Reminiscences of the Sixties, Marlboro County, South Carolina Genealogy Trails

Reminiscences of the Sixties
By Charles Crosland, 1910
Bennetsville, S.C.

Richmond's Narrow Escape from Capture.

Here ended the narrowest escape Richmond ever had of capture. Our cavalry followed in pursuit, driving the enemy pell mell into the Chickahomony swamp, when it was thought imprudent to go any further from our supports and we returned. This was the last grand attempt to capture Richmond from the north side, and aside from continual picket duty and frequent skirmishes we had only one more hard fight. I cannot now recall the occasion of this engagement, but it was in the fall of 1864.

Winter Quarters on the Frazier Farm.

We had been quartered for the winter about four miles from Richmond on a Mr. Fraziers farm, the general and staff occupying the lower floor and we couriers the upper story and the cellar.

We were called out very suddenly by a demonstration of the enemy on our works on the York River Road and Charles City Road as well as the Nine Mile Road. We had a chain of breast works thrown up connecting these and other roads, and the enemy were feeling us here. I was ordered by Lieutenant Boyd to go to General Gary and know where he wanted the ordnance train placed. He, as usual, was at the front, and to And him I got into a hot place. The enemy had brought up a large number of pieces of artillery and concentrated their fire upon a certain battery at an angle on our line so as to prevent our infantry from massing at that point to repel their charge upon it when they were ready. We had quite a number there already and when an order was to be carried in or brought out it had to be done at a full run to lessen the risk as to time under fire. At this time the fire was a perfect storm of shot and shell, and it looked as if nothing could escape under it, but my orders were to find General Gary, and all said he was at the battery, and I had to go. I started at a full run to get in the fort, but before I got full under fire met the general and staff coming out at full speed, and the general ordered me to go up our line to the left and put the train on the Nine Mile Road. I started and ran the gauntlet of the infantry fire for a mile. They tried to pick me off, knowing I was carrying orders, but I laid myself on the other side of my horse's neck and body and ran under spur, thus escaping much risk. Just as my course left the line I saw our adjutant, Gen. B. W. Ball, riding a large grey horse just ahead of me, shot down, but found the general was unhurt, but his horse was shot in the stomach.

When I got my train properly placed I leisurely returned and on my way back was ordered to take a back road to avoid capture should our line not be held, and when within a mile or so of the fort the enemy made a grand charge, and here, all alone, I had to stop to listen to the grand and awful concert, thanking God that I was spared being there and yet full of awe and tender sympathy for the many poor fellows I knew must be going down. It was the grandest and most sublime experience I ever heard, for I could see nothing. The artillery on both sides were in full boom and the fire was so rapid one report could not be distinguished from another except where some piece of large bore belched forth above the din. The war was like a hundred thunder storms combined. Added to this the rifle and musket fire was one continuous rattle or roar, thousands of them on each side, like in conception an immense canebrake afire, only the roar was deafening as well as sickening, and, strange to say, above all this din could be heard the regular huzzahs of the Yankees and the fearful rebel yell in one continuous peel, louder or fainter as success crowned their efforts. The effect on me there by myself in a safe place I can never describe. I now remember I stood listening, thrilled by the magnificence of the sound, at one time elated by its grandeur, and then, as I could hear the exultant yells, I involuntarily pulled off my cap in honor and sympathy for the poor boys I knew must be going to death, and felt I was standing on holy ground and in the presence of the trod of battles, and there I alone lifted my voice in prayer to God for mercy to the dying and for our cause. I seemed riveted to the spot, a perfect tumult of feelings rushing over me, as there all by myself I could hear and see, as it were, calmly and weigh matters, as heretofore I had always been in it, and the excitement swept me on, and no time for reflection, I cried aloud, shed tears, and laughed hysterically at the grandness of battle as the. different emotions took hold upon me. Those few moments were indelibly impressed on my memory, and I will carry them to my grave, and grand as it was, God grant I may never hear it again.

Pays $2,300 for a Horse.

