On the way to the post-office early one morning in the sultry month of July, 1864, to mail a number of letters which I deemed too important to be entrusted to other hands, I was accosted as follows by “Uncle Mack,” the good negro blacksmith, whose shop was situated immediately upon the route:
“Did you know, Miss Mary, that the Yankees have crossed the river, and are now this side of the Chattahoochee.”
“Why, no!” I said, and added with as much calmness as I could affect, “I do not know why I should be surprised—there is nothing to prevent them from coming into Decatur.”
With an imprecation more expressive than elegant, that evil should overtake them before getting here, he resumed hammering at the anvil, and I my walk to the post-office. Nor was Uncle Mack the only one who volunteered the information that “The Yankees are coming—they are this side the river.”
The time had come to devise means and methods of concealing the winter clothing and other accoutrements entrusted to my care by our dear soldiers. In order to save them, what should I do with them?—was a question which I found myself unable to answer. An attempt to retain and defend them would be futile indeed. And I have no right to jeopardize my mother’s home by a rash effort to accomplish an impossibility. But what shall I do with these precious things, is the question. A happy thought struck me, and I pursued it only to find it delusive. The near approach of Sherman’s army developed the astounding fact that Dr. A. Holmes, of Decatur, a Baptist minister of some prominence, claimed to be a Union man, in full sympathy with any means that would soonest quell the rebellion. This I had not heard, and in my dilemma I went to him to impart my plans and ask advice. He was morose and reticent, and I hesitated; but, driven by desperation, I finally said: “Dr. Holmes, as a minister of the gospel, are you not safe? All civilized nations respect clerical robes, do they not?”
“I think so,” he said, and continued by saying, “I have other claims upon the Federal army which will secure me from molestation.”
A look of surprise and inquiry being my only answer, he said, “Amid the secession craze, I have never given up my allegiance to the United States.”
“Why, Dr. Holmes!” I said, in unfeigned surprise.
“I repeat most emphatically that I have remained unshaken in my allegiance to the United States. I have no respect for a little contemptible Southern Confederacy, whose flag will never be recognized on land or on sea.”
This was a sad revelation to me. On more than one occasion I had heard Dr. Holmes pray fervently for the success of the Southern cause, and to hear such changed utterances from him now, pained me exceedingly. Heartsore and discouraged, I turned from him, and was leaving without the usual ceremony, when he said: