mmmtUEBsmmaamsBmami' 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
»&mH 
 
 COLLECT 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 Life and Letters of James O. Andrew. 12mo $1 00 
 
 Life and Times of Geo. F. Pierce. 8vo 2 00 
 
 Life of Jno. W. Knight. 32mo 25 
 
 Harry Thornton. 50 
 
 Berry's Triumph 50 
 
 Mr. Hall and His Family 50 
 
 Childhood and Conversion 40 
 
 ORDER OF 
 
 Barbee & Smith, Agents, Nashville, Tenn. ; 
 Macon PuBiLishing Company, Macon, Ga. ; or 
 The Author, Macon, Ga. 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive 
 
 in 2010 witli funding from 
 
 University of Nortli Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/boyingraystoryofOOsmit 
 
THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 A STORY OF THE WAR 
 
 GEO. G. SMITH, 
 
 Chaplain of Phillips's Legion, Georgia Volunteers, 
 
 Author of " Hairy Thorn toll," " Berry's Triumph," " Mr. Hall 
 and His Family," etc. 
 
 MACON, GA.: 
 MACON PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
 
 1894. 
 
Kiuered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1894, 
 
 By Geo. G. Smith, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 XLo tbe Sons ot tbe Detcrans, 
 
 whether they wore the gray or wore the blue, 
 
 this book 
 
 is affectionately dedicated by 
 
 The Author. 
 (5) 
 
 603248 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This book has been written for the young people who are 
 interested in the story of the stirring scenes through which 
 their fathers passed. 
 
 It is needless to say that it is not a true record of personal 
 life ; it is no more history than is " Robinson Crusoe " or the 
 " Pilgrim's Progress." The facts stated as historic are to be 
 relied upon. Many of these came under my own eye, when I 
 went over the ground which Roger speaks of in his campaign. 
 The pictures of " Georgia life" are, I think, correctly drawn, 
 and ought not to fade out entirely. 
 
 This little book has been written in the interest of peace, 
 and I have been anxious that the Southern boys and girls who 
 will be largely and almost exclusively my readers should see 
 not only how nobly their fathers bore themselves in the war, 
 and how grandly their mothers and sisters toiled at home, but 
 that they should see how really noble and generous were many 
 of those who were on the other side. If any one should object 
 that these characters had no counterparts in real life, I can 
 only say that they have not heard the whole story and that, 
 while such cases were too rare, there were such. The absence 
 of malice between the soldiers was a remarkable feature of the 
 contest; and if there has been feelings of bitterness between 
 the North and the South, it is high time for them to have an 
 end. The children of the old English people who settled 
 America, whether they landed at Jamestown or Plymouth 
 Rock, have too much in common to be at enmity now. Com- 
 mon dangers are too near them for them to vex each other. 
 
 (7) 
 
8 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 One terrific war is enough. Let us have peace and brother- 
 hood for evermore; but a peace purchased by falsehood or by 
 suppression of the truth is no peace, and a true story is tlie 
 only one that should be told. I have tried to tell it, and I 
 should feel sad if I thought I had said anything to divide the 
 young people, North and South, whom I would so gladly see 
 united. Geo. G. Smith. 
 
 Macon (VineviUe), Ga. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter I. Page 
 
 The Lavvsons 1 1 
 
 Chapter II. 
 A Gathering of the Clouds 19 
 
 Chapter III. 
 " Ivy Bush " 35 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 A Chapter Which I Wish Could Be Left Out 50 
 
 Chapter V. 
 Some Pleasing Events 63 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 A Rather Dull but an Important Chapter 67 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 The War Drum 74 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 Helen 86 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 Gaining Experience 93 
 
 Chapter X. 
 A Week at Home 104 
 
 Chapter XI. 
 Campaigning on the Coast no 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 Infantry Service in Northern Virginia 117 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 Things in Liberty 131 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 Maryland! My Maryland 134 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 " Yank" and "Johnnv " in the Same Hospital ,...'... 139 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 The Army Again — Winter Quarters 146 
 
 (9) 
 
lO THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Chapter XVII. Page 
 
 The American Waterloo 151 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 Hospital Life 154 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 " Pine Lodge " Again 161 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 Prison Life 164 
 
 Chapter XXI. 
 Wave upon Wave 1 70 
 
 Chapter XXII. 
 Free at Last i So 
 
 Chapter XXIII. 
 Midnight 1S5 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 Beginning Anew iSS 
 
 Chapter XXV. 
 Some Unlooked-for Events 200 
 
 Chapter XXVI. 
 How Bob Durham Lost I lis Case 204 
 
 Chapter XXVII. 
 At the Bottom of the Ladder 210 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. 
 Roger Lawson, Attorney at Law 216 
 
 Chapter XXIX. 
 A Dark Chapter in American History 231 
 
 Chapter XXX. 
 Get Thee Behind Me, Satan 23S 
 
 Chapter XXXI. 
 Some Surprises 243 
 
 Chapter XXXII. 
 May Flowers , 250 
 
 Chapter XXXIII. 
 Orange Flowers 263 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LAWSONS. 
 
 mOGER LAWSON, the first of the name who 
 ^\ settled in Georgia, came with the Puritan 
 colony from Dorchester, in South CaroHna, about 
 1755 ' ^^^ settled an estate of one thousand acres 
 on Midway River in what was then St. John's 
 Parish. He brought with him thirty black slaves, 
 who began at once to clear the land ; and as the 
 range was good, the large stock of cattle he drove 
 into it fared well from the first, and they rapidly 
 increased, and his rice fields were soon put in 
 good condition ; and when he died the second Roger 
 found a large rice plantation, well equipped, and a 
 hundred slaves as his heritage, and now, after over 
 a hundred years, the third Roger was at the old 
 home. Long ago the first home, a log cabin, had 
 been torn away ; and now a comfortable and comely 
 mansion, built by the second Roger, father of the 
 present owner, stood among the live oaks on the 
 bluff. It was an old colonial mansion, with broad 
 verandas and roomy halls and immense wide- 
 mouthed chimneys. The mantels, which were 
 
 (11) 
 
12 ' THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 brought from England, were carved with the 
 quaint carving of a century ago, and the mansion 
 doors were of Enghsh oak. The brick in the 
 chimneys, the glass in the windows, the doors and 
 mantels, came from beyond the sea, but all else 
 had come from the plantation ; and though the 
 house had stood for a hundred years, yet, save a 
 repainting and overhauling now and then, and 
 a recovering every thirty years, it was as the 
 second builder left it. 
 
 A group of neat buildings, high from the ground 
 and comfortably furnished, were the abiding places 
 of the household sei"vants, of whom there seems 
 to us of this day a rather excessive number; for 
 there was Robert, the master's butler; and Mary, 
 the maid of the mistress; and Nancy, the house 
 girl; and Jack, dining room boy; and the chief 
 cook, Judy; and her assistant, Chloe; and Dick, 
 the stable boy; and old Mammy and the two seam- 
 tresses; and over all was Uncle Jack, who was 
 Mammy's husband, and had been, he said, "old 
 Massa's man servant in de late war," when he was 
 in " de camp wid him." The late war was 1812, 
 and it was now i860, but it was the late war yet to 
 Uncle Jack. 
 
 Roger Lawson the third, better known as Capt. 
 Lawson, was a wealthy rice planter, as his father 
 
 m 
 
THE LAWSONS. 1 3 
 
 had been before him. He was now near fifty 
 years old, and had graduated from the State Uni- 
 versity thirty years before, where Alex H. Ste- 
 phens was his classmate. Born in affluence and 
 with all the advantages which social position could 
 give him, he was yet brought up to habits of in- 
 dustry and early taught self-reliance. 
 
 Old Roger was a somewhat stern man of the 
 old Puritan type, and he and his wife were devout 
 members of Dr. McWhir's church at Midway, and 
 they had trained the boy most carefully. There 
 were no Sunday schools then ; but Sunday was re- 
 garded as a holy day at " Lawson Place," and kept 
 with Puritan exactness. The Shorter Catechism 
 had been carefully studied b}^ the children and 
 faithfully committed to memory, and Roger and 
 his sisters were thoroughly acquainted with the 
 somewhat, to them, inscrutable teachings of the 
 Westminster Assembly. 
 
 Roger was a fine young fellow when he left the 
 high school for Athens, and here he fell in with a 
 good set. Charles Jones, his neighbor, and Tom 
 Ginlat, from the adjoining county , and Alex 
 Stephens, the wonder of the college, influenced 
 him for good, and when the great revival came on 
 in Athens he was converted, and Dr. Hoyt received 
 him into the Presbyterian Church. 
 
14 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Mary Maxwell, who lived on the adjoining es- 
 tate, was an only daughter and inherited the broad 
 acres of her father, Col. Maxwell, and was not 
 only an heiress, but a lovely Christian girl, who 
 had come from Dr. Marks' s school at Barham- 
 ville, S. C, finely accomplished the summer be- 
 fore Roger graduated. It was inevitable that 
 Roger Lawson and Mary Maxwell should wed, 
 and wed they did, much to the joy of the parents 
 of Roger and of the widowed mother of Mary. 
 That was in 1838, just after Roger left college. 
 The good people of " Lawson Place " did not live 
 long after the happy event, and for this score of 
 years Capt. Roger had been in charge of the 
 two plantations. There were two large quar- 
 ters in charge of a manager. In each there were 
 about twenty neat little whitewashed cottages with 
 a garden of an acre or more attached. In these 
 cabins, as they were called, the negroes lived, and 
 at the head of the avenue was the comfortable six- 
 room house of the manager. The rice- fields 
 stretched along the river for a mile, and the large 
 canals and small ditches divided them into beauti- 
 ful plats which were planted in rice. There were 
 one hundred negroes on each place, but of these 
 there were a number of children and old people 
 who did but little work. 
 
THE LAWSONS. 1 5 
 
 Capt. Lawson was a very kind master. He saw 
 to it that his slaves were well fed and well clad, 
 and their religion and their morals were carefully- 
 looked after. He had a neat chapel on his land 
 built entirely by himself. The Baptist preacher 
 and the Methodist missionary each had an ap- 
 pointment there, and were paid by him, and his 
 wife and himself and his daughter taught the little 
 ones in Sunday school. 
 
 I should fail to do my duty as a fair chronicler 
 if I did not tell as true what the world has per- 
 sisted in believing for a long time could not but be 
 false: that these slaves of Capt. Lawson, and of 
 such as he, were better fed, better clad, better 
 trained, and were more moral and more religious 
 and more cultured, than the same number of farm 
 laborers in any other part of the world, but so it 
 was. They were not permitted to do as they 
 wished, and alas ! I have found that when people, 
 young or old, black or white, are permitted to do 
 as they wish, many of them wish to go wrong. 
 They were made to work, and alas ! it is a sad fact 
 that many people will not work unless they are 
 made to do so. The Captain's people said they 
 loved him, and he said that he loved them, and I 
 am sure that he did. 
 
 However much he might lose in his planting 
 
l6 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ventures or however much he might be embar- 
 rassed, his people had never known any difference 
 in his treatment of them. Their rations and their 
 clothing and their medical attendance were always 
 sure. The Captain was not a money-making man. 
 He lived in comfort, and gave generously, and 
 sometimes disasters unlooked for came and 
 pressed him sorely, and this was one of those 
 times. For two successive years the floods from 
 the river had covered his rice, and the whole crop 
 had been lost. He had made large outlay for a 
 rice mill and a steam engine, and the crops failing, 
 he had been compelled to go largely in debt. This 
 he had no difficulty in doing, but a $20,000 debt 
 is not a pleasant thing to carry, and he felt its bur- 
 den. 
 
 The two older children of Capt. Lawson died 
 in infancy, and Helen, the daughter, and young 
 Roger, the son, were the only children now in the 
 family. Helen was a lovely, brown-eyed girl of 
 eighteen, and Roger a bright, handsome, merry 
 boy of sixteen. Helen had just returned from the 
 school of Dr. Marks at Barhamville, w^here her 
 mother, twenty years before her birth, had been 
 educated. Roger had attended the old Med way 
 academy, and was now ready for the university. 
 In the summer time Capt. Lawson went with his 
 
THE LAWSONS. . I'J 
 
 family to the mountains of Georgia, and settled 
 them for four months on the banks of the Sequee, 
 in Habersham County. Here, three miles from 
 Clarksville, he had a cosy home, on which he kept 
 a few negroes and a few horses and some cattle. 
 It was a retreat from the miasma of the swamp, 
 and a pleasant change from lowland to upland. 
 
 Capt. Lawson had his title from being captain 
 of the Liberty Troop. This was a small company 
 of volunteer cavalry, which was composed of the 
 gentlemen of the county. It had been in continu- 
 ous existence since the first American Revolution, 
 and was the pride of the Liberty people. 
 
 The Captain was an old time gentleman. He 
 had mingled only with that class in his youth : and 
 from his fatlier, who was his constant companion, 
 he had imbibed the views and habits of an old 
 time English country gentleman. Save that he 
 was a Presbyterian of the nineteenth century, he 
 was really a reproduction of Sir Roger de Cov- 
 erly. He was a Whig in politics, and thoroughly 
 conservative. He kept up too the manners of the 
 century before. The old sideboard of his father 
 was still in its place, and the cut glass decanter of 
 cognac brandy sat upon it now in i860 as it had 
 been in 1790. The visitor had opened for him a 
 bottle of old wine and had prepared for him a 
 
l8 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 brandy toddy, as it had been done for his father's 
 guest. 
 
 In his family life he took with no new wa3'S. 
 The card table was wheeled out in the evening, 
 and father and mother and son and daughter joined 
 in a game of old-fashioned whist. They went to 
 church every Sunday, and were careful in their 
 Sabbath observance. He was thoroughly an up- 
 right man, and she was thoroughly a good woman. 
 He had great respect for old traditions, and little 
 use for new things. He never drank to excess, 
 and his good wife had seen him take his thimble- 
 ful of brandy and his glass of wine for all these 
 years. I do not mention these facts to commend 
 them, on the contrary I disapprove of them, but I 
 mention them that I may show how good people 
 lived over forty years ago. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 
 
 j|T was now June. The time for the family to 
 ■*■ leave Liberty for Habersham was generally the 
 the 15th, and Capt. Lawson was making his ar- 
 rangements to go. To provide for over two hun- 
 dred people for several months required manage- 
 ment and money. The failure of his rice crop for 
 two years successively had rendered it necessary 
 for Capt. Lawson to buy largely of Western 
 corn and bacon, and the large outlay for these 
 things was giving him very considerable anxiety. 
 The firm of Robert Harris & Co., of Savannah, 
 had been the factors of his father and of his grand- 
 father, and he had with them unbounded credit, 
 but it had become evident that he must negotiate 
 a considerable loan or be seriously straitened, and 
 they had been employed to do it for him, and this 
 day in June he had received their reply. He 
 handed it to his wife. 
 
 Savannah, Ga., May 31, 1S60. 
 Capt. Roger Lawson. 
 
 Dear Cciftain: We herewith send you account of sales of 
 ten bales of Sea Island cotton and of the lot of rice sent 
 by sloop " Margaret." We have communicated with our New 
 
 (19) 
 
20 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 York correspondents, Messrs. Fall, Daniel & Co., and thej 
 say that they have arranged for the $20,000 you desire to bor- 
 row, but say that the mortgage of the plantation and negroes 
 will not be satisfactory. The old Quaker who proposes to let 
 you have the money for five years at six per cent, is not willing 
 to take security of this kind; but if you will give him a mort- 
 gage on the two plantations, and not include the negroes, this 
 will be satisfactory'. We are sure that unless there should be a 
 a strange succession of bad years you will be able to pay the 
 amount easily in the five years, and as we know how reluctant 
 you are to mortgage your family slaves, we have written to our 
 New York friends that they could assure their correspondent 
 that you would accept his terms. 
 
 Very truly yours, Robert Harris & Co. 
 
 Mrs. Lawson read the letter. The shade of anx- 
 iety and of concern which crossed her face soon 
 passed away, and she calmly said: "Well, dear, 
 you can do no better than this ; it is one of those 
 things which must be done." 
 
 " Yes, my love, it must be done; but I do not 
 like to do it. The certainty of paying the note is 
 as good as it can be, for I can sell a part of the 
 lower place, with the hands on it, to Sam Varnadoe 
 for $20,000 to-morrow, and not have to borrow 
 any money, but I cannot part with my old slaves. 
 I am afraid that they would not be content; for 
 while Sam is as good a master as I am, he was not 
 brought up with the negroes, as I was, and I can- 
 not bear the thought of selling them to anybody. 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 21 
 
 But have you thought of one thing? that lower 
 place does not belong to me." 
 
 " It doesn't? Well, to whom does it belong?" 
 
 *' I made a marriage settlement, and secured it 
 to you." 
 
 " Well, can't I mortgage it then? " 
 
 " No, for it doesn't belong to you." 
 
 " Well, who does own it? " 
 
 "Both of us." 
 
 "Well then, we both will mortgage it. I am 
 not going to have you so bothered any longer. 
 Every time you have had a letter from Mr. Harris 
 you've seemed to be as blue as indigo." 
 
 " Well, I could not help it. These various little 
 debts which I could not pay, and the $10,000 I 
 had borrowed from the bank through the Harrises, 
 have harassed me more than I can tell; but this 
 loan will relieve me, and by careful living we can 
 doubtless pay it all before the day it is due. We 
 will, however, have to go to Hinesville to make the 
 papers." 
 
 When the trip was made they called at the office 
 of Judge Law, who drew the mortgage. After 
 it was signed Captain Lawson said: "Judge, I 
 want you now to make a deed of gift for me. I do 
 not know what may happen, and I do not know 
 that she will ever need it, but I want to make a 
 
22 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 settlement on my wife. The plantation just mort- 
 gaged was hers ; and if I were to die, and that mort- 
 gage were not paid, she might be homeless. I want 
 you to make a deed of gift of my place in Haber- 
 sham, five hundred acres of land, with all my family 
 plate, furniture, books, stock, cattle, horses, and 
 hogs, to Mary Maxwell Lawson." 
 
 "No, Judge, don't do it," said his wife. "I 
 have nothing separate from Roger. I do not want 
 that summer home." 
 
 " Don't listen to her, Judge. Make that deed, 
 I say, and make it now, and I will put it on record 
 when I go to Clarksville. I will not feel easy till 
 it is done." 
 
 " Well, Captain, it is rather a strange freak that 
 a man worth two hundred thousand dollars should 
 be so anxious about settling a home not worth 
 three thousand dollars on his wife, but I will do as 
 you wish." 
 
 And so the deed was drawn. The mortgage 
 was sent on, the money received and placed with 
 the Harrises, and the debts paid; and with lighter 
 hearts the family began to make preparation for 
 the journey to Habersham. 
 
 With the mail which brought the letters from 
 Messrs. Harris & Co. came the Savannah Repub- 
 lican, and it gave a vivid account of the Charleston 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 23 
 
 Convention of the Democratic party, and of the 
 split in that great organization. " This," said the 
 Captain sadly, as he laid down the paper, "is the 
 beginning of the end. The Democratic party is 
 hopelessly divided. The Republican will be vic- 
 torious and abolitionism will be on top and the 
 Union will fall." 
 
 "Why, my dear," said his wife, "what is the 
 reason you talk so? You were never a Democrat, 
 and the mere choice of a Republican, bad as that 
 would be, would surely not result as you think." 
 
 "Well, maybe not; we shall see what we see. 
 Well, let us leave politics alone and get ready for 
 our trip. What do you say to our going through 
 the country in our carriage?" 
 
 " Nothing would please me better. How long 
 will it take us?" 
 
 " We can make the journey easily in a week or 
 ten days. And it will give our children a better 
 idea of Georgia. We may have some rather 
 rough fare a part of the way, but the pleasure of 
 going through the country will more than compen- 
 sate for that." 
 
 The children v/ere delighted at the prospect, and 
 the arranofements were made for the start. The 
 plain, strong, comfortable carriage used to convey 
 the fam.ily to church, which was drawn by a pair 
 
24 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 of Kentucky horses, was brought into use for 
 Mrs. Lawson, Helen, and Mammy. The wagon 
 with its two mules carried the baggage and the 
 other servants, and Capt. Lawson and Roger had 
 each his saddle horse. The travelers had a jour- 
 ney of two hundred miles before them, but they 
 were well equipped for pleasant traveling, and could 
 take their own time. They left "Lawson Place" 
 in the early morning, and were soon in the pine 
 woods moving slowly on their way. 
 
 There are few parts of Georgia where there is 
 less variety in scenery than in the pine woods of 
 the lower part of the State. There is a gently un- 
 dulating plain covered with forests of pines and 
 with a carpet of grass now and then crossed by 
 creeks, along whose borders grow the oaks, moss 
 clad, and whose translucent waters have a strange 
 inky tint, and small brooks which gently move 
 over the white sand, and along whose banks are 
 magnolias and bays. The sward of the forest is 
 bedecked with flowers of great beauty. There 
 were few evidences of animal life, save the birds 
 and a few small cattle which were grazing in the 
 ranges. There were but few homes, and they 
 were very small and plain. Rapid traveling was 
 impossible on account of the heavy sand, and 
 night time found them still in Libert}^; but they 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 2^ 
 
 found good quarters in the home of a friend of 
 the Captain, who was a member of the same troop. 
 He was a plain pine woods farmer, but he and his 
 good wife soon made the travelers at home. The 
 supper was generous and well served, and the 
 men lit their pipes and sat on the front piazza and 
 talked of politics and of county matters; and the 
 farmer's wife and the planter's wife chatted of 
 those things which interest women. Few homes 
 were more comfortable than those of independent 
 farmers like John Jones, and few people were 
 more content or more useful than such people. 
 These families had few comforts which the farm 
 did not furnish, but they did not miss them. They 
 cured their own bacon, made their own sugar and 
 sirup, had their own cows, and made their own 
 butter. They had fowls in large numbers, and 
 caught fish at will from the neighboring ponds, 
 and the fields and woods furnished them with 
 small game. The wife had never been far from 
 home, nor did she care to go. She knew how to 
 weave, to spin, to raise fowls, to direct the cook 
 in preparing a savory meal, or if need be to pre- 
 pare one herself. She made her husband's cloth- 
 ing and that of her children. And while five thou- 
 sand dollars might have bought all John Jones had, 
 he had enough to make him thoroughl}'^ independ- 
 
26 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ent; and while he knew that the Captain he en- 
 tertained could have bought all he owned with 
 half a year's income, that he was college bred 
 while he could barely read, yet he felt no em- 
 barrassment and had no sense of inferiority to 
 his guest in entertaining him, and he would have 
 felt as little being entertained by him; and so 
 it was with Nancy Jones, his wife. She had met 
 Mrs. Lawson at Taylor's Creek cam.p meeting, 
 and entertained her there, and now she gladly 
 welcomed her into her roomy and comfortable log 
 house and entertained with as much simple heart- 
 iness as if she did not know any difference in 
 social conditions; and her strong-armed boj^s just 
 from the field and her rosy-cheeked girls greeted 
 Helen and Roger with hearty cheer, and while the 
 Captain and the Sergeant were on the porch and 
 the matrons were in the family room the young 
 folks were having as merry a game of thimble and 
 blind man's buff as if they had known each other 
 all the years gone by. 
 
 "Well, Captain," said Serg. Jones, emptying 
 his pipe, " it's about bedtime, and if you will come 
 into wife's room we'll have a word of prayer." 
 
 They came in, and the Bible was taken down 
 from the shelf. " Captain," he said politely, 
 •' will you take the book? " 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 27 
 
 "No; excuse me, Sergeant. I am a pretty 
 good Presbyterian, but I am afraid I am rather a 
 poor Christian, and can't pray in public; but we 
 will be glad to join with you in worship." 
 
 The Sergeant took the book. He read his chap- 
 ter, not alwa3^s pronouncing the words correctly, 
 but he did his best, and then gave out the hymn, 
 "A Charge to Keep I Have," and the family sung 
 with a hearty devotion, if not with classic elegance, 
 and retired to rest. 
 
 I have tried to give this account of the in- 
 tercourse of the wealthy and cultivated of the 
 Georgia people with their plainer neighbors, that 
 I may show how hearty was the sympathy between 
 them in these olden times. John Jones's brother 
 William had been an overseer for the Captain 
 for years, and while Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Lawson 
 met as equals and there was no envy between 
 them, yet they were not silly enough not to see 
 that their social position was very different, and 
 the paths of the two rarely crossed. The next 
 day early the travelers were on their way through 
 Tattnall, to find ver}^ different quarters for the next 
 night's resting. 
 
 It was a weary day. Through beds of sand and 
 long slushes they moved, and at nightfall found 
 themselves in the sand hills of Tattnall. Squire 
 
28 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 McGinnis had the only. house where a traveler 
 could find shelter in that section, and when they 
 reached the Squire's they found a log house with 
 one room for the dwelling, and a kitchen of the 
 same size near by. This was the only chance for 
 entertainment. The Squire was kind enough, and 
 said that they might stay, and his five grown daugh- 
 ters and his good wife were as kind as they knevv' 
 how to be; but to the mother and Flelen the 
 landscape bore a somewhat gloomy outlook. Sup- 
 per was coming on, and the keen eye of Mrs. 
 Lawson saw that the prospect for a scant meal was 
 very promising, and with a woman's tact she said 
 to the mistress of the cabin: "Let my servant 
 help you to get supper; and if you have some fresh 
 eggs, we have some light bread and coffee and 
 cold ham, and we can make out nicely." 
 
 The supper provided by the Squire's wife was 
 fat bacon, collard greens, and corn bread and corn 
 coffee; and the added store from the large lunch 
 basket excited some gratitude, as well as wonder. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I am obleeged to ye. We poor 
 folks can't do as well as we'd like to, and then I 
 don't know as whether we allers does as well as 
 we mout ; but sich as we have you is mighty wel- 
 come to." 
 
 "Thank 3'ou, ma'am," said the guest. "We 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 29 
 
 have done very well; but as I am quite tired, I 
 would like to go to bed as soon as convenient." 
 
 " Yes, sartainly. Youns go in thar, and my ole 
 man and me and the gals will come in here. The 
 boys (you hain't seen 'em yit) they is been out 
 arter a bunch of cattle, and when they come in 
 they will sleep outen the shed." 
 
 "Well, Captain," said the Squire, "while the 
 wom.en is gittin' ready to go to bed, we'll sit out 
 here, and while you smoke I'll chaw. Whar is 
 you from? " 
 
 " From Liberty." 
 
 " O yes, I have been down in Libuty. I was a 
 delegit to the Beard's Creek Association last jxar. 
 You warn't thar, Avas ye? " 
 
 " No, Squire; I did not go." 
 
 " Well, I did not think ye was. An old side 
 Baptist I is, and my daddy was afore me. What 
 IS you.f^ 
 
 "A Presbyterian." 
 
 "A Prisbyteran? Well, I have hearn of them; 
 but I hain't never seen none before, and I 'spose 
 you is a Whig ? ' ' 
 
 " Well, yes." 
 
 " Well, I'm a Dimocrat, a regular Andrew Jack- 
 son Dimocrat. I tell you, Captain, when a man 
 is a jestice of the peace, a Baptist deacon, and a 
 
30 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 rale old ironside Dimocrat, I think that will do. 
 But I 'spect you is purty tired, and so I'll go in 
 the kitchen, and let j-ou and Bud thar go in to 
 bed." And the Squire left his guest. 
 
 The Squire settled his home when the pine for- 
 ests on the sand hills of lower Georgia were counted 
 as valueless except for their pasturage ; but he had 
 a hundred head of cattle now, and enriched a fev/ 
 acres of land every year, on which he raised some 
 corn and sugar cane and potatoes. He knew 
 nothing of comfort, and cared nothing for it. 
 Twenty dollars a year paid all his store bills; and 
 all else they needed was made at home. The 
 homespun frocks of the girls, they wove them- 
 selves, and the one suit of jeans which the boys 
 wore in winter, and the heavy cotton they wore in 
 summer, were made at home by the old lady. 
 They drove some cattle to the Savannah market 
 every year, and carried some wool ; and brought 
 back a few bundles of "spun truck" (as they 
 called yarn), some indigo and madder to dye with, 
 • a few tools, some powder and shot, a calico dress 
 for the old woman and each of the girls, a little 
 coffee, and alas ! a keg of whisky; and the remain- 
 der of the proceeds from his produce he turned 
 into gold, which he carried back to Tattnall and 
 loaned out. He had no expense for newspapers 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 3 1 
 
 or magazines or schools or churches, and so Squire 
 McGinnis was, despite his poor land, a substantial 
 man, who had money at interest, and whose word 
 in matters of business was as good as his bond. 
 
 The fare he furnished the travelers was not the 
 best ; but the price of the entertainment was in pro- 
 portion to its excellence, for when the Captain 
 called for his bill in the inorning the whole sum 
 asked was one dollar for everything. 
 
 " Say, Captain," said the Squire in a low voice, 
 " won't you come out here a minute? " When he 
 did he said: " I've got a jug of good corn juice, 
 and I thought maybe you'd like a dram. I have 
 to be kind of secret about it sence my Jim is got 
 so fond of the stuff that I have to hide my jug 
 from him. I tell you, Captain, whisky is mighty 
 good if 3'ou can take it like I do, but young folks 
 is not to be trusted these days." 
 
 "Thank you, Squire; please excuse me." A 
 shadow passed over the Captain's face, and he 
 thought: ** Suppose Roger should do like Jim. 
 What?" 
 
 The supper and breakfast had been more easily 
 arranged for than a comfortable sleeping place. 
 Geese feathers may be good material to make 
 beds for the winter months ; but in June, and in the 
 narrow confines of a log cabin, they are not best 
 
32 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 suited to promote sound slumber, and when the 
 Captain and Roger saw the prospect of sleeping 
 on small feather beds in a close room they retired 
 and left the house to the mother and Helen and 
 the maid, and with their saddle blankets and some 
 small pillows made themselves comfortable on the 
 front piazza, if such the shelter before the door 
 might be called. The good ladies did not attempt 
 to sleep on the beds of down, but made what we 
 people of the South call "pallets" on the floor; 
 but the Squire's family never knew that their gen- 
 erous self-sacrifice in giving up the feather beds 
 to company had been ignored. 
 
 In a good humor the journey began the next 
 day. There were two more long drives before 
 the more thickly settled parts of middle Georgia 
 were reached, but there were good stopping places 
 and kindly entertainment along the route. In 
 those days every planter's home was open to trav- 
 elers. There were no inns save in the towns, and 
 the man who owned a hundred slaves and kept his 
 carriage opened his door readily to the traveler. 
 If he could pay with true politeness, he charged 
 him for his entertainment. From the pine woods 
 and the wire grass the travelers came into the 
 older counties, with their large plantations and 
 handsome homes. The first settlers of Georgia 
 
A GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS. 33 
 
 were poor people, and the beautiful domain was 
 divided into small farms. These were distributed 
 by lot, and many of them were occupied by those 
 who drew them ; but the early settlers were a rest- 
 less race, and the farms were sold and bought by 
 those content to stay until the plantation took the 
 place of the farm, and where many men had 
 owned farms of two hundred acres each one man 
 became the owner of a plantation of one thousand 
 and sometimes of five thousand acres. The vera- 
 cious chronicler of the Lawsons has sometimes in 
 his early days gone for miles along a highway 
 every foot of which was owned by one planter. 
 These large tracts were divided into different set- 
 tlements, upon each of which a body of slaves were 
 placed under the charge of an overseer, who was 
 always a white man. The planter's home was 
 generally handsome and comfortable. It was 
 often a large, square wooden building painted 
 white, wdth broad verandas front and rear. The 
 halls were wide and the rooms large. A great 
 open fireplace blazed with hickory logs in the 
 winter; and in summer windows and doors were, 
 without fear of thieves, thrown open wide. The 
 old plantation houses in Georgia are, alas ! disap- 
 pearing, and where there was once almost every 
 mile a delightful home there is now merely a range 
 
34 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 of somewhat squalid houses peopled by the negro 
 tenants of the capitalist who has become the pos- 
 sessor of a score of holdings. Our travelers found 
 sufficient comfort on the way; but there was little 
 to interest, and at last, after ten days of easy jour- 
 neying, the family were at tlieir summer home. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " IVY BUSH." 
 
 JVY BUSH " was the name of Capt. Lawson's 
 summer place. It was a neat little cottage 
 nestling at the base of iv3'-clad hills. A fertile val- 
 ley stretched away to the river, which here came 
 bounding over the rocks, forming a shoal of great 
 beauty. The hills lying back from the cottage 
 were not fertile, but they were covered with a 
 beautiful forest in which, at this season of the 
 year, the woodland flowers were in rich profusion: 
 the laurel, the ivy, the red woodbine, the trumpet 
 flower, and the wild honeysuckles, which were 
 still in bloom in high places, though it was early in 
 the summer. 
 
 Here among the cedars and mountain pines and 
 oaks was " Ivy Bush " cottage. It was plain but 
 comfortable, and was well though plainly furnished. 
 A favorite servant who lived with his family on the 
 place winter and summer kept things ready for the 
 coming owner. There were hay and clover in the 
 barn, home-cured meats in the smokehouse, and a 
 
 garden full of early vegetables waiting for the 
 
 (35) 
 
36 THE EOY IN GRAY. 
 
 family. It was indeed a cosy nook in which to 
 hide away, and the tired travelers enjoyed it fully. 
 Captain Lawson had bought the place five years 
 before, and had improved it by removing the un- 
 sightly log hut in which the former owner had 
 lived and by building the present cottage. He 
 kept it merely for a retreat from low-country 
 heats, and spent from June to November at it. 
 There were a hundred acres of good valley land ; 
 the rest was in forest. The village of Clarksville 
 was three miles away, but on the hills around him 
 some families froiTi middle and lower Georgia had 
 settled summer residences. It was, perhaps, to be 
 regretted that these people were numerous enough 
 to make up a circle of their own, and that they did 
 not intermix with the people native to the county 
 to a greater extent; for generally people who know 
 least of each other think least of each other, es- 
 pecially if they are neighbors, and many a quarrel 
 might have been prevented if the people who en- 
 gaged in it had been thrown under the same roof 
 for a week before it began. The low-country 
 people called the up-country people *' Crackers," 
 and the up-country people retaliated by calling 
 them " Stuck-up High Flyers." The families had 
 but little intercourse with each other; but it so 
 happened that Squire Bass, a substantial old farm- 
 
" IVY BUSH." 37 
 
 er whose place adjoined Capt. Lawson's had 
 been closely connected with the Captain in some 
 business affairs, and the Captain had been enter- 
 tained at his home, and so the two families had be- 
 come on quite good terms. The old Squire was 
 one of the best specimens of an up-country farm- 
 er. Religious, sensible, decided, kind-hearted, 
 pushing, industrious, and withal well to do, he 
 lived in great comfort in his double log house, 
 around which were four hundred acres of arable 
 land. His grass and grain grew in the valley, and 
 his hillsides were for pasturage. Forty years be- 
 fore he had moved from Rutherford County, N. 
 C, to the woods of Habersham and settled on the 
 very tract of land on which he lived now. He 
 brought with him his rosy-cheeked bride. Peggy 
 Burns was her name before she married. She was 
 only sixteen and he was eighteen when they were 
 wed, and for near fifty years they two had jour- 
 neyed hand in hand together. When they came 
 to the wilds she was a bride, and she bravely stood 
 by him in all his early struggles. It was a hard 
 life at first. The trees were to be felled, the cabin 
 to be built, and the crop to be made ; and she had 
 brought him no dowry, and he had only means 
 enough to buy his land. Her old mother gave 
 her a spinning wheel and a loom, and she knew 
 
38 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 how to use them; and for all these years the 
 Squire had never worn any clothing her loom did 
 not weave and her needle did not make. His 
 rich son from Atlanta sent him a suit of broad- 
 cloth, tailor made, but he left it in the great hair- 
 covered trunk and wore his brown jeans suit still, 
 Aunt Peggy, as everybody called her, was a stout 
 old body of sixty-five. Her house was as neat as 
 a pin. The floors were covered with rag carpet 
 woven by her own hand, and the beds were cov- 
 ered with woolen counterpanes of blue checks in 
 winter, with homemade spreads of snowy whiteness 
 in summer. Everything told of her love of neat- 
 ness and order. They had no well: but a spring 
 bubbling at the foot of a ^vhite oak sent a merry 
 brook toward the river, and a huge trough of poplar 
 into which the refreshing current ran furnished a 
 receptacle for her crocks of milk and butter. The 
 hillside had on it a magnificent orchard of apples 
 and cherries, and a row of huge walnut trees 
 which the good man of the house had planted 
 thirty years before was in the lane in front of the 
 house. They were contented and happy old peo- 
 ple who had brought up a large family. All their 
 children were gone from them now but the baby 
 boy, Jimmy I shall call him. He was twenty 
 years old, but he was their baby boy still. There 
 
" IVY BUSH." 39 
 
 were half a dozen negro slaves on the place. 
 When the Squire came to Habersham he had none ; 
 but his wife's mother died, and a black man and his 
 wife were their legacy. They had never bought a 
 slave and never sold one ; but as the children went 
 from them they each took with them one of the 
 negroes who had been brought up with them, and 
 now old Joe and Kitty and the four boys were left 
 at the home. I have lingered long around this old 
 homestead; in truth, I am loath to leave it. How 
 man}'^ happy hours have I spent under this hospi- 
 table roof! No wonder Capt. Lawson loved the 
 old people, and no wonder his wife was a favorite 
 with Mrs. Lawson and Helen. The Squire was a 
 stanch Methodist and a class leader, and Aunt 
 Peggy had been one before him, and all their chil- 
 dren followed them. The Lawson children had 
 learned to love these good old people, and Roger 
 was an especial favorite with the old Squire, and 
 indeed Roger was a boy to be fond of. He was 
 so bright, so generous, so brave, so unsuspicious, 
 just such a boy as makes one who knows boys anx- 
 ious lest he be ruined by a wicked world. The 
 first visitor to the Lawsons after they reached 
 Habersham was the Squire. Jimmy attended to 
 the farm now, and his father took the world easy. 
 He had an old horse, Ball was his name, which 
 
40 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 he had raised from a colt and which his own hand 
 had fed for these fourteen years; and when Ball 
 was seen hitched you might be sure the Squire 
 was near by. The Lawsons had not fairly finished 
 breakfast the day after they came when Roger 
 called out: "There is old Ball at the gate and 
 there is the Squire ! " And he ran to give a hearty 
 greeting to his old friend. " Come in, Squire. We 
 are so glad to see you. How is Aunt Peggy? and 
 how is Jimmy? and how is Trip? and" — 
 
 " Bless you, boy, give me a chance to blov/. 
 They is all well, and how's your folks? Glad you 
 is all back to Habersham." 
 
 "Well, come in. We are just at breakfast. 
 Won't you come and have some? " 
 
 "Have breakfast? you lazy folks; why Jeems 
 is been in the bottom a plowin' this two hour. 
 I've had breakfast three hour ago. But where's 
 your pappy?" 
 
 "Here he comes now; he'll be awful glad to 
 see you, and there is mamma and Helen." 
 
 The old gentleman received a hearty greeting 
 from them all. 
 
 " Well, Squire, I am much obliged to you for 
 seeing after things, and as you won't let me pay 
 you, Helen and Mary have brought you and Aunt 
 Peggy a little present, and I made Jack put in 
 
" IVY BUSH. 41 
 
 the wagon a little sack of rice as a present for 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Bass," said Helen, "I have 
 brought you a pair of spectacles. I told the jewel- 
 er to give me some strong Presbyterian ones, so 
 you could read the Bible right; and here is Aunt 
 Peggy's present," giving him a New Testament 
 of extra large print beautifully bound in Turkey 
 morocco." 
 
 *' You brought me some Prisbyteran glasses, 
 did you, 5^ou sassy gal? Well, they'll have to be 
 mighty strong before I can see any of your Pris- 
 byteran doctrine about election in the Testa- 
 ment. Well, won't Peggy be proud? Well, how 
 have 3''OU all been this long time? " 
 
 " O you can see we are all well. How is Aunt 
 Peggy?" said Helen." 
 
 " Well, Peggy is tolerable, she has a leetel 
 touch of the rheumatiz, but she keeps a gwine and 
 gets about right peart. She says you must all 
 come over Saturday and take dinner with us, and 
 bring your knittin' and spend the day. I must go 
 up to Clarksville this mornin', but I rid by to light 
 a minute. But I must be a gwine. Good morn- 
 in'." And the old man and old Ball were soon 
 out of sight. 
 
 On Saturday Capt. Lawson and his family went 
 
42 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 over to spend the day. What delightful times 
 those all-day visits were. The motherly Aunt 
 Peggy met them at the gate and kissed Mrs. Law- 
 son and Helen tenderly and led them into the 
 homely dwelling. I suppose it will change — in- 
 deed,, I know it has changed — but I wish it never 
 had, those days of old when wealth and style and 
 culture did not come in to separate people who 
 were made to love each other. I don't know 
 enough about the way women entertain each 
 other to tell of how pleasantly the hours passed by 
 with Mrs. Lawson and Aunt Peggy, but this visit 
 had an influence on Helen's future which was 
 greater than she knew. 
 
