After the War: A Southern Tour. May 1, 1865 to May 1, 1866Reid, Whitelaw
History
After the War: A Southern Tour. May 1, 1865 to May 1, 1866
Reid, Whitelaw
Plantation life; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877); Southern States -- Description and travel
Whoever goes to Savannah must see the city cemetery. There is nothing
else to show; so we all made the most of what there was, and drove
heroically through the sand to Bunoaventua. From a street of well-built
frame houses we plunged square off into the squalid country. Elegant
suburbs and fine country residences seem a thing unknown. The shell road
was once the pride of Savannah, but its glory, too, was departed; and
our carriage wheels powdered us with sand, till, chameleon like, we had
taken the hue of our surroundings, and seemed clad in Confederate gray.
The few houses to be seen were forlorn-looking shanties, belonging to
the poor white trash, with rotten steps and doors awry, and foul
passages and oozy back yards. Here and there we met a creaking cart,
drawn by an ox or a broken-down horse, laden with rickety pine
furniture, and guided by the lank, lantern-jawed, stubby-bearded,
long-haired owner. He was “toting” his goods in from some house which
Sherman’s “bummers” had burned or plundered. If his “woman” trudged on
foot behind him, be sure she assuaged the fatigues of the journey with
great quids of tobacco and profuse expectoration; while the ragged,
frowzy children were kept busy with the vagaries of the cow. The Yankee
soldiers “had taken his corn, and spiled his crop, and he’d heern that
the Government was a givin’ out rations in Savannah.”
But our drivers presently left the main road, for one which led through
sandy barrens, covered with a stunted undergrowth, and seemed to be
better in that the sand was a little firmer. Here and there a brilliant
flower enlivened the barren scene; but the expected profusion of glowing
colors we had all been led to look for about Savannah was wanting. At
last, after a ride, which, in the melting sun and abounding sand,
entitled one to a sight of something beautiful, we reached a rustic
gate, and decayed lodge by its side; and, passing through, were at once
in a scene for the possession of which New York might well offer a large
fraction of what she has expended on her Central Park.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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