The Story of My Life

Emma Juliette Juhan

            I was born, I was told, in the Town of Milledgeville, Georgia, soon after it became the Capital of the State.

            Before that time it has rejoiced in the classical name of “Dogsboro”, being the abode of great numbers of dogs, of all kinds, sizes, and colors.  But before my arrival it had dropped that title as not in keeping with its honorable position as Capital of the State of Georgia.  They tell me I was a very weak, sickly, tiny, little babe, expected to pass away any day.  But from the time I can first remember myself, I was as broad as I was long, with a face like a full moon.  I don’t recall the hosts of dogs that gave Milledgeville its first name, but my earliest recollection is of a little mite of a curly Fice-dog, white as snow, I thought, that was my particular property.  It was kept washed and combed till it looked like a fluffy ball.  It had a pink nose and black eyes, and wore blue ribbons in its ears and around its neck.  My sister Mary, my oldest sister, whose idol I was, made it her special work to keep Juju, as he was named, immaculately clean, and decorated.  He was my dearest treasure, and inseparable companion.  But alas, he was the cause of my first great grief.  We had gone out for a walk one afternoon, Mary, Ann, and myself, with the nurse, a half grown Negro girl, I, as usual leading my little dog by a blue ribbon, when all at once it was snatched from my hand.  With a scream I looked back the others also, and saw a tall boy with Juju in his arms, running as fast as his long legs could carry him, and turning a corner, was soon out of our sight.  The nurse and my sister Mary started in pursuit as soon as they saw him, but as he was so far ahead and had turned a corner, when they got there he was no where to be seen.  I was perfectly inconsolable, wouldn’t walk another step, and had to be carried home.  My Father tried in vain to comfort me, saying Juju would get away and come home in the morning.  I cried myself sick and in the morning had a hot fever which lasted several days.  My Father offered a liberal reward for the dog, but he was never seen again.  This was my first recollection, and it was one of sorrow which I suppose left its impression on my disposition in which there was ever a shade of sadness even in my brightest hours.  I was then not quite three years old.  My next earliest recollection is of being awakened by my Father in the middle of the night, wrapped up and, along with my sisters, taken out on the front piazza, to see something pretty, he said.  It was indeed beautiful.  It was “The Falling Stars” as it was called, in October, 1833.  The whole atmosphere was aglow, apparently, with a most brilliant display of fire works.  Many were terrified thinking everything would soon be in a blaze, and some were screaming, some on their knees praying, some singing hallelujahs.  The Negros were wild with terror.  As our Father said no harm would come from it, and as I was in his arms, I was not frightened, but my sisters being older were more excited and clung to his hand in fright.  The beautiful display was soon over and we were soon fast asleep while nature moved on in her regular order, obedient to the laws of the great Architect of the Universe.  Though so young, I never forgot the magnificent display of that night.  I was three years old the 28^th of that month.  I remember the looks and the internal arrangement of the house in which we were living then, and the bed in which I slept with my father.  It was very large with immense posts, especially the head posts, of solid mahogany and very high from the floor. A set of carpeted steps was at its side by which to get into the bed.  It was surrounded by curtains of a furniture drapery called “Chintz”, which were tied to the four posts in the day and at night drawn around the bed in winter.  This drapery was of thin material in summer, like mosquito netting.  I recall too, the care my father took of me how he would take me in his lap and feel my shoes to see if they were dry and if not, would take them off and put them before the fire to dry, take off my stockings and hang them to dry, then undress me and tell me stories till I went to sleep.  Often in the night, I would wake up and couldn’t get my eyes open, because they were stuck together.  This would frighten me and I would call him, and without any complaint he would light the candle and bathe my eyes with hot water from the little kettle he always kept setting in the chimney near the fire he kept covered up.  Or I would waken so croupy I couldn’t speak, and he would get up and work with me by the hour till I was relieved.  I had no mother for she was in the Infirmary under treatment, so my Father had to be Mother too.

            One of the earliest recollections I have is of the partial burning of the State Houses in Milledgeville.  It was during the exciting times of Nullification, in our National History, that the Capital Building took fire.  We children and the servants were at the fence looking at it or rather we were on the fence, the housekeeper was holding me on the gate.  Our Father held a position in the State Government and his office was in the Capital Building, and my sisters were greatly alarmed about him.  I was too young to enter into their feelings, but was excited about the fire, as the whole Town was; all the bells were ringing and everybody seemed rushing to and fro.  Just then a gentleman approached and stopped to admire the three little curly headed girls.  Some boys passing cried out “Hurrah for Nullification”, others yelled “Hurrah for the Union”, to which the gentleman responded with a “Hurrah for Jackson”, then patting the eldest on the head, he said “What are you my little girl”, to which she responded, “I am a Union Man”.  “That is right”, said he, “you shall have this big apple for that, and goodbye”, putting the apple in her hand, as he walked off.  We children thought it the biggest and the reddest apple we had every seen, and my two sisters said they would keep it till Father came, at which I began to cry, but sister Mary hugged me and said I should give it to Father my own self, which at once satisfied me.  She could always quiet me when no one else could.  She had taught me by letters by the time I was three years old, and at four, I could read as well as most children of seven, and was very fond of reading. There were no nice reading books then for children as there are now, and the reading lessons were dry and difficult.

            When sister Mary was ten years old and sister Ann seven and I was four, Mrs. Fitzgerald, an old lady who was a particular friend of my mother, had known her mother before her, came to see my Father and proposed to take my two sisters into her “Home School, for girls, and small boys”, at Scottsboro, four miles out from Town.  She proposed to take me, free of charge, and care for me as her own child, and thus we would not have to be separated.  He was to pay, of course, for the two eldest.  Father hated to give up his children, but he felt it was best, and he consented provided he could bring us home on Friday afternoons.  Sister Mary and   Sister Ann had been attending a primary school and were bright children.  Sister Mary had also begun the study of music.  It was arranged that she would come for us in her carriage the next Monday.

Chapter II

            Mrs. Fitzgerald was from Augusta, Georgia, and had been an intimate friend of my Grandfather’s family and a pupil of Aunt Eleanor Hornby when she first opened school there.  She was a lady of refinement, having moved in the best society of Augusta where her father was a prominent and wealthy citizen.  She had been twice married, and both of her husbands turned out to be worthless spendthrifts running through with all of their own property and hers too.  She did not do any of the teaching herself, but employed the Teachers, who were mostly from the North.

            I have a very distinct recollection of the house and grounds as I first saw them.  It was a long building, a story and a half high, which was the usual style of houses in that section to which rooms had been added on at different times, with no regard to architectural symmetry, but it was nevertheless very comfortable and quite roomy.  The grounds were large and covered with velvety grace, and shaded with grand old trees of different kinds. Flowers too grew in abundance around the house and vines of many varieties festooned its numerous piazzas which gave a sweet home like look to the place. While we were there, Mrs. Fitzgerald had another large, two storied building erected for recitation and music rooms.  Her school was very flourishing, being considered the best in that section of the country.  We had been there about four months when their winter examination was held.  I was in a large spelling class of about thirty.  Some of the girls were over fifteen, I was a little over four.  A word was given to the scholar at the head, who missed it, it was passed on and on till it came to me and I gave it correctly.  I remember the burst of applause as the teacher placed me at the head standing me on a chair, so I could be seen.  I kept my place during the whole time.  After the spelling was over, I was mounted on a table to sing.  It was a little humorous ditty which elicited rapturous applause.  My oldest Sister Mary brought down the house with her performance on the piano.  She was ten years old, and was very skillful considering her age.  “Twas a large and merry crowd that sported on that grassy lawn, when school was out for the day; and though I was but six years old when I left, being there two years, I can recall many of the games we played and the names of some of the children.  There are two painful experienced of that period that I can never forget.  The Principal, the first year was a Mr. Palmer, a tall, slab-sided down-easter from Maine.  He was very exacting and cross, and the terror of the whole school.  My Sister Mary

