By Louise Wigfall Wright
IN accumulating the unhappy and chuffed stories of the years of which I write, i'm actuated via explanations - 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 obvious this stuff grows dim and the reminiscence defective; and the opposite, that i might fain dwell within the strategies of the youngsters who shall come after me, and feature their hearts, as they learn this list, beat in unison with mine. therefore we could be associated jointly in those memories.
I take note, in the summertime of 1858, sitting at the large piazza in entrance of our domestic in Marshall, Texas, staring at the nice comet that hung within the heavens. i will be able to see now the crêpe myrtle trees with their rose-colored blossoms, flanking the stairs; think 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 toddler, I felt the impression of the time: nice occasions have been forming; the "irrepressible conflict," which culminated within the lousy fight of the sixties, was once simply turning into, to the brain of thinkers, a worried likelihood; 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 basically certain impact left on my brain of the summer time of '58.
within the autumn my father was once elected the kingdom Senate and we made arrangements for our trip to Austin. there have been no railroads around the country in these days, and the masses of miles needed to be traversed by means of deepest conveyance, or by way of degree coach.
We determined to make the day trip in our outdated- formed family members carriage, drawn via a couple of stout horses and pushed via our negro coachman, Henry.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 levels - our bags, after all, being despatched on by way of trainer. we'd force approximately thirty miles an afternoon - by no means extra; preventing in the course of the day for an hour or so, whilst the horses will be completely rested and fed, and we'd have our luncheon.
At evening, we continuously stopped at a handy farmhouse, the positioning of which were formerly realized, and whose proprietors have been accustomed, in a rustic the place there have been no hotels, to obtain occasional travelers.
What a pleasant trip it was once! the attractive, point, prairie roads, difficult, white and soft, over which we rolled, with little attempt at the horses' half - stretching in the back of and sooner than us that vast expanse of prairie, now, in November, coated with tall, waving, yellow grass; yet in June excellent with the beautiful blue plant life 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 sunlight shining!
i don't bear in mind any wet days within the ten in which we have been at the highway. The noon meal, taken through the banks of a few transparent, attractive circulate, used to be a dinner party certainly - a regular picnic of the main spell binding kind.
I bear in mind basically adventures incidentally. One was once our atmosphere the prairie on fireplace by way of thoughtlessly throwing a lighted fit within the dry grass, which would have resulted very heavily had we no longer been close to a circulate, 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 engaging and novel sight, seen at a secure distance. And it ended in a lot merriment, as we recalled our first worried efforts to place out the prairie fireplace through futile little journeyings to and from the circulate with cups of water.
Our different experience was once fording the Brazos River, a huge, swift-running, shallow move, so limpid that the stones at the backside have been basically 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