Dallas County, Alabama

At the foot of Vine Street and extending several blocks on South Street were the grounds surrounding the palatial residence of E. M. Perine, "a merchant prince of ante-bellum days," a Northern gentleman of the old school who was universally beloved by all who knew him. A massive iron gate opened into the grounds, laid off in broad, circular walks, bordered with closely clipped hedges of boxwood, surrounding mounds of rare flowers and ever-playing fountains, whose waters rose and fell, glistening and sparkling in the sunlight, with a perpetual flow of indescribable brilliancy.

The front walls of the spacious brick mansion were covered by masses of old English ivy, its delicate tendrils and green leaves, twining in and around the iron balcony, up the turret that formed the vestibule in front, clinging to the eaves and climbing out into the chimneys, like some pictured castle of old baronial days.

The house contained twenty-six rooms, finished in the most artistic manner. There were long, broad halls, with winding stairway, reception rooms, parlors, and ballroom, with embossed ceilings and chandeliers of silver and crystal, shimmering and flashing brilliantly over the beautiful marble mantles imported from Italy. The capacious dining room with its magnificent mahogany, handsome silver, and beautiful cut glass, in which it was no unusual occurrence to find seventy-five or a hundred guests seated around the massive mahogany tables with their heavy damask so thick that no silence cloths were needed. Back of the residence were the conservatory, vineries, and artesian well nine hundred feet deep, with a marvelous stream of water gushing and falling into a large cemented basin, from which it was conducted off through the beautiful grounds in cemented branches to the pastures beyond.

On the banks of the Alabama River east of the Perine place on Fifth South Street was the distillery, owned and carried on during the war by Shepard Diggs and Aicardie.

Back of the distillery, farther down on the banks of the Alabama River, was the Portis place, with its beautiful glens and glades, in the midst of a magnificent forest growth.

Going west parallel with Vine Street was Walnut Street. On the corner of Walnut and Second South Streets, just above the ravine, was the residence of Mrs. John English. Opposite, on the southeast corner of Walnut and Second South Streets, was the old Vogelin place, another one of the early landmarks of Cahaba.

On the northwest corner of Walnut and Fifth South Streets was the Bird place, the old residence of Judge Bird, afterwards owned by Col. John White, and which later became the home of Dr. E. M. Vasser.

On the southeast corner of Walnut and Fourth South Streets was the residence of Judge George Evans. In the same neighborhood, on Fifth South Street, was the residence of Dr. Troy. In the early days of Cahaba this place was the home of Dr. J. F. Heustis, Sr., who removed to Mobile. It was also the residence of Dr. John English during his life.

Each of these places occupied a separate block of ground, with well-kept yards, ornamented with beautiful flowers, stately magnolias, and where roses of all varieties bloomed profusely. Farther south on Walnut Street was the little suburban villa of Herbert S. Hudson, with its terraced grounds in imitation of his old home in England.

Beyond the Hudson place was the cottage home of Shepard Diggs, built in 1860, and the Foulks place, a two-story brick residence which was never completed.

Parallel with Walnut Street, running north and south through the town, was Mulberry Street, which was but little improved, and in the sixties contained but few buildings. The most important of these was the Methodist Church, built of brick and surmounted by an imposing cupola. Near the church, around the square on First North Street, was the residence of Dr. C. K. Farley, and just north of the church was a frame building of two rooms, known as the "Boys' Academy."

​

On the west side of Mulberry Street were the grounds belonging to the residence of Judge Campbell, located on First South Street, in the center of the block between Mulberry and Oak Streets. This place was afterwards bought and remodeled by Mr. William Boynton, a nephew of Dr. Saltmarsh and a prominent young lawyer of Cahaba, who married Miss Fannie Isabel, of Talladega. At one time General Pettus lived here; later on it became the home of Mrs. Eliza Babcock.

South of the Methodist Church, on the west side of Mulberry Street in a small grove of pines, was the negro church, built by the people of Cahaba for the negroes. It was a large one-story frame building, painted white with green blinds and surmounted by a belfry.

In all the churches seats were provided in the galleries for the negroes, but their regular worship was held at two o'clock on Sunday afternoons at their own church, when they were seen gathering in crowds, neatly dressed, but always in bright colors. Their voices were remarkably rich and melodious, and it was a treat to hear them sing, especially "The Old Ship of Zion" and that grand old hymn, "The Year of Jubilee Is Come." As they sang they would keep time to the music in swinging their bodies, bowing their heads, and clapping their hands, which they called "patting Jubil."

Extending from the Cahaba River north and south through the center of the town was Oak Street, one of the prettiest and best-improved streets of the place. Here was the beautiful home of Mrs. Simeon Watts, occupying a block, on the corner of Oak and Fifth North Streets. The home of Mr. John A. Lodor was at the southwest corner of Oak and Fourth South Streets, the residence of P. G. Wood being diagonally across from it. The Episcopal parsonage, occupied by Dr. Cushman, was on the same block at the southwest corner of Oak and Third South Streets. The residence of Col. Rees D. Gayle on Oak, between First and Second North Streets, shaded by huge water oaks, china trees, mulberries, and large bushes of cape jessamine, a house whose hospitable doors were ever open and a home of delightful entertainment, ever celebrated for its refinement and culture, its cordial Southern welcome, and large-hearted, elegant hospitality.  The artesian well on the Rees Gayle place was second in size only to the one on the Ferine place, which was said to be next to the largest well known in the world, at Paris, France.