Was a bright child and very studious, but she had an example in arithmetic that afternoon that she could not work out.  Mr. Palmer kept her in, but Mrs. Fitzgerald requested that she be allowed to come to supper to which he yielded with a very bad grace, saying she must return immediately to the school room and remain till she worked out that example.  I had never been separated from her at night so I went into the room with her and lay down on the bench by her.  The servant girl came to get me to put me to bed but I kicked and screamed and he told her to let me alone.  Nine o’clock came and Sister Mary had not worked the example.  He scolded her and said he knew it was stubbornness on her part, and took up the ruler to whip her with it when Mrs. Fitzgerald entered asking him what was the matter.  He told her he had a stubborn scholar whom he was just about to punish.  She inquired a little into it, and found out that he had not explained the example to the child, nor tried to find out where her trouble was, but got angry because he was kept there on her account.  Mrs. Fitzgerald reproved him sharply telling him that he was not giving satisfaction and she would dismiss him as soon as that term was out.  The occurrence of that night gave me an animosity towards arithmetic which I never did get over.  The sight of an arithmetic slate and pencil would always stir my ire, and I am not fond of them yet.  My Sister was sick in bed several days with fever from the nervous strain she was subjected to that night.  Another painful experience of that school term that I recall was connected with the winter examination a few months after what I have just related.  Father had just sent all three of us new winter dresses to wear on the occasion but he was sick with a violent attack of inflammatory rheumatism and would not be able to be there.  When they were opened, I was heartbroken, for though I was a little thing, I could see that mine was greatly inferior to the others.  Sister Mary also was provoked, she couldn’t bear to see me have to wear such a common looking dress on such an occasion.  But the next day was the examination day, I cried myself to sleep and was two thirds sick the next day.  After breakfast when we went to dress for the school exercises and the dresses taken out to be put on, mine was found to be cut up in slits all around the hem, it could not be worn.  None of us knew who did it.  We slept in a small room adjoining Mrs. Fitzgerald’s so that she could have charge of me at night.  In a small room on the back piazza, also opening into Mrs. Fitzgerald’s room her waiting maid, a Negro girl of about fifteen, slept.  That girl was by bugbear, I had a perfect horror of her, for she delighted in getting me into trouble.   She came into the room while Mrs. Fitzgerald was examining the dress, who asked her if she knew anything about it, whereupon she told her mistress that she was passing the window in the afternoon, while all of the older children were in school and saw me with the dress, and I had a pair of scissors in my hand.  I was very angry at being accused of cutting the dress, though I said I was looking at it, but did not have any scissors.  Mrs. Fitzgerald came to the conclusion that I had cut the dress and I suppose I talked saucily about it, so she gave me a switching and would not let me go into the schoolroom all day, made me spend the day in her room.  A few weeks afterwards it was found out that the Negro girl cut the dress herself to get me into trouble.  One of the girls, who had been sent for the night before, to go home immediately on account of the extreme illness of her mother told Mrs. Fitzgerald after she returned that she saw the girl in our room with the dress and a pair of scissors and asked her what she was doing with it, she answered she was ripping the bastings out.  Mrs. Fitzgerald sent the girl out to do farm work after that, as she found she was not be trusted, and took a better disposed one in her place. I was glad to get rid of my persecutor.  My nice dress too was sent out after a few days.  It could not be finished on account of Father’s sickness, so the new everyday one had been sent in its place.  After the examination, Mr. Palmer, the Principal, left, and the new teacher Dr. Longfellow, arrived and took charge.  He was somewhat older than Mr. Palmer and entirely different in every respect.  He was not near so tall, in fact all the girls said he ought to be named Shortfellow.  I can remember that he had dark hair and eyes, his face was pale, and his forehead broad and high.  He was very dignified, but his manners were pleasant and there was something very attractive about him.  He was a perfect gentleman and the school was very much improved under his management.  Being the youngest child in the school, he took a great deal of notice of me in fact made quite a pet of me, said I reminded him of his own little curly headed girl.  People thought it strange that he would come so far to stay several months and not bring his family with him, but they found out that it is a very common thing with Northern people to do that way.  He required the strictest obedience to the rules of the school, but was very kind in assisting his scholars when they found their studies difficult to understand.  I recollect a rather amusing incident, in which I and another little girl, a year or two older, fell under the penalty of a broken rule.  The school was opened with the reading of the Bible and Prayer.  I was a little thing, only five years old, and it was hard for me to keep still so long.  The other little girl was as great a fidget as I was, so during the prayer we amused ourselves by crawling on our knees backwards and forwards across the room.  I suppose we made a noise for he found out what we were doing and when prayers were over, called us up and told us we were naughty little girls for behaving as we had during prayer and he would have to punish us so we would not do so again.  There was a large fireplace in the room over which was a high broad mantelpiece, in the center of which stood the clock . We thought he would whip us, but he lifted me up and set me on one corner of the mantelpiece and then put the other little culprit on the other corner, telling us to sit there till we could learn to sit still.  Strange to say neither of us cried, although there was smothered laughter all over the room at our expense.  You may be sure we sat very straight and still for it was a pretty high seat.  We did try to peep at one another around the clock, but were so afraid of falling we had to give it up.  I suppose it was not over half an hour that he kept us there but it seemed a much longer time to us.  We were thoroughly cured of misbehaving during prayers, but were as fond of our Teacher as ever, for he was as fond of us.

            Since seeing in later life the pictures of Henry W. Longfellow, the Poet, and reading a short poem of his to “The little girl with the curly head”, I have always believed our teacher and the Poet were the same man.  His pet name for me was ”Curly Head”.  Not long after this Father removed us from Mrs. Fitzgerald’s House, putting us with another family to board, though we continued in the school, that is my two sisters did; I was too young to walk so far.  I think Sister Mary must have brought about the change, for she never forgave Mrs. Fitzgerald for punishing me on account of the cutting up of that dress; she never liked Mrs. Fitzgerald again.  Sister Mary soon regretted the change for I was unhappy and cried to go back to “Grandma’s” of whom I was very fond and who was very kind to me.  She was a perfect Lady but the people we were with were very common and the children imposed on me while my sisters were away at school.  When the weather was good, I insisted on going with them though they had to carry me a part of the way.  But this change was in the providence of God, overruled for good, for it led Mrs. Fitzgerald to write to my Aunt Emma and tell her that we were greatly needing a mother’s care, and urging her to come and take us at once from the family where we were boarding.  Of course I knew nothing of this at the time, being too young to comprehend things, but I learned it afterwards.  All I knew was that Father had us to go back to Mrs. Fitzgerald and remain there till our Aunt came for us in April of 1835.  She remained there a week or two as Mrs. Fitzgerald was an old friend of the family in order to fix up our wardrobes in a little better trim than she found them.  At last the day of our departure came and Father brought a carriage to take us into town, where we were to take the stage for Augusta.  I have an indistinct recollection of our parting with Father, of his shedding tears over us, and of how Sister Mary clung to him refusing to get into the stage and had to be put in while Father went into the house, to bring the sad scene to a close.  Sister Ann wept quietly, but Sister Mary was frantic.  I was so excited and elated at being in the stage with four horses, and two drivers, and the long bright horn which one of them blew while the other cracked his whip, and we rattled away out of town, that I soon forgot to cry, but gave myself up to the enjoyment of the change of which children are so fond.  And thus we left our Father, nor did either Sister Ann or I ever see him again.  My recollection of him is very dim, nor have I ever seen any one that looked like him.  He was strikingly handsome, but with a shade of melancholy about his countenance, an abstracted air about him, as though something was wanting, as if he could not rest in the present.  Lord Byron’s portraits have always suggested my Father to my mind, and indeed they were strangely alike in cast of mind and disposition.   I recollect that he would sometimes come home and not notice us, and would look so strange that we were afraid of him.  But after a little while, he would be himself again and be as tender and affectionate as a mother.  I can never forget how loving he was to me while with him, always bringing me something nice or pretty.  His pet name for me was “Monkey”.  Not a very beautiful one, but I suppose I amused him and so he called me that.  And thus our old life closed and a new one, entirely different, opened before us.

