July 16, 1859, Augusta, Georgia

Dear Cousin Nellie,



I have nothing to say about your letter and its reception, except the bare mention of the fact that it was received. To admit -- (I am merely supposing a case now, and I specially protest against your construing this into an admission) to admit that I have derived any particular pleasure from its perusal and re-perusal, or that I had been rescued from one or two or twenty attacks of the blues, or that I prefer the penmanship, which you disparage, to any copybook imitations, even though the c's were beautiful curves with nice little round heads and the l's each as graceful as a sylph. (Now I know you will take me up on another count, and charge me with a malicious attack on your c's and l's.) To admit any of these things, or any other of a dozen or two supposable cases that occur to me, would only be subjecting myself to another charge of gross flattery. I can found no such charge on anything in this letter of yours against you I am sure -- first there is your accusation against me, anything but flattering -- to charge me with very delicate



(End of text)

January 9, 1859, Augusta, Georgia

Dear Beckie,



We have some cold weather now. Yesterday morning the ice out of doors was as thick as window glass and every body put on their flannel shirts and drawers and rolled themselves up in overcoats and blanket shawls and blowed into their fists and pinched their noses and punched up the fires and run up and down the streets, just as you do when the air is -20 degrees. And what's strange I could not stand the cold any better than the Augustans. I who have travelled all day without going near a fire on the coldest winter's day in Iowa, could not keep warm while I walked the half mile between the store and the house! When I came here I tho't that I could be comfortable in the coldest weather they ever have.



(Rest of letter torn off.)

Confederate Letters

When I was growing up in Mobile, we had a box of letters in the attic written by my great-grandfather and replies from some of his relatives. Those written during the Civil War were collected in a book by my high school history teacher, John Folmar, in the book From That Terrible Field. The move from Arlington, Virginia, to Lakewood, Colorado, via Warsaw, Poland, and Rome, Italy, took a toll on our effects. Some letters and other artifacts went missing, but I have found a few letters, which I will type up to give this blog some content.

Transplanted Southerner

I started this blog to let off some steam as a transplanted Southerner. I grew up in Mobile, Alabama, where my great-grandfather fought for the Confederacy. One of his last assignments was as commander of Fort Powell, one of three forts guarding the entrance to Mobile Bay against the Union fleet. Of course the Confederates were defeated by Admiral Farragut in the Battle of Mobile Bay. I moved from Mobile to spend most of my professional life in or around Washington, DC, mostly in Virginia. But now, I'm living in the "mountain west," in Colorado.



I'm a long way from the South now, and probably out of touch. I wanted the name "Gone with the Wind" for this blog, because that's my viewpoint, that there were a lot of good things about the old South that are now gone with the wind. But we shouldn't lose sight of them, or ignore them because of political correctness. I often tend to give in to political correctness, but I'm going to try not to on this blog.