 "Well, how m}?- little gal has growed," said 
 Aunt Peggy. " So you've left school, is you? 
 and you can play the pianny and paint picters, 
 but have you larned how to cook? Can ye cut and 
 make your own frocks and make your pappy's 
 coat and breeches?" 
 
 " Why no, Aunt Peggy, that was not taught at 
 Dr. Marks's school." 
 
 " Well, it ought to have been. I tell you good 
 vittals is a mighty helpful thing in this world, and 
 you never know what's gwine to happen. Jeems 
 won't let me cook now; but for ten year arter we 
 was married he never eat a bite I did not cook, 
 
<' IVY BUSH." 43 
 
 and I've larned Maria how to do it to suit him. 
 You may never have it to do, your mother never 
 has, but you don't know what'll come to pass." 
 
 "You are right, Aunt Peggy," said Mrs. Law- 
 son. " I am only sorry I never did learn to do 
 - these things, and I wish Helen did know how to 
 manage like you do." 
 
 " I tell you, Helen, my child, thar is nothin' 
 mean about work; I know you can 'broider and 
 do — what do you call that kind of knittin' you do 
 with one needle? — crochsha}^ yes, but to make 
 good butter, to cook good bread, to know how to 
 manage with chickens which has the pip and the 
 sore head (I never could manage coleray, though), 
 is better than all that. Never, gal, put yourself 
 wharyou are obleeged to marry a rich man." 
 
 " Thank 3^ou, Aunt Peggy. If Aunt Judy don't 
 drive me out of the kitchen, I am going to learn 
 how to cook this summer." 
 
 When Roger went with the Squire and his fa- 
 ther to the stable he asked for Jimmy. 
 
 "Jeems is down in the bottom. That 3'^oung 
 corn is growing mighty peart and needs plowing 
 mighty bad, and he and the boys are at work 
 thar. He'll be up to dinner, and he'll knock off 
 then. I tell you. Captain, I believe in boys as 
 havin' somethin' to do. The best thing for a boy 
 
44 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 like Roger here and Jeems is to have regular 
 work. They must bar the yoke in their youth as 
 the Scripter says. They think their daddies is 
 right tight on 'em, but they get whar they know its 
 best. Jeems would have liked to have rested to- 
 day, case he thinks a power of Roger and Helen, 
 but he said he would not do so. So, Roger, you 
 must enjoy yourself as best you kin till he comes. 
 You can take Trip and go a squirrelen or you 
 can ride with me and your pappy over the farm." 
 
 " I'll take Trip and go squn-reling," said Roger. 
 
 The Captain and the old man were riding along 
 when the Squire said: "What's this about the 
 Dimocrat party a splitten. What's it a splitten 
 about anyhow ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, I don't know the cause of the split, but 
 I fear the result of it." 
 
 "Do you think them black Republicans is got 
 any chance to elect a President." 
 
 "Well, I am afraid they have a good one» I 
 got a long letter from Alex Stephens (you know 
 he and I were in college together), and he is much 
 troubled." 
 
 "Well, you know. Captain, I am a Union 
 Dimocrat. I voted for Andrew Jackson the first 
 time I ever voted, but I've been afeared between 
 the aboHtioners and the fire eaters we was gwine 
 
" IVY BUSH." 45 
 
 to get into trouble." How is craps with you 
 all?" 
 
 " Well, you know I've lost two crops of rice 
 in succession, but the prospect now is good if we 
 don't have another flood." 
 
 *' How many niggers do you have to feed any- 
 how?" 
 
 " I have two hundred and fifty, all told, and 
 when my rice fails it is an almost total failure. I 
 have had to borrow money largely or sell my 
 negroes, and I could not do that; but if I've a good 
 crop this year, I hope I'll come out." 
 
 " Captain, what are you gwine to do with my 
 boy Roger." 
 
 "Well, I am sending him to school, and he is 
 about ready to enter the university. I want him 
 to make a scholar. After that I will let him choose 
 what to do." 
 
 " Captain, you and I have always been good 
 friends, and, if you will allow me, I would like to 
 say a few words, case I think you'll take it right." 
 
 " Certainly, only don't try to get me to go to 
 class meeting again. I tried that once." 
 
 "Well, I ain't a gwine to do that; its about 
 Roger. You are not settin' the right example be- 
 fore that boy." 
 
46 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 The Captain's cheek reddened. "How," he 
 said, " am I faihng? " 
 
 "Well, when I tuck dinner with you last year 
 you know right before Roger you asked me to 
 jine you in a dram ; and when I would not you tuck 
 one yourself, and then you had wine on the table 
 and Roger drunk a glass and you drunk two. 
 
 "Why certainly, I was raised that way and I 
 never was drunk; and I want Roger to learn to 
 control himself, so I never refuse him wine when 
 he wants it." 
 
 " Well, Captain, I can't argy with you, but 
 somehow it don't seem to me to be right. I am 
 afeard of consequences. But thar's the dinner 
 horn; let's go back." 
 
 Jimmy returned from the field and Roger from 
 the wood, and the young plowman soon came 
 from his room neatly clad in his Sunday suit. 
 The Squire would not wear store clothes himself, 
 but he bought them for Jeems he said; and as Jim- 
 my had spent two years in his brother's counting- 
 room in Atlanta, he had taken on the easy ways 
 of a city boy, and when he welcomed Roger and 
 Helen he did so with easy grace and greeted the 
 fair girl with great heartiness, though his cheek 
 reddened a little as he met her. The contrast be- 
 tween the sturdy form and high color of the 
 
"IVY BUSH." 47 
 
 mountain boy and the beautiful brunette from the 
 coast was striking, and was not less a contrast than 
 his hearty tone and open manner and her inde- 
 scribable gentleness and sweetness of tone which 
 marked the women of her class of coast people. 
 Roger was delighted to see his old friend. Jim- 
 my had been his earliest Habersham friend. 
 They had fished for trout and perch and hunted 
 birds and squirrels and had driven cattle for the 
 Squire from the mountains together. Jimmy was 
 was four years older than Roger, and the Captain 
 and Mrs. Lawson were not unwilling for Roger to 
 have a companion whom they could trust so im- 
 plicitly. As for Helen, it was not to be supposed 
 by them that she would feel anything greater than 
 a friend's interest in Jimmy, nor did they suppose 
 he would in her, and they were right. The old 
 Squire and his good wife would have been as little 
 pleased with the prospect of a tender passage be- 
 tween these young folks as the Captain and Mrs. 
 Lawson. So if you think I am going to tell you a 
 love story and to tell you that the handsome young 
 plowman was going to fall in love with the plant- 
 er's daughter, and that there was going to be a real 
 romance, you are mistaken. The truth is, Mary 
 Blakely, over the mountains, had already won Jim- 
 my's heart, and at the last Loudsville camp meet- 
 
48 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ing the engagement had been made, and that fact 
 was much to the gratification of the old people, 
 but that was no reason why Jimmy should not like 
 Helen. She was as cordial as a warm-hearted 
 girl could be, and he did like her. So when din- 
 ner was over the young folks went out hunting 
 flowers on the hillsides, which only a month before 
 had been bleak and bare. The mountain country 
 where the Lawsons lived was over 1,800 feet 
 higher than their coast plantation; and while the 
 early flowers were gone long ago in Liberty, the 
 fields and woods of Habersham were in richest 
 loveliness in June. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when, after a day 
 of real enjoyment, the family returned home. 
 The maid met them with the announcement that 
 Col. Du Barry, his wife, and Miss Flora had called 
 while they were gone, and left their cards and an 
 invitation for them to dine at the " Crow's Nest" 
 on Wednesday next. 
 
 Col. Du Barr}?^ was a retired factor from Savan- 
 nah. He had a large planting interest in lower 
 Georgia, several rice plantations, and any quantity 
 of money and bonds. He did not like the water- 
 ing places of the North, and his hay fever was re- 
 lieved by the mountain air; and so he had an ele- 
 gant home to which he came every year, and to 
 
" IVY BUSH." 49 
 
 which his wife came when she did not go to Sara- 
 toga or the White Sulphur, which she was pretty 
 apt to do every summer. They were now in 
 Habersham; and as they knew the Lawsons well, 
 they called to invite them to dine. The invited 
 guests went to the elegant dinner and had an 
 evening of what the world calls enjoyment. 
 The old Colonel and Mrs. Du Barry, and Capt. 
 Lawson and Mrs. Lawson played whist at one 
 table, and young Du Barry and his sister and 
 Helen and Roger played another game of cards at 
 another table. Wine was freely served at dinner, 
 and all drank as a matter of course ; but when they 
 went home they agreed with Roger when he said : 
 '* You may say what you please, but I like Squire 
 Bass and Aunt Peggy's plain ways better than all 
 this fuss and feathers." That is, I am sure, the 
 honest opinion we all have ; but I fear that if j'ou 
 and I were rich enough we would rather be called 
 Du Barry than Bass, and dine as late and in as good 
 form as the Du Barrys did than at twelv^e o'clock 
 and in the simple way of the Squire, but it would 
 not make Roger's remark any the less sensible. 
 4 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A CHAPTER WHICH I WISH COULD BE LEFT OUT. 
 
 (f^HE love I had for Roger would have led me to 
 ^ have kept back everything which detracted 
 from him, but a faithful biographer must tell the 
 truth or not speak at all. Roger had been a good 
 boy up to the present time. When he was very 
 small he had been very religious. His old colored 
 mammy used to talk to him a great deal about God 
 and heaven and hell; and his dear mother used to 
 read to him from the Bible and from good books, 
 and teach him to sing and to pray. He learned 
 the Shorter Catechism by heart, and old Dr. 
 Preston, the pastor of Med way, after he was four- 
 teen more than once expressed the hope that he 
 would come into the Church at the next communion. 
 It would have been so easy then for a gentle hand 
 to have led him into the fold, for he was so near 
 the kingdom of God; but childhood passed, and 
 thoughtless boyhood came; and now he was near- 
 ing young manhood, and had not professed re- 
 ligion. He had been taught to shrink from false- 
 hood, cowardice, penuriousness, rudeness, and 
 (50) 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 5 1 
 
 cruelty, and he had a wholesome aversion to them 
 all; but alas! he had never been taught that re- 
 ligious faith was for a little boy, and he had not 
 taken Jesus as his Saviour, and had never been 
 made anew by his grace. 
 
 Dick Du Barry was as graceless a young repro- 
 bate as ever wore decent clothing, but he was as 
 fascinating as he was vile. His mother was a 
 woman of fashion, and his father a man of the 
 world. The family was of the earth, earthy. 
 Dick, although he was no orphan, had never 
 known a mother's tender care. Another breast 
 nourished him when a babe, and another hand at- 
 tended him as a little child. High-spirited and 
 willful, the handsome, smart little fellow soon 
 learned how to tyrannize over inferiors and how 
 to secure his ends, and he used his knowledge to 
 good effect. His governess gave him up as incor- 
 rigible as she gave up her place, and he was sent 
 while still a child to a boarding school, and sent 
 back home by the teacher. Then, when he was 
 older, he was sent to Maj. Bingham. The Major 
 would have conquered the stubborn, willful boy by 
 his military discipHne ; but he smuggled out a let- 
 ter to his mother, telling the most doleful story of 
 his wrongs, and she sent for him to come home. 
 Then his father, who had been educated by the 
 
52 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Jesuits, sent him to Spring Hill; but the good fa- 
 thers dismissed him from school, and he was now 
 in Habersham. 
 
 There were some things Dick knew perfectly. 
 He was fully up on etiquette, he knew how to 
 dance all the new figures, and there was no game 
 of cards, from faro to whist, which he could not 
 teach one to play. He was a capital rider, a good 
 shot, and dressed in perfect taste. There was 
 nothing rude or blustering in his manner, and his 
 French blood indicated its presence by a beauti- 
 ful polish. He had seen the world; he had gone 
 with his mother, season after season, to Saratoga 
 and White Sulphur, in Virginia, and he went with 
 her on her trip to Paris. He profited by his op- 
 portunities to learn everything that he ought not 
 to have known. 
 
 Poor Roger was never away from his country 
 home. Unsuspecting, confiding, he was just such 
 a boy as nearly always falls a victim to such a foe 
 as young Du Barry was. 
 
 Dick did not dislike Roger; on the other hand, 
 he was very fond of him, and it was all the worse 
 for Roger that he was. In a Httle while Roger 
 was completely under his control, and woe to him 
 that it was so ! Every day they were together. 
 
 In Dick's bedroom there was a trunk in which 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 53 
 
 he had stored away a number of those vile books 
 which even the hiw shuts out from the mails, and 
 whose only claim to distinction is that they are 
 vile. He had no end of stories of flirtations and 
 escapades. Many of these stories were false, and 
 some, alas ! were true. 
 
 The young folks at " Crow's Nest" and "Ivy 
 Bush" had their card parties and their dances 
 and their excursions; the heads of the families 
 still opened their wine, and drank their cognac. 
 The Lawson family went in regularly to the little 
 church in the village, and Mrs. Lawson read de- 
 voutly her Bible every day, and read the New York 
 Observer on Sunday afternoon; and no one saw 
 that a serpent was already coiled, and about to 
 strike the son, the pride of the household. 
 
 It was by gradual, and yet rapid, movement 
 that the noble boy fell into bad ways. I need not 
 particularize. He was but a boy, not quite sev- 
 enteen, a warm-hearted, thoughtless, fun-loving 
 boy, without religion, who had been allowed to 
 tamper with drink and with cards all his life. He 
 knew that his mother would never suspect him of 
 wrongdoing, and believed that his father would 
 not be severe in his censure of his vagaries if he 
 should discover them. When he first became 
 conscious that he had taken too much wine, there 
 
54 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 was a feeling of deep shame and remorse ; but the 
 pride of the Lawsons came to his aid, and he re- 
 solved that he would prove he was strong enough 
 to resist the next time. True, Dick Du Barry had 
 taken three glasses to his one, but he would not 
 go even that far again, even though he did not to- 
 tally abstain. 
 
 Dick and Roger were almost inseparable. His 
 old friend, Jimmie Bass, found Roger somewhat 
 cold, and quietly drew off from him; and the 
 Squire looked sad when Roger's name was men- 
 tioned, and when Dick and Roger came dashing 
 by old Ball and his master as they were going to 
 Clarksville, and there was scarcely a recognition, 
 the old man's face was shadowed, and he said to 
 himself, " Tut, tut I shame, shame ! blind, blind ! " 
 What he meant he knew. I could only conjecture. 
 
 The billiard room in Clarksville was a favorite 
 resort of the boys, and Roger and Dick joined 
 their other friends. The pool was made, money 
 was lost and won in trifling amounts ; but gaming 
 liad begun. 
 
 The Captain was absorbed in politics; Helen 
 was painting a landscape and readingMr. Dickens's 
 new book, " Dombey and Son; " and poor Roger 
 was going to the bad, and nobody saw it. Nobody ? 
 Yes, One saw it, and that One in mercy interfered. 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 55 
 
 His divine Father had an eye on him which never 
 slept, and he is understood how to act. There 
 are times that sin has to uncover itself and show 
 what it will do before the sinner will pause; but 
 the devil sometimes defeats himself, or his agents 
 disobey his instructions. 
 
 Dick and Roger, often under the pretense of go- 
 ing to churches to meeting, took long rides into the 
 country round about; and though they did go to 
 meeting, they went for a frolic, and not for de- 
 votion. 
 
 One Saturday Dick said to Roger: " Roger, 
 there's going to be a meeting of the Tiger Tail 
 Association up on Tallulah to-morrow, and a 
 crowd of us are going up to have a rare time. 
 Don't let the women folks know where you are 
 going, but just tell them you are going to church, 
 and ride over by my house and we'll go up." 
 
 "All right; I'll come." 
 
 Roger did not come to that conclusion without 
 compunction, but he had committed himself to 
 Dick so completely that he was not disposed to re- 
 sist. Dick and the Heyward boys and Alfred 
 Hartley formed a group of fast low-country boys, 
 all older than Roger and all of them from the best 
 families. They hunted deer and foxes together, 
 and in all the frolics of the time they had their 
 
56 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 share. They did not always go to the most repu- 
 table places and did not meet the most reputable 
 people, and sometimes they had unpleasant con- 
 flicts with the county youths. 
 
 The Durham boys lived in a cove of the moun- 
 tains. There were five of them. They were 
 rude, uneducated, coarse, and courageous. They 
 delighted in their physical strength and enjoyed 
 nothing more than a row. The coterie of low- 
 country bloods had aroused their ire, and there 
 was danger of open conflict. It came sooner than 
 they thought. The young men from the low 
 country who went to the Association were all 
 drinking, Roger among them. They were in a 
 hilarious mood when they reached the grounds 
 where the Association was held. There was quite 
 a crowd gathered. A shelter was made by plac- 
 ing the boughs of the small oaks on a frame, and 
 seats were made of logs. This constituted the 
 preaching place. The preachers, dressed in 
 homely garb, were preaching from this stand. 
 Elder Pigeon, from Rabun, was holding forth in 
 a quaint style on "And the oil stayed;" and he 
 was followed by Elder Tucker, on "And he took 
 thereout a rib." The sermons were certainly 
 unique enough, and tlie tone was as striking as 
 the texts were odd. The group of which Roger 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 57 
 
 was one were more amused than profited, and they 
 did not hide their merriment. More than once they 
 laughed outright. Bob Durham was not a mem- 
 ber of the old side Church, but he was akin to 
 the preacher who was forced to rebuke sharply 
 the irreverent youngsters, and his ire rose at their 
 disrespect to the place. He glared at the crowd 
 angrily, and when they rose to leave, as they did 
 in the midst of the sermon, he and his brothers 
 rose too, and they went to where the offenders 
 had their horses. Walking up to Dick Du Barry, 
 he said sharply: " Well, you'd better leave here. 
 You think yourself powerful smart with your fine 
 clothes and highty-tighty airs, but if you don't 
 leave here pretty quick there'll be a way found to 
 make ye." 
 
 The boys were half intoxicated and were ready 
 for a row. Dick was no coward ; and, shaking his 
 whip at Durham, he angrily said: " You'll make 
 me, will you? If you don't want a taste of this 
 whip, you will get away from here." 
 
 "I will, will I? If you'll pull off that broad- 
 cloth coat and stand up like a man, I'll teach you 
 some manners." 
 
 " Manners, you blackguard? You'll teach m.e? 
 I'll horsewhip you if you say a word." 
 
 " Well, maybe you will, smarty, after I've 
 
58 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 smacked your jaws, and I'll do that before you 
 know it." 
 
 With a sudden stroke Dick brought his whip 
 down on the rustic's shoulders, and in a moment 
 the sturdy mountaineer had him by the throat and 
 blow after blow from the stout hickory riding 
 switch he had in his hand fell on the broadcloth 
 coat of Du Barry. 
 
 Roger rushed up to the aid of his friend, and 
 Bill Durham, Bob's sturdy brother, seized him 
 and threw him down; and was about to fall upon 
 him when Jim Phillips and Jimmy Bass came on 
 the scene. Phillips separated the two combatants, 
 Du Barry and Bob; and Jimmy seized Roger and 
 violently led him away. 
 
 "That will do. Bob," said Phillips; "let him 
 alone; Pll take care of him." 
 
 "Well, take him away, Jim Phillips. You's a 
 gentleman, if you is rich; but if you don't, Pll 
 maul the life outen him." 
 
 Roger was angry enough to have dared any 
 danger, and struggled to rush to his friend's help; 
 but he was a child in Jimmy's hands, and Jimmy 
 held him firmly as he said to Bill: " Bill, 3^ou and 
 I are good friends; now let this drop for my 
 sake." 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 59 
 
 "Well, Jim, I will, but no man shall tech my 
 brother in a far fight." 
 
 The feeUng of Roger as he rode away was not 
 to be envied; the Sabbath desecrated, and now a 
 disgraceful row in which he bore so shameful a 
 part was what his course brought about, and his 
 mortification and anger were both increased when 
 the very person who had influenced him to do these 
 things angrily said: "Roger Lawson, you are a 
 brave friend, aren't you, to stand by and see a 
 friend beaten like a dog because you were too 
 cowardly to help him ? ' ' 
 
 "He did want to help you, Mr. Du Barry," 
 said Jimmy Bass very decidedly; " and if there is 
 anybody to blame for his not doing it, it is not 
 Roger Lawson but Jimmy Bass, and 3rou know 
 where to find him." 
 
 Jimmy and Roger rode on together. The others 
 of the group had nov/ come up ; and Du Barry, an- 
 gry and humiliated, rode off at a rapid pace with 
 them. 
 
 " Roger," said Jimm}^ as they parted at the gate, 
 " I'll see you to-morrov/ night. Good-b3^e now." 
 
 The next night he came, and Roger joined him 
 for a walk. " Roger," said his old friend, "we've 
 been boys together, and I've seen where you were 
 going to lately, and now this thing must be stopped, 
 
6o THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 or you are a ruined boy. To think of your moth- 
 er's son and Miss Helen's brother taking up with 
 such a crowd! I am ashamed of you." 
 
 Roger's eyes were opened. He saw the gulf he 
 had just escaped, and not too soon; but the 
 deepest pang was before him. His father, igno- 
 rant of what had happened, went to the village, 
 when Col. Billups called him into his office. "Cap- 
 tain," he said, " Squire Larkins came to see me 
 to-day to have a presentment made to the next 
 grand jury of a crowd of boys who are accused 
 of disturbing public worship, and your boy was 
 among them, I begged the Squire to hold up till I 
 could see you." 
 
 " Impossible ! Col. Billups, it is impossible ! My 
 boy has been too well bred." 
 
 " Well, you see Jimmy Bass. He was there, and 
 will tell you all about it." 
 
 He went at once to the Squire's, and sent for 
 Jimmy. Jimmy told the story as it was. Roger 
 was intoxicated, and he did disturb public wor- 
 ship. 
 
 The Captain's face burned with indignation. 
 *'To think that I have trusted him so, and he has 
 disgraced me! I will send him to Maj. Bingham, 
 and let him tame him," he said to Squire Bass. 
 
 Squire Bass said calmly and gently, but sadly: 
 
A REGRETFUL CHAPTER. 6l 
 
 "No, Captain, you will do no sich thing. You 
 remember my talk with you. You are to blame, 
 not the boy." 
 
 *'Yes, Squire, I am. II Roger goes to the bad, 
 I am to blame; but hear me, the last decanter of 
 brandy has been used at my house, and the last 
 bottle of wine has been opened there." 
 
 "That's right. Captain. Now don't be hard 
 on Roger. I've raised six boys. I know 'em. 
 Take the self-respect from 'em, and j-ou haint 
 nothin' left. Talk plain to him, but be kind. 
 Make him quit a goin' with that Du Barry boy. 
 Give him somethin' to do, and trust in God for the 
 rest." 
 
 " Thank you, my old friend; and may God for- 
 give a poor, misguided, sinning father, and save 
 his boy from ruin ! " 
 
 The Captain came sadly home. He saw that 
 the frank face of his proud boy was clouded, and 
 the firm-set lips told of his determination to resent 
 rebuke, but rebuke did not come. The father 
 told his son sadly of what he had heard, told him 
 of the pang he had suffered, and then made an 
 honest and humble confession of his own error. 
 The boy was melted. He asked his father not to 
 let his mother or Helen know; and they never did, 
 and so Roger escaped the snare. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SOME PLEASING EVENTS. 
 
 T^T ELEN had not forgotten the advice given by 
 ■'^'^l Aunt Peggy, and she had intended to act 
 upon it; but she had delayed, partly because she 
 had a picture to finish, and partly because she was 
 afraid of Mom Judy. Mom Judy, the widow of 
 Daddy Juba, had been the chief cook of the Law- 
 sons ever since Helen could remember, and no 
 Catherine of Russia, or Elizabeth of England, 
 ever ruled with a more autocratic sway than Mom 
 Judy ruled her kitchen. She was almost as broad 
 as she was long. Her head was always turbaned 
 with a red handkerchief, and her strong arms were 
 bare to the elbow. Her kitchen was her castle, 
 and no one dared to cross its sacred threshold 
 without her consent. She had a helper in a 
 negro girl, whom she could alternately lecture, ad- 
 vise, and scold ; but for this I cannot say what would 
 have become of Mom Judy. I hope, however, the 
 effect of Chloe's absence would not have been 
 quite so serious as she said: " De trutc is, honey, 
 (G2) 
 
SOME PLEASING EVENTS. 6^ 
 
 I am jes obleeged to scole somebody, or dis ole 
 nigger would bust wide open; she would for true." 
 And that would have been a calamity of no small 
 magnitude. She came every morning to her mis- 
 tress to get orders for the day, and Helen went 
 with her to the pantry and the smokehouse, and 
 supplied her demands, and after these stores went 
 into the kitchen no one knew more of them till 
 they reappeared on the table. 
 
 The kitchen was some little distance from the 
 house. It was a rather large room with a large 
 fireplace, in which was a crane for the pot, and a 
 full supply of pots, kettles, ovens, skillets, spiders, 
 frying pans, etc., and, indeed, all the needful furni- 
 ture for a good kitchen. 
 
 The floor was always neatly sanded with white 
 sand from the brook, and the room was kept 
 scrupulously clean. 
 
 Stoves were not common in the South in that 
 day ; and while there was one here, Mom Judy pro- 
 tested against the innovation, and still used her 
 old utensils. Indeed, if she could not have seen 
 the red coals on the lid and basted the big turkey 
 in the great oven and heard the bubbling of the 
 boiling pot, she would have been unhappy. 
 
 Chloe was her scullion. She was her grand- 
 daughter, and Mom Judy's ambition was to make 
 
64 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 a high-order cook out of Chloe ; but the wayward 
 girl taxed her patience sorely. To-dzy, as usual, 
 Mom Judy was on the rampage, and Chloe was in 
 vain protesting, with an air of injured innocence, 
 in a kind of soliloquy: "I clar I cain't please 
 grandmammy no way; if I does somethin* she 
 fusses, if I does nothin' she fusses, if I try to 
 please her she fusses, and if I don't try to please 
 her she fusses; she is de worry ob my life." 
 
 She was now giving Chloe fair warning that she 
 " would bust her head open wid dat rollin' pin de 
 fust thing she knowed," which threats did not 
 seem to alarm Chloe in the least. 
 
 Just then Helen came tripping into the kitchen. 
 In a moment there was a calm, and a broad smile 
 covered the black face as she said: "Well, little 
 missie, glad to see you in de kitchen. What kin 
 your old mammy do fer you? " 
 
 " Well, Aunt Judy, I have come to get you to 
 learn me to cook." 
 
 An expression of blank amazement came over 
 the old face. Was her "little missie jes a projeckin' 
 wid her. Yes, dat was it," and with a hearty laugh 
 she said: "I larn 3'ou to cook? Yes, when my 
 little missie larns ole Judy how to play de peanner." 
 
 *' No, Aunt Judy, I am serious; I want to learn 
 how^ to cook." 
 
SOME PLEASING EVENTS. 65 
 
 Aunt Judy looked in alarm. Had her little mis- 
 tress lost her mind? What was the matter? But 
 Helen said ; ' ' Now, Aunt Judy, be a good old dear, 
 and show me how. Aunt Peggy told me to learn." 
 
 " Well, dat splains it. When quality folks go 
 wid buckra folks deys gwine to larn buckra ways. 
 Why, little missus, dat ting jes can't be. I been 
 cook for my ole missus, your mudder's mudder, 
 an' my young missus, your mudder, an' nebber one 
 er dem put de foot in de kitchen, 'cept to give me 
 my orders. Why, little missie, it jes cain't be." 
 
 " But, Aunt Judy, we may be poor some day." 
 
 "Po? Why, Miss Helen! Who eber hear ob 
 a Lawson er a Maxwell bein' po? Ain't massa 
 got two hundred an' fift}' likely niggers, an' eber 
 so many tousand acres er land? an' now you want 
 to cook like po buckra. No, little missie, it jes 
 cain't be." 
 
 " But I may marry a poor man, and have to work 
 some day." 
 
 " You marry a po man? You — what, Col. Max- 
 well's granddarter? Why, Miss Helen, a po man 
 won't dar look at you. No, you go back an' paint 
 your pretty pictures ; you cain't come in here." 
 
 " Well, Aunt Judy, mother says I may." 
 
 "Well, ef young missus say so, den I say so. 
 
 Now, dar's dat new ting over dar yer pappy 
 5 
 
66 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 broiignt nere, dat new stove. I ain't use 'em, and 
 I don't want to use 'em; but I'll make Chloe kin- 
 dle you a fire in 'em, and den I'll do what young 
 missie say. But what would my ole missus say if 
 she seed it? " 
 
 So Helen took her first lesson in the fine art of 
 cooking. 
 
 I confess m.y ignorance along here. The mys- 
 teries of the kitchen I reckon I will never solve ; 
 but my admiration for the girl who knows how 
 to broil a steak, make a roll, or draw a cup of 
 rich, clear coffee from the fragrant berry, grows 
 with my advancing years. 
 
 When Roger saw his sister in the kitchen he re- 
 solved that he would learn something too. He 
 proposed to his father to take a farm hand's place 
 for the summer, and the Captain employed him 
 at regular wages; and he donned the dress of a 
 farmer boy, and went into the field regularly. 
 What he did, he did well. Jimmy Bass and he 
 met in the hayfields and the cornfields. Dick 
 Du Barry no longer recognized him, and Miss 
 Flora only nodded her head ; but Roger cared 
 little for that. He had more serious views of life, 
 and took up again those religious habits which he 
 for some time past had laid aside, and was Roger 
 over atrain. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A RATHER DULL BUT AN IMPOR.TANT CHAPTER. 
 
 /|SAPT. LAWSON was quite an intelligent 
 >^ man, and took great interest in political mat- 
 ters. He saw the clouds gathering in deeper vol- 
 ume on the political sky, and could not conceal 
 his anxiety. Few persons at this day can realize 
 the bitterness of the political parties before the 
 war. There were then in the field four parties: 
 the Breckinridge Democrat, the Douglas Demo- 
 crat, the Bell and Everett or American party, 
 and the Republicans. The Republican party 
 had no existence in Georgia, and so bitter was 
 the feeling against it that one's life would have 
 been in danger if he had avowed connection with 
 that party. Two things had fastened themselves 
 on every Southern mind: the one that if negro 
 slavery was overthrown white men could not live 
 in the South ; and the other, that the Republican 
 party was determined to overthrow it. The first 
 of these views was not correct, we know, but it was 
 held; and the last may not have been true, and 
 
 was certainly disavowed. It was hoped by men 
 
 (G7) 
 
68 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 like Capt. Lawson that the middle ground of the 
 American party, as unobjectionable, and men as 
 John Bell and Edward Everett, who were candi- 
 dates, might be accepted by both sections and that 
 peace might still hold sway, but it was soon evident 
 that when a divided Democratic and a united Re- 
 publican party were in conflict there could be but 
 one result, and from that Capt. Lawson shrank back 
 in great dread. He had returned with his family 
 to Liberty. The rice had been reaped and 
 thrashed and sent to his factors in Savannah to be 
 prepared for market ; for after the grain has been 
 cleared from straw and chaff on the plantation 
 it must be pounded at the rice mills in the city 
 until the yellow covering is stripped from it, 
 when it is sorted and packed in tierces, and 
 shipped to all parts of the world. There had no 
 disaster befallen the crop, and all things on the es- 
 tate promised well. The Captain cast his ballot 
 for John Bell and Edward Everett and went to his 
 home. He had a feeling of genuine depression, 
 for he felt assured that his vote had been in vain, 
 and it was. In a week came the news. The Re- 
 publican party was victorious. Mr. Lincoln was 
 elected. There was now consternation through- 
 out the South. Something must be done, but 
 what? I have a vivid remembrance of these days, 
 
DULL BUT IMPORTANT. 69 
 
 and one more vivid than pleasant. When the 
 Captain reached home the cloud on his face told 
 of the news he had heard. 
 
 *'Well, my dear," said his wife, "what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 "As I feared, Mr. Lincoln is elected, and what 
 that means God only can tell." 
 
 " Well, what of that? Surely the election of a 
 candidate you did not prefer does not mean so 
 much as you seem to think." 
 
 " No, it would not if it had been Douglas or 
 Breckinridge. But a black Republican in the 
 Presidency will not be borne. He must be a 
 foe to slavery, and its overthrow is our ruin. 
 South Carolina will secede, and other slave States 
 will follow." 
 
 "Will there be a war?" 
 
 " God forbid ! Alex Stephens writes me, how- 
 ever, that if there is secession it will certainly 
 come; and when it comes who can tell what will 
 be the end? Alas for party hate! " 
 
 That night Roger and his father had a long talk. 
 If my young friends will be a little patient, perhaps 
 I can tell them what they have wished to know: 
 why so many good people in the South went into 
 the war. 
 
 ' ' Father, ' ' said Roger, ' ' who made the Union ? ' ' 
 
70 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 '* The colonies, my son." 
 
 "What colonies?" 
 
 *' The thirteen independent colonies.'* 
 
 " Who made them independent? " 
 
 *' The English Government, whose colonies they 
 were, declared them such." 
 
 "How came these independent governments 
 united into one." 
 
 " They made a Confederacy." 
 
 " For what purpose? " 
 
 " For their own protection." 
 
 " Did any one surrender all right to withdraw 
 from this Confederacy? " 
 
 " No; on the contrary, some of them stipulated 
 that they would withdraw if their safety demand- 
 ed it." 
 
 " Did any State ever do so? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Did any ever propose to do so? " 
 
 "Yes ; the New England States said that if cer- 
 tain things were not done they would withdraw." 
 
 " Were these things done? " 
 
 "They were, or at least the grievance was re- 
 moved." 
 
 " Why are we afraid of Mr. Lincoln? " 
 
 " Because he is put in by the antislavery peo- 
 ple." 
 
DULL liUT IMPORTANT. 7 1 
 
 *' Will they destroy slavery? " 
 
 " Thev promise to do so." 
 
 " Will that destroy us? " 
 
 "It will." 
 
 " Can't we keep him out of his seat?" 
 
 '* No; that would not be lawful." 
 
 " Can we secede or withdraw lawfully? " 
 
 *' I think so." 
 
 "Peaceably?" 
 
 " I fear not. 
 
 "Father, are you a citizen of the United 
 States?" 
 
 " No; I am a citizen of Georgia first, and then 
 a citizen of the United States because I am a 
 Georgian." 
 
 "If there should be a war, who must you 
 obey?" 
 
 "My State." 
 
 "Well, I hope there won't be a war; but if it 
 comes, I know who'll whip." 
 
 "Well, who?" 
 
 " The South; that's who." 
 
 " Don't be too certain. But it is not yet certain 
 that we will be forced to these stern measures." 
 
 I should not, however, be a fair historian of 
 these times if I led my young readers to think that 
 the side which Capt. Lawson took was the only 
 
72 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 side that was taken in the South, and that all 
 Southern people saw matters as he did. The 
 fact was far otherwise. There were many excel- 
 lent people in the South who believed, as nearly all 
 the people of the North, that a State had no right 
 to secede, and who looked upon all movements in 
 that direction as treason. They were not lawless, 
 not even abolitionists, and would not have done 
 injustice to any, but they held to this opinion 
 most strongly. 
 
 Old Dr. Prescott, the pastor of Medway, was a 
 Connecticut man. He had been in the South 
 many years, and was a bitter opponent of anti- 
 slavery men or abolitionists. He said that he hon- 
 estly believed the negro was better cared for as a 
 slave than he would be as a freeman, and that 
 neither the Bible nor the Constitution of the Unit- 
 ed States forbade slavery in some form ; and he be- 
 lieved the abolitionist was a foe to the negro's best 
 interest. Like Capt. Lawson, the old doctor was 
 a conservative and voted for John Bell and Ed- 
 ward Everett. He came over to the Captain's a 
 few days after the announcement of Mr. Lincoln's 
 election, and naturally the question of " What 
 now?" came up for discussion. 
 
 "Well, Doctor," said the Captain, "what is 
 the prospect?" 
 
DULL BUT IMPORTANT. 73 
 
 " Gloomy, sir, gloomy," 
 
 ♦'Will South Carolina secede?'* 
 
 "I think she will." 
 
 ** Has she a right to do so? " 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "When did she surrender it?" 
 
 ♦* When she accepted the present Constitution.'* 
 
 "Why, Is not that a compact between the 
 States?" 
 
 " No; it is a union of the people." 
 
 "Well, we will not discuss that point; but if 
 she does secede, can the other States force her 
 back?" 
 
 " I fear they will try." 
 
 "Then what?" 
 
 " Then God pity my poor country! " And the 
 old doctor's lips quivered and the subject was 
 changed. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE WAR DRUM. 
 
 IF my young readers wish to get a true history of 
 i how the war commenced and of how it pro- 
 gressed and of how it ended, and will give a life- 
 time to its study, they may find the facts out, but 
 they cannot get them from this chronicle. It has 
 only to do with what Roger Lawson did in the 
 war, and so this chronicler can tell only a part of 
 the story. 
 
 The States seceded, the war began, troops were 
 callsd for, and the Liberty Troop offered itself to 
 the Governor for service, and was accepted. 
 
 Capt. Lawson, with his servant boy, young Jack, 
 and his son Roger, joined the troop, which ren- 
 dezvoused at Walthourville, and from thence went 
 into camp to be drilled for service. The old 
 Taylor Creek Camp Ground was chosen as the 
 camp of instruction, and the tents made good bar- 
 racks, and the old field near by good parade 
 grounds. The month that was spent in the camp 
 was a month of real jollity. Mrs. Lawson, Helen, 
 
 and Roger came to remain while the troops were 
 (74) 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 75 
 
 there. It had not been Capt. Lawson's intention 
 to take Roger with him to the army; and while 
 Roger was eager to go, he was not willing to ask 
 his parents to permit him to do so, because he 
 thought he ought not to leave his mother. But 
 Mrs. Lawson could not consent for her husband 
 to go without her son, and she insisted that Roger 
 should go, which he did as his father's orderly. 
 
 There had never been a war in the memory of 
 any of the Liberty County people, and all the 
 soldiers they had ever seen had been merely holi- 
 day soldiers. There were perhaps none. North 
 or South, who realized in 1861 what war meant. 
 The horses were fat and well groomed, the uni- 
 forms were new and bright with their gold trap- 
 pings. The shrill fife and drum and the cavalry 
 bugle kept the camp alive. Wives and mothers 
 and sweethearts came to the camp to visit the sol- 
 diers; the tables were spread with abundance of 
 food, and in the balmy air of the Southern spring 
 this life out of doors had a wondrous charm. But 
 this kind of soldier life could not continue long. 
 The first battle of Manassas came on while they 
 Vv^ere in camp, and the Troop was ordered to ren- 
 dezvous at Atlanta, where it was to become a part 
 of the First Battalion of Georgia Cavalry and 
 elect its officers. Then the farewells were sadly 
 
76 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 spoken, and the bugle sounded and the troop be- 
 gan its march. When the battalion was organized 
 in Atlanta Capt. Lawson was elected lieutenant 
 colonel commanding; and then his command was 
 ordered to report at Lynchburg, Va., where it 
 would receive further orders. 
 
 The horses were put in the stock cars, and the 
 men and officers in the freight cars, which were 
 provided with rough seats, and they were conveyed 
 by rail to Lynchburg. This charming city on the 
 upper James was a delightful place for a rendez- 
 vous, and the handsome young fellows who com- 
 posed the battalion had the entree into the elegant 
 society of the old town. And for several weeks 
 while they were awaiting orders there was a round 
 of festivities. But at last orders came to march. 
 Col. Lawson was to report with his battalion to 
 Brig. Gen. Floyd, at Sewell Mountains, W. Va. 
 The brigade was to be transported by rail to 
 Jackson's River, and thence march to Sewell. 
 Roger's own account of his first campaign is, per- 
 haps, as good as anything I can give. It was in a 
 
 letter to Helen: 
 
 Jackson's River, W. Va., September, 1861. 
 
 My Dear Helen : Well, we are here at last, and such a time we 
 
 had to get here. It was jolly at Camp Brown, in Liberty ; but that 
 
 was nothing to Lynchburg. The city is built on the side of a 
 
 steep hill, and when you are on the top of that one there is an- 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 77 
 
 other hill yet. I think that a hogshead of tobacco would roll 
 down a half-mile into the river without slopping if it got started 
 on the hilltop. But such clever people and such pretty girls 
 you never saw. The girls came in crowds to see our dress pa- 
 rades, and we had all our best uniforms out, and were on our 
 best behavior, and we had a grand time. But the order came 
 for us to move on. The gruff old quartermaster, when he saw 
 our big trunks, told us that we had better store them there, for 
 he would not try to get them over the mountains. So we left 
 all our dress uniforms, and took our fatigue suits. 
 
 We had a pleasant enough time in getting to Charlottesville. 
 It is only sixty miles from Lynchburg; but it took us all day to 
 make the trip, and there we had to change to another railroad. 
 Charlottesville is a quaint old town, where the University of 
 Virginia is located. We could see " Monticello," where Mr. Jef- 
 ferson lived, from the town ; but we could not go out to it. We 
 started early in the morning for this place. I did not know till 
 I got fairly started on this journey how little I knew of Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 We were soon in the mountains, and passed through one 
 tunnel a mile long. The scene at Rockfish Gap, just before we 
 entered the tunnel, was the finest I ever saw. I cannot describe 
 it; but I wish you could see it. 
 
