EVERETT’S DESERTION.

During the early spring of that memorable year, 1864, it was announced to the citizens of Decatur that Judge Hook and family, including his accomplished daughter, Mrs. Whitesides, and her children, from Chattanooga, had arrived at the depot, and were domiciled, pro tem., in cars which had been switched off the main track of the famous old Georgia Railroad. This novel mode of living, even in war times, by people in their monetary condition and social standing, naturally attracted much attention, and brought us to a full realization of approaching danger. That this family, accustomed to all the luxuries of an elegant home, should live in such an abode, with its attendant privations, was convincing proof that the home they had abandoned had become intolerable because of the proximity of the enemy; and it was also fearfully suggestive that that ubiquitous enemy was extending his dominion and bringing the fiery, bloody conflict into the very heart of the “rebellion.”

A rebellion, by way of parenthesis, which impartial historians will put on record as the grandest uprising of a long suffering people that was ever known in the annals of nations; “a mutiny” (as that chief of Southern haters, John Lathrop Motley, whose superb egotism impressed him with the idea that his influence could change the political trend of Great Britain towards the South, has seen proper to denominate it) in the camp of American councils brought about by unceasing abuse of the Southern States by political tricksters, whose only hope of survival lay in the hatred for the South thus engendered.

The coming of Judge Hook’s family was hailed with pleasure by all good and loyal citizens, and was a ligament connecting more closely states suffering in a common cause; and we all called upon them and soon numbered them with our intimate friends. Mrs. Whitesides and Miss Hook were effective workers in all that benefited our soldiers or their families.

Judge Hook was superintendent of the Government Iron Works, and literally brought the foundry as well as the operatives with him. Among the latter was a man by the name of Everett, who, with his family, consisting of his wife and five children, occupied an old one-room house near a corner of our home lot. Although a hearty, hale, and rather good-looking man, Everett was very poor, and the first time I ever saw his wife she came to borrow “a little flour.” As my mother never turned away from a borrower, Mrs. Everett’s vessel was filled to overflowing, and, besides, a pitcher of buttermilk and a plate of butter was given to her, for which she was extremely grateful.

An acquaintance thus begun continued during the spring and early summer months, and there was not a day during that period that my mother did not find it convenient to do something for this family. Mrs. Everett was more than ordinarily intelligent for a person in her position, and the blush which mantled her pretty cheeks when she asked for anything betrayed her sensibility; and her children were pretty and sweet-mannered. I never saw Everett, only as I met him going and coming from his work, and on those occasions he showed the greatest respect for me by taking off his hat as he approached me, and holding it in his hand until he had fully passed. He seemed to be a steady worker, and if he ever lost a day I never heard of it; and Mrs. Everett was industrious, but much of the time unemployed for lack of material with which to work, and she often begged for something to do. She was anxious to work for our soldiers, and told me that all of her male relatives were in the Confederate army. This circumstance endeared her very much to me; and I made the support of his family very much easier to Everett than it would have been had he lived in a non-appreciative neighborhood. And when the village girls met at our house to practice for concerts for the benefit of our soldiers, which they did almost weekly, I never forgot that Mrs. Everett’s brothers were in our army fighting valiantly, no doubt, for our cause, and I always asked her to come and bring her children to my room and listen with me to the sweet music and patriotic songs.

As time sped, many opportunities for witnessing Mrs. Everett’s devotion to her native land presented themselves; and her service to its defenders, though humble and unobtrusive, was valuable. Her children, too, always spoke lovingly of our soldiers, and were never more happy than when doing something for them. At length the time came for another move of the foundry, and quietly, as if by magic, it and its appurtenants, under the judicious management of Judge Hook, got on wheels and ran at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour until it reached Augusta—another haven of rest invested with heavenly beauty. After the departure of this important adjunct to this portion of the Confederacy, it was discovered that Everett and his family remained in Decatur. And a remarkable change came over them. Instead of the free-spoken, unsophisticated woman that she had always appeared to be, Mrs. Everett became reserved and taciturn, and seldom left the enclosure by which her humble dwelling was surrounded. And the children ceased to cheer us by their merry prattle and daily trip for a pitcher of buttermilk, which, under the changed and unexplained circumstances, my mother sent to them.

On the never-to-be-forgotten 19th of July, 1864, when a portion of Sherman’s army dashed into Decatur, it obtained a recruit. In an incredibly short time, Everett was arrayed in the uniform of a Yankee private, and was hustling around with the Yankees as if “to the manner born.”

On the 22d of July, when the Confederates ran the Yankees out of the little village they had so pompously occupied for a few days, Everett disappeared, and so did his family from the little house on the corner. I supposed they had left Decatur, until I went out in town to see if I could hear anything from the victors—their losses, etc.—when by chance I discovered that they had taken shelter in the old post-office building on the northeast corner of the court-house square.The morning after the hurried evacuation of Decatur by the Federal troops, I arose, as was my custom, as day was dawning, and, as soon as I thought I could distinguish objects, I opened the front door and stepped out on the portico. As I stood looking upon the ruin and devastation of my war-stricken home, imagine my surprise and consternation when I saw a white handkerchief held by an invisible hand above a scuppernong grape arbor. My first impulse was to seek security within closed doors, but the thought occurred to me that some one might be in distress and needed aid. I therefore determined to investigate the case. In pursuance of this object I went down the steps, and advanced several yards in the direction of the waving signal, and asked:

“Who is there?”

“Come a little nearer, please,” was the distinct answer.

“I am near enough to hear you; what can I do for you?” I said, and did go a little nearer.