Occupying the block on Oak Street, between First South Street and Capitol Avenue, was Academy Square, with its Indian mounds. The two-story brick building was ornamented by a large observatory and belfry. Across the street, in front of the Academy on the corner of First South Street, was the residence of John Guiwn, another old landmark of early days. Adjoining the Guiwn place, at the corner of Capitol Avenue and Walnut Street, was the Presbyterian Church. On the southeast corner of Capitol Avenue and Walnut Street was the old Union church, claimed to be the first church built in Cahaba after the capital was removed. When the other denominations built their own churches,, the Baptists continued to worship in the building, and it became known as the Baptist Church. The most prominent ministers connected with Cahaba history and those most closely identified with the place and people were: Rev. Dr. Smyth, of the Presbyterian Church; Rev. Dr. Cotton, of the Methodist Church; and Rev. Dr. Cushman, of the Episcopal Church. A minister by the name of Bailey was the Baptist minister stationed in Cahaba for a short while, but he did not remain long, and it can't be recalled that he had a successor.

After Dr. Smyth resigned the pastorate of the Presbyterian Church, a Mr. Kegwin was in charge for a short while in 1861 or 1862. The pulpit then became vacant until occupied by the Rev. Dr. Sparrow, in 1863, 1864, and 1865, an aged minister, a man of God, so zealous in his work that when too feeble to stand he delivered his sermons in a chair seated in front of the pulpit.

On the southwest corner of Capitol Avenue and Oak Street was the residence of Judge William Hunter, afterwards known as the home of Miss Mary Troy, a roomy house with broad galleries and beautiful shrubbery, occupying the entire square. It was at this house that Fanny Troy, a young girl from North Carolina who was visiting relatives in Cahaba, fell suddenly into one of those somnolent conditions that defied the skill of the most prominent physicians. The case was a peculiar one, and gave rise to considerable interest at the time.   Apparently in the best of health, and one of those happy, genial  dispositions who seem to enjoy everything in life, she returned one evening in May from a jaunt in the woods with a party of girls hunting dewberries and fell fast asleep while sitting on the front gallery conversing with her aunt. When awakened she complained of being "too sleepy to hold her eyes open," and retired to her room without awaiting supper. The next morning when called for breakfast she answered only to fall asleep again, and continued to sleep all that day and until the next evening, when her aunt became alarmed and called in a physician. For three weeks she continued in this condition, rousing only for a few moments at a time, scarcely long enough to take necessary nourishment, which had to be administered to her from a spoon, yet when roused she was perfectly conscious and seemed to know every one. She became so thin and emaciated as to be scarcely recognizable, and no hope was entertained of her recovery. Finally her father and mother came from North Carolina and carried her back home. She continued to sleep all during the journey, and for three weeks, I am told, after her arrival at home she still slept, when, to the surprise of every one, she waked up, recovered her normal condition, and became a stout, robust woman. No explanation could ever be arrived at as to the cause of her condition. It was  suggested that she might have eaten some poisonous berry or was stung or bitten by a poisonous insect while in the woods, but I am certain this could not have been, for we were together the entire evening gathering berries in the same basket, and nothing of the kind could have occurred to her without my knowledge.

On the southeast corner of Oak and First North Streets was the John Williams home, built in early years by Judge Fambro, and once owned by the late Col. Daniel Troy, of Montgomery, when, as a young man, he settled in Cahaba and married Miss Lucy Mathews, a daughter of Mr. Joel E. Mathews. After her death. Colonel Troy sold the place to Mr. John Williams, a prominent lawyer of Cahaba. It was a lovely home with its overflowing well and wealth of ever-blooming roses. This place was occupied by Mr. Shepard Diggs and family during the war, and when the surrender came and Wilson's Raiders were expected in Cahaba, it was here that gallons upon gallons of fine brandy, wines, cordials, and cherry bounce were consigned to the waters of the artesian well to prevent its falling into the hands of the Yankee soldiers.

Occupying a square on Oak Street, between First and Second North Streets, was the large two-story frame residence of Mr. James D. Craig, one of Cahaba's wealthiest and most influential citizens. Friends and relatives met cordial welcome at this home, and would here gather around the hospitable board and unite in morning and evening worship at the family altar, a good old-time custom most rigidly observed in this household.

In the same neighborhood, just across the street, were the Lake place, the Duke place, and Chancellor Clarke's old home, then known as the Warren Andrews place. All of these houses fronted on Second North Street.

Farther north on Oak Street was the residence of H. I. F. Coleman, with a long, broad avenue of cedars leading to the front gallery, overhung with climbing roses and surrounded by other rare and beautiful flowers.

Still farther north on Oak Street were other attractive homes, and the commons, shaded on one side by mighty oaks, whose interlocking boughs formed a rich canopy of green in springtime, when the earth beneath was carpeted in Bermuda grass, dotted with blue forget-me-nots and yellow dandelions.

In this same direction, on the outskirts of the town, was the Barker place, an impressive brick residence, two stories in height, with big "Corinthian columns" in front. It was built by a prominent resident of Cahaba, familiarly known as "Shoestring Barker." It is said to have cost him between $25,000 and $30,000, and it has been claimed that he never lived a day in the house, but this is an erroneous assertion. Mr. Barker and his family occupied the residence for a year or fourteen months, perhaps longer, and then removed to their plantation. This still beautiful place is now owned and occupied by Mr. Clifton Kirkpatrick, a prominent merchant and farmer, whose father bought it for a few hundred dollars. It is the only place in Cahaba that retains any of its old-time beauty.

The Cahaba River on the road to Selma in the fifties was spanned by a covered bridge and had a tollgate, which in early years was kept by Mr. Allen, the father of Mr. Walter Allen, of Selma, whose residence was near the bridge, and who owned all the land lying in the bend of the Cahaba River, near that part of the town. Mr. Allen was one of the finest stone-cutters in Alabama, "an artist in the art," and was celebrated for his exquisite work. His marble yard was near his residence, across the road in front of his house.

