brave soldier boys; while each small boy considered himself a committee to see that buckets of fresh water were ready for them. Then we would meet near the depot or "water tank" and wait their coming. The trains did not tarry long, but sometimes long enough for an exchange of hearts, and on one occasion that I knew of resulted in marriage.

At that time, I had no soldier sweetheart, but was more interested in the conductor who had charge of the train than in the soldiers; so my buttonhole bouquet was generally pinned on the lapel of "Captain Ivey's" coat whenever he was aboard. Just here let me say that Captain Ivey raised a company of cavalry and reported for duty, but the president and superintendent of the W. & W. R. R. would not let him leave the road; he was detailed and brought back, and served in the civil service during the war.

Those were times that tried women's souls as well as men's, and though we worked hard and prayed often for those who were giving their lives for us, there were times when the young folks, at least, had fun. A soldier boy would come home on furlough and persuade his sweetheart to marry him before he returned. Then we were all alive. Old trunks were opened and ransacked for remains of finery that had been long hid away. Sometimes we were fortunate enough to find white slippers, discolored by age; we would chalk them, mend the holes, or would beg or pay the old negro shoemaker "at the quarters" to put soles on jeans uppers. Happy the girl whose mother or aunt had once been a belle, and had left some embroidered or India muslins. Sometimes a light silk would be found and utilized. An old threadbare black silk apron was considered a treasure; when picked to pieces and mixed with wool, it made a nice filling for cotton warp; and when woven, such a lovely soft gray dress the bride would have, trimmed with persimmon seed, or with buttons made of round bits of pasteboard, covered. Then the hat was made of shucks or oat and wheat straw, plaited and trimmed with paper or feather flowers. Having secured the dress, now we turned our attention to the wedding supper. The old black "maumers" would try their skill in this and, with preserved watermelon rind for citron, dried cherries, and other small fruits, we would have a delicious fruitcake.

So the years rolled on-sometimes sunshine, sometimes shadow, but with never a doubt as to the final success of our Cause. I can never forget the first news we had of Lee's surrender. It was a warm Sunday afternoon in April. Several girls were down by the river bank, where the falls make a miniature Niagara. We were

chatting or singing, all thinking of loved ones and wishing "this cruel war was over" when we saw a ragged, sick-looking soldier coming slowly along the dusty road. A spring of cool water bubbled near; he saw the gourd hanging by a nail that was driven in a tree, and stopped and asked for a drink. We soon gathered around him, each one with a question. One girl asked why he was coming home alone. "Indeed, Miss,” he replied, “I am not alone; others are behind, and all that are left of the army are coming, for the war is over; General Lee has surrendered." In a few moments, two other soldiers came up and confirmed what the first had told. We were quite indignant, turned away from the "deserters," as we called them, and then hastened home to repeat the news. In a few days, our worst fears were confirmed. The soldiers continued to come, all telling the same story. Lee had indeed surrendered. He was confronted with overwhelming odds. Our boys were compelled to lay down their arms; but never conquered.

To this day, the Lost Cause is ever green in the memory of those who lived and acted through the vicissitudes of that cruel war. For this reason we are banded together, that our children, and their · children, may not forget our wrongs. Our flag is furled; but the bravery of the men on the field, and the women at home, will live in the memories of the lovers of freedom while the sun shines on our beloved Southland. ELEANOR S. Ivey, née TURNER.

Some Heroic Women.

As historian of this Chapter, I feel it an honor, as well as a privilege, to be able to testify to the many acts of heroism among the women of the South during that trying period of the four years' war. As my life at that time was not cast among the hills of old Edgefield, I must beg that I be not confined to that County, not even to the State of South Carolina, in telling some of the reminiscences of heroic deeds.

Those of you whose lives have dawned since the blessed Angel of Peace spread her wings over our dear Southland, or even those who were children at that time, can have no adequate conception of the labor and trials the wives and mothers, and even the young girls, endured. There was work for all. While the mothers were looking after the carding and spinning that had to be done, not only to supply the family with clothing, but to send to the soldiers; or riding over the farm, directing the hands, so that the crops would not fail; the

young girls were busy knitting socks, or making garments to send to the loved ones in the camp. "They also serve who only stand and wait." And those brave women who took the part of man, as well as woman, deserve as much praise for their heroism as those who left home and followed the loved ones in the battlefield. History does not tell of those, but they deserve more than praise for their patience in waiting, and their energy in doing.

There are others who won for themselves names that will live so long as the historian's pen shall immortalize their bravery in giving up the comforts of their homes, leaving all that a woman holds most dear, to share the dangers, trials and privations of a soldier's life. Edgefield had one daughter whose name will be honored together with her generals and great men while a veteran of the Rebel army lives: Mrs. Neal Horn, who left her home and went with her husband and son to Virginia and, sharing their tent life with them, served through the war-not with guns, pistols, and swords, but ever by their side, to supply, as far as she could, home comforts in cooking, and keeping their clothes clean and mended. When the God of Battle held high carnival, and the wounded and dying were all around, her womanly ministrations were not confined to her own loved ones, but many a mother's boy was comforted, and his dying hour made easier, by her presence.

