“‘You won’t? Well, then, I’ll keep it and give it to my mother or sister when I get back to Boston,’ and so saying, in nasal tones that were hateful to my ears, the ruffian pocketed the only souvenir I possessed of ‘the tender grace of a day that is dead that can never come back to me.’
“Meanwhile, the tumult outside increased. Fresh voices appeared to swell the chorus of yells, and we soon learned that the Yankees had been joined by another troop of horsemen. These, with the negroes who had by this time cast off all restraint, and who numbered fifty or sixty, were holding a wild revel over several barrels of whiskey—for it was the latter and not gold that had called forth such jubilant cries. Unfortunately, only a day before this, this liquor had been stored away for safe-keeping in an outhouse.
“Now followed a succession of scenes that beggars description. The ruffians drank and swore, and some, sitting beside the barrels, uttered the most horrible blasphemies. Others with a canteen of whiskey in one hand, while the other brandished a gun, filed in and out of the house, filling our ears with what they intended doing if the gold was not soon found. The negroes, half-crazed by the liquor they had imbibed, and urged on by the Yankees, crowded into the rooms, taking liberties they had never before attempted, and appropriating what little spoil the men had left. Only a few proved faithful in this hour of trial.
“All night long the men kept up their wild orgies, quarrelling and even fighting meantime for a fresh distribution of spoil. The new-comers wanted their share, and at the point of the bayonet urged their demand. To make matters worse the negroes held a revel of their own to celebrate the advent of their ‘Northern bred’rin.’ For hours we could hear them dancing and shouting, and calling down all manner of blessings on ‘Ole Mars’ Lincoln,’ until overcome by excitement and the whiskey they had imbibed they fell exhausted into a drunken sleep.
“It was about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, when the Colonel, followed by some of the most desperate looking of his ruffians, rushed up to Earle, and shaking his gun at him, exclaimed, in a voice quivering with passion:
“‘Curse you! We won’t wait another moment on you to deliver up the gold. Tell us where it is, or by G— I’ll shoot you down.’
“In a shorter time than I can relate it, the inhuman wretches dragged my helpless brother beneath a large maple tree, and placing a strong rope around his neck, prepared to execute their threat. Ah! the agony of that moment! We read of the times that tried men’s hearts, but where is the pen that can ever portray the depths of suffering which have been fathomed by the hearts of Southern women during the dark days of Secession!
“The rope was tightening, when one of the men exclaimed: ‘Where is his wife! She must see him swing!’ And, as if in answer to his call, Iris sprang forward and tightly grasped the rope.