Fronting the commons, a little to the northeast, was the Tom Walker place, a white cottage with climbing roses and beautiful shrubbery on Fifth North Street.  In the same neighborhood was the Warford place, a lovely spot in the midst of wide-spreading shade trees, overlooking the Cahaba River, opposite the locality on which that part of the town was built in early days known as "Over the Point," to which I have previously referred.

There were many other good citizens living in this part of the town, but only the families of Jere Lister and John and William Bassett can now be recalled.  On the eastern part of Second North Street, just out of the business portion of the town, on the north side of the street, was the old Ocheltree house, another one of the early landmarks, with two immense trees of pink crape myrtle shading the long front gallery. Going farther west, on the opposite side of the street were the homes of Dr. Smith, Menzo Watson, and Tom Fellows, who lived across the street a block or two distant. Father west, on Second North Street, were also the homes of Reuben Tipton, Tom Watson, William Damon, and in the same neighborhood John and William Lovett, all good citizens who, in their chosen avocations, contributed to the prosperity of the town.

Fronting on Pine Street and occupying the block between Pine and Chestnut was the home of Col. C. C. Pegues, with its spacious grounds and maze or labyrinth of cedars, where one emerged from the soft twilight of forest shades into a yard ornamented with magnolia trees, Lombardy pines, fragrant flowers, and overflowing fountains. This had been the jail in capitolean days, but the brick building had been  remodeled into one of the loveliest places in town, and was now a home which at all times was the center of social life and attraction.

From the mystical shadows of long ago comes the memory of one of those strange, mysterious, uncanny phenomena connected with this place that sometimes happen to astonish the most materialistic, and which at the time of its occurrence caused much interest and speculation even among the most intelligent and best informed citizens of Cahaba.

In the spring of 1862, on one of those brilliant moonlight nights, a night "in which nature seems in silent contemplation to adore its Maker," a young lady and gentleman, promenading near the maze, of cedars, turned to enter one of the circular walks leading to the center of the labyrinth, when they were startled to see a large white, luminous ball moving a few feet above the ground in front of them, apparently floating in air. This ball would dart first on one side of the walk and then on the other, approach close enough to almost touch them, recede and disappear in the shrubbery, to suddenly be seen again floating beside them.

Thinking the apparition was a trick of fancy or was caused by some peculiar phase of the moon's shadows, they turned to retrace their steps, when again it appeared in front of them, going through the same gyrations. The gentleman now determined to test the materiality of the object; but just as he  attempted to grasp it, it darted beyond his reach and disappeared, to be seen no more that night. On  several occasions this apparition appeared to other parties, and became known as the "Pegues Ghost." No one could ever definitely explain what it was, but general opinion finally concluded it to be one of those strange phosphorescent phenomena so often read of but rarely seen, known as "will-o'-the-wisp" or "Jack-o'-lantern."

Opposite the Pegues place on the block extending from First North Street to Capitol Avenue was the Hoot place. A quaint, old-fashioned well, "with its moss-covered bucket," stood in the front yard of the long, narrow, one-story brick house surrounded with blue and white flag lilies, jonquils, wallflowers, lilacs, and other old-fashioned flowers.

Farther west, on Capitol Avenue and Ash Street, was the Aicardie place, afterwards the residence of Col. R. D. Hunter, another home that was one of the social centers of the town and noted for its charming hospitality. In front of the Hunter place were the vacant lots belonging to the Robert Lake property, a handsome new house fronting on First North Street, which was built just before the war. On the northwest corner of Capitol Avenue and Ash Street, diagonally across from the Hunter place, was the residence of Mr. Thomas L. Craig.

Immediately in front of the Craig place, on the southwest corner of Capitol Avenue and Ash Street, was a spacious cottage built by J. S. Hays, a young lawyer, who settled in Cahaba and married Miss Lizzie Diggs, a granddaughter of Mrs. Mary Arther, one of Cahaba's oldest and best-known residents. At one time this house was occupied by Mr. James B. Martin, a prominent lawyer from Jacksonville, Ala., who came to Cahaba in 1856 or 1857, and who was afterwards Lieutenant-General Martin of Confederate fame. It later became the home of Gen. John T. Morgan. Each of the places occupied a square in one of the most attractive resident portions of the town, and were all well-improved homes, surrounded with beautiful flower yards, fine orchards, and every convenience to add to the comfort of life.

On the Morgan place was another of those numerous overflowing wells for which Cahaba was famed. Two magnificent magnolia trees stood on each side of the steps, and with branches extending far over into the front gallery added greatly to the charm of the place.