Duty soon put me in motion again and soon the tumult grew fainter and fainter like a storm spending itself, then a sudden and ominous silence. I pushed on and soon learned the tremendous assault upon our lines had been repulsed with terrific loss to the enemy. This closed all large demonstrations upon our front, and soon all active operations were confined to the south side near Petersburg. We went into winter quarters in the same house above mentioned, and the balance of the winter had a comparatively easy time, outside of the bitter weather and long, cold rides all day and night carrying orders to distant points in all sorts of weather. I remember often coming in late at night during snow and sleet nearly frozen, overcoat frozen so stiff I could hardly get out of it, and when out I would stand it up like a barrel on the end of the long skirt. Here we all took the itch, and constant riding and irritating it made us awfully sore. Often I have come in and on undressing the skin would peel off my legs from seat to ankles in shields and scabs an eighth of an inch thick.

We were treated by the surgeon a long time, but with little effect, and I never got over it for two years after the war, if I ever have.

Here I broke my horse down, rode and starved him to death, and sent him home by my negro boy who cooked and washed for me. I bought me another, as every man had to furnish his own horse. I gave $2,300 for a very pretty horse, which I kept several years after the war was over. I bought him from Francis Godbold. Of Marion, S. C, he getting a furlough to go home to get another one. Here we had vacation from fighting and active dangers and we had many pleasant days and nights together. One of our principal pastimes was to take turn about and run away at night afoot and go to Richmond to the theatre and get back before day before we were missed. We found a tunnel on the York River Railroad entering the city that, strange to say, was unguarded, for every approach to the city was guarded and no one could go in or out without a permit from proper authorities. So our find was a bonanza and hugely we enjoyed it. The plays were fine. I remember seeing Edwin Booth act several times, and saw him the first time he appeared on the stage after his attempt to go over into the Yankee lines to go north, when he was captured and sent back. The theatre was filled that night, as usual, with soldiers, and when Booth came upon the stage they hissed him, yelled, cat-called him, and for an hour made such an uproar that nothing could be done or heard. He begged, explained, laughed, but all to no purpose. The police then tried to put out the discordant element. Then the soldiers put them out and had quite a riot.

Finally, after demonstrating their victory and thus showing their disapproval of Booth's course, they allowed him to proceed. He acted that night "Ill Trobadour" and was at his best. I often visited Dr. Baer and Mrs. Baer at Richmond, and they were very kind to me. She was a second mother and I will always cherish her memory. I bought a new black, light felt hat there once and gave $300 for it in Confederate money. Such articles were very scarce.

Often I would have to ride 15 to 20 miles with orders up the line of works and run the gauntlet of all sorts of remarks and ridicule that idle minds could suggest up and down for miles.

The soldiers would turn out of their tents or be lolling on the ground in streets and cheer and laugh at these remarks, and it was as much as human nature could endure, though I learned not to get mad and to laugh with them. If one got mad it only made them worse and it would be torture, for he would be handed down the line for miles from mouth to mouth. These soldiers confined here, with no books to read and nothing to do but sleep and eat. became like children and caught on to the least thing to amuse them. It was wonderful to see these lines of breastworks. They ran like a long serpent up and down hill, zigzag and straight as defenses demanded, with a fort built up high every 200 or 300 yards for cannon, and ran this way all around Richmond for miles—perhaps a hundred miles. The breastworks proper between the forts, behind which the infantry camped and fought, were from 4 to 6 feet thick, logs pinned up and filled between with earth, about 6 to 8 feet high. They had a long line of steps like or platform upon which the soldier would step up, fire his rifle and then step down to load while another took his place to fire.

The woods were cut down for a thousand yards in front, so an approaching foe found certain death to approach. Just to rear of these lines was a wide street or road for wagons, cavalry or artillery to pass up and down, and then just back of this was miles and miles of a long line of tents, and log huts of every size and description ingenuity could devise for the shelter of the soldiers. It was a perfect curiosity to note the devices and kinds of architecture human ingenuity wrought out for their comfort with the crude means at their hands. Rations at this time were scarce and poor. We generally ate up three days' rations in one, or rather could do it, and often did. Mule meat was common, and on one occasion when my turn came to draw mine, the commissary reached down his hand into the brine in the barrel and handed me a mules leg with the shoe on it.

Men Become Homesick and Desperate.

