7th May (Thursday).—We started again at 1.30 A.M. in a smaller coach, but luckily with reduced numbers, viz.—the Louisianian Judge (who is also a legislator), a Mississippi planter, the boatswain, the Government agent, and a Captain Williams, of the Texas Rangers.
Before the day broke we reached a bridge over a stream called Mud Creek, which was in such a dilapidated condition that all hands had to get out and cover over the biggest holes with planks.
The Government agent informed us that he still held a commission as adjutant-general to ——. The latter, it appears, is a cross between a guerilla and a horse thief, and, even by his adjutant-general’s account, he seems to be an equal adept at both professions. The accounts of his forays in Arkansas were highly amusing, but rather strongly seasoned for a legitimate soldier.
The Judge was a very gentlemanlike nice old man. Both he and the adjutant-general were much knocked up by the journey; but I revived the former with the last of the Immortalité rum. The latter was in very weak health, and doesn’t expect to live long; but he ardently hoped to destroy a few more “bluebellies “[1] before he “goes under.”
The Mississippi planter had abandoned his estate near Vicksburg, and withdrawn with the remnant of his slaves into Texas. The Judge also had lost all his property in New Orleans. In fact, every other man one meets has been more or less ruined since the war, but all speak of their losses with the greatest equanimity.
Captain Williams was a tall, cadaverous backwoodsman, who had lost his health in the war. He spoke of the Federal general, Rosecrans, with great respect, and he passed the following high encomium upon the North-Western troops, under Rosecrans’s command—
“They’re reglar great big h—llsnorters, the same breed as ourselves. They don’t want no running after, —they don’t. They ain’t no Dutch cavalry[2]—you bet!”
To my surprise all the party were willing to agree that a few years ago most educated men in the south regarded slavery as a misfortune and not justifiable, though necessary under the circumstances. But the meddling, coercive conduct of the detested and despised abolitionists had caused the bonds to be drawn much tighter.
My fellow-travellers of all classes are much given to talk to me about their “peculiar institution,” and they are most anxious that I should see as much of it as possible, in order that I may be convinced that it is not so bad as has been represented, and that they are not all “Legrees,” although they do not attempt to deny that there are many instances of cruelty. But they say a man who is known to ill-treat his negroes is hated by all the rest of the community. They declare that Yankees make the worst masters when they settle in the South; and all seem to be perfectly aware that slavery, which they did not invent, but which they inherited from us (English), is and always will be the great bar to the sympathy of the civilised world. I have heard these words used over and over again.
All the villages through which we passed were deserted except by women and very old men; their aspect was most melancholy. The country is sandy and the land not fertile, but the timber is fine.
We met several planters on the road, who with their families and negroes were taking refuge in Texas, after having abandoned their plantations in Louisiana on the approach of Banks. One of them had as many as sixty slaves with him of all ages and sizes.
At 7 P.M. we received an unwelcome addition to our party, in the shape of three huge, long-legged, unwashed, odoriferous Texan soldiers, and we passed a wretched night in consequence. The Texans are certainly not prone to take offence where they see none is intended; for when this irruption took place, I couldn’t help remarking to the Judge with regard to the most obnoxious man who was occupying the centre seat to our mutual discomfort,—”I say, Judge, this gentleman has got the longest legs I ever saw.” “Has he?” replied the Judge; “and he has got the d—dest, longest, hardest back I ever felt.” The Texan was highly amused by these remarks upon his personal appearance, and apologised for his peculiarities.
Crossed the Sabine river at 11.30 P.M.
[1] The Union soldiers are called ”bluebellies” on account of their blue uniforms. These often call the Confederates “greybacks.”
[2] German dragoons, much despised by the Texans on account of their style of riding.
