April 17, 1865.—We have been very miserable the past few days. General McCook with his command were near Thomasville when General Lee surrendered and they pushed on to Tallahassee. Everybody knew they were coming and some things in the Capitol were hidden away but, just as it is in case of a fire, the most valuable possesions were left behind and the first Yankees who reached Tallahassee helped themselves. Well, it is what we expected.
For days the Union forces have been passing along the Thomasville and Tallahassee road; sometimes like well-drilled soldiers, sometimes straggling over the enclosures and entering the houses without the preliminary knock. It is very disagreeable.
Eddie is five years old now and he is a bright little fellow with the greatest admiration for “Toldiers,” as he calls our men. This morning he was on the porch when a Union officer walked in and took, unasked, a seat. He had quite a pleasant face and I suppose Eddie did not know what the blue uniform betokened. The officer held out his hand to him and said: “Come and talk to me awhile, I have a little son at home just your size.” Eddie went across and in next to no time he was sitting in his lap, and eagerly telling him of the events of the past few days.
“Toldier,” he said, “Don’t you hate the Yankees ?”
“No,” said the officer, “I am a Yankee, myself.”
Eddie looked incredulous, he slided down to the floor, his lip quivered, his eyes filled with tears, as he stood before his new acquaintance.
“I am sorry I sat in your lap,” he said. “I didn’t know you was a Yankee. I thought you was a Toldier.”
The officer flushed angrily; “Look good, my little man,” he said, “See if you can find my horns and the cloven feet you expected?”
But Eddie would take no notice of him. He took refuge in his grandfather’s arms and sobbed out, “I sat in his lap and just a month ago they killed my uncle Mac, my dear uncle Mack. Do you think, grandpa, that this Yankee killed him?”
The officer left the house without another word. I tried to comfort Eddie but found myself crying as hard as he did. Will our losses ever be forgotten or forgiven? Can our people, North and South ever be a united country with this bloody gulf yawning between us? The South did not want this war. We fought for our rights, we resisted oppression and now we are crushed and conquered. God help us!
There are wild tales told of the doings at Washington. I will not try to record them for, like as not, nothing we hear is true. Whether we believe or not, these wild rumors fill us with dismay. Our own especial soldiers have not yet returned and we have not heard one word from them since the surrender. Perhaps they will never come. Father is heartbroken and miserable; he cannot sleep and nobody in the house cares for food; the meals are removed from the table almost untasted.