Toward the close and about this time our men became gloomy, dispirited; knew we were fighting a forlorn hope, starving almost, getting letters from home that their wives and children were suffering, homesick and desperate were our men. It was proverbial when cheering up and down the line was heard that it was either General Lee or a rabbit. They idolized our immortal Lee and worshipped and trusted him as implicitly as a child would its father. Whenever he appeared on the line every man would turn out on the street bareheaded and wait for him, and such deafening cheering you never heard. A luckless rabbit jumped up would cause the same cheering and a magnetic merriment. You would hear at first a faint and distant murmur like, then a little louder, and louder, then you could just tell it was human voices, then louder and louder it rang, coming like the rush of a coming storm or tornado so fearful was it. On it swelled, gaining in volume and distinctness as it came till it burst upon you in all its fury and swept past. Men like, they were crazed, each one catching the enthusiasm and feeling his duty to aid.

Then it swept on and on, growing fainter and fainter as it went till at last it died out as it first came. Men stood and discussed the subject-matter, laughed if it were a rabbit; if it were Lee they did him every homage they could, bowing, throwing their old jackets and caps under his horse's feet, escorting him, stirrup in hand, calling him "Marse Bob", "Uncle Bob", and every conceivable name of endearment. When he had gone out of sight they stood and sat and talked of him, how they loved him and his noble traits. If it was good war news it was discussed, for whatever it was it was passed from mouth to mouth like human telegraphy for miles from one end of the line to the other. It was perfectly wonderful to see it and take it all in. I write these details, as much of it never appears in history and will only be handed down by tradition, and to give posterity some idea of soldiers' life. The vermin in these huts and all on the streets was fearful. Every man was full of body lice; these was no escape. Between them and itch and scratching was the usual luxury.

Toward the close of the winter it became my almost daily duty to carry dispatches from camp to General Ewell's office in Richmond and wait for return ones to camp. In this way I saw much of the city and had rather a good time, saw many officers and generals, and saw a good deal of my friends Dr. and Mrs. Baer, who lived up on Churchill street. The doctor held a high official position in the surgeon general's office, collecting statistics for a surgical work. I saw many pretty girls, and would stop with many at street corners and at gates at the yard and talk to them as if I had known them all my life. They were friendly and patriotic and loved to pet the soldiers, especially if he was a young one. I became reckless, wild and venturesome, and had many escapades with the girls, but with all the temptations never learned to smoke or drink. There were many interesting details and interesting incidents that would take too much time to pen, as this book has already taken a wider scope than at first intended.

Many deserters and prisoners fell into our hands, being generally on advanced lines, and they systematically were searched for gold and greenbacks, and it was hid in every conceivable manner—in hat linings, waistbands, lining of coats, boots, between soles of shoes, in bootlegs, and twenty-dollar gold pieces fitted in holes in boot and shoe heels and then leather nailed over them. Our boys always swapped clothes, boots and shoes with them, and it was really amusing to hear the conversations of protest and persuasion used on such occasions, but I must pass on.

Brothers Go Home on Furlough.

Early in February, 1865, I got several letters from home advising of my father's approaching end. as he was old and worn out, and I applied for a furlough to go home twenty days to see him before he died. After the usual red ta|w was gone through with, as it was my turn and I had never had a leave of absence, I got mine through and started for Richmond in high glee for home, and none but a soldier knows what that meant. I got my government transportation ticket, which I have now in a pocket-book father gave me when I left home and which I carried through the war. It is now in my desk drawer. When I went to Dr. Baers house who should I meet there hut my brother, W. D. Crosland, just from Point Lookout, a Yankee prison. He had been there two years and we had despaired of ever seeing him again, and really thought him dead as we had, for some reason, long since ceased to hear from him. My joy can be imagined.

Poor fellow, he was emaciated, nearly starved to death, sick, lousy, and ragged as a buzzard. I hardly knew him. Poor fellow, how my heart bled for him. He had to remain a day or two to get some new clothes and get in shape to go home and I waited for him, when on the 23rd of February two joyous Confeds started in high glee for home. I was wild with glee and excitement. I recall when we got to Danville I was indignant at the number of worthless citizens around the depot who should have been at the front in the army. I took delight in telling them so, and was further provoked at their sleek, fat pet dogs while we were starving. As the train pulled out I was on the back platform and a terrier jumped on the track. I pulled down on him with a long Colt's revolver and hit him. It infuriated the citizens and greatly shocked my brother, but then I saw no wrong in it.