Going farther west, at the corner of Capitol Avenue and Beech Street, was the large two-story frame residence of Abner Brazile, Clerk of the Circuit Court. Back of the Brazile place, lying on Clear Creek, at the foot of First North Street, were the grounds  surrounding the county poorhouse kept by Frank Mosely. Near by, on the banks of Clear Creek, was the spot where for many years might have been seen the remains of an old gallows, on which was executed the first person condemned to capital punishment in Dallas County. The crime was a particularly horrible one, and so uncommon in the South at that time that it caused the greatest excitement and most intense  feeling. The victim was a Mrs. Chaptman, the daughter of a wealthy and prominent citizen of Dallas County in early times. On her marriage to Chaptman, who, it is said, was a Northern man, he gave his daughter a number of old family servants. Chaptman proved a hard master, so the negroes hated him and wanted to return to their old home. By some strange machination of reasoning, these ignorant creatures conceived the idea that if Mrs. Chaptman could be quietly gotten out of the way Chaptman would have no further claim to them, and they could return to their old master. One day in the early spring one of the oldest and most trusted of the negroes came to the house where Mrs. Chaptman was alone, sitting quietly in her room sewing, utterly unmindful of danger, and sent the cook to tell her he had found "a turkey nest" in a pile of brush in the clearing, just below the house "where they were at work," "and wanted to show it to her." She arose, put on her bonnet, and went with the negro, followed by the cook, another trusted servant. Just as she leaned over to remove the eggs from the nest the man struck her on the head with an ax and killed her instantly. A little negro girl witnessed the outrage and ran screaming to the house and told Chaptman, who at that moment had just returned home from another part of the plantation. Besides this man and woman, there were several other negroes implicated in the plot, and tradition says that three or four were hanged in Cahaba for the crime.

All the evidence at the trial showed that Chaptman's harshness and a desire to return home was the only incentive that actuated the negroes in the brutal murder of their mistress. Compared to the modern unmentionable crime of the race, this might be considered an extenuating circumstance.

On the southeast corner of Beech and First South Streets was a cottage, around which centered quite a romantic story, illustrative of a man's unselfish devotion to a woman. The place belonged to Smith Lucy, a young gentleman of some wealth and social prominence, who died a few weeks before the time appointed for his marriage and left all his property to his intended wife. After a short period of mourning, the young lady married, came to Cahaba, and lived in the home of her former lover, apparently as happy as though she had married him. Back of the Smith Lucy place, fronting on Beech Street, was the Ebenezer Bower place, the property of a young man of fine intellect, but too modest and bashful to allow himself to be appreciated. Farther out were the large brickyards of John and William Lovett, the home of Isaac Saddler, and the tannery in charge of M. Benish. Farther on First South Street, between Pine and Chestnut Streets, was the cottage home of B. H. Craig, with its magnolia trees, mounds of beautiful flowers, and circular walks in front of the house. Beginning at Vine Street, in front of the Perine residence and extending out to Sixth South Street, was the plank road built from Cahaba to Woodville, now Uniontown. This road, with its tollgate, was the fashionable drive in the fifties and sixties. In the summer afternoons it was crowded with elegant carriages, containing exquisitely dressed women and beautiful children, with their black nurses; stately aristocratic Southern gentlemen out for a canter, followed by their mounted body servants; large parties of gay young people; the ladies in their picturesque riding habit, with long, flowing skirt and curling plume falling gracefully from the tall silk hat; the handsome, spirited horses, whose feet seemed to disdain the ground as they daintily capered along, altogether made a picture so brilliant that Time's darkest shadows can never efface it from the tablet of memory.

Happy and prosperous Were the Cahabaians in those old days, with their slaves, their gardens, their orchards, their fertile fields of waving corn and cotton, brilliant with bloom in summer and in autumn heavy with boll and long, snowy staple that covered the valleys and gentle slopes around the town; while forest trees of primeval growth crowned the summit of the hills, lending an additional beauty to the landscape.

West of the busy streets and homes of the living out on Sixth South Street was the old graveyard, the burial place of Alabama's first capital, and where some of her most distinguished citizens were laid to rest. This "silent city of the dead" was protected by a solid wall of brick masonry five or six feet high with a heavy iron gate. Each separate lot was also surrounded by a high wall of brick. Within these dilapidated enclosures thirty-five or forty years ago were a number of handsome monuments covered with the moss of ages and fast crumbling to decay. Only two inscriptions on these fallen and broken stones had escaped "the touch of Time's defacing finger." One of these was sacred to the memory of Hon, Thomas B. Rutherford, the father of Mrs. Thomas L. Craig, of Cahaba, and Mrs. William Norris, of Selma, and a member of the Lower House of Representatives from Dallas County in 1822. The other showed the remains of having been a beautiful monument, ornamented with the figure of an angel holding a wreath of flowers in each hand. It bore the name of Margaret Earl, but was so broken that nothing could be learned from the inscription except that it was erected in memory of a beautiful young girl, "who passed away in the dawn of a young and brilliant womanhood." But these memorials have all perished, and the names of those who sleep beneath them are "but as a tale that is told." All that we now know of them is, they lived, they loved, and they have passed away.

In the old days when a person died the black-bordered funeral notice was carried around to each house by a negro boy ringing a bell and wearing long black streamers attached to each shoulder, called  "weepers." These weepers became obsolete many years ago, and I do not remember to have ever seen them used but once, and that I think was on the occasion of the funeral of a very old gentleman who hung himself in Cahaba from senile insanity.

On a little rise at the south end of Oak Street was the new cemetery, a beautiful spot shaded by large trees of pine, oak, and magnolia, and also containing a number of handsome monuments. Here, in later years, were buried many prominent citizens in full regalia of the Masonic Order, with the solemn and impressive ceremony of the Masonic funeral service.

Here, too, was witnessed the burial of Bettie Watts, the only daughter of Mrs. Simeon Watts, a lovely young girl in the first flush of early maidenhood. No hearse or other trappings of woe was seen at her funeral, but she was carried to the grave on a bier surrounded by a procession of her young friends and companions - all bearing wreaths and garlands of flowers. Masses of roses, spirea, cape jasmine, and long trailing branches of fleecy bridal wreath covered the casket, and falling in rich profusion formed a pall over the entire bier, which presented the appearance of a mound of beautiful white flowers as it was borne along in the midst of the young boys and girls to the cemetery. It was a sad but beautiful picture, and one that seemed to rob death of half its terror.

