THE town of Fayetteville, North Carolina, although situated amid the piney woods, may be called a picturesque place. It is built on three natural terraces on the Cape Fear River, and the big Clarendon Bridge is the most conspicuous feature in the landscape and the only bridge on the river. Doubtless, the horses, if they could speak, would say the river hill was a very important consideration, as they have to haul all the merchandise brought to Fayetteville up its steep and often muddy though comparatively short ascent, but the inhabitants at large seldom see or think of it. I never saw the river at this point till the day “everybody” went to “see off” the two first companies that were raised in the county to join the Southern army. In my grandfather's day the town was really on the river, and the shabby old dilapidated buildings that still remain were the abode of the elite, but, like the course of empire, it has gradually taken its way westward, and one does not see a single substantial dwelling for half a mile, and not a store is to be seen until the second terrace is reached, nearly a mile from the river. The market is just at the top of this short steep ascent.

The second level extends about half a mile westward where Haymount begins to rise, or “The Hill” as it is called by the town people. The town is intersected by three large creeks, two of which are beautiful, clear and swift running streams, furnishing in ante-bellum days water power for a number of grist mills and three cotton factories. There were besides a carriage manufactory, known all over the South, besides turpentine distilleries and smaller workshops, which, including two other factories in the vicinity, gave us the notion that Fayetteville was quite a manufacturing town. The corporate limits were at the foot of Haymount, but practically “The Hill” settlement was a part of the town. It was laid off in streets and squares and the residents, my father being one, were almost without exception men doing business in town. Several of our largest dealers and most prominent lawyers lived there, and every morning early, numbers of one-horse rockaways might be seen conveying them down the hill to business, and their daughters to school. The handsome residence surrounded with flowers, immediately to the right as you left behind the town proper, was the home of the late E. J. Hale, editor of the Observer. On the hill were the most beautiful flower gardens and some of the handsomest houses; here also was the United States Arsenal.

The old original Arsenal, counted the handsomest collection of buildings the town could boast of, included three fine residences for the officials. The buildings were all painted cream-color, with brown trimming, and were arranged in a hollow rectangle with the citadel in the center. This was a large oblong three story building with an observatory on each end of the roof. The intervening grounds were laid out with walks and drives and set with grass and evergreens. Large oaks dotted it at intervals. The whole was surrounded by a high wall having a tower at each corner and surmounted by an iron railing. The powder magazines were outside the enclosure, in the rear, at a respectful distance. The Arsenal grounds were one square back from the main street, and fronted at right angles to it toward the east. The ground fell away rapidly to the south and east, giving it a commanding position in the direction of the river, about two miles off. The view from the citadel was very fine. The town lay at its feet and two very large ponds, they might be called lakes, sparkled in the sun to the south. Altogether we thought it a very pretty place. We brought our visiting friends here. 'Twas our central park on a small scale. But to-day there is not one brick upon another, and one of the chief grudges which the people bear Sherman is for the destruction of their Arsenal.

Before the days of railroads, Fayetteville had a large trade from the western part of the State and upper counties of South Carolina. In my day, however, she had lost all but the turpentine trade of the piney woods country. She had been for many years apparently a finished town. There were no fine public buildings nor elegant houses, no very wealthy people in the place, but there were neat and convenient houses, well furnished, and a great deal of solid comfort. The parlor of one of our well-to-do citizens might be taken as a fair type of the whole house. The people lived well and were whole-hearted in their hospitality. They cared for the destitute and unfortunate at home. Being fifty miles from the railroad, the place was really a large country village, though ranking third as to population among the towns of the State, and took things slow and easy. Wilmington laughed at her being a year behind the fashions, but she did not mind that, caring little for vain display. The place was originally a Scotch settlement, and first called Campbellton, and the comparatively isolated situation which she had held for so many years, tended to preserve the original characteristics of her fathers almost intact in her people to the breaking out of the war. They preferred plain comfort and the education of their children to that feverish striving after display, often with very slender backing, which is so characteristic of to-day in our fast little railroad towns. They were cautious, economical, industrious, in earnest about everything, and not a little stubborn in their prejudices. They were religious and, considering their means, supported their churches well. Fayetteville was to them the only place in the world really worth living in, and they had a smile of superior pity for the fastness of their neighbors on the railroads who laughed at their old-fashioned notions.

When Secretary Floyd, of Buchanan's Cabinet, moved a quantity of arms and ammunition from Northern arsenals and distributed it among those located at the South, he added to the small quantity of stores in the Fayetteville Arsenal. Then the citizens began to find out for the first time what an arsenal was made for. Previously it had been especially supposed to be mainly useful as a comfortable berth for old Capt. Bradford, who generally held the place of port commander, and kept bachelor's hall in one of the fine houses, having several other old gentlemen as his assistants in taking care of the empty building. We children thought it was a jolly place for fireworks on the Fourth of July. There was a machine shop of some kind run by a thirty-horse power steam engine, but nothing of any great consequence was done. 'Twas but child's play as compared with the work done afterwards by the Confederate Government. Now, however, all was changed; there was a large quantity of arms and ammunition stored here, and suppose towards Christmas, when the negroes were generally supposed to be taken with annual longings to “rise,” the munitions of war should prove a temptation too strong for them to resist? Timid people began to ask each other how Capt. Bradford and his old gentlemen were going to guard them. Men's hearts were failing them for looking for those things that were coming The scent of war was in the air. The negroes might take the infection. The end of all the talk was that a request was sent from some of our citizens to the secretary, asking that a guard of soldiers be sent to protect the Arsenal. The request was complied with, and the people breathed free for a while.

I was a very young miss in my teens, then, but I remember as well as yesterday my impressions on seeing the first real soldiers I had ever beheld, except our post commanders, who always wore citizens' clothes. The morning they arrived we were wending our way down the hill to school, and met them marching up to the Arsenal. There were forty men, including officers. It was a drizzly fall day and they were wrapped in their long overcoats. They were artillerymen, and carried no guns upon their shoulders, and as they walked quietly along without fife or drum I thought they looked very poky and humdrum, not near so martial as our volunteer companies on the glorious Fourth, parading with their gleaming bayonets, gay uniforms and plumed hats, to the music of a band playing “Hail Columbia!” We thought very little more of them at the time, but the day came when they became suddenly invested with a fearful importance in our inexperienced eyes.

The winter wore on, as winters will always, whether men's hearts are heavy or light; the spring came and with it the inauguration of Abraham Lincoln, and the proclamation. The character of our people being such as I have described, it is not surprising that like the border people generally they had hitherto hesitated at taking the serious step of separating from the Union, but when

But would there be any resistance on the part of the forty drilled and disciplined soldiers who comprised the garrison? That was a question which filled the hearts of the women with fear, for there was not a house that did not have one or two men in the field that day. Brevet-Major Anderson, the captain of the company, had already resigned his commission, but had not heard from Washington. He was sick in bed moreover, and Lieut. DeLagnal was in command of the men. The lieutenant's predilections were not so well known. The orderly sergeant had deserted with the intention of joining one of our companies whenever safe opportunity should arrive and was in hiding, some of our young men could doubtless have told where. The relations previously existing between the garrison and townspeople had not become strained since the preparations for war set in. The officers went and came to the hotels as usual, where they boarded with their wives. Of course it would be folly in a handful of men so far from their base, and in the heart of a hostile country, to resist, as eventually they would be obliged to surrender or die.

But should they consider it their duty to destroy the Arsenal or resist its capture, with their superior discipline and their artillery within the shelter of the walls, they might mow down hundreds of our raw militia before they could be overwhelmed by numbers, the artillery of the attacking force consisting of two old iron guns of small calibre which had been used for many years to fire salutes on the glorious days of our republic. My father had died only two months previously, and the brother who had taken his place in the large family was in the ranks with his townsmen. The position of the Arsenal, surrounded with dwellings, with the town close at the foot of the hills, would have necessitated fearful havoc among our houses from the use of artillery. Fayetteville had been burned up twice in the business life of my father, but a common home made fire, though fearful enough in itself, would be rendered a hell with flying shot and hissing shells added to the horrors of the scene. So thought and felt our women on that eventful morning. The men all professed to be confident that the place would be surrendered on demand by such a large force as we proposed to send up the hill. Nevertheless they looked serious, and probably during the four years of the war never was a morning of greater suspense endured than on the eventful day “when the Arsenal was taken.”

