Who Stole the Pork?

BY HENRY SHICK, COMPANY D, 177^TH PA

        I THINK Mr. S. T. Jennings must be mistaken in his dates about “Who Stole the Pork?” for my regiment moved to Deep Creek, Virginia, on the 9^th of March 1863. The reason I have the time so well fixed in my mind is that my father, who was in the same regiment, said to me, “You can remember this as long as you live, because it is your birthday.” We left there a few days before the battle at Gettysburg, and raided that country all the way to South Mills, [Camden County] North Carolina, and there were not ten loads of pork in all that country. Jennings says they stole ten loads of pork from th4e First New York Mounted Rifles, which they had captured from the farmers along the Deep Creek Canal. I went with a squad twenty-two miles out one day to look for some pork, and all we got was one small pig, and we had to kill that.

[Western Veteran (Topeka, Kansas) 8 May 1889]

Surrender of Fort Macon

Edgecombe Native Takes Fort Without Fight

________

            It was April 14, 1861. The sun was low in the west when the 54 men from Beaufort and Carolina City [Morehead City], Carteret Co., NC marched from the steamer Cora onto the sandy beach at Fort Macon. The newly recruited company, led by Edgecombe Co. native Josiah Solomon Pender, was there to capture the federal fort that protected the port of Beaufort. The take-over was a gentlemanly, quiet affair. No shots were fired and the fort was turned over with a minimum of ado.

            What led to this quiet change of command?

Josiah Solomon Pender
Taken from "Find A Grave"
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/42229086/josiah-solomon-pender

            Prior to the start of the Civil War, with no threatening enemies, forts along the coast of the US had been all but deserted. Older soldiers, as a reward for years of faithful service, had been assigned caretaker duties. Most of the forts had fallen into disrepair. Fort Macon was no different.

            There was only one man on duty at Fort Macon in April 1861—William Alexander, 50 years old, a 30-year veteran who had served gallantly in the Mexican War. His wife, Ann L. Livesay Alexander, a Morehead City native, also lived at the fort.

Alexander knew trouble was on the way. Other forts along the southern coast had been captured by state forces. He was part of the Beaufort community, and he had heard the secessionist rumblings. In fact, on April 2, Alexander wrote Col. H. K. Craig in Washington, D.C. asking for a revolver for his protection. On April 12, the day the war began at Fort Sumter in Charleston, S.C., Alexander learned from Col. Craig that he was on his own. There were no revolvers available.

By the morning of April 14, Sgt. Alexander had already received word that Pender intended to capture the fort. He wrote Col. Craig again: “… A company of secessionists led by Josiah S. Pender of Beaufort are today going to seize this fort …am at a loss how to act, in premises, what to do, or where to go. I have served the US Army for the last thirty years, and am now no longer fit for any active service, have my family at the Post, and all of my property. The latter I expect to lose—having no where to move it—and cannot at this time convert anything into money.”

Cover of  Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper
May 17, 1872 From North Carolina County Photographic Collection #P0001, North Carolina Collection Photographic Archives, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill .

Josiah Pender was a fervent secessionist. It was clear to him that there would be a need to keep the port at Beaufort in southern hands. In anticipation of this, he formed the Beaufort Harbor Guards, a 17-man militia company. He was acting with no official authorization. NC had not yet seceded from the Union and, in fact, would not do so until May 20. On January 9, when local citizens seized Fort Johnston and Fort Caswell near Wilmington [New Hanover Co.], NC, Gov. Ellis, who was not ardent in support of secession, sent state militia to restore the forts to US control. Obviously, Pender could not assume Ellis would support the take-over of Fort Macon.

When news of the Fort Sumter, SC attack was telegraphed to Beaufort, Pender was ready to act. His company, along with other local volunteers, boarded the Cora for the short trip across Bogue Sound to Fort Macon. Sgt. Alexander had no choice but to surrender. He and his wife remained at the fort to pack their belongings and were removed to Beaufort on April 17. Alexander was ordered to remain there to await orders. Those orders never came, and he remained where he was until Union forces re-took Fort Macon in March 1862.

After Alexander’s surrender, the triumphant Pender telegraphed S.C. Gov. Francis Pickens of his actions. He also requested guns for the fort. Apparently, he did not notify N. C. Gov. Ellis.

State Takes Fort

It is not clear when Gov. Ellis learned of the take-over of Fort Macon. However, on April 15, when President Lincoln requested troops from N.C. and Ellis realized that the Union was ready to use force against the South, a decision had to be made. Would N.C. fight with its friends, neighbors and kinfolks, or against them? Gov. Ellis made the decision and ordered the seizure of all federal operations within the state. The Goldsboro Rifles, under the Command of Capt. Marshall Crafton, were ordered to take Fort Macon. In short order, Crafton’s company and the newly formed Goldsboro Volunteers [Wayne County] were on their way to Beaufort. The next day, they assumed control of the fort from Capt. Pender.

Fort Macon was falling apart. The moat surrounding the fort had collapsed. Only 4 cannons were mounted, and their carriages so fragile as to be unusable. The backbreaking work of reinforcing the fort began on April 17. By the next week, there were more workers than could be accommodated. Capt. Henry T. Guion had brought 61 free negro volunteers and 21 slaves. The Elm City Rifles [Wilson County], The Neuse Cavalry [Craven County], The Wilson Light Infantry, The Edgecombe Guards, The Guilford [Guilford Co.]Grays, The Orange Guards, and the Warren Guards had all arrived. Many of them were soon disbursed to other assignments.

Fort Macon today as taken from the shore.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Macon_State_Park

The work continued throughout the summer, and by the end of August, the fort had been completely restored. The refurbished fort was officially turned over to the Confederacy on August 20.

Pender’s volunteer company joined the state forces on May 16 as Company G, Tenth NC Artillery with Pender as their captain. After NC seceded, the unit became part of the Army of the Confederacy. Pender’s son, Walter, only 17 years old, was a lieutenant in the Beaufort Harbor Guards. He was accidentally shot the next year. Some say the accident happened while he was instructing troops in the use of the bayonet. Another story is that he was playing around when he was shot.

Pender was not entirely happy with the situation after the state took over Fort Macon. On June 18, he tendered his resignation unless he was given a better position. The letter, contained in the William & Emmet Robinson Collection at Johnston Co. [NC] Heritage Center, includes the following: “… I have been promised time & again … Men have been promoted … neither practice nor theory in military matters. … I have submitted to be ruled & insulted even by those that knew nothing in regard to their military duties & in all human probability never will. …” The position he wanted was that of Lieut. Col. of Artillery.

Pender did not resign, but there were still problems. His wife was seriously ill in Beaufort; life at the fort was dull. In November, when his request for leave was denied, he left without permission. He falsely claimed that Gen. D. H. Hill had given him leave. He was also accused of having taken items from the Union with a forged requisition.  A general court martial at Morehead City found him guilty, and on 29 Dec 1861 he was dismissed from the Confederate Army for “Conduct unbecoming an officer & a gentleman.”

Col. Lawrence O’Bryan Branch wrote of Josiah, “ … I know him to be brave, enterprising and intelligent, and devotedly anxious for the success of the Cause. …” However, it is likely that Pender was relieved to be free of the restraints of military life.

