The author of these Reminiscences (F. M. Mixson) was born at Barnwell Court House, South Carolina, on the 5th day of December, 1846. I was the nineteenth and youngest child of Wm. J. and Sarah Ann Mixson. My father died when I was about six years old, leaving my mother a large family to see after. My father, Wm. J. Mixson, was recognized as one of the best men of Barnwell District and had the reputation of being one of the most truthful and honest and best men of the State. He was familiarly known in the District as "Uncle Billy," and his word was always taken without dispute. My mother, before her marriage, was Sarah Ann Johnston, from the lower part of Barnwell District, now Hampton County. She was highly connected with the best people of the lower section of the State. She was a woman of great business capacity, being very energetic, fine business ability and quite industrious. They married quite young and raised a large family.

Of my parents' families I know very little. My father had four brothers—Joyce, Charles, Archie and Miles—all of whom lived in the lower part of Barnwell District, between Johnston's Landing and Matthews' Bluff, on the Savannah River. They all had good sized families. Early in the 1850's they all moved to Florida with their families and that State is now thickly populated with Mixsons and Mixson descendants. Father also had four sisters. Aunt Experience married Ben Brown and afterwards Fogler. Aunt Susan also married a Brown (Josiah). Aunt Levisy married Robert Kirkland, of Buford's Bridge, and Aunt Hanson married James Darlington, of the Cypress Chapel section. All of these had families and were well to do in this world's goods.

My mother had, so far as I am informed, two brothers—Uncle Joe Johnston being the eldest. He remained in the State, his home being in the upper part of Beaufort District, now Hampton County. He, too, was well off in this world's goods. He at one time represented his District in the Legislature. In those times travel was not like now. When Uncle Joe would leave home for Columbia, the capital, he would mount one horse, his negro boy another with the hand-bag of wearing apparel. It would take them some three days to make the trip. Then was the time when the State House was a small wooden building situated on the same grounds as now. The only place the members and public had to stop and put up was at Granby's—a high bluff on the Congaree River, about two and a half miles from the present State House, where there was a boarding house. Uncle Ben Johnston moved to Shreveport, La., before the war and amassed quite a fortune. Mother had three sisters—Aunt Charlotte married Amos Smart, Aunt Jerusha married Henry Best—both of the Allendale section—and Aunt Elizabeth married —— Worton, of Bainbridge, Ga. At the death of my father, mother immediately administered on the estate and she decided it best to take her share and have the children's portion put in the hands of guardians; consequently, she had everything sold, including about sixty-five negroes. This being converted into money, the guardians of those under age were placed in charge of it for their respective charges.

It happened to my fortunate lot to have as my guardian the Hon. James J. Wilson, then State Senator, and at that time a practicing attorney at the Barnwell Bar. He, however, did not remain long in Barnwell after taking me in charge, but returned to his plantation on the Four Mile section of Barnwell District, near the Savannah River, which is now the Ellenton section. I went with him and regarded that my home and was treated as a child by both Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, they having no children of their own except a grown son of Mr. Wilson's by a former marriage. I would occasionally go down to Barnwell to visit my mother and family, sometimes remaining for several weeks. I was truly fortunate in falling into the hands of these good people. Mr. Wilson was one of the best Christian gentlemen I have ever known, and during the many years I remained with him I never saw nor heard any word or act but that bespoke the true Christian, honest and lovable man; and Mrs. Wilson, too, was as kind as a mother to me, a good woman in every sense, but who spoiled me with kindness. I cannot, even now at sixty-four years of age, forget their parental care and kindness to me. They have long ago gone to their reward, a place of peace and rest prepared for such as they were and so richly deserved by them.

The first year of Mr. Wilson's guardianship of me we spent in Barnwell. I was then quite young, but to keep me out of mischief, I suppose, I was sent to school in the village. This school was presided over by a Mr. H. Melville Myers, who taught in Barnwell for many years and died there at an advanced age.

On going up to the plantation on the Four Mile I did nothing for some time, but finally a new school house was built by the neighborhood—the Bushes, Dunbars, Williams, Newmans, Wilsons, and perhaps one or two others, and a Mr. R. H. Alfred, a Campbellite preacher, was engaged to take us in charge. Mr. Alfred was a fine scholar and teacher, and a perfect gentleman. This school house was built about four miles from my home and I had to walk alone. This would seem hard these times, but then it was not so much. This school ran for more than a year, when, for some cause, it closed. In the meantime, my mother had sold out her belongings in Barnwell and purchased a plantation ten miles above Barnwell, on the Hamburg Road, and known then and now as Joyce's Branch.

