Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.