December 4th, 1862.—Now, that the bullet has been extracted, Brother Amos is improving rapidly and he tells us many interesting things as he lies there so helpless. Last night his thoughts turned to the battle of Seven Pines; it seems that he, with a party of his company, was detailed to help to bury the dead. Some of those he found were acquaintances and two were kinsmen but the deepest interest with him centered in two young strangers, who were found clasped in each others arms. One wore the blue uniform and the other was a lieutenant in a Maryland regiment and wore the gray. They were of the same size and figure and when he looked into the poor dead faces they were exactly alike. He was so sure they must be brothers that he examined the papers in the pockets of each, and, sure enough, they must have been brothers—maybe twin brothers, as the last name was the same. In each boy’s pocket were letters from the same place in Maryland and though these letters were simply signed “Mother,” the writing was identical. They looked to be boys of twenty or perhaps less. He buried them still in that close embrace. The pine tree, beneath which they were found was carefully marked; some cannon balls were picked up and piled above them and when brother Amos returned to camp he wrote to that mother and told her all this.
I wonder why they were on opposite sides in this gigantic struggle. Will the poor, bereaved mother send and take them home or will they sleep on, under the Virginia pines? Brother Amos says he sent the contents of each boy’s pockets to the mother in Maryland. How her poor heart must ache.
Now brother Amos is able to sit up and can even stand with his crutches and we are going to a house party, at the home of his oldest brother. Mr. John Whitehead is too old for army duty and he is also too fat for a soldier. Three of his four brothers have been wounded and are convalescent and he is having a family reunion. Sister Mart and I are going, too, for the Whitehead girls are dear friends of ours. Mother has made me some pretty clothes and it would make a funny picture if I could portray the great amount of turning and fixing she had to do to get me “something out of nothing,” she says. We Southerners are copying Burns’ heroine, who “Gars auld cloes look amaist as weel’s the new.” I really believe I forgot my Scotch just there and should have written “noo.” I wish I could take my black mammy with me, it is bad getting on without her but she always has a baby.
December 1st, 1862.—It seems strange to think of fun and gaiety again, when we have been through so much of grief and horror. So much nursing, too, watching through sleepless nights, trying to soothe through the days of wild delirium, making one cooling poultice after another and wondering all the while if anything would ever help the poor sufferer.
July 5th, 1862.—Brother Junius spent the day with us yesterday. He gave us such an entertaining account of the winter on the St. Johns. He likes army life better than he expected. He says he never was fond of hunting and when he has to really go “Man-hunting” he will not like it at all.
He thinks they will break camp about the middle of August.
July 3rd, 1862.—We went yesterday to see the soldiers in camp. Brother Junius is as brown as a berry. I did not know blondes ever burned brown. I thought they only turned red. His uniform is extremely becoming. He did not get it until after he reached Palatka, so we had not seen him in it before.
There are two regiments beside the 5th and their tents make quite a show. We saw them drill, they looked fine, but the hot July sun must make them very uncomfortable. Mother took a large hamper of good things to eat and I heard her tell Brother Junius to share with the men who were far from their own people, said she would bring or send a similar hamper every day.
Mattie was delighted to see her father and she cried when Mother said it was time to go home. She said, “Mother, can’t we take papa, too?” The seven days battles around Richmond have filled the hospitals to overflowing; nearly every home is in mourning and the sound of “Rachel; for her children weeping,” is heard on every hand. We have so many dear ones in the army of Northern Virginia, and so far, we have not lost a single one. Father in Heaven we thank Thee. Mr. Blake preaches such beautiful, comforting sermons. I mark his text each Sunday and try to remember all he says. I told Mother, one Sunday when she was sick and could not attend church, what he had said in his sermon and she suggested that I get a blank book and write all I could remember of all his sermons. Next time we go to town I will get a book from Mr. McDougal.
July 1st, 1862.—Mother would like to omit the 4th of July festivities, but Father says the black folks must not be defrauded of their rights, so the preparations for the barbecue go on as usual. I cannot see that the war has made them a bit different unless it has made them more particular to do their work well. I believe we can trust our servants for if they had any unkind feelings they would certainly show it now. I am afraid my new pupils will not learn as rapidly as Frances. I am trying to teach them to read and write at the same time as she was taught. John tried a while on his slate and then he said, “I could do better if I had a pinter.” I thought he meant if I pointed out the letters to him but when that was tried he explained what he wanted. “I ain’t a wantin’ nobody to pint places fur me, I wants a pin-pinter lak doctor is got.” He had seen Father take his gold pen from his pocket to write with and it looked good to John’s eyes. Nathan draws frogs over his slate and David will not look at either book or slate, but my copy-book says “Patience and perseverance accomplish all things.”
