Forget-me-nots of the civil war; a romance, containing reminiscences and original letters of two Confederate soldiers (1909) (14576070628)

Identifier: forgetmenotsofci00batt (find matches)
Title: Forget-me-nots of the civil war; a romance, containing reminiscences and original letters of two Confederate soldiers
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Battle, Laura Elizabeth Lee
Subjects:
Publisher: St. Louis, Mo., Press A. R. Fleming printing co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation



Text Appearing Before Image:
a gwine to call her Betsy. So it was settled bythem, and from then on I was called by each of thosenames as each member of the family or friend hap-pened to think of first. Aunt Pallas, whom you will meet throughout thepages of this book, was a typical African in color,though her head was larger than the average negro,with the kinky hair growing low on her forehead, hereyes were very small, but lighted up by intelli-gence. Her nose was large and flat, and most decidedlygave the appearance of a full-blooded native of Africa.Her mouth was large, with full lips even adding toher homeliness. Her shoulders were square, thebody and hips with straight lines like a mans. Herlimbs were muscular and her stature, though short, wasas erect as a young Indians. She claimed that shemade herself so by carrying pails of water on her headwhen she was a child. I declare before goodness, she used to say, thatCol. Johnnie Hinton bought my mammy from someniggah traders, dat told him mammy was a guinea nig-
Text Appearing After Image:
Aunt Pallas. MY ARRIVAIy AT VhITE: OAKS/ U gah and blonged to de quality, an dats why she calledme Pallas—day shore did get my name out of thedicshummary. Her homeliness was so marked thatit really helped to make her attractive. Her age, likeevery other one of her race, was a problem we nevercould guess, except from bits of history that she wouldtell us. She remembered when George Washingtondied, and many incidents of the Revolutionary war. Our large family lived on the farm called WhiteOaks, near a small town called Clayton. The landmy father planted in grain at that time, and as thesoil was later found suitable for cotton he and theboys had hard times making both ends meet. Twoof the older boys had married, leaving the burden onhim and the younger sons. He was well advancedin years at this time. My father was a typical South-ern gentleman, with a courtly dignified bearing, andwas well educated for the times. He was a descend-ant from that illustrious Virginia family whose liveshav