“When the sad, chilly winds of December
Stole my flowers, my companions, from me.”
That was one of his mournful favorites. And you heard the jingle of spurs in his rollicking:
“If you want a good time,
Jine the cavalry,
Bully boys, hey!”
We called for “Old Joe Hooker, won’t you Come Out of the Wilderness?” and “O Johnny Booker, help this Nigger!” and “O Lord, Ladies, don’t you mind Stephen!” and “Sweet Evelina,” and—oh! I can’t remember them all, but if you choose to read Esten Cooke, he will tell you all about Sweeny’s songs and banjo. Stuart sang “The Dew is on the Blossom” and “The Bugles sang Truce.” He made Sweeny give, twice over, “Sweet Nellie is by my Side,” and sat himself down beside me, and tried to tease Dan because he sat at table with me every day and Dan couldn’t. In spite of everything I was very happy in those old days at the Bradfords’! I was not yet out of my teens, you know; so I hope I was not very much to blame because I was always ready for a romp across that lawn at Mr. Bradford’s with the commander-in-chief of the Southern cavalry. His was the gentlest, merriest, sweetest-tempered soul I ever knew. He was always ready to sympathize with me, to tease me, and to help me. Whenever he teased me out of conceit with myself or him, he always would put me in a good humor by saying nice things about Dan, or sending a courier after him.
He had an idea that I was very plucky, and in after days when I was ready to show the white feather, Dan would shame me by asking, “What would General Stuart say?”
Mr. Bradford and his wife, “Aunt Sally,” were characters. Mr. Bradford was a very quiet, peaceable man; Aunt Sally was strong-minded, and had a tongue and mind of her own. Mr. Bradford had a good deal of property and stayed out of the army to take care of it. I think Aunt Sally made him stay out of the war for this reason, but she made home about as hot for him as the field would have been. I can’t think he stayed at home to keep out of war, for he was in war all the time. Aunt Sally continually twitted him with staying at home, although she made him do it. She was always sure to do this when the table was filled with Confederate officers.
“The place for a man,” she would say, “is on the field. Just give me the chance to fight! Just give me the chance to fight, and see where I’ll be!”
And General Stuart would convulse me by whispering: “I don’t think she needs a chance to fight, do you?”
Sometimes when Aunt Sally’s harangue would begin the general would whisper, “Aunt Sally’s getting herself in battle array,” or “The batteries have limbered up,” or “Aunt Sally’s scaled the breastworks,” and Mr. Bradford’s meek and inoffensive face would make the situation funnier. He would mildly help the boarders to the dish in front of him and endeavor feebly to turn the conversation into a peaceful and safe direction, though this never had the slightest effect upon his belligerent wife.
One day—it was about the time of Stuart’s historical grand review—Mr. Bradford invited all the cavalry generals whose forces were stationed around us to dine with the commander-in-chief of the cavalry. He would never have dared to do this if Aunt Sally had been at home, but Aunt Sally at this auspicious moment was in Washington, where we all hoped the fortunes of war and shopping would keep her indefinitely. Her niece, Miss Morse, and I sat down, the only ladies present, at a table with eighteen Confederate generals. Miss Molly and I were at first a trifle embarrassed at being the only ladies, but they were all refined and well-bred, and soon put us at our ease. General Wade Hampton led me in to dinner, and I sat between him and General Ramseur. General Ramseur was young and exceedingly handsome, and a paralyzed arm which was folded across his breast made him all the more attractive.