We went on without incident until we ran nearly into Goldsboro, when suddenly our engine was reversed and we backed rapidly for some distance, when we learned that we had been wired that the enemy had got possession of the railroad in our front. The train was put back and carried into Raleigh, N. C. There we spent the night and in the morning learned that there was no railroad communication any further south, that our only chance was to walk home. We immediately made up our minds to set out, which we did, but with much disappointment, as it cut short our time for home and gave us a long, weary and tiresome walk. But we were going home, and that compensated for all else. It took us two days to walk to Fayetteville, and near the second night we asked for lodging at a Miss McKethan's, on the north side of the river. It was granted and we found the house kept by two kind old maiden ladies. As soon as they learned our names and that we were Dr. Crosland's sons they could not do enough for us.

They put us before a blazing fire and soon the servant handed in a waiter of native wine. It was my first, and as I was weary and foot sore I concluded it would help me, so I drank half a glass, and in ten minutes I was all muddled up. Soon supper was announced, I could hardly get to the table, and when there felt I was acting the fool, but never suspected I was drunk and could not realize what was the matter. I tried to eat, was hungry, but my knife and fork would fall out of my hands. I would be startled at this and seize them up again and try to nerve myself to do better, for I was mortified, but it would happen again. How I got through I cannot tell, but my brother explained, he afterward told me, that I never indulged but was overtaken, and they were sorry for me. He assisted me back to the fire and after a little the good people, seeing we were worn out, allowed us to retire. The servant showed us to a beautiful room, a nice bed with clean sheets upon it. I can never forget that, it took us back.

We told the girl to go and tell the ladies to have the sheets taken off. that we were dirty and every way unfit to occupy their clean bed, that we would sleep on the floor, but they would not hear to it and said they would feel offended if we did not use the bed.

Well, we crawled in, a clean bed, a feather bed; it felt so good, so strange, so like home, after sleeping on hard floors and on the ground and in the mud so long. We soon fell asleep and knew nothing till morning, when the servant came and told us it was time to get up, breakfast was near ready. In a minute she returned with another waiter of wine. I remembered with shame the night before, and then thought of the long tramp before us, and concluded I would take just half the quantity I did at night.

We were soon dressed and were before the fire but a few minutes before breakfast was announced, and I found myself almost as drunk as the night before. I here determined never to touch strong drink again, to which I have adhered all my life. However, I got on tolerably well, and such a breakfast! Well, to a starving soldier, he alone could appreciate and do justice to it. These kind ladies would not hear to a cent for lodging, put us up a large lunch, and we departed with many benedictions upon them. They directed us to their brother in Fayetteville, who was a buggy manufacturer. In an hour or two we crossed the river and found him. He was very kind, but could not find us a horse and buggy to take us home, but found a little old covered wagon that was going to Cheraw, and got the man to take us for a consideration. We set out, but the team was poor and weak and we walked most of the way, riding only in very wet places and when we gave out. We spent the night at a Mrs. McLochlin's, a kinswoman of our Uncle Philip Crosland's wife. They treated us royally and got us off next morning soon with another good lunch.

Without further incident, weary and foot sore, yet all aglow with excitement and expectation as familiar sights and places came to our view as we neared home and realized that soon we would be there, we forgot all and were as if intoxicated and could not contain ourselves. As we came in sight of the old home tears came to our eyes and on we sped, and about 2 o'clock p. m. we passed our old private school house and met Throop, the baby, going to school, a very small boy. We and he were crazed with joy and we ran together into the back yard, where the family and house servants were. Our old friends caught on to the news and rushed for us, and such a time we had! On we rushed into the house, Throop ahead telling the news. We rushed into the family bedroom and there found father, mother and younger boys. Well, I can't tell it, only my heart will never forget the time. Father tottering, an old grey-headed invalid, weeping and overjoyed to see his sons—one of whom especially he never hoped to see again.

