Life in Dixie during the War, 1861-1862-1863-1864-1865

So far as is known, the only part of the former church furnishings that ever re-appeared was the melodeon (or “seraphine”), which Rosella Stone, a negro woman, had preserved. She must have done this for the sake of Miss Marian Stone, who had formerly played it in church, and who, if I remember aright, played it again after the resumption of church services.

In the winter of 1865 and 1866, there was preaching for a short while by the Rev. Theodore Smith. Then followed Rev. J. D. Burkhead, and under his preaching, in the early spring, there occurred a protracted meeting, at which many persons were added to the church.

Gladly would I recall, if I could, the preachers who supplied the Methodist church at that time, but my memory fails me as to the exact details. I believe, however, that the Rev. William Henry Clarke, referred to in a preceding sketch, was the first Methodist minister who preached there after the war; and that Rev. Mr. Morgan and Rev. William A. Dodge were the first ministers in charge appointed by Conference.

In ante-bellum times, on many of the large plantations, special services were held for the negroes – some planters paying a regular salary for this purpose. In pious families, members of the household often taught the slaves, especially the house servants, the Bible and Catechism. So far as I can recollect, certain seats were assigned to them in all churches at all services, besides the special services usually held for them on Sabbath afternoons.

After the war, the negroes of Decatur and surrounding country were organized into a Sabbath-school at the Presbyterian Church, They came in large numbers, and were faithfully taught by the people of Decatur. To the kind courtesy of Mr. George A. Ramspeck I am indebted for the loan of the Minute-book of this school, which seems to have been organized in 1867. The pastor was the Superintendent. The Vice-Superintendent was Mr. Samuel K. Winn, the Treasurer, Mr. George A. Ramspeck, and the Librarian, Mr. Moses S. Brown. But after several months the negroes went off to themselves, and eventually founded the African Methodist Episcopal Church. They have also a Baptist Church. In these undertakings they were assisted by the people of the village.

CHAPTER XXIX.
POSTAL AFFAIRS

The Postmaster, Hiram J. Williams – A life that was a reality, but reads like a romance

The north side of the court-house square at Decatur is intersected by a public road leading to North Decatur, Silver Lake, the Chattahoochee River, and points beyond. On the eastern corner of this intersection stands the well-known Bradbury House. The house itself is an unsightly object, being almost untenable through age and neglect, but occupying a most desirable location. From its site lovely views of the surrounding country may be obtained, as the eye sweeps the circle of the horizon which is bounded on the north by distant hills, and on the northwest by the blue peaks of the Kennesaw. In the west is a near-by plateau, crowned with oaks and pines, beautiful in the morning when covered with a filmy mantle of faint purple mist – gorgeous at evening, when overhung by sunset clouds.

In 1860 the lower part of the Bradbury House was occupied as a store and postoffice, the proprietor and postmaster being Mr. William Bradbury. His assistant was Hiram J. Williams, then a lad of fourteen years. When Mr. Bradbury enlisted in the DeKalb Light Infantry in 1861, Hiram became in reality the postmaster. At that early age he manifested the same traits which have characterized him to this day – unwearied attention to the business before him, unvarying courtesy, beautiful modesty, calm unbroken serenity of manner, and an unswerving honesty.

During the four years of the war, the mail received and sent out from Decatur was enormous in its quantity, and all the while it was handled by this youth; for when, in 1862, Mr. Bradbury resigned and Mr. John N. Pate was appointed postmaster in his place, Hiram Williams was retained in the office, Mr. Pate simply bringing over the mail from the depot. So great was the quantity of mail matter that sometimes Hiram had to call to his assistance his young friend, John Bowie.

During those war years, there were but few postoffices in DeKalb County, and the people for miles around had their mail sent to Decatur. The soldiers, unless writing to young ladies, rarely ever paid postage on their letters, but left it to be done by their home folks. This unpaid postage had to be collected and kept account of. Often a poor wife or mother, after trudging weary miles to the postoffice, would receive a letter from husband or son and, unwilling to return without answering it, would request Hiram to answer it for her, which he always did. With every package of letters sent out, a way-bill had to go, showing the number of letters, how many were prepaid, how many unpaid, etc, etc. Imagine the work this entailed! Imagine the great responsibility! Imagine the youth who bore this labor and responsibility for four years! Small of stature, quiet in manner, but with an undaunted spirit looking out from his steady but softly bright brown eyes. How brave he must have been, and how his good widowed mother and only sister must have doted on him.

In July, 1864, when the booming of the Federal guns is heard from the banks of the Chattahoochee, the postoffice is closed and for several months thereafter letters, if sent for at all, are sent by hand.

Our brave little postmaster now hies him away to Augusta, and there acts as mailing clerk for “The Constitutionalist,” and, after the surrender, for “The Evening Transcript.” In 1866 he returns to Decatur and engages in mercantile business with Willard and McKoy, but soon after opens a store of his own.

