My friend Mrs. Gawthmey resided here, and here the greater part of my time was spent when “off duty” (of which more anon).

This model Virginia household was so true a type of the homes of Richmond as they were at that time, that its description will present to the reader all, for the same spirit pervaded every one.  As in almost every case, the young men of the family were in the Confederate service (the sons of this household were of the Richmond Howitzers).  The father, in feeble health, yet lavished his means and his little strength upon every patriotic duty which arose.  The mother, far more youthful, active, and energetic, full of enthusiasm for the cause, exceeding proud of the brave boys whom she had freely sent out to battle, loving and serving all soldiers with heart and hand, was seconded with equal ardor and wonderful ability by her sweet young daughters.  The spare sleeping-rooms were always daintily prepared, and at the service of any soldier who needed care and rest. Soldiers feeble from recent illness were encouraged to recline awhile in restful arm-chairs in the cool flower-scented parlors, while the girls often entertained them with music or pleasant conversation.

Not a meal was set in that house unshared by one or more soldiers.  The table was always as attractive as finest linen damask, elegant china and glass, and handsome silver could make it.  The meals were abundant and nourishing, but plain.  Delicacies of all kinds were prepared constantly in that “Virginia kitchen,” and daintily arranged in the pantry by the ladies’ own hands, but only to be sent to the sick and wounded strangers lying in the numerous hospitals.

Opposite to the home just described arose the spacious but unpretentious residence of President Davis, the Confederate “White House” (in this case only in a figurative sense, for the executive mansion was of dark brown stone or stucco).  As nearly as I can remember, the main entrance was on Clay Street.  On one side the windows opened on Twelfth Street, on the other lay a beautiful garden extending quite to the edge of “Shokoe Hill,” which overlooked the classic valley of “Butchertown,” through the midst of which ran “Shokoe Creek.”  The boys of this region, from generation to generation, had been renowned for exceeding pugnacity.  Between them and the city boys constantly-recurring quarrels were so bitter that sometimes men were drawn in through sympathy with their boys.  The law seemed powerless to put an end to this state of things.

Regular arrangements were made, definite challenges were given and accepted, and fights took place between successive sets of boys as they grew old enough to throw down or take up the gauntlet.  Richmond was at that time considered a law-abiding city, and had only a few policemen, whom the boys found it easy to elude.  The appearance of officers Chalkly and Tyler, however, generally served to close the fight until next time.