Chapter III

            We left Milledgeville at about five o’clock in the afternoon and traveled all night and arrived in Augusta in the afternoon of the next day.  We drove at once to the residence of Mrs. Parker, the sister of Mrs. Groves, the husband of my deceased Aunt, whose daughter Ellen Groves, Aunt Emma had left there when she went to Milledgeville for us.  Her Father, Uncle Groves, we were told to call him, was there and they greeted us most cordially.  Cousin Ellen was a few months younger than Sister Mary.  She at once made a great pet of me and I fell as much in love with her.  She was a very pretty girl, full of fun, not near so intelligent as my Sister Mary, who was dignified and reserved, for a child of her age.  Sister Ann was a delicate child and very timid, but sociable after she became acquainted.  Augusta was the home of my Aunt Emma during her childhood and there were so many old friends of the family for her to visit that we remained there several weeks.  When she was ready to leave, Sister Mary was taken with fever and before she recovered, Cousin Ellen was taken, and then Sister Ann also, which kept us there some time longer.  At last all were sufficiently restored to travel so we took the stage for Columbia, South Carolina, where we spent about a week with our relative Mrs. Dr. Howe.  She was my mother’s first cousin, their mothers were sisters.  While there we visited the Institution in which my mother was being treated.  She did not know her sister nor her children though she often spoke of them.  I can now, after the lapse of sixty six years, recall her face as I saw it them.  It was a beautiful childish looking one, but very sad in expression.  Her dark hair had been cut short and clustered in little ringlets all over her had which increased the childish look of her face.  Instead of recognizing her sister, she seemed to shrink from her which, of course, made my Aunt feel very sad.  Soon after that visit, my Aunt concluded she had been absent from home long enough and bidding farewell to our kind friends and relatives, she took passage in the stage for Greenville, where we arrived as I stated in a former chapter, in July, after an absence of nearly four months.  I was certainly glad to find myself at home, for I was tired out with traveling.  There were no railroads in those days and stage traveling was very wearing out.  I will describe the reception given us by “Maum Cotta”, Aunt Emma’s favorite and faithful old servant.  She at once gained my heart by her kind yet reverential conduct towards her Mistress and her motherly greeting to us children.  One of my greatest bugbears had been an old Negro woman, belonging to Mrs. Fitzgerald, named Polly, a half witted creature of whom I stood in perfect terror, so that I was afraid of all old Negro women.  But the sight of Maum Cotta’s good natured face dispelled all my fears, and I at once trusted in her.  Nor was I mistaken in her, for if there was a true Christian in the world, that old colored woman was one.  After taking a light supper, we retired to our beds and we children certainly slept like tops.  My Aunt did not awaken us in the morning but let us sleep till nature was satisfied, and we were willing to rise.  It took us some time to get accustomed to our new home and new mode of life; especially was this the case with my sister Mary.  She had come against her will and did not intend to be pleased.  Mrs. Fitzgerald had prepared my Aunt for the trouble she knew she would have with her, but told her she would succeed in the end, if she would only be both patient and firm, for though a child with a strong will, which had been untrained, she had an affectionate heart and reason and conscience to perceive the right and be influenced by it.  It was in the middle of summer and we were not allowed to go out of doors after nine o’clock in the morning till after five in the afternoon, then she took us down the hill into the orchard for a walk.  We enjoyed the recreation, and it was indeed a beautiful spot of ground.  A limpid brook wound around the foot of the hill, turning and running in different directions through the orchard, with its banks lined with many colored flowers and shrubs and trees festooned with wild grapes of many kinds, till at last it ran out into a neighbor’s grounds and  disappeared from our view.  The orchard was a large one full of apples, peaches, plums, pears, and cherries, all in their different seasons.  Of course it was always a favorite resort for us.  By aunt was very particular in her management of children and servants and in the ordering of everything about her place;  indeed I have never met anyone who could manage her affairs with so much system and with so much ease.  Her voice was never heard in harsh rebuke and yet she demanded and received the most implicit obedience from the oldest to the youngest on the place, black and white, retaining at the same time their love and respect.  I looked up to her as to a superior being, and in later years, as I have recalled her noble, self denying devotion to us, and ‘the careful patient training she gave us, all through those years of wayward childhood, when we were incapable of appreciating her, or making any return for her sacrifices in our behalf. I have realized that she was one of those described by the Poet, in these lines,

            “A perrect woman, nobly planned

            To warn, to comfort, to command;

            And yet a spirit pure and bright,

            With something of an angel’s light.”

Solomon’s description of a virtuous, (it means a capable and discreet), woman, met with its embodiment in her.

            About two months after our arrival at Chestnut Hill, I was taken with fever, which, after a few days the Dr. pronounced to be typhus, of which there had been a few cases in the Village of Greenville, and all had terminated fatally.  The rest had all been sick in Augusta and now my time had come.  I can remember still some of the ridiculous fancies that filled my mind all the time.  For weeks and months I was helpless as a babe and remember the tender care my beloved Aunt bestowed upon me, aided by the faithful old Maum Cotta, who left her own house, and spent every night for weeks in my Aunt’s house, so as to relieve her mistress of the whole burden of nursing.  The fever which came on the first of September, did not leave me till after the first of January, when I was so weak that I couldn’t even turn my head for several days.  Those days of slow recovery were lone and tedious and I can recall with what tenderness my Aunt waited on me and did every thing she could do to amuse me and help me to bear my long imprisonment.  I remember what a relief it was to be able to sit up in a chair propped up with pillows, and allowed to have something to eat besides gruel and broth.  Several weeks passed before I could try to walk, and had to learn to do it like a baby.  But at last health and strength returned, and what a joy it was to get out once more and enjoy the beauty and freshness of returning spring.  My sickness had prevented the rest of the children from attending school, but my recovery enabled my Sister Mary and Cousin Ellen to begin again, and Sister Ann to resume her studies under Aunt Emma and it was not long before I could take up my lessons also.  My Aunt had regular hours for everything.  Our studies began at nine o’clock, before which time we took exercise out of doors, going down into the orchard, or down to the spring, to the milk house, where the milk and butter were kept in the cool branch, as it ran from the spring.  In the woods around were huckleberries, blueberries, and blackberries that ripened in the Spring and in the Fall were any quantity of chinquepens and chestnuts, hickory nuts and walnuts, and locusts, so there was something all the time to hunt for. In the first part of the afternoon, we had a certain task of sewing to do, and after that was finished we could be out of doors till sun down.  My Aunt believed an outdoor life was necessary to good health; she took a great deal of exercise herself.  She would accompany us often in our rambles over the premises. One of our chief amusements was to go down in the orchard and wake the echoes in the surrounding hills, by exercising our lungs to their fullest extent, in calling and singing.  It strengthened our voices greatly.  The place was very retired, not being on any public road, so we could make all the noise we wanted to without disturbing any one.  In the summer, we greatly enjoyed bathing in the clear waters of the brook that coursed around in the valley at the foot of the hill the house was on.  The bottom and banks were sandy and covered with pebbles of many colors and sizes.  Some of them were beautiful flint rocks, clear as crystal.  Some of the deepest places had fish in them and we often caught little strings of them, some as long as our hands, which we would take to “Maum Cotta” who was always willing to cook them for “her dear chillum”, as she called us.  In the wet, cold winter days when we could not get out of doors, we had indoor games after our tasks were done, in which Aunt Emma would join us, and an interesting book which we would read by turns while the rest sewed or knit.  My Aunt knit all our winter stockings, for it was very cold in Greenville; snow being on the ground a larger part of the winter, and bought stockings were too thin.  She always raised a little cotton for home use and kept a spinning wheel and would spin the yarn herself and have tit dyed blue and red clouded, which made very pretty stockings and very comfortable.  Dry good of all kinds cost two or three times what they do now.  Fortunately no one dresses as extravagantly then as now.

            I have mentioned before that old Maum Cotdta was very pious.  She could not read herself but would come to the house and get some of us to read the Bible and Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. 

Eliza, the house maid and seamstress, though she could read herself, was so fond of hearing others read that she would often do her own task of sewing and help us with ours to get us to read for them.  My first religious impressions came to me, while reading for them, and hearing their comments and expressions of sympathy for poor Christian in his trials.  They seemed to understand his feelings, and to have the same experience in their struggles with the Devil and their own wicked hearts.  My Aunt always had Sunday School for the Negroes who wished to come.  She taught them with questions and answers, and also committed passages of Scriptures.

            Living as far in the Country as we did, we had very little company and visited very little ourselves.  We attended the Episcopal Church and Sunday School as that was the church to which our Family on both sides belonged, and Aunt Emma had us all Christened as Father wrote he had neglected to have it done.  She also had Sister Mary and Cousin Ellen confirmed when they were about fourteen years of age.

            That fall Uncle Groves came up from Augusta and took them both down there to school.  It was my first separation from my Sister Mary whom I loved more than anybody in the world and who idolized me.  I was heart broken over it for a long tie, the house seemed deserted and I almost cried myself sick.  I could scarcely get to sleep for crying.  My Aunt sang many very pathetic songs which always worked upon my feelings, but after Sister Mary went, I would run off as far as I could get, for it seemed to me my heart would break.  One of the songs was

            “Oh! No I’ll never mention her

            Her name is never heard;

            My lips are now forbid to speak

            That once familiar word”.

