But there is not a child in your household who would not be interested in the account of how the poor starved horse was lassoed and secured—how he was fed and strengthened, and cared for, and finally harnessed up with ropes and pieces of crocus sacks; how the letters, “U. S.” were found branded on each of his sides, causing his mistress to name him “Yankee”; how she grew to love him so that she deemed that name ill-fitting, and decided to re-christen him “Johnnie Reb.,” which she did one day with effective ceremonial by a brook-side; how he rendered invaluable service to his mistress many and many a time, and was a treasured member of the little family that passed such stormy times in the war-stricken village of Decatur; all this is worth reading, told, as it is, with a gentle humor, and a strict truthfulness which is the chief charm of that historic picture. For it is historic. And it were well for the rising generation to read its vivid portrayals of that period.
And though Miss Gay was evidently an ardent secessionist, and is now, I fancy, one of the altogether unreconstructed few, her book contains records of more than one kindness received at the hands of officers of the United States army—kindness proffered, too, in the face of her fearless avowal of opinion.
Some parts of the book (I will add, if the gentle author will allow me) seem somewhat too bitter towards our brethren of the North. But this criticism is from the standpoint of one who knew not the horrors of that dreadful war. If I had seen the desolation and destruction which followed it in the wake of Sherman’s army, as Miss Gay saw it and suffered by it (through mother and brother and friends, as well as through personal privation),—if I had thus suffered, doubtless I, too, would be unable to look impartially upon these Federal leaders and their actuating motives—unable to see that, though Sherman was a most unmerciful conqueror, he was not altogether a fiend.
But there is only a touch of this severe judgment in Miss Gay’s little book. The greater portion of it is simply historic—a faithful chronicling of events experienced by the writer herself, who was a veritable heroine in those days of horrors.
Miss Gay is to be congratulated upon the fact that “Life in Dixie” is entering upon its second edition. Let me suggest that you get it for your children, you parents. The rising generation should learn of the stirring events which happened right here in Atlanta thirty years ago.
The story will hold their attention and interest throughout—the soldier-brother who fell in the strife, the faithful black Toby sketched so tenderly, the perilous trip of Miss Gay herself, as she carried the blankets and overcoats through the enemy’s ranks to the boys in gray—all this will vastly entertain those young folks, at the same time it teaches them of the Battle of Atlanta, and the concurrent events.—Emel Jay[6], in The Atlanta Journal, November 24th, 1894.
“Life in Dixie During the War” is the title of a volume just perused which transcends in interest, truth and beauty all the historical tomes and garlanded fiction to which that epoch has given birth. It embraces the personal experiences and observations of a woman, gifted far beyond the ordinary, who came in contact with the sadness, the bloodshed and the misery of the unhappy struggle. A loved brother laid down his life on the bloodiest battle-field, friends parted and vanished from her, and wealth was swallowed in the maw of destruction.
She tells her story—for story it is—with an exquisite grace, and with a woman’s tenderness and sympathy for the people she loved and the cause she adored. Her language is lofty upon occasion, her memories perhaps too keen, her gentleness possibly too exclusive to her own, but her work is done with a fidelity and consistency beyond comparison. The scene is Decatur, Ga., but threads, visible or invisible, reach to every hamlet and entwine every heart in the evanished Confederacy. The heroism of men, the daring of boys, the endurance of women, alike are painted with a skill that requires no color.
Those who wish to embalm their recollections of home-life during the war, and those who desire to know what it was, should read this book. It is one of the records of the past that should be in every library. It is beautifully printed, neatly cloth-bound, and contains 300 pages.—The Tampa Daily Times, January 17, 1895.