[Taken from The Connector, Newsletter of the Tar River Connections Genealogy Society, Vol. 8, No. 2, Spring 2004]

Walter Clark—Fighting Judge and Women’s Rights Advocate

            Walter McKenzie Clark was the oldest child of Gen. David and Anna Maria Thorne Clark. He was born on August 19, 1846 at Prospect Hill in Halifax Co., NC, but spent most of his young years at Ventosa, the Clark plantation on the Roanoke River. 

http://www.carolana.com/NC/Courts/wclark.html

           At the age of 8, Walter was sent to school at Vine Hill Academy near Clarksville [later Scotland Neck] also in Halifax County. In a letter to his mother he wrote, “I go to Sunday School and church, and also clean my teeth every morning, and everything else you requested me to do.” In 1857, he was sent to Ridgeway School in Warren Co. and in 1859 to Belmont Select School in Granville Co., where he excelled in every subject. In 1860, at the age of 14, he was enrolled in Tew’s Military Academy at Hillsboro, Orange Co.

            Soon after NC seceded from the Union on May 20, 1861, Gov. Ellis called for volunteers to assemble at Camp Ellis, near Raleigh, Wake Co. He asked Col. Tew of the Academy to assign a cadet to act as drill master for the first contingent of raw recruits. Walter Clark—only 14 years old—was given the assignment.

            The Camp Ellis troops were organized into the 22^nd Regiment under the command of Col. J. Johnston Pettigrew, and Clark, known as “Little Clark,” was elected 2^nd lieutenant and drill master, where he served until November when he became drill master for the 35^th NC Regiment at Camp Mangum, also in Wake Co.

            In the summer of 1862, “Little Clark” became Col. Matt W. Ransom’s adjutant. The regiment joined Gen. Lee’s army and Clark saw plenty of action. He was present at the Second Battle of Manassas and took part in the capture of Harper’s Ferry. After that, the troops marched double-quick to Sharpsburg, where on Sept. 17, the bloodiest one-day battle of the war was fought.

            Clark later wrote an account of that day in which he told how he was pulled out of the line of fire: “All the mounted officers in the division instantly dismounted, turning their horses loose to gallop to the rear. It being the first time I had been so suddenly thrown in contact with a line of battle, and not noticing, with the smoke and uproar, that the others had dismounted, I thought it my duty to stick to my horse; in another moment, when the smoke would have lifted, I should have been taken for a general officer and would have been swept out of my saddle by a hundred bullets. A kind-hearted veteran close by peremptorily pulled me off my horse. At that instant a Minnie ball, whistling over the just emptied saddle, struck the back of my left hand which was still clinging to the pommel, leaving a slight scar… .”

      Gen. Ransom had a slightly different recollection. He said that a big mountaineer private ran up to Clark and pulled him off his horse, exclaiming, “Git off’n this horse, you darned little fool! You’ll git killed.”

            Later, when the regiment was in winter quarters near Richmond, VA with Gen. Lee, Clark wrote his mother asking for a pair of boots. The soles of his shoes had given away and his feet were partially on the ground. “I have thought my feet would freeze in these low shoes, for they keep no more water out than if I had none. It is folly to think that persons in the army can purchase at any time, anywhere, what they need.”

            At another time he wrote his mother, “ …we had to lie in an open ditch, the rain pouring down, without blankets or a mouthful to eat (and the enemy picking off every man who raised up to stretch his benumbed limbs) for two nights and a day …”

            Walter Clark resigned his commission in 1863 and enrolled at UNC. He graduated a year later, first in his class. He was reading law, although, as he wrote his father, “… I would not be entitled to plead until I am twenty one.” As soon as he graduated in June 1864, he returned to his regiment and continued to serve until he was paroled on May 2, 1865.

After the War

            When Clark returned to Ventosa, there was nothing left. The fields were a wilderness of weed. Federal soldiers had stolen the livestock and burned the mansion to the ground. David Clark’s health was ruined and Walter took over management of Ventosa and Riverside, near New Bern in Craven Co. He became the head of the family at age 18 and managed to rehabilitate Ventosa and keep his family—mother, invalid father and 8 siblings—together.

            In December 1865, at the age of 19, he wrote to the Raleigh Daily Standard: “The picture of abandoned farms, stagnated business, a dejected people and open lawlessness is fearful to contemplate. Gentlemen may go to Raleigh and legislate, but what does their collective wisdom amount to if the plow stands still in the furrow and the anvil rests on its block? …”

            In January, 1867, Walter Clark was admitted to the practice of law in Halifax Co. and opened his office in Scotland Neck. At 21, he was licensed by the Supreme Court. He soon moved his office to Halifax where his practice thrived.

“Miss Sudie”

            “[I] go up to Company Shops [Burlington, Alamance Co.] today for the purpose of seeing Miss Sudie Graham.” This was the start of Clark’s ardent 3 year courtship of “Miss Sudie” Graham. She lived in Hillsboro, Orange Co., far from Halifax, and Clark often told of catching midnight freight trains on his return trips.

            On Jan. 27, 1875, Walter Clark and Susan Washington Graham were married. Clark was a director and general counsel for the Raleigh & Gaston and the Raleigh & Augusta Railroads, and it was more convenient for him to live in Raleigh. The young couple had an inexpensive but comfortable house, and it was there they raised their family of 8—5 boys and 3 girls.

Stock Certificate

LaBarre Galleries:

 http://www.glabarre.com/item/Raleigh_and_Gaston_Railroad_Company/6029/p2

            Clark seemed to have boundless energy and enthusiasm. He and Gov. Holt purchased the Raleigh News, a daily paper which Clark managed for a number of years. He wrote an annotated Clark’s Code of Civil Procedure that was so well done every practicing lawyer had to have a copy. He compiled and edited the State Records of North Carolina (16 vols., 1886-97). He wrote a historical summary of Methodism in NC and represented the Methodist church at a number of national and international conferences. In addition, he found time to help his children with their lessons and take the boys swimming in Crabtree Creek.

Fighting Judge

            Clark was appointed to the Superior Court in 1885 and was elected, in 1889, to the NC Supreme Court where he served until his death in 1924. He was inflexible against all violators of the law. Recognized as a progressive, Clark was an ardent advocate for women, children and minorities. He had conflicts with such powerhouses as the American Tobacco Co. and several railroad companies, including the Atlantic Coast Line. He urged better child labor laws, once denying the right of an employer to plead that a child working with dangerous machinery assumed the risk incident to the employment, and when injured was barred from recovery.

Women’s Rights

            Walter Clark took an avid interest in woman’s suffrage, serving as legal adviser to the North Carolina League of Women Voters. He made his first speech favoring woman suffrage in 1911.

            In 1913, Clark spoke to the Federation of Women’s clubs in New Bern. He said, in part: “…The legal status of women under the common law … was simply that of a slave. A married woman under the common law owned no property, except after the death of her husband. She could make no contracts, not even for necessaries and not even with the consent of her husband. She could not will or devise her property. Upon her marriage the husband and the wife became one—and that one was the husband. He was master, the wife was a nonentity. The moment she married, he became entitled to all her personal property. He was entitled to the rents and profits of her real estate, which he could sell for his lifetime, or it could be sold for his debts. If she died, the husband still possessed the right to the rents and profits of all her realty for the rest of his life, while at his death she received only a child’s part of his personalty [personal property] and a life right, called a dower, in only one-third of his realty. … She could not appoint a guardian for her children, even when she outlived her husband.

            “As to her personal rights, the married woman came under the absolute control of her husband, who could chastise her if he saw fit, provided the chastisement inflicted no permanent injury. The reason given for this by Judge Pearson as late as 1868 was that it was the husband’s duty to ‘make the wife behave herself,’ and if he beat her without good cause it was held that the courts would not punish him, because it was too small a matter to take notice of, unless she was permanently injured. As late as 1868 it was held by our Supreme Court that if a husband whipped his wife with a switch no larger than his thumb he could not be punished.

