Life in Dixie during the War Part 25

And taking a lantern and leading the way to the kitchen, I entered and pointed to a light bedstead, and told her to carry a portion of it at a time to my room, and we would put it up in there.

"Same old room, jest like it was when me and my mammy used to sleep in it.

"Well, things do look mighty nateral if it has been a long time since I seed it.

"And Miss Mary is agoing to let me and my children sleep in her room.

Well!"

The bedstead having been placed in position, a mattress and bed clothing were furnished. And soon the little negro children were soundly sleeping under the protecting roof of their mother's former young mistresses.

"Whar's your teakettle, Miss Mary?" Having been told where to find it, Frances took it to the well and filled it with water, and, by adding a little more fuel to the fire, soon had it boiling.

"Whar's your bath-tub, Miss Mary?"

That, too, was soon produced and supplied with hot water, reduced to proper temperature. Memories of the past left no doubt in my mind as to the use to which the water was to be applied, and I determined to gratify every fancy that would give pleasure to our former handmaid, and, therefore, I made no resistance when garters were unbuckled, shoes and stockings removed, and feet tenderly lifted into the tub. She knew just how long to keep them there, and how to manipulate them so as to give the most satisfaction and enjoyment; and how to dry them--a very important process. And then the shoes and stockings were again put on, and giving me an affectionate pat on the head she told me to sit still until she told me to move.

"Now, whar's your comb and brush?"

The force of habit must have impelled her to ask this question, as, without awaiting an answer, she went to the bureau and got the articles about which she had asked, and in a few moments she had my long, luxuriant black hair uncoiled and flowing over my shoulders. She was delighted; she combed and braided it, and unbraided and combed it again and again, and finally, as if reluctant to do so, arranged it for the night.

"Now, whar's your gown?"

"You will find it hanging in the wardrobe."

Having undressed me, Frances insisted upon putting the gown on me, and then wanted to carry and put me in bed; this service, however, I declined with thanks. All these gentle manipulations had a soporific effect upon me, and I fain would have slept, but no such pleasure was in store for me.

Frances had an axe to grind, and I had to turn the grindstone, or incur her displeasure. Mark her proposition:

"Miss Mary, I come to give you my children."

"Your what?"

"My children, these smart little boys. I'll go with you to the court-house in the mornin' and you can have the papers drawn up and I'll sign 'em, and these little n.i.g.g.e.rs will belong to you 'til they's of age to do for theyselves; and all I'll ever ask you to do for me for 'em is to raise them like my Miss Polly raised me."

"That you should be willing to give your children away, Frances, surprises me exceedingly. If you are without a home, and would like to come here and live, I will do all I can for you and your children. The kitchen is not occupied, only as a lumber or baggage room, and you can have that without paying rent; and you can take care of the cow and have all you can make off of her milk and b.u.t.ter, except just enough for the table use of two; and you can have a garden without paying rent, and many other favors--indeed, I will favor you in every possible way."

"Well, I tell you how it is, Miss Mary. You see, mammy wants to open up a laundry, and she wants me to help her. She's done 'gaged several womens to help her, and she wants me to go in with her sorter as a partner, you see.

And I wants to get my children a good home, for you knows if I had to take care of 'em I couldn't do much in a laundry."

"And you want me to take care of them?"

"Yes'm; just like you used to take care of your own little n.i.g.g.e.rs before freedom, and after I sign the papers they'll belong to you, _don't you know_."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Frances, but I cannot accept your offer. If slavery were restored and every negro on the American continent were offered to me, I should spurn the offer, and prefer poverty rather than a.s.sume the cares and perplexities of the owners.h.i.+p of a people who have shown very little grat.i.tude for what has been done for them." Without seeming to notice the last sentence, Frances exclaimed:

"Well, it's mighty strange. White folks used to love little n.i.g.g.e.rs, and now they won't have them as a gracious gift."

Under the cover of night she had made her proposition and received her disappointment, after which she lay down by her children and was soon sleeping at the rate of 2:40 per hour, if computed by the snoring she kept up. In due time morning, cheerful, sun-lighted morning, came, and with it many benign influences and good resolutions for the day.

Frances asked where everything was, and having ascertained, went to work and soon had a nice, appetizing breakfast for us, as well as for herself and children. After that important meal had been enjoyed, she inquired about the trains on the Georgia Railroad, and asked what time she could go into Atlanta. I told her she could go at nine o'clock, but I preferred that she should stay until twelve o'clock, m.

"Miss Mary, what was in that trunk I saw in the kitchen last night?"

"I scarcely know; odds and ends put there for safekeeping, I suppose."

"May I have the trunk and the odds and ends in it? They can't be much, or they wouldn't be put off there."

"We will go and see." Again I took the kitchen key, and the trunk key as well, and having unlocked both receptacles, I told Frances to turn the contents of the trunks out upon the floor. When she saw them I noticed her disappointment, and I told her to remain there until I called her. I went in the house and got a pair of sheets, a pair of blankets, a quilt, several dresses and underclothing, and many things that she could make useful for her children, and put them together, and then called her and told her to take them and put them in the trunk.