 Our train moved very slowl}', and when we reached Staun- 
 ton, a nice little city famous for its schools, we were halted for 
 the night. We got out of the cars, and kindled some camp fires 
 and had some coffee, and spread our blankets on the grass and 
 slept. 
 
 The next day we steamed away again, and it was not long 
 before we were in the wildest country you ever saw. Moun- 
 tains were on all sides of us. The railway crept along their 
 sides, and when we reached Millboro we had to have two en- 
 gines. 
 
78 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 The country has grown wilder and wilder ever since we left 
 Staunton, and at last when we reached here we were simply no- 
 where. We are at the jumping off place, you may be sure. 
 There is nothing here but scenery; but there is plenty of that. 
 I forgot, there is not only scenery, but beef; such beef I never 
 saw before. Great steers, which must w eigh nearly two thou- 
 sand pounds, are here by the hundreds. We are going to leave 
 to-morrow. 
 
 I am as well as I can be, and feel as happy as a boy can who 
 has left his heart behind him, for I must tell you a secret: There 
 was a pretty girl in Lynchburg named Kitty Payne, whom I 
 used to go to see, and I feel mighty like a fellow with a Payne 
 in his heart. 
 
 Give a hundred kisses to mamma, and tell Mom Judy I wish 
 that she could see the biscuits that Jack makes. It would make 
 her jump. We will use them in our light artillery when we get 
 out of balls. Good-bye. Roger. 
 
 Jackson's River, although it seemed a long way 
 from civilization, was after all over fifty miles from 
 the point they were aiming at. Gen. Floyd was at 
 Sewell, and Gen. Rosecrans was in his front, and 
 Gen. R. E. Lee was coming with the troops from 
 Cheat INIountain to bring on an engagement. So 
 there was but little time for waiting, and as soon 
 as the troops were rested they moved forward ; but 
 Roger stopped long enough at the next camp to 
 write to Helen: 
 
 White Sulphur Springs, W. Va., September, 1861. 
 My Dear Helen: We wished to leave early in the morning 
 for a long march, but by the time we got our baggage wagons, 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 
 
 79 
 
 and our horses in proper shape, and our rations cooked papa 
 said that we could not make more than ten miles. He told me 
 that he had dispatches from Gen. Flojd not to push his men, 
 and while he wasted no time to come on without hurry, so we 
 started for Callahan's, w^here we were to camp. 
 
 I reckon jou have heard of roads, but such a road as this 
 turnpike is jou never dreamed of. It has rained, and rained, 
 and rained. The very bottom seems to have dropped out of the 
 roads, and four horses can hardly haul four barrels of flour. 
 Our horses go floundering through mud and mire, and we are 
 spattered with mud from head to foot. 
 
 Covington is a pretty little town at the base of the mountains, 
 with the Jackson River winding all around it; but we had no 
 time to stop, and so over the mountains we pressed to where 
 there is a gap or narrow passage between them. Here there is 
 an old time tavern kept by an old Irishman named Callahan. 
 If 30U remember, Porte Crayon, in Harper, told of this very 
 place. We found a good camp in the meadow, and Jack made 
 us some good coffee and broiled us some nice beef, and we had 
 a good night's rest. 
 
 Some of the Liberty boys grumble about these mountains. 
 You know some of them never saw anything higher than a 
 gopher hill till they left with the troop; but generally they take 
 it all in good humor. We had a long march over the mountains 
 the next day. For five miles we never saw a house, and then 
 for fifteen miles not another. One man, whose name is Sprauls 
 (or Sprawls), lives out here by himself. He makes some corn. 
 The boys say that he plants it by shooting the grains into the 
 side of the mountain with a rifle, for they say it is too steep to 
 plant it any other way. 
 
 Well, you have heard Flora Du Barry talk about the White. 
 It surpasses her power to exaggerate, and you know that it is 
 pretty good. It is the most beautiful spot I ever saw. Sur- 
 
8o THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 rounded by mountains on all sides, witii a great big hotel and a 
 great many cottages, and a lawn that must have been charm- 
 ingly beautiful before it was so neglected. Everything is now 
 out of order, and the hotel and cottages are used for hospitals. 
 There are a great many of our men sick. We have measles, 
 and mumps, and fever; but I am thankful that papa and I 
 keep well. 1 like the army. I don't know how I will like it 
 if we have any fighting. Papa has just got a dispatch from 
 Gen. Floyd, who says he must be at Meadow Bluff to-morrow 
 night. So we will have a long march, and must start early. 
 
 Don't forget to kiss dear old mamma a hundred times for 
 her boy, and tell Mammy howdy. 
 
 Gen. Lee was in charge of the Western Vir- 
 ginia Department, and the Confederacy was at- 
 tempting the foolish task of holding the western 
 part of Virginia to the Southern Confederacy by 
 sending its best troops and most accomplished 
 commanders to that field. Gen. Lee had decided 
 to make a movement by which he hoped to draw 
 the wily Rosecrans into a battle. He had or- 
 dered Gen. Floyd to the summit of Little Sewell 
 Mountain, and he now moved with his troops 
 from Camp Alleghany to join him. Col. Law- 
 son's battalion and a regiment of Georgia infantry 
 were ordered to report to Gen. Floyd. The diffi- 
 culty of supplying these troops so far from the 
 base of supplies was very great, and horses and 
 m.en had scant enough fare. The battalion left 
 the White for the army at early dawn the day 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 8l 
 
 after Roger wrote. They had no breakfast, and 
 made their first halt at Lewisburg. Roger, as 
 soon as he reached Lewisburg, wrote, this time to 
 his mother: 
 
 Lewisburg, W. Va., September lo, 1861. 
 My Dear Mother: I wrote Helen from White Sulphur. 
 Beautiful as the White was, we were glad to leave there. 
 What our horses could not find in the meadows around they 
 had to go without. Poor little Daisy looked so wan and I was 
 so sorry for her that I gave her the bread which Jack gave 
 me for my breakfast. We had a muddy road. We passed out of 
 the valley, and just between the mountains a crystal stream, now 
 full because of the heavy rains, was roaring away on our left, 
 and a high mountain covered with yew trees and white pines 
 and laurels was on the right. There were no settlements till 
 we reached the Greenbrier River. We crossed on a bridge, 
 and then such a climb as we had over the river hills. Our bat- 
 talion could not keep up any order, for the long train of provi- 
 sion wagons was before us, and we had to move like snails. You 
 may imagine we wanted our breakfast before we got it, but after 
 a tiresome march we pitched our cainp on a hill in the village 
 of Lewisburg. This is a little village, which seems to be a 
 very nice place. When we pitched our camp and while we 
 were getting forage for our horses and breakfast for ourselves 
 we had a chance to see some of the girls of the village. If I 
 had not lost my heart in Lynchburg, I think one of these Lew- 
 isburg girls would have captured m.e. Well, we had to wait 
 here for our wagon train till after dinner. A gentleman 
 named Montgomery came to camp and asked to see papa, and 
 told bim that some of the men had been burning his rails. He 
 told papa that he had plenty of wood that was at the service of 
 the troops, and asked him to order the men to use that and not 
 6 
 
82 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 destroy his fences. Papa sent an orderly quick and stopped 
 the men; and then Mr. Montgomery asked us to take dinner 
 witii liim, and we went. He has such a nice liome and such 
 sweet little children. He is a good Presbyterian, too. They 
 say the people in this western part of Virginia are all Union 
 folks, but I don't think they are; all these Lewisburg people 
 are very strong Southerners. Well, we got away at last; and 
 leaving a few sick here, we marched on toward the Meadows. 
 Gen. Lee came down to-day, and I saw him and his staff. He 
 is a very elegant soldier with a gray mustache and no whiskers. 
 He had on a very plain, neat suit of blue and rode a beautiful 
 white horse which he bought here in Lewisburg. Papa came to 
 see him, and he shook hands with him very cordially, as he did 
 with me. His adjutant brought us orders to remain and bring up 
 the rear guard to-morrow. I am having a good time. Don't 
 be worried about me. Papa is quite well. I will write to Helen 
 from our next stopping place, which will be I don't know where; 
 but papa says Meadow Cluff, where Gen. Wise's brigade is. 
 
 Roger had now begun to know some of the 
 hardships of camp life. It was a very different 
 thing from what he had supposed it would be. I 
 am sure from my experience in camp that the one 
 who went a soldiering to have a good time was 
 badly cheated. The cavalry went splashing 
 through the mud in the middle of the turnpike, and 
 the infantry walked through the fields and wher- 
 ever they could find ground dry enough to walk 
 on. Rains fell almost every day, as if the heav- 
 ens were weeping over the fratricidal strife. The 
 men were going they knew not where, and every- 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 83 
 
 thing looked drear}^ The bright-hearted Roger, 
 however, kept up his spirits and the spirits of 
 those around him; and wrote cheerfully to his 
 mother when the weary march ended for a while 
 at Little Sewell: 
 
 Little Sewell, September, 1861, 
 My Precious Mother: Well, we are here at last! When we 
 reached Jackson's River I wrote Helen that we had reached the 
 jumping off place, but we have now jumped clear off. We are 
 in the woods on a mountain with not an inhabited house in — I 
 don't know how far. I did not know there was so wild a spot 
 in all Virginia, and O what a time we had in getting to it. We 
 left ever\-thing that we could leave in Lewisburg, and began 
 our march for this camp. For five miles we had a beautiful 
 country to march through. The hills were covei-ed with blue 
 grass, and on everv farm were fine brick residences. The heavy 
 wagon trains had worn the pike into holes and ruts, and the 
 troops have swept the farms clean of everything like fences, and 
 chickens and ducks I fear have fared badl}', for I am sorry to 
 say the average soldier don't think it a sin to steal a chicken; 
 and as Jack had a little inclination that way before he entered 
 the army, I fear he has not improved. I am afraid the chicken 
 pie he served to-day for dinner did not come from a bought 
 fowl. Andy Rhodes, one of papa's men, from Cherokee, said: 
 " Yes he did kill the ducks, and he intended to kill every 
 duck which tried to bite him." Well, we had a great time sleep- 
 ing out without tents in the rain, but we got along very well. 
 We made a great big fire and stretched a pole over some forks and 
 then put up some rails on that and covered that frame with our 
 oilcloths, and then we laid some rails close together and put 
 some hay on them and then our blankets on that, and laid down, 
 clothes, boots, and all, and slept O how sweetly. 
 
84 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 I have not heard from you since I was at Lynchburg. You 
 asked me if I went to church. O yes, I did; and I went to the 
 Methodist Church because — well, you know Miss Kitty went 
 there, and her father had a pew, and she asked me to go with 
 her; but papa Avent to hear Dr. Hoge, the Presbyterian. No; 
 I have not touched wine or cards or whisky, and I don't intend 
 to. Dont be bothered about us and don't be scared about the 
 battle which we look for every day. If old " Rosey " tries to 
 come up this hill, we are ready for him. Our cavalry are having 
 a right hard time scouting and going on picket, but the infantry 
 say the cavalry are just scaring up the bears for them to fight 
 while they get away; but you know that isn't so. 
 
 Give Helen and Mammy my love. And be sure and write a 
 long letter to me and papa, at Lewisburg. Direct to ms " Lewis- 
 burg Army, West Va., Lawson's Battalion, Georgia Cavalry," 
 and we'll get the letter. 
 
 Affectionately, Roger. 
 
 Col. Lawson added a P. S.: 
 
 Roger has left his letter open for me to finish. You need 
 not fear an engagement. I saw Gen. Floyd to-day, and we to- 
 gether saw Gen. Lee. lie says he does not think that Rose- 
 crans is going to move on us, and he evidently does not expect 
 to move on him; and I see all thiiigs are ready to go back to 
 Camp Alleghany. I am so glad that I brought Roger with 
 me. He makes a fine soldier. lie did not write you about a 
 little incident that touched me very much. As we rode over 
 toward Sewell from Meadow Bluff I noticed a poor infantrv 
 soldier who had fallen out. He was completely exhausted. 
 Roger rode up to where he was, and got off his horse, and 
 helped the poor fellow to mount, and walked beside Daisv till 
 they reached a house by the wayside. He went in and got the 
 people to take the poor fellow in. Roger had walked five miles. 
 
THE WAR DRUM. 85 
 
 We are having rather wet weather; but don't be uneasy about 
 us. 
 
 Roger wrote to Helen two days after: 
 
 Sewell, September, 1861. 
 
 Dear Helen: Well, old *^ Rose y" is gone. We woke up yester- 
 day morning, and found that his white tents were no longer to 
 be seen, and Gen. Floyd ordered papa to send a company as a 
 scouting party to see what had become of him. So papa sent 
 the troop, and of course I went. We went on an old road which 
 used to be here before the turnpike was made, and Avent cau- 
 tiously till we were in full sight of the retreating army. We 
 could see them from the place where we stood, and saw that 
 they had left Big Sewell sure enough. Why, I don't know. 
 There seemed to be a great army of them; but they have 
 vamoosed, and after all our marching and all the mud, we did 
 not fire a gun except at some sheep; but we did fire at them, 
 and killed them too. You see rations run mighty short, and 
 somebody told Capt. Rich that he saw a flock of sheep; and 
 papa asked Gen. Floyd if he might capture them and use them 
 for the men. He told him yes, but told him to be sure and or- 
 der his men not to shoot. They found the sheep, and took 
 after them ; but the sheep were running too fast for them, and 
 Andy Rhodes, the man the ducks were about to bite, could not 
 stand it, so he let loose with his navy, and got a sheep every fire. 
 
 When we heard the shots we supposed that the battle was 
 on, and the men went to the breastworks; but no enemy came. 
 They sent one of the sheep to old Gen. Floyd, and he forgave 
 the shooting; for no one knew who shot, so they said, after the 
 officer began to inquire about it. 
 
 We are still going westward — where, I don't know; and no- 
 body else does but Gen. Floyd. Gen. Lee and his troops have 
 gone back, and we march to-morrow. Roger. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 I MUST not forget Mrs. Lawson and Helen. 
 While Roger was undergoing the hardships of 
 the campaign the good folks at home were not 
 without their cares. It was impossible for them 
 to go to Habersham, and it was not at all safe for 
 them to stay on the plantation during the fall. Capt. 
 Lawson had been called away so suddenly that he 
 had been compelled to leave the selection of a sum- 
 mer home to his wife. Helen was a gentle and very 
 quiet but a very decided person, and she realized 
 that her tender mother was not able to cope with the 
 trials before her. She saw that this question about 
 a home must be settled. So she rode over on her 
 pony to Mr. William Jones, the overseer, to have 
 a consultation. He was at home on the veranda 
 smoking his after dinner pipe when she came in. 
 Putting the pipe aside and hastily drawing on his 
 homespun coat, he met her at the steps, and po- 
 litely placed a chair for her, and waited for her to 
 begin the conversation. 
 
 After meeting the overseer's wife and looking 
 (86) 
 
HELEN. 87 
 
 at the baby, the young mistress of the plantation 
 seated herself and began to open her plans. 
 
 " You know, Mr. Jones, we must get away from 
 here soon, and we cannot go to 'Ivy Bush' this 
 summer, and I've come over to see you about 
 what we are to do." 
 
 "Well, Miss Helen, I've been a considerin' of 
 that myself; but I'm afeared my plans won't ex- 
 actly suit you." 
 
 "Well, what are they?" 
 
 " Well, I don't think this war is gwine to be a 
 short un, and I hain't mighty sure which side is 
 gwine to be on top when it's over, and my erpinion 
 is that the best way to do is to ' take time by the 
 forelock,' as my daddy used to say, and my own 
 idee is to buy a piney woods place away from 
 the coast, and move some of the stock and all of 
 the sheep up thar; and that will be a place whar 
 Mrs. Lawson and you can summer. It may be a 
 leetle lonesome; but I think I can get a place in a 
 good settlement, and you will have good neigh- 
 bors, if they is plain." 
 
 " Mr. Jones, do you know a place like that?" 
 
 " Yes, I think I do. Billy McCord had two lots 
 up near John's, jest ajining, and he's gone to the 
 war, and his wife wants to go over to Tattnall to 
 
88 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Stay with her married darter; and I heard that he 
 wanted to sell out and buy over thar." 
 
 " What do you think the place would cost? " 
 
 "Well, the land hain't fust-class, though when 
 it's trod and well worked it makes good truck; but 
 it's a powerful healthy, and I think Miss McCord 
 will sell cheap. I have heard that she would take 
 $3,000 for the whole thing." 
 
 " Find out, and let us know." 
 
 *' Well, I'll go up to John's to-morrow, and see 
 Miss McCord." 
 
 He went up to the pine woods, and the next 
 evening after tea returned. Helen and Mrs. Law- 
 son had consulted. The plan of the overseer was 
 a good one, and they would adopt it, and when he 
 reported that the place, with a comfortable log 
 house, with shed rooms and kitchen and other out- 
 houses, with one hundred acres under fence and 
 eight hundred in timber, with twenty-five head of 
 cattle and fifty head of sheep, could be bought for 
 $3,000 cash. 
 
 Helen had never had any business transactions 
 with anybody. If she wanted money her father 
 gave it to her, if she wanted dry goods she sent an 
 order to Rogers & Ellis, and they were sent, and 
 so with all she needed ; but now she must arrange 
 for a considerable sum of money and take new re- 
 
HELEN. 89 
 
 sponsibilities. Nothing so develops people as ne- 
 cessity, and the necessity was here. So the car- 
 riasre was ordered, and Helen went with Mr. 
 Jones to the railroad, and thence to Savannah, 
 where she saw Mr. Harris. He fully agreed with 
 her about the propriety of the purchase, and as 
 there was still a balance of the money borrowed to 
 Capt. Lawson's credit, and as Helen's mother was 
 authorized to use it, the pine woods plantation 
 was bought, and the family had their summer home 
 fixed there. 
 
 Mr. William Jones, the overseer, remained at the 
 rice plantations the larger part of the time, night 
 and day. In the summer he removed his family 
 to his old place, near his brother's, so he was en- 
 abled to watch over both plantations. 
 
 Uncle Jack was the real supervisor of "Pine 
 Grove" under Helen's direction. The sheep had 
 been sheared, and the wool had been shipped, as 
 usual, to the Roswell Woolen Mills to be made 
 into kerseys; but Uncle Jack said: " Miss Helen, 
 why for you no git some cards, so dese lazy nig- 
 gers can card dey own wool for to make dey close, 
 an' not send 'em so fur away? " 
 
 " Well, that is a good idea. Uncle Jack, and I'll 
 send to Savannah for a box of wool cards, and 
 some for cotton, too." 
 
90 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 So the cards were sent for, and Mrs. Jones had 
 a half-dozen looms put up, and the women taught 
 how to spin and weave. 
 
 Mrs. Lawson found Helen a thoughtful helper 
 at all times, and although the girl tenderly loved 
 her father and brother and could not but feel their 
 absence, she saw that the best way to show her 
 love for them was not by complaining at their ab- 
 sence, but by caring for the things in which they 
 were concerned. 
 
 At first there v/as no want of anything; but the 
 thoughtful Helen saw that with the ports all closed, 
 and with the unusual demand that the war made 
 for manufactured articles, there must soon come 
 scarcity, and so she began at once to provide 
 against it. She agreed with her manajjer that to 
 live at home and buy but little was the only true 
 course, and that it was wise to get now such things 
 as she might need hereafter. So she laid in full 
 supplies of all the heavy groceries still in the 
 markets. 
 
 She found time, in the midst of all her labors, to 
 give the mail boy, who called every three days at 
 " Pine Lodge " on his way to the railway from 
 Riceboro, something for those away. When Roger 
 was at Sewell he received this long letter from 
 her: 
 
HELEN. 91 
 
 "Pine Lodge," September 15, 1S61. 
 
 My Dear Roger: We received your letter from Lynchburg 
 just before you left, and also yours from Jackson's River. Since 
 then we have heard nothing; and as you were at the jumping 
 off place, we do not know but that you have jumped. 
 
 We were very sorry to hear of your attack of heart disease. 
 I am afraid you don't really want to get the Payne out of your 
 heart. I can't say so much for her. She has doubtless forgot- 
 ten the young Georgia cracker by this time, and has taken a 
 young officer under her pious care. 
 
 Well, we are here. What do you think of my going into 
 the land market.^ Papa suggested to mamma to get a country 
 home at Walthourville; but every house in the village was 
 taken, and we had no tim.e to build. We could not go up the 
 country, and so mamma and I concluded to come here. We 
 found that we could buy the place, but could not rent it, and as 
 Mr. Jones thought it would be a good trade, and as Mr. Harris 
 said that he could manage about the money, we bought it. We 
 moved up over a month ago. We did not care to getaway from 
 " Lawson Place " till we were obliged to, and you know that it 
 is not safe to remain there later than the ist of August. 
 
 I have got to be a regular manager. Old Uncle Jack is my 
 factotum. We bought all of Mrs. McCord's chickens, ducks, and 
 geese, and I have become quite a poultry raiser. Then I have 
 taken some lessons in weaving and spinning, not doing it my- 
 self, but learning how it ought to be done. 
 
 Poor mamma is doing her best to keep up and be cheerful as 
 possible, and I feel like I must take all the care from her that I 
 can. 
 
 You asked about company. Mr. Jones's daughter Nancy 
 stays with us. She is very neat and good-natured, and is a 
 pleasant companion. We are only half a mile from Serg. Jones, 
 and his people, or some of them, are over here every day. We 
 
92 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 have the Methodist Church in a mile from us, and a Sunday 
 school which I attend, and the Varnadoes live not very far off, 
 and come over and spend a day with us now and then, and 
 sometimes we go over there. Then we have the weekly Rich- 
 mond and Savannah papers, and I am reading old books and old 
 magazines. Write us every time you get a chance, and tell us 
 everything. 
 
 Affectionately your sister, Helen. 
 
 Roger's mother added to Helen's letter. 
 
 p. S. — Helen has written you a long letter, and I will just 
 add a line. O my dear boy, what a precious girl she is! She 
 knows how much I miss you, and she seems anxious to take all 
 care from me and do all my thinking. She found no Sunday 
 school here, but though she is so timid, she began one, and 
 now she has at least forty little children, who meet her every 
 Sunday. She leads the music, reads the Bible, directs the school, 
 and with the help of the old class leader, Mr. Andrews, they 
 say she manages the school splendidly. The people about 
 here like her so much, and are so kind to us all. Be a good 
 boy as you have always been. God keep you safely. Take 
 good care of my dear Roger. 
 
 Your affectionate Mother. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GAINING EXPERIENCE. 
 
 The King of France with forty thousand men 
 Marched up tlie hill and then marched down again. 
 
 f SUPPOSE that if the authorities in Montgomery 
 or Washington had known what would have re- 
 sulted the " Star of the West" would never have 
 tried to reach Fort Sumter ; and if she had, the Con- 
 federate battery on the island would never have fired 
 on the old flag ; and I'm sure that if the Federal and 
 Confederate authorities had been wise the cam- 
 paign in Western Virginia would never have been 
 undertaken, for a more useless and costly cam- 
 paign on both sides was never conducted. The 
 government at Richmond believed it of vital im- 
 portance that West Virginia should be held. 
 They did not know enough of its geography to 
 know that it would hold itself. So when Gen. 
 Lee, who saw the folly of any further advance to- 
 ward the Ohio, or of any further effort to hold 
 these wild hills against an invader who had no use 
 for them, had gone back to Camp Alleghany, and 
 thence to Richmond, the stout old Gen. Floyd 
 was left alone. Who planned the campaign which 
 
 (93) 
 
94 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 like to have ended at Cotton Hill in the capture 
 of the brigade I never knew, but somebody had 
 some ideas that did not materialize. The sup- 
 plies that were needed for the army at Sewell 
 had to be hauled sixty miles over wretched roads, 
 and all the teams which had been taken from the 
 farms were not sufficient to bring the food needed 
 for the army. To march down the pike after 
 Rosecrans was not wise, and so it was decided to 
 move on his flank and get behind him. I suppose 
 our general commanding expected somebody to 
 move down the turnpike on the enemy's front 
 while he crossed the Kanawha, and strike him in 
 the rear — a very good plan if it could have been 
 carried out. The army never knew where we were 
 going, but we retraced our steps to Meadow Bluff 
 and thence to New River and over it, or rather 
 through it, we went into Raleigh, and then through 
 Fayette Count}^ to Miller's Ferry and Cotton Hill, 
 and from there Roger wrote to Helen: 
 
 Cotton Hill, Fayette County, Va., September i, 1861. 
 
 Dear Helen: We are here at last. I thought we were out of 
 the world when we got to Sewell, but now we are away on the 
 other side. We struck our camp at Sewell and moved back to 
 the Meadows, and then the army turned toward the New River. 
 The pioneers had gone ahead to make the road passable, and 
 we managed to get along, but it was with great difficulty. Such 
 a wild country I never supposed was in Virginia. There was a 
 
GAINING EXPERIENCE. 95 
 
 squad of us youngsters who concluded to strike across the 
 country by a neighborhood road from our New River camp. 
 Just before night we came to the stock farm of an old Virginia 
 gentlemen. Just to think of finding out here in these wild hills 
 and meadows one of the most delightful and elegant families 
 you ever saw. The girls are highly educated, and in the strag- 
 gling house of a half-dozen single-story i-ooms was a fine piano, 
 and the first music except that of the fife and bugle I have heard 
 since we left Lynchburg we had the night I was there. And 
 what a nice supper we had. I was sorry to leave them the next 
 morning, but we had to go. Our camp was on the east side of 
 New River, in a beautiful little valley, where there was a sulphur 
 spring. They have the white sulphur, the blue sulphur, the red 
 sulphur, the salt sulphur, the black sulphur, and this is the green 
 sulphur. You know an army has much more to do than to march 
 and fight. There are roads to make, provisions to haul, and the 
 sick to provide for, and just now we have our share of sick folks 
 you may be sure. Where have all these soldiers been raised, that 
 they have never had the measles and mumps and other diseases 
 which every well-bred boy ought to have before he is twelve 
 years old.'' but right out here in the woods, where there are 
 few doctors and no medicine, to be getting sick is too bad. 
 Our chaplain and the surgeons have their hands full. We had 
 to swim the river on our horses. In we went and over we went. 
 Daisy swam beautifully. Then we were in the woods sure 
 enough, and we are not out of them yet. We passed through 
 two small villages and came out into a very nice settlement 
 where there were some right neat homes, and before I knew 
 where we were I found we were in a skirmish. The yankees 
 were on the other side of the river, at the " Hawk's Nest," as it 
 is called, and were picketing the river banks when our advance 
 came in sight of them. There was a good deal of shooting at 
 long range between their sharpshooters and ours. I fired my 
 
96 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 first gun, but I don't think I hit the jank, because I saw him 
 run; and as I was Ijing behind a log, I don't think I was in 
 much danger. 
 
 Well, we are living high, if to be high up in the air can be 
 called so, but otherwise our fare is but middling. Jack is thor- 
 oughly " disencouraged," he says. "Dis here country, Mass 
 Roger," he sadly remarked last night, " nebber was made for a 
 decent man to lib in. De idee dat Capt. Roger Lawson should 
 hab to eat de kin' of flour dey gib us, an' hab nothin' but black 
 sorghum sirup; and I hab to make him biskuts with no lard, no 
 soda, no buttermilk, no nothin'. I wish dem yanks would stay 
 at home or leave here, and let us git back to Liberty." 
 
 Our flour is made by grinding wheat in a corn mill; and as it 
 is not bolted, it is not pearly white. We are simply watching 
 the yanks and wailing. It has been raining a great deal, and 
 roads are bad; and as we are a hundred miles from our nearest 
 railroad station, you may not wonder that we are somewhat anx- 
 ious to know what is next. I hardly think old " Rosey " will 
 try to cross the rivers (for we are in the bend where the New 
 and Gauley make the Kanawha). The other day I went with 
 papa and a party of explorers to the mouth of Ivoop Creek, on 
 the Kanawha. This put us several miles behind the j'ankee 
 camp. I think maybe Gen. Floyd thinks of crossing there, but 
 I am a little afraid the Yank's may cross first and come up be- 
 hind us. You never saw as wild a country as this. There are 
 nothing but hills, hills covered with grass and apple trees, with 
 now and then a tobacco field. 
 
 I will write you soon again. Roger. 
 
 The camp was so located that the crossing of 
 the New River by one detachment and the cross- 
 ing of the Kanawha by another would completely 
 cut off the whole brigade and capture it, for there 
 
GAINING EXPERIENCE. 97 
 
 was but one way of escape, southward down a 
 narrow country road. 
 
 When Gen. Floyd found that neither Gen. Lee 
 nor any one else came down the pike he saw that his 
 campaign must be a failure and was now reluctantly 
 getting ready to return to the railroad, to be nearer 
 his supplies. 
 
 He had made his decision to do this none too 
 soon, for the trap he had set for the Federals, they 
 sprang on him. While Floyd was anxiously wait- 
 ing for the move on Rosecrans, ' ' Rosey ' ' moved on 
 Floyd. Two detachments of the Federal army 
 crossed the river — one the New River, at Bowyer's 
 Ferry; one the Kanawha, at Loop Creek — and 
 each aimed to join their forces behind Floyd. 
 They expected to bag the game easily, but the old 
 general was too quick for them, and when they 
 drew the mouth of the net together the birds had 
 flown. Roger, however, wrote Helen a letter 
 which tells the story better than I can; 
 
 Camp Misery, Raleigh Co., Va., Nov., 1862. 
 My Dear Helen : If old " Rosey " had been a little quicker in his 
 movements, I don't think you would have had a letter from 
 this place, which, as you see, I call Camp Misery — why, you 
 will see as I write on. I must claim, however, the credit for 
 the name, and I don't think the old general would let me go 
 without a court-martial if he found I called it so disrespectfully. 
 You know I told you that I was afraid the yanks would cross 
 7 
 
q8 the LOY in tJRAV. 
 
 below us, and so they did. Late one afternoon an orderly came 
 for papa to come to headquarters. As 1 am acting as his or- 
 derly, I went with him. The old general sat there as quiet and 
 as grim as ever. He said very calmly to papa, as if he did not 
 know anything: " Colonel, you had best order in your jjickets 
 and have your wagons packed. 1 have decided to take a bettor 
 position, nearer our base of supplies. Sec to it that all is done 
 quietly and carefully." Just then a citizen came galloping up, 
 and asked for the general. He seemed greatly excited. "The 
 yankees are marching up the road from Loop Creek, two 
 thousand strong," he said; "J saw them cross, and came in a 
 gallop across the hills to let you know." The old general smiled, 
 a quiet smile, and said very kindly and calmly: "All right. 
 Squire; we are ready for them; Ihey are doing just what I 
 hoped they would do." Then while he was here another citi- 
 zen came at full speed, and said: "General, Ihem yanks has 
 been a crossing all night at Bowyer's Ferry, and are marching 
 this way." "That's all right, Mr. Hughes," said the general; 
 "they will fall into the trap that I have set for them; don't you 
 be alarmed." I don't know that the old general told the truth; 
 and between 3'ou and me I don't think he did; but he looked 
 very much like he was saying what he thought was so. Well, 
 we did not wait long. The wagons were loaded, the pickets 
 from down at the ferry came galloping in, and the infantry was 
 put in inarching condition. We were to keep in the rear. The 
 tents could not be carried, and some of the least valuable stores 
 were put in front of them to be burned. The tents were left 
 standing and fires built in front of them, and oin* battalion was 
 distributed among them, so that it 'vould look as if the army 
 was here still; and as soon as it was dark the army began its 
 "advance backward," as Jack says. The wagons had gone 
 ahead, and the artillery bad taken its position near the only road, 
 which came from the south, to the pocket in which we were. 
 
GAINING EXPERIENCE. 99 
 
 After the infantry were off, we and Col. McCausland's battalion 
 came up behind. We fully expected to have a brush with the 
 yanks at the road ; but we passed it and were safe out of the 
 trap by midnight. One of them, whom we captured, said that 
 Gen. Benham had halted his troops just a mile from this road 
 we crossed. Had our boys known that the yanks were only a 
 mile from where they were, and that we would all have been 
 captured or cut to pieces if we had remained till morning, I 
 think they would have grumbled less at this all-night march. 
 
 Early in the morning Col. Craghan, who had charge of the 
 Kentucky Dragoons, rode by us down the Loop Creek road. In 
 a little while we heard firing, and the Dragoons came galloping 
 back without their leader, who was killed. They were followed 
 by a troop of yankee cavalry ; but our men opened fire on them 
 with their carbines, and they were checked, and when the two 
 guns of our artillery sent their shells whizzing down the road 
 they fell back to their infantry. We fully expected a battle, and 
 the army was in line ; but strangely enough they did not advance, 
 and we continued our retreat. The old general and his staff 
 remained in the rear. The sick were in front; then came the 
 wagon train, and then the infantry and light artillery, and the 
 cavalry came last. 
 
 I had been all night in the saddle. So when the army halted 
 as it did, and formed in line, as I wrote you, ready to give bat- 
 tle, we were ordered to dismount and fight on foot. Poor Daisy 
 had no breakfast, and poor master had a piece of Graham hoe- 
 cake for his. We remained here all day fasting, and late in 
 the afternoon, when our pickets reported that Gen. Benham had 
 gone back and there was no enemy in sight, our infantry began 
 its march again. W^e came marching last, only followed by the 
 pioneers, who blocked up the road by cutting down gi-eat trees 
 across it. At last we were ordered into camp. The wagon train 
 could go no farther, for it was as dark as Egypt. We were at the 
 
lOO THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 foot of an immense hill, and there was not level ground enough 
 to spread a blanket. We went up the hill — Lieut. Bacon, Serg. 
 Jones, papa, and I — and found a place to sleep. Jack came to our 
 help, and we made a hasty shelter. It was made of small sap- 
 lings and brush, over which we spread our oilcloths, and was 
 so fixed that one fork held all up. I was so tired and worn-out 
 and sleepj that I could hardly wait for Jack to broil some beef 
 and make some coffee, and then I threw myself under this shel- 
 ter on my blanket, and was soon asleep. It so happened that I 
 was near the supporting fork, and in the night I dreamed that a 
 tree was falling on us, and crying out, "A tree is falling! a tree 
 is falling!" I caught hold of and jerked down the fork, and 
 the whole thing fell. They all scrambled out from the bushes, 
 and just then such a rain fell as you never saw; but we built a 
 huge log fire, dried our clothes, and sat by it till morning. 
 
 Such roads! such roads! I saw a mudhole so deep that a 
 man on a horse would have been swallowed up in it; but we 
 pressed on, and just at dark we reached this camp. It is by the 
 side of a wild mountain brook, and the mountains are on every 
 side. We built large fires, cooked our rations, and laid down 
 under what " flys " we had, and the next morning woke to find 
 our blankets and tent flys covered with snow. 
 
 Some one is going to Dublin, on the railroad, to-day ; and as 
 I have a chance to send you this letter, I will wait no longer. 
 How long we are going to stay here I cannot say, but I heard 
 Gen. Wharton tell papa that it was likely that we would go back 
 to the railroad at once, and that some of us would go to South 
 Carolina and some to Kentucky. Tell mamma that we are all 
 right, and that I have »een a great sight of things to tell her 
 about. Tell old Jack that young Jack says if " Mass Roger 
 ever gits back to Libbaty and brings him back, he never wants 
 to see nothin' higher dan a Salamander hill agin." He says 
 "he's seed mountings nuff to last him a lifetime." Roger. 
 
GAINING EXPERIENCE. lOI 
 
 The old general reluctantly gave up his cher- 
 ished plan. He would gladly have v/intered in 
 this wild section, and have been ready to move 
 down on the Kanawha Valley, resting only on the 
 banks of the Ohio, but the tide was against him, 
 and orders came from headquarters for Floyd's 
 Brigade to report to Gen. Buckner at Fort Donel- 
 son, in Kentucky, and for Lawson's BattaHon of 
 Georgia cavalry to report to Gen. Drayton at Har- 
 deeville, S. C. Before these orders came the 
 men had been paid off and they were anxious 
 to send their money to their families, and as they 
 had great confidence in Roger they asked that 
 his father would permit him to take this money 
 to them. As Roger was not needed specially, and 
 as Gen. Floyd had no objection to giving him a 
 furlough, he was permitted to go to Georgia, and 
 he started. His letter from Wytheville wall tell of 
 how narrow an escape he made from an unlooked- 
 for danger: 
 
 Wytheville, November 15, 1861. 
 
 Dear Helen: I am here waiting for the train to take me to 
 Georgia, and I will write you a line. The men of the battalion 
 were paid their money at Camp Misery, and as there Avas no 
 way to get it to their families but by hand, they asked papa if 
 I might not take it for them. Papa hesitated, for bringing 
 $5,000 so far among so many dangers is not a pleasant thing; 
 but they told him they could trust me, and that their families 
 needed the money and there was no other way to get it to them 
 
102 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 and so papa went to see Gen. Flojd and he told him that if he 
 thought it best he would give me a furlough, and so I got my 
 furlough. There was $5,000 in Charleston bank bills. Serg. 
 Jones had a money belt which he loaned me, and I packed the 
 money in it and bade good-bye to Camp Misery, and started out 
 on my journey a few hours before dark. I was alone, but I 
 joined a Virginia cavalryman who knew the country, and we 
 rode about sunset some two or three miles off of the road to get a 
 place to stay all night. We found a good place, where I had 
 the first square meal I've had in a long time. The old fellow 
 had buckwheat cakes and rye coffee, sweetened with maple su- 
 gar — they call it tree sugar up here. He had some beef ribs 
 stewed and the nicest butter and milk. He was as clever as he 
 could be, and his old wife was as motherly as mamma. I slept 
 gloriously, and after a good breakfast next morning I rode with 
 my friend back to the main road. Here he parted from me, as 
 he was going back to camp, and I rode on alone. It was a 
 pretty dreary ride, the ground was frozen, the air was keen, and 
 the heavy forests were covered with sleet and ice. I was pull- 
 ing away when I heard some one coming as fast as the bad 
 roads would permit, when who should it be but Serg. Jones.'' He 
 had his carbine and two navy pistols. When he saw me he 
 halloed at me; and when he came up he said: "Well, my boy, 
 I never was as glad to see any one in my life. I was afraid that 
 I would never see you any more." 
 
 " How now. Sergeant.' " I said. " Did you think I'd run away 
 with your money .-* " 
 
 " No; but last night Carson, from the Rifles, deserted and took 
 his gun with him and followed your trail. Where have you been .'' " 
 
 " I went with Corporal Brent to old Squire Tuckweld's." 
 
 "Well, thank God! That may have saved your life. The 
 Colonel sent me posthaste after you, and said that I was to go 
 with you to Princeton. The General said that you must not go 
 
GAINING EXPliRIENCE. I03 
 
 as you intended, by Pack's Ferry to Dublin, but go to Prince- 
 ton, and thence to VVytheville. " Here, Jenkins," the Sergeant 
 said to his attendant, " ride back to camp and tell them that 
 Roger is all right." 
 
 We got to Princeton, a little village hidden away in the 
 mountains, and at night found quarters not far from it, and then 
 began our journey over the Alleghanies to Wytheville. I 
 thought that I had been in the mountains before, but now, as I 
 started to go across them, I found what it meant to be in the 
 wild Alleghanies sure enough. 
 
 The Sergeant, who was to join the battalion at Dublin, was 
 with me, so it was not so lonely as it would have been other- 
 wise, and O the scenery was so gi-and! Ten thousand times 
 ten thousand icicles hung from the green pines, and the sun- 
 beams flashed from tree to tree, from mountain top to mountain 
 top. We found comfortable quarters on the banks of Wolf 
 Creek, at a farmer's home, and the next day about noon we 
 came out into a cove in the mountain, and O what a lovely 
 sight this little valley, with its beautiful brick house, was! W^e 
 went to the gate, and they cheerfully took us in. The cove was 
 called Crockett's Cove, and old Mr. Crockett lived in it. He 
 has such a sweet wife, and O such charming daughters! You 
 have no idea how good these Virginia farmers and their families 
 are. They were just as kind to me as if I were their son, and 
 although I was with them but a little while they seem as though 
 they had known me all my life. You may know the Sergeant 
 and I had a good time. We did not go on to Wytheville till the 
 next day, and while I was waiting for the train the Sergeant, 
 leading Daisy, went up toward Dublin, which is about forty 
 miles from here. Here he expects to meet the battalion. I am 
 coming home for a few days while the battalion is getting to 
 its new field at Hardeeville, so you need not be surprised to see 
 me at any time. Roger. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A WEEK AT HOME. 
 
 T^OGER was impatient to get home; but al- 
 Mm^ though he was not delayed on the railroad, he 
 had a half-dozen places at which to stop, and a 
 number of people to see before he could hope to 
 reach Savannah ; but he did his duty faithfully, and 
 saw the money which had so nearly cost him his 
 life safe in the hands of those to whom it was sent. 
 
 Carson was last seen in a mountain gorge on 
 New River. He had evidently intended to meet 
 his unsuspecting young comrade, and, deluding 
 him with a plausible tale, when he had reached an 
 obscure spot he designed to murder him, secure 
 the money, and escape. 
 
 At last all the parcels except those intended for 
 the members of the Liberty Troop had been dis- 
 posed of, and Roger left Savannah on the Atlantic 
 and Gulf road for Fleming. No one knew when he 
 was coming, and no one came to meet him. As 
 he left the train he met the good-natured old agent, 
 Mr. Clark, and inquired about a conveyance. 
 