 "Can this plaintiff discharge that duty when so authorized by an act of the Legislature and commissioned by the Governor? Or is she barred because she is a woman? Under the Constitution of the United States no one is debarred from holding any office from President down because of sex. What provision of the state Constitution will be shattered, and what detriment will the public welfare receive, if by legislative and executive authority a woman shall authenticate a certificate made by herself by impressing the seal upon a piece of paper? If the defendant were a man, he would not be debarred from holding this appointment unless he were an idiot, a lunatic, or a convict."

From a case heard by the NC Supreme Court in 1915

http://docsouth.unc.edu/nc/notaries/notaries.html

            “The first improvement came in 1848 when a statute ‘provided that as to women married thereafter, their real estate could not be sold by the husband nor for his debts.’ In 1868, the new constitution contained a provision that was intended to emancipate married women by providing that ‘a married woman should own her property as fully as if she had remained single; that she might will it, and that she could sell her personalty, but it was still required that she must get the written assent of her husband to convey her realty. This last restriction still holds in this state … .’ Despite the new provision, “the courts placidly proceeded to hold that the earnings from her needle or cooking, or otherwise acquired by her labor should nevertheless become absolutely the property of her husband, and that she could not sue for it.” It was not until 1913 that women were granted the right to their own earnings.

            In 1916, Judge Clark spoke in Greenville, Pitt Co. on the subject of votes for women. He argued, although women could not vote, legally they could hold any state office, as the constitution did not specify that office-holders must be men.

            Walter Clark died on May 20, 1924.

           

[From The Connector, Newsletter of Tar River Connections Genealogy Society: Vol. 12, Number 3: Summer 2008.

Sources: Dictionary of N.C. Biography edited by William S. Powell; “Soldier, Planter, Judge” by Gene Dugan, Ramparts, Summer 1998; http://docsouth.unc.edu/nc/clarkw/bio.html]

1864

PLYMOUTH

  Sixteenth Connecticut Volunteers

          B. F. Blakeslee wrote the History of the Sixteenth Connecticut Volunteers” (1875) which told about the Connecticut unit’s service during the Civil War, including time spent in North Carolina. The following is one of the stories from that book:

           

In January 1964, several companies of the Sixteenth Connecticut Volunteers boarded the steamers S. R. Spalding and Vidette in Portsmouth, VA on their way to Plymouth, Washington County, NC.

            “The weather was very fine and we had merry times and a fine sail around Cape Hatteras, reaching Morehead city on the morning of the 23^rd and proceeded thence by rail to New Berne. We left New Berne at midnight on the “John Farron” for Plymouth, and arrived there at midnight on the 24^th.” The Connecticut volunteers conducted several raids in the area of Plymouth “which the men enjoyed very much, as they had exciting times in breaking up rebel cavalry camps and capturing and burning up large quantities of cotton and tobacco, besides taking a number of prisoners.” The Union troops conducted “such fine dress parades that it called forth the entire town every evening.”

Plymouth 1864
Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, 14 May 1864 Page 116

            Blakelee included in his chapter about Plymouth the following story that was first written by Serg’t Maj. Robert H. Kellogg:

            “There;s one thing, at least, to be said in favor of Plymouth. It was the home of a few ‘true blue,’ loyal Southerners—a very few, however. They were hard to find, and I fear they are yet. The loyal men before spoken of, and some who were not loyal, were blessed with numerous daughters, fair to behold, but apt to hav a few little weaknesses, such as ‘dipping snuff’ and smoking corn cob pipes. One of these men lvied in a small house half way between the camp of the 16^th and the western or left end of the town, and was blessed (or cursed, I doubt if he knew which at times,) with three daughters, and pretty ones they were. ‘The prettiest girls I’ve seen yet!’ was the emphatic declaration of each succeeding man who was lucky enough by dine of long watching or shrewd stratagem to get a peep at them. For be it know, the father was as watchful over these fair scions of his house, as any ogre, read of in fairy tales, could possibly have been over his captives. Perhaps he had read some sensation tale of ‘excesses of a brutal and licentious soldiery,’ and thereupon resolved to keep his household uncontaminated from the least approach of such an insidious foe. I can not think he had taken a good square look into the honestfaces of the 16^th men, nor heard Chaplain Dixon preach to his crowded audience of boys in blue, every Sunday. At all events he seemed determined that no officer or soldier should form the acquaintance of his girls. On the other hand, or boys were quite as determined that they would become acquainted with them. But how was it to be done? That was the question which was presented to the mind of many a one who had cast ‘sheep’s eyes’ at that humble dwelling in the hope of getting a glimpse at its fair inmates. Many and various were the plans which were made, but alas!

‘The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men,

Gang aft a –gley,

And Lea’e us naught but grief and pain,

For promised joy.’

            “None had been successful until at last one day two members of Co. ‘A’ walked coolly and boldly into the forbidden cottage. First et me give the names of the ones who did it, then I’ll tell how they did it. The persistent and successful schemers were Corporal Sam Belden, (remembered by every one of his surviving comrades toay and by many friends in this vicinity,) and Private John Quinn. And this was ‘the way the fort was taken.’ After much polishing of buttons and brushing of uniforms, they obtained possession of the Company Clothing book and another volume of similar size, which they fond in the Orderly Sergeant’s tent’ and on a pleasant afternoon quietly left the camp, unnoticed, and proceeded to the scene of interest. A modest knock at the door brought out ‘pater famlias’ or ‘old tar heels’ as the unsuccessful besiegers spitefully termed him. Corporal Sam coolly informed him, with that imperturbable gravity of countenance and manner for which he was celebrated, that they were deputed by General Wessells, who was in command of the Post, to take the census of the town. There was no getting around that, for an order emanating from such a source was not to be lightly disobeyed; so they were rather ungraciously admitted to the heretofore unvisited house—couldn’t call it a mansion by any stretch of the imagination. Once seated inside, Corporal Sam as spokesman, commenced a series of questions which the U. S. Census commissioners would have hard work to equal, private Q. jotting down the replies of the blushing and confused girls, and of the astonished father. Of course, by this cool and ingenious method they obtained the names of all, their ages, and other interesting information, and moreoever they did it all with such suavity, and conducted themselves with such gentlemanly deportment, that from that day they were invited, happy, envied, and regular visitors at the forbidden house.”

[Taken from History of the Sixteenth Connecticut Volunteers, (1875) by B. F. Blakeslee . The book was found at https://archive.org/details/01596863.58826.emory.edu ]

A Rocking Chair for Sarah

Elbert Alfred Moye, 5th child of Alfred and Orpah Tyson Moye, was born in 1844. He farmed in Pitt Co., NC until he joined the Confederate forces at the age of 17. On Sept. 3, 1861, he enlisted as a private in Company G, Gen. Bragg's Guards, 8th Reg. of the NC Infantry. … On an oath of allegiance he was described as being 6 feet with a ruddy complexion, light hair and grey eyes.

Elbert was promoted to corporal in 1862, and on Jan. 3, 1863, he was promoted to 1st sergeant, Clerk to General Court Martial at Wilmington, NC. He was promoted to 2nd Lt. on Nov. 23, 1863.

On May 31, 1864, at the Battle of Cold Harbor, Elbert Moye was taken prisoner by the Union forces. He was taken to Ft. Delaware, Del. on June 25, 1864, and remained there until June 16, 1864, when all prisoners were released.

While a POW, Elbert made a rocking chair. He carried it the long distance home and gave it to his niece, Sarah Elizabeth Lang, daughter of Ann Priscilla Moye Lang. Lizzie Lang treasured the chair, and after many years gave it to her eldest daughter, Annie Elberta Joyner, namesake of Elbert Moye. Elberta Joyner Foster, her only daughter died and Elberta Foster gave the chair to her eldest granddaughter, Laura Foster Renard.

After the war, Elbert returned home to NC and farming. He was a member of the State House of Representatives in 1877 and in the Senate in 1879. From 1885 to 1898, he was a Clerk of Superior Court.

Elbert Moye married Mary Edwards, daughter of Newit Edwards, farmer, of Green Co., NC. They had 3 children: Elbert Alfred Moye, Jr. who married Hortense Forbes; Robert M. K. Moye, who married Lillian Barnhill; and Mary A. Moye, who married John L. Carper.

Elbert Moye married 2nd, Delphia King and they had no children. He married 3rd Lucy Johnston and they had a son, Robert Sweeney Moye.


[Taken from The May, Lang, Joyner, Williams Families of N. C. (Pitt Co. Area), by Laura Foster Renard, 1974. The book is available at ECU library. The story was published in The Connector, newsletter of the Tar River Connections Genealogical Society, in the Fall 2007 issue.]

The Civil War Battle in Gumberry

that Never Took Place

"It was the Spring of 1865 and the closing weeks of the Civil War.

"Northampton County farmers, among them Kindred Howell, once again had put their fields in order for the new crops of cotton and corn. Howell's land stood, as it does today, astride the Seaboard and Roanoke Railroad, built to connect the Port of Norfolk with the main line road running south from Richmond into at Weldon.

"One bright morning, excitement rang high through the Seaboard area. A 'runner' from Jackson, the county seat brought word the Union Army was on its way.

"Soon, a “roaring noise came from the southeast audible from enemy troops, many of them mounted and some horses pulling artillery pieces, moved across the countryside and onto the Howell's land. They stopped, some on each side of the railroad tracks. Two pit emplacements for big guns were dug on either side of the railroad, and the rails themselves were ripped up for about half a mile, from Howell westward to the crossroads of Gumberry.

"Today [1976] a long stretch of this 'fort' is still there, probably the best preserved, in the original state, of any Civil War fortification in this region.

"It runs about half a mile on the south side of the railroad, now a part of the Seaboard Air Line. The great mounds still are 12 to 15 feet in height in some places. A pine forest has grown up around them, and few people in this area know of their existence.

"The 'fort' was never used. What could have developed into a major engagement was averted because Union strategists beat the Confederates to the draw, and had an overwhelming force to “cut” the railroad at Howell's farm before the Southerners got there.

"Among those who knew the fortification is still there is the late Mrs. L. W. Bryant (a veteran schoolteacher at Gaston, great-granddaughter of Kindred Howell) who lived on the old home place.

"Recently, [1976] she and a brother, W. J. Stephenson of Richmond stood on the site and told of events of 98 years ago, as related to them by their grandmother, Mrs. Christine Howell Jordan, who died in 1925.

“ 'My great-grandfather (Kindred Howell) put all the cured meat in a big box and buried it behind the barn when word came the Union Army was on its way,' Mrs. Bryant said.

“ 'They stopped in my grandmother's fields. At that time she was living on the place with her father and sister, and a slave named Aunt Rena, who took care of the girls. Aunt Rena was rented from a neighbor for 50 cents a week.

“ 'The Union forces, after throwing up the breastworks and placing the guns beside the railroad, waited for a train from Norfolk. They knew it was carrying Confederate soldiers, who were trying to get to Weldon or Richmond.

“ 'Great-grandfather Howell talked to two of the Union officers while they were waiting. They told him it would not be necessary for him to take his family and slave and leave, because they knew there would be no battle. Both officers said their troops so far outnumbered the Confederates on the train that they were sure there would be no fight.' (It was estimated there were about 8,000 Union Troops, compared to about 2,000 Rebels on the train).

"Howell invited the two officers in for coffee. The room in which they sat is still preserved, a part of the rebuilt homeplace which was moved several hundred yards from its original site.

"For an hour or so, there were a series of 'booms' heard as the Yankees tested their big guns guarding the railroad and got the range on the expected train.

“The train came slowly from Seaboard,” Mrs. Bryant was quoted. “It was flagged and came to a stop within sight of the fort. The crew could see the situation and the train began to back up. Not a shot was fired.

“One of the officers said. ‘Thank God, the war is over as far as we are concerned.’ The train backed out of sight toward the town of Seaboard.”

"There was one Confederate on the train, whose home was nearby, and he jumped off and made a dash for it. He was captured by Union soldiers, the only prisoner taken. Mrs. Bryant's grandfather, Henry Clay Jordan was a soldier on the train also.

"The gun pits as well as about half of the breastworks, have been leveled, but the other half still remains.

"Mrs. Bryant recalled that her grandmother said the fields had been broken up and laid off in that Spring of ‘65 when the Yankees came. The troops, horses, and artillery pieces trampled them so thoroughly that all the work had to be redone after their departure, and a late crop resulted, that year."

Footprints in Northampton: 1741-1776-1976 by Northampton Bicentennial Committee, 1976: p. 38-39.

Jesse A. Jackson's Dream

The Southern Star

Jesse A. Jackson was a man of vision. He went to Hertford County, North Carolina in the mid-1800s. For a while, he kept a store in the community of Pine Tree and later moved to Murfreesboro. Jackson was involved in several enterprises. He contracted to provide bricks for the construction of two women's colleges—Chowan, which opened in 1848, and Wesleyan, which opened in 1853. Both projects were profitable for Jackson. He also operated a sawmill at a location which later belonged to E. C. Worrell.

Jackson was an energetic and ambitious man and was not satisfied with storekeeping, brick making, or operating a sawmill. "He conceived the idea in 1856 of building a large steamship to make regular trips from Murfreesboro to New York, carrying both freight and passengers." He secured financing from Glines & Graham, a New York firm and from wealthy Hertford Co. men.

The ship, first named the Chowan, was expensive. Including her engines which were built at Wilmington, Delaware, the construction cost over thirty thousand dollars. It was a beautiful ship—a three masted bark with a wooden hull, 545 tons, 169' x 28'. However, Jackson's luck had run out. The firm of Glines & Graham went broke and the local investors were afraid to continue to fund the project.

"Poor Jesse Jackson got into a sea of troubles. Suits and demands thickened upon him." John K. Kirman, draughtsman and builder of the ship, took possession of her in 1857 for payment of a debt of $4,996.18 owed to him by Glines & Graham and the NC Steamship Co.

Jackson's "great floating palace" was later sold to John W. Southall and Capt. Thomas Badger. Southall was a prominent Hertford County man, an active and ardent Methodist, who lived in Murfreesboro all his life and was active in support of the Wesleyan Female College there. He also took great pride in his fine horses.

Thomas Badger had recently escaped from the U.S. mail steamship Central American which had foundered off Cape Hatteras as it carried mail, two million in gold and 575 passengers and crew on its run from California to New York. When help arrived, her captain, William Lewis Herndon, ordered that women and children be saved first and they all made it to safety. However, about 475 of the crew and passengers went down with the ship.