Two miles south of Cahaba, immediately on the banks of the Alabama River, was the home of Mr. Joel E. Mathews, one of the most beautifully improved places in the South. The house was of brick built in the old English style with open court in front and a broad gallery entirely across the southern portion. It was in a grove of large forest trees, extending to the banks of the river. On the east and west in front of the house were extensive grounds, with broad walks and circular carriage drives, bordered on each side with smoothly trimmed hedges of Yopon and Pyracanthia, surrounding large beds and mounds, rioting in myriads of beautiful flowers. Roses, japonicas, cape jasmine, spirea, snowballs, hyacinths, tulips, sweet shrubs, jonquils, and violets gave forth their rich perfume, and the mocking birds sang perpetually from the bowers of honeysuckle and wisteria, heavy and purple with blossom in springtime. Leading from the circular drives to the gate was a long, broad avenue, with branches of rippling water on each side, shaded by trees of magnolia and water oaks. Beyond to the right and left were rich meadows of Bermuda grass, and orchards containing varieties of delicious fruits. Pears, peaches, plums, apricots, nectarines, and figs of many varieties grew luxuriantly and bore abundantly. On the north side of the house was the garden through which was the entrance to the family burial ground, with its handsome monuments, beautiful shrubbery, and even rarer flowers than the yard contained. A short distance from the house on the south side was the luxurious bath house, with an immense cemented pool through which flowed a constant and continuous stream of gushing water from the artesian well. South of the residence was the plantation with its broad acres, its church, its ballroom, and comfortable log houses, occupied by hundreds of slaves, devoted to their master and his family. This was an ideal Southern home, the embodiment of cordial and princely hospitality, with its well-trained servants, magnificent library, and every surrounding for comfort, ease, and luxury, and a home that was noted far and wide for the kindness and cultivation, the refinement and liberality of its owners. Here guests would come and go at pleasure, and on all occasions were made to feel thoroughly welcome. The old-fashioned, roomy carriage, drawn by large gray horses, with its tall, high seat, occupied by Jeff, the polite negro driver, was always ready to convey parties of visitors to and from Cahaba, or bring them from Selma, while at the landing someone was waiting to welcome those who came by boat. No one who did not live in the old days can conceive the pleasure, the exquisite delight of a visit to one of these old palatial country homes of antebellum times, and none can have a full appreciation of hospitality or understand its full meaning who did not enjoy it at the hands of the old Southern planter.

A mile northwest of the Mathews place, on the Cahaba road just above the Mathews Creek, was the home of Col. N. H. R. Dawson in his early married life to Miss Ann Mathews, the oldest daughter of Mr. Joel E. Mathews. This place was built by Col. Josiah Walker, a prominent citizen of Dallas County, and was his home for many years. The location was picturesque and beautiful, with a grove of stately trees of natural growth, festooned with gray Spanish moss. The house was a comfortable log building with open hall in the center. In those days the aesthetic was not considered so necessary a part of life as at the present time, and the wealthiest and most cultivated girls would marry and leave luxurious homes to begin life in a plain but comfortable log house.

In a southwesterly direction from Cahaba, beyond the old cemetery, was the road to White Bluff and Orrville. Orrville was at this time only a small settlement of three or four wealthy, influential families, composed of the Smiths, the Craigs, the Orrs, and one or two others whose names I can't recall - near Foulton, which was a place of some importance in the early forties, with a number of inhabitants and a large, flourishing school, but in a decade ceased to exist and became an abandoned village.

Four or five miles from Orrvile, in a southwesterly direction, was another settlement of refined, wealthy people, living in beautiful homes, surrounded by large plantations. This was known as the Providence Church community - a Baptist community composed of the Cochrans, the Vaughns, the Cobbs, the Youngs, the Hardaways, the Ellises, the Hatchers, the Kennedys, and many other substantial citizens too numerous to mention, but all of whom mingled freely in the business and social life of Cahaba, and whose young ladies were among the most admired of that period. Particularly do I recall Miss Puss Mosely, Miss Ellen Cochran, and Miss Alice Smith, a stepdaughter of Mr. Atlas J. Martin, among the county belles of the late sixties.

At the large protracted meetings, held once or twice a year at these numerous country churches, were to be found represented much of the wealth, beauty, and refinement of the county, and strangers were always impressed with the general prosperity that everywhere seemed to prevail. The scene was a bright and happy one: the young men, driving handsome equipages or riding spirited, well-caparisoned horses; the young ladies mounted on steeds trained especially for their own use or, dressed in the height of the style, reclined in the large family carriage attended by a colored maid; the kind, old-fashioned, motherly ladies, with their large turkey-tail fans and cordial, old-time greeting. And the dinners! The most appetizing meats, the most delicious pastries and cakes, brought in large hamper baskets, spread on improvised tables, and served between the morning and evening sermons under the shade of the trees, are memories on which we all love to dwell, and which brighten the lives of many who have now passed their three score years and ten.

The Providence Church community responded nobly to the call for volunteers in the Confederate service. In the roll call of the Cahaba Rifles alone are to be found the names of two of the Ellis family, three or four of the Hatcher family, two from the Swann family, and three from the Mosely family, not to mention others who volunteered in other commands. After Capt. C. C. Pegues was appointed colonel of the Fifth Alabama Regiment, Dr. E. B. Mosely was elected captain of the Cahaba Rifles, and commanded that company until the war ended.