The mention of that day excites a smile now in Fayetteville. It appears in the light of a burlesque upon war; but our sufferings were none the less real at the time. I have always regretted that we did not turn out to see our band, twelve hundred strong, as they marched up the hill, but at our house the elders thought it advisable that the women should keep quiet at home, and we missed the imposing sight. There is a very deep cut in the road at the steepest part of the long hill, however, and from the top of the bank on either side a good view of the advancing host was had by the hill people near by, whose terror was overcome by their curiosity. But as we lived more than half a mile further on we saw nothing of it. Doubtless as the Home Guard passed irreverent girls were found to laugh. It is not often in this world that any situation of affairs can be found where school girls will not find something to laugh at. “Dear me! how much fighting can these old men do?” “Do look at old Mr. --- . He looks as if a feather would knock him over !” “Lawyer--- looks as if he thought himself Napoleon himself; and I'll venture to say he's tired half to death now.” “Don't you know some of them are scared?” “Goodness! Lucy, let's go home; suppose they should send a volley of shells right over here?” and so on.

But the regiment passed on its way, and arriving at the proper distance, halted and sent in a flag of truce by the hands of the General's staff, demanding the surrender of the Arsenal to the forces of the State of North Carolina. Lieut. DeLagnal was in command at the time. He observed the proprieties of the occasion with becoming gravity. Gen. Draughan with his staff conducted him under the flag of truce to survey the attacking force, and he was convinced that it was useless for him to contend against such odds. He asked of the captain of the company “how many rounds of ammunition his men had?”

“Three.” was the answer.

“Do you consider three rounds sufficient to go into battle with?”

“When that is gone, sir, we'll club our guns.”

It was a warm day for the season, and the new soldiers were very thirsty and saw no reason why they should not refresh themselves with a drink of water while waiting to hear whether or no that hour might be their last. But one valiant captain who had worked himself up into the proper frame of mind for the stern realities of war, thought doubtless it was very unsoldierly to be complaining of thirst after so short a walk under an April sun. He sternly informed his men that they did not come there to drink water, but to die. After much parley and what seemed an almost interminable delay on the part of the waiting and anxious women, it was agreed that the Arsenal and all its contents were to be given up to the State troops on condition that the garrison should be allowed to salute their flag before lowering it and should have the liberty of returing to Washington with their baggage in safety. DeLagnal being the only officer available, considered it his duty to stay by them till they were put in charge of the proper authorities. So the Arsenal was taken.

The salute was fired first, the Stars and Stripes were lowered, then our men marched in and raised the State flag and saluted it. The United States troops left the old flag behind when they went away and some of the ladies afterward converted it into a Confederate flag, when the Stars and Bars had been settled upon. When Col. Childs, with his company of Confederate soldiers, evacuated the place before the march to the sea overwhelmed it, he carried off the old flag, and the final fate of it was to be torn in strips and distributed among his lady friends as mementoes. I have one of them still in my possession.

In the mean time, in our little neighborhood on the very verge of the Hill settlement, half a mile from the Arsenal, and half that distance from the main road, we were cut off from sight of the hill summit by groves of trees, and could not see the flag, nor hear anything that was going on. We were very quiet at our house and tried to go about our usual employment, but the servants were frightened half out of their wits. With wild eyes the middle-aged cook came in.

“Mistis,” she cried, with trembling lips, “I hearn them people was gwine ter throw a bum over dat way and one over dis 'er way, befo dey give up de Ars'nal, and I jis come ter tell you I was gwine down in de holler.”

We heard afterwards that the gulleys in the hillside were lined that morning with the frightened negroes.

Our nearest neighbor was a near relation, a maiden lady, one of those persons who always look for the worst. The dear old lady was in a terrible state of mind, and we all felt the responsibility of supporting her in the trying hour, although her own status in the contest was not greater than that of her neighbors all round. We had all been accustomed to hear salutes fired on National festivals by our town's people in a slow and deliberate manner, with an interval of several minutes between shots; but when the United States soldiers fired off their thirty-one guns in rapid succession with scarcely a second between, 'twas an awful sound in our ears. We thought surely it was a broadside mowing down our devoted band. Our excited neighbor seemed to take it for granted that her brother and his son “had rushed into the field and foremost fighting fell” at the first shot, and she began walking up and down her front piazza, wringing her hands, screaming at the top of her voice, “Oh, my poor brother! Oh, my poor John !” She could be heard all over the neighborhood. All the rest of us were as much frightened, but we did not scream.

At length I remembered that the flag could be seen from the house of a neighbor, perhaps three hundred yards off, but out of hearing.

“I'll run over to Mr. W's and see if the flag is up,” said I, and away I sped though it was towards the field of battle; and when I put my foot on the high piazza - lo ! the bare flag-staff greeted my delighted eyes.

The lady of the house was seated on the piazza apparently calmly sewing, (she was one of the women who helped to bear the burdens of the world,) but I had no time for a visit to our good friend that day.

