A PERILOUS TRUST.

“It is most time to go to the post-office, ain’t it, Miss Mary? We are going to get a letter from Marse Thomie this morning.”

“What makes you so certain of it, Toby?”

“I don’t know’m, but I am; and every time I feels this way, I gets one; so I’ll just take my two little black calves and trot off to the office and get it;” and suiting the action to the word he struck a pretty brisk gait and was soon around the corner and out of sight.

Then Decatur received but two mails per day—one from an easterly direction and the other from a westerly direction. The northern, northwestern, southern and southwestern, all coming in on the morning’s Georgia Railroad train. Therefore ever since Thomie’s return to his command, the western mail was the one around which our hopes and fears daily clustered.

General Joseph E. Johnston’s army was, at the time of this incident, at Dalton, obstructing the advance of Sherman’s “three hundred thousand men” on destruction bent. And though there had been no regular line of battle formed for some time by the Confederate and Federal forces, there were frequent skirmishes, disastrous alike to both sides. Hence the daily alternation of hopes and fears in the hearts of those whose principal occupation was waiting and watching for “news from the front.”

The team of which Toby was the proud possessor did its work quickly, and in less time than it takes to tell it he appeared in sight, returning from the post-office—one hand clasping a package of papers and letters, and the other, raised high above his head, holding a letter. I could not wait, and ran to meet him.

“I’ve got a whole lot of letters, and every one of them is from Dalton, and this one is from Marse Thomie!”

Toby had read the Dalton post-mark, and had made a correct statement. The well-known chirography of my brother had become so familiar to him that he never mistook it for another, and was unerring in his declarations regarding it. On this occasion Thomie’s letter thus read:

“My Dear Sister:—Those acquainted with army tactics know that General Johnston is on the eve of an important move, or change of base; and that it should be the effort of the men, officers and privates, to be prepared to make the change, whatever it may be, with as little loss of army paraphernalia as possible. As the Confederate army has no repository secure from the approach of the enemy, several of our friends suggest that you might be willing to take care of anything which we might send to you, that would be of future use to us—heavy overcoats, extra blankets, etc., etc. Consider well the proposition before you consent. Should they be found in your possession, by the enemy, then our home might be demolished, and you perhaps imprisoned, or killed upon the spot. Are you willing to take the risk, trusting to your ingenuity and bravery to meet the consequences? Let me know as soon as possible, as war times admit of little delay. General Granbury, Colonel Bob Young, and others may make known to you their wishes by personal correspondence. Love to my mother and sister, and to yourself, brave heart.

Affectionately, your brother
T. J. Stokes.”

This letter was read aloud to my mother, and the faithful mail carrier was not excluded. She listened and weighed every word of its contents. For several moments a silence reigned, which was broken by her asking me what I was going to do in the matter.

“What would you have me do?” I asked in reply.

“What would they do, Mary, in very cold weather, if they should lose their winter clothing, overcoats and blankets, now that supplies are so difficult to obtain?”

This question, evasive as it was, convinced me that my mother’s patriotism was fully adequate to the occasion, and, fraught with peril as it might be, she was willing to bear her part of the consequences of taking care of the soldiers’ clothes.

The return mail bore the following letter addressed jointly to General Granbury, Colonel Robert Young, Captains Lauderdale and Formwalt, Lieutenant Stokes, and Major John Y. Rankin;

“My Dear Brother and Friends:—I thank you for the estimate you have placed upon my character and patriotism, as indicated by your request that I should take care of your overcoats, blankets, etc., until you need them. If I were willing to enjoy the fruits of your valor and sacrifices without also being willing to share your perils, I would be unworthy indeed. Yes, if I knew that for taking care of those things, I would subject myself to real danger, I would essay the duty. Send them on. I will meet them in Atlanta, and see that they continue their journey to Decatur without delay.

Your friend,
M. A. H. G.”

Another mail brought intelligence of the shipment of the goods, and I lost no time in going to Atlanta and having them re-shipped to Decatur. There were nine large dry goods boxes, and I went, immediately on their arrival, to Mr. E. Mason’s and engaged his two-horse wagon and driver to carry them from the depot to our home. When they were brought, we had them placed in our company dining-room. This room, by a sort of tacit understanding, had become a storeroom for the army before this important lot of goods came, and, as a dining-room, much incongruity of furniture existed, among which was a large, high wardrobe. The blinds were now closed and secured, the sash put down and fastened, the doors shut and locked, and this room given up to the occupancy of Confederate articles; and thus it remained during the eventful period intervening between the departure of General Joseph E. Johnston’s army from Dalton, and Sherman’s infamous order to the people of Atlanta and vicinity to leave their homes, that they might be destroyed by his vandal hordes.