 "Well, Capt. Roger," he said, "there hain't 
 (104) 
 
A WEEK AT HOME. IO5 
 
 a sign of a critter on my place 'ceptin' old Beck. 
 She is about thirty-five year old and is mighty true, 
 but she's powerful slow. She'll take you thar if 
 you give her time, but I tell you now she ain't a 
 gwine to be pushed, but she is a heap better than 
 walkin', and I'll have her brought out." 
 
 Beck was a well-kept and very unpretending 
 mule. Her long ears hung listlessly down, and 
 her head was bent very humbly to the earth. Rog- 
 er mounted, and Beck moved as she did in the 
 plow, and had done for a score of years, with 
 steady step and slow. Roger urged her forward 
 with earnest words, but she heeded not. He 
 struck her with the switch which he had in his 
 hand, but it made no impression on her sensibili- 
 ties; and at last, when all else had failed, the eager 
 boy struck his sharp spur in old Beck's side. She 
 winced, then stopped, and turned her head back 
 with a look of blank amazement, and then moved 
 forward, but she never changed her gait. " Well, 
 old lady," said Roger, "you must go as you 
 please, so as I can't get you to go my gait I'll go 
 yours." It was a weary ride, but it ended at last. 
 It was nightfall when old Beck stopped at the gate. 
 Leaping from her back, the boy rushed into the 
 house and threw himself into his mother's arms. 
 She did not know when he was coming, but she 
 
I06 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 looked for him every hour, and was watching for 
 him when he came. Helen was next, and then 
 the negroes all crowded around him. He had 
 been gone but a few months, but it seemed to 
 those who loved him that it had been years. His 
 mother's pale face told what she had been suffer- 
 ing, and Helen was transformed into a real matron. 
 Old Uncle Jack, of course, came to ask after 
 young Jack, his hopeful son. " Yes, Uncle Jack, 
 said Roger, "Jack has become quite a soldier. He 
 likes soldiering, all but the marching and the fight- 
 ing. He was in camp one day and a yankee bat- 
 tery began to shell us, and when the shell came 
 whistling into the camp I looked for Jack, but he 
 was gone. He came back after the gun quit fir- 
 ing, and I asked where he had been. 'Lor', 
 Mars Roger,' he said, ' dat ting come right at 
 me. It nebber tried to ketch nobody but me, and 
 when I seed it a coming I heard it say, " Run, nig- 
 ger, run ! " and I runned, I did. I ain't afeard of 
 no yankees, but I cain't bar to have a whole can- 
 non just shootin' at me. I tell you I cain't.' He 
 told me to give you a heap of howdy, and say that 
 if he can get a furlough he will come home Christ- 
 mas." 
 
 Roger sat by his mother's side, with her hand 
 in his, like a lover. He would stroke her hair and 
 
A WEEK AT HOME. IO7 
 
 kiss her fair brow as he did when a child. That 
 was one reason I loved the boy. He knew his 
 mother's worth, and loved her so tenderly. 
 
 John Jones, the oldest son of the Sergeant, stayed 
 at " Pine Lodge " at night, andtook a kind of over- 
 sight of the place, giving Helen such help in di- 
 recting things as she needed. As for managing 
 the hands. Uncle Jack did that better than any 
 other one could; the only trouble with him was 
 that he was too hard on them. 
 
 John was a devoted Methodist. He had been 
 raised in a family where they had prayer night and 
 morning, and when he came to spend the night at 
 Mr. Lawson's he was not reluctant to keep up 
 there the custom he had always followed at home. 
 So they had family worship, which he conducted. 
 The negroes came in; the Bible was read; the 
 hymn was carefully lined and earnestly sung; and 
 John prayed, if not learnedly, yet fervently. After 
 he had prayed God to take care of the father and 
 the son in the army, and now when the boy was at 
 home again, his voice faltered as he thanked God 
 for his safe return. He prayed very earnestly that 
 as Roger's life had been spared it should be de- 
 voted to God's service. 
 
 Roger went over the next day to see the Ser- 
 geant's family, and to carry them the money that 
 
I08 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 the Sergeant had sent to them, as well as the let- 
 ter that he had written. The days went too rap- 
 idly by. He saw the families of the troopers, and 
 gave them the tidings from their loved ones. 
 
 On Sunday at old Taylor's Creek meetinghouse 
 Dr. Farmer was to preach the funeral of a young 
 Stovall, who was killed at the first battle of Manas- 
 sas. The Doctor was once a traveling preacher, 
 then he located and studied medicine, and for 
 many years he had been a physician and a plant- 
 er. George Stovall he had known from his 
 childhood. He had baptized him, he had received 
 him into the Church, and when his body was 
 brought home he had read the funeral service 
 over his grave. In those days the funeral ser- 
 mon was often preached months after the sub- 
 ject was dead. There was a great crowd of peo- 
 ple, and a great many of them were young peo- 
 ple. The Doctor took advantage of the occasion 
 to preach a very earnest sermon to young people. 
 He showed them that religion was suited to them ; 
 that its very restraints were the sources of truest 
 happiness; that there was no time in life in which 
 religion could be more enjoyed than in youth, and 
 at no time was piety more practicable. He warned 
 them against the danger of delay. He spoke of 
 young Stovall as one who had never given his fa- 
 
A WEEK AT HOME. IO9 
 
 ther's heart a single pang, of how beautifully he 
 lived, and of how grandly he died. 
 
 There was much feeling among his hearers. 
 Many came and gave him their hand, in token of 
 a determination to take Jesus as their Saviour, and, 
 to his mother's great joy, among them was Roger. 
 The " Church door" (as the Methodists call the 
 opportunity for candidates to present themselves 
 for union with the Church) was opened, and Roger 
 went forward. 
 
 His Presbyterian mother looked on with a blank 
 amazement, and yet her face was lit with joy. 
 When they came home, she said: "Well, my 
 son, I am so glad that you joined the Church. I 
 have often prayed God to make you a Christian, 
 but I never prayed him to make you a Methodist." 
 Perhaps Mrs. Lawson remembered that this was 
 somewhat the same thing Mr. Spurgeon's mother 
 told him. 
 
 It had been no sudden impulse, for Roger had 
 intended to unite with the Church and give his 
 life to God's service for some time, and he was not 
 willincr to wait. He knew that the certificate of 
 the Methodist Church would take him into the 
 Presbyterian, which he thought it likely he would 
 join when he went back to Medway. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CAMPAIGNING ON THE COAST. 
 
 M) OGER had been at home only a few days when 
 ^\ a letter from his father written from Dublin, 
 Va., brought the news that the battalion was to re- 
 port to Gen. Drayton at Hardeeville, S. C. He 
 wrote Roger to join it there in about ten days. 
 
 The days sped with rapid pace, and were soon 
 gone. Roger went by railway, and found the bat- 
 talion in a temporary camp on the sand hills be- 
 yond the Savannah River, where the little village 
 of Hardeeville was located. They were, however, 
 to remain here only a few days, and were to camp 
 at Bluffton, fifteen miles below on the seacoast. 
 
 The part of South Carolina where their camp 
 was located was the oldest portion of the State. 
 Near the camp was May River, on which the first 
 settlements in the State had been made by the 
 French three hundred years before, and here the 
 English settlers had established themselves perma- 
 nently two hundred years before. 
 
 The islands on the coast had been famous for 
 
 producing the most beautiful long staple cotton, 
 
 (110) 
 
CAMPAIGNING ON THE COAST. Ill 
 
 and the rice plantations on the main were on all the 
 rivers where the water was fresh. There had been 
 a very large number of negroes on the plantations. 
 For generations these people on the coast and the 
 sea islands had lived in great luxury. The sea 
 gave them the best fish and finest oysters. The 
 marsh grass and the wire grass of the pine woods 
 furnished them pasturage for their cattle, and the 
 rice and corn produced on every plantation fur- 
 nished them breadstuff. When the Federal navy 
 svi^ept down on Port Royal and captured it, the 
 people along this coast were seized with a panic, 
 and gathering up their slaves, and leaving behind 
 all their property which could not be moved, they 
 flied to the interior of Georgia and South Carolina. 
 They had their residences in a few pleasant settle- 
 ments, where they could have the advantage of 
 churches and schools and health. Among the lit- 
 tle hamlets which served for a summer home was 
 Bluffton, immediately on May River. It was a 
 beautiful little village among the live oaks and 
 pines. The steamers came triweekly to the wharf 
 on their way from Charleston to Savannah, and 
 thus brought the planters into close contact with 
 the outer world. The little Episcopal and Meth- 
 odist Churches furnished the inhabitants with re- 
 ligious services. Here, in an easy, quiet, inoffen- 
 
112 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 sive way the planters lived ; but when Port Royal 
 fell they abandoned everything, and fled, and when 
 Roger came to the camp he found the soldiers in 
 beautiful homes, some furnished still with good 
 furniture, which had been deserted by their panic- 
 stricken owners. Libraries of books, mahogany 
 chairs, bureaus, and sofas were left for the ac- 
 commodation of the troops. The Colonel quar- 
 tered them in the vacated houses, and they began 
 a season of camping out which was specially de- 
 lightful. 
 
 Roger had now taken his part in all the hard 
 work of the common trooper. How he engaged his 
 time, and some of his adventures, he can best tell 
 himself: 
 
 Blufftox, S. C, December, 1861. 
 
 Dear Helen: If our camp in West Virginia Avas Camp Misery, 
 this ought to be called Camp Paradise. You have no idea of 
 the change. The rich people that used to live here took fright 
 when Beaufort and Port Royal fell, and fled to the upcountry. 
 They left nearly everything behind them, and now, instead of 
 being out in the cold on the mountains unsheltered, behold me 
 in a lady's boudoir. The mahogany bureau stands as she left 
 it. The bedstead and washstand are both here. The village 
 was a deserted village sure enough, not a living being left in it 
 when we came. Since then some few have come back, but not 
 to stay. 
 
 Bluffton is what its name would lead you to suppose it was 
 It is a bluff on the river, v.ith a wide stretch of pine lands back 
 of it. How beautiful the river is here, and how beautiful and 
 
CAMPAIGNING ON THE COAST. I r3 
 
 how charming are the islands which dot it, I cannot tell jou. 
 We are here to picket the coast, and see that the yanks don't 
 cross over and cut the railroad between Savannah and Charles- 
 ton. Bluffton is a good place to picket from. We lead the most 
 luxurious lives. Lieut. Bacon has his dog and shotgun with him, 
 and as he rides around to see after the posts he carries his gun, 
 and brings back partridges every day. Serg. Jones is a good 
 fisherman, and such sheephead and trout as we do have! We 
 have to drill every day — that is, those who' are not on picket 
 duty — but when the drill is over we have nothing to do, so we 
 get out the boats and go rowing and fishing. Such fun we do 
 have! The kinds of fish that I have seen and caught I could 
 hardly count. The sting ray is an awful fellow, with his diabol- 
 ical look and long tail and awful barb, which he wears just 
 coming out of his back. This barb he sends into his victim, and 
 it holds him like a fishhook. The other day I caught a shark 
 two feet long, and carelessly put my fingers into his mouth to 
 pull out my hook, and he caught me! I was caught for sure; 
 but the Sergeant came to my rescue, and prized the shark's jaws 
 open. He had bitten through my finger nail. 
 
 I have had to take my time standing picket. There are four 
 of us on each post; but it is awfully lonesome to stand on the 
 river shore, and watch for two hours before you are relieved. 
 We are looking for the gunboats every day, but they do not 
 come. 
 
 You remember when we were at Catherine's Island to have 
 seen a school of porpoises. You know what a noise they make 
 in the water. As they come rolling over and over, and splash- 
 ing the water, they make a sound like a boat in motion. Some 
 of our boys are from the mountains, and never saw a gunboat 
 or a " porpus," as Jack calls them. They were on picket on 
 the bluff. The moon was half full, and they could dimly see 
 from where thev stood the river winding around the bend. 
 
114 TIIK BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 They heard at midnight a sound thej had never heard the like 
 of before, and they saw the waters in motion. They did not 
 stand on the order of their leaving. Firing their carbines at 
 the supposed enemy, they mounted their horses, and daslied 
 back to camp. The bugler sounded " Saddles," and we were in 
 short order dasliing down tlie road to the bluff. There were 
 neither yanks nor gunboats, but the sea pigs were having a 
 big time in the river. 
 
 We are having a jolly time, with enough work to do to keep 
 us out of mischief. Our chaplain comes to the camp every week 
 and spends a few days with us. He has preaching and prayer 
 meeting in the Methodist church, and we enjoy the services 
 very much. 
 
 Tell mamma that we got the box of good things, and we have 
 royal dinners, and Jack is in his glory. Love to everybody. 
 Tell Mrs. Jones that the Sergeant messes with us, and that he 
 is getting to be real fat. 
 
 Affectionately, Roger. 
 
 Campaigning on the coast was a monotonous 
 business. The videttes went to the posts in the 
 evening and morning, and rode back again. The 
 troops received the daily papers from Charleston 
 and Savannah, and their mail every day. Some 
 of them had their wives to come to the camp to 
 see them. The Federals exchanged half-playful 
 shots across the waters of the small bays with the 
 videttes on the other side, but the bullets fell harm- 
 lessly in the water. Roger was so much better 
 acquainted with the state of things, however, that I 
 will let him tell his stor}' : 
 
CAMPAIGNING ON THE COAST. II5 
 
 May River, May, 1861. 
 
 My Dear Helen: We have moved our camp. If you will get 
 the map of South Carolina, and look to its lowest point below 
 Savannah, jou will see the point where we are. The place is 
 called Box's. The old farmhouse, which is a hundred years 
 old, has been vacated, and ue have some of our troops housed 
 in it. It is most beautifully located in a grove of oaks, and is 
 surrounded on every side by salt water. At certain times of 
 the tide we are on an island. Our videttes are distributed from 
 this point to all the country around. There is not a soul near 
 us except some old negroes on the Drayton and Pope places. 
 These old places interest me very much. They are so old that 
 I cannot but bring up the pictures of the wonderful changes which 
 have passed over this section since they were settled; and vet, 
 while the houses are old and the fields are old, and the negroes 
 who were born here are old, there is very much of the country 
 which is as wild as when the Indians were here. A few old 
 men hang about their homes, but the larger part of the inhabi- 
 tants are gone to the interior. There is not a lady nearer than 
 Hardeeville, which is twenty miles away. There used to be 
 some here evidently, for some dainty-looking shoes, which w^ere 
 once on a woman's foot, but were worn out long ago, are lying 
 around. One of our boys got one the other day and made some 
 tracks in the sand, and looked fondly at them. 
 
 You know that Fort Pulaski has fallen. One of our posts is 
 in full view of it, and by climbing upon tlie lower limbs of a 
 live oak I had a good sight of the bombardment. I could see 
 a long trail of smoke from the batteries of Gilmore as the shells 
 moved on the effective work. I could see the smoke of our 
 guns as they replied, and could hear the report across the wa- 
 ter. All day long the guns were sounding. I did not think 
 that the fort would fall; but the next day we could see that her 
 guns were still, and then we had the news of her surrender. 
 But I have written you a long letter. Love to everybody. 
 
 Yours, Roger. 
 
Il6 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 The winter climate in this part of South Caroli- 
 na is really ravishing, and even the spring and 
 early summer are quite pleasant. There were 
 quite a number of refugees at the village where 
 the railway station was, and the fair maidens used 
 to visit the camp occasionally, much to Roger's 
 enjoyment. Sometimes they dined with the offi- 
 cers, and sometimes they made an evening party 
 and brightened the camp with their merriment. 
 Thus the summer wore away. The chaplain had 
 good books which he gave the men, and there was 
 prayer meeting and preaching every Sunday. 
 Then there was the daily drill, and the picketing, 
 and the constant care of the horses. The mail 
 came every day, and finally Roger's enjoyment 
 reached its height when his mother and Helen 
 came to spend a month in the camp. The enemy 
 made no movement. The battles were joined 
 around Richmond, and the seven days' fight was 
 over, and the order came for Drayton's Bri- 
 gade to report at Richmond to Gen. Lee, and 
 await orders ; and the most delightful episode of 
 the war, to Roger, ended. Henceforth there was 
 no holiday soldiering; it was stern work, and 
 much of it. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 INFANTRY SERVICE IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA. 
 
 ^^HE battalion of troops which was commanded 
 ^ by Col. Lawson was cavalry, but it was con- 
 nected with a battalion of infantry and a company 
 of artillery, and formed a legion. When the 
 troops were ordered to Virginia it was decided 
 that the infantry should be raised to a regiment 
 and the legion dissolved, and Col. Lawson, who 
 was second in command, was given the regiment, 
 while the colonel was given a brigade. Roger 
 was transferred from the troop and made a ser- 
 geant major. It was to report at Richmond and 
 await orders. The colonel of the regiment was 
 entitled to forage for two horses, and so Daisy 
 was taken along. 
 
 The troops were packed in freight cars and 
 transported to Richmond. There was little to in- 
 terest in the wearisome travel to Richmond, but at 
 last the city was reached, and the regiment 
 marched six miles down the river to Chaffin's 
 Bluff, where it went into camp. There was little 
 
 to do in camp, so Roger was permitted to go to 
 
 (117) 
 
Il8 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 the city every day. Richmond, whose fame is 
 world-wide since it was the capital of the short- 
 lived Confederacy, is an interesting place to visit, 
 and Roger wrote Helen how it appeared to him in 
 those late days of the summer of 1862; 
 
 Chaffin's Bluff (near Richmond), August, 1862. *, 
 
 Dear Helen: We are here now in camp. Our camp is six 
 miles below Richmond, on a high bluff on the James River. 
 Drewrj's Bluff is just on the other side of the river, and batter- 
 ies with heavy guns are planted in front of us. I think we are 
 only here for a short time, and will soon be ordered to the 
 front. You know I am no longer an orderly, but the sergeant 
 major of my regiment. The infantry I do not like quite as 
 well as I do the cavalry, but we are not so continuously in mo- 
 tion, and as papa has two horses I have the full use of my 
 pretty Daisy, and when my duties do not keep me in camp I 
 take advantage of my privileges. I go to Richmond nearly 
 ever\' day. The ride along the James is an interesting one* 
 some of the farmhouses, or country seats rather, are very 
 handsome. We pass through a rather rough section of the 
 citv called " Rocketts," and then through what was evidently 
 the old citv, until we reach the capitol and the more aristocratic 
 part of it. I was struck by nothing in Richmond so forcibly 
 as by the beautiful statue of Washington, with the statues of 
 the great men around the base. 
 
 The city is full of soldiers. Brigadiers are so common that 
 nobody notices their stars, and captains and lieutenants are no- 
 bodies, and as for a poor sergeant major he is out of sight. I 
 saw the President the other morning at St, Paul's Church with 
 his wife and his little son and daughter. He is a very gentle- 
 manly, quiet-looking man who is a great deal less assuming 
 than Corporal Sykes was when he got his new uniform. Mr. 
 
INFANTRY SERVICE. II9 
 
 Benjamin, the Secretary of War, with his spectacles on his 
 nose, is the verj picture of Mr. Moses Cohen, whose store you 
 visit in Savannah. I went in last Sunday night to hear Dr. 
 Duncan, the famous Methodist preacher. Mr. Davis goes there 
 every Sunday night. Dr. Duncan is a stout, young, smooth- 
 shaved, dignified-looking preacher, and his style is very easy 
 and graceful. He is very popular, and his church is always 
 crowded. I do not find our camp life a bad one, though we 
 have right hard fare now. There is nothing but hard-tack and 
 beef. The coffee has given out, and we have to put up with 
 any substitute we can get. Sometimes we can get supplies from 
 Richmond, but there are so many people there that we find it 
 difficult and very expensive to get anything good to eat. We 
 are very vmsettled, and I expect my next letter will be from 
 some place nearer the front. 
 
 I begin now to see what war is. The hospitals are filled 
 with sick and wounded men. The country around here is 
 stripped of everything which makes a country agreeable, and 
 there is nothing talked of now but news from the front. 
 
 Affectionately, Roger. 
 
 A few days after this letter was written Col. 
 Lawson was ordered by Gen. Drayton to report 
 to the quartermaster in Richmond, who would 
 furnish transportation to Gordonsville. The horses 
 were to be ridden through the country, and Roger 
 was granted leave of absence from the regiment 
 and permitted to make the three days' journey 
 through the country on horseback. He wrote 
 Helen when he reached Gordonsville: 
 
 Gordonsville, August, 1S62. 
 
 Dear Heleii : I arrived here yesterday, after a fflOst interest- 
 
I20 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ing ride from Richmond to this place, where we are now in 
 camp. The country around Richmond, after jou leave the 
 James River, is by no means fertile. I do not think it ever 
 was. We went through Hanover County, and found ourselves, 
 before night, in what are known as the " Slashes." Papa says 
 Mr. Clay was born here, and was called the "mill boy of the 
 slashes." The country is very flat and swampy, and the homes 
 are old, and the farms worn out; and when I know that Patrick 
 Henry and Henry Clay were both born here I don't think it 
 takes good land to make good orators. We reached a nice, 
 plain farmhouse in Louisa County by nighttime, and had good 
 quarters. The next day we rode through a ]50or country, like 
 that we had ridden through, till near noon, when we came into 
 the most beautiful section and saw some of the most elegant 
 farms I ever saw. We rode up to a handsome brick house, and 
 asked for dinner. We Avere warmly received, and found our- 
 selves in a most elegant and refined home. Dr. Pendleton was 
 the name of our host, and he was a delightful host 3'ou may be 
 sure. We had a grand dinner. It really looked as if we were 
 expected guests and elaborate preparations had been made for 
 us. We found good places to stop everywhere, and came, after 
 three days of steady riding, to our regiment, which is camped 
 in an old field here. There are quite a number of troops here, 
 and they are evidently expected to go somewhere, but where 
 I cannot conjecture. I hope you are all having a good time at 
 " Pine Lodge." I am so glad mamma has such a daughter as 
 vou are. If the good Lord brings us safe home again, we will 
 try to show you how grateful we are. Love to everybody. 
 
 Roger. 
 
 The arm}^ was ordered to move very soon after 
 Roger reached it. There was only time for rest, 
 and to bring up the "convalescent, v/hen the order 
 
INFANTRY SERVICE. 121 
 
 came to cook three days' rations and be ready to 
 
 move at a moment's warning. Tlie seven days' 
 
 fight had been over for near two months, and the 
 
 Confederates, though much weakened by their 
 
 losses, were now recruited and ready for another 
 
 campaign. The Federals were now trying to reach 
 
 Richmond by Fredericksburg, and were on the 
 
 east side of the Rappahannock. Jackson had been 
 
 moving on the enemy in the Valley, and had cleared 
 
 it of his opponents, and now it was evident that 
 
 the Confederate army was changing front so as to 
 
 meet Burnside on the banks of the Rappahannock. 
 
 The army is always in profound ignorance of what 
 
 is designed, and at night, the day after Roger 
 
 reached Gordonsville, it was put in motion to go 
 
 it knew not where. Roger wrote Helen of this 
 
 all-night march as soon as the army made a little 
 
 halt, which it did near a small place called Ste- 
 
 vensburg, where the army stopped for a day or 
 
 two: 
 
 Stevensburg, Va., August 5, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Helen : We have had a long march and have just 
 gone into camp here, not far from the Rappahannock, and 
 while we are resting I will write vou a line. 
 
 We began our march from Gordonsville in the afternoon, 
 and marched through as poor a country as you ever saw. The 
 march was all night long, and just at sunrise we reached the 
 Rapidan River. There was no bridge, so I wondered how the 
 Soldiers were goin~g to cress the river when thev reached it. I 
 
122 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 saw them plunge in, clothes and all, and come out dripping on 
 the other side. They continued the march, wet as they were, 
 and just as we reached the road which came down the other 
 side of the river Gen. Jackson came marching by to take posi- 
 tion on the heights below us. We were now in the forks of the 
 Rapidan and Rappahannock, and went into camp about ten 
 o'clock in the day. 
 
 We were thoroughly tired, and rested all day, waiting for 
 Burnside to cros^ the river and attack us. 
 
 The next morning I went out sauntering near the camp, and 
 seeing a poor-looking house by the wayside, I went in. The 
 family in it were the fussiest people I ever saw. The old man 
 was fussy, his wife was fussy, and his daughters were fussy, 
 and they were at their best that morning. Some soldier had 
 stolen the old man's horse, and the lamentation was loud and 
 long over the loss of his last "critter," as he called it. I told 
 him he had better go at once to the general, the man who had 
 the three stars on his collar, and tell him about it. lie had just 
 gone in hot haste, when one of the girls of the family came up 
 and said: "O mam, they have hung a man down thar by the 
 spring." Sure enough, there was a poor fello>v, in a new Con- 
 federate uniform, hanging by the neck dead. He was a spy, and 
 had been caught with evidence that he was not on\y a spy, but 
 that he had murdered an orderly, and the general sentenced 
 him to be hung at once. 
 
 The Federals were just on the other side of the river, and we 
 expected them to cross over and attack us every hour; but they 
 went back to Fredericksburg, and are trying to reach Richmond 
 again by way of Alexandria and Manassas. When Gen. Lee 
 found that the}- were making that move he ordered us to march. 
 We are here merely to rest a little while, and then 1 think we 
 will move on toward Manassas. 
 
 Later. — La^t night the order came for the men to be ready 
 
INFANT RV SERVICE. 1 23 
 
 to move at daylight, and at daylight the whole brigade was in 
 column in the road and marched on toward the ri\er. We 
 filed out into a grove of large trees and formed a line of battle. 
 The skirmishers were sent to the river bank, and directly we 
 heard the rattle of their rifles, and then our cannon opened and 
 the Federal battery replied. The firing was brisk, and the 
 shells swept through the woods, over our heads, and tore down 
 great branches from the trees, and now and then cut a trunk in 
 two and fell in our midst. 
 
 I tell you, Helen, there was no fun in lying there and taking a 
 shelling. Now and then we heard a groan, and knew that some 
 one was wounded. Our chaplain was called to see one of our 
 soldiers whose leg had been torn off by a shell. The poor fel- 
 low said he was " going to heaven," and asked the chaplain to 
 pray for him, and he knelt there where the shells were flying 
 and asked God to bless the dying man. 
 
 We expected every moment for the yankee infantry to be 
 on us; but they made no move, and after an artillery duel of 
 about two hours the firing ceased and we went back to camp 
 and rested the remainder of the day. 
 
 At this camp I made my first effort at cooking for myself, 
 and succeeded only tolerably. I made a dough of the flour bv 
 mixing it with water in an old tin pan which belonged to one 
 of the soldiers, and, as I had no frying pan nor oven, I dug a 
 pit like a barbecue pit and laid some green sticks across that, 
 and my dough on the frame, and then stuck my bacon on a 
 hickory stick and held it to the fire. As the grease oozed out 
 I held it over the bread, and so accomplished several ends. 
 
 I don't like war. I don't want to hurt the yanks, and I don't 
 want them to hurt me. I am sorry for the poor people along 
 the march whose fences are burned and whose stock is all 
 killed. Our own army does almost as much harm to those 
 on the line of march as th^ enemy's. War is more wasteful 
 
124 ^^^^ ^°'^' ^'^ GRAY. 
 
 and fearful than vou can conceive of; but we are in it, and we 
 must get out. Roger. 
 
 P. S. — Dear Mamma: Don't be uneasy. God lias taken good 
 care of papa and me, and I liope we will both get back. Pray 
 for us. 
 
 Your loving Roger. 
 
 The little artillery duel was merely a feint. 
 Gen. Pope was massing his troops for a decisive 
 battle at Manassas, and Gen. Lee was getting 
 ready to meet him. The armies zigzagged through 
 Culpeper, Prince William, and Fauquier, until at 
 last they reached Bull Run again, where the second 
 battle of Manassas was fought. 
 
 It is not my purpose to write a history of the 
 war, nor even of the campaigns in which Roger 
 had a part, but merely to give a young fellow's 
 adventures as he tells them himself. If my young 
 readers want an authentic history of this campaign, 
 they must search many books of war records to 
 find it; and then if they find it as it really was, they 
 will be more fortunate than I have ever been. I 
 am sure the best intentions of an historian are not 
 certain to lead him to a correct account of events 
 when the relation of them comes from so many' 
 people who had different points of view, but I am 
 sure Roger's story is just as correct as it claims to 
 be. He wrote to " Pine Lodge" every opportunity, 
 but he had no time for writinjx from the time he left 
 
INFANTRY SERVICE. 1 25 
 
 Stevensburg till Monday, after the second battle 
 of Manassas, and then he wrote to Helen and his 
 mother: 
 
 Manassas, August, 1862. 
 
 Dear Helen : I ha\e not Avritten you for near two weeks. 
 We have been incessantly on the march, and I can only snatch 
 the time wliile we are bivouacking here to try and catch up. I 
 wrote you last from near a little village called Stevensburg. 
 The next day after I wrote we Avere ordered to march. You 
 know a soldier goes by faith. He has to obey. He never knows 
 where he is going. He does not even see his commander. The 
 adjutant of the regiment gives me \\\y orders, and I give them 
 to the captains, and they give them to the orderlies, and we do 
 Avhat we're told to do, and that's the end of it. 
 
 Marching on foot and riding are very different things, and 
 wliile I hiight ride now and then, I prefer to share with the 
 men, and so I tramp along as they do. Poor fellows, many of 
 them are barefooted, and it hurts me to see that they sometimes 
 leave bloody prints on the ground as they walk; but they are 
 the merriest crowd you ever saw. They have names for the 
 soldiers from each of the different States. The Georgia troops 
 are called "Goober Grabbers;" the North Carolina, "Tar 
 Heels;" the South Carolina, " Sand Lappers;" the Arkansas, 
 "Travelers;" the Florida, " Crackers," etc. If they see a fellow 
 with a new hat, they yell at him: "Come out of that hat." 
 They make fun of everything but religion. I never saw one, 
 however bad he was, who would not treat his chaplain re- 
 spectfully. They will divide all the}' have with j'ou, but I am 
 sorry to say they are not remarkable for their honesty. One 
 fellow stole my -oilcloth the other day, and while our chaplain 
 was praying with his eyes shut one of the reprobates stole his 
 blanket. 
 
 We trudge along sometimes verv slowlv behind our wagon 
 
126 THK BOV IN GRAY. 
 
 trains, and of all weaiiftonie things it is to march behind a hun- 
 dred loaded wagons. Sometimes we take short cuts across the 
 lields. The other day we were moving along across a field in 
 which there was a small clump of woods. The Eleventh South 
 Carolina had just reached the woods, when I saw the first com- 
 pany break in wild confusion, and with a yell they made haste 
 and delayed not. They ran a little way, and then some of them 
 fell down and rolled over in the grass. The second company 
 followed suit, and so did the third. " Hornets! hornets! " yelled 
 the crowd, and our regiment made a detour rapidly and gave 
 the spiteful fellows abundant room. 
 
 You must know this constant tramping grows wearisome, 
 especially when you don't know where you are going. Some 
 parts of the country are very fertile, but the country generally 
 is quite worn. We began to get near the mountains, and reached 
 the railroad at a gap called Thoroughfare. Here I saw Gen. 
 Lee for the first time during tliis campaign. You know I saw 
 him first last year at Sewell Mountain, and then afterwards in 
 South Carolina; but he has changed very much in looks since 
 he has turned out his beard, and has a much older look and 
 seems to be a stouter man than he was. lie was very kind and 
 courteous to every one, acknowledging my salute with a pleas- 
 ant smile. 
 
 We were placed in a railroad cut at Thoroughfare Gap, and 
 had to take another shelling. The enemy's batterj', however, 
 could not reach vis, and their shells exploded on the hills be- 
 3'ond us. The only disaster to me was a p'ece of spent shell 
 which fell right on my heart and which I picked up and put in 
 my pocket. I gave it to a lady who lived in a farmhouse near 
 by, and who kindiv had given me my supper. Papa bears up 
 very bravely and cheerfully. He is a great favorite with his 
 men, and is especially kind to them. 
 
 There was a right sharp little skirmish near the Gap, but it 
 
INFANTRY SERVICE. I 27 
 
 did not amount to a great deal. The janks soon saw that 
 they could not get throagh the Gap, and they drew off toward 
 Grovetown. 
 
 I do not think in all our marching we have ever had such a 
 day as the day we left Thoroughfare. It looked as if man and 
 beast would perish for water. There were no brooks, no rivers, 
 no springs, and the wells were drawn dry; but about four o'clock 
 in the afternoon we came to a spring, if such it might be called, 
 in an old field. We had not been out of hearing of cannons for 
 two weeks, and were used to it, and the fact that the yankee ar- 
 tillery was blazing away at us did not at all disturb us. We 
 were, however, arranged on the field by companies, and were 
 preparing to fill our empty canteens when we heard the shriek 
 of a shell as it fell right in our midst and exploded, leaving two 
 men dead and two wounded. We soon saw that we were in range 
 of a masked battery, and leaving our wounded men to the care 
 of the surgeons and chaplain and ambulance corps, we left there 
 in quick time. Recklessness and courage are, the soldiers say, 
 different things, and the man who would foolishly expose him- 
 self, or the general who would foolishly expose his brigade, are 
 at as great a discount as cowards. We were sorry to leave our 
 poor wounded men, but we were almost in rifle shot of the enemy. 
 
 All that afternoon we could hear the yells of Jackson's men 
 on our left and the huzzas of the yanks. Who was the victor.' 
 This was the question. At last the dark came, and with it the 
 news that old Jack was en top stili. We lay on our arms all 
 night, forbidden to speak above a whisper, and with the dawn- 
 ing the guns opened again. We were in Longstreet's Corps, 
 and were on the extreme right wing. We lay in an old field, 
 just out of range of the shells; and while we could not see, we 
 could hear the roar of the guns, the yells and huzzas of the sol- 
 diers, and see the white smoke of the cannon. I climbed up on 
 top of an old house near our regiment, and with papa's glass I 
 
128 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 had a good view of the fight. Gen. Lee and his staff were on 
 a high hill to our left, where they could see the entire field. 
 Away oflF to the left was Jackson's Corps. It was a long way 
 from us, but I could see where it was posted, in a cut of the 
 railroad just deep enough to give good protection. When I 
 looked the battle was getting pretty, hot, and I could see the 
 line of Federals coming out of the wood and moving on Jack- 
 son. Then the smoke from the rifles and the smoke from the 
 cannon covered the field. When it blew away 1 saw that the 
 blue line was broken and was retreating; but those brave janks 
 came again and again, and then our infantry seemed to me to 
 cease firing, and the Federals swept on the works apparently 
 unresisted. But just then two battalions of artillery came dash- 
 ing at a full gallop up to the railway cut behind the silent in- 
 fantry, and before I could tell you they had unlinibered, and 
 the guns poured out volleys of shot and shell. I saw Gen. 
 Longstreet just before this dash away from Gen. Leo at a full 
 gallop, and at the head of an Alabama brigade, followed by the 
 division, he dashed on the center of the Federals, and their left 
 and center both gave way. I then saw the aid come galloping 
 toward us and the long roll sounded. 
 
 I was on the ground in a moment and at my place, and we 
 were double-quicked to the field of battle; but when we were 
 almost on the field the order came to "Halt! right about face, 
 forward double-quick," and we came back to fhe field 7ve left. 
 Somebody blundered. Gen. Drayton heard that the enemy 
 were enfilading us and brought us back to find the enemy, and 
 lo! they xvere a company of our oxvn troops. We could not now 
 move rapidly, for we were completely' done up, so we quietly 
 marched back to the field again and moved steadilj', but not on 
 a run, up the hill to the extreme left of the Federals. The 
 general of the division rode by us and told us to give the sol- 
 diers in front a cheer, and wc did. 
 
INFANTRY SERVICE. 1 29 
 
 To hear the whistle of the balls as they swept by you was 
 not as fearful as the shriek of the shells, but more dangerous. 
 As papa rode into the fields poor VVhitey got a ball through the 
 neck and fell, but with his sword in hand his rider pushed for- 
 ward on foot. 
 
 It w-as to me strangely dark. I could not think it was night- 
 fall, but it was, and just as we entered the wood from which we 
 Avere to move on the battery which we were to silence it be- 
 came so dark that we could not see, and then came the com- 
 mand to halt. We were so nigh the yanks that we could hear 
 them talk, but we could not see ahead of us. The general 
 thought if we attempted an advance we would fire into each 
 other, and so we came out of the battle without firing a gun. 
 
 Several of our men were wounded, but none were killed. 
 Poor old Whitey is right badly hurt, but he may get well. 
 Papa telegraphed mamma, to Fleming, and telegraphed Mr. 
 Clark to send you tlie telegram. I will write again as soon as 
 I get a moment to spare, but I must write to mamma now. 
 
 Roger. 
 
 Roger to his mother: 
 
 Manassas, August, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Mamma: My letter to Helen will tell you all about 
 our doings for the last two weeks, and I only write to you to tell 
 you how much I love you, and how glad I am that God took 
 such care of papa in the battle day before yesterday. I did not 
 relish the battle; but I was not so much afraid for myself as for 
 him, and when I saw poor Whitey reel as the bullet struck him 
 I was scared almost to death; but papa leaped from his back, 
 and with his sword waving he urged the boys on as if nothing 
 had occurred. 
 
 I am so glad that you taught me to pray. If it had not been 
 for that, I am afraid that I should not have escaped the dangers 
 of camp life, and all the day of the great battle I found my heart 
 
130 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 rising to God in prayer. I am so glad that we won the victory ; 
 but as I went over the field yesterday, I was so sorry for the 
 suffering of our own folks and of the poor yanks that I could not 
 rejoice in the victory won. The Federals sent a flag of truce, 
 and Gen. Lee gave them full permission to go over the field and 
 gather up the wounded. I did what I could. With some of the 
 other boys, we searched for those who were most in need of 
 help, and filled their canteens with Avater, and fixed them as 
 comfortably as we could, and tried to cheer them. Our own 
 wounded were gathered into the farmhouses all about, and 
 many of them put in ambulances and sent to Warrenton. 
 
 I hate war. I expect to be a true soldier, and to fight as well 
 as I can ; but I hate war. 
 
 The good Lord bless you all! Papa cannot write; he is too 
 busy, for he is now in command of the brigade. He tells me to 
 write, and sends a heartful of love. Roger. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THINGS IN LIBERTY. 
 
 %^HILE Roger and his father were at the front 
 Mrs. Lawson and Helen were having no easy 
 time at "Pine Lodge." The earnest efforts of 
 Mr. WilHam Jones, the overseer, who was past the 
 age of conscription, had not relieved them entirely 
 from anxiety. The chief care was the father and 
 son, and then how to provide for all their slaves 
 and of all their interest was indeed a trying ques- 
 tion. The coast was so exposed that it was certain 
 that the negroes would be forced away from the 
 plantation, if they did not wish to leave, and it was 
 as certain that many of them would run away to 
 the yankees as soon as they could get a chance. 
 The cattle and stock, with all the horses and mules, 
 would fall a prey to the marauders who could land 
 on the coast. 
 
 So it was decided to move all that could be 
 
 moved up to " Pine Lodge," and abandon for the 
 
 time being the two plantations on Medway. There 
 
 were houses to build, fields to open, and immediate 
 
 needs to be supplied. There was a full crop of 
 
 (131) 
 
132 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 rice made in 1861, and the large crop of potatoes 
 and corn which Mr. Jones had made at "Pine 
 Lodge;" but it was necessary to Hve very closely. 
 It was a struggle for subsistence. There was no 
 money but Confederate money, and its purchasing 
 power was not great. 
 
 Capt. Lawson had an investment in the stock of 
 the Rosevelt Cotton Factory, and received divi- 
 dends in cotton thread and in cloth; and this, 
 with the busy hands of the spinners and weavers, 
 supplied the negroes with clothes. Sugar cane, 
 peanuts, upland rice, potatoes, and peas were 
 planted, and while the negroes missed their patches 
 and had to submit to privations which were not at 
 all agreeable to them, and while some of them ran 
 away from the farm, the most of them remained, 
 and very faithfully aided their mistress in her ex- 
 ertions. 
 
 Helen's letters to Roger will tell of how grandly 
 {he brave girl bore herself under it all: 
 
 " Pine Lodge," August, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Roger: Yours from Stevensburg just received. 
 Verily jou are having a time. I hardly know Avhere to catch 
 you; but it may be that this will reach you, as it is sent by one 
 of the Troop who has been at home on a furlough. 
 
 Well, we are doing very well. After the fall of Fort Pulaski 
 last April, we saw that our removal from the coast could not be 
 long delayed, and so Mr. Jones sent up twenty of the men, and 
 
THINGS IN LIBERTY. I33 
 
 they went to work to build the cabins. Happily father had bought 
 a small sawmill outfit, and Mr. Jones had it moved up here. 
 We needed to clear a great deal of land to put at once in peas 
 for the people, and so we cleared the land and got timber for 
 the mill at the same time. We soon had the cabins ready, and 
 while there was a rest time we began to move everything but 
 the growing rice to this place. We are now all pretty well 
 moved, and until harvest we will be easy. We expect to send 
 down a set of hands then to get in the rice; but their families 
 will remain here. 
 