“I must run right back,” I said, “everybody is frightened nearly to death over our way, and cousin - is almost crazy.”

That was the promptest errand I ever did, and probably among the most acceptable in its results.

So passed that eventful day, at that time doubtless the most anxious that Fayetteville had seen in that generation. Some simple souls imagined the war was over. One old lady remarked that she had seen one war, and hoped never too see another. But the provoking part to us females was to hear, as we discussed the day with our returned braves in the evening, how it had come out that the heads on both sides had had a private consultation beforehand, and the terms of the surrender had been agreed upon and papers signed in a very friendly manner. The parade of the day had been a mere comedy to set things right at Washington, but of course the rank and file were kept in ignorance of this fact till after all was over.

Lieut. James DeLagnal took his men at once to Washington and handed them over to the department. The other two lieutenants belonging to the company had never been to Fayetteville. They sided with the Union, and we heard that this company was among the regular troops who bore the brunt of the first battle of Manasses, and that it was almost annihilated on that field. DeLagnal was offered commission as captian but declined the honor, and resigning his commission joined the Southern army in Virginia. He behaved with great gallantry at the fatal conflict on Rich Mountain, and was long supposed to have been left among the slain. He dropped out of my record after that, but I believe he survived the war.

After the Arsenal was off our minds for a time, we returned to the serious work of finishing the equipment of our men for the terrible work before them, although the most experienced among us scarcely realized how terrible it was to be, nor the privations they would be called upon to endure in the field, or those we would have to bear at home. The schoolgirls were wild; no use was it to mention books to them; it was their plain duty to sew for the soldiers, and sew they did, though I much fear that some of the work might have been criticised by particular persons. There were dress parade suits and fatigue suits to be made, as well as underclothing suitable to camp life-- tents, haversacks, canteens to be covered, in fact every part of the outfit except the knapsacks, was made by the voluntary labor of the women They assembled in bees from house to house, where the most experienced ladies could oversee the difficult parts of the work, such as the making of coats which could not be trusted to novices. And when our first two companies left us, we felt that they were as well provided for as soldiers could expect to be, and us girls were proud to feel that we had done our part as well as school-girls could be expected to.

These companies represented in the main our best educated and well-to-do classes. They were among the first to arrive in Raleigh and were both put into the 1st North Carolina Regiment. It was fortunate for Fayetteville that this regiment was sworn in for six months only, as our companies returned home at the end of that time, and the men were scattered among other regiments mostly as officers. Though the town lost heavily of her sons during the war, the loss was probably less than it would have been if so large a number had remained in a single regiment throughout the war.

But woman's work was by no means done when these two companies left us. Other companies were formed more slowly, and there was plenty of work to be done. We became plainer in our notions, howover, as materials began to be less plenty, and were content to send the others off without feathers in their hats or parade suits, and requisitions had to be made on our family supplies of blankets and carpets to supply this needful article, as well as to respond to calls made on the part of destitute companies abroad; and many families in moderate circumstances gave blankets they could have used at home without having too many. I never nestled under my blankets of a cold or rainy winter night but my last thought was for our soldiers under the blue star-spangled roof of heaven, or the dark and pitiless rain clouds. All through the terrible struggle the women of Fayetteville were ever ready to respond to any call on their time or labor, or means, (so far as they continued to have any,) ever faithful to the cause which they had at heart with all the earnestness of their Scotch blood.

Although not subject to the horrors of actual battle, many of our people endured privations never before dreamed of. Those called “the poor” got along as well as ever probably, as they did not scruple to ask for help; but the suffering was among those families who were accustomed to every comfort, and were above asking or even receiving assistance from others, and many families of this class found great difficulty in procuring the bare necessaries of life. I have known cases in which corn bread formed the sole bill of fare at meals in families accustomed to comfort and even luxury. Imitation coffee often become a luxury out of reach of many unless taken without sugar or cream, especially during the last two years of the war. If a family could afford a slice of meat around for dinner, and home-made molasses at other meals, they considered themselves fortunate, and pitied the poor. The town was never a very good market for fresh meats, butter, etc., but when it became crowded with refugees from down the river and the increase attendant on the many new operatives and officials employed in the new and comparatively extensive works carried on at the Arsenal, these articles became luxuries reserved for those whose wealth still continued available, and they were by no means a large class. New clothes couldn't be thought of by the majority.