Still farther west from Orrville was the Pegues, the Irby, and the Ellerbee neighborhood, near the edge of the county; while seven miles back from Portland, on the Alabama River, was the Boykin settlement, composed of the Boykin, the James, the Oliver, and the Reeves families - all of whom were wealthy, cultured, and refined people, who attended all the social functions in Cahaba and entertained royally at their country homes. Especially during "court week" was Dallas County represented by her most influential citizens, and nowhere could there have been found a higher class of representative men than those who assembled in Cahaba at that time from these surrounding country precincts.

Two and a half miles from Cahaba, on the Orrville road, on a high elevation overlooking the town, was the old Beene place, at one time the home of Mrs. William Beene, one of the most beautiful and gifted women of her day. Mr. Beene was a first cousin of William L. Yancey and a nephew of Judge William E. Bird, of Cahaba. Back of the Beene place was Mt. Nebo, the country residence of Judge Campbell, a picturesque and romantic spot in a large pine grove. Farther out, on the Orrville road, was the long, high Saltmarsh hill, on the top of which was located another spacious country house, surrounded by wealth and luxury, with its numerous slaves and an extensive, well-improved plantation, the home of Dr. Saltmarsh, a wealthy, public-spirited gentleman of Northern birth who married a Miss Beck, sister of the late Col. Thomas R. Beck, of Camden, Ala., and a niece of Hon. William R. King. Beyond the Saltmarsh place was the large two-story Mitchell house, standing in a magnificent grove of forest trees. Beyond the Mitchell place was the home of Mrs. Peter Mathews, now known as the Chambliss place. This was an ideal spot, overlooking the high bluffs of the Alabama River, and also surrounded by a handsome grove of old trees. The beautiful residence was fitted up with all the luxury that heart could wish or mind desire - handsome furniture, rare books, beautiful paintings, and a stable filled with fine horses and elegant carriages. Here was the lifetime home of the stately and accomplished Mattie Mathews, one of the lovely girls of Dallas County in the early sixties, and who afterward became the wife of Major N. Chambliss, from Tennessee. Still farther out, on the White Bluff road, were the homes of Judge Le Noir, Judge Griffin, and Gilbert Johnson, all beautifully improved places. Down in the south bend of the Alabama River were the large plantations of the Molett family, with their hundreds of slaves, many of whom were native-born Africans and could speak only the African lingo.

Skirting the Cahaba River in a westerly direction, for a short distance is the Marion and Cahaba road. A mile and a half out on this road, just beyond Clear Creek, was the old Haralson place, where Judge John Haralson, now of the Supreme Court of Alabama, was born. After crossing Clear Creek, there is a gradual rise in the surface of the country for two miles or more until we reach the old Frank Saunders residence, which is located on one of the high plateaus of the Cahaba River, with the plantation lying in front of the house and extending back into the valleys on the river. Following this road, we come to the old Basin Spring, with its romantic glades, redolent in springtime with the refreshing perfume of the bay flower, yellow jasmine, and wild honeysuckle. Here were given many of the barbecues and picnics of antebellum days, when the wealth and beauty of Cahaba and the surrounding country were in full attendance. Beyond Basin Spring was another one of Dr. Saltmarsh's large plantations, with its long lane of three miles bordered on each side by a tall rail fence and shaded occasionally by peach trees, which in springtime presented a pretty picture - the brilliant pink blossoms, the green, waving com, and the happy, contented faces of the negroes working and singing in the fields. At the end of Saltmarsh Lane was the Muckel place, afterward the plantation home of A. H. Jackson, a young lawyer of Cahaba, who married Miss Jennie Gill, a daughter of Dr. T. W. Gill. The house stood in the midst of a grove of large, majestic beech trees. On the east side was, and is now, one of the loveliest landscapes ever presented to the eye of man, a sublime picture that would inspire the artist at the rising or at the setting of the sun: the Cahaba hills, with the river winding like a belt of silver in and around its green, fertile valleys, while far in the hazy distance are the forests on or beyond the Alabama River. Above the Muckel place, and lying immediately on the Cahaba and Marion road, was the farm of Thomas Carr. Adjoining the Carr place were the plantation and residence of Mrs. Elizabeth Taylor, which formerly belonged to her brother William Gill, a lawyer and one of the earliest settlers of Cahaba. Beyond the Taylor place was the plantation of Mr. William Curtis, the father of Mrs. Eliza Babcock and Mrs. Dr. Ulmer, of Cahaba. and one of the oldest residents of the town.

A mile from the Curtis place was Walnut Grove, the residence of Dr. T. W. Gill, the honored grandfather of the writer, surrounded by a plantation of two thousand acres. Here, too, was a large, handsome house built in the old colonial style, a home with everything to make life happy, contented, and comfortable. Smokehouses, storehouses, and corncribs filled to overflowing, well-trained servants to obey one's slightest wish. Sideboards groaning beneath the weight of handsome silver and beautiful china, horses to ride and drive at pleasure, large pastures with blooded stock grazing on luxuriant clover and blue grass, equal to any in Tennessee or Kentucky. Another typical Southern home, where wealth and plenty abounded, and which presented a fine illustration of Southern life during the last years of the South's prosperity.

Into these country homes visitors would come in crowds, and they were expected to remain as long as they felt inclined. Everything was done to contribute to their pleasure and amusement, and each person was made to feel that he or she conferred an honor in accepting the extended hospitality. Gentlemen would arrive on horseback and the ladies in carriages, not open or covered buggies or one-horse vehicles, but closed family carriages, such as were used by the English nobility at their country seats, drawn by well trained carriage horses or large, fine mules kept expressly for that purpose, covered with harness mounted in silver plate, a negro driver in the coachman's box, the ladies waiting maid beside him, and a negro boy occupying the little seat behind as footman. Servants waited to open the large entrance gate and take charge of the horses; and, after a cordial welcome, the guests were made to feel unconstrained and allowed to seek their own way of entertaining themselves.