The tune was very pathetic, and it went to my poor little heart with so much power that I couldn’t stand it.  That was a dreadfully long winter to me, and when spring at last came and I was told that my Sister and Cousin would return the last of May, I could scarcely contain myself for joy.  Uncle Groves brought them home at that time, but they had grown so much like young ladies in their black silk dresses that I was a little shy of them at first.  But I soon found my place in Sister Mary’s lap and when I found myself clasped in her arms in bed, I went to sleep the happiest little girl in the world.  Uncle Groves spent two weeks with us and returned to Augusta, expecting to return in October and take us all to live with him as he and Aunt Emma were to be married at that time.  The next few months glided swiftly and happily by, my dear Sister was with me and I asked for nothing more.  But as I got older, I began to wonder why Father couldn’t come to see us sometimes, as Cousin Ellen’s Father did.  Sister Mary said she saw him in Augusta twice, and that when we went there to live, we would see him.  That made me happy for I loved my Father very much.  Ah!  How true it is that “man proposes but God disposes”, that summer Augusta was visited with a fearful epidemic of Yellow Fever and one of the first of its victims was Uncle Groves.  Poor Cousin Ellen was overwhelmed with grief and Aunt Emma felt the shock very keenly, but she tried to bear up for the sake of his poor suffering child.  We felt his loss very deeply for we had learned to love him very much.  Our domestic sky was overshadowed by this dark sorrow for many months.  But my hardest trial came in October when I had to part again from my idolized sister who went off to school to remain till her education was completed. In less than a month, Sister Ann also went off to school and Cousin Ellen boarded in the Village all the week to attend the Academy.  Thus Aunt Emma and I were left alone most of the time, for there were no neighbors near enough to visit without taking all day for it.  During the summer months June, July, and August and a part of September, Mr. Thoman Lowndes, a first Cousin of my Aunt’s husband, came up from Charleston to their summer home about half a mile from us.  They had no child of their own but had adopted a little girl when she was only two months old, taking her out of an Orphan Home in New York. She was a very younger than I, but we soon became fast friends, and we mutually grieved when the time came for her to return to Charleston.  Theirs was the only house where I was allowed to spend the day without any of the rest of the family with me. They lived in a great deal of style, and Adela, my little friend, had everything heart could wish in the way of toys, dolls and pretty books, full of fairy-tales and bright pictures.  These were my special delight for I was ever fond of fiction.  Summer was my happy time for then I had a play mate, but I dreaded the long lonely winters.  Mrs. Lowndes, Adelia’s mother, was very anxious to take me to Charleston as company for Adela and said I should attend school with her and take music lessons, as I had a wonderful voice and it would make my fortune if it was cultivated, but Aunt Emma said I was too young to be taken from under her control that it would spoil me to live in luxury and then have to come back to her plain, simple home . Mrs. Lowndes then proposed to accept me, but Aunt Emma said my Father would not consent to her giving me away.  I did not then know that Mrs. Lowndes was a relative of my Father’s, being a Smith, of the same family of Smiths as was my Great Grandmother, Mrs. Daniel Bordeaux.

            While we were alone in the Country, Aunt Emma went in the village often spending several days at a time.  We visited two families, that of Mr. Pinckney’s, the Episcopalian Pastor, who was a cousin of my Aunt’s by marriage, and Mrs. Stone,a daughter of Judge Gaunt, with whom Cousin Ellen boarded to go to school.  I enjoyed these visits very much, for I was very lonely in the country.  I especially enjoyed being with the Stones for they made a great deal of me.  I remember hearing Mrs. Stone tell my Aunt she wondered at her not petting me, I was so unusually bright and pretty and had such a fine voice.  She thought it strange that she showed so much more fondness for Sister Ann than for either Sister Mary or myself. Aunt Emma said she did not intend to show any partiality, but Sister Ann was such a retiring child she had to be noticed more to draw her out while I had to be repressed as it was very easy to spoil me.  Sister Mary and I, she said, had a great deal more of the Old Adam in us, so we had to be managed differently from Sister Ann.  Before the school term was over, Aunt Emma had to take Cousin Ellen home to put a stop to the attentions of young men, especially Mrs. Stone’s son who was very wild.  I was glad to have her at home with us once more for she was more lively than Sister Ann.  About this time, Mr. Buist, the Presbyterian Minister became a frequent visitor at the house, and Mr. Pinchney also.  Of course, I was to young to put any special construction on their visits, but one day Cousin Ellen informed me that we were to have an “Uncle” before long.  I didn’t know what she meant till she told me in plain language, that Aunt Emma was to marry Mr. Buist before long.   I told her I would rather it would be Mr. Pinchney for I liked him, but didn’t like Mr. Buist, he took no notice of children.  I didn’t like to think about it at all and how I wished my father would come and get us and take us home with him.  I was beginning to feel the misfortune of being dependent on others and to fear that after Aunt Emma’s marriage, she could not be the same to us that she had been in the past.

            Early in the summer my Aunt was married in the Episcopal Church by Mr. Pinchney to Dr. Edward Tongue Buist.   Mr. Pinchney’s sister and Mr. Tom Loundes and family were the only one present besides Cousin Ellen and I.

            It was not a very gay looking bridal party that reached the house about dark.  Aunt Emma looked serious and Cousin Ellen and I were very sad, we cried ourselves to sleep that night.

And thus the curtain fell on the past scenes in the drama of my life.

            “A change came oer the spirit of my dreams”,

            And I left my childhood behind me.

Chapter IV

            With the morrow’s sun everything around us was changed.  My Aunt from being the ruling spirit was herself o’er shadowed by a stronger will and one which was often in conflict with what had been her teaching before.   Believing as she did that it was a wife’s duty to obey her husband, she always yielded to him when she had expressed her opinion and he still dissented; so there was never any apparent clash, but we who had been with her before, knew and felt that all things were not as she preferred.  I have neglected to mention Dr. Buist’s two little boys, but they were with their Grandparents in Charleston when he married and it was a month or two before he went and brought them up to Greenville.  The eldest, John Robinson, was a few months younger than myself, and the youngest, Edward Somers, was three years old.  They were very nice well behaved and gave my Aunt very little trouble, soon became very much attached to her, and always continued so, even after she had several children of her own.   They were kind to me too, and even though their Father soon began to show that he felt it a burden to have other than his own children to support.  Though not quite ten years old when my Aunt married, I soon ceased to be a thoughtless child, and my mind was full of many sad perplexing thoughts.  Dr. Buist would ask my Aunt Emma all sorts of questions about my Father and Mother and it would fill me with revengeful feelings toward him, which became stronger the longer I stayed there.  To Cousin Ellen too he was disagreeable, but being grown, she could go away and spend weeks at a time with friends and relatives, and so get away from him.  Sister Ann was in Columbia and did not return for nearly a year.  A baby boy was born before her return, which was a poor little afflicted creature, never could hold its head up or sit alone.  When Sister Ann came, the child was put in her charge, as it seemed to take to her at once. On that account Mr. Buist was much kinder to her than to the rest of us, though he would never allow the child to be brought into his presence, after he found out that it was an idiot.  When it was about sixteen months old, a little baby girl was born which soon showed itself to be all right.  It was called Emma after its mother.  It was a bright beautiful child and I would have loved it ardently if its father had not showed a greater aversion to me than ever and said in my hearing several times that “they would have to get rid of one Emma, there were too many in one house”.  Of course, I knew I was the one he meant.  I was very miserable and for the first time that I can remember began to lose my appetite and grew thin.  One day when Dr. Buist had gone to fill his appointment with one of his country churches, Aunt Emma came upstairs, in the room where I was and found me crying.   She put her arms around me, and kissing me, asked what was the matter.  That broke me down and I couldn’t speak but cried all the harder.  At last I made out to say that I was not happy and wanted Sister Mary.  She told me I was her dear Sister’s child and she loved me very much, and that she had just received a letter from Dr. Johnson, to whom Sister Mary had been going to school, and that he would be in Greenville the next week, and would bring her to see us.  You may be sure my tears were quickly dried, and there was sunshine in my heart that did not cease even after Dr. Buist got back.  Before the end of the week, Dr. Johnson arrived bringing with him my beloved sister.  How I loved the old gentleman, though he was so stern looking for the great joy he brought me in my sister.  She soon found out I was unhappy for I poured all my grief into her sympathizing ear.  I begged her to take me away with her, built she said she couldn’t do it then, but that when her school began she would have me with her, that she would talk with Dr. Johnson about it.  I was then nearly thirteen years old.  Dr. Johnson asked me some questions to find out how much I knew in the way of an education, but I made a poor showing as for two years I had scarcely studied anything.  He had me to read for him and was much pleased with that, for not many grown girls could equal me in reading for I understood what I read and was fond of it.  After they left, he wrote to Aunt Emma saying that he would take me, if she was willing, and educate me, if his health would allow.  He said he saw that I was the possessor of a fine mind, and an unusually good voice, which should be cultivated.  She talked with me about it and, thought I felt afraid of the stern old Dr. I would her I would like to go.  That was about the last of August, so she immediately to work to fit me out with clothing and by the last of September had me ready to go.    A friend of theirs with his wife and two children were going down to Charleston by the same route that I was to take for Edgefield Village, so Aunt Emma went into the Village and put me in their care all the say.  She shed many tears over me when she bade me farewell, she had already given me much good advice which I never forgot, and tried faithfully to follow in after life.   The stage did not leave till about four o’clock in the morning so we all retired very early and at three o’clock got up and prepared for the journey. We  were ready when the stage horn announced its approach,.  The trunks were soon stowed away at the back and we were comfortably seated inside, the driver cracked his whip and winded his horn and the horses started at a brisk rate through the streets leaving the town wrapped in peaceful slumbers.  And now I was about to enter upon new scenes and was to begin my first real school life to continue through several years.  The wild note of the horn recalled to my mind all my life for the past seven years, from the time I left Milledgeville, and parted from my Father to the night we reached Chestnut Hill where the happiest four years of my life were spent.

