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| Reminiscences of the Long Ago1
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As recalled by by Mrs. Mary "Molly" A. E. Pickett.
I am an old woman now almost sixty-nine years of age. I was the eldest daughter of John Harvie Marks and wife Matilda Jane Thornton, grandaughter of Hastings Marks and Sivility Powell. My mother was the daughter of Col. William Solomon Thornton and Nancy Sweeny.
And I see once more the home of my childhood, and myself once more a little girl, out in the shade of a wide spreading oak, with old black mammy, my father's cook. And while I hold and slowly unwind her thread, I watch her dear old rough clumsy hands, as she knits her stocking. And I listen to the wonderful tales she tells of her young days.
"When Marse Hastuns (my grandfather Hastings Marks) moved to de prarers in do ole Yallerbamma (Alabama). You is heard of fitin cows, but chile you don no nuffin' 'bout it. De wile strawberries growed eberwhere, they did, and on Sunday ebenings me and a hole gang of young niggers would go out to hunt em, for da sho was good. And fust thing we know dem wile Yallerbamma cows would see us, and here day would come des a kickin up day heels, and bellowing, making right fer us. We sho' would have to run fer our lives, fer da wusn't a tree in sight, no whar, fer us to clam up."
And she would tell about the "Injuns, -Marse Hastuns was Captain, or sumpin, of de sojors what fit de Injuns." (Grandfather was Captain of a company of militia.) "And when he go to town to muster de men, he come back home so funny. He would hab a dram, he would, but Marse Hastuns nebber did git drunk, No, no, no, he des take a dram, and git funny. And when he get home he tell mammy Milly, she was the cook, to cook a big pot of mush, an when it git dun, he make her bring it out wid a big pan of sweet milk and a lot of spoons. Den he call all us little giggers fum de quarters, bout 20 or thirty of us, an he tell us we got to dance the Injun dance, or we can't hab no milk and mush. Den he string us all round, an he git in de middle, an he tell us we got to do jus lack him. Den he sing de Injun song, and hop and dance until the supper bell would call him in.
"An den atter a while Marse Hastuns and his brudder Marse Jacky Marks, an Marse Nick Barnett, all come to de Arkansas, en de woods wus so thick, en day wus so full of bars, and panters, and wolves, and deers, tell us niggers wus afeered to git outter de house after night."
1 Pettigrew, Marion DeWoody, and Newton Brightwell, MARKS-BARNETT FAMILIES AND THEIR KIN, pp. 90-95
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| Reminiscences of Mrs. Mary "Molly" A. E. Pickett
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I (Mrs. Pickett) remember hearing my father, John H. Marks, ("Little Jack") tell of an incident that happened when he was a boy, at that time the country was unsettled, and a veritable wilderness in what is now Cleveland County, Arkansas, and each farm had to keep a pack of hounds.
Uncle Jackey had one old favorite bear dog, but the old fellow wa too aged and feeble to hunt any more, and had the mange in a marked degree. Hound-like he persiste in coming into the house. No matter what company was present, old Rover would be right in their midst, if he could possibly get there.
Cousin Rebecca Sorrells, Uncle Jackey's oldest daughter, begged her father to have the old dog killed, but he refused, so once more when Cousin Civility Stewart, who afterwards married my father's brother Hastings Marks, was visiting Cousin Rebecca, they planned to get rid of Rover, and securing some strychnine, they gave him a dose.
A few minutes after they started over to grandmother's, going through the field because it was nearer, just as they were passing a cotton house, they heard a noise and looking back saw old Rover coming after them, staggering along with his tongue out, his mouth filled with froth and saliva. They thought the poison had run him mad and they became panic stricken, screaming loudly for help, they ran into a cotton house, and climbed the walls as high as they could go.
In the meantime, my father, who was also on his way to Umcle Jakey's heard their cries, and hurried to them. When he was told by them of the poison, and saw the condition of the dog, he shot him. The girls decided that they would never give a pet strychnine, if it came into the house and occupied the bed.
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| Reminiscences of Mrs. Mary "Molly" A. E. Pickett
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The most of my childhood, from the time I was five years of age until I was thirteen, was spent in school, first in the little village school of Chambersville, Ark, then the Collegiate Institute, of Camden, Ark.
