Now for our losses at the Hermitage. Added to the gold-headed canes and Claudia, we lost every mule and horse, and President Davis’s beautiful Arabian was captured. John’s were there, too. My light dragoon, Johnny, and heavy swell, is stripped light enough for the fight now. Jonathan, whom we trusted, betrayed us; and the plantation and mills, Mulberry house, etc., were saved by Claiborne, that black rascal, who was suspected by all the world. Claiborne boldly affirmed that Mr. Chesnut would not be hurt by destroying his place; the invaders would hurt only the negroes. “Mars Jeems,” said he, “hardly ever come here and he takes only a little sompen nur to eat when he do come.”

Fever continuing, I sent for St. Julien Ravenel. We had a wrangle over the slavery question. Then, he fell foul of everybody who had not conducted this war according to his ideas. Ellen had something nice to offer him (thanks to the ever-bountiful Childs!), but he was too angry, too anxious, too miserable to eat. He pitched into Ellen after he had disposed of me. Ellen stood glaring at him from the fireplace, her blue eye nearly white, her other eye blazing as a comet. Last Sunday, he gave her some Dover’s powders for me; directions were written on the paper in which the medicine was wrapped, and he told her to show these to me, then to put what I should give her into a wine-glass and let me drink it. Ellen put it all into the wine-glass and let me drink it at one dose. “It was enough to last you your lifetime,” he said. “It was murder.” Turning to Ellen: “What did you do with the directions?” “I nuvver see no d’rections. You nuvver gimme none.” “I told you to show that paper to your mistress.” “Well, I flung dat ole brown paper in de fire. What you makin’ all dis fuss for? Soon as I give Missis de physic, she stop frettin’ an’ flingin’ ’bout, she go to sleep sweet as a suckling baby, an’ she slep two days an’ nights, an’ now she heap better.” And Ellen withdrew from the controversy.

“Well, all is well that ends well, Mrs. Chesnut. You took opium enough to kill several persons. You were worried out and needed rest. You came near getting it—thoroughly. You were in no danger from your disease. But your doctor and your nurse combined were deadly.” Maybe I was saved by the adulteration, the feebleness, of Confederate medicine.

A letter from my husband, written at Chester Court House on March 15th, says: “In the morning I send Lieut. Ogden with Lawrence to Lincolnton to bring you down. I have three vacant rooms; one with bedsteads, chairs, wash-stands, basins, and pitchers; the two others bare. You can have half of a kitchen for your cooking. I have also at Dr. Da Vega’s, a room, furnished, to which you are invited (board, also). You can take your choice. If you can get your friends in Lincolnton to assume charge of your valuables, only bring such as you may need here. Perhaps it will be better to bring bed and bedding and the other indispensables.”

XX
CHESTER, S. C.
March 21, 1865-May 1, 1865

Chester, S. C., March 21, 1865.—Another flitting has occurred. Captain Ogden came for me; the splendid Childs was true as steel to the last. Surely he is the kindest of men. Captain Ogden was slightly incredulous when I depicted the wonders of Colonel Childs’s generosity. So I skilfully led out the good gentleman for inspection, and he walked to the train with us. He offered me Confederate money, silver, and gold; and finally offered to buy our cotton and pay us now in gold. Of course, I laughed at his overflowing bounty, and accepted nothing; but I begged him to come down to Chester or Camden and buy our cotton of General Chesnut there.

On the train after leaving Lincolnton, as Captain Ogden is a refugee, has had no means of communicating with his home since New Orleans fell, and was sure to know how refugees contrive to live, I beguiled the time acquiring information from him. “When people are without a cent, how do they live?” I asked. “I am about to enter the noble band of homeless, houseless refugees, and Confederate pay does not buy one’s shoe-strings.” To which he replied, “Sponge, sponge. Why did you not let Colonel Childs pay your bills?” “I have no bills,” said I. “We have never made bills anywhere, not even at home, where they would trust us, and nobody would trust me in Lincolnton.” “Why did you not borrow his money? General Chesnut could pay him at his leisure?” “I am by no means sure General Chesnut will ever again have any money,” said I.