The Southern Star

Arrival of the Steamship Joseph Whitney and Tender, with Troops, Ordnance and Military Stores, at Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, under Commission from the Government of the United States, convoyed by the U.S. Steamer Crusader, on the 23rd of January, 1861. [The SS Joseph Whitney is in the center with USS Crusader at right. Published in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, 1861.

Southall and Badger christened the new ship the Southern Star and towed her to Wilmington, Delaware where she was outfitted for the sea. In October 1858, they sold her to the U. S. government and she was rechristened Crusader.

The Crusader was one of the fastest steamships in the water at that time. For two years, she chased down slave traders in the West Indies. As the Civil War approached, she was ordered to help reinforce Federal positions along the Gulf coast.

Later, the Crusader was moved to the eastern coastline where she served along the South Carolina Coast and later became part of the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, operating in the Chesapeake Bay.

After the war, the Crusader was decommissioned and sold. Renamed the Kalorama, the ship remained in commercial service until she was wrecked south of San Buenaventura in 1876.

"Jesse Jackson never recovered from the blow received in his great disappointment. Fresh disasters came upon him, and, after years of unavailing struggle, at the end of the late war, he left our country to seek his bread in other quarters. He had not taken fortune at its flood, and in disaster, alas! found too few to do him reverence."

Sources: Colonial and state political history of Hertford County, N. C. byBenjamin B. Winborne, 1906
http://www.sallysfamilyplace.com/Jackson.htm
History of North Carolina: from the earliest discoveries to the ..., Volume 2 By John Wheeler Moore 1880
Images of America: Hertford County by Frank Stephenson

Skirmish near Newport.

Two Reports

No. 1.—Lieut. Col. James Wilson, Ninth New Jersey Infantry.

No. 2.—Capt. John Soothe," C. S. Army.

No. 1.

Report of Lieut. Col. James Wilson, Ninth New Jersey Infantry.

Newport Barracks, N. C.,

April 7, 1862—2.30 p. m.

General,: I have to inform you that our outside pickets on the Cedar Point road were attacked this noon at about 1 o'clock by a force of about 40 cavalry mounted and about 20 on foot, who made a sudden dash upon our post.

In skirmishing we had 1 man shot, wounded, and are fearful 1 made prisoner. This information I have from courier sent in.

Our men stood the attack and returned the fire, killing one horse, but are unable to learn any other damage, as the enemy retreated at a rapid rate, but suppose they must have killed or wounded some.

I have sent forward another company to strengthen this post, who arrived there soon after the attack.

Awaiting your orders, I remain your most obedient servant,

JAMES WILSON,

 Lieutenant-Colonel, Comdg. Ninth Regiment New Jersey Vols.

Maj. Gen. J. G. Parke.

No. 2.

Jones County, N. C., April 8, 1862.

Sir : According to your instructions I make the following report of my progress since Saturday last:

I took my march toward Carteret County on Saturday, and reached Mr. Foscue's, on the Beaufort road, 20 miles below Trenton.

Sunday I was joined by Captain Hill and 50 of his men and proceeded toward Beaufort. At sunset I halted, and sent forward to ascertain the number and position of the enemy's advance reported to be ahead. At 1 o'clock in the night my scouts came in, not able to find anything, and I proceeded to Eli Saunders' and fed my horses and men.

Monday morning I was joined by Lieutenant Humphreys with about 30 men. By agreement with Captain Hill and Lieutenant Humphreys I divided the whole force into four platoons of about 30 men each, placing the men with the best arms in the first platoon. This platoon I placed under command of Lieutenant Eure and sent it forward as an advance down the road from Saunders' toward Newport. I followed with the other three platoons and their commanders a short distance behind the advance. After going within 5 miles of Newport the advance saw a squad of 5 of the enemy and charged them, capturing 3 and killing 2. About 200 yards in advance of the first squad there was another squad of 12, which being discovered. Lieutenant Euro rallied his platoon and charged them, killing 1 and capturing C. Most of the enemy fired their muskets without injuring a horse or man on our side.

In five minutes after the firing ceased two companies of the eueniy came in sight and fired upon us and fell into the marsh. _ By their fire the only damage done was the killing of my horse under me. I ordered the men to retire down the hill, as there was no chance to charge them from a miry causeway. With our 9 prisoners I retraced my steps to this place last night.

As the first platoon did the principal work, I deem it sheer justice to say that they behaved with great bravery.

I let Lieutenant Humphreys take charge of 3 prisoners, Captain Hill 3, and I send the remainder to you and through you to General Eansom.

I am very anxious that you should recall me forthwith, as my horses and men are completely exhausted and tired out.

I also send 7 muskets captured from the enemy and Captain Hill took two.

The number of the enemy at Newport and stationed at intervals from Newport to the place we encountered them is about 600 or 700 from the best information. At and about Morehead City one regiment.

All praise is due to Lieutenant Eure and Orderly Jordan, who led the charge of the advance guard. Your obedient servant,

JNO. BOOTHE,

Capt. Commanding.

Col. W. G. Bobinson.

P. S.—Since writing the above one of my pickets has come in from Haughton's, about 4 miles from Pollocksyille, toward Wilmington, saying the enemy had fired upon him and killed or taken the 2 pickets that were with him, and that there was 500 or 600 of the enemy.

Source: The War of the Rebellion: v. 1-53 [serial no. 1-111] Formal reports, both ...  by Calvin Duvall Cowles, Henry Martyn Lazelle, Leslie J. Perry, 1883 (A Google Book)

CONFEDERATE VETERANS.

THEY HAVE A PLEASANT TIME IN 1889.

The wearers of the gray were out in very full numbers today. There were not as many as people expected. This is due to the fact that the soldiers are not here. It is probable that not more than 700 men enlisted from this county, if so many. Whatever this number was, hundreds have passed over the "great divide." The Southerner thinks that only 400 or 500 of the heroes of '65 are with us now.

As the eastern horizon blushed at the approach of the god of day, George Williams run up the Stars and Stripes over the Edgecombe Guards Armory. Then he hung out of every window other banners. One was tattered and torn with age and service. It was a flag presented to the Mexican volunteers by the ladies of Tarboro forty years ago. Miss Sarah Howard made the presentation speech.

It is of blue; in the centre is an eagle in guilt; on a scroll above and below are "Presented by the ladies." "Go our hearts are with you." The reverse side is the same with this change in the motto: "Edgecombe Volunteers." "Go, our hearts are with you.”

Many arrived early. The promptness taught a quarter of a century ago is with the soldier yet. He will not be late at roll call. The first man the reporter beheld this morning when he made his rounds was Lieutenant Fleming, who was the first man in the county [Edgecombe] to volunteer for the war.

As a souvenir the Southerner presented each veteran with a strip of ribbon, on which was printed "1889," "Veterans Reunion," "August 15th," "Compliments of the Southerner."

In honor of the day the court adjourned after a brief session till half past three o'clock. At 10 o'clock the Edgecombe Guards who had met to do honor to the occasions with colors flying and drums beating marched for the fair grounds, then without order, but orderly, the veterans followed.

At the Fair grounds the meeting was called to order in the grand stand. Four fifths of the seats were filled. Chairman Williams called the meeting to order and introduced Col. Jno. L. Bridgers, to welcome them. He did it well. He praised the soldiers and paid a glowing tribute to the North Carolina soldiers, more of whom surrendered at Appomattox than any other State.

When he spoke of Henry L. Wyatt as being the first man killed, Lieut. Fleming corrected the speaker by informing him that the first man killed was from somewhere about Marlboro.

