What Happened to Me

by La Salle Corbell Pickett

My friends in Petersburg had announced my coming, and a number of engagements had been made for me. The first was a large party at the Johnsons' and the next at the Raglands'. I did not know whether my Soldier would approve of my going without him and I neither wished to go nor approved of it myself, so I begged to be allowed to await his arrival the next day and make my first appearance with him. On seeing his look of loving appreciation I was very thankful to have made the decision. The party at the Raglands' was one of the largest and most brilliant ever given in Petersburg, and that evening our engagement was announced.

Two days later I was to start for my father's home but was amazed, especially as my Soldier was in command, to find that I could not get a permit. He was positive in his refusal and would make no exception in my favor. However, he consented to date for me a permit a week in advance. At the end of the week I said good-bye to him at the station and for the first time was wounded by him, almost heart-broken, because he did not seem as sorry at parting from me as I thought he ought to be. Besides, there was a peculiar quizzical twinkle in his eye that puzzled me and occupied my thoughts all the way down to Ivor Station, where my uncle, Doctor Phillips, met me. Though fretting because the parting had seemed of so little moment to my Soldier and wishing that I had not been sorry either, that is, not so sorry as I was, the drive from the station proved most pleasant and brought us to my uncle's near noon. That evening as I was about to retire, a little after eight (they go to bed early in the country), we heard horses galloping down the lane.

"Listen to the clanking of the swords," said my uncle. "Those are certainly soldiers and I did not know there were any within miles of us."

I listened, heard the horses turned over to the orderly, heard footsteps on the gravel, then on the porch, and in answer to my uncle's greeting I recognized with unutterable joy the voice of my own Soldier and that of one of his staff. They were asking for me, had been welcomed, and the candle was lighting them into the parlor. The dread mystery of my Soldier's cheerfulness at parting from me was explained. He had come through on the same day with a part of his division and they were then in camp on the Blackwater a few miles distant.

When the division crossed the Blackwater and marched on to Suffolk I went to the home of my aunt, Mrs. Eley, at Barber's Cross Roads, a distance of about ten miles from Suffolk. Here when all was quiet along the lines my Soldier would ride in from his headquarters almost every night between the hours of sunset and sunrise to see me—a ride of about thirty miles. While these short visits were glimpses of heaven to me, they resulted sadly for my aunt, whose house, in consequence, was burned by the Federals.

At the earnest solicitation of my Soldier, who feared my remaining within the enemy's lines, I went to an old friend in Richmond, Mrs. Shields, the wife of Colonel Shields. When on this visit I first met General "Jeb" Stuart, the "Red Fox" of the Confederacy, thus named because of the blonde glory of his coloring and the swiftness of his movements, as well as his wiliness in evading pursuit. He was said to be one of the handsomest men in the South, and perhaps it was true, but I was at that time too much absorbed in the contemplation of the, to me, handsomest man in the world to have discriminating eyes for the beauty of anyone else.

Among those of our officers most noted for personal attractions was General Longstreet, who was thought to resemble "Jeb" in appearance. A story is told of an ardent admirer of the "Red Fox" who, meeting the "old War Horse," General Longstreet, said, "General Stuart, I just met a man who told me of mistaking you for General Longstreet, but I don't see how he could. Longstreet is not half as handsome as you are." General Longstreet gravely replied, "Yes, I am sometimes taken for Longstreet."

As we danced at a ball at "Yellow Tavern" General Stuart teasingly commiserated my Soldier on his bad luck in belonging to the infantry.

"I am sorry for Pickett, poor fellow! He has to walk. Upon my word, he ought to be in the cavalry. He deserves it. What a pity! And you, Miss Lassie—why should you throw yourself away on the infantry? You ought to marry a cavalryman."