When the Civil War began, that stopped my schooling, but my father taught me, during all the spare moments I had from my spinning and weaving. At that time every one had to spin and weave. The rich as well as the poor had to make everything that was worn on the body, and used in the house. Plough lines, and even woven saddle girths, from the long hair of the tails of horses and cattle. We made our hats of the Southern Palm or Palmetto, that grew in the swamps, and they were as beautiful as the expensive leghorns of today.
Yet during all those troublous times, and with so much work to do, there were times when we were right jolly, and some laughable things would occur, although at the time, it was considered quite serious. Once after the Federals had taken possession of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, a bunch of my girl friends were spending the day with me, and my Uncle Evan P. Marks had gone home to see his mother, who was an invalid. That morning a runner came telling him he had better leave, that the Federals were at Mount Elba only six miles away. So he left, fearing that he might be taken a prisoner, and came across the Moro Creek to our house, in Calhoun County.
In the afternoon we were having a fine time, in the parlor, dancing, singing, etc. There being only two of the male sex present, Uncle Evan and Brother Billie, some of the girls tied handkerchiefs to their arms to act as gentlemen. Uncle Evan being a fine violinist played for us, prompted and danced all at the same time. And while the dancing and fun was in full sway, old black Mammy came running into the room. Exclaiming, "Fer de Lord's sake run, Marse Evan, de Yankees is coming right down de road, en ef you don run da git you sho.'"
Looking out of the window there they were, as we thought, a whole regiment of Feds. There was only one way for Uncle Evan to get out of the room, and that was through the hall, in plain view of the soldiers. He had kept his horse tied and saddled in the back yard, for fear that he might have to leave in a hurry. So he mad a dash through the hall to his horse, and out through the plum orchard, that had grown up so thick that one could hardly walk through it, making his horse jump the fences.
He had taken off his cartridge belt and pistols, so that he could dance, and in the excitement he had left the on the table. Missing them, he did not know what to do. He could not go back to certain capture. Just at this time he saw my father in the orchard and called him to get them as quickly as he could, and end them to him.
But by the time Pa got there the soldiers had drawn up in front of the house. When lo and behold! it proved to be our men, led by Colonel McMurtree, who had been on a scout, to find out where the Feds were. We sent for Uncle Evan to come back to the house. Such a laugh a we had, but it broke up the dance.
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| Reminiscences of Mrs. Mary "Molly" A. E. Pickett
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But times were growing serious, the colonel said the Feds not only had Pine Bluff, but Little Rock and Camden, also. And that our troops were somewhere in Louisianna, and that they must be off the next morning. Uncle Evan went with them. We heard no more from them for many days. In fact, not until the night before the battle of Mark's Mill, which was fought on April 15, 1864.
General Steele commanding the federal Troops, had decided to evacuate Camden, and sending part of his men up the road, towards Little Rock, he started the rest under General Drake, to Pine Bluff..
Later in the afternoon of the 24th of April, one of our old Negroes who had been to preaching in the little village of Chambersville, came back in a great hurry, and terribly excited, saying, "Marse John, you better git out and hide somewhar, fer de Yankees is coming. And da sho' will take you, fer de whole world is full of dem. Da stopped to camp at Chambersville, but are scattering out all over the country, taking all the cotton they can find baled up."
Of course we were terribly uneasy, and did not sleep any that night, expecting the Federals every minute. Just about midnight someone called at the gate. My father went to the door thinking it was the Feds. He called, "Who are you?"
The reply was "Are there any Yankees here?" Father said he had heard only later that afternoon, that there were plenty of them at Chambersville.
The man then asked, "Are there any here at your house?"
"Not unless you are one," said my father.
The gate being open the man rode up near the door, and speaking very low, in his natural voice said, "How do you do, Jack?"
Father cried out in a surprised voice, and said, "Dick, what are you doing here?". It proved to be one of our neighbors, Mr. Dick Cone, who had been sent as a scout to find right where the Federals were camped; how many, and all about them, but said he was going to see his wife before he went back to camp. For our soldiers were camped down on the Pine Bluff and Moro Landing road. He was sure there would be a battle early next morning, and he did not know but he might be killed, and wanted to see his wife and children. His home was within two miles of where the Feds were camped, and it was really dangerous for him to venture so near.
He told us to listen, and we would hear the guns next morning. For they would be up where the Princeton and Warren road crossed the Pine Bluff and Moro Landing road, in time to cut the Feds off from Pine Bluff.
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A GEOCITIES SPONSOR 
