{"id":6283,"date":"2020-11-08T02:00:46","date_gmt":"2020-11-08T07:00:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dotcw.com\/?p=1104"},"modified":"2020-11-08T08:29:43","modified_gmt":"2020-11-08T13:29:43","slug":"a-diary-from-dixie","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/a-diary-from-dixie\/","title":{"rendered":"A Diary From Dixie"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>CHARLESTON, S. C, <em>November 8, I860.<\/em>\u2014Yesterday on the train, just before we reached Fernandina, a woman called out: &#8220;That settles the hash.&#8221; Tanny touched me on the shoulder and said: &#8220;Lincoln&#8217;s elected.&#8221; &#8220;How do you know?&#8221; &#8220;The man over there has a telegram.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>The excitement was very great. Everybody was talking at the same time. One, a little more moved than the others, stood up and said despondently: &#8220;The die is cast; no more vain regrets; sad forebodings are useless; the stake is life or death.&#8221; &#8220;Did you ever!&#8221; was the prevailing exclamation, and some one cried out: &#8220;Now that the black radical Republicans have the power I suppose they will Brown\u00b9 us all.&#8221; No doubt of it.<\/p>\n<p>I have always kept a journal after a fashion of my own, with dates and a line of poetry or prose, mere quotations, which I understood and no one else, and I have kept letters and extracts from the papers. From to-day forward I will tell the story in my own way. I now wish I had a chronicle of the two delightful and eventful years that have just passed. Those delights have fled and one&#8217;s breath is taken away to think what events have since crowded in. Like the woman&#8217;s record in her journal, we have had &#8220;earthquakes, as usual&#8221;\u2014daily shocks.<\/p>\n<p>At Fernandina I saw young men running up a Palmetto flag, and shouting a little prematurely, &#8220;South Carolina has seceded!&#8221; I was overjoyed to find Florida so sympathetic, but Tanny told me the young men were Gadsdens, Porchers, and Gourdins,\u00b2 names as inevitably South Carolinian as Moses and Lazarus are Jewish.<\/p>\n<p>From my window I can hear a grand and mighty flow of eloquence. Bartow and a delegation from Savannah are having a supper given to them in the dining-room below. The noise of the speaking and cheering is pretty hard on a tired traveler. Suddenly I found myself listening with pleasure. Voice, tone, temper, sentiment, language, all were perfect. I sent Tanny to see who it was that spoke. He came back saying, &#8220;Mr. Alfred Huger, the old postmaster.&#8221; He may not have been the wisest or wittiest man there, but he certainly made the best after supper speech.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p>\u00b9 A reference to John Brown of Harper&#8217;s Ferry.<br \/>\n\u00b2 This and other French names to be met with in this Diary are of Huguenot origin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>CHARLESTON, S. C, November 8, I860.\u2014Yesterday on the train, just before we reached Fernandina, a woman called out: &#8220;That settles the hash.&#8221; Tanny touched me on the shoulder and said: &#8220;Lincoln&#8217;s elected.&#8221; &#8220;How do you know?&#8221; &#8220;The man over there has a telegram.&#8221; The excitement was very great. Everybody was talking at the same time. 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