Mt. Beulah and the Read Family

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used with permission.  Any reproduction of the story in any form or in
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Text from an Article published in THE COMMERCIAL APPEAL paper in 
September 1926 written by Mrs. Ida Barlow Trotter. Describes her 
memories of a place called Mt. Beulah, located in Edwards Township, 
Hinds County, Mississippi. Includes description of Antebellum life in 
Mississippi as well as family experiences during the Civil War. Also 
includes some genealogical information about the family. 

Background information about the Mt. Beulah and the READ family that 
lived there.

THE COMMERCIAL APPEAL 
September 1926 
Mrs. Ida Barlow Trotter 

I have read what your Jackson readers said about the old home of Mr. 
McKinney L. Cook, near Edwards, MS. I am told by my children that I 
live mostly in the past and I do; therefore what the reporter had to 
say about "Mt. Beulah" was just another door that opens into the hall 
of my memory, where I can see hanging the pictures of people and scenes 
I knew in the years of "Long Ago". 

With the youngest daughter, Laura, at that home, I was wont to romp and 
play all over that great old home.  In the days we knew no cares and 
before the war clouds of the "Rebellion" hovered over our beloved 
southland.  We played all over that place, up and down that spacious 
hall, in _____ beautiful parlor, where the older ____ like to show us 
off -- to their ___ -- in the large dining room with its snow-white 
sand upon the floor, as was the custom in those homes. 

Out upon the lawn where the great ____ spread above us, down by the 
_____ where we loved to watch the _____, in the back yard where were 
______ of little black piccaninnies.  My fathers' home was near the 
Cook home, their slaves had intermarried and a well-beaten path led 
from one home to the other.  The masters of the two homes were lifelong 
friends, the sons grew to manhood together. 

The daughters had their parties together, Mary, the oldest daughter, 
afterward Mrs. W. T. Ra____ of Raymond, was my mother's maid of honor 
at her wedding.  My mother was named Elvira Read, one of the Cook girls 
was named Elvira also.  She was married to Captain William Smith, my 
mother to Arthur K. Barlow. 

I have heard that all the little nieces and nephews called these two 
young matrons "Aunt Bye and Aunt ___".  The servants also said "Young 
Miss Bye and Young Miss Vie". 

I was the only girl in my family, but had two older brothers, James and 
Thaddeus, who grew to manhood with the Cook boys.  I can remember when 
young McKinney went to South America. We all felt like to had gone to 
the very end of the earth. 

My mother was my father's second wife, and there were years of 
difference in the ages of the older Cook children and the younger ones, 
who were friends of mine and my brother Walter.  The youngest girl, 
Laura, afterwards Mrs. Zack Wardlow, was my little friend, but since 
our marriage we have lived so far apart, I have only seen her once. 

In slave time it was the custom for each father to give to each child 
when they married one or more slaves as a wedding present. 

When my mother married my grandfather gave her Harriet and her 
children.  My mother died when I was five years old.  It was also the 
custom for all motherless or fatherless children to have guardians.  
Mr. Cook's son-in-law, Capt. William Smith, was appointed my guardian 
and my mother's slaves were sent to Mrs. Smith, who paid us rent for 
their labor. Two of them were allowed to go with us to our 
grandmother's home where we were reared. Our father was married the 
third time and we never lived with him again but once a year had a 
month's visit with our step-mother and our little brother, Benjamin.  
After going to my grandmother's I only saw my friend Laura Cook on 
Sundays at the old Liberty Church, where we all worshipped and where 
our grandparents, our brothers and sisters, our parents and many other 
relatives now lie buried in the old churchyard. 

My last pilgrimage to the old home town and to that old cemetery, was 
about 20 years ago, but fond memories of the olden days still come to 
me and I often long to see my old friends and the land of my birth, 
where as a child I grew to young girlhood amidst the fearful turmoil, 
distress and heartaches of those lamentable days called the Civil War. 
Should I write a book it could not contain the many experiences and 
perils we had to endure during those years and the awful climax known 
now as "The Siege of Vicksburg". 

We were so close to Grant's headquarters that the northern soldiers 
were daily in our home, from the west and the southern soldiers from 
the east. 

There had been battles all around us.  Our beloved capital city, 
Jackson, had been laid in ruins.  Raymond, Baker's Creek, and 
Champion's Hill all go down in history as scenes of carnage.  The 
northern forces then settled down about Vicksburg like a hive of angry 
bees. Only our, old men, our women and children were left at home. 
Every male who was strong enough to shoulder a gun was gone to the 
front to fight for the principles that we of the southern states held 
sacred.  Our lives were in constant danger and we lived in mortal 
dread.  One morning a squad of Grant's men rode up to my father's gates 
and asked if he had seen any "rebs" as they called any southern men.  
My father had seen none, so they rode on toward town to the east. 

A short distance from the house they were encountered with a volley of 
shot from some of our men who were in ambush in some deep gullies in 
front of our home.  Several men were killed and some wounded.  They 
were brought into our house until an ambulance could be sent out from 
headquarters on the banks of Big Black River.  The northern soldiers 
were so enraged with my father, saying he had known the "rebs" were 
hidden in the gullies, when in truth they had hidden down the gully and 
had not passed our gate at all. 

