however, 
 from the pen of the commander-in-chief of the invading 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 175 
 
 army, that after the fire had begun, " imprisoned Federal 
 officers, rescued by the aiiny, may have assisted in spread- 
 ing the flames, and may have indulged in unconcealed joy 
 to see the ruin of the capital of South Carolina ! " 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore, who was among the first to enter 
 the city, did not hesitate to gratify his plundering and de- 
 structive propensities. His former friend and accomplice 
 in villany, the valiant Captain Tom FlasMll, was no longer 
 with him ; for that great " bummer " had been called to 
 strict account by Major Trving's insulted lieutenant, Giles ; 
 and went suddenly to his final account with a bullet in his 
 brain, placed there by the hand of the lieutenant when 
 they met in Savannah. 
 
 Mr. Seth Cashmore was quite pleased to be rid of his 
 ferocious comrade, whose grasping hand and insatiate ava- 
 rice had plucked many a glittering rebel prize from the 
 cowardly speculator. But the latter, urged by an avenging 
 fate, instead of quietly withdrawing from the army, and 
 hastening to the North, to cheat his fellows by the laws of 
 trade, remained with the Federal host, and accompanied it 
 to Columbia. He had heard, as had many others, that the 
 rich citizens of Charleston, and of the State in general, had 
 sent all their gold and silver plate, jewels, and other valu- 
 ables of small bulk, to Columbia, as a place of perfect secu- 
 rity. He had heard that all this wealth was hidden and 
 buried in that city, and he saw himself digging it up, hunt- 
 ing it out, filling great trunks with rich gold and silver 
 
176 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 plate, and cramming his deep pockets with diamonds and 
 precious stones — the property of those lordly families whose 
 very names he hated. 
 
 Therefore, Mr. Seth Cashraore was among the first to 
 honor the prostrate State capital with his agreeable pres- 
 ence. Tliere were many fires during the day, in various 
 parts of the city, and Cashmore had pretty good luck in 
 adding to his accumulations, as he assisted in plundering a 
 few churches, and several private houses. But it was near- 
 ly night when the flames which " may have been aided " 
 by those " rescued oflBcers," began to spread in every direc- 
 tion, and then the speculator was quite at home. 
 
 He had a strong suspicion that the M'Donalds were in 
 the city, and he would have been hugely delighted to know 
 the exact spot where he might find them. He trusted to 
 his great luck, as he tei-med his career of successful villany, 
 to aid him in burninfi: them out before morninor. 
 
 The flames, aided by the strong wind, and by hundreds 
 of incendiary hands, had taken fatal hold upon the vitals 
 of the city long before midnight, and " became totally un- 
 manageable," says the oflBcial report. 
 
 In the mean time, old Myra, whose curiosity and ten*or 
 were too gi-eat to suffer her to remain within doors, had 
 ventured upon the street ; and being attracted by the glare 
 of burning houses, bewildered by terrified families, and for- 
 getful of every thing except the temble scenes around her, 
 had wandered far away from the residence of Mrs. Huger, 
 
1Y7 
 
 wliicli was, as yet, unmeiiacecl by the flames, until she sud- 
 denly encountered Major (now Colonel) Irving. 
 
 That high-minded officer was at the head of his regi- 
 ment, using all his power of intellect, energy, and position, 
 to subdue the fury of the conflagration, and to rescue help- 
 less women and children. Those who witnessed the hor- 
 rors of that dreadful night, when so many hundreds of 
 Southern homes became ashes at one fell swoop, relate 
 heart-sickening details of the cruelty and ferocity of many 
 of the invaders. They tell of terrified ladies, from whose 
 delicate hands were torn such articles of clothing or furni- 
 ture as they had saved from the flames, and that men in blue 
 cast into the fire, even the garments of children, and the 
 bedding of houseless families ; and universal report, from 
 thousands who witnessed and suffered that nio-ht, and the 
 two days following, declares that the Federal troops in many, 
 many instances, acted with a fury and malice almost de- 
 moniacal. 
 