It was a pitiful and tender sight. And mother, mother, who can tell of a mother's love, weeping, laughing, hugging, kissing! Well, it brings my tears even now again as I write it. Father had heart disease and he tried to be calm, but he could not repress himself. Oh, such a time! And when the family were done, in rushed all the old servants—they would have hugged and kissed us, too. Oh, such a time! To think what those two old parents had suffered for us, and now to be reunited! As soon as the excitement had subsided we must then tell it all—how we came! how Brother Willie got out of prison; how we came together; how we got home; and when our tramp was told then a kind, tender mother thought of refreshments, and in they came. We must eat right there, take off our boots and rest, treat our blistered feet. Oh, such a father and mother! Well, we spent all the rest of the day right in that sacred room. Father and mother would sit and look at us and weep for joy, and then break off talking again. So we spent two happy days, but more trouble was ahead of us and them.

War Experience Used at Home.

Sherman had been steadily advancing from Columbia on his march northward and Bennettsville lay in his route, and ominous news was reaching our ears continually of his approach and his horrible devastation of property and private rights, and my poor parents saw that soon the accumulation of a life, if not life itself, would pass from them, and now their sons, just home from the enemy, must fly from home before him again. A council was called and it was determined that Brother Willie should take wagons at the largest plantation and haul cotton from the gin house all over the woods where it would not be found and destroyed. I was to do the same at the home place, haul all the bacon into a distant woods, and then take charge of all the slaves, some 30 or 40, and my brother to do the same at the other place, and camp out far from the dwellings in the woods. We supposed the enemy would confine himself to town and beaten roads. This we did. I remained with them and all our horses and mules in a camp one day and night, but we were betrayed by deserting negroes, and the Yankees were upon us before we knew it, though my army training stood me in good hand, for I placed myself on picket duty on the edge of the woods and clearing in a place where I could see any one approaching before they saw me. On Sunday morning 1 saw a lot of Yankees riding rapidly toward the woods from town. I made all speed back to camp, put horses, mules and negroes all in motion to go deeper into the woods, but soon I saw bluecoats in my front, then to each side, and rear. I saw I had been betrayed and surrounded and gave up for lost, but a faithful boy, Bob Crosland, who had served me and brother in the army, entreated me to run and he would throw them off my track.

Appealed to this way I slid off my horse, knowing this my only chance, and ran in the direction I saw clearest of Yankees. I ran some hundred yards and hid in a thick cluster of oak bushes where a pine had blown up by the roots. I heard the Yankees dash up, shooting, and then heard them running in my direction. They came very near me and stopped. They had some of the negroes with them, and I heard them threaten to shoot them if they did not tell where I was. I heard my boy, Olly's Bob we called him, answer at once that "he ran that way," in an opposite direction from one I took. They dashed off that way, but soon returned cursing and swearing they would kill me if found. I felt quite frightened and looked to be found every moment, but a kind Providence protected me. They soon gave up the chase and returned and took the horses and negroes and went back toward town. Still I soon found the woods full of men on foot and horseback. As soon as I dared move I crawled beside a log which a fire had burned hollow. I crawled beside the hollow side and lay close in it. Hardly had I done so before a Yankee stepped over the other end of the log. They were moving about all around me till late in the afternoon, when all became painfully quiet However, I lay still till night and then knew I could move about safely. I knew all the woods by heart and concluded to make toward the public road on the Marion Road. I moved cautiously along until I came to the edge of the plantation opening near the road.

Here I saw the plantation illuminated with thousands of camp fires and the town on fire, and thousands of moving forms in the distance. I knew this was no place for me, and started into the woods in another direction when I ran almost on to a camp fire of a picket post, and the man on picket duty seeing or hearing me, cried out "Halt." I fell on my knees and ran as fast as I could grunting like a hog. I heard the sentinel cursing the damned hog, how he scared him. I knew then I was safe, but as soon as I felt I was safe I rose and carefully but rapidly plunged into the woods deeper. I determined to go to the public road near Rev. J. A. W. Thomas's, and carefully approached same. I came out just in front of his house and cautiously took a survey. I found the rail fence had been moved across the road and a barricade made against a cavalry approach. I looked for pickets and found none, but my knowledge of military rules convinced me that I was in between two posts and I was on unsafe ground. I turned back into the woods, determined to get clear out of the public highways. Therefore I struck through the woods, and it was very dark, toward Carter Branch. I ran into a neighborhood road leading from Marion Road to Hebron Road, and concluded to go to a little but near Pine Plain Church, on Marion Road, and try to get something to eat, as I had had nothing since breakfast. I got to said hut and as I stepped in the back door and made myself known to the half-breeds they were much upset, and said Yankees were coming in every few moments and for me to get out at once as they would kill me, and them, too, as they had been hunting me. Said they would bring me something to eat when things got quiet, and just as I stepped out of the back door some Yankees walked in the opposite door. I slipped back some fifty yards in the woods and laid down in the fence corner and waited for things to get quiet, but Yankees were coming and going all night and I could hear them talking and laughing in the house all the time. I concluded, as it was between midnight and daybreak, it an unsafe place and took the back track to Carter Branch, on same road, and when I had got some two miles I took to the swamp at daylight and finding a long and large poplar log that had fallen with top in the road. I mounted this log and walked into the swamp until I came to the other end of it, when I found it hollow, and a very large one. Into this I crept and lay down and fell asleep, as I was tired out. I woke up about midday and could see the road and all passers without being seen. I saw several squads of Yankees passing on horseback, so kept close. Some buzzards saw me, however, and thinking me fit food came and lit on the stump of the tree. I frightened them off, but it made me feel queer.