The Southerner when an opportunity presents itself will get the Lieutenant to go into detail about this historical discovery. The speaker felicitously lauded the soldiers of Edgecombe. He was frequently and loudly applauded.

V. H. Sharpe responded by introducing H. C. Bourne, who pleasantly reproved Mr. Bridgers for calling him a Veteran. After a little pleasantry, he then paid a glowing tribute to the Confederate soldiers. He again earned the right to be styled "the silver tongued" orator.

A letter of regret from Col. L. D. Stark and Col. T. M. Parker, of Norfolk, was read. Business engagements prevented their attendance. Col. Parker's will be published.

Gen. W. R. Cox was introduced and spoke for ten or fifteen minutes. Of course his theme was the soldier, but he was eloquent over it. It was with anecdote. It waxed a very good speech, and was much appreciated.

The crowd was much larger than anyone expected. It was estimated variously from 500 to 800. The dinner was excellent. Theophilus Pitt is the best caterer in the96 counties.

…

In the afternoon the Edgecombe Guards did some drilling and firing, and were much complimented by those who had seen real war. S. R. Alley was out and took a photograph of the vets drawn up in line on the race track.

The Tarboro brass band furnished music for the occasion.

[Source: Daily Southerner, Tarboro, NC, August 15, 1889. Also published in The Connector, newsletter of the Tar River Connections Genealogical Society in the Summer 2005 issue.]

My Grandpapa, John Adams Lang

by Connor Eagles

"John Adams Lang, seventh child of Robert and Mariah Rogers Lang, was born 3/29/1843 near Fountain in Pitt Co., N.C. On Dec. 26, 1872, he married Zilphia Elizabeth 'Dippie' Baker, who was born Dec. 24, 1852, the oldest child of John Thomas and Nancy Horton Baker. John Adams Lang died Sept. 17, 1930 and was buried beside his wife in Queen Ann Cemetery, Fountain, N.C. Dippie Lang died Dec. 13, 1922."

John Adams Lang was the grandfather of Connor Eagles who wrote the following stories about John.

"Grandpapa John Adams Lang enlisted in 'The Marlboro Guards' on April 20, 1861 at Marlboro, Pitt County, N.C. He was just 18 and weighed only 111 pounds. The 'Marlboro Guards' soon made up Co. E of the 27th Regiment of Cooke's Brigade of A.P. Hill's Corps.

"Grandpapa said as a boy the nearest he ever got to any 'store bought' candy was to stand and look at a glass chewing gum jar filled with red streaked candy on the top shelf in a store, far out of a boy's reach. He resolved that if he ever had the money he would buy all the candy he could eat at one time!

"After enlisting he soon found his way down to Wilmington where he was paid $11.00 in Confederate paper money for one month's services in the Army. This was his first chance to satisfy the craving for candy. He went to a candy kitchen and spent the $11.00 for extra large sticks of lemon candy. He said he had an armful. Back to camp he went, and he and his comrades had all the 'store bought' candy they could eat.

"Grandpapa soon found himself going down in South Carolina below Charleston. They were 'foraging' for supplies—that is, gathering up all available feed, food, etc., that could be spared. They soon came to Pocatalico. I thought this quite a name and wanted to know about it. It seems the Indians had turtle races; and in order to hurry the turtles, with a sharp stick they said, 'Poke his tail he go,' from which came Pocataligo. Then farther down was Coosahatchie. …

"Grandpapa spent one winter on the Blue Ridge and along the Shenandoah Valley. He told about the warm camp fires from the hickory and oak wood, the wonderful pastures and fat cattle. He never tired of talking of the loveliness and beauty of the Shenandoah Valley. …

"Then there was the time the soldiers, for a change, were enjoying the 'luxury' of a ride on a freight train in the mountains. They wee loaded in box cars. Fortunately the train was slow. All of a sudden there was a weakness in the track, and car after car tumbled off the track Andover on the mountainside. Luckily all escaped with a good scare and a few bruises. It was quite a thrilling ride to the more daring.

"Captain Graham of Co. G., 27th Regiment, said he had often wondered about the reported bloody tracks made by some of Washington's barefooted troops at Valley Forge during that awful winter.

"But in a forced march on frozen ground, in snow and sleet, he saw troops in the 27th Regiment with worn out shoes and virtually bare feet leave blood prints behind. At this particular time General Cooke rode ahead to the camp and had camp fires built so the cold and suffering troops could warm. It was a most cheerful and welcome sight to the foot-weary soldiers. I could understand something of why Grandpapa and his comrades loved General Cooke so.

"Grandpapa was wounded twice, but never captured. One wound was minor, just a 'scratch' as he put it. I believe the other, and more serious wound, took place at the 'Battle of the Wilderness." A Yankee bullet passed almost through his hip. The doctor said it barely missed the ball and socket joint, that if it had struck the joint it would have meant death. But as it was, the bullet was stayed just before passing through the skin and out. Grandpapa said he could see it just under the pushed up skin. The doctor only had to split the skin with his scalpel, and the bullet fell to the floor. …

"Company E had suffered heavily during the four years of war. There were only 17 men including officers left to be paroled. Among them was Uncle Bob Lang, who was a corporal. The 27th Regiment had only 117 men and officers left, a pitiful skeleton of four years ago. The men wee tired, hungry, ragged, but their spirits were not broken. …

"Grandpapa was not present at the surrender, and so was not among the parolees. He was not too far away guarding meager supplies. When he heard of the surrender, he said 'I threw my musket down and started the long walk home.' He had to sleep in the open, but for four years he had become hardened to that. He had to beg food when so often there was no food. For instance, he was in Nash County going to Wilson. It was 10:00, and he had had no breakfast. He saw a girl beside the road at a spring house, washing clothes.

"'Is there any chance to get something to eat?' he asked.

"She replied, 'We have nothing but some cool buttermilk. You may have all of that you want and be welcome.'

"Grandpapa always said he could not drink milk, but he was so hungry that he said he'd try a glass. She poured it, and he closed his eyes and drank it down. She offered more, but he said, 'I think I can make it to Wilson on that,' and he did.

"At last he arrived home. The slaves were free, but most were loyal and stayed on to help restore the ravages of war. Grandpapa found his sister Jane, whose husband lost his life in the war, with four little boys. He said, 'They could hardly make it,' so he lived with them and helped them until they were large enough to get along."

[From The May, Lang, Joyner, Williams Families of N. C., by Laura Foster Renard, 1974. The story was also published in The Connector, newsletter of the Tar River Connections Genealogical Society in the Winter 20085 issue.]

When Trains Took 8 Hours

From Goldsboro To Weldon

That today's railroads form an effective and constantly improving communications arm in the scheme of national defense is emphasized by comparing a troop train time table issued 87 years ago during the War Between The States with today's Atlantic Coast Line schedules.

The Wilmington and Weldon Railroad, a Coast Line predecessor, issued the time table to govern the movement to Confederate Army troop trains between Goldsboro [Wayne County, NC] and Weldon, [Halifax County, NC],a distance of 78 miles. According to the schedule, the trip took eight hours in those days compared with three hours and 39 minutes now.

That portion from Goldsboro to Rocky Mount [Edgecombe/Nash Counties, NC] took four hours and 15 minutes in 1862. Today [1949] it is a one hour and 40 minutes run.

W.D. Rice, retired lumber mill foreman, Emerson [Railroad] shops, Rocky Mount, found the old time table recently in his father's trunk.