 Colonel Irving was not one of these white savages, but 
 a true specimen of the noble-hearted American citizen, 
 when the soul has not become shrivelled and warped by 
 sectional hate and political malignity. He, and men like 
 him, made no war upon women and unoffending citizens. 
 He held a position of power, and he as well as others in the 
 Federal army used that power to protect the defenceless. 
 Had not spirits like his existed in that great and trium- 
 phant army, it is very probable, nav, it is a certainty, that 
 8* 
 
178 THE m'donalds; 
 
 not a bingle house in the capital of South Carohna would 
 have been spared. 
 
 Mounted upon a powerful horse, he rode from place to 
 place as his presence was demanded, and it was while paus- 
 ing for a moment to give hasty orders, that old Myra recog- 
 nized him, and shouted his name aloud. 
 
 He turned quickly, and a kind smile of recognition 
 lighted up his handsome face, as he was about to address 
 her, when his glance fell upon Seth Cashmore, peering 
 closely into old Myra's agitated visage. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE LAST OF CASHMORE. 
 
 The eager speculator, delighted to stumble upon the 
 old negress, grasped her fiercely by the throat, resolved to 
 choke speedy information from her. 
 
 " Ha ! old black devil ! " he cried. " Have I caught 
 you again ? Eh ! curse you, if you do not lead me — " 
 
 He had proceeded thus far when a sabre gleamed over 
 his head, and fell sharply against his cheek, shearing off an 
 ear close to his skull. He roared with rage and pain, 
 freed the negress, and looking up, recognized the indignant 
 face and burning eyes of Colonel IrN^ng. 
 
179 
 
 " Scoundrel ! " cried tlie colonel, again raising his sword, 
 " fellows like you are unfit to live." 
 
 Mr. Cashmore held firmly to the opposite opinion, and 
 proved it by darting into the crowd, in which he was soon 
 swallowed up ; yet, though both the negress and the Fed- 
 eral lost sight of him, he was exceedingly careful to keep 
 them in view. 
 
 Colonel Irving learned with keen regret that the M'Don- 
 alds were in Columbia, and ordered Myra to hasten to con- 
 duct him to them. This was now out of her power, for, 
 bewildered by the roar and glare around her, as well as 
 confused by the late attack of Cashmore, she could only 
 gape and whirl, unable to act as a guide. 
 
 "At whose house are the ladies?" demanded the 
 colonel. 
 
 " Missus Huger's, massa officer ! Missus William 
 Huger's — de Lor' hab marcy on all creation ! " screamed 
 Myra, as a great spark of fire fell upon her neck. , "All 
 dis done come of freein' de black fokes ! " 
 
 " Mrs. William Huger's ? I know where that is," re- 
 plied Colonel Irving, galloping away. But he slackened 
 his speed as he looked back and saw the negress running 
 after him. 
 
 " Push on, massa, push on ! " cried she. " Nebber 
 mind dis chile. Make haste, massa, for de whole city , 
 agwine to be burned down, and Massa Frank, he dar wid 
 all his legs and arms broke ! Push on — I knows de way 
 now, sah." 
 
180 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 Yielding to the importunity of Myra, tlic oflSccr spurred 
 on, and in a few minutes dismounted before the house of 
 Mrs. linger. The flames had not reached that quarter of 
 the city, nor was tliere any probability that they would, 
 unless incendiary hands should ply the torch. 
 
 " I fear the whole city will be laid in ashes," mused the 
 Federal, as he paused for a moment upon the front steps of 
 the house, and listened to the distant roar of shouting 
 thousands. "If Columbia be destroyed, eternal infamy 
 will rest upon our arms. An evacuated, surrendered, de- 
 fenceless city laid in ashes by xVmerican soldiers ! This 
 will indeed be a disgrace and a reproach." 
 
 Turning quickly, for it was no time for reflection, he 
 entered the house, and perceiving a light shining from an 
 open door, hastened toward it. 
 
 Frank Bartow, near whom were gathered aU the ladies 
 of the house, heard the firm and martial tread as it ap- 
 proached. The wounded Confederate's pale cheek grew a 
 shade paler ; not with fear, for he had too often faced death 
 to blanch at its commg, but with dread for the fate of those 
 helpless females, whose only protector was now a prostrate 
 and shattered man. His grasp grew fierce upon the butt 
 of his repeater, and raising himself on his elbow he fixed 
 his steady gaze upon the open door. He could die but 
 once, and he had resolved to sell his life dearly. His ex- 
 perience in that ensanguined war had taught him that 
 " wounded rebels " were sometimes bayoneted to death. 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 181 
 
 Colonel Irving entered speedily, and as he did so the 
 levelled repeater of the Confederate confronted him, cover- 
 ing with its steady, unerring aim the centre of his forehead. 
 
