Sketch from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper

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This Week's Story

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Petty Shore
October 25, 1863

To: Isaac Pierce, Co. G, 31st Infty:

Dear brother:

My heart is bounding over at hearing word of you. Mr. S. B. Pool has come home. He has put away his uniform and is walking the roads around Harrellsville as bold as the daylight. He says he is not going to hide and he is not going to run, but he says he is finished with the great war. He says he is declaring a pox on Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Davis both and that they together can take the whole world to hell if they wish but he's not going to help either one of them any. And he said he'll tell the secesh sheriff that if he comes around.

I admire him, but I think he must now be a little crazy.

But I sure do respect him for bringing me word of you. He came over to the Academy and talked to Professor Sharpe and spent about a half an hour with me. He said you were doing well, but he said that you were a little sad. He said that my letters have been getting through to you and that you have been showing them to a lot of the boys from around here. In a way I'm proud of that but also I'm now afraid that I may have been a worry-wart that has been causing a lot of people like you to get upset and out of sorts with your own army. Mr. Pool said a lot of people like you and him were real unhappy to hear how things were down here, and that nobody had any stomach any more for going to Virginia to try to kill Yankees, and certainly not to Pennsylvania.

He said he was going over to talk to Elizabeth and Sarah, because he knew about what happened to Thomas and he knew about when it happened. He said that you and he were sitting safe in Raleigh doing guard duty when they sent the 17th down to Little Washington last year, where they lost Thomas. He said everybody knew Thomas had been shot – and a prisoner for his second time, too – but they didn't know that he had died in that Union hospital until you showed him my letter.

Mr. Pool is mighty upset. I don't want to say that he's gone completely daft, but he sure does rant a lot about what he calls the ruination of the world. You know he had some slaves, not many, but some, and now he says that this whole thing is their fault. Not that he can whip his coloreds for it now – they've long been gone to the river.

He says if they had stayed in Africa, our country wouldn't be going through all the turmoil, but Isaac, I really don't know. Sometimes I feel like there are a lot of people who would find something else to kill each other over even if there weren't any dark skins around anywhere. I don't think colored people are the only thing that's wrong in this world. I'm hoping that there is a better kind of living somewhere around, and I'm hoping that I can find it. I don't think any more that I can find it with the CSA.

Adolphus is still staying in his lean-to, so Abigail says. She says he doesn't look too well and is walking kind of slow with the rain and cold snap we've been having. I guess he is kind of old, at least a year or two older than Cit. Good Lord, I'm praying that before winter really comes, something better will happen around here, and all the poor people can live better than they do no matter what they think about owning people.

The CSA won't be coming through to get Jack Fairless, though. He's been shot and killed. The word that came out at Job's wagon-shop is that Jack's whole crowd was celebrating with a lot of white lightning one night after a big raid, and they had a couple of women came back with them. They say that his top sergeant – I don't know his name – said something that made Jack mad, and Jack played the fool and ordered that the sergeant be hung. Well, word is that the sergeant didn't know if Jack was fooling or crazy, but didn't wait to find out. They said he took his long gun and put a bullet right through Mr. Fairless's ears. So that is that. They said the Union men came up from Plymouth and gave him a military burial, but that they didn't really act too unhappy about his accident.

The folks say that when the Unionists told the sergeant and all the rest of the men it was time to pack up and move on down to Plymouth and be some real help against the CSA, that every one of them either skulked or quick-timed into the woods, and not one of them turned up in Plymouth. So much for the buffaloes.

Do you think we should laugh or cry?

Your brother James

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Harrellsville
November 15, 1863

To: Isaac Pierce, Co. G, 31st Infty:

Dear Isaac:

After listening to Mr. Pool ranting and raving, I think I should stop worrying you with the little things that keep going on around here, but now I have some things that I really feel like I must let you know of. First off, Milly's leaving with all five of their kids. I'm kind of scared to put this down on paper, but I don't think it will hurt anything because I won't let it get out of my hand until after she gets away.

I really don't know how it happened – it didn't come from Mr. Adolphus – who is still hiding at the creek, but somebody got word to Milly from Cit. That sounds kind of odd, because I don't feel like Milly would do what she is doing just on somebody else's word. Anyway, somehow Milly got word from Cit that she should go down to the riverbank with the kids, meet some friendly blue-boys and get on their boat to Plymouth. It must be word from somebody that she really trusts, and I've been pondering if it might be Cit himself, but I feel like if he's wandering around down here he'd get in touch with somebody else, too.

