The planters, who owned and cultivated large estates on the river, built summer residences on the higher lands of the same, in order to escape the malaria and chills, produced by the miasma arising from the marshes exposed to the sun and night air at low tide during the heated term, which the first killing frost in the fall would dispel and render the river residents healthy and comfortable when they would all return to their estates. I have never in my travels seen a more productive country in the State than the famous low grounds bordering the Pamunkey river, beginning about Hanover Town and continuing down that stream to the celebrated “White House” plantation in New Kent County, which estate originally belonged to General Custis, who was the first husband of Martha Washington (nee Dandridge).
Dr. William Macon, my brother, about this time came into possession of the Mount Prospect plantation in New Kent County, on the Pamunkey River, left to him by our grandfather, Colonel William Hartwell Macon, it being then one of the finest farms on the river; it adjoined the famous White House aforementioned, which latter plantation was inherited and occupied later by General William H. Fitzhugh Lee, son of the famous General Robert E. Lee, of Confederate fame.
The York River railroad passed through a portion of the “Mt. Prospect farm.” A noted feature of the place was its very large and beautiful garden, almost every flower and plant known to Eastern Virginia florists was to be found there, and considerable expense had been made to render it a veritable Garden of Eden; and then, alas! when the great strife began between the North and the South, and our beloved old State became the battleground of the contending hosts of soldiers of both sides, and the Federal army, under General McClellan, advanced up the peninsula from Fort Monroe the farm became the camping ground, and his cavalry was picketed in that lovely spot, amid the almost priceless roses and violets, and needless to add that when those horsemen left it was a pitiable scene of “horrid war’s” desolating effects, as hardly a trace of its former beauty and vision of refinement remained.
A gentleman, Colonel Grandison Crump, taught school near the place, and I was made a scholar of his; it was quite like that of Count Larry’s, except that the Colonel had no girls in his school. He sat is the same kind of armchair, and made and trimmed quill pens in the very same way. He was a most excellent teacher and I fairly buckled down to hard study, and as a consequence learned more than ever before, or indeed afterwards, at school. Our teacher was not a young man, as he was near sixty years of age, and was deeply enamored with a certain beautiful girl living in Charles City County adjoining; a Miss Maria Jerdone was the fortunate one, a most attractive girl, and quite young enough to be his daughter, but which did not prevent the old Colonel from loving her with all the ardor of youth. He was then living in the family of Mr. Braxton Garlick at “Waterloo” plantation, on the Pamunkey, which gentleman was one of the most hospitable men that ever lived, and who joked with the Colonel about his attentions to the young lady, but which did not dampen his ardor towards her, though he did not gain his suit, as she afterwards married a Mr. Pettus, an A. M. of the University of Virginia, who taught, and was the principal of a female academy in Tennessee; they made a very handsome bridal couple, but she did not long survive the wedding, and Mr. Pettus married, as his second wife, a Miss Turner, and removed to Richmond, Va., where he had the misfortune to lose his second wife by death.
About this date I, who had grown to be a good-sized boy, remember well going down to New Kent Courthouse to see the cavalry troop with their new and very showy uniforms of light blue cloth with silver trimmings and metal helmet, with white plumes. This old company, one of the oldest in the State, was then officered as follows: Captain, Braxton Garlick; first lieutenant, George T. Brumley, with Southey Savage as orderly sergeant. On this occasion, after the commanding officer had put the troopers through a few drilling paces, all of them, officers and private soldiers, with one accord repaired to the tavern bar room and there regaled themselves with several fine juleps each; this treat had been set up by Captain Garlick, and he expected each man to do his duty in this valiant attack upon the enemy’s fort, and truly was he not disappointed therein, although it was one of the hottest days I ever felt in the month of May.
Not far from my brother’s residence, where I was then living, lived a man named Tip Rabineau, a unique character, his ways and dress were both similar to that of the person described as Dominie Sampson in Sir Walter Scott’s novel “Guy Mannering.” Tip was about six feet and two inches in height; he wore his pants too short and coat sleeves not long enough to cover his big wrists, and yet he had an accomplishment which gave him much distinction in the neighborhood as being one of the most successful hunters to be found anywhere around, ranking as one of the best shots in Hanover County. He used always a single-barreled shot-gun that measured about six feet in length and carried powder in a small round gourd, and the shot in a canvass shot-bag; for loading this muzzle-loader he used newspaper for wadding; the bore of this weapon was but little larger than a ladies’ thimble, but with this primitive outfit he brought down a bird every time he fired at one. What finally became of Rabineau I know not since I lost sight of him.
Colonel Frank G. Ruffin, just before the beginning of the war, at my brother’s invitation, came down to Mount Prospect, our home then, for the purpose of lecturing on agriculture to the farmers at New Kent Courthouse, on a court day, where a large crowd had assembled to hear him, and although whether theoretical or scientific farming had then attained the high degree it now enjoys is a matter of much doubt, yet he imparted to his listeners in a very pleasing and instructive manner, many valuable ideas on the subject of the new way of tilling “old mother earth”; how poor, thin soil could be made to yield as much as the richest Pamunkey low grounds under his advanced system of cultivation. Of course there were some present who believed the Colonel, and others who did not fully accept his theories, for as a matter of fact, he was considered one of the least practical of the prominent farmers in the State, but one of the best theoretical ones. We passed a very pleasant day at the courthouse and I enjoyed, on our return home, as a boy, great pleasure and instruction from his most interesting and amusing conversation. Ah, indeed! was those the flush times in the old Commonwealth, the like of which will never again be known.
At about the period I am writing the York River railroad was being built from Richmond in an easterly direction about forty miles to West Point, in King William County, at the head of York River, and the junction of two rivers, the Pamunkey and the Mattaponi. The young men, the civil engineers employed about the surveying and construction of this work frequently visited “Mount Prospect,” it being convenient to the camp, and we all enjoyed their society very much indeed, they being polished gentlemen, whose presence was an agreeable addition to any company; among them I can recall the names of Major E. T. D. Myers, General J. M. St. John, Colonel Jno. G. Clarke, Colonel Henry T. Douglass and others whose names I fail to remember now, but all were then young, intelligent men, each of whom afterwards attained important military positions in the Confederate service during the war which soon followed their railroad building on the peninsula. Colonel Clarke, above mentioned, subsequently married my sister, Lucy Selden.
The majority of them have now passed from this life on earth to join those on the “other side of the river,” though their names and deeds are revered by their survivors. No State, nor country ever produced a braver or more accomplished group of heroes than they were.
Well, after attending Colonel Crumps’ school for three years, when he closed for the summer vacation I bid farewell to his excellent tutorship. There were many quite pleasant associations connected with my school days there; I was considered one of his best boys; I packed up my few belongings there and returned to Auburn, my mother’s home. My respected father died in the year 1852, and my mother then carried on the farming operations under the supervision of our servant Israel as her head man and overseer, who was one of the most efficient and faithful negroes I ever knew, performing his duties fully and satisfactorily to his mistress as manager of the hands.