 We are quite comfortable. I am wearing my old clothes. I 
 made my first hat out of palmetto the other day. We make our 
 sugar, as you know, and we get from the Rosevelt Mill a few 
 bales of cotton yarn every month, which not only supplies our 
 wants, but which we can trade for bacon and other supplies. We 
 have about used up our coffee, except a little that we keep for 
 the preacher and for sick folks ; but we get along pretty well on 
 potato coffee and ground pea chocolate. 
 
 Don't you be worried about us. I have a beautiful suit of 
 gray jeans just out of the loom for papa, and one for you, and 
 you ought to see me in my brand new homespun. If vou men 
 will do your duty at the front, we will do ours at home. 
 
 I still keep up my Sunday school, and enjoy my work very 
 much. I believe God will take care of you both, and I am try- 
 ing to do what I know he wills for me to do at home. Mamma 
 keeps as well as could be expected, but this constant anxiety 
 presses her much. 
 
 God bless you, my dear, brave brother ! I love you more than 
 I can tell. Love to dear papa. Helen. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MARYLAND ! MY JVIARYLAND ! 
 
 fHE stunning defeat of the Federal army only- 
 seemed to inspire the determined North with 
 a sterner resolution to conquer at all costs, and 
 slowly and stubbornly the Army of the Potomac 
 fell back to Washington. I doubt if the capture 
 of Washington was ever seriously contemplated 
 by the Confederates. The fact was, the South 
 knew she could not conquer the North; she was 
 only trying to keep the North from conquering 
 her. Whether she was mistaken or not, as she 
 surely was, the South believed that she was fight- 
 ing for life, and she was determined no hostile 
 foot should remain on her soil; and when Gen. 
 Pope did not go back fast enough Gen. Lee 
 pressed after him and drove him to the banks of 
 the Potomac. We fought our last battle in this 
 compaign in Virginia in sight of the church spires 
 of Alexandria — the battle of Chantilly — and then 
 began a movement on Maryland. Moving up the 
 Potomac, v/e crossed in Loudon beyond Leesburg, 
 and took our first rest at Frederick, in Mar3dand. 
 (131) 
 
MARYLAND ! MY MARYLAND I I35 
 
 Roger's letter to Helen gives us a full account of 
 this march. 
 
 Frederick, Md., September, 1862. 
 My Dear Helen: We remained at the camp at Manassas only 
 a day after I wrote, and then began our march up the Potomac. 
 We came into Loudon County, a beautiful fertile country, in 
 strange contrast with the desolate land we had left behind. 
 We found in Loudon the most delightful people, who gave us 
 genuine coffee, rich cream, golden butter, nice hams, and 
 the other evidences of civilization. We were, however, on the 
 i.iove all the time. The other night in our march we had some 
 real fun. Our chaplain, who is my great friend, is a young 
 man full of life and activity. He bought a horse of uncertain 
 age, after the battle of Manassas, whom he called " Old Rip." 
 He made a pair of saddle pockets out of his knapsack, and 
 stuffed a few clothes in them. He is always foraging for the 
 rest of us. The other day he turned aside from the line of 
 march and found where he could buy a chicken and some Irish 
 potatoes. He prepared the chicken for the frying pan, and 
 fried it himself as nicely as an inexperienced chaplain could, 
 boiled the praties, and put the provisions in his haversack 
 for papa and the others of our mess. When he reached us we 
 were crossing Goose Creek. There was a temporary bridge 
 over it for the infantry, but the horsemen had to ford. The 
 ford was rough and rocky, and the horses plunged a good deal, 
 but in went the daring chaplain. About the time he reached 
 the deepest part Old Rip stepped on a stone and lost his footing 
 and fell over on his side, and the poor chaplain went under 
 head and ears. His knapsack saddlebags were soaked, and 
 he was simply saturated. As he came out of the water John 
 Baker in all sincerity called out: " Parson, are you wet.-"' The 
 chaplain told him he thought so. There happened to be a fire 
 
136 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 near by, and he dried his damp garments and went on his way. 
 When we got to the Potomac I noticed that he waded across 
 like the rest of us and let another man ride Old Rip. 
 
 When we had crossed the Potomac we were in Maryland. 
 The Marylanders, like the Virginians, are very warm in their 
 Southern sympathies, and treated us very kindly. The Sun- 
 day bells were ringing when we pitched our camp in sight of 
 the good old city of Frederick. Here we are to stay some days. 
 I don't think Gen. Pope, whose headquarters are in the saddle, 
 will be after us till he gets over the drubbing we gave him in 
 Virginia. These Frederick people are mightily mixed: some 
 of them very ardent Southerners, and some of them as ardent 
 Unionists. I was really sorry for an old fellow who sold out 
 his whole hardware stock for Confederate money, which cer- 
 tainly can't do him any good in buying a new supply of mer- 
 chandise. I went to church Sunday afternoon; but the preach- 
 er was evidently scared at so many soldiers, for he did not 
 preach. I found some very kind people here, and was very 
 glad that nobody, Unionist or rebel, was molested by our peo- 
 ple, but all was quiet and orderly. 
 
 I will write again as soon as I can. Roger. 
 
 The army moved on from Frederick; but much 
 to Roger's after surprise, there were ninety thou- 
 sand Federals just behind it. The next letter of 
 Roger's was some two weeks afterwards, and was 
 
 from Virginia: 
 
 Warrenton, Va., September 20, 1862. 
 My Dear Sister: Papa has telegraphed to you that I was 
 wounded at South Mountain, but that I was not at all in any 
 danger, and I hope your anxiety is at an end. We left Fred- 
 erick and marched through a beautiful country and made our 
 grand entrdc into Hagerstown, four miles from the Pennsylvania 
 
MARYLAND I MY MARYLAND! 1 37 
 
 line. We had no idea there were any yanks nearer than 
 Washington City except a few cavalrymen who were skirmishing 
 all the time with our boys; but we had scarcely got rested from 
 our march before the command to march came, and we went 
 down the same road we came up. As we marched we could 
 hear the constant rattle of musketry and the boom of guns. 
 We reached the foot of the South Mountain and saw Gen. Lee 
 and Gen. Longstreet and Gen. Jones all together, and we 
 marched on and took our place at the top of the mountain be- 
 hind a stone wall. The cannons were shooting over our heads 
 at some advancing Federals, whom we could not see. At 
 length we were ordered forward, and as we crossed another 
 stone fence and went into a wood, the bullets whizzed about us 
 very sharply and one struck me on the neck, but just scratched 
 me. We were firing as rapidly as we could at the enemy in our 
 front, when I saw a man running to papa, who was command- 
 ing the regiment, and I saw him look around in alarm. We 
 were enfiladed, and the enemy was just about to surround us 
 entirely. Papa gave the order to retire, and we did so not a 
 moment too soon, for they were nearly all around us. V/e en- 
 tered the wood we had left, and were preparing to rally on the 
 stone wall, when I felt a deadness in my left leg and fell to the 
 ground. I thought my leg was torn off, but I looked and saw 
 it was there still. Some of the boys put me on a stretcher and 
 then in an ambulance. Poor papa came to me and saw how I 
 was hurt, and said: "All right, bo}', keep a brave heart. You 
 shall have a furlough now." Well, I suffered a little, but not 
 as much as many. The surgeon bandaged my leg as best he 
 could and sent me in an ambulance Avith several others to the 
 hospital here. I can't Avalk nor use a crutch yet, but I am get- 
 ting along very well indeed. Miss Berta Phillips, a nice young 
 lady, is going to take me to her home as soon as the doctor will 
 let me go. I know there has been a battle at Sharpsburg since 
 
138 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 I left the army, and I hope dear papa has come out safelj. I 
 know you have all heard ere this. 
 
 Give a great deal of love to everjbody. 
 
 Affectionately, Roger. 
 
 The battle of Sharpsburg was fought on Wednes- 
 day after the battle of South Mountain on Sunday. 
 Col. Lawson led his regiment so gallantly that he 
 was promoted to a brigadier general, and yet es- 
 caped without a serious wound. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "yank" and "johnny" in the same hospital. 
 
 W^fHlLE Roger was in the hospital at Warren- 
 *^ ton a young Federal officer, v/ho had been 
 wounded in a cavalry fight at Brandy, and left in 
 our lines, was brought to it. He had his elbow 
 bone shivered by a pistol shot, and as the bullet 
 plov/ed its way through the muscles of his arm 
 it lacerated them badly, and made a very ugly 
 wound. He and Roger soon became good friends. 
 They were the same age, and had many experi- 
 ences in common. 
 
 The young Federal was the son of a former Con- 
 gressman from Connecticut, a Judge Bingham. 
 In spite of his wound he was uniformly cheerful. 
 But one morning when the surgeon looked at his 
 wound his face grew serious. He saw a little 
 speck of green which told of the deadly gangrene. 
 The boy must be removed from the hospital, or 
 death would likely come into it. He told Roger 
 this, and Roger set to work to save his companion. 
 
 Miss Berta Phillips was to come for him that morn- 
 
 (130) 
 
140 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ing; but he resolved that he would not go, or 
 Bingham should go with him. 
 
 Miss Berta's bright face came beaming to the 
 door: " I want my soldier boy." 
 
 " But I am not going." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I want you to take somebody else. I 
 am doing as well as I can do ; but there is a little 
 yank here who will die if somebody don't take 
 him out from this place, and you must take him." 
 
 " Me take a yankee? No, sir! " 
 
 "Yes you will. You just see him, and you'll 
 take him." 
 
 " Well, I won't see him." 
 
 " Yes you will." 
 
 " But I won't." 
 
 "Yes you will. Just listen: He has a good, 
 sweet mother, and a pretty sister, and a good old 
 father, and they are Presbyterians like you are, 
 and he'll die if he don't get away." 
 
 "Well, can't I take you too?" 
 
 "Yes, I reckon so; but you must take him if 
 you do." 
 
 " Well, I won't; but you may." 
 
 So Lieut. Bingham went with Roger to the de- 
 lightful home of the Phillips family, where the 
 comforts of life and tender watchingf of kind 
 
IN THE HOSPITAL,. I4I 
 
 friends soon expelled the poison from his veins. 
 But Roger must tell about the meeting: 
 
 Phillips House, Warrenton, Va., October, 1861. 
 
 Dear Helen:- I am now in the sweetest old home in Virginia, 
 the old Phillips mansion. Miss Berta came for me and brought 
 me here, and with me brought my friend, and who do jou 
 reckon that friend is? A Connecticut jankee, a Federal lieu- 
 tenant. Poor fellow! he got a terrible wound in his arm, and 
 will never use it well again. He fell into our hands, and is a 
 prisoner. He is a jolly, clever fellow, and as he and I were in 
 the same ward in the hospital, we became good friends. He 
 calls me "Johnny," and I call him "Yank." He can only use 
 one hand, and I can only use one leg. So he helps me and I 
 help him. He showed me his mother's picture, and his sister's 
 too. His father used to be in Congress with Mr. Stephens, and 
 has been a judge in his State. I think that they are rich people, 
 and from what he says I am sure that they are very refined. 
 
 I am so glad that dear papa escaped, and I hear that he is 
 recommended for a brigadier general's commission. I know 
 that he deserves it, and I am sure that he will get it. 
 
 I am going to get a furlough soon, and if I can I am going 
 to bring " Yank " with me. Roger. 
 
 Sure enough Roger got his furlough, and through 
 Mr. Stephens's influence Lieut. Bingham got a pa- 
 role. He was permitted to go to Liberty County, 
 in Georgia, and remain there till he was exchanged. 
 I am glad to tell of this, for young folks are apt to 
 think that where there is hard fighting there must 
 be personal hate; but they are much mistaken. 
 The Federals and Confederates never hated each 
 
142 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Other, and the soldiers of either side were always 
 willing to help each other, and no people were more 
 rejoiced when the war ended than those who 
 fought it through. But I have some letters of the 
 lieutenant's, in which he tells the story for him- 
 self: 
 
 " Pine Lodge," Liberty Co., Ga., October, 1863. 
 Hon. John H. Bingham, Binghamton, Conn. 
 
 Aly Honored Fat Iter: You have heard from me before doubt- 
 less, as I sent my letter through the lines just after I was cap- 
 tured. I am now at Gen. Lawson's, in Liberty County, Ga., on 
 parole. As soon as I can be exchanged I will come home. I re- 
 ceived the £20 bill of exchange before I left, and cashed it, and 
 so am supplied with funds. Thank you. With love to all and 
 high respect, I am 
 
 Yours, John H. Bingham, Jr. 
 
 To his sister: 
 
 " Pine Lodge," Liberty County, Ga., November, 1S62. 
 
 My Dear Clara: Such a series of adventures as I have had. 
 It would be a real novel if it was written out. You see at Bran- 
 dy, as we were making a charge, a Confed for whom I was 
 going with my saber sent a pistol bullet through my bridle arm. 
 My horse got away with me, and the first thing I knew I was 
 in the midst of a battalion of Confederate cavalry. Of course 
 I surrendered, and they were very kind to me. The surgeon 
 boimd up my wound and put me in the ambulance and sent me 
 toWarrenton to the hospital. In the same ward with me was 
 a young rebel. He is about my age and is as jolly as he can be. 
 He and I struck up quite a friendship. 
 
 " Well, Yank," he said, " let's be partners. You've got no 
 arm, and I have got no leg. You walk for me, and I'll cut for 
 you." 
 
IN THE HOSPITAL. I43 
 
 "Agreed," I said, "Johnny, we'll shake on that, only I can't 
 shake much now;" and so we " affiliated," as old Dr. Stiles used 
 to say. 
 
 Well, we just told all about things at home. He has a smart 
 sister, he sajs, and a good mother, and so have I. I like to 
 have had to pass in mj checks, for I was threatened with hospital 
 gangrene, but Johnnie got me out of the hospital into a nice 
 home, and Mr. Stephens got me a parole from the war office, so 
 I did not have to go to Libby. And then Johnny said I must 
 come home with him, and I got a permit to do it, and I am here. 
 
 You never saw anything like this delightful pine woods 
 home. It is delightful now in November. The sky is so blue, 
 the air is so balmy, and the woods are filled with flowers. I 
 counted twenty-five different kinds yesterday. The family are 
 Mrs. Lawson, a sweet lady about mother's age, and Miss Helen, 
 who is older than you. I tell you she's a team. Talk about 
 you yankee girls, she can beat you so far you can't see. There 
 are two hundred and fifty negroes here to be fed and clothed 
 and managed, and she is the head of all. True, she has an ex- 
 cellent manager and a faithful driver, but after all she is queen. 
 I don't think she likes me much, because I am a yankee sol- 
 dier, but I can't blame her for that. She treats me very kindiv 
 despite that. I hear I am to be exchanged next week, and I 
 will come to Binghamton in a hurry. 
 
 Your brother John II., Jr. 
 
 Roofer's letter to his father tells how thinjrs were 
 at "Pine Lodge:" 
 
 " Pine Lodge," November, 1S62. 
 
 My Dear Papa: Jack came to us in good time. I am sorry 
 
 he had to leave you, but I do not know how we could have done 
 
 without him. Yank and I left Warrenton a week ago. His 
 
 arm was still pretty bad, but the doctor thought that it was best 
 
144 "^^^^ ^°^^ ^^ GRAY. 
 
 for him to get to a milder climate, and he said I would be better 
 off also. 
 
 The Phillipses were very kind to the last, and they furnished 
 us with a good supply of nice things for our luncheons along 
 the way. We came by Richmond. We had to change cars 
 quite often; but Jack almost carried me in his arms, and without 
 serious delay we reached Fleming. Helen had come to meet 
 us, and she looked radiant in her new homespun and with her 
 palmetto hat. She looked a little askance at poor Yank, but he 
 was so pleasant he soon made a good friend of her. We came 
 in good time to " Pine Lodge," and found m.other waiting for 
 us. Old Jack met us and ?*Iammy came as fast as the poor 
 old soul could, and Yank's eyes opened when she threw her 
 arms around me and cried like a baby. 
 
 I was not hurt by the trip at all, and have been improving 
 every day. So has Yank. lie had a letter from his father 
 through the lines, sent through commissioners for the exchange 
 of prisoners, inclosing hiin a £20 Bank of England note, which 
 he turned into Confederate money at Richmond, so his wants 
 were supplied. He is very much interested and pleased Avith 
 Avhat he sees. He is a nice fellow, and while I can't make him 
 see that Ave are right, and don't try very hard, he sees in how 
 many things he has been mistaught. The negroes, especially 
 the little fellows in the quarters, keep him continually amused. 
 I will be sorry Avhen he goes, as he says he must next week. He 
 is to report at Savannah and be exchanged at Port Royal. 
 
 Things are going about as well as Ave could hope for. Mr. 
 Jones has managed admirably. He has moved all the negro 
 families from MedAvay and " LaAvson Place," and keeps there 
 only a gang of hands Avho are harvesting the rice. We made a 
 pretty good crop, Avhich Mr. Harris Avrites us is already sold to 
 the government. We are having it shipped as fast as it can be 
 brought to Fleming. 
 
IN THE HOSPITAL. I45 
 
 Mamma is quite well, as you see from her letter. I am get- 
 ting along only middling. The bone which was broken was 
 splintered a little, and the wound does not heal rapidly. I can 
 only get about with my crutches I am very thankful that it 
 it is as well with me though, you may be sure. I am glad to 
 hear you have the three stars and are now a general. I hope 
 you will give me a place on your staff. 
 
 Ever affectionately, Roger. 
 
 The winter came, and the battle of Fredericks- 
 burg was fought, but Roger could not get back to 
 the army in time to engage in it. He, however, 
 continued to improve, and in February he was en- 
 abled to report for duty, and received this pleas- 
 ant communication from the war office: 
 
 War Office. 
 
 Serg. Maj. Lawson, of the Seventy-fifth Regiment, Georgia 
 troops, is hereby promoted for gallantry on the field, and is com- 
 missioned as Second Lieut., C. S. A. He will report for duty 
 to Brig. Gen. Lawson, Jones's Division, Longstreet's Corps, A. 
 N. V. A. R. Tape, A. A. A. G. 
 
 SPECIAL ORDER NO. 75O. 
 
 Lieut. Roger Lawson is hereby assigned for staff duty on the 
 staff of Brig. Gen. Lawson, Army Northern Virginia. 
 
 A. R. Tape, A. A. A. G. 
 
 So he returned to the army and began his work 
 
 in the early spring. 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE ARMY AGAIN WINTER QUARTERS. 
 
 fHE flowers were blooming when Roger left 
 " Pine Lodge " for Virginia; the snow was on 
 the ground when he reached the camp at Guineas 
 Station. There was no fighting, save a little skir- 
 mishing now and then. The attention of the enemy- 
 was turned to Vicksburg and the western army, and 
 Gen. Lee was having a little rest. 
 
 Roger found himself in a new position, and was 
 able to write home very often. Some of his letters 
 give a picture of a camp in winter quarters. They 
 had pitched their camp in a wood, where they could 
 get shelter and fuel, and whiled away the time as 
 profitably and as pleasantly as they could. The 
 victory at Marye Heights, near Fredericksburg, in 
 December had been purchased at no small cost 
 of men, and the new recruits who came in were be- 
 ing drilled as diligently as possible to take the places 
 of the missing. Save to keep everything in trim for 
 the movements in the spring, neither Federals nor 
 
 Confederates were doing much. The officers who 
 (UG) 
 
WINTER QUARTERS, 1 47 
 
 could be spared were on furlough, and Gen. Law- 
 son had gone to Liberty for a two weeks' stay. 
 Roger wrote them all in writing to Helen: 
 
 Camp Lee, January, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Helen: I knew that I ought not to stay at home any 
 longer, but it was a great trial for me to leave you all. I had 
 spent so many pleasant hours at " Pine Lodge " that it was hard 
 for me to tear myself away. 
 
 The more I see of war, the more I hate it. When will peo- 
 ple learn to settle their difficulties like Christians.'' As we are 
 in it, we must go through with it, and I must try and do my 
 duty. 
 
 I reached here safely, just stopping long enough in Rich- 
 mond to order me a lieutenant's dress uniform, which only cost 
 me a thousand dollars. I don't expect to use it a great deal. I 
 reported at headquarters. Our brigade headquarters are in an 
 old house overlooking the wood where the brigade is camped. 
 It is comfortable enough 'for old soldiers, as we are getting to 
 be. Our fare is not the most elegant; but Jack is not a bad 
 forager, and we get along pretty well. The troops are busy 
 drilling and attending carefully to camp routine. We have our 
 dress parades every evening, and sometimes our camp is enliv- 
 ened by the faces of the wives of some of the officers of the Vir- 
 ginia soldiers. All kinds of fun is kept agoing. We have games 
 of ball and racing, and music of all kinds, from the old time fiddle 
 to tlie modern band. Whenever we have a snow there is a regu- 
 lar snow battle. The troops are drawn up in regular line. They 
 establish batteries, put out skirmishers, and have regular fusil- 
 lades. The victors roll the conquered in the snow. But the thing 
 that I most enjoy is the revival. We have preaching every night. 
 Some of the best men of all the Churches preach for us. We 
 have a Y. M. C. A., and I joined it as soon as I returned. We 
 
. 148 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 have regular camp meeting times. Mr. Lester, the Chaplain of 
 the Third Georgia; Mr. Jarrell, of the Eighteenth Georgia; Mr. 
 Dodge and Mr. Thigpen, of Colquitt's Brigade, are some of our 
 Methodist chaplains; and Messrs. Currj and MacCallum are 
 Baptists. Bishop Pierce came to see his son, and spent several 
 dajs in camp; and Bishop Elliot, of the Episcopal Church, gave 
 vis a glorious sermon. Then we have old Dr. Stiles and Dr. 
 Hoge, of the Presbyterian Church; and Dr. Jeter and Dr. Jones, 
 of the Baptist Church; and a host of others. They have glori- 
 ous singing in the meetings, and some are converted at every 
 service, and the Church doors are opened, and the soldiers say 
 what Church they wish to belong to. 
 
 Of course there is a great deal of wickedness in camp. Many 
 of our officers and men are very bad; but there is a great deal 
 of good. Our grand old general is always at service, and no 
 one ever thinks of his doing anything which one ought not to 
 do. As to old Jack, we all know how good he is. Gen. Colquitt 
 talks to his men and prays for them like a preacher, and Gen. 
 Gordon is always ready to help in the meetings. 
 
 I know that it is right hard to be good in camp. It is so hard 
 to find a place to pray; but I am glad that my tent mate, who is 
 an Episcopalian — Maj. Lanford — praj's night and morning. He 
 tries to live right, though he will say bad words sometimes when 
 he gets fretted. He says that he means no harm by it, though. 
 
 We have a capital set of fellows on our staff. Maj. Middle- 
 ton, our quartermaster, is from an old South Carolina family, 
 and is a man of fine education and excellent mind. He is the 
 jolliest fellow in the world — always in a good humor. He has 
 taken quite a iancy for me, and laughs at me for being a Meth- 
 odist; but I know that he is glad that I don't drink or gamble. 
 
 But I have little to write now. Love to all. Roger. 
 
 There are few things more monotonous than the 
 life of the camp when there is no enemy near, and 
 
WINTER QUARTERS. I49 
 
 the early days of 1863 were uneventful and weari- 
 some. The Federals were getting in new recruits, 
 and the conscripting of the whole South was send- 
 ing new men into the army to be made ready for 
 service. It became evident to even the common 
 soldier as May drew on that there was something 
 about to happen of serious kind; and so there was, 
 for the battle of Chancellorsville was fought. The 
 Confederates won the battle ; but at what a fearful 
 cost ! for Stonewall Jackson was killed, alas ! by his 
 own men, through a fearful mistake. The brigade 
 to which Roger belonged, which had been so fear- 
 fully cut up at the fight in December, was not 
 brought into this action, and he had little to write 
 except concerning the sad event which so dis- 
 tressed the whole South: 
 
 Camp Lee, May, 1S62. 
 
 Mj Dear Helen: You have heard the sad news. Gen. Jack- 
 son is dead ! You cannot imagine the shadow that it has thrown 
 over the whole army. Dear old "Jack," as we used to call him, 
 so quiet and calm and determined, so courteous to everybody, 
 so pious, so brave. It would have been sad enough for him to 
 have been killed leading his own corps to battle, but to fall by 
 a shot from one who would haA^e died for him was too sad. 
 Gen. Lee, always so calm, has an air of deep grief which is inde- 
 scribable. The victory that we have won is not a victory, now 
 that Jackson is dead. 
 
 We are getting ready now for a move northward. Of course 
 we do not know where we are going, but from the nature of the 
 preparation and the massing of the troops, I think that we are 
 
150 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 going to take the offensive, and I would not be at all surprised 
 if we find ourselves in Pennsylvania before the campaign ends. 
 Gen. Lee is anxious to end this thing. 
 
 Mr. Lincoln, you know, has issued his proclamation, and the 
 negroes are as free as he can make them, and we are now as 
 strong as we will ever be. If old Jack were at the head of his 
 corps, I would not be troubled; but alas! he is not there, and 
 there is no one to take his place. We have just received or- 
 ders to move, and I do not know when I can write jou again. 
 
 Roger, 
 
 It was a long time before he did write again. 
 Gen. Lee did advance, as he supposed that he 
 would. The battle of Gettysburg was fought, and 
 among the wounded and missing as reported in 
 the lists was Lieut. Roger Lawson, A. A. G., of 
 Lawson's Brigade. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE AMERICAN WATERLOO. 
 
 1 HAVE never been able to read without a shud- 
 ^^ der the story of Gettysburg, and those who 
 wish to hear of the terrible events of those awful 
 days must go elsewhere to find them told than to 
 these pages. I only know that when the few came 
 back from that daring and magnificent but fatal 
 charge on the second day, when the hundred 
 guns poured out their volleys of shot and shell, 
 Roger Lawson was not one of them; and 
 when Brig. Gen. Lawson gathered up the rem- 
 nants of his brigade for the retreat to Maryland 
 he had to leave his own son behind. A flajr of 
 truce, however, brought him the news that Roger, 
 with a shattered arm, was a prisoner; that his 
 wound, though serious, was not mortal. Gen. 
 Lawson himself had his horse shot under him and 
 received a slight wound, or what appeared then to 
 be a slight one, in his chest, but was not so disabled 
 as not to be able to handle his brigade. He wrote 
 
 to his wife: 
 
 Near Gettysburg, July, 1863. 
 
 Afy Dear Wife: The most fearful battle of the war is over. 
 
 You have heard the storv. I have no heart to sav more. I 
 
 (151) 
 
1^2 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 only know Gen. Lee said, "Charge the guns;" and we went 
 for them. The men never behaved better, and our boy swept 
 over the field as long as it was possible for a man to sit on 
 his horse, as calmly as he ever led a chase at home. As we 
 climbed the heights it was no longer possible to remain on 
 horseback, and he leaped from the saddle, and sword in hand 
 led the men toward the guns. I lost sight of him in the ter- 
 rible struggle. We broke through the line, we captured the 
 guns, but before we could make our victory sure the Federal 
 reserve came on, and a new battery poured a deadly fire upon 
 us, and the order came to retire. I did not know what had be- 
 come of my boy, save that Capt. Barclay said he saw him fall, 
 until this morning, when I received this note by flag of truce: 
 
 Hospital Camp, U. S A. 
 
 GcH. La-vson : Your son, Lieut. Lawson, is in our hands and 
 under my care in the hospital. He begs me to say he is not 
 mortally wounded ; his right arm is shattered and he may lose 
 it, but his life is safe. He will receive all the care we can pos- 
 sibly give him. 
 
 Yours, Thomas McLean, A$st. Sur. U.S.A. 
 
 I telegraphed you that he was wounded and a piisoner, but 
 safe. I am expecting every moment for the brigade to move 
 southward, but I can send this by one of the cavalrj- who is go- 
 ing to Virginia to-night. Roger Lawson. 
 
 Roger was removed to the hospital in the little 
 
 city of Gettysburg. There was no hope for his 
 
 right arm, which had been almost cut off by a 
 
 shell, and it was decided to amputate it at once. 
 
 His first letter was to his mother and was written by 
 
 an amanuensis: 
 
 Gettysburg Hospital, July, 1863. 
 My Darling Mother: As you see, my handwriting is im- 
 proved. The fact is I have got into the good graces of a nice 
 
THE AMERICAN WATERLOO. I53 
 
 little Pennsylvania maiden, and she is writing for me. I am 
 glad I am able to dictate a letter, for I tell you it looked once 
 like I never would write or speak again. Before I went into bat- 
 tle I raised my heart to God, and as we went into that storm of 
 shot and shell I knew no more until I fell. The brigade was 
 repulsed. I lay on the field for several hours. Some kind Fed- 
 eral going over the battlefield saw me unable to move, for my 
 old wound had left my leg so weak that in trying to mount the 
 heights, just as the shot struck my arm I fell and sprained my 
 ankle; they took me in their arms and carried me to a camp fire, 
 where one of them gave me some coffee and some hard-tack. I 
 had eaten nothing all day, and when I took the coffee and bread 
 I was refreshed. By this time the ambulance corps was com- 
 ing nigh, and one, an honest-looking "Buckeye," said: "Say, 
 lieutenant, you have a gold watch, I see. If you go to the hospital 
 with it on, it is likely you'll never see it again. Now give it to 
 me, and give me your name and address, and I will take care 
 of it for you and send it home to your folks as soon as I get a 
 chance." * The fellow looked so honest that I did not care to 
 help myself if I could, and I could not if I would, so I handed 
 it over. Maybe you'll get it or hear of it; likely not. 
 
 Well, mamma, don't be troubled about me. I am all right. 
 The doctor cut off my arm just above the elbow, but he says I 
 am doing splendidlj-. God has been very good to me, and 
 these good people of the Christian Commission are kind and 
 considerate. I do not know where I'll go after I leave here, 
 but I am likely to stay here some time yet. I know I can't go 
 anywhere that your prayers won't follow me and God will not 
 be near me. 
 
 I see in the daily papers that my old friend Bingham was dis- 
 tinguished for his gallantry, and has been promoted to a 
 captaincy. I am glad to hear of it. God bless you. 
 
 Ever your boy, Roger. 
 
 *And he did. The watch came safely as soon as communication was 
 restored. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HOSPITAL LIFE. 
 
 ^MHE sprained ankle kept Roger in bed, as the 
 -'■ severed arm necessarily kept him in his ward. 
 Many people came to the hospital. They came 
 from all sections of the North, and of course 
 Roger had all kinds of visitors. Of these some 
 were very agreeable, and some otherwise. 
 
 The persistence with which the people of the 
 United States have misunderstood and misrepre- 
 sented each other is certainly a strange fact in our 
 history, and nothing is more unwelcome to either 
 section than a true story of the character of the 
 people of the opposition. Now I am sure that, 
 Southern born as I am, and Southern bred, and 
 with nearly all my readers in the South, I should 
 gratify many of them much more than I will if I 
 were to say that all Northern people were unscru- 
 pulous, malignant, cruel, and all Southerners 
 were generous, forgiving, tender. I am sure that 
 those people who look upon " Uncle Tom's Cab- 
 in " as authentic history will not be apt to accept 
 
 such an account as this of Helen and Roger as a 
 
 (154) 
 
HOSPITAL LIFE. 155 
 
 true one. Well, I can't help that; I know the 
 mass of the Northern people were honest in their 
 belief that they were lighting for liberty, and many 
 of them kindly in their feelings toward their mis- 
 guided foes of the South; and I know that just 
 such people as Roger and Helen were found now, 
 and then in all the South, but if I were to leave 
 the impression that there were no other kind of 
 folks, North or South, I certainly would mislead; 
 and Roger found this to be true, much to his an- 
 noyance. 
 
 The Federal army was well provided with every- 
 thing, and no two parts of its equipment were more 
 valuable and praiseworthy than the Christian and 
 sanitar}"" commissions. The battle of Gettysburg 
 was no sooner over than both were on the ground, 
 and in providing for the wounded they knew no 
 distinction of uniforms ; blue and gray were alike 
 objects of care. The good women of Gettysburg 
 were, as good women are everywhere, full of 
 kindly sympathies, and a genial old maid took 
 Roger, rebel as he was, under her especial care. 
 She wrote his letters for him, brought him books 
 to read, and prepared nice dishes for him. She 
 came to see him every day. She was a great 
 Unionist, but she took her "wicked rebel," as 
 she called Roger, under her careful charge; but 
 
156 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 there were other visitors who did not look so kind- 
 ly on him. They came to his cot, and when they 
 found out he was a rebel they looked as if some 
 awful wrong had been done them by the govern- 
 ment taking care of him at all, and hurried on. 
 It was not often they said anything, but one day a 
 very smooth, oily, quick-spoken visitor from Mas- 
 sachusetts came through the hospital. He was 
 gushing over the brave defenders of the flag, and 
 copiously pouring out his words of commendation. 
 When he came to Roger's cot he evidently thought 
 him a Federal soldier, and said: "Ah! my poor 
 hero, you have, I see, given up your own brave 
 right arm in defense of our flag. What regiment 
 was yours?" 
 
 " I was a Confederate, sir." 
 
 "What? you a rebel?" 
 
 " No, sir; a Confederate soldier." 
 
 "No, sir! You were a rebel against the best 
 government the world ever saw. You lost your 
 arm, and you ought to have lost your head," he 
 said angrily. 
 
 "And you have lost yours, you dirty coward ! " 
 said the surgeon, who had just come up. " You 
 get out of this ward, or I will make the hospital 
 steward kick you out." ^ 
 
 "Why, Captain"— 
 
HOSPITAL LIFE. I57 
 
 " Not a word more, sir. No man shall be in- 
 sulted in this hospital by any one, much less by a 
 coward who does not dare to fight for his princi- 
 ples. Leave here, sir, leave." And he left. 
 
 But this was not half so annoying as an encoun- 
 ter he had with a good woman from Western New 
 York. She came to his cot, and said softly, and 
 with apparent great sincerity, when she knew who 
 he was: " Well, my 3'oung friend, I hope 3'ou are 
 prepared to die." 
 
 " Yes, I hope so, ma'am ; but I am in no special 
 hurry to do so." 
 
 " I learn you are a rebel." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; some callus so." 
 
 " Well, I hope, my 3'Oung friend, that the se- 
 vere chastisement visited on you has led you to 
 repentance." 
 
 " I fear not, ma'am." 
 
 " There are none so hopeless as those that are 
 hardened in sin. You have been fearfully guilty, 
 and your sin has found you out," 
 
 *'And ef you plase, ma'am,'" said the Irish sol- 
 dier who was in charge, " ef you plase, ma'am, the 
 docther says w^e were not to parmit the visitors to 
 talk too much to the patients." 
 
 "Well, I will obey his orders, but my conscience 
 bids me to say, young man, that ' He that being 
 
158 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly 
 be destroyed, and that without remedy.' " 
 
 She walked majestically away with the sweet 
 complacency of one who had done her full duty. 
 
 Roger was nervous and sad and lonely, and the 
 cold, hard, metallic tone of the woman's voice hurt 
 him more than he was willing to admit. Just then 
 Miss Alice, his good friend, came to make her 
 daily visit. She saw the shadow over his face, 
 and asked him what was the matter, why he 
 looked so sad? 
 
 "O, nothing," he said, with a faint smile. 
 " Yis, mom, if yez had been here whin that lady 
 phats just gone out was a preachin' to the Lieu- 
 tenant, an' callin' him a rebel an' what not, jqz 
 wouldn't be shurprized at the way he luks." 
 
 "O yes, I know her; and I am determined you 
 shan't have this bother any longer. If Dr. Mc- 
 Lean will help me (and I think he will), we will 
 have you moved to the Confederate hospital, and 
 there you will be free from annoyance." 
 
 When she spoke to the doctor, and told him of 
 the disagreeable visitors, he readily promised to 
 do as she wished, and added: "If they come 
 about that old copperhead. Dr. Sims, they will 
 catch it certain. The peppery old fellow is an 
 old army surgeon, and is not hurt by his loyalty 
 
HOSPITAL LIFE. 159 
 
 anyhow. Yes, I'll move the Lieutenant to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 So Roger was moved. It was some weeks be- 
 fore he could walk. The old wound broke out 
 again, and the old doctor insisted on an operation, 
 to which Roger cheerfully submitted. Then Roger 
 be(>-an rapidly to recover, and was soon almost 
 well. Miss Alice was as kind as she had always 
 been, but, like many good people, she was poor, 
 and Roger had no money and only such clothing 
 as the hospital supplied, and he was in no condi- 
 tion to leave it. 
 
 One day a Maryland lady visited the hospital 
 with supphes from Baltimore for the Confederates. 
 As she left Roger, after a pleasant visit, she put 
 in his hand this card: " Write to your sister, Mrs. 
 Charles Bacon, and let her know your needs." 
 This was all. When Miss Alice came she saw the 
 card. "That's the very thing," she said. "I 
 know both Lizzie Bacon and her husband, and I 
 know they are willing and able to help any of her 
 kin, but I did not know she was your sister." 
 
 "And she is not, unless she is a Methodist; for 
 I have but one sister, and that is Helen." 
 
 " Well, she is a Methodist, and as you are not 
 permitted to get help except some from your rela- 
 tions, I reckon you might call her sister." 
 
l6o THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 " Well, I must have some help, and so you may 
 write to her for me." And Miss Alice took her 
 pencil and wrote as Roger dictated. He asked 
 for a loan of $50, to be returned as soon as he 
 had reached home. In a week a check for $50 
 was received in a short note signed simply, 
 " Your Sister Lizzie." 
 
 In those days when every act was carefully 
 watched and detectives were in every corner and 
 every offer of help to a Southern soldier was looked 
 upon with suspicion, this somewhat innocent form 
 of deception was not unusual nor looked upon with 
 any special disfavor, nor did the Federal officers 
 inquire very closely as to the facts. 
 
 An overcoat and a plain suit of gray, purchased 
 with a part of the money, supplied Roger with 
 clothing, but he had no money left. Miss Alice, 
 however, Union woman as she was, moved among 
 the Southern sympathizers, who were not a few in 
 Pennsylvania, and Roger went well furnished to 
 Fort Delaware, where he was regularly enrolled 
 as a prisoner. He managed to get several short, 
 cheery letters through the lines which brought re- 
 lief to the burdened hearts at " Pine Lodge." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "pine lodge" again. 
 
 TfF I did not give my young readers frequent 
 ■*■ glimpses of home life in these trying days, I 
 should very sadly fail in my purpose, which is to 
 show how the days through which the whole coun- 
 try passed in these years of conflict developed 
 character. The men who were old enough to fight 
 were ordered to the front, and upon the women 
 and older men and children fell all the burden of 
 providing for those at home and in the army. 
 
 The cutting off of the interior of the country 
 from all foreign supplies made it necessary for 
 everything to be produced at home. Mr. Jones 
 had decided that after the rice crop of 1863 was 
 harvested it would be impossible to make another, 
 and so he had removed all the negroes from the 
 coast to the pine woods. The home guard kept up a 
 constant patrol and protected the farms which were 
 out of reach of the gunboats. Those on the rivers 
 were abandoned. There were no Federal forces 
 nearer than Port Royal and Fort Pulaski, but the 
 island and the coast were exposed to attack and 
 devastation at any time. The necessity of the 
 11 (161) 
 
l62 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 times led the planters to turn everything in the di- 
 rection of food production. 
 
 Helen had been director general of everything 
 at "Pine Lodge," but Mr. Jones now relieved 
 her and took charge of the large plantation. Still 
 she had much to do, and did what no one thought 
 she could do. Her father was m.ore than ever con- 
 cerned about home, and Helen wrote him very fully 
 
 of what she was trying to have done: 
 
 December, 1S63. 
 
 My Dear Papa: As jou suggested, Mr. Jones decided to 
 move everything from " Lawson Place " and Medwaj', and for the 
 tiine abandon anj effort to plant another crop of rice. He has 
 rented four hundred acres of his brother's place, asid expects to 
 plant the swamp field in upland rice. We expect to put twenty 
 acres in potatoes, and forty acres in ground peas for tlie hogs. 
 All the newly cleared land we will put in peas. I had ihe acres 
 in turnips, and with one of our large sirup kettles we managed 
 to make a good soup for the little negroes e^'ery day. Our po- 
 tato crop was good, and they arc keeping well and help us out 
 greatly. We find that while we cannot feed the people like we 
 did, yet they have an abundance of rice and potatoes and sirup. 
 We manage to supply them with meat at least twice a week. 
 I write you this particularly-, because I know you are so inter- 
 ested in these facts. 
 
 Young Bob and Stumpy Bill ran away and were caught by 
 the home guard and brought home. You know Bob has a wife 
 and eight children, and Bill has a family as large. They ex- 
 pected me to turn them over for punishment to Mr. Jones, but 
 I said to them: " Now, boys, if 3'ou want to go to the yankees, 
 g^o; but you must take your families. If you can take care of 
 them better than wc can, take Ihcm. I am willing. I am not 
 
''PINE lodge" again. - 163 
 
 going to have ]SIr. Jones punish you, but I don't want to seejou 
 on this place after to-night unless you are going to behave 
 properly-, and the first time you do wrong again I am going to 
 drive you and your families off the place." They were very 
 penitent, and I don't think will leave again. 
 
 We heard from Roger. He could only write a line. He was 
 cheerful and well. Mamma sends much love. Helen. 
 
