The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-12-19
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A SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS.
DURING WAR TIMES.

This story of Christmas cheer is a genuine
reminiscence of a time now happily past, by
NINA FITcH, in Romance.
1t was quite the most expensive dinner
have ever eaten. Altogether, it cost us
exactly five hundred dollars-Confederate
money, tbs true, and fast becoming worth
less-many regrets and not few tears.
The last year of the war had come, and
as fast as the value of our money went
down the price of things went up. A
single pound of coffee meant twent-ive
dollars; beefsteak fifteen, turkey fifty,
and a barrel of -four two hundred; to say
nothing of such small things as needles
and pins coming to over five dollars a
paper; so, with these prices as gauge, it
is quite easy to imagine how the cost of a
simple little Christmas merry making
could mount up into the hundreds. The
rawest of damp winters was upon us, and
we, a shivering little family of Charleston
refugees, were penniless and alone in a
strange city. Some months before my
father had written from Morris Island,
"The Confederacy is on its last legs and
Charleston will probably be burned" We
were ordered straightway to Columbia.
Thither, two days later, my mother fled,
accompanied only by her little brood of
three, one faithful servant and her four
year old child; and there, for near winter
of sad weeks, we led doubtful and hand
to-mouth existence.
To begin with, it seemed to our home
sick hearts that these inland people were
made of different clay from us coast bred
folk Food was scarce and times grew
harder every day. First, the small sum of
money my mother had scraped together
before leaving Charleston was spent. Then,
piece by piece, our small stock of silver
was dug up out of the cellar, where, in
anticipation of yankees, it had been re-
ligiously buried, sold, and the proceeds
eaten up. At last came the saddest period
of all-when goodly stock of antiquated
finery was turned into food; when velvet
cloak meant so many bits of beef and
quarts of rice, and silk dress just such
a number of big wood fires; when We
existed entirely off the remains of a
once splendid European trousseau that had
served my mother some ten years before.
These things were bought by our well-to-
do neighbors, fashion loving ladies that the
continued war and interrupted Transports
ton had reduced to calico frocks and
venerable headgear and right cleverly did
they remodel those ancient garments to
suit the hideous styles of the day. re-
member one particular sky-blue silk dress
that had specially brilliant career
1t made its first appearance at a military
ball, disporting its charms on the back of our
doctors wife; in her turn, Mrs, Doctor sold
it to milliner, This lady, who must
truly have been great artist and inspired
in the bargain, resolved it into bonnets, the
dearth of which was Just at that moment
setting all feminine Columbia mad FASH
ioned the same shape, of an equal size, and
all trimmed with the same rosetts of the
blonde lace that had once ornamented the
dress, these freaks of war time ingenuity
were looked upon as marvels of loveliness
and sold like hot cakes, the frequent sight
of them in the streets causing us more
than one bitter pang. But, alas, there
came a day when everything was gone, not
SO much as rag Of millinery or a salt
spoon left to sell. No, not quite every
thing, for in dingy old trunk in my
mothers closet priceless treasure lay--a
wonderful thing with fabulous train, a
point lace gimp and huge angel sleeves,
smelling much of lavender aud little of
must, and all ticketed and labelled; ''For
Kit on her wedding day" And |, Miss
Catherine Calhoun Prescott (alias Exit
and aged nine), felt vastly important at the
sight of that label
Another emotion stirred my being when
touched those fast discoloring folds Of
satin-one of reverence, that at the sight
Of knot of dead orange blossoms turned
into awe; for, it seemed to me, it was in
deed a holy relic, something to be put
aside and worshipped in our family for
generations to come. But that bitter
Christmas Eve of GA there was no thought
of this treasure in my mind, My little
brain was busy with more prosaic things,
and first and foremost in my reveries came
the recollection Of once con6ding but
now stony hearted green grocer who had
shut down on US with an iron hand. True,
we still had decent roof over our heads
and enough hickory logs to keep us warm,
but these were not eatable things, and our
larder was as empty as the old lady's in
the nursery rhyme. There was not a