Early in 1867, Mr. Williams, now arrived at the age of twenty-one, is appointed postmaster at Decatur by Samuel W. Randall, postmaster general of the United States Government. In 1869 Mr. Williams was elected clerk of the Superior Court of DeKalb County, still retaining the office of postmaster, but having an assistant in each position.

In 1871, he was re-elected clerk of the court, and again in 1873. All this time he continued to be postmaster, and was re-commissioned by Postmaster General Jewell in 1875, holding the office up to 1880.

Mr. Williams continued to be Clerk of the Superior Court until 1884, when Mr. Robert Russell, a Confederate veteran, was elected. Mr. Williams then returned for a while to mercantile pursuits. But while pursuing the even tenor of his way, was called to a responsible position in Atlanta (which he still holds) with the G. W. Scott Manufacturing Company, now known as the Southern Fertilizer Company.

From 1870 to 1886, Mr. Williams was a special correspondent of “The Atlanta Constitution,” thus preserving the history of Decatur and of DeKalb county during that period.

So much for a business career of remarkable success. But is this all? What of the higher and nobler life? This has not been neglected. In 1866 Mr. Williams united with the Decatur Presbyterian church. In 1868 he was appointed Librarian of the Sabbath school, an office he still holds. In 1894 he was elected to the office of Deacon, and also appointed church Treasurer. When the Agnes Scott Institute, for girls, was founded in 1891, he was made Secretary and Treasurer.

Mr. Williams has been twice married – in his early manhood to Miss Jennie Hughes, who lived but a short while. His present wife was Miss Belle Steward, who has been a true help-meet. They have a lovely and hospitable home on Sycamore street, where her sweet face, ever beaming with cheerfulness and loving kindness and sympathy for all, must be to him as a guiding star to lead and bless him with its light, as he returns at evening from the city and its business cares and toils, to the rest and peace of home.

If any one should say that this is not strictly a war sketch, I would reply, “no, but who could resist following up at least the salient points of such a life – a life that exemplifies the main elements of success.” Dear young readers, have you not seen what they are: – perseverance, fidelity to trusts reposed, punctuality, courtesy, honesty and conscientiousness – in other words, adherence to right principles and to Christian duty.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE TRAGIC DEATH OF SALLIE DURHAM

The closing days of the war – A sketch of the Durham family – The death of Sallie

On the 9th of April, 1865, at Appomattox Court House, Lee had surrendered his army of twenty-five thousand men to Grant with his four-fold forces. One after another of the Confederate Generals had been forced to yield to superior numbers, and by the last of May the war was over.

“The North had at the beginning of the strife a population of twenty-two millions; the South had ten millions, four millions of whom were slaves. The North had enlisted during the war two million six hundred thousand troops – the South a little more than six hundred thousand. Now the North had a million men to send home – the South but one hundred and fifty thousand.”

Jefferson Davis had been captured, and imprisoned in Fortress Monroe. Our worn and ragged soldiers had returned to a devastated country. Our entire people were to begin life over again in the midst of poverty, uncertainty, and under the watchful eye of the conqueror. The war was over, but military rule was not.

It was in these transition days, between the fall of “the Lost Cause” and the more stirring events of “Reconstruction,” that there occurred in our little village a most appalling tragedy. To understand it fully, my readers should know something of the young lady’s family. Let us pause here and take a backward glance.

About a hundred years ago Lindsey Durham, a Georgia boy of English descent, graduated from a Philadelphia Medical College and located in Clarke county, in his native State. Drugs were expensive, as they could not be obtained nearer than Savannah, Charleston or New York. Being surrounded by frontiersmen and Indians, he could but notice the efficacy of the native barks and roots used by them as medicines. He was thus led to adopt to a large extent the theories of the Botanic School. He began to cultivate his own medicinal plants, and to prosecute with much zeal his botanical studies and researches. He even went to Europe and procured seeds and plants of medicinal value, until finally his garden of medicinal herbs and plants contained thirteen acres. So great was his fame that patients began to come to him from adjoining States, and he had to build cottages on his plantation in order to entertain them. His marvellous success brought to him ample compensation. He became a millionaire, and lived in all the old-time splendor. Once, by a loan of money, he rescued the Athens bank from utter failure.

Dr. Lindsey Durham left several sons, all of whom were physicians. The eldest of these, and the most eminent, was Dr. William W. Durham, who was born on his father’s plantation in Clarke county, in 1823. After a collegiate course at Mercer University, he graduated from the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia, taking high honors, spending five years in the hospital there, and perfecting himself in surgery. This talented gentleman married Miss Sarah Lowe, of Clarke county, and, four years after her death, he married Mrs. Georgia A. Allen, whose maiden name was Wood, and who was a native of Franklin, Georgia.