 "Halt!" cried Bartow, the instant he recognized the 
 Federal unifonn. " You have come far enough." 
 
 The young colonel halted, yet his eye and features re- 
 mained calm, while a haughty smile, partly of anger, partly 
 of defiance curled his lip. He had not time to speak when 
 Mrs. M'Donald rushed before the levelled pistol, exclaiming : 
 
 " Frank ! It is Major Irving, our defender ! " 
 
 Bartow instantly lowered his weapon, and a deep flush 
 of shame for a moment darkened his brow and cheek, but 
 in a moment he said, in a hearty tone : 
 
 ** Colonel Irving must be sure that I can intend no at- 
 tack upon one whose generosity has protected many unfor- 
 tunates of ray country. Colonel, Captain Frank Bartow is 
 happy to be your prisoner, since prisoner he must be." 
 
 The Federal colonel, whose heart was as noble as his 
 courage was high, detected a latent bitterness even in the 
 hearty tone used by the Confederate captain, and replied : 
 
 " I did not come here, captain, to make prisoners, but 
 to save life, and to protect private property. I have just 
 learned that my esteemed friends, these ladies, were here, 
 and I come to assure them of my protection and aid, so 
 far as either lies in my power." 
 
 "We expected no less of Colonel Irving," said Miss 
 M'Donald, warmly, as she gave her hand to the officer. 
 
182 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 An animated exchange of compliments and opinions 
 followed, and was quickly ended by a remark of the colonel, 
 who said : 
 
 " Keep your weapon, Captain Bartow — at least until 
 my return, as you may need it. A bitter enemy of yom*s 
 and of these ladies is in the city — " 
 
 "Ah ! the wretch Scth Cashraore ! " exclaimed Myrtis, 
 shuddering as she remembered the bnital vindictivcness of 
 the speculator. 
 
 " Yes, Miss M'Donald," continued Colonel Irving, " I 
 am sorry to say that Cashmore is in the city, and I need 
 not warn you that there are many spirits like his at his 
 command — " 
 
 " The fierce Flaskill ? " asked Myrtis. 
 
 " Oh, he is dead, but I fear there are many like him, 
 boon and sworn companions of this fellow Cashmore, so I 
 will huny to lead or send a detachment from my regiment 
 to keep guard around this block of buildings, and to see 
 that you are not molested. To-morrow we may be able 
 to do more." 
 
 The generous-hearted Northerner did not remain to 
 receive the shower of thanks which was his due, but hurried 
 away to the street and sprang into his saddle. 
 
 " I must make haste," he thought, as he observed the 
 increased glare and nearness of the flames. " Many new 
 fires have broken out since I left the street. Good Heaven ! 
 can this deed be by the command of General Sherman ! " 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 183 
 
 Witli this question stinging liis mind, Colonel Irving 
 spun-ed his horse toward that quarter of the city where 
 he expected to find his regiment. 
 
 That question has stung many minds since the deed 
 was done. Now that the war is over, the world is aghast 
 with horror and rebuke as it contemplates the havoc made 
 by Sherman's army as it swept through defenceless Georgia 
 and South Carolina; and the burning of Columbia seems 
 but in dramatic keeping with the terrible tragedy in which 
 he who was the "star" of the mfernal perfomance de- 
 clared— " I would blush for shame if I had ever insulted 
 
 or struck a fallen foe ! " 
 
 How far his fame may prove his veracity, posterity will 
 decide. The smoke still rises from the ashes of the South, 
 and the time has not come when all the world shall know 
 " who burned Columbia." 
 
 No sooner had the sounds of Colonel Irving's 
 rapid departure died away from the vicinity of Mrs. 
 Huger's mansion, than the ill-omened visage of Seth Cash- 
 more showed itself from the shadow on the opposite side 
 of the street. He had followed Myra as she hurried home- 
 ward, and, having dogged her to the house, fell back into 
 concealment as he recognized Colonel Irving's horse. 
 