When night came on I ventured out, determined to get some rations at risk of capture, as I was then thirty-six hours without a mouthful. 1 took up the same road and going some half mile found a log house in the middle of a small field and carefully approached it. I found all safe, went in and found old Aunt Free Sallie David, as she was called by all. I made myself known and what I wanted. She adopted me there and then, told me I need fear nothing, she nor none of her sons would betray me, and to come to her whenever I wanted food; offered to hide me in her house until danger was over, but I was afraid of this as I knew her husband had a bad reputation and never liked father. However, I ate heartily and wrote a note to mother assuring her of my safety and got Sally to put it in her bosom and carry it to mother.

Then I returned to my log and spent the remainder of the day.

About 10 o'clock at night I came out and went back to Aunt Sally"s. She had gotten home, and, what was better, brought a note from mother, who was, of course, overjoyed to know I was safe. Told me when my pursuers came back to town with negroes and my horse they passed the house and held up my overcoat I had left on my saddle in my flight, and told her they had killed me, and she was near crazy. Sallie told me of destruction of all property and that when father had tottered to the gate and begged the Yankees lo spare his corn and cotton as it was all he had to feed his children, they cursed him and threatened to throw him in the burning buildings. Sallie gave me all the details of town affairs and doings of the Yankees, Her husband reassured me of my safety and pressed me to stay at night with them, which I consented to do. My confidence in him flattered him and I made a fast friend of him and his grown sons, who were passing to town every day. In the morning, after an early breakfast, I went to my log again, and that day lay there and read Oliver Twist, which my faithful mother sent me to while away the time, and I appreciated little Oliver asking for more, for I had had the same fasting experience. About 10 o'clock I was startled by footsteps near me. I listened and I heard some one mount the log I was in. Then I was much concerned. On came the footsteps, seemingly very deliberate, and when on they came till directly over me my heart was in my mouth. I was sure I had been betrayed and was captured and perhaps would be shot right there. But I had little time to think for as I looked up expecting to see my captors, I saw an old rusty shoe put on the stump and in it was an old red foot with no sock on it. I knew in an instant that was no Yankee, and as one foot rested on the stump and the other on the log the face leaned over and peeped into the log, and I recognized it on the instant as James Bounds, an old carpenter and screw builder who had often worked for father. I hardly know who was frightened the worst, Bounds or myself, as he, on seeing a man in the log, gave a yell and a bound and went trotting down the log at a lively rate. I called to him, telling him who I was, when he came back and sat down and talked an hour with me.

