Newspaper Page Text
The following is a copy of a
record written in 1935 for
Annadawn Watson Edwards
by her grandmother, Mary
Buttrill Watson. For many
years Mur toid this story to
me so that I became familiar
with it. As my children began
to study and to ask questions
about their grandparents I
asked Mur to write her story
for them. It is from her
manuscript copy of nearly
twelve years ago that I copy
the following. I have found
that the other grandchildren
of Mur did not have the rare
and wonderful privilege of
close association with her
that I enjoyed as a child.
However, I feel that the
history and the traditions of
the family should be told to
their children as well as to
mine. So, just as several
years ago I made
copies of the Buttrill
Tree which Mur sent to me,
and sent back to Mur to send
to the grandchildren, I am
now copying this, that
generations following after
you and me may have some
first hand knowledge of our
family. It is a labor of love
for Mur, whom to know was
to love.
MUR’S STORY
Nov. 17, 1864, now 74
years ago (1935)
After the battles in Atlanta,
Ga. and Jonesboro we began
to hear rumors that Sher
man’s vast army was coming
thru middle Ga. So we people
at Jackson, Ga. began to try
to prepare. My father, Asa
Buttrill, had two large
wagons packed with valu
ables, food and clothing, and
started them on to Macon,
Ga. the 16th of Nov. , 1864.
He, riding horseback, went
with them. My aunt, Miss
Emma Manley, came to my
home, Sylvan Grove. On the
16th my brother with 5 other
15-year old boys of a cavalry
company stationed in Macon
were sent up to find if
possible, which route Sher
man was going to take. They
arrived at Sylvan Grove at
sundown. My mother had a
lovely supper prepared for
them. After enjoying it,
Mother had them go upstairs
and retire for a good rest,
telling them she would keep
watch. She had their horses
well groomed, watered, fed,
rebridled and saddled, and
tied to the back of the house
to mount at a moment’s
notice.
After midnight, at three
o’clock, she had a lovely
breakfast prepared, called
the boys, —Taylor Buttrill,
Walter Beeks, Taylor John
son, Manson Manley, Joe
W’oodward, Ben Barham.
The rumblings of Sherman’s
immense wagons were then
plainly heard. The boys
enjoyed their breakfast and
were soon on their horses and
making their way rapidly
back to Macon. My brother
and uncle remained behind
hidden on their horses, in the
orchard on the south side of
the home. My pair of black
Kentucky horses, Sam and
Henry, were hitched to my
handsome phaeton champing
their bits, eager to go. (That
phaeton and horses were
presented to me by my father
at the Synodical Female
College at Griffin, Ga.
the day I graduate.) My
father at the Synodical
Female College at Griffin,
Ga. the day I graduated.) My
aunt, my two attending
maids, Martha and Mandy,
and I were going to Macon
with my brother and uncle,
with a crippled Confederate
soldier driving us. (Ben
Drake, my mother had
nursed him two years to
health.)
Just before we were ready
to start, while bidding my
mother goodbye, up rode to
our front gate 500 Yankees,
at a furious rate, dressed in
gray to deceive us. They
called to our butler, Stephen,
saying “Where is your
master?”
“Gone”, answered
Stephen.
“Where is your mistress?”
“In her room, sir.”,
Stephen answered.
“Ask her to come to the
door”.
Mother went to the door.
“Madam, where are
Forest and Wheeler?” (our
largest cavalry co.)
Mother replied, “I do not
know, sir”.
“Madam, don’t tell me a
lie”.
She replied, “Sir, I’d have
you to know I am a Southern
Lady.”
No more was said. Mother
thought it best for us to go on
to the city, so we, (my aunt,
Martha, Mandy and I walked
out, getting into the phaeton,
with Ben Drake driving. The
grove in front of the house
was full of Yankees on
horesback. They were the
advance guard of Sherman’s
army. They said nothing to
us.
We drove rapidly for ten
miles to the Ocmulgee River.