The gentlemen were shown the growing crops on the plantation by their host, or taken out to hunt, armed with the finest guns, or with the hounds on a fox chase. The rest of the time was devoted to the ladies, who, with their small, jeweled hands, soft and white, and tastefully dressed in the fashion of the day- wide, flowing robes, large hoops, thread lace scarfs, handsome jewelry of cameo or coral - and smooth, beautifully braided hair (which it required a full hour for a maid to arrange), spent the morning hours of summer in reading, conversation, or fine needlework. After the midday nap, the afternoons were passed in visiting, riding, or driving; and the evening was given up to music and dancing until exhausted with the mere pleasure of living, one sought rest and slumber in the sensuous delight of linen sheets, lavender scented, or in winter found unspeakable comfort in the soft, downy feather beds of the high, old-fashioned, canopy top bedsteads, to sink to sleep in the golden glow of the hickory logs, and awaken in the morning with a maid standing at the bedside with a cup of fragrant coffee. There was no hurry; no special labor was pressing. None were in haste to leave. The climate, the great abundance, the warm-hearted hospitality, made existence in any of these homes an unceasing delight. It was the "charmed land of the lotus-eaters," where life seemed one long, sweet dream of pleasure.

Back on the Cahaba River was the home of J. B. Gill, another comfortable country place, surrounded by fertile lands. West of Dr. T. W. Gill's place, near the Marion and Orrville road, were the handsomely improved place of Nathan Jackson and the home of Mr. Robert G. Craig, surrounded by their large plantations and numerous negroes. Adjoining these places was the plantation of Rees D. Gayle, another valuable estate, with its two hundred slaves and rich, fertile lands. In all the South there could not have been found a more beautiful and prosperous and self-sustaining country than was here - plantations in splendid condition, droves of fat horses and mules, herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, goats, and droves of hogs; the slaves happy and contented, with a magnificent prospect of fine crops; vast fields of waving corn, luxuriant oats, and wheat and rice heavy in sheath; cotton green and growing, all worked out ready to lay by until harvest time; corncribs full of last year's corn; thousands of pounds of fat bacon and hams, hickory flavored, bags* of molasses hanging from the rafters, and sacks of flour fresh from the mill, filling the smokehouses and the rooms, and hundreds of yards of homemade cloth spun and woven for clothing for the field hands and house servants; but alas! in May the surrender came, and ruin followed. The negroes, elated with freedom, abandoned their homes, left their houses, their household goods and clothing - all but what they wore - and flocked to the Yankee camp to become pensioners of the government and spend their time in idleness, while the plantations grew up in weeds; plows lay idle where they had been abandoned in the fields, and stock were left to graze in the pastures. On my father's plantation alone, eight hundred hogs were turned out to go wild in the swamp because there was no one to feed and care for them.

The question now arose how to get the growing crops harvested. My father concluded he would go to Selma and offer his negroes one-half of the crop to return home and gather it. As he rode into the camp, the first person he spied was an old woman named Patty, one of his slaves inherited from his mother, and the one of all others who expressed the greatest devotion to her "young master," as she called him. For years half bent with rheumatism, Patty had not known work, and went hobbling around on a stick; but lo! freedom had worked a marvelous change - now, with head erect, she was stepping around as agile and spry as a young girl that had never known an ache or pain. Her master called to her: "Come here, Patty; I want to speak to you." She turned, saw who it was, and flounced off, exclaiming: "Lord a massie, chile, I ain't got time to fool with you now." This was a novel experience to my father - the first time in his life a negro had ever refused to come at his bidding - and to be answered in this offhand manner, especially by one of his old slaves, was too much to be borne. He concluded to make no further overtures, and returned home, gave the crop to the Confederate soldiers, who reaped a rich harvest in the fall, thus enabling many of them to make a new start in life. But a sad and fearful change has swept over this beautiful country, and though
The harvest moon shines with the same old splendor,
Our lands lie barren and bare;
And the cheerful song of the old-time slave
No longer resounds on the air.

No longer the ring of the ax is heard
Nor the corn-song over the hill;
The banjo is silent, the dance is done.
Its music forever is still.

The sound of the horn is heard no more,
Nor the neigh of the hunter's steed;
Nor the yelp of the fox, nor the bay of the hounds,
Resounding over the mead,

The planter has gone, with his lordly grace;
His home is in alien hands;
His children are ruined, dead, or lost.
Or struggling in foreign lands.

His house is left deserted and lone -
All, all have gone away;
And its falling roof and crumbling walls
Are fast falling to decay.

The door stands open, gaping wide.
Creaking on one binge;
And the ghosts of former wealth and pride
Are all who now come in.

Save here and there, some lone old home,
Heir to a sadder fate,
With rough, rude negroes, former slaves,
Inhabiting its rooms of state.

Not a mark is left of the former glory -
Of this land in its beauty and pride;
Not a soul is left to tell the story;
They have all passed away and died.

Nine or ten miles from Cahaba, a mile or more off from the Cahaba and Marion road, was Prosperity Church, known as "The Seceder Church," in charge of the Rev. John Young. In the surrounding country were the Johnsons, the Chestnuts, the Spears, and Capt. Robert Moore's plantation. Five miles distant was Harrel's Crossroads, another country settlement of the Harrels, the Forts, the Craigs, the Chisholms, Voltzes, and Capt. John Moore's family - all planters in affluent circumstances, with comfortable homes, where a belated traveler ever found a sweet night's rest, and where friends and relatives always received a cordial and sincere welcome from those good, old time people, whom it was always a pleasure to visit. These communities did the greater part of their buying and selling in Cahaba, and also contributed a number of volunteers to the Cahaba Rifles - brave, valiant young men, several of whom yielded their lives on the field of battle. The women, too, did a noble part in the cause of the Confederacy: with their own hands they spun and wove the finest of jeans and made it into clothes for the soldiers. It was a labor of love that they would not entrust to their servants, many of whom were skilled in the art of weaving; and the finest and most beautiful cloth made during the war was to be seen in this community.