Also holding special interest is the wording carried at the bottom of the time table: "Trains returning will keep out of the way of all trains running on this table. They will leave Weldon at 6:15, 9:15, 12:15 and 3:15, day or night, passing the up or schedule trains at the principle turnouts, going through in about eight hours. Trains that have fallen one hour behind time will lay back for the next train and run its schedule. Not more than three trains to be run by one schedule and they will keep at least one mile apart.

"After one hour and ten minutes have elapsed from the time any train should have arrived, any empty or returning train may proceed cautiously, observing all the rules of safety prescribed on the general time table.

"When this time table goes into effect, all other time tables will be suspended until further notice. It will be announced by telegraph and an extra engine running with flags on both sides. [T]hen all section masters as well as trains will keep out of the way. Wood and water will be got ready immediately and kept ahead by some 25 to 50 cords, with extra hands at the pump. Section masters will at once have old sills cut up on their sections and all pumps kept in order. On this may depend the victory or defeat of our troops. All must do their duty efficiently and safely.

"S.L. Fremont.

Eng. And Sup't.

"Goldsboro, April 3, 1862."

The Richmond and Petersburg, the Petersburg and the Wilmington and Weldon, with approximately 245 miles of main line, formed the principal and most important means of communication with the country that supplied Lee's armies, particularly during the campaigns in Southeast Virginia and were, in effect, the "Bread Line" of the Confederacy. Their importance was further magnified by the fact that Wilmington [New Hanover County, NC] was the principal, and for a long time, the only open port that could be used by blockade runners bringing essential supplies for the forces of the Confederacy. Fort Fisher, commanding the mouth of the Cape Fear River below Wilmington, was of utmost importance to the Confederate plan of strategy and the railroads connecting Wilmington and Richmond furnished a line of communication that enabled the quick transport of troops and supplies.

Today, the Atlantic Coast Line, operating over the only double track route between the East and Florida points with its network of rails serving the six Southeastern states, is still a "Bread line"; but, in addition, in time of national emergency it represents an even stronger link, 5,568 miles long, in the communications system of the entire Eastern seaboard.

Source: Rocky Mount Evening Telegram, Rocky Mount, NC, 3/19/1949

Aunt Abby House

Aunt Abby House was a familiar figure around Raleigh, Wake County, North Carolina during and after the Civil War. A search of the internet for Abby House will return a number of hits. This version of her story was written by Rev. R. H. Whitaker, DD in his book, Whitaker's Reminiscences, Incidents and Anecdotes. Recollections of Other Days and Years: Or What I Saw and Heard and Thought of People Whom I Knew, and What They Did and Said, which was published in 1905. [This book can be found at Google Books and includes other interesting stories.] Rev. Whitaker actually knew Aunt Abby in her later years and much of the story is from what she told him.

A Once Turbulent Woman Whose Life Closed in Peace.

Aunt Abby House is remembered by many, and what she did and said, especially in the last years of her life, are …closely connected with the history of the war and the days of reconstruction, … I rode by the little cottage a few days ago in which she spent the last days of her life. It stands beside a ditch near the old Fair Ground, and was built at the expense of a few Confederate soldiers who appreciated her kindness to them during the war, when she, with the bravery of a Moll Pitcher and the tenderness of a Florence Nightingale, served in the double capacity of soldier and nurse, doing deeds worthy of places in story and song. …

Aunt Abby House was a native of Franklin County, born the latter part of the eighteenth century, according to her statement, being, as she once told me, "a right smart gal, enduring of the time of the war of 1812; big enough to have a sweetheart" That sweetheart, she said, went to the war, and the news came to her that he was sick at Norfolk, Va., and, she said, she walked every step of the way from Franklin County to Norfolk to see him, arriving there the day after he was buried.

"O, yes," said she, "I was a right smart gal enduring of that war; but, I can't tell you exactly how old I am now." The conversation in which she gave me this information occurred in 1877.

I have heard that in her early days, and, indeed, through most of her life, she was a turbulent woman; fond of contentions and law-suits, and that she was able to stand her ground in the court-house, on the court-house grounds, or anywhere else, and that no man could beat her swearing, when things did not go to suit her. Indeed, she had not stopped the swearing habit when I first knew her, when she was quite old.

I knew but little of her before the war; but, during the war she began a career that brought her before the public; and, until she died in 1881, there were few women in North Carolina better known.

The first time I remember seeing her after the war, was at Franklinton, at a district conference. Some one was preaching, and in the midst of his discourse he bore down pretty hard on certain sins, especially that worst of all sins, taking the name of God in vain, showing how worse than foolish was the habit some people had of cursing at everything; even some women, so far forgetting their sex sometimes as to use bad language.

About that time Aunt Abby, with a cane in each hand, bounced up and went toward the door, about half bent, making as much noise with her feet and two canes as a horse could have done. She halted just outside the door until the services closed, and as the congregation passed her, she was giving the preacher fits, and fully demonstrating the fact that cursing was no new thing to her. That was in 1867 or '68. From that time I saw her frequently and began to be on speaking terms with her, as I frequently saw her on the train. She never bought a ticket, and the conductor rarely ever got any fare from her. If she had a quarter, she'd give the conductor that, and if he hesitated as if that were not enough, she would threaten to hit him with her stick, and he would move on.

On one occasion I heard her ask General [Matt] Ransom for half a dollar, at the depot, just before the train left. The General, in a sort of teasing way, said: "Aunt Abby, I don't think I have half a dollar."

She stepped back and looking him full in the face she said: "Matt Ransom, you know that's a lie; and I'm going to tell your wife about it the first time I see her."

The General ran his fingers into his vest pocket and pulled out a dollar and gave it to her, saying, "That's the nearest I can come to it, Aunt Abby. Will that do for you?"

She held it in her hand a second, dropping her head as if in deep thought, and said, "No, that won't do. I'll get it changed."

"No," said the General, "you may need the other half sometime. Keep it."

She replied, "Matt Ransom, I always did say it, you are a gentleman, every inch of you," and the last I saw of her she was crawling into the car.

Aunt Abby's war record will soon be forgotten, as the brave men who wore the gray are falling out of ranks every day, and there will be, very soon, none left to tell how faithfully she ministered, in her rough way, to the sick and wounded men on the Virginia hills. I heard it said of her that she was present at several battles, and that she was as cool and self-possessed as any veteran, and that, on one occasion, while the fight was going on, she was seen, in a very exposed place, holding a horse. Some one said: "Old woman, you'd better get out of here before one of those shells tears you all to pieces."

"I ain't gwiue a step. I told [the] Colonel I'd hold his horse till he came back out of the fight, and I'll do it, shells or no shells."

While that may not have been literally true, it would not be saying too much of her, that she would have done just such a daring thing if occasion had offered.

Everybody heard during the war how anxious Aunt Abby was about her nephew who was in the army, and how she importuned Governor [Zeb] Vance to help her get that nephew out. She was a constant visitor at the Governor's office, and he treated her so nicely, that she became a life-long admirer of him. Governor Vance, at her earnest solicitation, did secure a furlough for her nephew, upon the condition that she would be sure to send him back to the army when the furlough expired. But she did not do it.

One snowy day she walked into the Governor's office, stamped the snow off her shoes, and sat down by the fire, seeming to be in a deep study. All at once she turned to Governor Vance and said: "Zeb, that boy can't go back to the army, he's got the consumption right now, and he'll die in less than a week if he goes back."

"Ain't that boy gone back yet?" asked the Governor, in astonishment.