With the children of his first marriage and their fair young step-mother, Dr. Durham came to Decatur in 1859. Well do I remember the children; two handsome sons, John and William – two pretty brown-eyed girls, Sarah and Catherine. It is needless to say that a large practice awaited the skillful physician, whose eclectic methods were then comparatively new.

William, the eldest son, went into the Confederate service at the age of sixteen, remaining the entire four years, suffering severely at the siege of Vicksburg, fighting valiantly at the Battle of Atlanta, and coming out of the war the shadow of his former self, with nothing but an old army mule and one silver dollar.

Sarah Durham, called Sallie by her family and friends, was a lovely girl of seventeen. She was tall and graceful; bright, and full of enthusiasm; kind, loving and generous. She had just returned from her grandmother’s plantation, for her father had not sooner dared to have his daughters return, such was the insolence of the straggling Federals.

On the morning of September 1st, 1865, this dear girl arose early and noiselessly with a scheme in her kind heart. The former servants were all gone; her mother was not well, and she would surprise the household by preparing for them a nice breakfast. In fancy we see her, as she treads lightly, and chats softly with her tiny half-sister Jennie, and with a little negro girl who in some way had remained with the family.

The Durham residence, which was on Sycamore street, then stood just eastward of where Col. G. W. Scott now lives. The rear of the house faced the site where the depot had been before it was burned by the Federals, the distance being about 350 yards. Hearing an incoming train, Sallie went to the dining room window to look at the cars, as she had learned in some way that they contained Federal troops. While standing at the window resting against the sash, she was struck by a bullet fired from the train. (It was afterwards learned that the cars were filled with negro troops on their way to Savannah, who were firing off their guns in a random, reckless manner.) The ball entered the left breast of this dear young girl, ranging obliquely downward, coming out just below the waist, and lodging in the door of a safe, or cupboard, which stood on the opposite side of the room. (This old safe, with the mark of the ball, is still in the village.)

The wounded girl fell, striking her head against the dining table, but arose, and walking up a long hall she threw open the door of her father’s room, calling to him in a voice of distress. Springing from bed, he said:

“What is it, my child?”

“Oh, father,” she exclaimed, “the Yankees have killed me!”

Laying her upon a small bed in the room, her father cut away from her chest her homespun dress and made a hasty examination of the wound. Her horror-stricken mother remembers to this day that awful scene in all its details. But we will draw a veil over the grief of the smitten family, as they stood half paralyzed at this sudden calamity, and looked upon the loved one whom they were helpless to save. Mrs. Durham recalls the fact that the first person who came in was Rev. Dr. Holmes, and that throughout this great trial he and his family were very sympathetic and helpful.

Every physician in the village and city, and her father’s three brothers were summoned, but nothing could be done except to alleviate her sufferings. She could lie only on her right side, with her left arm in a sling suspended from the ceiling. Every attention was given by relatives and friends. Her grandmother Durham came and brought with her the old family trained nurse. Sallie’s schoolmates and friends were untiring in their attentions. Some names that have appeared in previous sketches, will now appear again, for they watched with anxious, loving hearts by the couch where the young sufferer lay. Tenderly let us mention their names, as we tread softly in memory’s sacred halls. Among the constant attendants at her bedside were Mrs. Martha Morgan, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Morton, Miss Laura Williams (Mrs. J. J. McKoy), Lizzie and Anna Morton, Mrs. H. H. Chivers, Dr. Jim Brown and John Hardeman. During the week that her life slowly ebbed away, there was another who ever lingered near her, a sleepless and tireless watcher, a young man of a well-known family, to whom this sweet young girl was engaged to be married.

Writes Mrs. P. W. Corr, of Hampton, Florida, (formerly Miss Lizzie Morton): “Never can I forget the dreary night when Willie Durham, Kitty Durham and Warren Morton left Decatur with Sallie’s body, which was to be buried in the old family cemetery in Clarke county. Mrs. Durham, who was in delicate health, was utterly prostrated and the doctor could not leave her.” So Dr. Charles Durham managed the funeral arrangements, chartering the car, and Sallie was buried from the old church her grandfather Lowe had built on his own plantation in Clarke county, and laid to rest in the Durham cemetery near by.

Sallie was shot on Friday at 7:30 A. M., and died the following Friday at 3:30 A. M. While she had suffered untold agony, she was conscious to the last. Throughout her illness she manifested a thoughtful consideration for the comfort of others. Especially did she show tender solicitude for her step-mother, insisting that she should not fatigue herself. While anxious to live, she said she was not afraid to die. In her closing hours she told her friends that she saw her own mother, her grandfather Durham, and her uncle Henry Durham (who had died in the Confederate service), all of whom she expected to meet in the bright beyond.

