CHAPTER I.

ON A BRIGHT AUTUMN DAY not many years after the close of the great Civil War, I started with my two sons on the steamer “Flambeau,” commanded by Captain Alfred Everson, from New York to Savannah, to join my husband, Captain James Biddle, U.S.A., who was then stationed at Macon, Georgia. The sea was as smooth as glass; great flocks of sociable gulls, each with a drop of water always on his bill, swarmed around to catch what might be thrown from the boat, and I and the little ones,—one fourteen months old, and the other barely two months—having been put under the captain’s special care by my father and brother-in-law. Captain Harmony, who were both sailors and knew the good sea qualities, also the good war record, of the captain, found the voyage delightful. Jack, the elder, ran about the ship taking care of himself, much to the amusement of the passengers, while Dave was such a splendid specimen of health and good humor he knew not what it was to be cross, so we were not avoided by our fellow-travellers, but on the contrary we received the greatest courtesy and kindness.

On arriving at Savannah the children and I were dressed ready to go ashore, and went on deck to see the captain bring the good ship into port. The dock was crowded with men and women who had come to meet their friends; I glanced over the crowd and soon saw my husband was not one of them. I was very young and inexperienced and suddenly felt myself growing ill; I knew no more, for I had fainted, falling on the deck of the steamer. An English gentleman passenger, a stranger, kindly picked me up and carried me to the captain’s room, tenderly laid me on a couch, and then summoned the ship’s surgeon. I was speedily brought to my senses and to the realisation that I was alone in a strange city with two infants, and a nurse scarcely older than myself. As soon as the captain got his ship made fast and had a moment he came to me. His great big sailor heart soon showed out, and he began to make plans for me. He telegraphed to Macon and soon arrangements were made for our journey, for I insisted upon going that evening. My husband had been detained at the last moment, being a member of a court-martial. He had telegraphed an officer stationed in Savannah asking him to meet me and make arrangements to send us to Macon; but either the ship got in earlier than was expected, or the officer forgot us. I like to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After an early dinner on the “Flambeau” (for the captain would not let us go to the hotel), he took me for a drive, to see the city with its lovely gardens, Pulaski Park of historic memory, and the beautiful old cemetery, Buena Vista. The city was regularly laid out with broad streets, and there were innumerable small parks, one at almost every corner; it was a lovely drive, and the captain’s kind thoughtfulness in trying to make me forget my trouble made such an impression upon me that I have never forgotten the day He passed into the unknown many years ago. “Requiescat in pace.”

About sundown we started for Macon, travelling at night as the day trains were very slow, stopping at almost every hamlet; the cars were small and old, the road-bed very poor, and there were no sleeping-cars. As the night time came on it grew very cold and damp; in fact I have never suffered more with cold than I did on that journey, and greatly feared my children would be made ill. However, as I said before, they were perfectly healthful and stood the night better than I did, for I had taken my warm wraps to cover them, and being far from strong and my anxiety great lest something serious had happened to prevent the Colonel from meeting me, passed a sleepless night. In the morning we were met at the station by my husband (who was always called “Colonel” from having held that rank during the war, and hereafter I shall call him by that title). He had never seen his second son, and I was very proud to show him the fine boy.

Six months previous, when the Colonel had been ordered to Macon, it was thought best for me and my young child “Jack” not to go south for the summer; besides, I was scarcely well enough at that time to take a long fatiguing journey, but now we had safely arrived, and all of our troubles were forgotten. We went to the hotel to rest a few days while the Colonel put a few last finishing touches to the little cabin that was to be our home. The garrison, where many of the officers and their families lived, was three miles from the city; it was very small, and there were no quarters for another family, so the Colonel had secured a small cabin (that had been used as negro quarters before the war) which was near the garrison. After it had been thoroughly cleaned with several coats of good sweet whitewash, it was made habitable, and when we got the little furniture we owned into it (for the Government allowed an officer but a few hundred pounds of freight), a few household gods that I always had about me, and a great big fire on the hearth, we had our first Army Home.

I soon got an old black Mammy for cook and she took care of ‘‘all youse chillins,” as she called me and the babies, and with the white nurse, Sally, that I had taken from home, we got along fairly well. The life was entirely new to me, but I soon discovered that I had adaptability, which made things easier. I was entirely without luxuries and comforts, and had many privations, but all of the army ladies had the same discomforts, though there were few complaints, and never by a thoroughbred. The war had desolated the whole surrounding country.

Our little cabin of four rooms stood alone in a large field about one hundred feet from a high embankment along which a railway ran. I was alone with my children most of the day except when the ladies and the officers of the garrison came in to see me. They were very kind (as I afterward learned most army women are), telling me what to do and how to do it, for I had much to learn; the officers came often to luncheon or dinner. Sometimes we would go in the kitchen and cook all kinds of things from receipt-books, as our amusements were few and the good things to eat fewer; there were not many first-class cooks to be found there. The first of my chafing-dish cooking that was years later so popular on the frontier, I learned at Macon. Often two or three of the young lieutenants and myself would get up a nice little supper and invite the older officers and their wives, and they generally pronounced them very good.

I well remember the first Christmas in the garrison. We invited all the officers and their families who lived at the hotel, as well as the young bachelor officers who were in the garrison, to dine with us. The carpenter made us a long table of boards nailed to wooden horses. We all sat on benches, except the Colonel and General Ruger, who commanded the district. The room was hung with evergreen and holly, which grows in great profusion in that climate. Old Mammy cooked us a delicious dinner under my directions, for my dear mother had insisted upon my learning to cook when I had decided to marry a soldier; for she realized the privations I would have to undergo much better than I did, as up to that time I had hardly had a serious thought. Our dinner was fine. We had two roasted turkeys and a fine tender goose, a champagned ham, lettuce salad, and an Old English plum-pudding, which my mother had sent from home. All of the dinner was put upon the table. The young officers—God bless them, many now lying in honored graves—served us when we could not help ourselves. Colonel Wykoff, who was killed long after at San Juan Hill, was one of those dear fellows. It was a very happy day, and I love to look back and recall those first days of my garrison experience. There were no conventionalities; life was very simple and the young officer looked up to his superiors with respect and admiration, trying to emulate them; for all of the older ones had distinguished themselves on the field of battle.

I also recall the first time I went to church in Macon, about three miles distant. I went alone, in the old Government ambulance, drawn by two mules. When I reached the church door there were many people standing about, especially men and young boys, and I felt myself “the observed of all observers.” I approached the church door with a beating heart, for I had heard of many acts of discourtesy being shown to Union people; but I went in and found a seat for myself, and enjoyed the beautiful service, forgetting for the time that I was not in my old “Saint John’s,” of Revolutionary date, in Elizabeth, New Jersey. The next Sunday, when I again went in the same old ambulance, I was politely met at the church door and given a seat in the front of the church. I afterward became acquainted with the rector and his charming wife, and made many friends in that delightful town of cultivated people, and although I lived there but four months we came to know and to understand the people well and I was sorry when the order came for us to go to Natchez, Mississippi.

After the receipt of the order for the change of station, we were very busy breaking up the little home. The cabin was soon dismantled, and soldiers packed the furniture, mattresses going into a long box that had served for a divan, and other things going into boxes that had been used as dressing-tables, washstands, tables, etc., etc. We were allowed but fourteen hundred pounds of freight, and we learned to utilize everything. The packing was soon done and good-byes said to all of our friends, including the dear old black Mammy, with genuine...