CHAPTER XLII.
Memphis—Out from the Reconstructed.
Of the trip between Jackson, Mississippi, and Grand Junction, Tennessee, I only remember a dismal night of thumpings over broken rails, and lurches and contortions of the cars, as if we were really trying in our motion to imitate the course of the rails the Yankee raiders had twisted. At one point all were waked up, hurried out into the mud of a forlorn little village, and informed that, some way or another, they must get over the burnt bridge to the train half a mile on the other side. Clambering over cotton bales into the cars of the new train, we found everybody who preceded us shivering with cold. The freight cars attached to the train were loaded with cotton, it seemed; and orders had been given to extinguish all fires in the passenger cars, lest the sparks might set fire to it!
Finally, an hour or two before daybreak, the conductor discharged his passengers in the mud at Grand Junction, much as a cartman would shoot out his load of rubbish. In the darkness no depot was to be seen; and, at any rate, every passenger was compelled to watch his baggage, as there was nobody to attend to it. Fortunately some one had matches. A fire was soon started on the ground, and the railroad company’s pile of lumber was made to furnish fuel. Seated around that fire on their trunks, in the cold night air, and half-blinded by the smoke, were ladies who, before the war, had been among the wealthiest and haughtiest in the South. Some of them were going to Texas to hide their poverty. It was nearly three hours before the train for Memphis took us up.
Memphis, in June, was full of returning Rebel soldiers. Now it was full of Rebel business men, and the city, like New Orleans, had passed completely over to the control of the great majority of its citizens, who throughout the war hoped and labored for the success of the rebellion. It was rather to their credit that they made no concealment of their sympathies. They were outspoken in denunciation of Governor Brownlow, and the entire State Government, which Mr. Johnson himself had set in motion. The “Radicals of the North” were as odious as in the old days of the war; and the tone of the newspapers was as fierce as when they were wandering from point to point in front of the steadily advancing National armies.
Next to New Orleans, Memphis seemed to be doing the heaviest business of any Southern city. The streets were filled with drays, and the levee was crowded with freight.
General Frank Blair, who engaged in cotton planting on the opposite side of the river, was in town. Many other adventurous cotton planters from the North made Memphis their headquarters. None seemed to suffer the slightest inconvenience from any unfriendly disposition on the part of the people. On the contrary all Northern men, bringing capital to stock and conduct these great plantations which had hitherto made the prosperity of Memphis, seemed to be sure of a fervid welcome.
Between Corinth and Stevenson lies as beautiful a country as the South can anywhere show. Huntsville, Decatur, Tuscumbia, and Florence are the principal towns. Around them stretches a lovely valley, which constitutes the chief charm of Northern Alabama. Far enough South for the profitable cultivation of cotton, it is still adapted to all the Northern grains. The people have generally more education and refinement than in other parts of the State; their public improvements are better, and their country is every way more attractive. It is not surprising that lands here are commanding prices nearly as high as in Central New York or Ohio. The people are rarely compelled to sell; and there is a strong prejudice against either Yankees or Tories, (that is, Southerners who went against their State.) Western men seem to be more welcome.
After a weary day’s riding through the wild mountainous country along the Upper Tennessee, our train shot in beneath the great overhanging cliff, and approached Chattanooga at nightfall. Fires had been raging through the pine forests.