 He waited patiently until he saw that officer depart. 
 He crossed-the street with rapid strides, his eyes sparkling 
 with anticipated revenge ,ind gratified malice, and his ugly 
 face distorted with rage, pain, and devilish triumph. His 
 
184 
 
 ear, or where the ear had been, smarted keenly, but not 
 more than his vindictive soul as he remembered the rejec- 
 tion and scorn of his suit. Chance, long hoped for, had 
 at length placed those detested M'Donalds within his 
 reach, and Seth Cashmore was not a man to feel the 
 slightest scruple in using his power even to the completion 
 of the basest purposes. 
 
 " They are in this house, no doubt," he thought, as he 
 paused at the door. " Irving has been here to promise 
 them his protection, and he will soon return with a guard. 
 But it will take all of half an hour to bring his men up, 
 and in that half an hour — well, Seth Cashmore can do a 
 great deal to humble the haughty Myrtis M'Donald in that 
 time. As for her mother — well, I think I could shoot that 
 insulting old woman as readily as look at her." 
 
 Seth Cashmore set his teeth hard, and his heart throb- 
 bed with savage exultation as he turned the knob and 
 strode in. 
 
 He had not taken three steps into the hall when Mrs. 
 M'Donald advanced toward him, bearing a candle. The 
 rays were reflected by his glittering buttons, and for an 
 instant she thouorht he was Colonel Irvino*. 
 
 " Back so soon. Colonel Irviiig — " she began, but 
 checking her speech as she recogiiized the brutish features 
 and protruding eyes of the half-drunken speculator. 
 
 " Your servant, madam," cried Cashmore, with a hoarse 
 laugh of derisioUj and drawing liis sword to terrify the un- 
 daunted lady. " You know me now ! " 
 
OK, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 185 
 
 "You are Seth Caslimore," replied the widow, in a 
 loud and clear tone, meant to warn Captain Bartow — 
 "you are Setli Caslimore, and you are treading upon 
 dangerous ground. I warn you in time. Go, tlie door is 
 behind you." 
 
 "Oh yes, old lady," roared Cashmore, feeding his 
 courage with a tremendous oath, the foulest, most blas- 
 phemous he could muster, " you ordered me out of your 
 house in Atlanta, and I went, but I'm lord and master 
 here. Where is your dainty daughter, eh ? She and I 
 must have a word together. Out of my way, or I'll cut 
 you down ! " 
 
 He raised and flourished his sword as he spoke, and 
 Mrs. M'Donald saw murder flashing in his fierce eyes. She 
 grew very pale, perhaps less with fear than for what she 
 knew would come, and said, still in that loud, clear tone : 
 
 " You insist upon seeing my daughter ? You will 
 have no mercy — no pity, Seth Cashmore?" 
 
 " Mercy ? Pity ? I will teach you what mercy I give. 
 Out of my way, old fool ! " 
 
 "Go on," she said, moving aside, and pointing tow- 
 ard the room occupied by Captain Bartow. " You will 
 find my daughter in that room." 
 
 He thought, simpleton, that his threats and ferocious 
 looks had appalled her, and, striding by, hurried to force 
 his hateful presence upon his intended victim. He had 
 reached the open door, had faced inward to enter, when the 
 
186 THE MCDONALDS ; 
 
 sLarp cract of Bartow's repeater, and a deep, painful slash 
 across his cheek told him there were still " rebel bullets" 
 ready to defend " rebel maidens." 
 
 The pistol cracked again, and Cashmore's right arm fell 
 shattered to his side. He stayed no longer to be a target 
 for such salutes, especially as he recognized the flaming 
 eyes of Frank Bartow gleaming through the smoke, but, 
 yelling with pain and terror, wheeled and rushed from the 
 house. 
 
 Safe in the street his desire for instant revenge returned, 
 A drunken soldier, perhaps one of " the rescued officers," 
 was staggering along, torch in hand and bellowing, " Rally 
 'round the flag, boys ! " as he swung tbe blazing pine above 
 his head. Seth Cashmore snatched the torch with his left 
 hand, for his right aim was broken, and shouting to other 
 stragglers whose flambeaux told of their deeds, began to 
 fire the square, rushing from house to house, and sparing 
 none. 
 