There are many in Edgefield who know and love the name of Mary Ann Bowie, "the soldier's friend," as she was called. While she was never amid the frightful scenes of the battlefield, still she gave her time and life, and traveled all over the country, soliciting contributions of money, clothing, or anything that could be used for their comfort.

Among those whose deeds were prompted by charity and love of country, there were others who were wild over the excitement and romance that the war offered. Belle Boyd sprang into notoriety first as a Southern spy and newspaper reporter. Many were the acts of bravery she did in obtaining useful information for our generals. About a year before the close of the war, she was on the privateer "Greyhound," bound for Nassau, when she was captured by the Yankees and suffered all the privations of a prison until she was exchanged.

Of all who have gained a reputation for reckless daring and deeds of valor during the Civil War, there are none who outrank the brave Cuban girl, Loretta Valesque. Naturally of a romantic turn of mind, she became so enthused over the wrongs of the South that she

determined to have a part in the tragedy there being played. The first act in her life of adventure was to marry a young American officer who was serving in the United States Army. She was only fourteen at that time; but the girls of Cuba mature so much earlier than here, she had a woman's form and a woman's heart. When war between the States was declared, his regiment was ordered back to the United States, and such was her influence over him that, yielding to her persuasion, he left the Union Army and enlisted with the South. Loretta, full of the excitement pertaining to war, wanted to share the danger with him. She longed to be where she could hear the music of the bullets as they whistled past, and see the lightning of the swords as they flashed from the scabbards. Pleading with him to let her accompany him, she was, as she thought, justly indignant when he refused his consent. Womanlike, she concealed her impatience, and while he thought she had given up the idea, she only bided her time. "When a woman wills, she wills," and you may depend on it. His farewell kiss was scarcely cold on her lips when she sought a tailor, to have him make and pad a suit of clothes for her. Thus disguised, she boarded a train for New Orleans. Alas! Lieutenant Harry Buford, her "nom de guerre," had not calculated on the heat of the city, consequently the padded garments became unendurable; so she had to find another tailor to substitute wire for cotton in the padding; these she fastened under her arms, giving her the necessary squareness to her figure. After getting rigged up, her next step was to raise a company of recruits, and, at the head of these, she made her way to Pensacola, to join her husband. Words cannot express his surprise and chagrin when she was shown into his and made herself known to him; but he was a wise man, and presence appreciated the romantic side of the situation, so instead of giving her away and opposing her, he helped to drill her soldiers. Unfortunately for her, her husband was killed not long after by the bursting of his carbine. Nothing daunted, she succeeded in having her company transferred to Virginia, and marched into line at the Battle of Bull Run. A writer, in speaking of her on that occasion, says, "No man on the field fought with more energy than she did; fear was not known to her."

Getting tired of active duties, she decided to assume her female dress and take the part of a spy. Having bribed an old negro to ferry her across the Potomac one freezing cold night, she arrived safely in Washington. There she renewed her acquaintance with some officers of the Northern Army. Bringing all her powers of

fascination to bear upon them, she gained what valuable information she could and then returned to the Confederate lines.

In giving us a short history of her life as soldier and spy, the writer remarks that, in the midst of her varied experiences, she found time to be married three times, and left the romantic adventures of her life as a legacy to her children. A wound on her arm caused her sex to be discovered. Once known, she managed to escape to some other section of the country, and again assumed her masculine garb. The last that was heard of this wonderful woman, she had gone to California as a miner. MRS. JAMES H. WHITE. Johnston, S. C.

Reminiscences of the Confederate War. I can recall the four years of the Civil War with many sad and some pleasant recóllections. I was young, and the dark days, interspersed with those of sunshine, kept us ever watching and wishing for the "silver lining" to deck our clouds of despair. We did not realize the suffering and privation that would inevitably befall the South until 1864-65; then, being deprived of any foreign aid, as recruits for our army, clothing and the usual luxuries in our culinary department, we resorted to devices which would at the present day seem quite commonplace and ludicrous. Coffee was not in store; therefore, wheat, rye, and sweet potatoes were substituted; syrup made from the sugarcane; the ripe pulp of watermelons and persimmons were used for sugar; our choicest cakes were made with syrup; corncobs burnt, and the ashes were used for soda. Clothing also exercised our ingenuity. Silks, worsteds, and even calico, were seen in a few tattered garments left to remind us of the "days gone by." All of the old cards and spinning wheels, looms which had been stored away so many years, covered with the cobwebs of antiquity, were brought into use, and homespun was the most fashionable material, dyed in all of the colors of the rainbow; and although we had no Paris Delineator from which we could cull patterns, we imagined our costumes adorned us quite becomingly. Gloves, hose, shawls, and scarfs were knit with Confederate thread, not only for our use, but our soldiers. Hats and bonnets were made of wheat and rye straw, bleached or dyed, braided and fashioned into shape; our domestic feathery tribe were deprived of some of their plumage, a small bow of faded ribbon (if such an article could be found among the war wreck); and we donned our Confederate tiara with as much