He said some of the Alfred Parish's, a neighbor, had had a lot of clothing stolen from them and he was on the search for them, and knowing where this large hollow log was he concluded to look in it for them, thinking they might have been hid there until search was over. He said I had frightened him nearly out of his life, and it was some time before he recovered. I was glad to see any white face I knew. He left me promising to keep my secret and I resumed Oliver Twist. That night I went in to Sallies, got supper and spent the night, and risked myself next day, as report was the army was moving on. About 4 o'clock that afternoon as I was sitting talking, Aunt Sallie happened to go to the door, as she was continually on the watch for me, called out, "Run, Charlie, run, the Yankees are coming; one is right here." I had no time to get out, so made for her bed and started under it, when a voice said, "Come out of that" At once I recognized it as Brother Willie, and you may be sure I was not only relieved at my escape, but overjoyed to see him safe and be reunited. He teased me considerably about running under the bed. Sallie had taken his new Confederate blue-gray for a blue Yankee uniform. He recounted his adventures, which were very similar to mine, and he, too, on escaping from the enemy at the place I now live (Farmville), where he had congregated negroes and stock from the plantation his family now owns, had struck out through the woods and crossed the Marion Road and came to the same hut I was at, and came near capture, and the occupants, Jacobs, told him I had been there the night before and gone into the woods in rear. While there he, too, came near being captured. He then set out on the same road to find me, and coming to Sallies house concluded to go in and enquire if I had been seen, when he saw me getting under the bed in good style.

Well, he was surprised no little when he found how I had fared and had trusted my benefactors, and I could not persuade him it was safe and to join me in resting there. So at his desire we set out and went late that afternoon to the B. F. McGilvery plantation, near by, and got permission to sleep in the ginhouse. We passed a quiet night with sound sleep, and when we woke up the sun was high up, and as we came out our old army servant, Bob, was there calling us. He had come, sent by mother with a note sent to Aunt Sallie for me, to say the army was all gone and it was safe to come home to what was left, and with joy we went.

As we came upon the edge of the plantation we began to see the devastation, dead horses, cows, hogs all over the fields, fences all down and burned, roads all blockaded up, and all outhouses burned. First our large ginhouse, with 300 bales of cotton, was gone, then other houses, up town was all chimneys and no houses, and wreck was everywhere. I hardly knew the place. Not a horse or mule remained, all bacon and corn gone, nothing to live upon. Well, when we got to the house we had another joyful reunion and heard with heavy hearts the foul and dastardly treatment our parents had received. Negroes had been made to come in and insult them and help themselves to all clothing in the house or anything else they wished. The dwelling had been set on fire three times, the house robbed of everything and the family had scarce a change of clothing left. Words cannot express the deviltry and destruction inflicted. We went at once to work and went over the fields where the army was camped and collected the fragments of bacon and other meats and corn and other provisions they had lavishly thrown away, and with a few faithful servants who refused to go with the army and loved us, we got enough together to last us a time.

Friends Come to the Rescue.

Soon an incident occurred which I wish my children never to forget. Col. Hamp Rogers, of Brownsville, a big-hearted farmer who lived out of the track of Sherman's march, hearing of our destitution, loaded his wagons with corn, flour, bacon and hams and sent them to us as a present. The proud spirit of my father, heretofore worth near $300,000, was touched and humbled, too, and under other circumstances would have declined to receive the present, but as starvation was staring his family m the face he accepted the donation with many thanks, with the understanding he be allowed to pay for it when able. Ill health and hard work had already nearly done up my father, but the late and terrible reverses and intense excitement was too much for him, and he took to bed and sank rapidly worse, and amid a weeping family went to his Master on the 29th of March, 1865.

We foresaw the end was near, and though my furlough was out and my brother was to report back to the army, we determined to see the end and try and leave the family as well provided for as possible. We laid the remains of our father to rest at his birthplace, the old Philip Crosland place, and have since moved them to Oak Ridge Cemetery, Bennettsville. Our robbery was so complete that we were compelled to dress the body in an old darned, castaway suit of clothes, and in a common pine coffin stained with soot and turpentine. It hurt us much, but was the best we could do. In a few days we made up our minds that we must return to our commands, and tearfully we set out after a sad parting from our widowed mother, with her strong arm she had leaned on so long gone. Here let me say, just before our departure Henry Rogers and Col. Ham. Rogers again sent their loaded wagons to the door of our widowed mother begging to help her while her boys went to fight their battles. God bless their memory. He will reward them.

Proud Possessors of Mules.