We passed my father riding
horesback beside the two
loaded wagons. We crossed
the river and drove one mile
to the top of the hill in front of
Stephen Johnson’s house,
there was a large shade tree
and a well of water there, so
we stopped to eat lunch and
water the horses. My brother
and Uncle had ridden along
beside us. After we had eaten
I walked out into the road and
looked back toward the river.
I saw on the hill on the
opposide side of the river
hundreds of Yankees on
horseback. I cried out “My.
My. Saddle your horses and
leave here quickly.” Turning
to Ben I said “Cut Henry, the
saddle horse loose from the
phaeton and save yourself.”
“No, ma’m, he said,
leaping on to the phaeton and
lashing the horses to a
furious rate as he called, “If
this war ever ends you’ll see
Ben with Sam and Harry
drive up to Sylvan Grove.”
It was but a short time till
hundreds of Yankees came at
great speed to where Aunite,
Martha, Mandy and I were
standing, by the roadside,
one said. “Madam, where
are those dam rebels that
were here with you?” I said,
“Sir, they are gone”.
The road leading on had a
dense forest on each side, the
limbs of the trees meeting
over the road. A short
distance from where we
stood the road forked, one
road going to the north to
Covington, the other to
Macon. Mandy at this time
rushed up the north road
screaming loudly, “Come
back, Master, Come back
and give up, these men are
shooting everywhere. Come
back. Come back.”
The Yankees rushed up the
road the way she went, for
some ten miles before they
returned, cursing Mandy, for
they realized she had
deceived them. She surely
saved her Master’s life, for
they were shooting as they
went, hundreds of shots.
After some thirty minutes
they were a little more quiet.
“Is there a gentleman in this
crowd who will give us
protection? The lady in this
house says she can’t take us
in, for you will burn her
house if she takes in
refugees.”
One man on a gray horse
dismounted, and said, “Ma
dam, I will give you
protection at the risk of my
life. I have a mother and a
sister. What will you have me
do?”
“If you please”, I answer
ed, “Take us to the highest
officer you can, and ask
protection for us.”
“Can you ride a horse?” he
asked.
I answered, “Oh, yes, I can
ride, but my aunt cannot so
we will walk”.
He walked with us for
about a mile, leading his
horse thru the woods. The
roads were deep in red mud
after a rain. He took us to
Gen. George E. Spencer’s
tent by the Ocmulgee
River. Our silk travel
ling dresses were torn
in shreds by our walk thru
the woods. Gen. Spencer
bowed kindly to us and said,
“Ladies, you look as if you
needed dresses as well as
protection.”
The advance guard had
captured our two wagons and
my father as they arrived at
THE JACKSON PROCRESS-ARGUS, JACKSON, GEORGIA
Civil War Experiences in Butts Cos.
the river flat, where Nut
ting’s factory was located,
and his many, many cottages
occupied by his factory
hands; there the Yankees
bursted open our trunks and
packages, took what they
wanted and gave the rest to
the factory hands. Gen.
Spencer saw it all, so he went
into the houses and politely
asked them to give us our
clothes. They denied having
any, so he said, “It takes a
rogue to catch a rouge”, and
went in and threw their beds
off. They were our nice
dresses ,_ cloaks, shawls,
underwear, apparel of all
description. The general
ordered a hack, and put into
it all he could find. He put us
in a hack and driving it
himself he said, “I will drive
you up the road and find a
house for you.” The first
house we came to was a two
room log cabin. A Mrs.
Fears, two tiny children, and
an old mother occupied it.
Gen. Spencer called and
asked “Will you take in two
ladies and their two maids?”
The lady replied, “No sir.
The Yankees will burn my
house if I do”.
The general replied, “I will
burn it damn quick if you
don’t take them in”. So we
were taken in. Her little
cabin was spotless. She had
two beds, two chairs and
several stools.
Gen. Spencer said,
Madam, I will put a guard of
forty men around your home.