General Stephenson was in command of the Federal Post at Atlanta. He was notified of this tragedy, and sent an officer to investigate. This officer refused to take anybody’s word that Sallie had been shot by a United States soldier from the train; but, dressed in full uniform, with spur and sabre rattling upon the bare floor, he advanced to the bed where the dying girl lay, and threw back the covering “to see if she had really been shot.” This intrusion almost threw her into a spasm. This officer and the others at Atlanta promised to do all in their power to bring the guilty party to justice, but nothing ever came of the promise, so far as we know.

As a singular coincidence, as well as an illustration of the lovely character of Sallie, I will relate a brief incident given by the gifted pen already quoted from: “One of the most vivid pictures of the past in my memory is that of Sallie Durham emptying her pail of blackberries into the hands of Federal prisoners on a train that had just stopped for a moment at Decatur, in 1863. We had all been gathering berries at Moss’s Hill, and stopped on our way home for the train to pass.”

Dr. W. W. Durham lived for nearly twenty years after Sallie’s death. During the war he had enlisted as a soldier, but was commissioned by Dr. George S. Blackie, a Medical Director in the Western Division of the Confederate Army, to the position of Inspector of Medicines for the Fifth Depot. This position was given him because of his remarkable botanical knowledge and power of identifying medicines. After the war he was prominent in the reorganization of the Georgia Medical Eclectic College, but refused to take a professorship on account of an almost overwhelming practice. He was a quiet, earnest, thoughtful man; and highly sympathetic and benevolent in his disposition. His widow, Mrs. Georgia A. Durham, and their daughter, Mrs. Jennie Findley, still reside in Decatur.

Dr. W. M. Durham is a successful physician in Atlanta. He holds a professorship in the Georgia Eclectic Medical College, and edits the Georgia Eclectic Medical Journal. Kitty is Mrs. W. P. Smith, of Maxey’s; and John L. Durham is a physician with a large practice, and a large family, living at Woodville, Georgia.

The Durham residence still stands in Decatur, though not upon the same spot. For years a great stain of blood remained upon the floor, as a grim and silent reminder of this most awful tragedy which so closely followed the horrible and cruel war.

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE DEATH OF MELVILLE CLARK

The lamented death of Miss Durham was not the only one in our community to be traced to the results of the war.

The period of reconstruction, forcing upon the Southern states the obnoxious Fourteenth Amendment, so humiliating and so unjust, especially at that time, had intensified the prejudices of the negroes against the white people – prejudices already sufficiently aroused by previous abolition teachings and the results of the war.

Several times in this little volume mention has been made of Rev. William Henry Clarke, the staunch patriot and well known Methodist preacher. At this period he had become a resident of Decatur. His son, Melville Clarke, a noble, promising boy, while attempting to rescue a small white child from the abuse of an overgrown negro youth, received wounds from which he died. Memory recalls many other instances of like character, perpetrated at this period, the most disgraceful in the annals of American history.

The subjoined resolutions, passed by the Methodist Sabbath school of which Melville was a beloved scholar, attest the many good traits of his character, and the affection accorded him in the community:

“The committee appointed to draft resolutions on the death of Melville Clarke, one of our scholars, beg leave to submit the following:

“In the wise dispensation of Him that doeth all things well, we are called to pay the last tribute to departed worth. Melville Clark is no more. The vacant seat says he is no more. The hushed voice says he is no more. Yes, the impressive, solemn silence of this moment whispers that another light which shone brightly the brief space allotted it here has flickered out. The body which encased the spirit of the noble Christian boy has been laid away in the silence of the grave, and his spirit, as we trust, escorted by a convoy of angels, has gone to that bright and better world above.

“Therefore, Resolved, That as we gather around the new-made grave and drop a sympathetic tear (which speaks more eloquently than any words mortal lips can utter), we deeply feel the loss of one so full of promise and usefulness – that noble spirit just bursting into manhood, with a mind that would grasp in a moment things that men have passed through life and never comprehended – and a heart lit up with the love of God, and drawn out by the tenderest cords of affection to do little acts of kindness. Language fails us to give utterance to the anguish we feel at sustaining so great a loss. But he has gone. No more shall we hang upon the eloquence of his gentle, kind words, or see that face which was so often lit up with an expressive sweetness that we could but recognize as the reflex of the lamb-like Christian spirit that reigned within. He has gone, and as we turn from the sad, solemn scene in that faith which ‘hopeth all things, believeth all things, endureth all things,’ we can but exclaim: ‘The Lord gave – the Lord hath taken away – blessed be the name of the Lord!’

“Resolved, That in the death of one of our members, so young, we recognize an admonition that the young, as well as the old, are swiftly passing away, and that we should pause and reflect seriously upon this important subject.

“Resolved, That as a school, our warmest sympathy and condolence be tendered to the family of our dear deceased friend in this, their great bereavement, and that a copy of these resolutions be furnished them.”

August 30th, 1868.