We took our two army negro boys and started our tramp to Richmond, as there was no railroad in operation but near General Lee's army. The first day we marched to Cheraw and spent the night some five miles the other side at a Mr. Barrentine's. Next day we reached Wadesboro, our heels blistered, and were cared for by a Mrs. Lisles. The next day we struck out for Albermarle Courthouse, as we heard that it was probable if we could reach Salisbury we might strike railroad connection to Richmond. We made this detour westward to avoid Sherman's advancing army northward, not knowing where he would strike for. Just before we reached Albermarle we met several squads of Confederate soldiers coming home, who all told us the war was over and General Lee had surrendered. We did not believe them and concluded they were deserters. What, General Lee surrender! We regarded that an impossibility, absurd, it had never dawned on us such a thing could he possible, such an exalted admiration and faith had we for and in him. We scouted the idea. On we went, arrived near night, worn out, at Albermarle, but heard the same story from all sources. We lodged at an hotel here, paying in Confederate money, which still passed though almost worthless, rested our weary limits, and awoke next morning with hope of better news, but concluding to rest here a day before going further and see if reports could be true. Soon General Gardener, a quartermaster general stationed here pressing horses for army and gathering supplies, advised us to go home, that our cause was lost. Still we doubted, and soon a colonel of infantry came in with his stars on his collar; then a general, who told us it was true, Lee had surrendered and they were from his army and had witnessed the surrender. Well, I can never make my feelings understood but to a loyal fellow soldier of Lee's army. When the news dawned on my understanding as a fact, I stood in the road and cried like a child, like my heart would break, saying Lee has surrendered after all his gallant fight, remembering all we had gone through with him, then when I remembered that the cruel war was over and that we were free to go home to the family and remain, no more starving, freezing, fatigue and danger of death and capture, I laughed aloud. Then remembering past glory of Lee was gone, what surrender involved, I was ashamed of my mirth and cried again. For several hours we both talked over the fact, and laughed and cried alternately like two hysterical women.

Home now was our next thought, and afterward what? No horse or mule there to plow for a living, it was a gloomy prospect.

There was a large drove of mules and horses the above quartermaster general had pressed in for the government in a lot in the town. We went to the general and tried to describe our condition at home after Sherman s march, and asked him to let us have four mules, one each for ourselves and boys. He hesitated a while and then told us to go and pick them out, taking our receipt for them in case he should ever have to account for them. We could find no bridles, so I went to the wagon yard of the quartermaster and gave a driver (negro) $100 for a plow line off a covered wagon.

We took this and cut in four pieces and tied each piece around the lower jaw of the mules we had selected, and mounted bareback, the other end of the line just long enough for us to reach it. We set out this way for home, down that long, steep series of hills, as proud of our luck as kings. The country was infested with robbers and deserters, and we feared violence all the way, for it was a wild country. We rode steadily, however, without any rest or molestation, fearing any ill luck, till we reached Mr. Barrentine's, near Cheraw, who had kindly entertained us on our way up. He received us again kindly and rejoiced with us over our good luck. We spent the night with him and next day, Sunday morning, the 16th day of April, set out for home and soon were on Marlboro soil again to stay. The sight of mules agitated many on the road and all wanted to stop and talk and buy us out, but we had no time to idle and pushed on, and well do I remember as we crossed the creek bridges and rose the hill and came upon the main street church services were over and the sidewalk was full of people, men, ladies and children coming home from service, and a pretty swell we cut leaning forward to grip our line, our pants up to our knees, bareback and sore and skinned from said fact. We made a triumphant entry into the town. We were at once the center of attraction as all knew as at once, and four mules cut a sensation. We brought first news of Lees surrender, as we had no mails or wires running since Shermans destructive march. All were pained at the news and very sad.

Several old gentlemen jumped off the pavement and came, Sunday as it was, offering to buy our mules. We were offered $300 apiece for them in gold, but they represented meat and bread for our family and a starting of shattered fortunes which was more than gold, so to all we said no. When we rode into the back yard at home there was joy again on our good mother s face to see her two boys again at home, and to see the mules which meant so much to us.

We were never called upon to return these mules and they were the means of a new start in life, and here must end these reminiscences of my war experiences as peace had dawned upon all the land.

CHAS. CROSLAND.

I omitted to say Gary's Brigade was composed of The Hampton Legion, the Seventh South Carolina Cavalry, the Eighth Georgia Cavalry Regiment, and the Twenty-fourth Virginia Cavalry Regiment. The cronological order of the different battles I cannot vouch for, nor the dates, as time has dimmed my memory and I had no means of keeping up dates. Kept no diary and trusted alone to memory. C. C.

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