 The people at home were put up to all they could 
 do, but the South is so generous in her gifts to the 
 laborer that subsistence is only impossible to the 
 absolutely idle. They had no flour, but the}^ had 
 rice. The rice mills were out of reach, and they 
 pounded the rice in mortars. The wax myrtle and 
 tallow gave them candles. The sugar cane patch 
 gave them sugar and sirup. The cotton fields 
 gave them material for clothing. The negroes 
 could not get leather for shoes, but the climate 
 was so mild they did not need them. The old 
 women carded cotton and wool, and the young 
 women spun it and wove it into cloth, and so the 
 little colony was supplied ; and one-tenth of all was 
 sent to the army to help to supply it with stores. 
 
 Helen still attended her Sunday school regular- 
 ly, and still managed it almost alone. The good 
 mother bore the burden of unceasing anxiety, but 
 lived in the atmosphere of trust and prayer. The 
 few neighbors who were left were very kind, and 
 did what they could to help, but the burdens fell 
 on all alike. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PRISON LIFE. 
 
 ^H^HERE is little pleasure to me in telling of any- 
 -*■ thing connected with the fratricidal strife be- 
 tween the States; but sad as it was, it was — and 
 we need not try (for we cannot do so) to blot the 
 story out. But of all its chapters there are none 
 which to me are so painful as those that tell of 
 prison life. It is impossible to make such a life 
 agreeable, but, alas ! many things were done and 
 left undone by both sides to make it worse than 
 it ought to have been, and then, perhaps, parti- 
 san hate has added to the story its usual exagger- 
 ations. I do not think it is a fit thing for either 
 side to reproach the other. For every act of op- 
 pression in Andersonville or Libby Prison a like 
 act just as indefensible can be found in Elmira 
 and Fort Delaware and Johnson's Island. Why 
 prisoners were not exchanged and much suffering 
 avoided is a question we need not open here, but 
 when Roger came to Fort Delaware the exchange 
 had ceased, and there was nothing before him but 
 
 to wait till the end. 
 (164) 
 
PRISON LIFE. 165 
 
 There had been, as there always is in times of 
 war, questions about the treatment of prisoners 
 which each side answered to suit itself; and in or- 
 der to punish the guilty, the two governments de- 
 cided to punish the innocent. They called this 
 retaliation, and it was sufficiently cruel and diabol- 
 ical to be called anything, and to both governments 
 was a blot of darkest dye. 
 
 Fort Delaware was now under the charge of a 
 brutal German named Schoef, who was willing to 
 go beyond even his orders in punishing the poor 
 prisoners under his charge. On a little island, a 
 treeless sand bed in the Delaware bay where the 
 Brandywine empties into it, was this large fort, 
 intended as a defense to the city of Philadelphia, 
 sixty miles away. On this island barracks had 
 been erected. They were of thin boards, hot in 
 summer and fearfully cold in winter. Here the 
 prisoners were divided into companies and messes 
 and placed under guard. The officers were in 
 one set of barracks and the privates in another. 
 The whole was in command of the German colonel 
 and the various companies under the command of 
 subalterns. Escape was almost impossible, for 
 deep water was on every side. The officers in the 
 barracks were divided into messes, and were fur- 
 nished from the commissary departm.ent with a 
 
l66 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 meager supply of unpalatable food, and in winter 
 a very small quantity of fuel and a very limited 
 amount of clothing and bedding. The prisoners 
 made the best of the situation. They had religious 
 services, gave concerts, had court for the trial of 
 offenders, had their trading booths, sold fried rats, 
 catfish, and ginger cake, and, alas! gambled in 
 every possible way. 
 
 The details of personal suffering and needless 
 cruelty at last came to the ears of Col. Thruston. 
 Member of Congress from Ohio, whose nephew 
 was in prison. He had an interview with Mr. Lin- 
 coln. The kindly heart of the President was much 
 moved by his stor}^ of the sufferings of the prisoner, 
 and he sent for Mr. Stanton. When the Secretary 
 came he told him what he had heard and told him 
 to order the officer commanding to abate his rigor- 
 ous treatment. " Now, Mr. Secretary, the war is 
 awful enough, and these deluded people are suf- 
 fering enough without any needless cruelty, and I 
 want you to detail some young American officers 
 and put them in charge of the prisoners, good 
 men and firm men, but not tyrants." The Secre- 
 tary v/as in no very good humor; but the matter 
 was settled ; and so Capt. Cinghara, of the Eleventh 
 Connecticut, was ordered to report at the fort and 
 assist in the work of caring for the prisoners. 
 
PRISON LIFE. . 167 
 
 When he looked over the list of prisoners commit- 
 ted to his charge he was startled to see the name 
 of his old associate in the hospital at Warrenton. 
 As soon as all his office affairs had been properly 
 settled, he called his orderly and giving him a 
 card with the name of Lieut. Roger Lawson on 
 it, he gave him an order to request that Confeder- 
 ate officer to report at headquarters. Roger did 
 not know the new commandant, and was much 
 puzzled at the request, but at once accompanied 
 the orderly. He was taken into the presence of 
 the Captain. 
 
 "You can now retire, orderly, and close my 
 door, and allow no one to disturb me for half an 
 hour." 
 
 The orderly gave his salute and took his place 
 at the door. 
 
 Roger did not at first recognize his friend. 
 The pale-faced youth of two years before, dressed 
 then in citizen's clothes, and the bronzed, mus- 
 tached, uniformed soldier of to-day were not 
 much alike. The Captain rose, and stepping to 
 the door locked it, and quickly removed his coat. 
 He stretched out a bare arm, and simply said: 
 " See that, Johnny?" 
 
 A bright smile crossed the face of the prisoner 
 as he stretched out his left hand and grasped the 
 
l68 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 extended. "Yes, Yank; and I am glad to see 
 you had better luck than I did." 
 
 The two friends had a royal time for the half- 
 hour, and then Capt. Bingham said to his friend: 
 " Now, Johnny, you know how I am situated, 
 but anything I can do for you I will do. If you 
 choose to take a place in the commissary depart- 
 ment, I can give it to you." 
 
 " No, I am obliged to you. I prefer not to leave 
 my messmates, but I am as grateful to you as if I 
 were to accept your kindness." 
 
 " Well, I don't blame you for not leaving them. 
 I am aware of some things here which need cor- 
 rection, and you can assure your fellow-prisoners 
 that while I will strictly regard orders from head- 
 quarters I will do all I can to prevent any abuse 
 of them." 
 
 The half-hour was soon gone. As Roger rose 
 to go his friend handed him five crisp ten-dollar 
 greenbacks and said: " Take this as a loan." 
 
 Roger hesitated ; but, remembering that it 
 was foolish pride that would not allow a friend 
 to do a favor for one when he was in need, he 
 accepted. 
 
 There was no indication when the Captain in- 
 spected the camp and came to the company of 
 which Roger was one that he knew the prisoner; 
 
PRISON LIFE. 169 
 
 nor did Roger allow any one to know that the 
 captain in charge was his friend. 
 
 He still kept up his correspondence with Miss 
 Alice and Mrs. Bacon. Among his associate 
 prisoners was Gen. Forney, of Alabama. He 
 had known Gen. Lawson in the army, and soon 
 had a tender regard for his son. One day he said 
 to him: "Lawson, study law. Get a 'Black- 
 stone' and I'll be your preceptor." 
 
 "Agreed," said Roger. 
 
 So " Blackstone " with other books was secured 
 from Judge Bingham's through his son, and Roger 
 began his studies. Months came and went. The 
 daily papers told of Gen. Grant's persistent and 
 futile efforts to get to Richmond, of the fall of 
 Atlanta, and the siege of Petersburg; and poor . 
 Roger like a caged lion had to hear the story and 
 feel the vain longing to be where he could do 
 something for the cause. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WAVE UPON WAVE. 
 
 ^i,mHE lines of Grant v;ere getting nearer and 
 ^' nearer to Richmond, but the grand general- 
 ship of Lee had kept the great captain who had 
 won in every other field still out of the Confeder- 
 ate capital. Gen. Lawson's brigade was in front 
 of Gen. Butler, who was mining away under the 
 intrenchment which he could not carry by assault. 
 The prisoners at Fort Delaware, comprising some 
 of the brightest officers of the armiy, were still 
 making the best of the situation. Roger was still 
 diligently at work on his law books, and Gen. For- 
 ney was giving him careful instructions. Every 
 month he received a letter without signature, in- 
 closing ten dollars. The mess table was now well 
 spread; and but for the terrible suspense and the 
 exile from home the life of the imprisoned officers 
 would have been tolerable. They received the 
 New York and Philadelphia papers every day, and 
 kept up with the news from the front. On the ist 
 of August, when the Philadelphia Press was 
 brought to the camp, Roger saw in blazing head- 
 
 (i:o) 
 
WAVE UPON WAVE. I^I 
 
 lines: "The mine sprung. Terrific slaughter of 
 Confederates, Heavy loss of Federals. Over- 
 powered by numbers, the Federals retire. Gen. 
 Lawson, rebel brigadier, killed on the field." 
 The heart of the poor fellow sunk, and he fell on 
 his cot with his face buried in his pillow. Gen. 
 Forney stood kindly by and finally laid his hand 
 on his shoulder and said: " Lawson, this news 
 may not be true. I doubt if it is. It is not likely 
 that the reporter could have knovv^n certainly. 
 Don't give up hope." 
 
 The orderly came at that moment. " Order 
 for Lieut. Lawson from the Captain," he said. 
 
 Roger rose and wiped the tears from his eyes 
 and accompanied the orderly. 
 
 When they were alone Capt. Bingham said: 
 ** Roger, there is no certainty in this repoi't. Wait 
 till you hear more direct^, I have a friend on 
 Butler's staff. I will wire him, and he vnli be able 
 to remove your doubt. Cheer up and hope on." 
 
 It was about nightfall when the same orderly 
 came with the same order, and when Roger 
 reached his friend's office he handed him a dis- 
 patch : 
 
 Flag of truce just returned. Gen. Lawson not dead; wound- 
 ed severely, but not fatally. Jenks. 
 
 The mail a few^ days later brought a letter from 
 
172 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 his father through the flag of truce. It told him that 
 his father was wounded in the shoulder, and that 
 he would be disabled from service for some time ; 
 that he would return home on leave of absence. 
 
 The heart of the noble son rose in gratitude to 
 God as he carried the good news to the affection- 
 ate friends of his mess. 
 
 Gen. Lawson left for home a week after he was 
 wounded, and reached "Pine Lodge" safely. 
 The wound he had received was severe, but not 
 dangerous ; and while it kept him confined to his 
 house, it did not prevent him from attending to his 
 business matters, which had become complicated 
 during his long absence. He realized that matters 
 were drawing toward a crisis, and perhaps there 
 was to be an end which was not looked for. For 
 years his overseer had left in his hands the money 
 he did not need for expenses, and during these 
 three years he had received no salary. The Gen- 
 eral had not been willing to offer him Confederate 
 money, depreciated currency as it was, in payment 
 of a debt incurred when gold and silver were the 
 standards, and so the matter was unsettled. After 
 he had been at home for two weeks he sent for his 
 overseer, and said to him: " Mr. Jones, we have 
 had no settlement since the war began, and it is 
 time we are having one." 
 
WAVE UPON WAVE. 1 73 
 
 " Well, General, I hain't worried about that. I 
 am willing for it to go on as it has been a gwine." 
 
 "No. I don't know how this war is going to 
 end, and I do not know, if I get over this wound 
 and get back to the army, but that I'll be less for- 
 tunate next time. I have no gold, I will not pay 
 you in Confederate money, and I don't wish to 
 leave you unsecured. I owed you at the begin- 
 ning of the war $i,ooo in gold. Your salary has 
 been $500 a year, and there are three years unpaid. 
 This will, with the interest, make about $3,000 I 
 owe you now — just what this place cost. I am go- 
 ing to give you a deed to it. If I live, and things 
 go right, I will pay you in good money after the 
 war, or when you wish it, but I would feel better 
 to know you were secure now." 
 
 "Well, suit yourself. General. I hain't scairt 
 any way. I know you'll do right, and ef you go 
 up we is all gone up." 
 
 The papers were drawn and the deed put on 
 record. The skies grew darker. Sherman started 
 in November on his march to the sea. There was 
 no one to oppose him, as he well knew when he 
 began it. He ravaged as he marched, and deso- 
 lation remained behind him. It was evident that 
 he aimed to strike the Atlantic and Gulf railroad 
 as he had done the Central and Georgia, and de- 
 
174 ^^^^ ^°^' ^"^ GRAY. 
 
 stroy it as he had done the others. It was not 
 likel}'', if the army came near " Pine Lodge," that 
 they would fail to visit it. Gen. Lawson was in 
 no condition to fly anywhere. The blow he had 
 received on the chest at Gettysburg had left him 
 with a cough which was sometimes alarming, and 
 his wound had not healed rapidly. Roger's im- 
 prisonment, the unhappy condition of public af- 
 fairs, the necessities of his people who had to be 
 provided for, had burdened him greatly and re- 
 tarded his recover}^ When he had reason to ex- 
 pect a visit from the 3'ankees, he called old Jack 
 into his confidence. The old man was to keep 
 guard and let him know when the yankees were in 
 sight. Young Jack was to keep his horse always 
 ready for him, and a place of refuge was to be pro- 
 vided in the swamp, and a bridleway made to it, 
 and a palmetto-covered tent made for his protec- 
 tion. There were none, save Helen and her moth- 
 er, old Jack and 3'oung Jack, who knew of this 
 provision. Bob, the butler, was a favorite and 
 trusted servant; and the General, with Bob and old 
 Jack, went out into the pine wood back of the 
 house and carefully buried a trunk containing val- 
 uable papers, the jewels, and the family plate. 
 
 The Federals drew nearer and nearer. The 
 main army went down the Central road and a de- 
 
WAVE UPON Vv'AVE. 1^5 
 
 tachment of cavalry came through Liberty. Old 
 Jack was at work in the field when he saw the 
 bluecoats coming toward the house. He came 
 out to the fence to meet them. They were so ac- 
 customed to glad greetings from the negroes, who 
 looked upon them as their deliverers from bondage, 
 that they were not at all surprised at the warm 
 greeting of the old man: "Well, massa, you's 
 here at las'. Is been lookin' fur you long time. 
 Heap niggahs round here look fur you." 
 
 " Who is your master? " 
 
 " My m.aster ? Yes, sar, he named Mr. William 
 Barnwell Smith, sir." 
 
 " Is there a Gen. Lawson living near here? " 
 
 " O yes, sar; Gen. Lawson Hb down dat road 
 about tree mile, sah. He be home. I seed him 
 jnsterday." 
 
 " Why, I thought they told us this was the way 
 to his house." 
 
 " No, massa, I know de way. I go up to de 
 house and git my mule. I go wid you and show 
 you where he lib." 
 
 " Well, be quick about it." 
 
 " Yes, Massa; I be back in tree minute." 
 
 So Jack ran to the house. His master knew, as 
 he saw him running, what it meant, and he was 
 out of the back door, and in a full gallop to the 
 
176 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 swamp, in a moment. Young Jack clashed away 
 on a horse in the other direction. He had on a 
 gray coat, and when the Federals caught sight of 
 him they put out in pvn-suit. He stopped as they 
 fired the first shot, and they brought him to the 
 captain. " Who do you belong to, sir? " 
 
 " Gin. Lawson, sah." 
 
 " Where does he live? " 
 
 " Right up dar, sah." 
 
 " Is he at home? "' 
 
 "No, sah; he ain't been at home dese tree 
 weeks." 
 
 " You lie, sir; he was at home this morning." 
 
 "Well, sah; maybe so. I ain't seen him." 
 
 " Where were you going? " 
 
 " Going to find de Unions, and git free." 
 
 "Where is that old nigger who said he would 
 be back in three minutes?" 
 
 "O, dat old fool Jack? He don't know his own 
 massa." 
 
 " Well, 3^ou take us to your master's." 
 
 "Yes, sah; dis way." 
 
 The negroes heard that the yankees had come, 
 and they came running to meet them; Lean Bill, 
 Stumpy Tom, Yellow Dick, and all the hosts. 
 Old Aunt Judy and Mammy did not stir, and old 
 Jack was nowhere to be found; but young Jack 
 
WAVE UPON WAVE. 1 77 
 
 was the most delighted of all the gang. The bird 
 had flown. The captain of the raiders came in. 
 He was courteous to the ladies, but he was anxious 
 to capture the brigadier. *' Gen. Lawson lives 
 here?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 *' Is he at home? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " I do not know, sir." 
 
 " When was he here last? " 
 
 "I decline to tell." 
 
 " I must search the house." 
 
 " Certainly, sir; you can do so." 
 
 The search was thorough. A search for new 
 horse tracks was made, and they were in abun- 
 dance, but they went every way. Old Jack was 
 too wary to be caught that easy. At last they pre- 
 pared to leave. They had all the stock gathered 
 up (horses, mules, cows, calves, and everything 
 that could be driven), and then told all the negroes 
 who wished to go that they could go to the camp 
 or elsewhere, and then left. Most of the negroes 
 went, and, to the sorrow and astonishment of the 
 mistress, the most delighted wei'e young Jack and 
 Bob. 
 
 That night some of the troopers, after they had 
 12 
 
178 THE BOV IN GRAY. 
 
 given Bob a good supper and several drinks of 
 whisky from their canteens, took him aside, 
 and said: " Now, my friend, if you want to make 
 some money, tell us where you hid your master's 
 mone}', and we'll divide with you." 
 
 "Well, sah; I don't know as how Mas Roger 
 buried no money, but he buried a trunk; what he 
 got in 'em I dunno." 
 
 "Can you find it?" 
 
 "Yes, sah; I specks so." 
 
 " Well, now, don't you tell nobody; you go with 
 us there." 
 
 "Yes, sah." 
 
 So at midnight they went for the buried treas- 
 ure. The faithful Bob took them to the spot 
 where he had assisted in burying the trunk. It 
 vjas not there! The troopers cursed him and 
 kicked him and threatened to kill him, but he 
 said truly he did not know where the trunk was. 
 They could see that it had been there, and becam.e 
 convinced that he was not playing them false. 
 The general was safe in his hiding place, and old 
 Jack had made provision for what might come. 
 He had a bed of pine straw, a warm supper of 
 fried meat and corn hoecake, and kept watch 
 while his wounded master rested. He knew the 
 house would be watched, and he made himself in- 
 
WAVE UPON WAVE. 1 79 
 
 visible. At midnight of the second night he 
 glided up to his cabin to tell his old wife the news 
 to take to her mistress. It was two weeks before 
 the last of the cavalry was gone, and during that 
 time the General only left his lodging at midnight. 
 " Lawson Place" was burned to the ground. 
 There was only left some rough rice and potatoes 
 for the negroes. The most of them went to the 
 camp, but many of them returned after the raiders 
 left; one who came back brought a few pounds of 
 coffee for " ole miss." Bob, the traitor, never 
 came back, but Jack came up with two good 
 mules he had stolen from the yankees. The rice 
 cut from the uplands was not yet threshed, and 
 when the negroes returned all hands were put to 
 gathering potatoes, threshing rice, and picking 
 ground peas. There was a quantity of cowpeas 
 still ungathered in the fields, and some cattle and 
 hogs in the swamp w^hich the raiders failed to get; 
 and that supply, with a few bags of long cotton 
 which were hidden away and which they did not 
 find, was all that was left. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 FREE AT LAST. 
 
 fHE march of Sherman toward the sea was 
 duly heralded by the Northern press, and 
 when he reached Savannah the full story of his 
 wonderful exploit was told in flaming letters. 
 Without a single regiment of veteran soldiers to op- 
 pose him, he had marched triumphantly to the coast. 
 The story of homes devastated, of plantations 
 ravaged, slaves freed, stock captured, houses 
 burned, railways torn up, was pleasant reading in 
 these w^ild times to the people of the North, who 
 had begun to fear that the war would never end. 
 
 As poor Roger read these accounts he was mis- 
 erable. He knew that the army must have struck 
 the Atlantic and Gulf railroad not far from where 
 his father's home was. But had his father been 
 captured? What had become of his mother and 
 Helen? The anxiety told upon him, and his noble 
 foe could not but see it. So Capt. Bingham re- 
 solved that if it was in his power to get Roger re- 
 leased on parole it should be done. He knew that 
 
 his father and Mr. Lincoln were great friends, and 
 (180) 
 
FREE AT LAST. l8l 
 
 he felt assured that all Mr. Lincoln could do he 
 would do. So he wrote to his father. He told 
 of how Roger in all probability had saved his life, 
 of how seriously he had been injured, and of the 
 needlessness of keeping longer in prison one who 
 could do no military service. 
 
 Judge Bingham, stern man as he was, and with 
 no warm place in his heart for a people who had 
 brought, as he thought, such needless woe on the 
 country, had a kindly heart, and his brave boy was 
 dearer to him than life, and when his gentle daugh- 
 ter and loving wife said, " Go," he resolved to go, 
 and he took the next train from Binghamton to 
 Washington. He met Mr. Lincoln, stated his case, 
 and the President did not hesitate a moment, but 
 wrote to the Secretary of War to furnish Judge 
 Bingham the needful authority to secure for Lieut. 
 Roger Lawson, prisoner of war at Fort Delaware, 
 a parole of honor of indefinite length, and to fur- 
 nish him transportation to Savannah. 
 
 Roger had no idea of what was in store when 
 the orderly came for him to report again at head- 
 quarters. As he entered the room his friend dis- 
 missed the orderly, and said: "Lieut. Lawson, let 
 me introduce you to my father." 
 
 The old Judge stretched out his hand pleasantly, 
 and then said, " I have something for you," and 
 
152 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 handed him the order that the Secretary of War 
 had given him. 
 
 The poor boy was overcome, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 The Judge wiped his eyes as he said: " Well, I 
 don't reckon that you are anxious to stay here any 
 longer than you are obliged to, and as the boat 
 starts in an hour we will go together to New York, 
 from which place there is a transport going to start 
 for Savannah in a very short time." 
 
 Roger pressed the hand of his noble friend, and 
 hurried to his quarters, bade farewell to his com- 
 rades, and was soon on his wa}' to New York. 
 The old Judge left him at the Astor House, where 
 he usually stopped, having paid his bill for the 
 time that he must wait, and went back to his home 
 in Connecticut angrier than ever with the fire eaters 
 w^ho had brought on the war. 
 
 Capt. Bingham had not been forgetful that Roger 
 might need funds, and had supplied him with v;hat 
 was necessary. 
 
 Roger knew that a Confederate was not in 
 high favor in New York about that time, and did 
 not make himself prominent. He was not will- 
 ing to conceal his true character, but not dis- 
 posed to advertise himself. He spent in his room 
 the two days that he was waiting for the steamer, 
 
FREE AT LAST. 183 
 
 except as he appeared in citizen's clothes at the 
 table. He noticed a rough, gray-bearded old fel- 
 low sitting close to him and e3"ing him very sharply. 
 And the day before he sailed, after dinner, he was 
 in his room when he heard a knock at his door. 
 He went to it, and saw the old man. He came in, 
 at Roger's invitation, and took a seat. Looking 
 cautiously around, he said, in rather a hoarse whis- 
 per: " Look here, young man, hain't you a Con- 
 fed?" 
 
 - Roger smiled, and said: "Yes; I am a paroled 
 prisoner going home from Fort Delaware." 
 
 " Well, I am Jim Anderson, once from Pike 
 County, Missouri, but now from Santa Rosy, Cal- 
 iforny, and did not know but that you was a tryin' 
 to git away from 'em, and I'll be blessed if I 
 weren't gv^'ine to help ye." 
 
 " No; I am a paroled prisoner, and have my pa- 
 pers'." 
 
 " Well, I've got ten gold eagles here what's 
 been a waitin' to fly to some Confed's pocket, 
 and these is yours." 
 
 " I thank you, and I can't refuse to take them, 
 for I know my father was on Sherman's hne, and 
 I fear the family and the people are greatly desti- 
 tute." 
 
 Well, I can't repeat what old Jim said. His 
 
184 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 language was more emphatic than pious, but 
 shortly he said: "Well, I mout git you into 
 trouble, or you mout git me into trouble. Good- 
 bye, boy, and hurrah for Jeff Davis and the Con- 
 federacy! " The old man left his new friend. 
 
 The next afternoon the steamer turned her face 
 southward, and in three days Roger had reached 
 Savannah. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 tEN. LAWSON was safe from capture after 
 Sherman had marched from Savannah, but 
 his exposure to the chilling weather of December 
 had brought on a severe attack of pneumonia, 
 which had left him greatly weakened and with a 
 fearful cough. It became evident to him and to 
 all that his last campaign was nearing its end. 
 He had made good preparation for that end, and 
 the ministrations of his sweet, Christian wife and 
 dear daughter made the evening as bright as it 
 could be. But O for Roger! Could he but see 
 him once more. He had no word from him for a 
 month, and yet he could not but look toward the 
 door as if hoping his boy would enter it. He was 
 decHning rapidly, that was evident. Wife and 
 child and friend alike knew that the stronsf man 
 was now near his end. The mind was bright, the 
 heart was brave, but the poor body was no longer 
 a fit tenement for the man. When Roger reached 
 Savannah he found every railway torn up, no 
 
 steamer going southward, and his only hope of 
 
 (185) 
 
1 86 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 reaching home was to buy a mule and to ride 
 through the country. He was able to make the 
 purchase without difficulty, and began his weari- 
 some journey. He was fifty miles from home, and 
 night was near at hand before he could begin his 
 journey, but as soon as it was possible he started 
 homeward. All night long he rode. The next 
 morning he was still ten miles awa}^ from home. 
 The mule was weary, but the rider forgot he 
 could get weary himself. He stopped at a house 
 long enough to give his mule some food and eat 
 a morsel himself, and then began his journey 
 again. He was slowly making his way over the 
 sand beds when he heard a voice that he thought 
 he knew, of one who was giving out a hymn and 
 singing the words he repeated. He had often 
 heard Jack sing. Jack was so absorbed in his 
 song that he did not notice the stranger who had 
 just caught sight of him until they were face to 
 face, and Roger said: "Jack! Jack! " 
 
 "Lord, have messy! Lord, have messy! A 
 spirit, a spirit! Mass Roger's spirit." He was 
 too frightened to run, but he covered his eyes in 
 terror. 
 
 "Jack, don't you know me? I am not dead. 
 I am no spirit." 
 
 " Mass Roger, is 3'ou sure you's not dead?" 
 
MIDNIGHT. 187 
 
 ** Feel my hand and see, Jack." 
 
 " Bless de Lord ! Bless de Lord ! Mass Roger, 
 you's come in time. Ole Massa is still a libbin." 
 
 "Jack, get off your mule and take mine. I 
 must not wait." 
 
 Jack dismounted and Roger put the young mule 
 up to his best speed. Before he reached his home, 
 however, he realized the wisdom of preparing 
 them for his coming, and so he restrained his 
 eagerness and paused long enough at Mrs. John 
 Jones's to get her to go before him. 
 
 Well, I cannot lift the veil, I cannot describe 
 the meeting. The brave soldier as he sat in the 
 warm sunshine of later January, looking for death 
 with a fearless eye, now looked upon the face of 
 him he had not hoped to see again in this world. 
 
 A week afterward a sad company surrounded 
 the grave at the old Med way Church, where be- 
 side his ancestors Gen. Lawson was laid to sleep. 
 He had passed over the river to rest under the 
 shade of the trees. The night before he passed, 
 he said: "I have lost all but my religion." As 
 death came his mind wandered a little and he was 
 ordering his troops in battle, and then joyously 
 said, *' We've won, we've won," and sunk to 
 sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BEGINNING ANEW. 
 
 ^^HE almost heart-broken wife leaned upon the 
 ^ remaining arm of her loving boy as she walked 
 sadly from the old graveyard where for more than 
 a hundred years her kinspeople had been laid 
 away. The family carriage had been left by the 
 raiders, and in it the sad family made their way 
 back to their pine woods home. 
 
 The troubles of life are sometimes unmixed evil, 
 and men and women are sometimes turned to stone 
 by them ; but there are those who suffer and are 
 blessed, for they look through ever}^ cloud and see 
 the light, and thus did the saintly woman ; and to 
 such as she was trials are only tonics to the soul. 
 They learn to rejoice while they weep. 
 
 Helen and Roger were young and brave, and 
 their tender love for their mother kept them from 
 idle lamentation. " Lawson Place " was in ashes, 
 its chimneys as thousands of others stood as monu- 
 ments of the needless cruelty of a pitiless soldier to 
 a helpless people, and all that the family owned was 
 
 swept away. Roger felt that he was now to face 
 
 (188) 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. 189 - 
 
 another foe more fearful than any he had met be- 
 fore. The land about him was desolate, a great 
 social revolution was impending. He had girded 
 himself for the conflict. Mr. Jones, whom his 
 father had trusted so fully, and whom he had 
 found so faithful, was still manager. Roger 
 and Helen, however, decided that some imme- 
 diate change must be made, and Mr. Jones was 
 called into consultation. The case was a some- 
 what alarming one. Two hundred and fifty ne- 
 groes were to be fed, and there was no corn 
 or bacon, and but a small supply of rice, with 
 which to feed them. Something must be done, 
 and at once, or they would starve. To farm when 
 there were no mules or plow horses was impossi- 
 ble. To attempt to make another crop where they 
 were was folly. 
 
 Mr. Jones said: "Well, Mr. Roger and Miss . 
 Helen, its no use to say we is in a bad fix — a kind 
 of delemmer, as Parson Prescott used to say — and 
 we can't do nothin' but do the best we kin. So I've 
 been a thinkin' that we had better git the hands back 
 to ' Lawson Place' as soon as possible. Their 
 cabins is left ; them yanks never left nothin' but the 
 graveyard and the nigger houses. The niggers all 
 know how to make rice with a hoe, and while we 
 can't do much for 'em, they is less likely to starve 
 
ipO THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 down on Medway and the salts than here. The fact 
 is, them j^anks are obleeged to feed these niggers. 
 We can't do it. Now if you think the nigger ain't 
 gwine to be free, you've got some property yit, 
 but, to my seein', a nigger hain't worth more than 
 a poor white man, and a powerful onery one at 
 that." 
 
 " I fully agree with you, Mr. Jones, and I think 
 we had better begin the move at once. The peo- 
 ple may run away to the Sea Islands and the army 
 at Savannah, but better that than starvation," 
 
 So all the slaves were sent to their old home, 
 except a few who were left at " Pine Lodge." 
 Mr. Jones turned them over at " Lawson Place " 
 to their respective drivers, and returned to his 
 home in the pine woods. Roger sent them every 
 week from the rapidly exhausting granary what 
 food he could, but it was evident that this could 
 not continue long. The effort to make anything 
 more than a small crop of provisions was aban- 
 doned, and the famil}'- was reduced to the neces- 
 sity of living in the narrowest way. The parched 
 potato gave them a substitute for coffee; rice 
 and sweet potatoes were the breadstuff. A little 
 bacon was scantily dealt out once or twice a week, 
 and there was a chicken now and then, a catfish 
 caught by old Jack in his trap, a mess of bream 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. I9I 
 
 caught by Roger in the pond near by, and so tha 
 family was kept from real want; but tliere was 
 great stringency and much privation. 
 
 At last it was all over. Gen. Lee surrendered. 
 A few weeks afterwards Johnston followed, 
 and then the collapse came. Roger was not sur- 
 prised when it did. "Thank God! " Roger said 
 when he heard it, "the negroes won't starve 
 now." 
 
 " Well, maybe they will not. They freed them ; 
 now they will feed them." 
 
 Old Jack, young Jack, Aunt Jud^, and Chloe 
 only now remained on the place. The mule Roger 
 had bought and the two mules Jack had confiscated 
 were the stock which was left behind, and now 
 there was coming into harvest a field of oats, which 
 with the rice straw and pea vines, furnished suffi- 
 cient forage to keep them in working order. Two 
 bags of what is called in the South "long cotton," 
 a variety of that which is known as " Sea Island," 
 had escaped the torch by being hid in the swamp, 
 and Roger with young Jack went to Savannah on 
 the wagon to dispose of them. They brought a 
 very large price. The two bags, weighing six hun- 
 dred pounds, brought $500, which Roger received 
 in greenbacks, but when people had been payin^r 
 $30 per yard for calico and $30 a pound for coffee, 
 
T92 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 to buy calico for thirty cents and bacon for twenty 
 cents and coffee for fifty cents seemed almost 
 cheap. He bought a cask of bacon, some flour, 
 loaf sugar, delicious tea, and articles necessary for 
 the ladies' apparel, and the wagon as heavily loaded 
 as was safe returned to the place. The negroes 
 on the plantation reported to the Freedman's Bu- 
 reau, and had rations issued until they could get a 
 crop made. 
 
 When Roger began to look into the condition of 
 his father's affairs, he found that he was a penni- 
 less heir. 
 
 There was the Medway property, devastated 
 and mortgaged to its full value ; the " Pine Grove " 
 property, devastated and mortgaged to its full 
 value; the Rosevelt Factory stock, worthless; the 
 State of Georgia Bank stock, worthless; the At- 
 lantic and Gulf Railroad stock, worthless; fifty 
 thousand dollars of Confederate bonds, worthless ; 
 fifty thousand dollars Confederate money for last 
 year's crop of rice, worthless; twenty thousand 
 dollars Georgia treasury notes, worthless. On 
 the other hand every debt his father owed must be 
 paid if there was means to pay it with. He had 
 looked over the papers, and he said with rather a 
 faint smile: "Well, my girl, we've 'Ivy Bush' 
 left if we covdd £ret there." 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. 1 93 
 
 "Well, why not 'Ivy Bush?'" said Helen. 
 •'Yes, why not?" 
 
 Roger at first thought of attempting to recover 
 what was lost. They had the plantations in pos- 
 session. The negroes were there. Mr. Harris 
 might be able to furnish the money to begin 
 again; but if he had any such hope, it was soon 
 dispelled by a letter from Messrs Harris & Sons. 
 They wrote him that Messrs. Fall, Daniel & Son 
 had written them with reference to the mortgage, 
 that the old Quaker refused any extension of time, 
 and that if the mortgage, principle and interest, was 
 not paid by November i, steps for foreclosure 
 should at once be taken. 
 
 Roger looked a little depressed, but clear-headed 
 Helen said: " This is best. We never could have 
 made enough to have paid that mortgage, and we 
 must now be content to be what God in his provi- 
 dence says we should be: to be poor. We will 
 go to ' Ivy Bush.' " 
 
 " If we can get there," said her brother. "It has 
 been three years since you heard from there at all. 
 I don't suppose the place has run away, though." 
 
 "No; papa put old man Durham in the place 
 when he resolved to go the war, and I suppose he 
 is there still. But we have not been able to hear 
 from him for three years." 
 
1^4 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 " Well, we are a fixture here for the next six 
 months, until matters are settled here, and then 
 we will start again and live anew at ' Ivy Bush.' 
 God has been very good to us in saving us from 
 any suffering thus far, but when I think of how 
 helpless I am and how Httle I know, and think of 
 mamma and you, I get a little despondent." 
 
 " You worry about us. You forget, young man, 
 I am your elder sister, and have taken pretty good 
 care of myself in the past." 
 
 "And so you have of all the rest, but I ought 
 not to let the load fall on you so heavily." 
 
 " When 1 complain, you may sympathize. If 
 Bob had not run away with our silver and my 
 jewels, we at least might have had something to 
 have set us up in housekeeping." 
 
 "Well, we will be about as well off in that re- 
 spect as most of our neighbors in Habersham." 
 
 The Federal soldiers were gradually withdrawn 
 from the country, and people w^ere adjusting them- 
 selves to the new condition of things under which 
 they were. When the last soldier from Liberty 
 was gone, and things had settled down to the calm 
 repose of other days, old Jack seemed to feel 
 greatly relieved. Roger thought maybe he was 
 relieved because the confiscation of the two mules 
 by young Jack had escaped discovery, but he 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. 1 95 
 
 found there was another cause. One evening 
 after supper Jack came to the back door, and 
 called for Roger: " Mass Roger, I want you and 
 Miss Helen to leab ole Miss wid Judy, and come 
 'long wid me. 
 
 " Well, Jack, where are you going? " 
 " Nebber you min' ; you come 'long wid me." 
 Young Jack was at the back door, with a spade 
 and a mattock. The old man had a pine torch. 
 He lit it, and led the group into the recesses of 
 the swamp. He passed the magnolia tree under 
 which something like a grave appeared, and mut- 
 tered to himself: " Dat nigger fool one time." 
 Striking out into the wood by an obscure path, he 
 paused at last where there was a fallen tree of 
 small size. He looked in several directions, then 
 he turned to 3'oung Jack, and said: "Now 3'ou 
 roll back dat log." He did so. " Now you dig 
 right dar." He did so. As he dug old Jack 
 threw the dirt aside with his spade. At last 
 Jack's mattock struck something. " Dat's it" 
 said the old man. The dirt was thrown out, and 
 old Jack and his son raised out from the grave in 
 which he had buried it the hair-covered trunk. 
 
 " Poor Massa never know dat rascal Bob. He 
 truss him; I no truss him. Bob run away with de 
 yankee man, I slip here and dig up de trunk and 
 
196 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 bury him ergin. Bob come get him; Bob no find 
 him. I tell nobody till yankee man get gone. All 
 de tings here, just like Massa put em." The 
 faithful old man had been afraid to tell any human 
 beingr of his secret till he knew that all danger 
 was past. 
 
 The trunk was carried carefully home. It had 
 not been injured, and the contents were not at all 
 affected. In it was the family silver: urn, coffee- 
 pot, teapot, cups, spoons, the old watches, and 
 diamonds. It was old time silver, when silverware 
 was known as plate, and when over a hundred 
 dollars was often paid for a cup richly chased, or 
 a tea urn. There too was the deed made to " Ivy 
 Bush " and the will of Roger Lawson. 
 
 It was impossible to get to " Ivy Bush " during 
 
 the summer of 1865, and Roger remained at home, 
 
 settling up his father's affairs as best he could. 
 
 A letter to Durham failed to elicit any reply, and 
 
 Roger wrote to his old friend, Squire Bass, of 
 
 whom he had not heard in four years. It took a 
 
 letter a long time to get to Clarksville, for the 
 
 mail service was but slowly restored, and it was 
 
 toward winter when he received this astounding 
 
 reply : 
 
 Near Clarksville, Dec. i, 1865. 
 
 My Dear Roger: I was glad to hear from you. The Lord 
 
 has been mighty good to me and my old woman and Jeems, 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. I97 
 
 and we is all back agin. Jeems was wounded pretty bad in the 
 fight before Knoxville, but he's pretty nigh over it, though his 
 leg troubles him yit. You writ about " Ivy Bush." Well, I am 
 sorry to say old Bob Durham is thar yit, and he says he's a gwine 
 to stay thar. He says what I know's a lie: that he bought the 
 place from your pappy, and is got a deed. He's got a deed, for 
 I seed it; and it was signed by your pappy, he says. Well, its 
 got his name to it, and it looks like he writ it; but I don't think 
 he did. The last time he was here he told me he had give this 
 place to your mother, and I know he wern't the man to go back 
 on his word. I am afeered old Bob is a gwine to give you 
 trouble, but you can count on me and Jeems a standing by you. 
 The Durham boys deserted the army, and jined the bush- 
 whackers in Tennessee. They are back here now, and the 
 country hain't no better for their being in it. Old Bob Durham 
 drinks a power, and the boys is no doubt making blockade 
 ■whisky, but the revenues don't try to catch up with 'em. I 
 think you had better come up here as soon as you kin git here. 
 The longer this thing is put off the more trouble thar will be. 
 We have had hard times up here, and they is hard yit. The 
 boys didn't git back in time to pitch a good crap, but, thank 
 God, we haven't starved, and we hain't a gwine to. Give a 
 heap of howdy to Helen and your mother from me and my old 
 woman and Jeems. 
 
 Your true friend, James Bass. 
 
 Roger read the letter with mingled feelings of 
 astonishment and indignation. It was evident that, 
 taking advantage of the war times and the long 
 distance which separated the parties, and hoping 
 that death would assist them in their schemes, a 
 plot had been entered into to rob them of their 
 summer place. Roger knew enough of the slow 
 
198 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 processes of law and of its uncertainties not to feel 
 concerned. He handed the letter silently to Helen. 
 When she read it her cheek flushed ; but, looking 
 at her brother and seeing the evidences of great 
 anxiety in his face, she calmly said: "God still 
 lives, and he will not allow this robbery. We will 
 find some way out of this trouble too." 
 
 " I know that we will, but I am annoyed at the 
 distress that it will give poor mamma." 
 
 "Why need she to know anything of it? We 
 can keep it to ourselves." 
 
 "Yes, and we will do so. It is evident that 
 nothing can be done now. It is difficult to get to 
 Habersham. I cannot leave mother. There is 
 little hope of doing anything on the farm if we 
 could get possession of it this season. So will let 
 the matter rest till summer." 
 