Across the Alabama River from Cahaba were other planters - representative men - also with beautiful and luxurious homes, large plantations, and numberless slaves. There resided Col. Thomas M. Mathews, Col. Robert Hatcher, the Saffolds, the Milhouses, the Davises, the Pickenses, the Minters, the Calhouns, the Wades, the Winnamores, the Vassers, the Smiths, Judge Harris, and Josiah Walker, and Dr. Rees, with his deer park and beautiful grounds surrounding his residence. There, too, was the Cornegay place, the old home of William R. King, Ex-Vice President of the United States, surrounded by a heavy grove of  chestnut trees, which he highly prized. In the family burial ground, near the house, was the marble vault, where his remains rested until a few years ago, when they were removed to Selma.

In the bend of the Alabama River, just above Cahaba, was another beautiful place, the home of Mrs. Sarah Blackwell, which was always the scene of social mirth and attraction. On the Cahaba road, leading to Selma, about two or two and a half miles from town, was the McCurdy plantation, the home of Mr. McCurdy and his daughter, now Mrs. Dr. Henry, of Montgomery; and in the same vicinity was the residence of Col. William Saunders, whose lovely daughters were also among the most admired girls of Dallas County. Five miles from Cahaba, on the Selma road, was the beautiful Kirk Harrison place, with its fine race track, which afterwards became the property of Judge John Hunter, where he kept a number of fine race horses. While many of the last-named persons were not actual citizens of Cahaba, these wealthy planters contributed greatly to the general prosperity and added much to the social life of the place.

Two large ferries on the Alabama and Cahaba Rivers furnished the means of transportation across these streams for the numerous visitors, travelers, and teams of wagons to and from the town.

​

​

​

​

​

​​

Perine Residence

​

There was a constant exchange of courtesies between the Cahabans and the old county families, and visits frequently extended themselves into days, weeks, and months. As before stated there was practically no end to the hospitality, and it would have been regarded a great breech of etiquette in extending an invitation to limit the stay of a guest or specify a time for the visit to end as is now customary.

In 1859, when the railroad was first built from Cahaba to Marion, Cahaba was in a flourishing condition; but the war came on, business was paralyzed, and the town ceased to build up and improve, although it still continued to be a place of importance. An army post and one of the largest Federal prisons in the South were located there in 1863 or 1864, and a number of refugees also sought an asylum within the town, some investing in town property; but in 1865, just before the surrender, another flood came, the post was abandoned, and, when the war ended, Cahaba began to realize that the clouds of adversity were falling fast upon her. Spartan-like, she bore her misfortune bravely and cheerfully and tried to stem the tide that had turned against her, but the effort was vain; and in 1866 her death knell was sounded when, by a vote of the people of the county, the courthouse was removed to Selma, and she, for the first time within her existence, ceased to be the county seat of Dallas County. It was a cruel blow from which the grand old place never recovered.

Many of the prominent citizens followed the courthouse to Selma; many others moved to more distant localities. A few new families came in to fill their places, and for a time Cahaba hoped at least to regain her old-time importance as a commercial center, but the hope was illusive, and in the seventies, for the third time within the memory of man, the town became a deserted village. The scenes of 1826 were repeated. The doors of the business houses were all closed and locked, the stately homes were abandoned and deserted. Flowers again bloomed untended in the lovely yards and grass covered the principal streets. An air of loneliness and desolation impossible to describe encompassed the place. Where wealth and fashion a few short years before held unlimited sway, ruin and desolation now danced in high carnival, and one could but exclaim: "Time! Time! how inscrutable are thy changes!"

In reviewing the history of Cahaba, it seemed a most fatuous blindness on the part of those early commissioners appointed to locate the capital that they did not select one of the many majestic bluffs, with their broad plateaus, bordering the Alabama River farther south, for a site of the town; but
"When self the waving balance shakes.
It's rarely right adjusted."

And it has been whispered that some of these commissioners were land speculators, or in the hands of land speculators, and self-interest was the motive that prompted the unfortunate selection of the place. Be that as it may; but certain it is that, had the town been built on a more solid foundation, it might to-day be one of, the principal cities, if not the capital, of the State.

But those beautiful scenes are no more. All those noble, grand old people have passed away, and their like will never be seen again, because the conditions and surroundings that produced them are no longer a part of the South. They are gone never to return, and Cahaba, like Rome, must ever remain a Niobe of the nation, a mother bereft of her children, to whom our hearts still cling with living enthusiasm in memory of her departed glory. Though long years have passed and the ruin is now perfect and complete, the site of the old town is still a lovely spot, where the pure, limpid waters gush unceasingly from the artesian wells; where the flowers planted long years ago still bloom in perennial spring in the old-time yards; where the mocking bird still sings in springtime, and the Cherokee roses, full with blossoms, shed their snowy petals along the deserted streets; where the sweet breath of the china blossom is wafted by the night breeze; where the stars still shine in all their brilliant beauty, and the moon rises in its old-time splendor enfolding the ruined town in its soft, mellow light and lovingly shadows the graves of the dead who, when living, were among the most refined, cultivated, and intellectual people that ever adorned the State of Alabama.