"Look here, Miss Mary, you ain't going to give me all them things, is you?"

"Yes, put them in the trunk and lock it."

A large sack of apples, a gift also, was soon gathered and a boy engaged to carry it and the trunk over to the depot in a wheelbarrow. Promptly at half-past eleven o'clock the trunk and apples, and Frances and her little boys, were on the way to the depot, _en route_ to Atlanta, their future home, and even a synopsis of the subsequent achievements of that woman and her unlettered mother would be suggestive of Munchausen.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

HOW THE DECATUR WOMEN KEPT UP THE SABBATH SCHOOL.

A Brief Sketch of the Old Churches and the Union Sunday School--The Resumption of Church Services.

Before the war there were in Decatur but two churches, the Methodist and the Presbyterian; although Baptist and Episcopal services were occasionally held. The churches first mentioned had been organized about 1825. The Presbyterians first wors.h.i.+pped in a log church, and afterwards in a frame building, but in 1846 had erected a substantial brick church.

In this building was also taught the Decatur Union Sabbath School, organized in 1831, and for twenty-five years preceding the summer of 1864 it had been superintended by that G.o.dly man, Mr. Levi Willard.

The Federals had now come in. The church had been rifled of all its contents, including the pews. The faithful Sunday School superintendent with his lovely family soon after went away. Being nearer to our house, I remember more about the dismantling and refurnis.h.i.+ng of the Presbyterian church than of the Methodist. So far as can be ascertained, the last sermon at the Presbyterian church had been preached by Rev. James C.

Patterson, who was then living at Griffin, but was the stated supply of the pulpit here at that time. He will be remembered as a most G.o.dly man, and as a sweet singer of sacred songs.

The Sabbath before the entrance of the Federals, no service was held in the dear old church. The last prayer service had been held on Wednesday afternoon, led by Mr. Levi Willard, who was an efficient elder.

In July, 1864, but few families remained in Decatur; but there was still a goodly number of children and young people whose training must not be neglected. On the southwest corner of the Courthouse stood, and still stands, a long, narrow, two-story house. The lower story was occupied as a residence--the upper story, for many years preceding and succeeding these times, was the quarters of the Masonic Lodge. In the ante-room of this lodge, Miss Lizzie Mortin taught a day school. The first story of the building was now occupied by the family of Mr. John M. Hawkins. Mr.

Hawkins had enlisted in the army early in the war, but for some reason had returned home and been elected clerk of the court, which position he held until forced to leave before the advancing foe.

Mrs. Hawkins, whose maiden name was Valeria A. Perkins, the eldest daughter of Reuben Perkins of Franklin county, gladly opened her house on Sunday mornings that the children might be taught in the Sacred Scriptures. And thus a Sunday School was begun, and Mrs. Hawkins was made the superintendent.

Among the organizers and teachers may be mentioned Miss Cynthia Brown, Mrs. H. H. Chivers, Mrs. Eddleman, Miss Lizzie Morton, and Miss Lizzie McCrary. Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan, Mrs. Ammi Williams, and Mr. Fred Williams acted as a sort of advisory board. Rev. Dr. Holmes and Rev. P. F. Hughes, two elderly Baptist ministers, sometimes came; and Mr. R. J. Cooper, a G.o.dly layman, came a few times.

The names of some of these Sabbath school pupils can yet be re-called:--Charley, Guss and Lizzie Hawkins; their Cousins John, Sam, Ellen and Lizzie Hawkins, the children of Mr. Sam Hawkins, who is still living in Summerville, Georgia; the children of Mr. R. J. Cooper, and of Mrs. Eddleman, Mrs. Chivers, and of Mr. Ed Morton. There were others whose names I cannot recall.

The number of pupils increased to forty, and the school, having out-grown its quarters, was moved to the Court House; but when the Federals chose to occupy the Court House, the Sunday school was moved back to Mrs. Hawkins's home. The Bible was the text book; for there were no Sunday-school papers or song books.

Imagine the scene, if you can. Says one of the partic.i.p.ants, who was then a young girl: "We were a peculiarly dressed lot. I had a stand-by suit, the skirt made of a blanket shawl; with this I wore one of my brother's white s.h.i.+rts and a red flannel jacket. I had grown so fast that I was taller than my mother, and there was literally nothing large enough in our house or circle of friends to make me a whole suit. One of the ladies wore a gray plaid silk, a pair of brown jeans shoes, and a woven straw bonnet.

She had nothing else to wear. Many of the children were rigged out in clothes made from thrown-away uniforms, picked up, washed, and cut down by the mothers."

Mrs. Hawkins is still living near Decatur. She remembers that on several occasions the soldiers came in while the school was in session, much to the demoralizing of good order and comfort of mind. On one occasion the raiders piled barrels one on top of another, near the house, and set them afire, frightening the children very much.

When the war was over, the refugees began to return. Among the first were the families of Mr. J. W. Kirkpatrick, Mr. Ezekiel Mason, Captain Milton A. Candler, Dr. W. W. Durham, Dr. P. F. Hoyle, Mrs. Jane Morgan, Mrs.