I was 17 years old when the war commenced and had been married a year. We had a happy home in Camden, Ark. My husband, four brothers and two brother-in-laws joined the Confederate regiment that was made up there. They were in many battles, but none was killed or even wounded, except one, who received a flesh wound in his arm. With one exception, an old and broken down man, all are now dead.
My husband had been gone two years, and not hearing from him, I thought that he was dead. One evening I was weaving cloth. The loom house was about three feet above the ground and there were no steps. My ear, alert to every footstep, caught that of my husband. I jumped fully five feet to get to him. We were now happy for a time. His health was broken down and just as soon as he was able to handle a musket off he went again.
I was living across the Ouachita river when the Federals came to Camden. I had a good horse and hid him and everything else that could be carried away. A neighbor of mine was not so fortunate. She was a widow and her sons were in the Southern army.
I happened to be at her house one day when 200 Federals rode up. It was noon and they wanted dinner. The poor woman fed as many as she could. They went searching all over the place for meat, lard and breadstuffs. Then they tried to find the horses. They asked where her husband was and she told them that she was a widow. Then they wanted to know whether any of her boys were rebel soldiers, and when she replied "yes," they began cursing at a fearful rate.
That poor widow, believing that her last hour had come, fell upon her knees and poured forth such a prayer as I had never before or since heard. It moved those rough men so that some of them actually cried and they declared that the prayer would last them their lifetime. The whole troop soon left her in peace. Two of her sons died in the war and now she, too, has gone to her reward.