By Louise Wigfall Wright
IN amassing the unhappy and satisfied stories of the years of which I write, i'm actuated via causes - one, that i'm wakeful that the times are passing, and that if performed in any respect, the chronicle had top be written ere the attention that has noticeable these items grows dim and the reminiscence defective; and the opposite, that i'd fain dwell within the ideas of the kids who shall come after me, and feature their hearts, as they learn this list, beat in unison with mine. therefore lets be associated jointly in those memories.
I keep in mind, in the summertime of 1858, sitting at the wide piazza in entrance of our domestic in Marshall, Texas, looking at the nice comet that hung within the heavens. i will see now the crêpe myrtle trees with their rose-colored blossoms, flanking the stairs; believe back the nice and cozy, languorous air of the summer season evening, heavy with the scent of white jasmine, and honeysuckle; and listen to back the voices, lengthy stilled, as we talked jointly of the comet and its portent. As a baby, I felt the effect of the time: nice occasions have been forming; the "irrepressible conflict," which culminated within the lousy fight of the sixties, was once simply changing into, to the brain of thinkers, a anxious chance; and once we checked out the blazing comet in that reasonable summer season sky, a sense of awe and secret enveloped us. evening after evening we watched it, and singular to claim, it's the in simple terms unique effect left on my brain of the summer season of '58.
within the autumn my father used to be elected the country Senate and we made arrangements for our trip to Austin. there have been no railroads around the nation in these days, and the masses of miles needed to be traversed by way of inner most conveyance, or by way of degree coach.
We determined to make the excursion in our outdated- formed relations carriage, drawn via a couple of stout horses and pushed via our negro coachman, Henry. My brother got here with us on horseback. We made the adventure in effortless phases - our baggage, after all, being despatched on through trainer. we might force approximately thirty miles an afternoon - by no means extra; preventing in the midst of the day for an hour or so, while the horses will be completely rested and fed, and we might have our luncheon.
At evening, we consistently stopped at a handy farmhouse, the site of which were formerly discovered, and whose proprietors have been accustomed, in a rustic the place there have been no lodges, to obtain occasional travelers.
What a pleasant trip it was once! the gorgeous, point, prairie roads, not easy, white and soft, over which we rolled, with little attempt at the horses' half - stretching at the back of and sooner than us that vast expanse of prairie, now, in November, lined with tall, waving, yellow grass; yet in June wonderful with the beautiful blue flora of the buffalo clover - preventing, every now and then, to water the horses from the natural, limpid springs; the heavens blue as a sapphire and the solar shining!
i don't take into account any wet days within the ten within which we have been at the street. The noon meal, taken by means of the banks of a few transparent, appealing circulation, used to be a dinner party certainly - an everyday picnic of the main enthralling kind.
I remember merely adventures incidentally. One used to be our environment the prairie on hearth by means of thoughtlessly throwing a lighted fit within the dry grass, which would have resulted very heavily had we no longer been close to a movement, and had no longer the wind been blowing in the direction of it, and within the wrong way from that during which we have been going. because it occurred, it used to be an enticing and novel sight, seen at a secure distance. And it led to a lot merriment, as we recalled our first apprehensive efforts to place out the prairie fireplace by means of futile little journeyings to and from the movement with cups of water.
Our different event was once fording the Brazos River, a wide, swift-running, shallow flow, so limpid that the stones at the backside have been sincerely visible.
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Additional info for A Southern Girl in '61 The War-Time Memories of a Confederate Senator's Daughter [1905.]
A Southern Girl in '61 The War-Time Memories of a Confederate Senator's Daughter [1905.] by Louise Wigfall Wright