            “Ah; dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood

            As fond recollections presents them to view;

            The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild wood,

            And every fond haunt which my infancy knew.”

            All the tender emotions of my young heart were stirred as I realized that I had left all the past behind me and I knew not what was before me.  I drew myself in the corner of the seat and covering my face with my shawl, gave myself up to a paroxysm of weeping.  It was dark so no one could see and the lumbering vehicle made such a noise that no one heard me and I cried to my heart’s content.  On such an occasion, “there is a luxury in tears” and the suffered ought to be allowed to indulge in them unmolested.  They are the safety valve which gives relief to the heart ready to burst with grief.  When my tears were exhausted, I soon forgot myself in sleep which lasted so long that when I awoke, the sun was shining brightly and every one else was awake.  Very soon we stopped for breakfast and also for fresh horses, which were changed every ten or twelve miles.  About the middle of the day just before reaching the dinner house, the stage broke down and we all had to get out and walk about half a mile to the house.   A wagon was brought to put the baggage on, then they got the stage to the station, where there was a repair shop.  It took all the afternoon and till abut nine o’clock to put it in running order, so we had to get both dinner and supper there.  We slept a large part of the time so were much refreshed by the stop there.  The friends I was with were very kind to me, and their children were very sweet little girls.  This delay threw us back about eight hours so that instead of reaching my destination at eleven o’clock that night, it was between nine and ten the next morning before the stage drove up before the gate of Dr. Johnson’s residence.  A blast of the horn announced our approach before we reached it and the Doctor and his man servant were there to answer the summons.  It was with regret that I parted from my kind friends and with considerable trepidation, I descended from the stage to meet the stern old man who very kindly received me, and led me into the house, telling his man servant to bring in my baggage.  On the piazza of the house, I was met by his wife, a sweet faced old lady, who welcomed me with a kiss and showed me into her room to take off my things inquiring if I had eaten any breakfast.  I told her I had, so she said the maid servant would show me my room and my trunk would be taken up, and I was at liberty to lie down if I wished to till dinner as the Doctor would not take me in the school room until after dinner.  Of course, I was glad to be able to take off my clothing and rest a few hours as I had not done so for more than two days, and was soon soundly asleep.

Chapter V

            As I said, in my preceding chapter, I soon fell asleep, and slept soundly, not awaking ‘till I felt a hand laid gently on my forehead.  I started and, opening my eyes saw a lady with a sweet gentle face standing by me with her hand on my forehead.  She told me that she was Miss Richardson, one of the teachers and that she would give me a kiss of welcome, for my Sister Mary’s sake, who had been a favorite pupil of hers.  I arose at once and she put her arms around me and kissed me, which started my tears flowing; it reminded me of the embrace of my dear Aunt on parting with me.  Miss Richardson’s gentle lady-like manners ever after brought my Aunt to my mind.  She told me to bathe my face and arrange my hair, as dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes.  I asked if I must unpack my trunk and get another dress, as I had always been accustomed to consulting my Aunt about all such things.  She told me it was not necessary, and there would not be time, for Dr. Johnson would expect me in the school-room after dinner.  She would assist me in unpacking my trunk after school was dismissed.  She had made her way into my heart, as soon as she said, she loved my sister.  I had just finished my toilette when the bell rang for dinner.  It was an order which I dreaded, to be asked into a room among strange girls, but Miss Richardson told me not to be timid, for she would just introduce me to all at once, as the new scholar Miss Emma Juhan, and at some other time would make me acquainted with them individually.  Just outside of her door, we met Dr. Johnson’s daughter, Miss Elizabeth, of whom I had heard my Aunt Emma speak.  I was prepared to stand in awe of her, and her appearance did not tend to dissipate that impression.  Bit I must admit that she spoke to me kindly, and even told me she was my cousin, and I must call her, “Cousin Elizabeth,” which I was told afterwards was the first time she had ever been known to acknowledge kinship with any one.  I suppose a wave of compassion rolled over her heart as she saw me, a lone little stranger, for the first separated from all my loved ones.  When we reached the sitting room, we found that all had preceded us to the dining room, which was below.  Miss Richardson’s seat was at Dr. Johnson’s right hand, and mine was next to her.  All were standing, and as we reached our places the Dr. said, “young ladies this is Miss Emma Juhan, a young cousin of Mrs. Johnson, and sister to Miss Mary Juhan, whom most of you are acquainted with.”  At this all bowed to me and I bowed also, and then the Dr. returned thanks, and all took their seats.  Thus the first trial was passed and the smell of the savory dinner made me feel more cheerful and more at ease.  Aunt Emma had been very particular in training us to behave properly at the table, never, even at the home table, to violate any of the laws of good breeding, and so I labored under no embarrassment as to how to conduct myself, which of course, saved me from being awkward.  On Dr. Johnson’s left hand stood a fine looking youth of seventeen, whom he introduced to me as his son Thomas who was to leave in a few days for college.  I always pity a boy of that age who had to be among a crowd of girls; he is generally a victim to bashfulness, and Tom was no exception to the rule.  But I was too hungry to notice or care for his confusion, though I heard the girls laughing about it when they went upstairs.  There were about twenty boarders, most of them several years my senior, in fact I was at least two years younger than any.

            At about half an hour after dinner, the school bell rung, and Miss Richardson took me into the school room, which was at a little distance from the school.  She had already introduced me to all the boarders on the back gallery, where we were all required to repair, after each meal, to cleanse our teeth.  The Dr. was very particular in regard to taking proper care of the teeth; he was the possessor of a beautiful set himself, which had never been touched by a dentist, and he attributed the fact to the fine care which his father had required him to take of them from his earliest recollection.  Miss Richardson rang the bell to call the school to order, at which, all seated themselves at their desks.  She had already appointed me a seat with a girl of near my age.  Just then I heard a shrill whistle, when all arose, and the Dr. entered bowing as he came in, and walked to his desk, taking his seat, when the school at once sat down.  I do not recall the order of the exercises that afternoon except that Miss Richardson had me up with her all the afternoon reading, writing, spelling, and ciphering.  In reading and spelling I was far ahead of all the girls she had charge of, but in arithmetic I fell short, and also in writing.  In geography I was equal to any although it had been two years since I had looked at a map.  I was rather a hard pupil to locate, for in some things I could get into a high class but in arithmetic I was low down.  I had a great aversion for that branch of study, and never did acquire a taste for mathematics of any kind, though for algebra and geometry, after taking them up, I had more toleration.  But it was a year or two before I got out of ordinary arithmetic.  My thirteenth birthday arrived a few weeks after I began school, and that day I had the happiness of seeing my beloved Sister Mary, as it was Saturday, and the lady with whom she boarded in the country came in to shop and brought her in.  Dr. Johnson told her to stay in with me and he would let his son Thomas drive her out early Monday morning.  How I loved the old Dr. for that, it seemed to me after that he didn’t look near so stern, and I didn’t feel afraid of him any more.  I might as well describe him here, for he had a great deal to do in shaping my life and destiny.  In my mind he and Dr. Buist always rose in contrast, though to a stranger, at first acquaintance, Dr. Buist would be much the more attractive of the two.  Dr. Buist was tall and fine looking, with prepossessing manners, and generally wearing a pleasant smile, with a fund of small talk on hand which made him an agreeable companion to strangers.  Dr. Johnson was short, rather below middle height, with a stern (to a stranger, forbidding), expression on his face, and never making any effort to ingratiate himself in the good graces of others, by talking just to tickle their ears with flattery.  There was somewhat commanding, awe-inspiring in his presence and when he spoke it was something true and obstructive that you heard.  He was one in whose presence vice, and folly would stand a-bashed, and levity flee away.  I once read a few pages of a drama, about the conquest of Peru, by Pizarro, the cruel Spanish General.  A Spaniard who had captured an old Peruvian, and brought him before Pizarro, who was questioning him to try to find out from him the whereabouts of Rollo, the great Peruvian General, and Alonzo, their King.  He asks the old man, “who is this Rollo?” says the old man, “He is the kinsman of the King, in war a tiger, in peace a lamb.  Cora was betrothed to him, but finding she preferred Alonzo, she relinquished his claim for Cora’s happiness.”  To which, Pizarro replies, ‘Romantic savage; I shall see this Rolla soon,” says the Peruvian, “Thou’dst better not, the terrors of his noble eye would strike thee dead.”