In the summer of 1860, there being no school on the Four Mile, and my sister Sarah, now Mrs. Richmond, of Atlanta, having a school at Joyce's Branch Church, I went down home and went to school to her; but she gave up the school in the fall and was succeeded by Mr. McBride, an old teacher of much note, who had taught so long that he knew every sum in the Arithmetic by heart. At this time came the excitement of secession, minute men, war and the big comet—all on us at one time. I had no time for anything else, and attended every meeting of every kind. A company of minute men was organized with Dr. Frederick as Commander. This I joined, though not yet fourteen years old. We had our meetings every Saturday at Fred Killingsworth's, near Cypress Chapel Church, for the purpose of drill and to talk over the events that were happening and things we knew would happen in the very near future. I tell you, I was proud of my cockade and wore it on every occasion. This company was not formed with the idea of going into service as a company, but for the purpose of meeting together, talk over matters and keep enthused. I am proud to say, however, that when the call was made to enlist in companies that every member of our Minute Men responded like patriots and joined some command. I had then reached about fourteen years, and, while I had been admitted a member of the Minute Men, there was no company that was being organized that would consent to take me in, especially as I could not get the consent of my mother and Mr. Wilson. This, however, did not dampen my enthusiasm, for I just knew if I did not get there on time the Yankees would "lick" us in short order, hence, I determined to go whenever the troops were ordered out, consent or no consent.

About the first of the year 1860 I returned to the Four Mile. I found that during my absence at my mother's a young physician—Dr. Martin Bellinger—had located in that section and had taken board at our house; and also a nephew of Mrs. Wilson's had lately come to study law under Mr. Wilson. I made fast friends with both these gentlemen, especially Dr. Bellinger. Mr. Steve Laffitte was the name of the law student. He not having much to do, and I nothing, he took me in charge for instruction, but neither of us did much. There was also staying at our house a great big Irishman, by name John Nicholson, a true son of Erin. It goes without saying that Nicholson and I were the very best of friends. The war talk continued and companies were being raised. Nicholson volunteered in a company being raised by Capt. Wm. J. Crawley. This company was assigned to Holcombe Legion when ordered out. I do not remember the date, but the company was ordered to report and get together at Williston, S. C., at a certain time. I slept with Nicholson his last night home, and next morning I arose before daylight, without breakfast or anything to eat, with no clothing—with nothing but enthusiasm. I headed off for Williston, a distance of twenty-seven miles, a-foot. I expected, however, that the wagons containing the men would overtake me during the morning. I had gotten perhaps as far as three miles on my way, walking leisurely along, meditating on the life of a soldier, the many battles I would be in, the gallant deeds I would do, and, above all, the host of Yankees I would kill and put to flight, when I heard the tramp of a horse's feet coming up from the rear. I intuitively knew what it was, but, deigning to look back, I continued my onward course. The horseman soon overtook me, and, riding by me until he got to a pine stump on the side of the road, he rode up to it and waited for me, and on my approach, he (Mr. Wilson) said, "Get up," which I did, and we retraced our way for home. Not another word but "get up" was said during the whole time. I felt that I was being badly treated, and I had the sulks, and Mr. Wilson, in the goodness of his heart, spared me the humility of a lecture.

There were other companies being formed which were to form Hagood's First South Carolina, and it was not many days before they, too, were ordered to rendezvous at Orangeburg, S. C. I had in the meantime gone down to my mother's; she thought the best thing for me was to be put to the plow. This she did. I had been plowing only a few days—perhaps only two days—when in the morning a wagon came along loaded with men on their way to Barnwell to join Hagood there and go from there to Orangeburg, where the famous Hagood's First South Carolina Volunteers were organized. I did nothing less than drive my horse in a fence, jam and load myself on that wagon. Arriving at Barnwell, Johnson Hagood met us, and, looking us over, he spied me and said, "Frank, go back home. Too small now; you will do later." There was nothing else for me to do but get back again. This was some time about the first of April, 1861. About two months after this, I could just stand it no longer, and off I go again without saying a word to any one. I went to Charleston and over to the Regiment and joined Company I, commanded by Capt. J. J. Brabham, in which my brother, J. S. Mixson, was First Lieutenant. When Hagood saw me down there he again ordered me home, and I told him I had already joined. Besides, if he drove me away I would go somewhere else and join. He let up, and I was happy beyond measure. The regiment at that time was only twelve months' troops, and during the fall and winter the reorganization for the war commenced. In the reorganization Company I became Company C, with B. B. Kirkland as Captain. My brother, J. S., did not re-enlist, but went to a cavalry company serving on the coast and became Quartermaster Sergeant of the regiment. I remained with Company C for over a year, when Ely Myrick, of Company E, and I exchanged, he going to Company C, Capt. Kirkland, and I to Company E, Capt. Wood. There was in Company E my eldest brother, Joyce, between whom and myself there were seventeen children—his son, G. D. Mixson, and two Nelson boys, who were my nephews, all of whom were several years older than I. We were stationed on Coles Island during the winter of 1861, but after the reorganization we were moved to James Island and remained there till we were ordered to Virginia. Brother John and his two sons, Elliott and Adrian, re-enlisted in Hunter's Company, Lamar's Second Artillery, and remained in South Carolina and saw hard service on James Island. While on James Island I would get a pass to Charleston whenever I could and spend the day with my sister Susan, who was Sister Mary Magdeline, in the Sisters of Mercy, and on every visit I was treated right royally by them. I remember that before leaving for Virginia my sister placed something around my neck, and until the string wore out and I lost it I was never hurt, but the first fight I went into after losing this I was wounded.