As soon as the dead and wounded were taken away the enemy set fire to 
our home and told my father he would be killed if he was at the place 
at sundown.  He was without a coat or hat and not a thing from the 
house could be taken out.  All the outhouses were burned and even the 
chicken coops were thrown into the blaze. 

Leaving his home a smoldering mass of ashes, my father, stepmother and 
little brother walked into town and secured a conveyance to take them 
to my grandfather's, five miles from town.  As my grandfather was much 
opposed to the secession of the states from the Union the northern men 
had favored him by not burning his home, but had burned his gin house 
in which he had stored the cotton from three years' crops.  They had 
taken all of his slaves, his horses, mules, cattle, sheep, hogs and 
chickens, in fact everything that they could take away, except our 
clothing and furniture.  Many of the hogs had been left in the woods 
and these were our only means of food except what my grandmother had 
hidden away, as thousands of cavalry horses had been turned into our 
gardens, orchards and into our growing crops.  In time we had to draw 
our rations from the army commissary, just as the soldiers did, as we 
were now prisoners of the army of the north.  Each Saturday my old 
grandfather, my father, who was also too old for service in the war, 
went into the enemy's camp and drew what they all owed us for the next 
week. 

We had never eaten such food and the hardship was great.  It consisted 
of fat meat, hard tack, a little flour and coffee.  The meal had worms 
in it, the hard tack had weevils in them.  My grandmother soaked the 
hardtack in water and fried it in the grease that came out of the meat.  
They drank the coffee without sugar. 

When the gin house was burned, the two men took long poles with forks 
on the end and fished out 18 bales of the burning cotton.  This they 
rolled into the creek nearby and later hid it away in the woods. 

Sometime after, when we were almost starved, the two old men put one 
bale of this cotton on an old cart that had been left and dragged it 
into Yankee camp and sold it for a good price.  When they reached home 
with a few things they had bought in the town, they hid the money in a 
secret drawer in a dresser in my grandmother's room.  Before night two 
men, who had evidently seen grandfather receive this money, came to our 
house, and placing a pistol to the old gentleman's temple, said "Hand 
out that money, old man."  Grandmother had large rolls of Confederate 
money in her wardrobe, so she gave the men a lot of that.  They seemed 
satisfied although the money was worth nothing.  We expected them to 
return, but they did not. 

One day the advance guard came into our yard and told us to vacate the 
place as the line of battle would be drawn through our yard. 

Grandmother got her knitting and the two old people took their seats on 
the front porch and said: 

"Come on, gentlemen.  I will die, where I have lived."  The line of 
battle, however, was put down below the garden in an old field.  We all 
sat about.  We saw the flash of the first cannon.  We heard the 
bellowing of the great guns.  We saw the tops of trees cut off, and 
trees splintered into shreds.  We heard the shrieks of dying and 
wounded men, and the yells of the commanding officers. 

After the battle was over, our house and all houses nearby were turned 
into hospitals, and everybody was expected to do their part.  Those who 
died were some of them buried nearby, some taken away.  The wounded 
were cared for by my grandmother, aunts and all of us did what we 
could.  I was deputized to keep the sick in drinking water, and to keep 
the flies off them with our great peafowl fly brush.  I cannot remember 
if all those poor fellows were our own men or Yankees or both.  I only 
know we did all we could for them.  Some were with us for days, some 
for weeks.  Inside the city the fighting was fierce.  Every man, 
woman and child was doing his part.  Some were packed away in caves dug 
in the sides of hills, old people and little ones, here they languished 
from the heat, and lack of food. Brave ones were doing their best to 
rout the enemy, who had destroyed all they had.  For 47 days they were 
exposed to the elements.  They were cut off from all help, as the city 
was surrounded by all sides, but even if it had been, there was nothing 
in the country to send them.  Hunger, and death from bullets was the 
inevitable. 

We have heard they had eaten the flesh of horses, mules, dogs, cats, 
frogs, of anything they could find. 

There was left, only the gaunt human creatures, who stared at each 
other with bloodshot eyes, and parched lips. 

We were in the enemy's power and never knew what would be our fate. 

Before things had gotten so bad, we had hidden everything we could.  We 
had some shingles taken from the roof of the back porch and many things 
put up there, all of our silver and jewelry was packed in boxes and hid 
in holes dug under our parlor.  Grandmother had put a layer of hams 
between two mattresses on a bed in one of the bedrooms, so we could get 
them easily when wanted. 

____________ whern was knew the Yankees were about one of my aunts was 
instructed to lie in bed and feign sickness.  I stood by her with a 
fan. 

My cousin, Miss Bettie Read, was not so patient -- she spent much time 
doing what she could to aggravate the enemy.  This kept my old mother 
and our grandparents in a state of constant uneasiness for fear we 
would all be killed or our house burned.  One night a little colored 
maid came in and said:  "Miss Bettie, dem Yankees is sleepin' on your 
pianner." 