            Ever, after reading that passage, Dr. Johnson’s face would rise before me as striking dismay and terror to the heart of the evil-doer.  No one who had done wrong could act the Bravo in his presence; there was a majesty about him that was irresistible.  And that was the secret of his success as a teacher, his very presence would quell the most turbulent spirits, and he educated the moral nature of his pupils as much, if not more than the mental and the physical, though it was his effort to cultivate the whole nature, and to impress upon his scholars the importance of being governed by principles, rather than impulse.  He told us, it was a very doubtful compliment to a person, to say, ‘He possessed noble impulses’; but to say, a person was controlled by noble principle, was the highest commendation.  Brutes, he said, were creatures of impulse, human beings possessed reason, and should be influenced by the sense of right.  He never became excited or in the slightest disguise, lost patience with a scholar, but if it was necessary, could rebuke so decidedly as to make the evil-doer feel as if he would like for the floor to open and swallow her so she might get out of sight.  He was not one to awaken love in the hearts of people generally, but he did inspire them with the profoundest respect.  He was a Baptist Minister though brought up, like myself, an Episcopalian.  He was a graduate of Brown University, in Providence, Rhode Island, one of the first founded, and most prominent Institutions of Learning in the country.  He had studied law, and was practicing his profession in Augusta, Georgia, when he was converted through the influences of his step-mother.  While in college he had become somewhat tainted with infidelity, but on his return home, so much was he impressed by her beautiful Christian life in her own home that he was forced to confess there was a power in Christianity that proved it to be of God.  He studied the Scriptures and soon became the subject of saving grace, and devoted himself to the service of his God.  He was acknowledge to be one of the ablest preachers in the denomination and was president of their Trienial Convention, ‘till the Denomination separated on the slavery question, and then he was elected president of the Southern Baptist Convention, in 1845, which position he held until he died in 1864.  He was a born leader, a prince among men.  Though a first class teacher, and profound Theologian he never felt it his duty to be a pastor, but devoted his life to the cause of education; of female education especially.  He was prominently a teacher, his preaching was that of an Evangelist.  His scholars were remarkable for their thoroughness in the solid branches of an education rather than for showy accomplishments.  He was himself, a fine elocutionist, and considered it very important that every lady should be a good interesting reader. He did not believe that women should be public speakers, nor did he allow any public exercises in his school, but he paid great attention to the rules of elocution and rhetoric in their reading and the preparation of their compositions.  I have said that most of his pupils feared rather than loved him, and it was the case with myself for some time, but a little circumstance one afternoon, revealed him to me in a new light, and changed my feelings towards him.  Friday afternoon was devoted to reading exercises, by the whole school, to which all listened except the youngest, who were dismissed.  He had selected a piece for me to read, in time for me to study it.  It was Cowper’s lines, written on the receipt of his mother’s picture.  I had tried to read it through, to myself, but was so much affected by it that I could not get through with it.  I did not want to go into the class with eyes read and swollen from crying, so had to go unprepared.  I hoped the presence of others, would distract my thoughts, so that any feelings would not be touched, and I would be able to control them.  But when the Dr. called my name, I found myself trembling like a leaf.  I rose and entered the first two words.

            “My Mother,” I thought I should fall, but I choked back my feelings, and read,

            “when I learned that thou wast dead,

            Say wast thou conscious of the tears I shed,

            Hovered thy spirit over they sorrowing son,

            Wretch even then, life’s journey just begun;     

            I heard the bell tolled on thy funeral day,

            I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,

            And –

            I could stand no more, the picture of the poor little orphan boy, so perfectly described my own sad lot, that I was completely overcome, and sunk upon the seat in a flood of tears.  The old Dr. was deeply moved, for he said to me, in a tremulous voice, “My child you are excused, go to your room,” and motioned to Miss Richardson to accompany me, for I could not walk alone, so completely was I unnerved.  It was fortunate for me that it was Friday, so I did not have to face the school the next day.  It was also well for my peace of mind that one of the boarders, Eliza Bacon, was taking her music lesson at the time, and so not present.  She was the only disagreeable unfeeling girl in the whole school.  It was her delight to ridicule everybody and everything.  Nothing was too scared to escape her sneers.  She glorified in trampling on the feelings of others.  No one told her of the affairs for they knew she would make me an object of ridicule.  She was fully six years my senior, but I was cowardly enough to delight in teasing me because she saw I was very sensitive.  Ever after that affair, Dr. Johnson’s manner towards me was more gentle and fatherly, and I stood less in awe of him, as I felt he could understand my feelings.  I learned afterwards that he lost his mother when he was a very young child.  His father did not marry for several years, but when he did, he found a most excellent wife, of whom his son became very fond, and who in her old age, was tenderly cared for by that son the rest of her life.  He very much admired those lines of Cowper, and they created a bond of sympathy between us which was never broken.   To this day I cannot read those lines of Cowper’s without being melted to tears.

            But I must hurry on, or my history will be interminable.

            All that winter I studied hard and improved very rapidly.  Fortunately, I was thrown very little with the other boarders, as I roomed with Miss Richardson, who was a very pious lady, and one of the loveliest characters I have ever met.  I did not see much of Sister during the school term, as she was teaching ten miles away in the country.  I liked all my studies except arithmetic, but my dear friend, Miss Richardson, was very patient with me and tried to encourage in it, for she had the judgment to perceive that it was not stubbornness in me, but owing to the native cast of my mind which had no natural bend in that direction.  My chief delight was in my music, that was a passion with me, it was a mental heir-loom in the family, in different branches of it, both on my father’s and my mother’s side.  Mr. Bacon, (the uncle of my disagreeable schoolmate, but not at all like her, for he was as full of music and poetry and of tender feelings as a bee is of honey,) had given my sister Mary, lessons free for two years.  She was already far advanced in that branch and he said it was a pleasure to him to have such a pupil.  He was the music teacher for the school.  Before I got there, he made the offer to Sister Mary to instruct me also, which she gladly accepted.  He was very fond of vocal music and very soon discovered that my voice gave promise of being an unusually fine one.  Very few of his scholars possessed any gifts in that line, so he was glad to get hold of one who did.  I applied myself very ardently to this study and he took great pride in having me sing.  Dr. Johnson’s health failed just before the close of the school year and he had to leave it, for the last month to his assistants and in consequence it closed before the time expired.  I was taken with bilious fever myself a week before school closed and was sick three before the fever left me.  It was thought best for me to go in the country were Sister Mary was teaching, to spend the summer and recuperate, and return in the fall when school opened.  The old Dr. had a long spell of slow fever, from which, for a while, it was feared he would never recover.  But he had an excellent constitution and was able, he thought, to start again in October.  I went in the country as soon as I was able.  Thom Johnson, the Dr’s youngest son, drove me in the buggy.  He had worn off some of his bashfulness while at college and was quite chatty while we were driving out.  I dare say, if there had been a third party along, he would not have been so much so.  At parting from my sister and myself, he said if he could get hold of the vehicle, he would come out to see us, as the house was going to be very lonely with all the young people gone, he was in hopes I was going to be there during the summer.  A few weeks after going out, I had a return of the fever, I suppose from imprudence in eating fruit, of which there was a great deal of many kinds.  This second attack was worse than the first, and I was really very ill for several weeks.  It was near the close of October before I could return to school.  Mrs. Roper, with whom Sister Mary boarded, took me in one Saturday morning, as she had some shopping to do.  I found only a few of the old boarders there, but among them was my bug-bear, Eliza Bacon, and the worst of it was, I had to occupy a room with her and two other girls.  The girls I liked best had not returned, but new ones in their places.

