Life in Dixie during the War, 1861-1862-1863-1864-1865. Gay Mary Ann Harris
seat audience.
CHAPTER IV.
LABORS OF LOVE
A patriotic co-operation between the citizens of Decatur and Atlanta soon sprang up, and in that, as in all things else, a social and friendly interchange of thought and feeling and deed existed; and we were never so pleased as when aiding each other in the preparation of clothing and edibles for “our soldiers,” or in some way contributing to their comfort.
Many of us who had never learned to sew became expert handlers of the needle, and vied with each other in producing well-made garments; and I became a veritable knitting machine. Besides the discharge of many duties incident to the times and tending to useful results, I knitted a sock a day, long and large, and not coarse, many days in succession. At the midnight hour the weird click of knitting needles chasing each other round and round in the formation of these useful garments for the nether limbs of “our boys,” was no unusual sound; and tears and orisons blended with woof and warp and melancholy sighs. For at that dark hour, when other sounds were shut out, we dared to listen with bated breath to “the still, small voice” that whispered in no unmistakable language suggestions which would have been rebuked in the glare of the noonday sun.
No mother nor sister nor wife nor aunt of a Confederate soldier, need be told what were the depressing suggestions of that “still, small voice” on divers occasions.
When the knitting of a dozen pairs of socks was completed, they were washed, ironed and neatly folded by one of our faithful negro women, and I then resumed the work of preparing them for their destination. Each pair formed a distinct package. Usually a pretty necktie, a pair of gloves, a handkerchief and letter, deposited in one of the socks, enlarged the package. When all was ready, a card bearing the name of the giver, and a request to “inquire within,” was tacked on to each package. And then these twelve packages were formed into a bundle, and addressed to an officer in command of some company chosen to be the recipient of the contents.
I will give a glimpse of the interior of my letters to our boys. These letters were written for their spiritual edification, their mental improvement and their amusement.
“Never saw I the righteous forsaken.”
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
P. S. – “Apples are good but peaches are better;
If you love me, you will write me a letter.” – M.
“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.”
“If in the early morn of life,
You give yourself to God,
He’ll stand by you ’mid earthly strife,
And spare the chast’ning rod.” —
P. S. – “Roses are red and violets blue,
Sugar is sweet and so are you.” – M.
“Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
“May every joy that earth can give
Around thee brightly shine;
Remote from sorrow may you live,
And all of heaven be thine.” —
P. S. – Remember me when this you see,
Though many miles apart we be. – M
“Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.”
“This above all – to thine own self be true,
And it must follow as night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any one.”
P. S. – “Sure as the vine twines round the stump,
You are my darling sugar lump.” – M.
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us, therefore, cast off the works of darkness and let us put on the armour of light.”
“As for my life, it is but short,
When I shall be no more;
To part with life I am content,
As any heretofore.
Therefore, good people, all take heed,
This warning take by me —
According to the lives you lead,
Rewarded you shall be.”
P. S. – “My pen is bad, my ink is pale,
My love for you shall never fail.” – M.
“Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God.”
“The harp that once through Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara’s wall,
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory’s thrill is o’er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus Freedom, now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks
To show that still she lives.” —
P. S. – “My love for you will ever flow,
Like water down a cotton row.” – M
“The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein.
“For He hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods.
“Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in his holy place?
“He that hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity nor sworn deceitfully.”
“Know thyself, presume not God to scan.
The proper study of mankind is man.”
P. S. – “Round as the ring that has no end,
Is my love for you, my own sweet friend.” – M.
“God is love.”
“Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that there array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?”
P. S. – “If you love me as I love you,
No knife can cut our love in two.” – M.
“But this I say, He that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully, shall reap also