What wonderful triumphs of genius were then achieved by the ladies who had been taught good use of their needles, in the “reconstruction” of old dresses, in “making auld claise look as maist as weels' the new.” How garrets were ransacked for old discarded garments, that were brought out and surprised by having a fresh lease of life given them in new characters. What nice bonnets were made of old black silk dress bodies, trimmed with goose feathers, and lined with red or blue satin from the lining of old coat sleeves, hats constructed of old discarded ones of feathers, trimmed with old coat collars and cock's plumes cut off the rooster in the yard. Space fails me to tell of all the shifts that were made - not that we thought so much of our personal appearance as in happier times, but women will always try to “look decent” at least, and young girls will not often be found too sad to refuse to consider the set of a dress or the becommingness of a hat. I wish our women to-day would still remember the lessons of those days, and practice a part, at least, of the enforced plainness of “war times.” We should then hear less of mortgages and liens, and the miseries of the credit system. But through all the privations, real or relative, not one of us ever thought of the possibility of giving up. To the bitter end we believed firmly in the justice and final success of the cause, and even after the devastations of Sherman's army we did not lose faith, but thought “some way” would yet be found out of the difficulty, and the surrender of Lee came upon us like a thunder clap.

One pleasant evening in April, 1865, we heard that a battalion of cavalry was to pass up the road, and “the girls” in our neighborhood hastened out to the main road with flowers and encouraging smiles. We had little else to bestow, for the rations of our people had been cut down so low by Sherman's requisitions upon our smoke-houses and pantries that the bacon had ceased to go round the family. It was harder still to make ends meet - in many families they didn't quite meet. At home we always had enough, though it might be plain, but I can't say as much for all our neighbors. But our hearts were as stout as ever; that the war was over had not come into our heads. As we stood dispensing our flowers or passing a word with a lingering soldier, or having a little chat with an officer, somebody came up and told us that news had come that Lee had surrendered. We refused to believe such a story. “Lee surrendered!” “Lee would never surrender.” Women are so unreasonable, they can't see what they don't want to see really.

We begged the soldiers not to give up. It could not be possible that the South was really subdued. We wept and wrung our hands. “March on to victory or death!” was our cry. In the midst of our excitement we saw a group of horsemen coming down the road toward town. We ran to meet them, hoping for news, and our hearts fell to the lowest place when we saw Gen. Holmes, Col. Peter Mallett and some other officers riding slowly along towards home. What upon earth was these gentlemen doing here! Gen. Holmes had married in Fayetteville and we had all known him from our earliest years.

Oh, General, we cried, “can it be that Lee has surrendered?”

“Yes,” said the old general from a full heart, his voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, all is over. The South is overcome. Fayetteville has no cause to blame herself. She has done her whole duty, and if all people everywhere had done as well, it might have been different.”

As they passed on we returned home. We had no more to talk about that evening. The war had ended as we had never believed possible; all the days of agonizing suspense; our wives, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, had endured, while their loved ones were hourly exposed to deadly danger, the nights of sleepless anxiety, wishing yet dreading for the morning - all the privations, self-denials, losses, had been in vain. All the precious lives had been sacrificed, and for what? Defeat at last. Desolation met our eyes all around. Want was lurking among us. The earth seemed turned upside down, and chaos seemed to reign.

But not long did Fayetteville lie weeping in the dust. 'Twas not in her nature. She gathered herself up and went to work again. She bought from the United States the millions of brick left in the ruined walls of the Arsenal with which to repair her waste places, and she hath struggled on all these years with adverse circumstances. But to-day all is about to be changed. She is to have very soon a railroad completed to connect her with the high-roads of the nation once more. Modern progress has laid its coal of fire upon her back, and before many years old-fashioned Fayetteville will be no more. It will be simply a common-place, modern, railway town. The young ladies will no longer be behind in the fashions, but daughters of parents in moderate circumstances will be seen fashionably attired in satin bought with money that should have been spent in new sheets and towels for family use. Elegant parlors will be seen in houses where the doors are left carefully closed on bare bedrooms. The lady who used to say (I heard her) that she preferred her friends should know her “old last winter's bonnet had been brought out again,” will be superseded by the lady who cannot possibly wear a dress two seasons, therefore has no means to exercise the comfortable, if not showy nor lavish, hospitality which was gracefully exercised by the old bonnet and carefully preserved black silk. The old stage coach in which every child of old Fayetteville has doubtless been turned over in the dead of night, (I have enjoyed that privilege) will be forgotten and her people will be mashed up on fast mail trains.