Three days of each week are devoted to sewing for the soldiers. Often we sew steadily for days at a time, that is when we are getting up a special box to be sent by some soldier, who has been on a visit home and is returning to camp. Cousin Henry Bradford will take the box we are making ready now, he is a Major and certainly looks handsome in his beautiful uniform, just a single star on his collar and chevrons on his sleeves.
When we were at Old Point Comfort in 1857, I thought the blue uniforms with the gold epaulets were splendid; I wonder now how I ever liked them. Brother Junius is in camp near Tallahassee, at a place called Six-mile Pond. The 5th Regiment came up from Palatka last night. They have been drilling since last August and lately they have been guarding the St. Johns river; now they are to go to Virginia very soon. Captain Bernard has brought his family to the neighborhood to stay with Uncle Tom while he is away; Cousin Tom’s family have been there for some time. Uncle Tom is the only man left on the place; his hair is as white as snow, his three sons and Captain Bernard are all in the army; that is the way all over the length and breadth of the land. We who live on plantations have the advantage of our city friends, for we have so many negroes around us to help in all ways and to raise provisions, both for the home and for the army. We are entirely cut off from the rest of the world and if these things could not be raised we would be obliged to starve. So much for the blockade.
June 27th, 1862.—Brother Amos has been to Enfield to see Sister Mag and the children, though he could only stay twenty-four hours. He thinks his daughter is the prettiest baby he ever saw and Eddie wants to go back to camp with him.
Sister Mag says the wounded men are passing through Enfield every day. As soon as they are well enough to leave the hospital they are sent home or to some nearby place to be nursed back to health and other wounded men take their places in the hospitals. This is necessary for the fighting is almost continuous.
June 20th, 1862.—The tannery, under Mr. James, is a complete success. Father sent to Gadsden County for a shoemaker, and three of the black boys are working under him, learning the trade; he has three sons and they are motherless. John, the eldest, is fourteen years old, but is very small for his age; David is twelve and Nathan is nine; they have never been to school in their lives and Father wants me to teach them two hours every morning. I have taught Frances right along, since Grandpa gave her to me but I do not know if I can “instill knowledge,” as Dr. Cleveland says, into such unpromising specimens. However, I will try.
June 12th, 1862.—We have good news from the army of Northern Virginia; General Robert Lee has been appointed Commander in Chief. President Davis says there is not a more able officer in the Confederacy.
I finished my hundredth pair of socks today, usually I knit at night. We do not need a light to knit, but I wanted to finish this pair to complete the hundredth. I am learning to spin. The next pair I knit will be yarn of my own manufacture. Aunt Robinson, who taught me to knit, has completed three hundred pairs of socks and some stockings for herself. I do not believe I would ever have the patience to knit such long legs.
I am going boating this evening with Cousin Florence and Jewel Holland and Hattie. McBride is a pretty lake.
June 11th, 1862.—A letter from Sister Mag; the trip was a safe one and much pleasanter than she had anticipated; Grandpa and Grandma well and glad to see them; Eddie loved Grandpa right away and wants to follow him everywhere he goes. Now for the best part; Brother Amos is safe and sound. I had a letter from Cousin Joe in the same mail. He was almost broken-hearted when Cousin Sallie would not let him volunteer at the first when his schoolmates did, but Cousin Sallie told him he was all she had in the world, his father was dead; he did not have to go until he was eighteen and she wanted him to go to Chapel Hill, study as hard as he cound until the week before his eighteenth birthday and then come home and join the army. He did not want to do this but he has always been a most devoted son and he yielded his wishes to hers. He is coming back now to join Colonel Scott’s Battalion and he is happy.
June 2nd, 1862.—The wires are in working order and they bring us news of two big battles near Richmond, Seven Pines on the 31st of May and Fair Oaks on June 1st. The list of “killed, wounded and missing” will come later. Mother is not well today, we are afraid she has some fever.