            When school opened, Dr. Johnson had not returned, but he having gone to the mountains for his health. His youngest daughter, Ann, who had lately graduated, with first honors, from a prominent school at the North, and my dear friend Miss Richardson opened the school examining the new scholars and arranging the classes.  As I had been sick so much, I took up my new studies first, the teachers thinking I best for me to wait ‘till I was strong.  Several weeks passed before the old Dr. returned and when he did, he was only in the school room about two hours each day.  Towards the first of December, it was very evident that Dr. Johnson would never be able to carry out his school again and that his family was very much opposed to his continuing to try to do so.  Mrs. Johnson was not able to attend any longer to the boarding department, and Miss Richardson expected to go back North before Christmas and be married.  Miss Elizabeth, his eldest daughter, was a confirmed invalid and could not take the Mother’s place, and Miss Ann, though willing to be an assistant, was not willing to be Principal.  His Son, Francis was beginning the practice of law, and did not wish to teach, and Tom was still in college.  The old gentleman, though unwilling to retire from the avocation in which he had been engaged nearly forty year, felt that it was an inevitable step, and so notified his patrons, stating that when the school closed for the Christmas Holidays, it would not be reopened.  The announcement was received with great regret by the parents and grandparents of his pupils, many of whom had been his scholars in former days and in different places.

            I was much upset by the news, for I feared I might have to go back to Dr. Buist’s.  Of course, I would love to be with my Aunt, but the idea of being dependent on Dr. Buist again was to me terrible in the extreme.  I had many a cry over the prospect, and told all my troubles to Miss Richardson, with whom I felt much more free than with Mrs. Johnson and her daughters, though they were my cousins.  Miss Richardson told me to give myself into the hands of the Lord, and he would provide for my future.  Before she left she gave me a nice little Bible, (the first I had ever owned) which I promised to read every day.  My Aunt had given me a prayer book, and taught me to pray every night and morning; but I did not then understand what it was to pray in reality.  Miss Richardson married a Baptist Minister after she went back North, and I know she made an excellent preacher’s wife.  The night she left, and all the girls had gone too, I felt rather desolate, and cried nearly all night.  As I was all by myself, it did not incommode any one, but I hated to go down to prayers and breakfast with my eyes all red and swollen.  Dr. Johnson was not up that morning, not feeling very well.  I was not glad he was sick, but was relieved that he was not out to see me.  Mrs. Johnson, Miss Ann, and Tom, who had come home the evening before, were the only ones at the table; Miss Elizabeth very seldom was up for breakfast.  They were unusually sociable that morning, and Mrs. Johnson told me Tom was going in the country to bring Sister Mary in to spend the Holidays with me.  The clouds suddenly rolled away from my sky and the sunshine of happiness hone around me.  For the first time, I noticed that it was a beautiful day, and I felt like spending it out of doors.  I asked Mrs. Johnson to let me help clear up the dining room.  She said she would rather I would put the sitting room to rights.  Miss Ann said yes, for she was going out for a walk, after a little, and would like me to go with her.  As that was what I was longing to do, I was delighted with the idea.  Tom wanted us to go in the barouche with him for sister Mary, but Miss Ann said no, “she wanted him to get sister Mary in, in time for dinner, which he could not do if he took such a load, as she and I would make, for neither of us was a small potato.”  She was a large fine looking young lady, about twenty-one, and weighted fully 140 pounds, while I was fourteen and weighed 118 pounds.  We soon got through with our house work and putting on our shawls and sun-bonnets, went out for a stroll.  Though so late in the season, we found some wild flowers and grapes and capecapins   .  She also gathered some stones, for she was very fond of geology and had quite a collection of minerals.  We did not get back ‘till after midday, rather tired from our long ramble.  Just before the dinner hour, two o’clock, I had the pleasure of seeing the carriage drive up from which my dear sister alighted and clasped me in her arms.  So my day that had begun so sad and lonely for me, ended in bringing me much happiness.

            We remained nearly a week, having a very pleasant time for, as there were no boarders, we were treated as members of the family.  Dr. and Mrs. Johnson being very fatherly and motherly towards us, and Miss Ann very sisterly.  Even Miss Elizabeth forgot her ailments enough to be friendly.  Francis, the elder son was with us too, and his sprightly conversation and sparkling wit added greatly to the enjoyment of all.  Tom was much more retiring, but seemed to be enjoying himself very much.  I never had a brother, and I almost envied the young ladies two such noble talented brothers.  Francis was somewhat inclined to be wild, his fine manners and appearance, brilliant talents and ready wit made his society much sought after by the gay world, and gave his parents much uneasiness about him, especially as he manifested no interest in religion.  Tom was of a more solid mind, more studious but not so brilliant or fascinating, but he was pious, and a comfort to his father and mother.  I could hardly tell which I liked the most.  I knew I admired Frank the most, but I could trust more in Tom.  But I was not then called on to decide.

            Dr. Johnson advised Sister Mary to take me with her and keep me in school, keeping up my music, for which I had such fine talent.  He told her I was no ordinary child, and my mind must not be neglected; that he would help her to pay my board out there, and he thought by the fall a way would open for me to enter a first class institution.  Oh, how happy I was when I learned I was to be with my beloved sister, who had ever been to the most loved being in the world, and my “Beau Ideal” of everything noble and good.

            On Saturday Tom drove us out in the country, after an affectionate parting from the family and fatherly advice from our venerable benefactor, as Sister Mary was to resume her school on Monday, the first day of the New Year.  When Tom told me good bye, he murmured something about missing me, pressed my hand and kissed it.  I didn’t know what he meant, but I thought he was foolish, or that was the way brothers did.  My sister had quite a large school for the country, but none were as far advanced as myself, except one boy in arithmetic, who was ahead of me in that branch; he was a year older.  Sister Mary gave me several new studies and was very painstaking with me, requiring me to study well.  She was admirable teacher with the gifts of awakening an interest on the part of the pupils, in their studies.  She had several music pupils to whom she gave lessons between school hours, so that there was not much time for practice, which was a great drawback to my progress.  The principal disadvantage about country life is that the Religious privileges are very few.  The churches then had on Sunday schools, and preaching only once a month.  The churches were often ten miles away, sometimes fifteen.  Sunday was largely a day of visiting and often of feasting.  This was very disagreeable to Sister Mary as we had been brought up with reverence for the Lord’s Day, never spending its sacred hours in any thing that was a desecration of them.  It was a new experience to us to have the house full of company every Sunday, unless the family themselves went off somewhere.  Sister Mary would often take me off for a stroll as to get away from the light, often times boisterous conversation and conduct going on in the house.  At last some of the better sort thought it was a good idea to put a stop to the visiting by having a singing school at which they would sing hymns, and, if there was any person present who could lead a prayer meeting, have that also.  The young people at once took up with it, and the Sunday singing school became very popular, but whether it was any better way of spending the day, was doubtful especially as the frolicking was done in the house of God, and his hymns of praise were sung by irreverent lips.  Sister Mary allowed me to go a few times, but it became so disgusting to me that I soon had enough of such singing, both from a religious and a musical point of view.  I shall never forget the first time I attended, so ludicrous did it appear that I could not, for the life of me, restrain my risibility, but was so convulsed with laughter that the effort to control it was actually painful, I had to get up and go out ‘till the performance closed, as I did not want to act so rudely and sit laughing at what they were complacently thinking was a high style of music.  The leader was a young man, dressed in his best home clothes, blue pants, brown coat, yellow vest, white shirt and a high black stock, so high he couldn’t lower his chin sufficiently to strike some of the notes.  He beat the time with his hand, assisted by his foot, which he would vigorously stamp on the accented note, bringing out the sound with a nasal twang that it seemed to me would split my head.  There were at least sixty young people singing with all their might, calling the names of the notes, the four different parts, each part saying a different note.  I had never been in a singing school before, and it seemed to me a perfect bedlam, and the whole thing, people and sounds both, the most ridiculous, ludicrous scene and performance imaginable, and a perfect caricature of music, that divine art which was, to me the sweetest purest of earthly pleasures, having in it more of heaven than of earth.  Shakespeare has truly said, “The man that hath not music in his soul, and is not moved by the strange harmony of sweet wounds, is fit for treason, stratagem and spoils.”  But though the singing school did not make much impression on my heart, I was told that I had created quite a palpitation in the hearts of the country gentlemen, particularly in that of Mr. George Mathis, the master of the school, who insisted on being introduced to me, and, at the invitation of the oldest daughter of the family, along with two or three other young men, accompanied us home, took dinner and spent the afternoon.  Sister Mary was horrified, and it was a long time before she let me go out again without her.  She was so reserved and dignified that they were afraid of her, especially as she had the reputation of being very learned, and they were conscious of their deficiency in that respect.  There were several gentlemen in the neighborhood, well-to-do young farmers, very good looking too, who were quite smitten with her, and were anxious to cultivate her acquaintance, and who called on her several times with serious intentions, but who after two or three such visits received such cool treatment that they suspended their visits.  One was a young physician, a very pleasant prominent young man, who, when she snubbed him, continued to come anyhow, transferring his attentions to me, much to the chagrin of Sarah Roper, the eldest daughter of the family with whom we boarded.  The fact is, though in short dressed, I was such a belle among the young men of the community that Sister Mary became very uneasy and was anxious to get me away.  She was glad that it was near the close of the school term, and that Mrs. Johnson had invited us to go into the village field and spend the summer with her, as the Dr. would travel for his and Miss Elizabeth’s health and Miss Ann would also be away part of the time.

