She
looked so funny with her big fat legs that I giggled. Mrs. Blakeley
slapped me--it was one of the few times she struck me. I was glad she
did, for I would have laughed out. And it didn't do to laugh at
Northerners.
It wes night before the fighting was over. An old man who was in the
basement with us went upstairs because he heard someone groan. Sure
enough a wounded man had dragged himself to our door. He laid the man,
almost fainting down before the fireplace. It was all he could do. The
man died. When we finally came up there wasn't a pea, nor a bit of ham,
not a crum of cornbread. Floaters had cleaned the pot until it shone.
We had a terrible time getting along during those years. I don't believe
we could have done it except for the Northern soldiers. You might say
the Confederacy was kept up by private subscription, but the Yankees had
the whole Federal government back of them. They had good rations which
were issued uncooked. They could get them prepared anywhere they liked.
We were good cooks so that is the way we got our food--preparing it for
soldiers and eating it with them. They had quite a variety and a lot of
everything. They were given bacon and coffee and sugar and flour and
beans and somthing they called 'mixed vegetables'. Those beans were
little and sweet--not like the big ones we have today. The mixed
vegetables were liked by lots of folks--I didn't care for them.
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