 The two children went out unto the room of 
 their mother. Never demonstrative, but always 
 tender and thoughtful, she was thinking for others. 
 When they came they found that she had opened 
 the trunk and had placed on the table the articles 
 that it contained. There were one teapot, one 
 coffee urn, one punch bowl, one salver, one sugar 
 bowl, twelve large tablespoons, twelve dessert 
 spoons, twelve teaspoons, one soup tureen and 
 ladle, one large pitcher, one flagon, one-half 
 
BEGINNING ANEW. I99 
 
 dozen goblets, and sundry other pieces of heavy 
 soHd silver. These pieces of silver had descended 
 from the Maxwells and Lawsons, and had the 
 court of arms of each family on them. There 
 was a diamond brooch, a pair of diamond brace- 
 lets, a pearl necklace, and some beautiful rings 
 set with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls. As the 
 children came in she said to them: "I am tak- 
 ing a little list of these things, and a last look at 
 them. After your dear father's death I determined 
 to have the plate on my table no more, and now 
 that my children need the money which it will sell 
 for, I am anxious for it to be sold." 
 
 The children were at first disposed to demur, 
 but it was too evidently the thing that ought to be 
 done for them to hesitate, and so it was decided 
 that Roger should take it to Mr. Hamilton, the 
 Savannah jeweler, and place it in his hands to be 
 disposed of. Helen insisted that her jewels should 
 be sold too. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 SOME UNLOOKED-FOR EVENTS. 
 
 ^^HE next day Roger, with young Jack and the 
 ^ wagon in which was the trunk of plate, began 
 his journey to Savannah, which he reached in due 
 time. The war was virtually over; but the country 
 was still under military rule, and the cities in charge 
 of provost marshals. To see the colored troops in 
 blue uniform parading the streets of Savannah, and 
 to be forced to submit his papers to their examina- 
 tion, was not a pleasant thing to a high-spirited 
 young Southerner like Roger, and when to all this 
 was added the fact of a lost cause and lost fortunes, 
 and above all of a lost father, the cup was sufficient- 
 ly full of bitterness. 
 
 Roger had little now to do than to deposit the 
 plate with his mother's old jeweler, and to re- 
 quest him to do the best that he could with it, 
 and to call on Col. Floyd, who was his father's 
 counselor at law, and consult him about the "Ivy 
 Bush " matter. He called at the office of the wise 
 attorney, and told him the condition of affairs at 
 
 *' Ivy Bush." Roger showed him Squire Bass's 
 (200) 
 
SOME UNLOOKED-FOR EVENTS. 20I 
 
 letter, and when the Colonel read it he looked 
 thoughtful: "Well, Captain, I am sure that your 
 case is a good one, and in time you can oust these 
 intruders, but the times are out of joint. The 
 courts are not in good working order, and it is 
 certain that you cannot trust a jury now. Old 
 Durham has evidently quite a following. He 
 seems to be a Unionist. His sons were in the 
 Federal army, and he has a deed ; forged as it is, 
 it is a deed, and has been admitted to record, and 
 the best thing that 3^ou can do is to do nothing now. 
 Write to Col. Billups, who was in the army with 
 your father and is a good lavv^yer, to keep an eye 
 on old Durham, and see to it that no sale of the 
 place is made to an innocent purchaser, and wait 
 for developments." 
 
 This was in accord with Roger's own ideas of 
 what was best, and so he went back to the home 
 in Liberty to wait. He carried with him from the 
 colonel's office sundry law books which he in- 
 tended to study under his direction, that he might 
 get ready for admission to the bar. 
 
 In the Savannah Press of May 31 appeared this 
 advertisement: 
 
 FAMILY PLATE AT A SACRIFICE. 
 
 A planter's wife who has lost her property, and who has 
 been bereft of her husband, offers a beautiful lot of silverware 
 
202 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 find some beautiful old time jewelry for sale at a great sacrifice. 
 Apply to Hamilton Si Co., 41 Broughton Street. 
 
 A Federal colonel was smoking in the office of 
 the commandant, and a young adjutant was read- 
 ing the morning paper. The advertisement caught 
 his eye. "Hey, colonel! here is something the 
 bummers did not get. Pride has its fall. I see these 
 haughty dames, who toss their pretty heads at us, 
 have to come down at last," and he read the ad- 
 vertisement. " Say, colonel, let us go down and 
 look at it, and if it is cheap I believe Fll get it for 
 my girl in Maine." 
 
 The colonel did not seem to enter into the spirit 
 of the thoughtless subordinate, but quietly arose 
 and said: " Well, come on." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton brought out the plate. " There 
 are," he said, " two crests here — the Maxwells 
 and the Law^sons. They were of our oldest and 
 best families in Liberty Count}/, but Gen. Lawson 
 was wounded and died and the old home was 
 burned down, and his wife was forced to sell. 
 The plate is of the highest grade of crown silver." 
 
 " The Maxwells and Lawsons, of Liberty Coun- 
 ty, did you say ? ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 •' Was this lady the mother of Capt. Roger Law- 
 son?" 
 
SOME UNLOOKED-FOR EVENTS. 203 
 
 "Yes. He put the plate in my hands." 
 
 "What is it worth?" 
 
 "Well, I ought to get $i,ooo for the lot; and 
 for these jewels I got when I sold them to her 
 father $500 more. I might take less, as they are 
 in such need, but they are richly worth that." 
 
 "Mr. Jeweler," said the adjutant, "say $500 
 for the lot." 
 
 "No; I will try to do better than that." 
 
 " Well, I'll give that, but no more." 
 
 They went quietly out of the store, but in an 
 hour's time an orderly came back to the store with 
 this note: 
 
 Dear Sir: Inclosed find check for $1,500 in full payment of 
 the plate and jewelry shown me this morning. Send the goods 
 by the bearer. 
 
 The next mail to " Pine Lodge " brought Roger 
 and Helen a surprising letter. 
 
 Capt. Roger Lawson. 
 
 • Aly Dear Sir: The day after 3'ou left the plate in my charge 
 a young yankee colonel came in and bought the whole of it. 
 He had it sent to his office. His name I do not kriow. The 
 money is to your credit in the Central Railroad Bank. 
 
 Hamilton & Co. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HOW BOB DURHAM LOST HIS CASE. 
 
 ^W^HE times were truly out of joint. There was 
 
 ^ first the government of Georgia as it has been 
 
 for a hundred years, but it only stood a few months. 
 
 Then the provisional government, and then the 
 
 military government. They came in such rapid 
 
 succession that one was scarcely able to locate the 
 
 government before it was gone. There was a 
 
 breaking up of everything, and in no part of 
 
 Georgia were things more mixed than in that part 
 
 of the State which bordered on North Carolina 
 
 and Tennessee. Here alone, as far as Georgia 
 
 was concerned, it was that the loyalist element had 
 
 much influence, but here it did. Some lawyers 
 
 of real parts were avowed radicals, and many of 
 
 the people. 
 
 Col. McNiel was one of the leaders of what the 
 
 old Confederates scornfully called " Hogbacks." 
 
 He was hand in glove with the moonshiners, who 
 
 were themselves on the best of terms with the 
 
 revenue men. The Colonel had drawn up, he said, 
 
 the deed to "Ivy Bush" by which Bob Durham 
 
 held it. Col. Billups knew all these people, and 
 (204) 
 
HOW BOB DURHAM LOST HIS CASE. 205 
 
 was on as good terms with them as a Confederate 
 colonel could be with Union men. Some he knew 
 were honest, but some he knew were thoroughly 
 unscrupulous. He was too wise to act precipi- 
 tately, so he advised Roger to remain quietly at 
 " Pine Lodge " until he sent for him, and kept 
 his eyes wide open. At length, in March of 1866, 
 he wrote Roger to come on to Clarksville as soon 
 as possible. The court was near its spring term. 
 Old Bob Durham had decided to sell out, and 
 was about to trade with a man from over the line 
 in Tennessee. Issue must be made at once, and 
 Roger must be there to secure possession, if pos- 
 session could be secured. 
 
 When Roger reached Clarksville he found the 
 Basses ready to welcome him, and his old friend, 
 Andy Rhodes, was back in his old haunts. They 
 had been in the army together. When Andy was 
 seriously sick in the mountains Roger had nursed 
 him as tenderly as a brother. Andy had an eighth 
 part of Indian blood in his veins. He feared noth- 
 ing but work. He was the only man in Haber- 
 sham the Durhams were really afraid of, and it 
 was a rather good thing for Roger that Andy was 
 his friend. 
 
 When Roger reached Clarksville he had an in- 
 terview with Col. Billups.' 
 
206 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Matters were a little squally. Old Durham had 
 the deed, McNiel drew it up, the witnesses were 
 dead, Durham was about to sell, and he and his 
 sons swore vengeance against any man who dis- 
 turbed their right of possession. It would never 
 do to have the matter before a jury, with McNiel 
 to persuade it and the Durhams to frighten it. 
 He must try another course. Roger was to be 
 quiet, and simply wait. 
 
 "Say, Billups," said McNiel, "it is a poor 
 business to molest that poor old man, Durham. I 
 drew the deed myself, and old Bob paid his hard- 
 earned money for the land. He has held it for four 
 years, and it's too late for this youngster to pretend 
 the property was given to his mother. You had 
 just as well let it drop." 
 
 " Well, Dick, maybe 3^ou are right. Anyway, 
 you get the deed and bring it to my office, where 
 I will meet you; and bring old Bob there, and I 
 will get my young client, and we will see if we 
 can't settle it." 
 
 So old Bob and Col. McNiel and Col. Billups 
 and Roger met in the office, and with them came 
 Andy Rhodes. Col. Billups told him he must be 
 on hand, and ready for work, if work was needed. 
 Andy knew what that meant, and as he buckled 
 on his cavalry belt he looked a little carefully at 
 
now BOB DURHAM LOST HIS CASE. 207 
 
 the cartridges in his navy shooter, and put on 
 some fresh caps. 
 
 The Httle group were evidently intensely in 
 earnest. 
 
 "Now, Col. Billups, I drew this deed; didn't 
 I, Bob?" 
 
 "Yes, that you did, Squire, and Bob Wortham 
 and Tom Hughes both witnessed it. It was just 
 before Maj. Lawson left here for the arm}". He 
 come up here to fix things, and carry his niggers 
 back, and says he: 'Mr. Durham,' says he, 'I 
 need some money, and I don't think I'll ever 
 come back here no more, and I'll sell you this 
 'ere place for $800 cash down.' That's just what 
 the deed says, ain't it, Squire? And says I, ' I'll 
 take it.' And, Squire, you drawed the deed and 
 seed me pay down the money, didn't you? " 
 
 "Yes, of course I did." 
 
 "And now for em to bring another deed, what 
 they say was made a year before this un, and try 
 to git my propity from me, hain't honest, and I 
 hain't a gwine to put up with it nuther. Thar'll 
 be some blood spilt first." 
 
 "O well, Bob!" said Col. Billups quietly, 
 " nobody is going to spill any blood about it. If 
 your deed is good, it is good. On the court rec- 
 ords, though, there is a deed v/hich was made 
 
208 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 a year before this was, in favor of Mrs. Mary 
 Lawson." 
 
 " Yes, I know thar was, but I did not know it 
 when I bought this property, and you didn't; did 
 you. Squire? " 
 
 "No, of course I did not. I did not think 
 a rich man like Col. Lawson would rob a poor 
 countryman out of his honest earnings." 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" said Roger, start- 
 ing to his feet, and clinching his fist. 
 
 "Please be still, Mr. Lawson," said Col. Bil- 
 lups. " Suppose, Dick, somebody forged a deed, 
 and signed Lawson's name to it." Col. Billups 
 had the deed in his hand, and looked calmly in 
 McNiel's eye. 
 
 "Somebody forged! Do you dare to say I 
 forged it?" he hissed as he rose to his feet and 
 reached for his pistol. 
 
 " Say, Dick McNiel, you just sit there quiet, 
 will ye, and listen to Col. Billups, or I'll put five 
 bullets into 3^e so quick you won't have time 
 to wink." The navy of Andy never missed fire, 
 and he never missed his mark. Old Bob had 
 started up, too, with his pistol in his hand, but 
 Roger's pistol warned him to be still, and he 
 dropped his weapon and sunk into his seat. 
 
 " Yes, Dick, you forged that deed, and it is not 
 
now BOB DURHAM LOST IIIS CASE. 2O9 
 
 the first by many, I am afraid. But you were not 
 as sharp as you thought you were. Your pre- 
 tended witnesses are dead, that is true; the record 
 was made, that is true; your deed is dated 1861, 
 that is true ; but, Dick, you did not get the right 
 kind of paper, if you did stain it. Look here." 
 And he held the deed up to the hght, and in the 
 body of it one read: " Passaic Mills, 1865." The 
 telltale figures settled the case. The lawyer, 
 cowed and pale, said nothing. 
 
 "Now, Dick, if this case comes before Judge 
 Knight, you'll go to the penitentiary; but for your 
 wife's sake it shan't go there. But you must go 
 away from Clarksville, and stay away, and if so 
 I'll keep the secret. And now. Bob Durham, j^ou 
 old villain, if you are not out of " Ivy Bush " by 
 t07morrow night you and Dick McNiel both will be 
 indicted for conspiracy and forgery and perjury." 
 
 "Well, Colonel, I was a gwine to leave any- 
 how. Col. McNiel told me to do just what I did. 
 I didn't mean no harm."* 
 
 And so "Ivy Bush" came back to its owners. 
 14 V 
 
t 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LADDER. 
 
 /^OL. BILLUPS had become much interested 
 ^^ in his young friend. The father of Roger 
 had been his brigade commander in Virginia, 
 and there was a warm affection between the 
 two officers; and when Roger asked what he was 
 to pay for his services, the Colonel refused 
 to receive any compensation. After Roger had 
 told him of the loss of everything, and of his 
 anxiety to be admitted to the bar, the Colonel 
 said to him: "Well, apply now. You have read 
 enough law to begin to practice, and I am siirc 
 j-ou can pass an approved examination. And as 
 you are going to move to this county, it is best for 
 you to be admitted in this court." 
 
 So Roger made his application, and was exam- 
 ined by a committee of lawyers. After it was 
 over Judge Knight said to him: " Your examina- 
 tion, Mr. Lawson, has been very creditable. You 
 show an unusual acquaintance with the principles 
 of law, and are well up in your reading. I pre- 
 dict for you a bright future." 
 (210) 
 
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LADDER. 211 
 
 The next thing to be done was to remove the 
 family, so Roger went to Liberty. He found his 
 father's old manager not unwilling to take " Pine 
 Lodge " in full payment for all arrears. 
 
 "The fact is, Mr. Roger," said the overseer, 
 " I mout have managed niggers, and I reckon I 
 did, pretty well when they was niggers; but now, 
 when a nigger is a little better than a white man, 
 somebody else can git my job. I am a gwine to 
 stay in the pine v»'Oods and git along without 'em." 
 
 There were few debts to pay, and the devasta- 
 tion of Sherman's army had made it an easy mat- 
 ter to move what they left behind them. Old Jack 
 and Aunt Judy, and young Jack and Chloe, and 
 Mammy were going to move with the family. 
 " The truth is, Missus," said Mammy, " I's been 
 takin' car' of you so long I's just obleeged to go 
 wid you." 
 
 There were the three mules and the wagon, and 
 Roger traded off some cows which had escaped 
 the raiders, and bought another mule. They had 
 the carriage still, and the wagon, and the lighter 
 goods were loaded in the wagon, and the heavier 
 goods sold; and in their own conveyances they 
 made the slow journey toward their new old 
 home. There was still several hundred dollars 
 of the money for which the plate was sold, but 
 
212 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 there was quite a family of helpless dependents to 
 be provided for. Old Jack and Mammie had 
 done no hard work for years, Aunt Judy had done 
 nothing but cook, and Chloe was simply a house- 
 maid. The young readers of this chronicle have 
 read but little if they have not seen many allusions 
 to the fate of the poor negroes, who gave two hun- 
 dred years of unrequited labor to their white mas- 
 ters. The fact was, no race of mere laborers were 
 ever better paid, for no race was ever so universally 
 provided for as this race was. The able-bodied 
 were by no means all who were to be fed and 
 clothed, and the consumers were always greatly 
 more numerous than the producers. To Roger, 
 to abandon these faithful old slaves was not to be 
 thought of, and so Mammy had her place in the 
 carriage and old Jack on the driver's seat, as he 
 had done in all the years gone by. Old Squire 
 Bass had insisted that the family should be 
 brought at once to his home, and should remain 
 there until the effects of Bob Durham's shiftless 
 ways could be remedied. The warm greeting of 
 the motherly old woman was all the more tender 
 because of the sad changes which had passed 
 over the home of her friend. 
 
 The prospect before the brave 3'oung soldier 
 was not a bright one: A farm, neglected and run 
 
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LADDER. 213 
 
 down; a house, dilapidated, with no furniture in 
 it; three helpless old negroes, and an invalid 
 mother and delicate sister; a profession just en- 
 tered upon, and all the way untried, was before 
 him. His heart grew somewhat faint at the pros- 
 pect, but he could not forget how God had blessed 
 them in the past, and he could trust him for the 
 future. As they passed through Athens he had 
 purchased some plain furniture and some needful 
 supplies, for which he was to send the wagon 
 after the travelers had reached their destination. 
 While they were waiting for these things, and 
 while the servants were getting the house in hab- 
 itable shape, the little family remained at the home 
 of Squire Bass. 
 
 Up to this time they had not realized how 
 changed was their worldly condition, and now as 
 Roger saw himself a poor, dependent, and helpless 
 man, while he cared little for himself, he could not 
 but feel great anxiety for his mother and Helen. 
 Upon them as 3^et no real hardship had come, but 
 what was now before them ? 
 
 There were no people who faced the great 
 changes after the war with a braver heart than 
 many of those who had been brought up in luxury, 
 and on none did the storm blow with a fiercer 
 blast. Roger and Helen were not braver than ten 
 
214 'l'^^^ ^°'^' ^^ GRAY. 
 
 thousand others who found themselves paupers 
 when they had been princes, and Roger might 
 have despaired but for his sister's courage and his 
 mother's faith. Helen was never so bright and 
 cheery. The poor mother was too sad at the re- 
 membrance of what had been to consider the out- 
 side surroundings. The only seriously discon- 
 tented one was Aunt Jud3\ She took her venge- 
 ance out on Chloe, whom she scolded unmerci- 
 full}^ and found some relief in the bitterness with 
 which she denounced ** dem poor trash w'at's bin 
 tryin' to tief Master's place." 
 
 The wagon, with the plain poplar bedsteads, the 
 cheap washstand and bureau, had arrived, and 
 then it was sent over to Squire Bass's after the 
 bedding, which had been left there. Throwing 
 her palmetto hat on her curls, Helen coiled herself 
 up on the mattresses and rode over to ** Ivy Bush" 
 as joyously as a schoolgirl. 
 
 *' Bless her dear heart," said the old lady, *' she 
 is just as happy as if she had not lost her for- 
 tune." 
 
 When the mother came " Ivy Bush " was like 
 home again. The hardships of war had been good 
 discipline for people who were to lose all, and 
 "Pine Lodge" had prepared the way for " Ivy 
 Bush." Aunt Judy had seen to it that the house 
 
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LADDER. 215 
 
 was neatly scoured, and Helen had made her 
 mother's chamber as cosy as a daughter's good 
 good taste could make it. The honeysuckle and 
 sweet shrub sent their fragrance through the 
 chamber, a nice supper had been prepared, and 
 when James Bass brought over the mother in the 
 afternoon " Ivy Bush " looked like home again. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 
 
 ^If^HE next day after the family were snugly 
 ^ housed was Sunday. It was the day when 
 the circuit preacher came to his appointment. 
 The good mother was not strong enough to go out 
 to service, but Roger and Helen went, and Roger 
 put his Church certificate into the preacher's hand 
 and announced himself as ready for work. The 
 Sunday school had not been organized for want of 
 a superintendent, and the preacher in charge se- 
 lected the young lawyer for the place. The peo- 
 ple around the church were many of them very 
 ignorant, as they were very poor, and Helen and 
 Roger found a large field for an}^ work they wished 
 to do, and I have always found it to be a fact that 
 if we are willing to do the work nearest to us we 
 always find enough of it. 
 
 Col. Billups had kindly invited Roger to share 
 his office, and gave him the use of his books, and 
 proffered to give him such instruction as an old 
 lawyer could give to a young one. " Now, Law- 
 son," he said, '*you have just begun to prepare 
 (216) 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 21 7 
 
 for work. You know enough law to begin to 
 practice, and enough to begin the careful study. 
 You are here in a quiet, retired country town, and 
 it is little likely there will ever be a demand for a 
 knowledge of those subjects which have engaged 
 the best legal minds, but my idea is that the brief- 
 less lawyer of a country village should fit himself 
 to be the Chief Justice of the United States. I 
 have here a library which, while not large, has the 
 best books in it. Some of these came from my 
 father; many of them I have bought for myself. 
 I have studied questions concerning trusts, remain- 
 ders, tenures, inheritances vv^hich I have never met 
 with, and never expected to meet with, but when I 
 do meet v/ith them I am ready for them. Another 
 thing, when you have a case do not consider the 
 amount of the fee nor the importance of the case. 
 Prepare as carefully for a case before Squire Lark- 
 ins as for one before the Supreme Court. I am 
 not going to take you into partnership, not because 
 I am not willing to divide practice with you, but 
 because it will be best for you to win your own 
 spurs. If you were to win a case by your labor 
 alone, and were my partner, I would get the credit 
 for it; but all I can do for you I will do. My of- 
 fice is yours and my books are yours, so put up 
 your shingle and go to work." 
 
2l8 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 The young lawyer learns very soon that he must 
 be patient, that there is no easy way to success, 
 and while Roger did not enjoy his want of prac- 
 tice, he obeyed the Colonel's counsel, and gave 
 himself to hard study. 
 
 Old Jack took charge of the farm. He could 
 not work much, but he could superintend. 
 
 Young Jack, had married Chloe, and taken 
 her to a cabin of her own, where Aunt Judy could 
 no longer reproach her for her divers shortcom- 
 ings. Young Jack was the only active worker, 
 and as it was not likely that the farm would do 
 much more than pay its own way, and as the de- 
 posit in the Central Railroad Bank was getting 
 alarm.ingly low, the question of fees became one 
 of real importance. 
 
 At last Roger got a case, if not a fee. The 
 poor woman who came to his office was a forlorn 
 specimen of that class of people known all over 
 the South by different names: sometimes as 
 *' crackers," sometimes as " mossbacks," some- 
 times as " sand lappers," and sometimes as 
 "poor whites." They were born in poverty and 
 brought up in ignorance. They had always 
 lived in log cabins, and always on hard fare. 
 They were, many of them, pure, honest, kind- 
 hearted, and in their way religious. They were 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 219 
 
 often land owners, and not unfrequently rose 
 from their lowly estate into a higher place. 
 James Jenkins was a good specimen of this class. 
 He had moved over from Anderson, in South Car- 
 olina, to Habersham some years before, and set- 
 tled on a little farm on Duke's Creek. The farm 
 had only forty acres in it, and of these only twen- 
 ty were free from timber ; but it was productive, and 
 the plain man lived a contented and an independent 
 life upon it. The war broke out, and he left the 
 farm to go into the army. He took his young wife 
 and her four children to her father's, in South Car- 
 olina. He rented the farm, but the party renting 
 it had gone away and left it. 
 
 Bill Hillborn was a land stealer, and when he 
 saw that the place was vacated he took possession 
 of it, and claimed it as his own. 
 
 Jenkins went with McMillan's regiment to the 
 war, and there was no braver man or better sol- 
 dier in Lee's arm}^; but when Gettysburg was 
 fought, and the shattered Twenty-fourth came off 
 the field, Jenkins was missing. His comrades never 
 knev/ what became of him. He was abreast with 
 the foremost in that aw^ful charge when they saw 
 him last. In a grave marked "unknown" he 
 sleeps on Penns3dvania soil. He never knew why 
 there was a v/ar. Indeed, he hardly knew that 
 
220 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 there was a North. He merely knew, he said, that 
 " Bob McMillan was raisin' a rigiment, and that he 
 ought to fight for libbuty, as his granddaddy had 
 done in the Revolution war." 
 
 Poor Nancy Jenkins, with her four children, was 
 on her father's Httle farm in Anderson, S. C, when 
 her husband was killed. The war had been two 
 years over when her father died, and she was 
 homeless. She got a kind neighbor to bring her 
 over the mountains to her old home in Georgia. 
 When she reached it she found a stranger in the 
 cabin. He had rented it, he said, from Squire 
 Hillborn, and had put in his crops, and while he 
 was mighty sorry for the poor woman, he could 
 not help her. She could stay here until she 
 could get some satisfaction, he said, and that he 
 would go with her to Clarksville to see a lawyer 
 about her rights. 
 
 She came to see Col. Billups, and told him her 
 story. He had known her husband, and he be- 
 lieved her stor}^ but he told her at once that he 
 was the attorney for Hillborn in several important 
 cases, and could not take the case, but introduced 
 her to Roger. "You see," she said to the young 
 attorney, *'when me and Jim was married m}'' 
 pappy give me a hundred dollars, and Jim had 
 made another hundred, and as he had a critter and 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 221 
 
 a little wag-gin and I had some things, we thought 
 that we'd strike out for ourselves. So weuns come 
 over here, and Mr. Richardson, what is gone some- 
 whar, I don't know whar, but I heerd it was to the 
 Alabam, he sold Jim a little plantation up on the 
 crick. Thar warn't a stick amiss on it when we 
 bought it, but we went up thar and built our cabin, 
 and was gittin' on right peart when this here awful 
 war come on, and he went to the army, and that 
 is the last I ever seed of him. I couldn't write, and 
 I couldn't git back till arter daddy died, and then I 
 had nowhar to go. I got Mr. Smith to bring me 
 here, and when I got back I found that Bill Hillborn 
 said that he'd bought our plantation, and I jist 
 know that he didn't, and I want you to take the 
 law on him, and git it back for me and my chil- 
 dren." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Jenkins," said Roger, "where is 
 your deed? " 
 
 ' ' The deed ? What' s that ? " 
 
 " Why, the paper Mr. Richardson gave 3^our 
 husband." 
 
 "Why no! I never seed that arter Jim left 
 with Mr. Richardson to go to the Squire's, but I 
 know it's my land." 
 
 " Do you know whether the deed was re- 
 corded?" 
 
222 THE EOY IN GRAY. 
 
 " Why, I don't know what you mean by ac- 
 corded ! " 
 
 "Recorded! I mean, did he give it to the 
 clerk?" 
 
 " I don't know. There was two or three clerks 
 in Mr. Stanford's store, where we use to trade, 
 and he mout a given it to one of 'em; but I know 
 it's my Ian'." 
 
 " Well, I am sure it is. Now you go back 
 there and stay. I think Mr. Moore will let you 
 stay on the place, and I will do my best for you. 
 Who was the squire to whom your husband went 
 when he bought the land? " 
 
 " Why, Squire Williams, in Nacoochee." 
 
 *' Is he there now? " 
 
 "No; he's gone too." 
 
 " Do you know where? " 
 
 "No; I hain't hearn." 
 
 " Well, I will do all I can for you, but I can't 
 promise much; but you try and stay on the 
 land." 
 
 The first thing to do was to see Ilillborn. This 
 land trader was famous for his large holding of 
 wild lands. He succeeded in fjettin^f tract after 
 tract, and it was rumored that his papers were 
 often none of the best. He was always in court, 
 and often victorious, seldom defeated. He was 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNFA' AT LAW. 223 
 
 oily and plausible, and had money. Roger called 
 him into his office, and asked him about the land. 
 
 " Well, Squire," said Hillborn, " the poor 
 woman thinks she's got a right. Jim did live on 
 the place, but I let him live thar for nothin', for I 
 believe in bein' good to pore folks, and I never 
 charged nothin' ; but I have a deed from Billy 
 Richardson to Dick McNiel, and I bought it from 
 him, and the deed's done recorded. I'm sorry 
 for her, but I can't help her. I'm a pore man 
 myself, and you know the Scriptur' says: 'He 
 that provideth not for his own house is wus than a 
 infidel.' " 
 
 There seemed but little hope for the widow. 
 The deed from Richardson seemed all right, and 
 Richardson was gone, the squire who witnessed it 
 was gone, and the other witnesses were gone; and 
 yet Roger was sure she spoke truly. He must 
 use a little strategy. 
 
 Dick Moore, who was tenant, had a kind heart, 
 and Bill Hillborn Vv^as a hard landlord. Dick was 
 sure the widow had a just claim, and so he agreed 
 with Roger to quietly vacate the house before his 
 time was out, and leave the widow in possession. 
 Then the suit of ejectment must come from Hill- 
 born. 
 
 Hillborn did not live in Habersham, but in Cher- 
 
2 24 "^^^^ ^'^^' ^^ GRAY. 
 
 okee, and it was only after Moore was out of the 
 way and the widow was in her cabin that he 
 found out the true status. He was in a towering 
 rage. He came to the cabin, dismounting at the 
 gate. " Hello! " he said, for he saw a large cur 
 dog on the front steps, and was afraid to come in. 
 " Who lives here?" 
 
 " The owners of this place, that's who! " said 
 a determined voice. 
 
 " I am the owner of this place." 
 
 "No; that you hain't! " 
 
 *' Well, I will show you that I am ! so you'd bet- 
 ter leave here." 
 
 " But I hain't a gwine to do it!" 
 
 "Well, I'll put you out," and he started as 
 though he would come in. 
 
 " You will? Well, I reckon you won't! " and 
 she reached over the door and brought down her 
 husband's single-barrel shotgun. " This gun's 
 loaded with buckshot, Bill Hillborn, and if ye 
 step in that gate I'll put the whole load in ye. 
 Say, Tige, watch him! " 
 
 The cur bristled and showed his teeth. 
 
 Muttering " I'll take the law on ye," the dis- 
 comfited land stealer went his way to Cleveland, 
 to see a lawyer and get ready for the suit of 
 ejectment. 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 225 
 
 Possession was nine-tenths of the law, but not 
 ten-tenths. The widow was not likely to be 
 ejected by a justice of the peace, but when the 
 court came on, if Richardson could not be found, 
 the deed might stand. 
 
 Roger's old friend, Squire Bass, might help 
 him to find Richardson. He mentioned it to him. 
 
 "Why yes, Roger; I know jist whar he is. 
 He sold out here, and went over to Randolph 
 County, in the Alabam. 1 got a letter from him 
 a little while ago. His post office is Wedowee." 
 
 " Do you think I can get him here to court? " 
 
 " Why, yes. When he writ me last winter he 
 said he would be here after craps was laid by, if 
 he could come; and I expect he'll be glad to 
 come." 
 
 The court came on. There was but little busi- 
 ness in Cleveland, and the judge called the case 
 of " Richard Roe for Wm. Hillborn vs. John 
 Doe and Mary Jenkins, writ of ejectment." Col. 
 Billups having refused to take the case, Billy Mar- 
 tin, a young lawyer, was employed by Hillborn. 
 The young lawyer said the case was a plain one. 
 The property was his client's, and the deed pro- 
 duced would show the chain of deeds to Hillborn 
 from Richardson and McNiel. The poor woman 
 
 was doubtless demented. The terrible war, which 
 15 
 
226 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 the gentlemen of the jury knew was a rich man's 
 war and a poor man's fight, had unsettled her 
 mind. He would make no speech, but just intro- 
 duce the two deeds as witnesses. He presented 
 the deeds, i. A deed from Billy Richardson to 
 Richard McNiel. 2. A deed from McNiel to 
 Hillborn. He had no other witness to present. 
 "And now," he said, "the case is with you, my 
 Brother Lawson." 
 
 " Mr. Sheriff," said Lawson, " call Billy Rich- 
 ardson." 
 
 " Billy Richardson ! Billy Richardson! Billy 
 Richardson! Come into court! " 
 
 William Hillborn turned pale, and paler still 
 when in walked Billy Richardson, who sold him 
 the land. 
 
 Roofer, after he had sworn the witness, asked 
 him: " What is your name? " 
 
 " Billy Richardson." 
 
 " Where do you live? " 
 
 " In Alabama." 
 
 " Did you ever live in this county?'* 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Did you get a patent to lot No. 205, Fifth Dis- 
 trict of Habersham?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Did you sell that land to Dick McNiel? " 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 227 
 
 *'I did not." 
 
 *' Did you ever sell it? " 
 
 «'I did." 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 "To James Jenkins." 
 
 " Did you sign this deed? " 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 The lawyer for Hillborn got up and said: 
 " May it please the Court, I beg to withdraw 
 from this case at this juncture. The deed upon 
 which I based my plea is undoubtedly a forgery. 
 Whether with cognizance of my client or without 
 it, I cannot tell. I hope your Honor will order 
 a verdict for the defendant." 
 
 "The court," said the judge, "orders a ver- 
 dict for the defendant, with all costs to the 
 plaintiff." 
 
 The orrateful woman burst into tears as she 
 turned to Roger. " God bless you. Squire," she 
 said; " if the pra'rs of a widow 'oman will do you 
 any good, you shall have 'em, but that's all I've 
 got to pay." 
 
 Hillborn came to Roger as soon as court ad- 
 journed. " Well, Colonel, I'll take my affidavy 
 I paid good money to Dick McNiel for that land, 
 and I was a gwine to let the widder stay thar. I 
 just wanted my rights." 
 
228 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 "Well, Squire," said Roger, " you will save 
 yourself another suit and some trouble, some hard 
 questions, if you pay this widow the back rent for 
 the six years you've had the land, for I will prose- 
 cute you on the criminal side and sue you on the 
 civil side of the court if you do not settle at once." 
 
 " Well, Colonel, that's pretty hard, but a man 
 must put up with a heap of wrong things in this 
 wicked world, even if he is honest. I don't know 
 much, and Dick McNiel was a smart lawyer, and 
 he cheated me; but I am willing to do something 
 for the widder. I never got nothin' from the place 
 scacely, but I'll pay her $25 and drop it." 
 
 "No, Squire, you can't get off that easy. If 
 you will give the widow a good horse and forty 
 bushels of corn which Moore owed you for rent 
 and all the fodder and $25 in money, I'll drop the 
 case; but if you don't, I'll have you arrested to- 
 night for a conspiracy to defraud, and have the 
 grand jury to take your case in hand." 
 
 " Well, Squire, I ain't the man to contend. I'd 
 ruther folks would wrong me than wrong them, so 
 I'll do it." 
 
 The papers were fixed, and the poor widow went 
 to her home with a happy heart, 
 
 Roger's skill in managing the case excited much 
 admiration, and his noble devotion to the penniless 
 
ROGER LAWSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. 229 
 
 woman placed him in a high place in the hearts of 
 the people of both counties; but there were no 
 fees, and the deposit in Savannah was about gone. 
 But acts like this of Roger are not apt to escape 
 the notice of a good Lord, and he knows how to 
 bring us out of the most trying embarrassments. 
 So our young lawyer found it. The section in 
 which he had his home bordered on the gold fields 
 of Upper Georgia. Indeed, the first gold ever dis- 
 covered in Georgia was discovered in Habersham 
 County in 1829. An English company had in- 
 vested largely in the mines, and it was now having 
 a long canal dug through the county. There was 
 much legal work to be done, and Mr. Sterling, 
 who was the manager of the company, was look- 
 ing for a solicitor. He was in the courthouse 
 when Roger won his first case. He was so pleased 
 with the young attorney that he decided to try and 
 secure him for a solicitor for the company, and to 
 Roger's astonishment and gratification he offered 
 him one hundred dollars per month as salary, and 
 paid the first month down in advance. 
 
 With a heart full of gratitude to God the young 
 lawyer returned home to bear the good tidings to 
 Helen and his mother. The question of his future 
 v/as now pretty well settled. He won his way 
 rapidly, and before he had been at the bar twelve 
 
230 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 months he had won an independent position as a 
 lawyer. He was enabled now to provide greater 
 comforts for his mother and sister and lay the 
 foundation for the library he so much needed. It 
 was well for him that he had a preceptor so wise 
 as Col. Billups, and that he followed so faithfully 
 his counsel. He had not completed his education 
 even so far as the schools could carry him, and 
 his reading for his profession had been largely de- 
 voted to the books bearing upon the practice ; but 
 now he enlarged his area of study, and made him- 
 self acquainted with those liberal studies which lie 
 at the foundation of all true culture. He little 
 knew how soon his knowledge of the history of 
 the past should stand him in good place in an im- 
 portant position. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A DARK CHAPTER IN AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 fO write the story of Roger I must needs say 
 something of the political condition of the 
 country just after the war, but I assure my read- 
 ers that if I could justly do so I would never refer 
 to the events recorded in this chapter. The courage 
 with which the North fought for the Union ; the 
 brave effort of the South to save the Constitution, 
 as she read it, were events worthy of all admira- 
 tion, and both participants could be commended; 
 but how any American who was freeborn, and who 
 held to the traditions of the past, could believe that 
 the reconstruction measures adopted after the war 
 was over were defensible, save as measures born 
 of times when men were in no condition to think 
 coolly or act justly, I cannot see. This is not the 
 place to tell the story of how Gov. Jenkins was 
 deposed, and how Gov. Johnson was placed in of- 
 fice, and of how Gen. Ruger, a general in the 
 army, superseded him; of how the negroes v/ere 
 given the right of franchise, and a convention to 
 reorganize everything was called, and of how the 
 
 (231) 
 
232 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 old and wise men of the country were shut out from 
 places in that convention. The civilization of our 
 section was fearfully menaced. Men a thousand 
 miles away, utterly ignorant of the difficulties in the 
 way and ruled by bitter partisanship, were forcing 
 upon their countrymen measures which threat- 
 ened the very destruction of all social life. 
 
 The men who were thus experimenting were 
 sufficiently honest, and as far as they knew were 
 acting wisely, but the certain ruin which would 
 have resulted if their measures had been carried 
 out would not have been less ruin because the 
 parties who wrought it meant no ill. 
 
 There were four classes of white people who 
 were concerned and formed parties. There was 
 a large majority of the people who held on to most 
 of the old traditions. They were willing to sur- 
 render those, and those only, which the fortunes 
 of war had forced them to give up. Two things, 
 slaveholding and the right to nullify and secede, 
 were among the things surrendered. They were 
 willing to recognize the civil right of the negro be- 
 fore the law as equal to their own, but they were 
 not willing to show him any special favor nor in- 
 vest him with political power. The Southern Re- 
 publicans were willing to go farther than their 
 conservative fellow-citizens, and accept as wisest 
 
A DARK CHAPTER IN AMERICAN HISTORY. 233 
 
 what the moderate Repubhcans said must be 
 done, negro suffrage and all, and to give what 
 they claimed. Then there were the scalawags, 
 renegade Southerners, who were willing to do any- 
 thing to secure place and money; and then there 
 were the carpetbaggers, adventurous Northerners, 
 who saw an opportunity to secure positions of honor 
 in the South which their obscurity forbade their 
 hoping to secure in the land from which they came. 
 
 It was evident to thoughtful men that the wisest 
 and truest were needed as they were never need- 
 ed before, but by the strange infatuation which 
 marked the times they were forbidden to take part 
 in the convention. 
 
 To the promising young men who had not been 
 excluded the country turned with hope, and when 
 the election came Roger Lawson was chosen a 
 delegate from his county. I am not writing his- 
 tory, nor even giving facts which can be estab- 
 lished by the records, so the readers of the account 
 of the Georgia Convention will look in vain for the 
 name of Roger Lawson, as one might search for 
 that of Bois Gilbert among the ancient Crusa- 
 ders or Rob Roy in Scottish annals. Perhaps 
 those who read between the lines may meet no 
 difficulty in finding the place our young soldier 
 took in the celebrated convention. 
 
234 '^^^^ ^°^ ^^ GRAY. 
 
 The Georgia Republicans and the more mod- 
 erate carpetbaggers joined with the young men 
 to prevent the absolute ruin of the State. 
 
 Among the members of the Convention was an- 
 other Lawson, Robert Lawson, from Libert3% He 
 was very black, but no member of the convention 
 was in more perfect form . His dress was faultless, 
 his manners were perfect, for no man understood 
 the usajie of o-ood societv better than our old friend, 
 Bob. He had gone with the Federals, and had 
 been employed as body servant by one of the gen- 
 erals. He went with his new master to Massachu- 
 setts, and was there treated with distinguished 
 courtesy. He took on the manners of the people 
 among whom he was, and when he came back to 
 Liberty he felt that he was ready to take any posi- 
 tion of dignity and trust. He joined the Loyal 
 League, he was selected as their standard bearer, 
 and he was elected to the convention. He was well 
 dressed, well behaved, and silent, and so made a 
 good average member. He generally watched the 
 course of the leading Radicals, and took that. 
 When Roger met him the former master was as 
 kind as he used to be when Bob waited on the 
 table, and while Bob called him Colonel instead of 
 Mass Roger, he had evidently still a warm place 
 in his heart for his former owner. They were 
 
A DARK CHAPTER IN AMERICAN HISTORY. 235 
 
 equals now before the law, and in many places 
 Robert Lawson, the colored gentleman from Lib- 
 erty, was in higher esteem than the independent 
 young rebel from Habersham. 
 
 The times were perilous. The carpetbaggers 
 were shrewd, ambitious, and unscrupulous; the 
 scalawags, subservient and venial; the Georgia 
 RepubHcans, cautious; and the young Democrats, 
 darincr and defiant. A measure came before the 
 convention that was very menacing. The mak- 
 ing of the provision would bring about very seri- 
 ous results. The carpetbaggers were, to a man, 
 in favor of it, as were the scalawags. The mod- 
 erate Republicans opposed it, and so did the 
 Democrats, and it depended upon the negro vote 
 how it would go, and the negro contingent was 
 largely led by the " gentleman from Liberty," as 
 the President of the Convention called him. 
 