"No, he ain't, and he can't go, for I tell you he's got the consumption."

The Governor put on a grave face and said: "That will never do. I gave General Lee my pledge of honor that if he would give Marcellus a furlough he should certainly go back when the time was out, and you promised me that you would send him back; and here it is a month over time and he not gone. That will never do, Aunt Abby. General Lee will never have any more confidence in my word. Marcellus must go right back."

"Well, Zeb, won't you write a letter to old Bob [Robert E. Lee] and tell him how it is?"

"Go bring Marcellus here and let me see him, and if I think his case is as bad as you say it is, 1 will write a letter."

In a few days Aunt Abby brought Marcellus in, and just as he expected, there were no signs of consumption, but a very well-looking man stood before him. The Governor wrote a letter to General Lee which sounded all right to Aunt Abby, but, when read between the lines, meant that the young man's complaint was largely imaginary, and was superinduced, doubtless, by his abhorrence of hardtack and gunpowder; in other words, that Marcellus was fit for duty.

As the Governor handed her the letter, he said: "Now, Aunt Abby, take this to General Lee and let me know what he says when he reads it. The General don't like me much, and he may try to make fun of my letter." She said she'd do it; and out she went, Marcellus following; but in a few days she came again, saying as she entered the Governor's office: "Zeb, they took that boy and put him right back in the army, and he's gwine to die in less than a month."

"Did you show General Lee my letter?"

"Yes, and when he read it he sorter smiled, and I raised my stick, jess so, and said: 'I dare you to laff at Zeb Vance's letter, I'll crack your head in a minit, if you do. Zeb told me you upstarts up here didn't like him.' "

"And then what did he do?"

"Why, he pretended like he thought a sight of you, but under the circumstances he reckoned he'd have to take the boy back into the army; and so he tuck him right in."

Aunt Abby was with Lee's army when it surrendered, and gave me a very thrilling account of it. She said they told her that she must wave her handkerchief to let the Yankees know that she was willing to surrender, too.

"Did you wave it?" I asked her.

"Not much. I shook it so, a time or two, and then I stuck my hand behind me. Then I shook it again, and put it behind me. I never was so mad in all my life as I was when one of them Yankees came along and sed to me, 'Old woman, you needn't mind about shaking that rag any more, we don't care whether you surrender or not.' I said, 'Drat your mean soul, if I had a gun I'd shoot you off that horse and leave you here for the buzzards to pick.' "

"And then what did he say, Aunt Abby?"

"He didn't say another word, but rode off looking as cheap as if he'd stole a sheep."

When Aunt Abby arrived at Raleigh from Greensboro, after the surrender, the city, of course, was in the hands of the Yankees, and, as she was getting, off the car at the depot a Yankee soldier, seeing an old woman hobbling out, went to help her down. She raised her stick as he approached her and said, with an oath that shocked him, "Don't you come any nigher, if you don't want your head cracked. No d—d Yankee shall touch me."

Not long after her return she went to headquarters to see the Yankee officials about some horses that had been taken from her. The Governor's office was being used as Yankee headquarters, and to that Aunt Abby went. When she entered the door, the room being full of Yankee officers, she stopped, leaned on her cane, and with a contemptuous look gazed all around. Of course every eye was upon her, and they waited to see what she wanted.

At length she spoke: "Yes, here's where gentlemen used to sit, but now it's a den of thieves." Then, in a very commanding tone of voice, she said, "I want my crap critters."

"Your what?" asked a Yankee.

"My crap critters—my horses, you fool; my horses you infernal thieves stole from me."

"Ah, that's it; you want your horses. How many did you lose?"

"Two as good as ever pulled a plow," she replied.

"Well, madam, just go down to the lot and pick out two of the very best horses there."

"I won't do it. I'll go and get two of the poorest sore-backs I can find. I won't take a fine horse. No Yankee shall ever have it to say I got back more than he stole from me."

It was about 1875 that Aunt Abby made a profession of religion and joined the Methodist church. I saw her not long after, and in our conversation, I told her that in her new life she would have to avoid the saying of bad words. … She finally promised that she would try not to curse at all. I then told her she must forgive everybody and try to live in peace with all men. She said she would forgive everybody but Bill Holden.

"Why not forgive him?" I asked.

"Because," she said, "he treated Zeb Vance so mean."

"But," said I, "you and Zeb, too, must forgive him."

"I hate him too bad," she said, "to forgive him." And, then, she added, "Don't the Bible say that God is angry with the wicked every day?"
"Yes," said I, "but you are not God, and you don't know that Mr. Holden is wicked."

She said she'd try to do the best she could. I do not know how it came about, but she did forgive Mr. Holden, and in her older age, when she was dependent largely upon charity for the necessities of life she had no better friend than he, and there were none she thought more of than she did of him.

Aunt Abby occupied a conspicuous place in Tucker Hall, the day Governor Vance took the oath of office, standing very close to the Governor and watching his every movement with a concern that could only have been equaled by a mother for an only son; and when the Governor, repeating the oath after the Chief Justice, came to the end of it and said, "I will, so help me, God," Aunt Abby, looking upon him with more than a mother's interest, said, "That you will, honey, that you will."

During the "Centennial of Methodism" here in Raleigh in 1876, three of the bishops of that church attended, and, daily, all three of them sat on the stage, in Metropolitan Hall, where they were seen and heard by the thousands of people who came to participate in the proceedings at that most interesting occasion; and, on the same stage, over to one side, there sat an old woman whose eyes and ears caught everything; who sometimes smiled and sometimes cried; whose bunchy figure, old-time clothes and fly-bonnet attracted the attention of everyone who entered the hall.
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It was said that Aunt Abby was on very intimate terms with President [Jefferson] Davis, and always called him "Jeff," when in conversation with him; and it made no difference to her whether callers were allowed or not, to see the President, she'd manage somehow to see him. She heard the ex-president was at the Yarborough House on one occasion and went to see him. The meeting between them was amusing, for the reason that she gave him a pair of her home-knit socks, and was anxious to know of him when he expected to have another war.

I do not vouch for the truth of it, but I heard that she went to Washington City during Grant's administration to see the gold chair she heard that the President sat in. That was before she professed religion, quit saying bad words, and doing ugly things. She got into the White House, saw President Grant, and then turning and looking about she asked, "Where's that golden cheer?"

The President said he didn't know.

She said, "There's one here somewhere, for Joe Turner told me so, and I know he wouldn't tell me a lie; and I've come all the way from North Carolina to see it, and I don't want to hear any more of your lies about it. Bring that golden cheer right out, and let me see it and sit down in it."

After a long parley with the President, she was forced toleave without seeing the "cheer," but she always thought that Grant hid it from her. She knew there was a golden chair there somewhere, for Joe Turner told her so, and Joe Turner would not tell her a lie.

In the last days of Aunt Abby she was a quiet, gentle-minded old lady and seemed never happier than when in a prayer-meeting. She opened the doors of her little cottage for prayer-meeting services, and seemed to enjoy, as much as anyone could, the hymns, prayers and exhortations. She was sick for quite a while before she died, but 1 don't think she suffered for the lack of food, medicine or attention. I went to see her a few days before her death, and as I was taking my leave of her I remarked that I was going away from the city for a few days.

"Then," said she, "I'll tell you good-bye for good, for I won't be here when you come back, but will be with Minnie," alluding to my wife, who had died a little while before. And holding my hand for a moment she asked: "Do you want to send her any word?"
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