288 Chroneles of the Cape Fear Rwer

to the dead, they remained behind when many others had fled,
and nobly fulfilled the trust they had assigned themselves.
Many of them escaped, but some fell, and those from the ranks
of the most honored and esteemed citizens of the town. Rest
they well, and rest they calmly. They need no monument above

their tombs; that is to be found in the hearts of those who knew
them.”

War Prices In WILMINGTON.

As the war progressed the prices of food and clothing ad-
vanced in proportion to the depreciation of Confederate money ;
the plainest necessities were almost unobtainable—$50 for a
ham, $500 for a barrel of flour, $500 for a pair of boots, $600
for a suit of clothes, $1,500 for an overcoat, and $100 a pound
for coffee or tea, were readily paid as the fortunes of the Con-
federacy waned. Coffee was perhaps the greatest luxury and
was seldom used; substitutes of beans, potatoes, and rye with
“long sweetening’’—sorghum—having been generally adopted.
Within a mile or two of our temporary home in the country there
lived two unattractive spinsters of mature age, one of whom, in
the other’s absence, was asked by an old reprobate of some means
in the neighborhood to marry him, a preposterous proposal,
which she indignantly rejected. Upon the return of the absent
sister, however, she was made to feel that she had thrown away
the golden opportunity of a lifetime; for, said the sister, ““Didn’t
you know he has a bag of coffee in his house ?”’

Another true incident will also serve to illustrate the comic
side of the great crisis. Our evening meal consisted of milk,
rye coffee, yopon tea, honey, and one wheaten biscuit each, with
well-prepared corn muffins and hominy ad libitum. The bis-
cuit, however, were valued beyond price, and the right of each
individual to them was closely guarded by the younger members
of the family. One evening there appeared just before supper
an itinerant preacher, who was made welcome to the best we
had. Addressing himself with vigor to the tempting plate of
biscuit, and ignoring the despised muffins, which were politely
pressed upon him by the dismayed youngsters at his side, he
actually devoured the entire dozen with apparent ease and great
relish. Upon being informed at the hour of retiring that it
would be inconvenient to serve his breakfast at daylight, when
he desired to depart, he said, to our amazement, that, rather

The War Between the States 289

than disturb us in the early morning, he would take his break-
fast. then and there before going to bed. But there were no
more biscuit to serve.

SouTHERN Rar“tRoaps IN War TIMss.

The following incidents illustrating the physical condition of
the railroads in the South resulting from the incessant war
strain, which could not be remedied nor repaired because of in-
adequate facilities and lack of material, may be worth recording.

A few weeks after the termination of the four years’ war, I
was returning to our temporary home in Robeson County by
way of the Wilmington, Charlotte, and Rutherford Railroad,
now a part of the Carolina Central and Seaboard Air Line.
The track had been partly destroyed and the roadbed and roll-
ing stock were in a dangerous state of disruption and decay.
Our speed at five miles an hour was really perilous; during the
frequent stops, we were repeatedly passed by an old darkey
laden with farming implements, who preferred the footpath to
the rickety railroad train. To each and every invitation from
the passengers to get on the train as we overtook him, he politely
responded, “Much obleeged, Boss, but I hain’t got time.”

Captain Hobart, of the British Navy, who subsequently be-
came admiral-in-chief of the Turkish Navy, commanded the
blockade runner Don, and made eight or ten successful runs to
Wilmington. He describes in the following incident a railroad
trip to Charleston during the war.

“T determined this time to have a look at Charleston, which
was then undergoing a lengthened and destructive siege. So,
after giving over my craft into the hands of the owners’ repre-
sentatives in Wilmington, who would unload and put her cargo
of cotton on board, I took my place in the train, and after pass-
ing thirty-six of the most miserable hours in my life traveling
the distance of one hundred and forty miles; I arrived at
Charleston, South Carolina, or rather near to that city, for the
train, disgusted I suppose with itself, ran quietly off the line
into a meadow about two miles from the station. The passen-
gers seemed perfectly contented, and shouldering their baggage
walked off into the town. I mechanically followed with my
portmanteau, and in due course arrived at the only hotel, where

I was informed I might have half a room.
“Acting on a hint I received from a waiter that food was

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