The young lady bounced in the parlor and ordered them to dismount--for 
two men were sprawled out on top of the great square piano--they got 
down and one said:  "We will if you will play some for us." 

She said:  "I will not play for you, but I will play for the two 
Confederate prisoners you have over there." 

Men were lying on the sofa, floor, and many were asleep, but she sat on 
the piano stool and began to play--one of the men came up and stood by 
to turn her music--when she noticed a beautiful diamond ring on his 
finger. 

She told him she knew he had stolen it from some southern girl.  He 
said:  "You can have it if you can get it off my finger."  She told him 
to give her his knife and opening a blade she whacked on his finger and 
the blood flew. 

He said:  "I believe you want to kill me."  But she said:  "No, not 
you--but I would like to kill Captain Chambers."  He unbuckled his belt 
and handed her his pistol and said:  "He is on the porch, go kill him."  
Her mother passed the door and saw her daughter with the pistol and 
screamed.  She took the young lady by the hand and led her upstairs, to 
her room. 

Upon one occasion a crowd of Yankees were in the house and yard, one 
walked in the room where my make-believe sick aunt was lying, 
protecting what hams we had left. 

One of our own servants was following the man--a boy we had reared as a 
dining room waiter. 

He said:  "Come on boss, I'll show you the pantry, where the goodies 
are." 

My aunt jumped from the bed and grabbed an old musket my uncle left at 
home.  She snatched out the rusty bayonet and struck the Yankee on the 
shoulder.  He rushed outside and we all thought our time had come, that 
we would all be murdered, but after a talk with one of the officers my 
grandfather came in and told my aunt to behave herself and we heard no 
more about it. 

One night several Yankees came in with a Confederate prisoner and told 
us they would shoot him at 9 o'clock.  My grandmother begged for his 
life, but to no avail.  The poor doomed man gave grandmother his 
overcoat and an army shawl, and at 9 he was led out toward the old gin 
house and out of the darkness we heard the report of the gun that sent 
his soul into eternity. 

One afternoon I was in the yard gathering blue bells when I heard a 
groan and saw a dying man lying by our gate.  I do not remember what 
army he belonged to, but for years and maybe until yet the odor of a 
blue bell would make me feel as if I would faint.  I could ramble on 
and tell of many scenes and horrible times we had in those awful days, 
but the most tragic occurrence that took place in our neighborhood was 
with the family of Mr. Cook, but not Mr. McKinney Cook, whom I first 
spoke of in this paper. 

They were not even related, but this Mr. Cook also owned many slaves 
and evidently some of them had told the Yankees something that angered 
them, for at night they came and killed every member of that family 
except one little boy about three years old.  This child crept under 
his dead mother's hoop skirt and was not seen.  Neighbors found out 
what had taken place from some of the servants, and took the little 
child.  This little boy has for many years been a physician in 
Vicksburg and one of his daughter's, Genivieve McBee, lives in 
Greenwood, Miss. 

Straggling soldiers had told us of what conditions were inside the 
city, where death and destruction reigned.  Starving creatures with 
only rags hanging to them were trying to escape the enemy.  They had 
given all they had but a feeble claim on life for their country.  This 
they were willing to give up also, but our generals said, "No, we must 
give up," and on July 4, Vicksburg was given over into the hands of 
Gen. Grant and his army. Then the death blow fell upon our beloved 
Confederacy for those in authority knew that all hope was vain and the 
cause for which our brave men had given their lives was lost. 

For days and weeks we endured the pitiful sight of seeing our men who 
were left straggling home.  There were no trains for them to ride on, 
their horses had been taken, and with bare feet and partly naked, they 
came in a steady stream.  We had little but shelter and water to give 
them but the poor fellows were still afraid and would only stop long 
enough for water, until they were out of the Yankee lines, and many a 
one fell by the wayside. 

One by one our own boys came home.  My brother James fell at Malvern 
Hill; Bob died in camp, Charles lay in a Federal prison for months 
before he was sent home.  Robert came with one arm gone; Joe came with 
one leg; John, Alex and William were unharmed.  Capt. Barkley, my 
cousin Bettie's sweetheart, was killed at Selma, Ala.  Oh!  The widows, 
the fatherless children, the brokenhearted girls, the white-haired 
mothers and fathers, but dearest of all were the noble, battle-scarred, 
defeated, but not conquered men, that were left after that awful 
slaughter called "The Siege of Vicksburg". 

But I started out to talk of the old "Mt. Beulah," the home of my 
father's friend, that grand old man McKinney L. Cook, and here I have 
wandered, as all old people do, and have told you of the days, that 
even at this late date fill our souls with sorrow and heartaches.  I am 
old and gray, my once soldier boy husband gone many years ago, one son 
in the U.S. army 25 years gone, one other son gone.  Yes, I am growing 
old, but I have to sit and ponder on those old days when I was young 
and thank God for all the blessing He has given me, and some day I hope 
to fall asleep, dreaming of the beautiful lights I see shining up the 
King's Highway. 

Winona, Miss., June 26 


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