 In this be bad no lack of imitators, and the whole 
 square of buildings, with the exception of that of Mrs. 
 Huger, was soon in flames. That, too, would have been 
 fired, but for the sudden amval of five men of living's regi- 
 ment, who repulsed all who attempted to enter the house. 
 
 Cashmore, drunken with rage, pain, and brandy, did 
 not forget to plunder as he plied his torch, and finding it 
 very difficult to rob and snatch with a blazing brand in his 
 hand, soon cast it aside, leaving the burning to be done by 
 
OE, THE ASHES OF SOUTHEEN HOMES. 187 
 
 others. In pillaging a house already in flames, his greedy 
 nature led him to the highest story, where he consumed 
 some time in breaking open a trunk which he believed 
 contained gold, plate, or jewelry. 
 
 He was disappointed, and cursing the poverty or cun- 
 ning of " the rebels," turned to retrace his steps to the 
 street, as the room had already become filled with smoke. 
 When he reached the head of the stairs he found them 
 wrapped in angry flames — red, crackling, fiercely-moving 
 flames — which seemed to leap with triumph at his entrap- 
 ping. 
 
 To descend was impossible. He leaned over the hall 
 balustrade and gazed downward. Nothing met his strain- 
 ing sight except rushing, roaring, momiting fire, from whose 
 red tongues rolled upward a sufibcating smoke, hot and 
 stifling as the breath of devils. 
 
 He must go up. There was a small step-ladder, leading 
 to a trap-door which opened upon the roof, and he sprang 
 to that with the activity of wildest terror. He reached the 
 roof, and filled his parched lungs with deep draughts of the 
 night wind. He thought he was safe, with nothing before 
 him but the simple feat of clambering from that roof to the 
 next, the one on his left, for that on his right was already 
 in flames. 
 
 It was no easy matter to climb along that sharp roof- 
 top with a broken arm, and faint from loss of blood. But 
 he could do it, must do it, and reach the eaves of the 
 
188 THE m'donalds ; 
 
 adjoining house. There was no time for delay, for already 
 the flames from which he had fled, were darting angrily 
 through the sky-light, as if looking for him, hunting him 
 down, hungry to devour him. 
 
 He moved on, slowly and painfully, his shattered arm 
 swinging in torture at his side. He raved and cursed ; he 
 shouted for help; shouted an incoherent prayer; then 
 blasphemed ; hoped, despaired, died a thousand deaths in 
 straggling to save one miserable, pernicious life. But still 
 he moved on, the roof growing hot beneath his wide- 
 stretched limbs and unwieldy body, while pufis of smoke 
 began to shoot from among the warping shingles. He 
 writhed on, half choked by the dense masses of smoke now 
 and then borne down upon him by the wind. From his 
 lofty perch he had a rare view of the burning capital. As 
 far as his eye could reach, north, east, south, and west, on 
 every side, rose the red and glaring ministers of Federal 
 vengeance. He could hear the shouts of those who vainly 
 tried to check the advance of those fire-warriors of Sher- 
 manic conquest ; the cheers of those who fed the flames ; 
 the yells of a wild, half-mad, infuriated soldiery, waging 
 sharp war under the dread banner of " relentless de\ asta- 
 tion ! " He heard the shrill screams of terrified women, 
 the sharper shrieks of homeless children, none the less 
 shrill, sharp, and heart-rending because they rose from the 
 lips of " rebels ; " for God gave even " rebels " hearts to 
 bleed and souls to despair — a fact of which no note was 
 
OR, THE ASHES OP SOUTHERN HOMES. 189 
 
 taken in tliat order for " relentless devastation ! " — a fact 
 ignored by Stevens, Butler, and other gentle-hearted beings 
 whom courtesy calls human. 
 
 Seth Caslimore had a rare view of blazing Columbia, 
 and no doubt, under other circumstances he might have 
 rubbed his greasy palms, rolled his exultant eyes, and licked 
 his lips witli all the infernal gusto of a Lloyd Garrison, 
 revelling in a dream of universal negro insurrection and 
 abolition destruction. But as it was, he saw nothing to 
 admire, except the decreasing distance between himself and 
 the next roof. 
 