            The first of July found us at Mrs. Johnson’s, but Sister Mary only remained two weeks as that was the length of the summer vacation.  While there, she, with the assistance of Mrs. Ward, her dressmaker, and her two daughters, Lizzie and Jane Dowd, fixed up my summer wardrobe, which needed overhauling and adding to, and which she had no time to do while teaching.  With very little assistance, I could make my own clothing, as Aunt Emma had taught us to sew very neatly.  After Sister Mary left, the Dr. and his two daughters left also, but her son, Francis, was at home.  I noticed he seemed very much changed, was much more sedate and thoughtful, and seemed to spend a great deal of time in his father’s study reading and writing instead of being in his law office.  I went in the parlor one afternoon to practice and closed by singing a song I was fond of.  “O cast that shadow from thy brow.”  I rose to put down the piano and fund him standing behind me.  He said, “That is a beautiful song, and beautifully sung; if you were not so young, I could tell you something, but I am not ready yet and you are too young.”

            I felt confused and was about to leave, when he told me to sit down a little while, and he would tell me something of himself, as no doubt I had noticed, he was not like himself.  I told him yes, he seemed different.  “Well”, said he, “I suppose you have hard I was quite wild, somewhat skeptical, or tried to be, but I have met with a change; the condition of my father’s health sobered me and brought me to my senses, and God’s spirit has, I trust, regenerated my soul and I have decided to devote myself to His service, and to live as becomes the son of such parents as I have.”  “I am now studying for the ministry with a view to becoming a missionary to China; Emma, are you a Christian?”  I was startled and confused by the question, and told him I really did not know what he meant by being a Christian.  “I suppose,” said he, “you were brought up in the Episcopal faith, which taught you that you were made a Christian when you were christened by the preacher?”  I assented, but told him I believed, after seeing some young ladies immersed some years before, that immersion was the Baptism taught in the Bible, though I did not know how to be a Christian.  He then explained to me that we are all sinners, have wicked hearts, and cannot change them ourselves, nor can anyone do it for us, but that, God so loved us that he gave his son, Jesus Christ, to die for us; that if we believe in Him, love, trust and obey him, the Holy Spirit will change our hearts and God will forgive us, and accept us as his children.  He told me, he would leave in a few days as soon as Tom got home, but would speak to me again.  He pressed my hand and left the room, leaving me very much impressed by his words and his looks.  That night, he held family prayer, for the first time since I had professed religion, and his mother was very much overcome.  I went into her room to bid her goodnight, and she told me she was very happy over the change in her son, but it had come so suddenly she almost feared to hope that it would be genuine.  I told her, he had told me about it and talked to me on religion.  She kissed me affectionately that night and said she had loved my mother more than any of her cousins, that they bore the same name, and I resembled her very much.

            The next day Tom arrived and added another to the household.  After dinner, thinking that he and his brother had gone down the street, I went in the study to find something to read.  I had already read Bulwer’s “Last Day of Pompeii”, and “Rienzie” and seeing another by the same author, “Ernest Maltravers”, was looking over it, when the door opened and Frank entered.

            “Reading,” said he, “what is it”, and he took the book, a slight frown contracted his brow as he closed the book and said, “Let me beg you not to read this book, it is not fit for you to read; have you read any of Bulwer’s works?”  I told him I had read “The Last Days of Pompeii”, and “Rienzi”.  “They are alright”, said he, “but you are too young to read much fiction.”  ‘I am going away tomorrow, I may be gone several years; when I come back, I want to find you as innocent as you are now; you will be in school doubtless, all that time, think of me as one who loves you, but who will not bind you by any promise, for you are but a child yet, and I cannot impose on your youth, I cannot ask you to let me write to you, for it might tempt me to sever from my line of duty.”  “I will hear of you, however, through others; I cannot trust myself to speak to you again, but will bit you good bye now, as I leave before day in the morning, remember, I love you Emma”.  He folded me in his arms, kissed me, and was gone.

            To say I was astonished, didn’t begin to express my feelings; I was overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions.   Up to this time I had been a mere child, now I seemed to have suddenly grown into womanhood.  I scarcely comprehended his meaning; I was not conscious of any love for him, and was glad he had not asked me to, and yet he seemed to expect me to in the future.  I admired him, for he was very handsome and talented, but I felt afraid of him, of his keen wit, for he could be very satirical when he chose.  I was glad he was not at home to tea that evening, and did not return ‘till I had retired.  He had the reputation of being erratic, so I concluded that it was one of his strange freaks, to talk to me, a mere child in that way, and so dismissed it from my mind never telling it to any one, or, giving it a serious thought, ‘till it was brought up to me by another some years after.

            I will just mention here, that he was appointed Missionary to China spending about three years there, when he concluded he was not adapted to that work.

            While with Mrs. Johnson that summer, she allowed me to visit considerably, so I had a pleasant time among former school mates.  Mr. Bacon, my former music teacher, and his sweet wife had me to visit them, and I enjoyed myself with them musically.  He insisted on my singing in his choir, in the Episcopal Church, to which Mrs. Johnson consented, there being no regular preaching in the Baptist Church.  My voice was very much admired and complimented.  The pastor, a young widower, was particularly “struck”, and paid me as much attention as he well could to a girl in short dresses.  A young man, Joseph Terry, studying law in his father’s office, who sung in the choir, was also a captive in my train; in fact Sister Mary did not improve matters much, by sending me into the village, for I was in much more danger of losing my heart among admirers so much more attractive.  But fortunately, my stay was drawing to a close.  Tom Johnson, Cousin Tom, as I now called him, lost a good deal of his timidity after his brother left, and was much more sociable.  He seemed to feel overshadowed by his brother, and in fact, by all except his mother.  He didn’t mind saying gallant things before her.  Some time before Dr. Johnson and his daughters left, two of Mrs. Johnson’s nieces with the two children of one of them, came to visit the family.  They were also my cousins, being descended from the Hornbys.  They were very pleasant ladies and took a great fancy to me.  They had me to sing for them and I heard them expressing themselves in the highest terms of admiration of my voice saying, I possessed a fortune in it, and that they intended telling their aunt, Madame Dupres of Charleston, about me; they knew she would like to take me and have it cultivated.  A few weeks after they left, their aunt wrote to Dr. Johnson offering to take me as a daughter, and give me every advantage this Country and Europe could afford.  I was not told of this for a long time, neither was Sister Mary, or she would have wished to accept it.  Dr. Johnson declined it because he knew it would end in my going on the stage, to which he was utterly opposed.  He stated to Madame Dupree, that he had already accepted an offer from Dr. George Howe, of Columbia, whose wife was our cousin, to take me and have my education completed, and that I would very shortly leave for Columbia.

            One afternoon about the first of September of that year, 1845, Miss Ann Johnson came into my room upstairs and told me there was a gentleman in her parlor who wished to see me, Dr. Howe of Columbia.  I knew who he was, as we had spent some time with them on our way from Milledgeville to Greenville, but I recollected nothing about him except that he walked with a crutch.  Arranging my dress and hair, I went down and met a fine benevolent looking elderly gentleman who greeted me with a kiss.  He told me he had been to Greenville lately and saw Aunt Emma, sister Ann and Cousin Ellen, and they were all well, and was on his way to Augusta, before going home to Columbia, and had stopped to see me and find out if I was wiling to go and live with them as a daughter, and go to school, as Sister Ann had.  Of course, I thanked him for the kind invitation and said I would be glad to do so.  He remained ‘till after tea, leaving at eight o’clock for Augusta.  He wished me to go as soon as possible, to be there at the opening of the schools on the 15^th day of the month.  Sister Mary was brought in and was delighted at the good fortune that had befallen me, and they all went to work and got me ready to leave by the 10^th of the month.  And thus, after a two years stay in Edgefield, I bade farewell to my friends, and my beloved sister and entered upon other scenes among other friends and commenced another chapter in the history of my school life.