The Days of Julia Johnson Fisher

We have been startled at last by the appearance of a gunboat. The pickets ran in great terror. The negroes were sent over to Maj. Bailey’s. Mr. Fisher drove a cart load of trunks into the woods and then stationed himself where he could watch the doings of the enemy. Mrs. Linn, Sybil and myself were left to receive them. Mrs. Linn with her two children seated themselves on the front steps. Soon eight men came up and immediately surrounded the house, and inquired for Richardson. He fortunately had left that morning for Savannah. They could not take Mrs. Linn’s word but searched the house. Sybil ran down thinking that Mrs. Linn might be frightened, and met six more at the gate.

The result was that we were taken by the Gunboat with only a few moments warning, and sent North where we arrived (after 19 days cruising) on the 11th of September, 1864.

Kate and family have gone to Valdosta to visit her mother. It is lonely without her. We went over yesterday for the mail, but heard nothing from the boys. It is monotonous here. I have no spirit to write. Some days we are very desponding. It seems as if we should never meet with our friends again. I hope we may have patience to wait. Mr. Linn has been home on a week’s furlough. His baby was four months old before he had a sight of it. It is a pretty child. Called Arthur Stuart. Ed Richardson’s foot is still very bad, but he is obliged to show himself in Savannah once in thirty days. He is going again tomorrow. It is two days journey to the cars and he has nothing but a cart to go in.

Last night a small boat came up the river. The enemy landed and burned up the house that the pickets occupied–they are supposed to be deserters from across the river. The pickets in their fright ran to warn Maj. Bailey but left us in happy ignorance until morning. We have heard two or three times from the boys. They were feeling well, but we are constantly anxious. The enemy are getting a strong hold on Georgia. We go to Kate’s twice a week for the mail. It is all the visiting and recreation that we have. She seems to enjoy it as well as we, and loads us down with good things. There is now here a new set of pickets, young boys from fourteen and up. They are abundantly supplied with melons from our garden. We have enough for ourselves and our neighbors. Were we near a market we could realize a handsome sum as they are selling from $5.00 to $10.00 but no one has any money now. The soldiers are gone, and besides they are receiving no pay.

Nothing further from the North. We look for letters in vain. Ed Richardson came home last month from Virginia with a wounded heel–a ball passed directly through it. Fred and Gussie have both gone to Tennessee to join Johnston’s army. They left the 1st of July. The whole regiment has gone and we are left to the mercy of the blockaders. We only number four men in a region of eight miles and they are lame and decrepit. Mr. Fisher is now confined to is bed with a bad abscess in his right breast. Suffers very much. If the enemy come and wish to take us, there is nothing to prevent them. We went over to Kate’s yesterday. She is complaining. Mrs. Smith with six children, and one at the breast, with a negro, came to pass Sunday with her–hope she will enjoy it.

After so long a time they send to us from Charleston that we cannot leave here unless we run the blockade. So we have permission to remain here until the war closes. We are getting very destitute of clothing, but it is useless to fear for the future. We may suffer, but many are already suffering. It is doubtless better for us to remain here at present under trying circumstances. We will hope for the best. Bailey returned last week on furlough to Kate’s great happiness. A seven days rain has kept us from going over.

Have been suffering the past week from a strain in my side. No letter yet from the North and no passport. The prospect is that we must stay another year. Mrs. Chappelle must be about starting.

Dined with Kate. She was disappointed at having no letter from Bailey

Went over for the mail and dined with Kate on bacon and string beans. A thunder shower came up and she sent us home in the buggy, with poor old Martha, the mule. Fred returned in the night.

Major Bailey sent over for my money as he is going to Atlanta to join the Army. I had the day previous sent $150.00 to Savannah to be returned in the new issue, but gave him an order to draw it if he wishes.

How rejoiced I am. Had a letter from Mary. I have held on to it nearly all day and read it I know not how many times–how can I stay here any longer? It is too irksome. If I could I would go today. We hear nothing from Savannah. It is foolish for me to write.