I will have the fire kept up
day and night. Your fowls in
your chicken house and your
fat hogs shall not be taken. I
will feed the two ladies and
their two maids.”
Three' times a day he and
his cook brought delicious
meals. Of course he had
access to the chickens, meat
houses, pantries and dairies
of all the houses in the
vicinity. The General
brought a little folding table
to us. Auntie sat in one chair,
I in the other. Manda sat on
the floor beside me with her
head in my lap to sleep a
little. Martha sat by Auntie.
All the sleep Auntie and I had
was to rest our head on each
other’s shoulder and MY! I
can never tell our troubles
and distress. We wondered
what General Spencer was
going to do with us, why he
was so kind to us. Occasional
ly a rough soldier would slip
in and gaze at us, though
General Spencer forbade it.
One came into the house. The
old mother was sitting on a
stool by the side of the fire
smoking her pipe. He said,
“You look damn happy,
sitting there smoking your
pipe”.
“Yes, sir”, she replied.
“We southland folk are like a
goose. You may pick us clean
as you please. We will
feather next spring.” He
might have said more but
General Spencer was coming
up the walk and he slipped
out the back quickly.
There was a red clay,
muddy hill in front of the
cabin. Yankees and negroes
would ride up and down the
road with fifteen yards of our
silk wound round the horses.
I saw my mother’s handsome
crepe shawl spread over a
horse with the beautiful
fringe dragging the ground;
my brother’s broadcloth
suits on negro boys, strutting
and flaunting themselves up
and down the road.
My father was captured
when the wagons were taken.
The Yankees took his hat,
overcoat, and horse. They
searched him and swore they
were going to hang him, but
finally they turned him loose.
They called loudly several
times passing the cabin
where I was saying, “That
old white devil of a judge
from Jackson is dangling
from a limb over Ocmulgee
River.”
I, of course supposed he
was hanged until one night at
twelve o’clock I was sitting
by the fire in that little cabin.
I was by the window about
twelve inches square with a
wooden shutter. I pushed it
open and was looking out,
wondering what would be our
fate. I saw an old, stooped
man coming toward the
window. He came close and
stood close in the chimney
corner for some time. Then
he raised his hand up to the
window and droDDed a note
into my lap. I at once
recognized my father’s
splendid handwriting. He
wrote, “Dear, Mary, they
have turned me loose after
robbing me; knowing the
country as I do I will go
through the woods back
home to your mother. I saw
the advance guard of Sher
man’s army coming and
gave my watch, chain, and
pocketbook to the old man
who is taking you this note,
Asa Buttrill
My! My! that was a relief,
though we were suffering and
wondering about our fate.
Soon after Sherman’s ad
vance guard arrived at my
home, Sylvan Grove, Gen.
Blair and his staff arrived
and came at once into the
house, and occupied my
parlor. He had a guard of
many men around that
corner of the house. Army
wagons and many men
arrived and put up tents
across the road in front of the
house. Sylvan Grove farm
being so well watered by two
big creeks over which the
road crossed and two large
springs, made it a desirable
place to camp. Groups of
men entered the house,
bursting open the closets,
pantries, safes, going into all
the rooms upstairs, and
down, breaking up furniture
WE’RE
CELEBRATING TOO
j
150 YEARS OF SERVICE
A CHURCH BLESSED BY GOD
A CHURCH BLESSING ITS MEMBERS
JACKSON
PRESBYTERIAN
CHURCH
Rev. David Bevilie, Pastor
and throwing it out, leaving
every room empty except my
mother’s and the parlor
which Gen. Blair and his
staff occupied. But he let mv
life work of art be destroyed.
The parlor walls were
covered with my paintings,
oils, water colors and india
ink. Not one was left. My
mother’s loyal colored
women were in her room
with her. Mother looked out
her window and said, “Rose,
it is snowing”. “No, Mistis.
The men are upstairs ripping
open your pillows and feather
beds to see the feathers fly”.