“Miss Mary, don’t be afraid of me; I would die for you and such as you, but I cannot die for a lost cause”—and through an opening in the foliage of the vines, which were more on the ground than on the scaffolding, a head protruded—handsome brown eyes and dark whiskers included—Everett’s head, in all the naturalness of innocence.

I thought of his wife and of his children, and of his wife’s brother in the Confederate army, and again asked with deliberation:

“What can I do for you?”“Bless me or curse me,” was the startling answer, and he continued:

“Your kindness to my wife and children has nerved me to come to you and ask that you will aid me in seeing them, especially her. Will you do it?”

“Yes, though I despise you for the steps you have taken, I will grant your request. Don’t be afraid that I will betray you.”

“Where shall I go?” he asked, with a perceptible tremor in his voice.

“While I am out here seeming to prop up these shrubs, make your way to the kitchen and enter its front door, and don’t close it after you, but let it remain wide open. But be still until I tell you to start.”

As if going for something, I walked hastily around the house and kitchen, and entering the latter brought out an old hoe, and seemed to use it quite industriously in banking up earth around fallen shrubbery. Watching an opportunity—for in those war times all things, animate and inanimate, seemed to have ears—I said:

“When I go into the house, you must go into the kitchen, and be certain to let the doors remain open.”

I never knew how Everett made his journey, whether upright as a man, or upon all-fours like a beast.

From sheer exhaustion my poor mother was sleeping still, and Toby’s breathing and general appearance as he lay upon his pallet, plainly indicated the presence of deep seated disease. I looked around for Telitha, and not seeing her, went into the dining room where I found her sitting by a window. By unmistakable signs she made me understand that she had witnessed the entire proceeding connected with Everett through the window blinds.

Soon the loud tramping of horses’ feet caused me to run again to the front door, and I beheld a number of our scouts approaching. I went to meet them and shook hands with every one of them. No demonstration, however enthusiastic, could have been an exaggeration of my joy on again seeing our men, our dear Confederate soldiers, and yet I thought of Everett and trembled.

“Have you seen any Billy Yanks this morning?” was asked by several of them; and I replied:

“No, I have not seen any since our men ran them out of Decatur yesterday.”

“How did they treat you while they were here?”

“You see the devastation of the place,” I replied. “Personally we escaped violence; but I would like you to go into the house and see the condition of affairs there.”

Said they:

“It would not be new to us. We have seen the most wanton destruction of property and household goods wherever they have gone.”

“Do wait and let me have a pot of coffee made for you. The Yankees gave our negro girl quite a good deal of it, and not using it herself, she gave it to my mother, and I want you to enjoy some of it,” I said. They replied.

“Soldiers can’t wait for luxuries.”

“Good-bye and God bless you,” was their parting benediction. And then as if impelled by some strange inspiration they galloped round to the well. I ran into the house and got several tumblers and fairly flew out there with them, as there was no gourd at the well. The kitchen was in close proximity, and the door stood invitingly open. What if a bare suspicion should prompt these brave men to enter? Alas! All would be up with the poor miscreant who had thrown himself upon my mercy, and who was even then lurking there under my direction. But, thank the good Lord, they did not enter, and after again invoking God’s blessings upon me, they galloped off in a southerly direction; and never did retreating sounds give more relief.

I went into the house. My mother, thoroughly exhausted, and perhaps discouraged, chose to remain in bed, and as she lay gazing intently upon the wall above her, I doubt if she saw it, so intense was her meditation. As Telitha by this time had a fire made in the dining room, I prepared a pot of good strong coffee, and after partaking of the exhilarating beverage myself, and seeing that each of the household was supplied, I took the remainder with necessary adjuncts to Everett. Never will I forget his appearance as we stood face to face—he a miserable deserter from the cause I loved, and the recipient of favors I scorned myself for bestowing. I told him I would go at once for his wife, and that after seeing her he must make his way into the enemy’s lines as soon as possible.

A few minutes sufficed to carry me to Mrs. Everett’s retreat, already mentioned. I sat down on the front doorsteps and drew from my pocket a newspaper, which chanced to be there, and commenced reading aloud. At length I saw that my presence had attracted the notice of the children, and I called them. One by one they came to me, and I shook hands with them and asked them about their mother. Hearing my voice and inquiries, she spoke to me most pleasantly. I asked her to come out and take a seat by me on the steps. She did so, blushingly and timidly. I wrote on the margin of the paper, “Send the children away,” and handed it to her. She did so. Assured that they were not in hearing distance, I held the paper before me, and, as if reading, I told her the story of my early interview with her husband; of his earnest desire to see her; of my consent, on her account, to plan a meeting with her; of his secretion in our kitchen; and the necessity of the greatest caution in our movements. I told her that after walking around a little, and exchanging experiences with the brave ladies of the village, she would see me, by keeping watch, going home, and then she could take a little basket in her hand, as if going for something, and come on to our house. She implicitly followed my directions. My mother received her as if nothing of an unpleasant nature had transpired; and, although it is a very difficult problem, and never solved without the aid of necromancy, I undertook to deduct something from nothing, and so far succeeded that I had several small packages to lay in her basket as she started. Knowing that she knew the way to the kitchen, I gave her a wish that all would end well, and bade her good-bye, never, doubtless, to meet her again on earth. The tears flowed plenteously down her cheeks, and her tongue refused to speak, but the pressure of her hand attested gratitude, and affection, and farewell. I got a glimpse of her as she went out of the alley gate; but I never knew when he abandoned his hiding place. I heard that about dusk a Federal army wagon, under protection of a company of troops, came and took her and her little children out of Decatur.