 He had almost reached it, had shouted with joy, as lie 
 extended his unwounded arm to clutch the eaves, when, as 
 if by magic, all that roof sank down — sank so suddenly, 
 that his hand remained outstretched, grasping at the 
 empty air — sank down with a great puff, almost a roar, 
 and then a volcano seemed to rush straight up from where 
 it had been. 
 
 " Better be dashed to pieces than be burned to death ! " 
 groaned the miserable wretch, as he recoiled from the 
 dreadful heat which swept upward like a sirocco from the 
 hottest pit of the infernal. 
 
 So sudden, so intense had been that breath of fire, that 
 his hair and beard were crisped to his blistered scalp and 
 skin, and unable to endure the horrible torture, he toppled 
 over si do wise, hoping to roll from the roof and be dashed 
 to instant death upon the pavement far below. 
 
190 THE MCDONALDS; 
 
 But fate, as if resolved to give the wretch a foretaste of 
 the doom he so richly merited, thrust a spike iu his gar- 
 ments as he rolled from the eaves, and thus suspended him 
 in mid-air. 
 
 He was seen by those below, writhing and twisting like 
 a worm on a hook. A mass of smoke shut him from view, 
 the walls of the blazing house fell suddenly inward, and 
 that was the last ever known of Mr. Seth Cashmore. 
 
 His bones and flesh went to swell that great heap of 
 the ashes of Southern homes which he had been a very 
 demon in aiding to make, and doubtless his soul fled to its 
 apjDointed place. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We hardly need state that the vigorous exertions of 
 Colonel Irving rescued all within the house of Mrs. Huger 
 from the flames. 
 
 The destruction of Columbia was soon followed by the 
 surrender of the veteran armies of Lee and Johnston. The 
 short-lived and meteoiic star of the Southern Cross sank as 
 suddenly as it had risen, and the so-called peace having 
 been declared, the M'Donalds returned to devastated, 
 smouldering; Georo-ia. 
 
OR, THE ASHES OF SOUTHERN HOMES. 191 
 
 The war Lad left them, here and there, in that unfortu- 
 nate State, a few acres of barren land, marked with heaps 
 of ashes of what had once been happy Southern homes. 
 The widow sold these sad acres, poor relics of her once 
 great wealth, as Captain Frank Bartow, now the husband 
 of the gentle Myrtis, sold his scanty fields ; and with their 
 joint means they have erected a new Southern home, which 
 we fervently pray may never be made ashes by the flames 
 of civil or foreign war. 
 
 Old Myra, faithful follower of her mistress, has an hum- 
 ble home of her own upon the land of Frank Bartow, and 
 though in the parlor of the statelier mansion of her young 
 mistress there hangs a splendid painting of Colonel Harde- 
 man M'Donald, you will find above the lowly mantel of 
 firm-hearted Myra that devotedly preserved portrait which 
 survived the hate and malice of brutal Flaskill and brutish 
 Cashmore. 
 
 Of this she will say, as she tosses aloft a smiling 
 " rebel babe " who rejoices in the name of Frank Bartow, 
 Jr.: 
 
 " Dat's my ole massa's pickter — de Lor' bress his soul ! 
 I sed as how^ ole Myra was agwine to presarbe de ole man's 
 image, an' I 'low she done did it. Ki ! dis chile hyar, 
 de horned image of his grandfadder, and Myra's his niggar 
 till she done died. What I keer for Mistur Linkum's proc- 
 lamation. I'se a niggar ! " 
 
 One word to dismiss the lofty-minded and generous- 
 
192 THE MCDONALDS. 
 
 hearted Northerner, Colonel Irving. Soon after the cessa- 
 tion of hostilities in the field — for those in the forum un- 
 happily continue — he was united to that fair-haired, blue- 
 eyed lady of the North, of whom we have hinted; he 
 resigned his commission, and, true to his patriotic love for 
 the -whole Union as it was intended by Washington, Han- 
 cock, and Jeflferson, is laboring to restore real peace and 
 permanent prosperity to the once firmly established United 
 States. 
 
 Yet years of prosperity and peace must again have 
 blessed the now mutilated bosom of the South, ere fi'om 
 those sad relics, the ashes of Southern homes, greatness 
 and happiness can spring to efface the remembrance of 
 " Sherman's m-and march." 
 
 THE END. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 869