I went to see her after Abigail told me, and Milly told me herself that she soon would be gone and told me not to worry and not to tell anybody else until after she and the kids took off. I told Job, and he told me to do just like she said, so I'm not telling anybody else but you.

It might be that Cit is rambling around down here himself, and maybe he is scared that there are still seceshes on this side of the county and maybe he doesn't know how friendly we've been getting with some of the blue-coats. I could guess that he's got a good right to be scared, because of what we're hearing that the CSA is doing to deserters. Word at the wagon-shop is that the CSA Gen'l Pickett is mad fit to split about the deserters, and we heard but can't hardly believe that 22 ~ 22, mind you ~ 22 boys were hung before breakfast over at Kinston a couple of weeks ago, all at one time on one big gallows, because they had quit the CSA and joined up with the northerners.

The blue-boys from Plymouth are saying now that the USA generals got mad about that death circus, and that they have orders not to let any more "galvanized Yankees" ~ that's blue-coats that used to be gray-coats ~ get too close to the front lines where the CSA can get its hands on them. They say they've been told to use them in the rear regiments for work and supply and try not to let them get where they can get captured and hung. I don't know what they're doing about the colored regiments, but I expect those fellows would be on thin ice too, because I don't think any of the CSA is going to take kindly to getting shot at by coloreds in blue uniforms. If they are caught, I don't guess they would even live long enough to get to the formality of a hanging.

Anyway, somebody she trusts has got Milly ready to put everything she and the kids can carry into tow-sacks and drag them down to the river, where they say a boat is going to get them down to Plymouth. She says she has been told that the people down at Plymouth would take care of her and the kids and would know how to help them link up with Cit somewhere further down the road. To me, that sounds like Cit is in on it and is already on his way. If he is, I wish him the best, but I'm sorry he couldn't get around to see mama and Abigail before all this takes place. Mama is real quiet and resigned about the grandchildren going. Sgt. Brown has told Abigail not to worry one minute. We're praying to God they will be all right.

There is worry everywhere. And I have come right up against that big black door in the middle of that big black wall in the middle of the fields. I've got to go through it. I've had a little look at some of what might be on the other side, but I still really don't know what is best.

I know I have to do something right quick. I hope we meet again.

Your brother James

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This Week's Verse

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Alas, our pleasant moments fly
on rapid wings away,
while those recorded with a sigh,
mock us by long delay.

Time ~ envious time ~ loves not to be
in company with mirth,
but makes malignant pause to see
the work of pain on earth.

(Edward Coote Pinkney. 1802-1828)

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This Week's Definition

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WAR (noun)

A byproduct of the arts of peace.
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(Ambrose Bierce)

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This Week's Mailbox

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...... I always enjoy the fine newsletters, pictures, poetry, articles, and the mailbox responses from readers (in The Poor Town News) ...... Today, when I read #42, "I Ain't Gonna Fight Agin' Abe Lincoln," I had to write and let you know how much this story was enjoyed ...... The humor, the beautiful picture of the snowman, and the all-familiar blizzard of 2000 fit so well. ~ Elizabeth Harvey, Sunbury NC.

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...... Thanks for this story (on Whid Newsome's ice wagon). It sure did bring back old memories of when we lived (in Ahoskie) on Church Street. ~ Rose Nell D. Perry.

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...... I'm reading every word (of The Poor Town News) ...... You're doing a great job. Hope to write something for you real soon. ~ Don Upchurch, Ahoskie.

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...... Thank you again for (The Poor Town News). Having lived all my life so close to Poor Town, I never knew so much history was (around here). When I was in school, one of my favorite subjects was history ...... But I am enjoying your writing much better. You should have been a history teacher ...... Tell Becky hello. ~ Joe Dickerson, Murfreesboro.

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...... Thank you for another fine story ...... I just love that Royal T. ~ Norma, Florida.

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...... I remember very well Uncle Whid's ice truck. We used to get ice, too. He always gave us ice chips, and boy, they were so good back in those hot summer days. Keep up the good work. ~ Doris, Ahoskie.

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...... I loved the story about not fighting against Abe Lincoln. Whatta guy! ...... Never was good at geography. Is there a Murphysboro in NC also? I must admit to getting confused as to identifying in what state some of the action described in these letters and news articles has occurred. I get mixed up as to whether we are in Tennessee, West Virginia or North Carolina. Will admit to being an ignoramus and would appreciate being enlightened. Thanks. ~ Aggie Green, Traverse City, Northern Michigan.

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