Then, before the astonished man could recover himself, with a quick movement she had snatched the bread back again. Scarcely had she got possession, however, when a revulsion of feeling took place, and, breaking it in two, tossed them at him in the scorn which filled her soul as she said: “But if your heart is hard enough to take it, then you may have it.”
She threw them with such force that one of the hot pieces struck him in the face, the other immediately following. Strange to say, he did not resent her treatment of him; but it was too much for Aunt Myra’s excited feelings when he picked up the bread, and commenced munching upon it in the most unconcerned manner possible. Again snatching it from him, she flung it far out of the window, where it lay rolling in dirt, crying as she did so: “Indeed, you shan’t eat it; if I can’t have it, then you shan’t.”
“THE CORN WOMAN”
[Our Women in the War, page 276.]
“The corn woman” was a feature of the times. The men in the counties north of us were mostly farmers, owning small farms which they worked with the assistance of the family. Few owned slaves, and they planted garden crops chiefly. The men were now in the army, and good soldiers many of them made. During the last two years, for various reasons, many of the wives of these soldiers failed in making a crop, and were sent with papers from the probate judges to the counties south to get corn. No doubt these were really needy, and they were supplied abundantly, and then, thinking it an easy way to make a living, others not needing help came. They neglected to plant crops, as it was far more easy to beg all the corn they wanted than to work it. Women whose husbands were at home, who never had been in the army, young girls and old women came in droves—all railroad cars and steamboats were filled with “corn women.”
They came twenty and thirty together, got off at the stations and landings for miles, visiting every plantation and never failing to get their sacks filled and sent to the depot or river for them. Some had bedticks; one came to me with a sack over two yards long and one yard wide that would have held ten bushels of corn, and she had several like it. They soon became perfect nuisances. When you objected to giving they abused you; they no longer brought papers; when we had no corn to spare we gave them money, which they said they would rather have. It would save the trouble of toting corn, and they could buy it at home for the money. I once gave them twenty-five dollars, all I had in the house at the time. “Well, this won’t go to buy much corn, but as far as it do go we’s obliged to you,” were the thanks. I saw a party of them on a steamboat counting their money. They had hundreds of dollars and a quantity of corn. The boats and railroads took them free. I was afterward told by a railroad official that their husbands and fathers 167 met them at the depot and either sold the corn or took it to the stills and made it into whiskey. They hated the army and all in it and despised the negro, who returned the compliment with interest. The very sight of a corn woman made them and the overseers angry. They regarded them as they did the army worm.
GENERAL ATKINS AT CHAPEL HILL
[In Last Ninety Days of the War, page 33.]