 Judge Bone, Republican, one of the leaders of 
 the moderates, came to Roger, who led the 
 young Democrats: "Lawson, if these fellows 
 have their way, the State is ruined; and they 
 will have it, unless you can do some mighty fine 
 work with the niggers. Your old servant. Bob, is 
 the leader among them. If you can get him to op- 
 pose the tiill, you can save the State. It is worth 
 trying. I have done my best with him ; but Azariah 
 
236 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 Fuller, from Maine, has a stronger hold on him 
 than a Southern man. If you can't control him, 
 the case is hopeless." 
 
 As Roger passed Bob at adjournment he said 
 to him: " Bob, come to my room at the National 
 to-night. I want to see you." 
 
 *'Tank you. Colonel. I'll present myself dar, 
 sah, on de proper time." 
 
 When he came in and Roger had given him a 
 chair and a cigar, he said to him: " Well, Bob, 
 times have changed, haven't they?" 
 
 " Yes, Mass Colonel; times is changed." 
 
 " But, Bob, you are a Georgian? " 
 
 ''Yes, sah." 
 
 "And a Liberty County man? " 
 
 "Yes, sah." 
 
 " From the old Medway neighborhood? " 
 
 " Dat's a fac'." 
 
 " They were a great people? " 
 
 " Dat dey was, Mass Colonel." 
 
 " Bob, you've got their reputation in your keep- 
 ing." 
 
 " Surely, sah " — 
 
 " Bob, will you disgrace them? " 
 
 "No, sah." 
 
 " Bob, will you be led around like a slave by 
 any white man? " 
 
 " No, sah. I's free. I's gwine to stay free." 
 
A DARK CHAPTER IN AMERICAN HISTORY. 237 
 
 *' Now, Bob, will you let Mr. Azariah Fuller 
 lead you by the nose? " 
 
 " No, sah, not if I knows myself." 
 
 "Well, Bob, that's what he thinks he will do, 
 and that's what I think he is not going to do. 
 Now, Bob, when that vote comes to-morrow, show 
 yourself a Liberty County gentleman, and act the 
 man. Just get up and say: ' Mr. President, I've 
 nothing against my old owners, sir, and I want 
 peace, and I am a going to vote against that bill.' 
 Don't say anything to Fuller; keep quiet. Bob, 
 did I ever go back on you? " 
 
 " Never, Mass Roger, nebber no time." 
 
 " Well, you can count on me now, and Fll count 
 on you." 
 
 The people held their breath when the ayes and 
 nays were called the next day, and when the name 
 of Mr. Lawson, of Liberty, was called. Bob rose. 
 He was dressed, as usual, in the height of style. 
 He had the air of a statesman. In a stentorian 
 voice he said: " Mr. Prisident, sir, Fs nuthin' agin 
 my old owners, sah; Fs not a gwine to 'flict 'em, 
 sir, and, sir, I votes no." 
 
 The galleries broke out in a cheer. Mr. Azariah 
 Fuller looked chapf alien, but the State was saved.* 
 
 *If anybody should fail to find this incident in any reputa- 
 ble Georgia history, they must remember that history doesn't 
 tell everything, but lea\es much to our imagination. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN." 
 
 fllE convention was over, and the race for a 
 Governor and members of the Legislature was 
 to be had. The leading men of Habersham 
 wanted Roger to run for the House of Represent- 
 atives. He was not unaspiring. He realized that 
 the times were perilous and the work devolving on 
 the Legislature would be very important, and after 
 he was nominated he was anxious to be elected. 
 His election to the convention had been without 
 opposition, but not so now. He had not reached 
 his position of popular favor without exciting feel- 
 ings of envy on the part of the less successful. 
 
 Young McAtee was a law3^er of a few more 
 years than Roger. He had read Blackstone and 
 a book on Evidence and Cobb's Digest, and had 
 been admitted to the bar. He had read little since 
 that. He knew how to draw a deed, make a will, 
 or sue out a warrant. He was ready for any- 
 thing, however, which came along, and before the 
 justice of the peace or a petit jury he was really a 
 
 power. He was, in truth, smart, unscrupulous, 
 
 (288) 
 
"GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN. 239 
 
 and airile. He asked for the nomination of the 
 Democrats to the House, but did not receive it, 
 and announced himself as an independent candi- 
 date. He was well known, largely connected, 
 and was hand in hand with the moonshiners. He 
 threw himself into the campaign with all ardor. 
 
 Roger was not disposed to neglect opportunities 
 to make himself known and popular. He went to 
 the school exhibitions, he went to the barbecues, 
 he made speeches, he went to the homes of the 
 people ; but he positively refused to treat or allow 
 any others to do so for him. His friends became 
 alarmed. McAtee was treating vigorously, and 
 was making headway. 
 
 Squire Roberts was one of Roger's constituents, 
 and he became anxious. " See here, Lawson," 
 he said, " this ain't gwine to do. Politics in this 
 country hain't run according to the ten command- 
 ments. You've got to lay down a part of your 
 religion till you whip this fight." 
 
 " Well, Squire, I can't do it. If the good peo- 
 ple of Habersham County want me to represent 
 them, I'll do it; but I am not going to get my 
 seat by a perjur}^" 
 
 *' Well, no. But you stand off, and we'll 
 manage for you. You just quit that Sunday 
 school business till after the election, and quit 
 
240 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 these temperance speakin's, and your friends 
 will fix you." 
 
 *' No, Squire, no." 
 
 " Well, you're the queerest politiclaner I ever 
 struck up with. Why, when John Thompson — 
 and he was a locus preacher — was a runnin' for tax 
 collector, he jest went plumb blind and deaf till the 
 election was over." 
 
 It was evident Roger was going to be beaten if 
 he continued his course. Col. Billups came to 
 him. " See here, Lawson, you must be elected. 
 Too much depends on it to let scruples stand in 
 the way. I know you are right in principle, but 
 we are now in a war, and all is fair in love and 
 war. There is no moral wrong in simply holding 
 some things in abeyance and allowing some things 
 questionable to be done for greater good." 
 
 " But, Colonel, I cannot. I owe you much, but 
 I can't do this; it is wrong." 
 
 Roger was to be beaten, so everybody said. 
 The election came on. The vote at Clarksville 
 would settle it. James Bass and the Squire were 
 at work at their precinct and would take care of 
 that. A crowd of Confederate soldiers were on 
 hand in town, and Andy Rhodes, who had come 
 back from the Nation, was there. He had just 
 come in the week before. He had done his best 
 
"get thee behind me, SATAN." 24I 
 
 for Roger, and now when the election came on 
 Andy was at work for his friend. The tide seemed 
 against Roger, but there were many friends who 
 stood by him. At last Dr. Phillips said: "Andy, 
 3'ou were born in the cove ; you know the boys 
 there; you must make a speech." 
 
 *' O yes ! O yes ! O yes ! Andy Rhodes is going 
 to make a speech." 
 
 The crowd drew near. Andy jumped on a 
 
 goods box. " Boj^s," he said, "you know Andy 
 
 Rhodes is better at fightin' than speakin', and you 
 
 know he hain't the best man in the world, and he 
 
 is a leetle too fond maybe of mountain dew; but 
 
 you know Andy never goes back on a friend. 
 
 Now Roger Lawson's daddy was rich, and there 
 
 weren't nobod3''s daddy poorer than mine; but 
 
 Capt. Lawson use to speak kind to me when I 
 
 was a barfoot boy, and when my daddy died he 
 
 bought the coffin for my old mammy, and when 
 
 he went to the war I went with him, and out in 
 
 camp at Cotton Hill I tuck the mumps ; and then 
 
 I had the measles, and come mighty nigh a dyin' ; 
 
 and this here sam.e Roger Lawson, he nussed me 
 
 like a baby. I was with him when he was shot 
 
 the fust time, and I tuck him offen the battlefield; 
 
 and I seed him when he fell at Gett3^sburg. I 
 
 know him, and so do you. He's the ginuine stuff. 
 16 
 
242 THK BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 If Bill McAtee, who is a tryin' to beat him, ever 
 smelt gunpowder, or ever helped a poor man, who 
 ever hearn of it? When the Widder Jenkins was 
 about to lose her land, who saved it for her? " 
 
 "Why, Capt. Lawson did, bless his heart!" 
 said an earnest and excited voice, " and I wish I 
 had a hundred votes. He should have every one 
 of 'em." It was the voice of the widow. She 
 had just come to town. 
 
 " Boys, will you go back on a one-armed Con- 
 fed, say will you? " 
 
 " No ! no ! hurrah for Lawson ! " 
 
 And so Roger went to the Legislature by a hand- 
 some majority. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 SOME SURPRISES. 
 
 TfT is not my purpose to tell of Roger's life 
 * as a legislator, nor to give a history of that 
 motley body known as the Bullock Legislature. 
 The time has not come, perhaps, to speak of these 
 things dispassionately, and we are not yet, it may 
 be, able to do justice to all concerned; and then, 
 besides, I am not writing a history of events, but 
 telling a story of how one of my young country- 
 men, by energy and uprightness, overcame the ob- 
 stacles that were thrown in his way by the unpar- 
 alleled changes of the war. Nor need I try to 
 conceal the fact that the aim of this little chronicle 
 is to arouse in the hearts of m}'- young countr3^men 
 aspirations after noble things, and that my story 
 has a moral. It has been too generally accepted 
 as a truth that young men are to be ruled by pas- 
 sion and appetite ; that tenderness to mothers and 
 consideration for sisters and, above all, loyalty to 
 God are not to be expected in the average 3^oung 
 man of good position. In these days when young 
 
 men are divided into two classes — men and so- 
 
 (243) 
 
244 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ciety men — I would be glad for my young readers 
 to see, nqt a faultless young fellow, but one who 
 had genuine piety and a high sense of gentlemanly 
 honor and spirit of honest independence, which he 
 cherished as his next best possession, and who 
 was not to be conquered by difficulties. He was 
 soon found to be a legislator with whom it was use- 
 less to lobby, and men who had schemes passed 
 by the young member from Habersham to try their 
 arts elsewhere. The temptations which surrounded 
 the young member of the Legislature were not a 
 few, but it was soon seen that those who kept the 
 private bottle in the committee room, or who formed 
 the Poker Club, which met in the same place, or 
 who went to the disreputable exhibitions, or worse 
 houses, which are always found in a city in which 
 legislative sessions are held, had no attractions for 
 him; nor did the sneers at the Christian states- 
 man, or the Puritan in politics, have any influence 
 over him. But if I keep my promise not to write 
 a history of these, the darkest days Georgia ever 
 saw, I must leave my young legislator in the Opera 
 House in Atlanta, which had just been secured 
 for the use of the government, and go to Haber- 
 sham to see Helen and her mother. " Ivy Bush " 
 had been wonderfully transformed in these two 
 years. As Roger's means increased he added to 
 
SOME SURPRISES. 245 
 
 the comforts of his mother's home. And old 
 Jack, long his mistress's gardener, too eld now 
 to do much more than work around the house, 
 was constantly improving the garden and grounds. 
 Beautiful woodbines had been brought by him 
 from the woods and planted around the front 
 piazza; the sweet shrub and honeysuckle had 
 been transplanted from the woods to the garden; 
 a number of roses, white and red, were in the 
 yard; and the old time flowers, touch-me-nots and 
 jonquils and nasturtiums and hyacinths and tulips 
 and verbenas and pinks and dahlias, were in rich 
 abundance. The neglected orchard had been 
 pruned, and new trees had been planted, and old 
 Jack had made the kitchen garden contribute 
 richly to the comforts of the table. The flocks of 
 geese and ducks which floated so gracefully on 
 the waters of the Sequee, and the crowds of chick- 
 ens, large and small, and of turkeys, dignified 
 and venerable, told of Helen's thrift and Mam- 
 my's care. The triweekly mail brought the JSfezu 
 York Observer of old times, a little too highly 
 flavored with war seasoning yet, but still the good 
 old Observer^ and now Roger's Advocate and the 
 weekly secular papers came regularly to break 
 anything like seclusion from the world. " Dear 
 Aunt Bass," as Helen called her, was still able to 
 
246 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 come over and spend the day, and the wife of 
 James came with her and brought her two little 
 girls, who thought Aunt Helen was their kins- 
 woman in reality. The little pony carriage fur- 
 nished the mother and daughter a conveyance to 
 Salem, where Helen attended the Sunday school, 
 and where James Bass, in Roger's absence, super- 
 intended it. She was still a Presbyterian . A Meth- 
 odist Presbyterian, she pleasantly called herself; 
 but Mr. Wood, the Methodist preacher, was at 
 *' Ivy Bush " as often as he was at Squire Bass's, 
 and as much at home there. Was there ever, will 
 there be ever, a sweeter, cleaner, purer society 
 than the country neighborhoods of Georgia used 
 to present, and I hope present us still? 
 
 Helen was as happy as a bird. The sick knew 
 her, the poor loved her, and while the rustics stood 
 a little in awe of one who, ladj^-born, lady-bred, and 
 lady-clad, could not but show what she was, there 
 was not one of the plainest girls who did not re- 
 spect her, nor one of the boys who would not have 
 died in her defense. The plain, uneducated, bad- 
 ly dressed girls who came from the hills around 
 Salem soon learned that she had no feeling of con- 
 tempt for them, but was their friend, and her in- 
 fluence told in all the section about. She had one 
 of the outhouses at "Ivy Bush" fitted up, and 
 
SOME SURPRISES. 247 
 
 opened a school, and had a houseful of young 
 pupils. 
 
 While she was so faithfully at work there was 
 quite a surprise in store for them all. Gen. Law- 
 son had one hundred shares of Rosevelt Factory 
 stock, counted as worthless, but which he had not 
 disposed of. Judge Hansford, who was President 
 of the company, had time to time written to Roger 
 that he was rebuilding and refurnishing the mill, 
 and had some hope that after all there would be a 
 time, not far in the future, for paying dividends. 
 One day in Atlanta he met Roger. " Well, Cap- 
 tain, I'm glad to say the old Rosevelt is on her 
 feet again. The Directors on Saturday declared a 
 semiannual dividend of three dollars a share, and 
 I will have the Treasurer to send you a check for 
 it to-morrow." 
 
 Roger had long wished to return to his old 
 friend, Bingham, the amount of money that he 
 had loaned him, but he had not been able to do so. 
 He resolved to send him this three hundred dollars. 
 He had heard no word from him for three years. 
 Bingham had not written to him, very naturally, 
 for he did not know where he was, and Roger was 
 not willing to write to him in those days of bitter 
 agitation, for he feared lest any approach on his 
 part might have been construed im.properly. So 
 
248 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 he had kept silence; but now he could safely 
 break it, and he wrote to his old friend : 
 
 House of Representatives, 
 
 Atlanta, Ga., Nov., 1868. 
 
 My Dear Tank: I have often thought of you, and how grate- 
 fully jou can never know, since we parted at Fort Delaware; 
 but you know how a gentleman feels and how impossible it has 
 been for me, during the last three years, to do other than pre- 
 serve the silence which has marked my course. But while I 
 have said nothing, I assure you that you have had as warm a place 
 in my heart as any living man. But I am not going to afflict you 
 with a long letter, or with sentiment. You were kind enough 
 when I needed it to give mc a help which I valued very much 
 then and have been grateful for ever since. I should have made 
 some recognition of your kindness long ago if I could have 
 done so, but nearly all we had was swept awaj', and I was not 
 able to do as I wished. I am glad to say I can now repay the 
 loan in part, and I inclose you $300, New Yoi-k exchange. 
 
 We are living in a pleasant little home in the mountains, at 
 •' Ivy Bush," near Clarksville, in Habersham County. There 
 are only three of us: mother, Helen, and I. Old Jack and 
 Mammy and our old friend, Young Jack, now the happy father 
 of two black cherubs, are with us. 
 
 I suppose, of course, you are married ; and if you can come 
 South, I wish you would come and see us and bring your wife. 
 You can reach us easily now by a new railroad, the Air Line 
 from Atlanta to Charlotte. 
 
 Truly yours. Roger Lawson. 
 
 In a week Roger received the following: 
 
 Office Binghamton Mills, 
 
 Binghamton, Conn., December 7, 1868. 
 My Dear yohnny: I cannot tell you how glad I was to hear 
 
SOME SURPRISES. 249 
 
 from jou. I have been hoping to get a word from you for all 
 these years. I am almost sorry you remembered the trifling 
 kindness I showed you when you were in want of it. I am glad 
 you are where I knew you would go when I parted from you: 
 at the front. 
 
 I am here in the cotton mill. My good father had a large 
 interest in this enterprise, and when he died, which he did two 
 years ago, I was elected President of the company, and am now 
 quite a man of business. 
 
 No, I am not married. I wonder where you got that idea. 
 I hope to be some time, when I can find the right kind of a girl, 
 but I have not found her yet. My dear mother and sister Clara 
 are with me, or rather I am with them. 
 
 I thank you for the invitation you gave me, and I hope next 
 spring to avail myself of it, as I wish to come South; and then, 
 too, I would like so much to see your mother and sister again. 
 So I think I will take Clara and run down South in May, and 
 stop at " Ivy Bush " to see you. 
 
 Give my kindest regards to your mother when you write, and 
 Miss Helen, and don't forget Jack. Congratulate him for me 
 on his propitious marriage. 
 
 Truly yours. John H. Bingham. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MAY FLOWERS. 
 
 M^*kHEN Col. Bingham went home after receiv- 
 
 ing the letter from Roger he handed it to 
 his sister, who read it to her mother. " Well," said 
 his sister, " are you going? " 
 
 " Yes, I am going, and I want you to go with 
 me." 
 
 "Me? Why, I am not invited." 
 
 " No, but my wife is, and you must take her 
 place." 
 
 " Why, my son," said the mother, " you are not 
 in earnest, are you? " 
 
 "Yes, mother; I want Clara to see the South, 
 and I have some business with a firm in Atlanta, 
 and must go there, and then I want to see the 
 people who were so kind to me." 
 
 "But are you not afraid of the Kuklux? the 
 Tribune says that a Northern man's life is in dan- 
 ger in Georgia unless he is a Democrat." 
 
 "Yes, so it does, and perhaps it thinks so; but 
 I know that it is not true. So when 3^ou go in 
 May to Sister Mary's, I will take Clara with me to 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 25 1 
 
 Georgia. When I tell you that Mrs. Lawson is a 
 Presbyterian, and reads the New York Observer, 
 you will be willing to trust us in her care, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Yes, I reckon there are some good people 
 down in the unhappy country'; and I know that 
 she must be one of them. I can never forget how 
 kind they all were to you, and I think, if you can, 
 you ought to go ; but I am afraid that it is a little 
 risky." 
 
 The spring months came on, and the proposed 
 journey was made. To the Connecticut maiden 
 the journey was of unceasing interest. She had 
 never been farther south than New York, and now 
 Philadelphia and Baltimore and Washington and 
 Richmond were each visited, and then in the early 
 part of May the cars stopped at Mt. Airy, and the 
 handsome young Federal colonel and his gentle sis- 
 ter stepped off. Roger was there to meet them, 
 and Helen had come with him. She took the 
 stranger girl by the hand, and kissed her as tender- 
 ly as if she had been her sister. The meeting of 
 Roger and Bingham was like that of two school- 
 boys."^ 
 
 The letter from Clara to her mother, however, 
 tells the story better than I can: 
 
 " Ivy Bush," Haeersham Co., Ga. 
 
 My Dear Mother: Well, here I am. I can hardly believe 
 
252 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 that I am awake, everything is so strange and new to me. Our 
 journey was an ovation. Tlie hurried letters I sent jou can 
 give you but a faint idea of the great pleasure with which a 
 Connecticut girl visits the South for the first lime. In Rich- 
 mond I was delighted beyond measure. I went to the capitol, 
 went into the old library, saw the pictures of the old gentlemen 
 of the colony, visited Libby Prison and Belle Isle, and rode 
 over the battlefields; and after our visit there was over, we took 
 the railroad, going to Danville, and thence through North Car- 
 olina and the foothills of the mountains, until we reached Mt. 
 Airy. This is merely a station on the railroad. Clarksville is 
 six miles north of it, and " Ivy Bush," where we are staying, is 
 on the Se^uee, three miles from Clarksville. 
 
 Helen and her brother were there to meet us. She kissed 
 me like she had known me always, and greeted brother like an 
 old friend. They had an old time carriage, and an old colored 
 man (Uncle Jack, we call him) to drive it. Two fat mules were 
 hitched to it. We did not go very fast, but if our team had been 
 a fast one, the roads would have prevented it, for they are too 
 hilly for fast travel. 
 
 We reached " Ivy Bush " about dark. Mrs. Lawson was 
 looking for us. She is a dear old lady, who reminds me very 
 much of you. She has a sweet, sad look on her face, and is 
 very quiet. Poor woman! she has had a world of trouble. Her 
 children are so sweet to her! Capt. Lawson is so thoughtful 
 and gentle, and Helen takes all care from her. Dear old 
 Mammy always calls her child yet, and watches over her like 
 she was a child sure enough. 
 
 " Ivy Bush " is the sweetest, sunniest place that you ever 
 saw, and the house as cozy as you would wish. Helen and I 
 have the same room, and so have Capt. Lawson and brother, 
 for the house is not a large one. 
 
 They have three servants. Aunt Judy, the cook, has been 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 253 
 
 with them always, and Mammy used to nurse Mrs. Lawson. 
 Chloe, v.ho does the housework, is the wife of Jack, who took 
 care of brother and Capt. Lawson when they were both wounded. 
 It is just as nice here as it can be, and I am delighted. I will 
 write you more when I see more. I just send you this now. 
 Affectionately, Clara. 
 
 To a young woman from a New England village, 
 the change to the mountains of Upper Georgia 
 was a striking one, and Clara was thoroughly de- 
 lighted with all she saw. Indeed, there are few 
 sections of the country which are more attractive, 
 in many of their features, than the mountain 
 country of Upper Georgia; and in the middle of 
 May, when the honeysuckle is in its glory, and 
 robed in white and pink and crimson and orange, 
 it sheds its fragrance to the breeze. When the 
 dogwood is in its bridal robe, when there is the 
 yellow jasmine and the red woodbine, and when 
 the calycanthus with its exquisite perfume, and the 
 red buds, and the grandfather graybeards, and the 
 hawthorn, with the beautiful white clusters, and 
 the fragrant crab apples are everywhere, and when 
 beneath the feet are the violets and trilliums and 
 pink roots and sweetbriers and ladies' slippers 
 and the trailing arbutus, when the mocking bird 
 sings, and the redbird flits like a flash of fire, and 
 bluebirds twitter, and the humming birds dash 
 from flower to flower — when all this was around 
 
254 '^^^^ ^^^' ^^ GRAY. 
 
 the fair girl, no wonder she was carried away 
 with delight. 
 
 Roger and Bingham, witli their fishing rods, for 
 the season of shooting was over, spent their days 
 on the Sequee fishing for the black bass and the 
 salmon trout and the smaller fish which are found 
 in the stream. Bingham could only spend a w^eelc 
 or two, and so Roger devoted all his time to him. 
 A part of the time was given up to excursions. 
 They went to the beautiful Nacoochee Valley and 
 to Tallulah. Clara must tell in her letter of these 
 journeys : 
 
 " Ivy Cusii," May, 1869. 
 3f_y Darling Mother : I have just returned from a most de- 
 lightful excursion. Capt. Lawson made up a party to go over 
 to Nacoochee and Mt. Yonah. There were six of us: Capt. 
 Lawson, Mr. Bass, Brother, and INIrs. BaSs, Helen, and I. V/e 
 had fourteen miles to ride, so we began our journey as soon as 
 it was bright enough to see our way. Our road was largely 
 tlirough forests until we reached the Nacoochee Valley, which 
 is about two miles long. The Chattahoochee winds its way like 
 a silver thread through the middle of it. Beautiful forest-cov- 
 ered mountains are on every side of it, and Mt. Yonah, the 
 loftiest of them, where Ave were going, borders it. We drove 
 up the mountain until we could no longer drive, and then 
 climbed on foot to the top. The view from this point was in- 
 describably grand and beautiful. The vale of Nacoochee, with 
 its charming little farms, nestled like a garden at our feet. 
 The beautiful Chattahoochee wound its way southward. 
 Looking south, as far as the eye could see was an ocean of 
 green; for from the height on which we were it appeared to be 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 255 
 
 an almost unbroken forest. Looking north and east and west, 
 there were mountains, mountains, mountains. Tlie indescrib- 
 able purplish tint of the nearer ranges faded away into the del- 
 icate blue of the far-distant peaks which tower above the blue 
 range in North Carolina and Tennessee. There was no point 
 to which the eye could be turned where there was not grandeur 
 and beauty. We spent the morning on the mountain, and in 
 the afternoon we came back to " Ivy Bush " again. Day after 
 to-morrow we are to go to Tallulah, where Capt. Lawson says 
 I will see the most picturesque scene this side of the Rocky 
 Mountains. I am wonderfully well. My cheeks are tanned a 
 little by being in the sun so much, but my appetite is magnifi- 
 cent, and Aunt Judy tries herself cooking for me. 
 
 Lovingly, Clara. 
 
 While Col. Bingham and Roger were watching 
 their corks as they were fishing for salmon trout 
 in the pool below the fall on the river, they talked 
 freely, as they had often done, of the condition 
 of public affairs. Each had found place for a 
 change of view on many subjects, and each with 
 sturdy honesty hel'd to those opinions which he 
 thought were true. That day the question of the 
 tariff and its effects was being discussed. Roger 
 was for free trade; Bingham, for the tariff. 
 
 " Johnny," said his friend, " if I were selfish, I 
 would want the tariff protection retnoved ; and if 
 you were selfish, you would certainly wish it re- 
 tained. Do you know that this part of Georgia is 
 destined to be the great workshop of America? 
 
256 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 New England cannot present one-half of the ad- 
 vantages you have here for manufacturing, and 
 our factories are already established, and need no 
 help. Not so here. Take the spot where we are 
 sitting. Here is water power sufficient to run one 
 hundred thousand spindles. It never fails. Here 
 is stone enough at your very door for every build- 
 ing you can wish, and here is timber in the 
 greatest abundance. Here are the people to work 
 the mills at reasonable wages, and here is the cot- 
 ton right at your door to spin, were your factories 
 already built as ours are. You can make yarn 
 and muslin, and ship it to Binghampton and sell it 
 for twenty-five per cent, profit, and then undersell 
 us if we sold at cost." 
 
 "Well, all that, Yank, may be true, but that 
 does not make protection right. But I argue with 
 you as to its benefit to us if we could take advan- 
 tage of it. But we have no capital; and, as my 
 old friend, Col. Howard, says: * You can't get a 
 goose to water without capital.' " 
 
 " That is true, also, but there is an over abund- 
 ance of capital in New England. It is timid, but 
 will go where it is safe and where it promises to 
 give a good return. Now, suppose we form a 
 company. You put in this water power and this 
 quarry and fifty acres of land at about $10,000, 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 257 
 
 and I will put up that amount in money, and I am 
 sure I can stock up a company with $100,000 
 capital." 
 
 "Agreed! " said Roger. 
 
 "Look out! there goes your cork," and the 
 conversation suddenly came to a halt, as the Con- 
 necticut colonel drew a splendid trout to the shore. 
 
 The next day the visitors were to go to Tallu- 
 lah. It was too much of a journey to go and re- 
 turn in a day, so the tourists went the afternoon 
 before and spent the next day at the falls, and of 
 what they saw Clara wrote her mother in an en- 
 thusiastic letter. The estimate of the fair maiden 
 will be fully indorsed by any one who ever looked 
 upon Tallulah, which is one of the most unique 
 and magnificent spectacles presented east of the 
 Rocky Mountains. The Tallulah River, which 
 rises in the mountains of Rabun, in Upper Geor- 
 gia, is a stream of considerable size when, spark- 
 ling and bright and free, it dashes into a deep ra- 
 vine in Habersham. Through this narrow ravine, 
 between mountains of sandstone which tower hun- 
 dreds of feet above the river bed, the river comes 
 hurrying, at first playfully, then earnestly, then an- 
 grily. It meets obstructions in the precipices which 
 cross its channel, then it sweeps on and, foam- 
 ing in its rage, roaring in its anger, it rushes down- 
 17 
 
258 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 ward until it loses itself in the grand chasm. No 
 wonder the Indians called it "The Terrible." 
 This great chasm is nearly one thousand feet deep, 
 and on every side tower the walls of the preci- 
 pice, and in their bosom is embraced the limpid 
 stream, which is now calm and peaceful after its 
 terrific passion. No one can look on such a scene 
 without a thrill and almost an ecstasy of delight. 
 Clara wrote to her mother: 
 
 " Ivy Bush," May. 
 My Darling Mother : I did not know there was in the world, 
 much less in Georgia, which I have always looked upon as a 
 dreary plain of ponds and pine woods, such a magnificent scene 
 as that which we looked on yesterday. Capt. Lavvson told me 
 Tallulah had no equal this side of the Rocky Mountains, and 
 I am sure he is right; and brother says that if he had choice of 
 spending a second week at Niagara or at Tallulah he would 
 take Tallulah every time. 
 
 The river is not a large one. It is as clear as crystal and as 
 blue as the sky. It comes sweeping down between high moun- 
 tains, which slope gradually down about a hundred feet from 
 the river bed, and then become bare precipices. Above this 
 they are covered with cedars and ivy. There are rude path- 
 ways made along the stream on one of its banks, and from the 
 brink of the precipice, over which the water dashes, you can 
 look down into the boiling waves, where the rainbow contin- 
 ually flashes in beauty. 
 
 At last the river rushes into the grand chasm, an immense 
 amphitheater whose walls are near one thousand feet high. 
 Here we rested, and while Helen and I were gathering pebbles 
 and flowers brother and Capt. Lawson, unpoetic fellows, were 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 259 
 
 trying to catch some fish. I am glad to say they did not suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 I cannot begin to describe the scenes around us here. They 
 are in such variety and there is such a mingling of beauty and 
 grandeur that when I begin to write I am bewildered. 
 
 We spent several hours in the grand chasm, and had our lunch 
 there, and then we began the task of climbing out. There is 
 only one way of egress, where the rocks are not bare and steep. 
 It requires a climb of nearly a mile to get back to the heights 
 again. We were thoroughly done up when we reached the I'oad. 
 We had a pleasant ride homeward, and reached " Ivy Bush " 
 about dark. 
 
 I can't tell you what a pleasant time I have had with these 
 kind-hearted Southerners. Brother and Capt. Lawson sit down 
 and talk about the war and shooting at each other, just as if it 
 was nothing; and when Col. Billups came out to spend an even- 
 ing he was just as kind to brother as if they had been in the 
 same army. 
 
 Let me tell you of something which touched me very much. 
 The other day Helen had gone to see a sick neighbor, and 
 brother and Capt. Lawson had gone to the village to fix up 
 some papers, and I was sitting under the oak tree in an easy- 
 chair reading, when the gate opened and I saw a regular Geor- 
 gia " cracker." She was dressed in a dress of yellow homespun 
 made in the style of a hundred years ago. She had on a sun- 
 bonnet of cheap calico; her shoes were brogans. She had a 
 hard face, but a kindly one, and had a very bright eye. She 
 evidently took me for Helen. She came up to me and said in^ 
 a very curious tone: " Is you Capt. Lawson's sister.'" 
 
 *' No, ma'am ; I'm a stranger." 
 
 " You is ? Whar is you from .-' " 
 
 " From Connecticut." , 
 
 "Connecticut.'' whar is that.'"* 
 
26o THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 " Why away up North." 
 
 " What? is you a yankee? " 
 
 " Well, that's what they call us." 
 
 " Well, the yankees killed my husband, and he never done 
 'em no harm. Is you Capt. Lawson's folks.''" 
 
 " No, only his friend." 
 
 "Well, ef you is his friend, I is your friend." 
 
 "You like him, then.?" 
 
 "Like him! I love the very ground he walks on, and you 
 would not wonder as I do ef you knowed what he's dun for 
 me." 
 
 " What did he do? " I said. 
 
 " Well, when I was a pore widder with four little childern 
 and my daddy was dead and old Bill Hillborn stole my land, 
 Capt. Lawson got it back for me, and I never paid him a cent, 
 and old Bill Ilillborn could have almost made him rich. I 
 hain't been able to do nothin' for him yit, but I knit these socks 
 this winter and I've brung 'em to him. As his sister hain't here, 
 I w'ish you would give 'em to him." 
 
 She handed me a half-dozen pairs of plain, country-knit 
 socks as her present. It was a rather awkward thing for a 
 young lady to give such a present to a gentleman, and when 
 Helen came I handed the quaint gift to her with the message of 
 love the woman had left for him. 
 
 You need not smile. I certainly am not in love with the 
 unreconstructed young rebel ; but it is not often you see one 
 more worthy of a woman's love. Helen is a jewel, but how they 
 could be other than what they are with such a mother I could 
 hardly see. 
 
 Our visit is nearly at an end. To-morrow we are going to 
 Atlanta, and thence to Savannah and by steamer to New York. 
 Brother sends love. 
 
 Affectionately, Clara. 
 
MAY FLOWERS. 26l 
 
 The last night of the stay of the visitors had 
 come. They were on the porch of the cottage sit- 
 ting under the woodbines. The honeysuckle vine 
 breathed its fragrance on the air, and the gentle 
 breeze from the hills brought the sweet odor of the 
 wild grape on its bosom. The moon was full, and 
 the moonbeams came softly through the vines. The 
 young people had just come from the sitting room, 
 where Roger had held the evening family worship, 
 and now they sat there on the vine-covered porch. 
 There were the rustic seats in the front yard under 
 two large oaks, and they went out into the yard 
 and occupied them. What they said to each other 
 as they sat there in the moonlight I never knew. 
 Indeed, I think that eavesdropping is not the proper 
 thing to do. I simply know that they talked long 
 and softly. The weird notes of the whip-poor-will 
 came from the grove, and the low murmur of the 
 waterfall fell on the ear. The sky was bright, the 
 air was balmy, the young people were susceptible^ 
 and if anything had happened it would not have 
 been a strange event. 
 
 Col. Bingham looked somewhat thoughtful that 
 night, and said little. And the next day when 
 they parted at Mt. Airy there was a strange reserve 
 in Helen's manner toward him, while her warm em- 
 brace told Clara of her sadness at her going. 
 
262 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 "Johnny, old fellow," Bingham said, "you do 
 not know how much I have enjoyed this reunion. 
 May the union of our hearts be t37pical of the un- 
 ion of this sadly divided country ! Come to Con- 
 necticut, and let me show you that a cold-blooded 
 yankee has a warm place in his heart for even an 
 unmitigated rebel such as you are." 
 
 The cars moved off, and there was a real feel- 
 ing of loss at " Ivy Bush " when the visitors were 
 gone. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ORANGE FLOWERS. 
 
 fHE mail to Clarksville came now every day, 
 and almost every other day Miss Helen Law- 
 son received a letter from somebody, I don't know 
 who. I never read these letters, nor did I read 
 those written in a lady's hand which went to Col. 
 J. H. Bingham, at Binghamton, Conn. 
 
 I heard some very ill-natured things said about 
 the way Col. Bingham had been treated at " Ivy 
 Bush," but they were said by Bill McAtee. He 
 said that " any man who would treat the enem}- of 
 his country as Roger Lawson had treated Col. 
 Bingham, instead of being in the Legislature ought 
 to be in the penitentiary." 
 
 Andy Rhodes heard him say it, and in his quaint 
 way he said, with some expressions I omit: "Bill 
 McAtee, you've never got over Roger Lawson' s a 
 beatin' you for the Legislature. Now, you'd better 
 dry up ! Everybody knows that you hid out o' the 
 war, and got among Joe Brown's pets, and never 
 done nothin' but grumble; and I jist tell you that 
 Roger Lawson is too much of a gentleman to no- 
 tice you; but Andy Rhodes hain't, and if you want 
 
 (203) 
 
264 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 to keep his hands offen 3^ou, you jest keep 3^our 
 tongue offen Roger Lawson ! " 
 
 Roger had gone on steadily in his work. Col. 
 Billups took him into partnership, and the firm of 
 Billups & Lawson was the leading firm of lawyers 
 in the upcountry. 
 
 I was on my circuit when I received this letter 
 from Roger. It was written in October, 1869: 
 
 My Dear Parson : My Sister Helen expects to be married to 
 Col. J. H. Bingham, of Connecticut, on the 30th inst. She de- 
 sires, as we all do, that you should perform the ceremony. 
 Come over to " Ivy Bush," and go with us to the church at Sa- 
 lem, where she is to be married. 
 
 Affectionately your old friend, Roger Lawson. 
 
 I reached Mt. Airy, where I was to meet Roger, 
 and found Col. Bingham and his sister. They 
 were going to Clarksville, and expected to come out 
 the next day to " Ivy Bush." The express agent 
 called to Roger, and said: " I have some packages 
 for you." And there were a number evidently con- 
 taining wedding presents. Several small packages 
 were marked "valuable," and were directed to 
 Miss Helen Lawson. One of them came from 
 Binghamton, Conn. 
 
 When they reached home Roger handed his 
 sister the package from Connecticut, and when she 
 opened it there were 'Cao. jciveh that her father had 
 given her. In addition to them, there was a beau- 
 tiful watch. This was a present from the groom. 
 
ORANGE FLOWERS. 265 
 
 The secret was now out. The yankee officer 
 who was in Savannah was Col. Bingham, and the 
 • jewels had been bought for the bride when the 
 time should come that she should be his. 
 
 There was a box for Mrs. Lawson. One may- 
 know at once what it had in it. The Lawson sil- 
 ver was at home again. It had on it a simple card : 
 " With the grateful love of John H. Bingham." 
 
 The next day a little congregation met at Salem, 
 the country church. The wife of James Bass and 
 the school children had decorated the little church 
 with evergreens, and a congregation of loving 
 neighbors had come to the wedding. Roger and 
 Clara stood beside the sister, and Aunt Bass and 
 Uncle Bass sat each near the loving mother, and 
 I, the old chaplain of Col. Lawson's regiment, 
 read the beautiful service of our Church and mar- 
 ried the young folks, and never did I do that with 
 a firmer assurance than that this " holy estate had 
 been entered into reverently, discreetly, and in the 
 fear of God." 
 
 Aunt Judy was at home fixing up for the wed- 
 ding dinner, but Mammy and Uncle Jack were 
 here at the church, and among those who gave 
 their hands in congratulation there were none more 
 hearty than dear old Mammy and dear Uncle 
 Jack. 
 
266 THE BOY IN GRAY. 
 
 A small party — Squire Bass and his wife, and 
 James Bass and his wife, and Col. Billups and his 
 family — gathered around the table at " Ivy Bush " 
 to a sumptuous dinner whicli Aunt Judy and Chloe 
 had prepared, and Jack in all his glory was pres- 
 ent to welcome the guests and wait on the table. 
 
 Among the many gifts was a gorgeous brooch 
 from "Hon. Robert Lawson, Esq., of Liberty 
 County, to Miss Helen Lawson, with his compli- 
 ments." Bob's taste was not the best, but his 
 motives were the kindest. 
 
 The bride and groom and Clara went on a long 
 bridal tour to Florida, Mobile, and New Orleans; 
 and then to Connecticut, where the good old mother 
 and sister of Col. Bingham welcomed the Southern 
 bride with genuine tenderness. 
 
 The factory company was formed and the " Ivy 
 Bush Factory" was established, and after a few 
 years Col. Bingham left Connecticut and came to 
 Georgia and manages the mill. 
 
 Roger did not rrlarry Clara as you expected (she 
 married the Congregational minister in Bingham- 
 ton), but Miss Mary Billups. He was long ago 
 elected the judge of his circuit, and is trusted and 
 loved and honored by all his people. He is to-day 
 a Confederate veteran, but while on the best terms 
 with those who wore the blue, is never ashamed to 
 
ORANGE FLOWERS. 267 
 
 tell of the deeds of the " boy in gray; " and nothing 
 delights Helen's two "yankee boys," as she calls 
 them, more than to hear Uncle Roger tell of his 
 adventures, unless it is for the two rebel sons of 
 Roger to hear their Uncle John tell of the deeds 
 of the " boy in blue." 
 
 And now, under the somewhat flimsy covering 
 of a fiction, I have tried to tell the boys and girls 
 not exactly what I saw and felt, but what did oc- 
 cur during the war and after it. If one should 
 ask is who the real hero of this story, I perhaps 
 could not tell him. The fathers of my readers 
 can possibly call up the memory of more than one 
 who bore at least some part such as Roger bore, 
 and possibly their mothers knew of more than one 
 Helen who bravely bore her part as well. 
 
 I trust our children will all remember that at 
 fearful cost we their fathers settled some ques- 
 tions that the}' must never allow to be opened, and 
 the one settled forever is the fearful danger of 
 sectionalism. The strife which began in 1832 in 
 a bitter war of words between the South and the 
 North reached its natural end in the clashino- of 
 swords thirty years after that. This is our coun- 
 try — North, South, East, West — all ours, and the 
 blood and treasure it has cost has been poorly 
 spent if our children do not see it so. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 1006