Othftr groups of men were
outside the house burning the
cotton, the gin house, garden
pailings, killing hogs, sheep,
cows, leaving many with one
joint cut out, lying around the
house and in the road. Other
groups went in to Jackson,
burning the court house, jail,
and all mercantile houses, all
farming implements, enter
ing homes and taking all they
wanted. They continued this
pillage all the way through
Butts County to the Ocmul
gee River, leaving no live
stock or farming imple
ments. Wagons, buggies, all
were burned. Several hun
dred horses they did not want
were shot. The finest horses
they took with them.
While at Sylvan Grove they
took from my mother’s little
five year adopted daughter
the only article she had that
belonged to her dead mother,
THURSDAY, JULY 1, 1976
—a handsome ebony work
box fitted with solid gold
accessories. Though Katie
pleaded for it a rough man
snatched it from her arms,
dashed it against a tree,
breaking it to splinters. He
picked up the gold articles
and put them into his pocket.
After the vast army passed
on General Spencer stayed
with us at the log cabin for
three hours, his handsome
conveyance at the front door
with his driver waiting for
him. My! We were so
alarmed, wondering what it
meant. He gave us a
beautiful horse to get home
with, and when he rose to go
he offered to shake my hand,
and said, “Madam, I was
captivated at first sight.
Your aunt is the most
charming, beautiful lady I
ever met.” He asked Auntie
if she would answer his
letters. She said she would.
He wrote her for two years,
begging to come to see her,
sent her lovely books and
flowers, but he never won
her.
Soon after this Gen.
Spencer left us. Captain
Watson, who was on his
mother’s plantation across
the Ocmulee River from us
(he had lost his left leg at
the knee, and was there
recuperating) came driving
up in an ox cart that had
escaped the yanks, to take us
home. MY! My! How we
were thrilled and lost no time
climbing into that ox cart,
and thanking and praising
Capt. Watson for getting us
back home. We gee-hawed
for seven miles over dead
cow, horses, sheep, goats,
hogs, lying in the road. At the
end of seven miles we met
two Confederate boys who,
were home recuperating and
had hidden out, and saved
their horses and buggies, and
were hunting for us. They
were Dr. Tip Wilkerson and
Wiley Goodman. We bade
Captain Watson goodbye
with thousands of thanks,
and were soon at home at
Sylvan Grove.
But My! My! It was a sad
sight to drive up home and
see all the barn®,, cotton
houses, stables, cribs,
fences, and pailings burned
down; the house empty
except for Mother’s room,
and a few pieces of furniture
Gen. Blair had left in the
parlor. No bed, no cover, no
dishes, no cooking untensils,
all broken and lying in the
yard. We had not things to
eat for fourteen days except
scraps of potatoes picked up
in the Yankee camps by the
faithful servants, washed
and roasted, and a little corn
obtained in the same way.
The gardner, Uncle Mose,
dug dirt up from the
meathouse ground, boiled
and strained it until he got a
little salt. At the end of
fourteen days an uncle from
Heard County, Ga. came
with provisions. Friends
who had escaped the in
vading army helped.
My brother, Zachery Tay
lor Buttrill, and the boys
with him, upon reaching
Macon, found the city
already captured and sur
rounded by a Yabnkee guard.
Brother said, “Boys, you can
do as you like but no Yankee
will ever take me alive.”
After grooming and resting
his thoroughbred Kentucky
horse, he mounted, popped
his spurs to his horse’s sides
and leaped over a guard.
Five boys followed him.
When he reached Sylvan
Grove he was exhausted.
Two men servants took him
off his horse, into the house
and laid him on the one bed
of my mother’s.
We all sat up the two weeks
by big log fires, day and
night, taking turns resting in
the three chairs and the sofa
Gen. Blair had left in the
parlor.
Our good servants lived
and died with us. A big
number of young men went
with Sherman’s army, but
after arriving at- Savannah
wrote back to Father
“Please, Master, send us
money to come home.”
God helps them that help
themselves-- Benjamin
Franklin.