February ___[1], 1864.—We have been at Goodwood three days now and there is so much to write about. The first night Aunt Sue invited all the social world of Tallahassee to meet Colonel Capers. He came, attended by fifty or more of his men, the artillery uniform is beautiful and it is particularly becoming to Colonel Capers. I am sure he knows it for I notice he keeps one end of his cape thrown back over his shoulder, bringing the red lining next his face. He wore a vest of fine red broadcloth, buttoned up with round balls of silver for buttons and that added much to the beauty of his uniform.
When I was introduced to him, he said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bradford. I have already had the pleasure of an acquaintance with your father and mother,” and then he stood there and gave a glowing account of that most unique dinner at Pine Hill, and he added, “I wrote a full description to my wife before I slept that night.”
Lizzie Wirt pinched my arm and whispered, “Horrid creature—I hate married men.”
The music was good and we were soon dancing the Lancers. My partner was Sergeant Clayton, young and handsome and a graceful dancer. The couple opposite were evidently talking about us and presently the gentleman, who was one of the sergeant’s comrades, said, “Clayton, you and Miss Bradford are enough alike to be brother and sister.”
“Yes,” answered my partner, with an apologetic look at me, “As soon as I entered the room I noticed the strong likeness to my sister and when I was introduced was sure we must be related, for my name is Edward Bradford Clayton.”
Of course we claimed kin on that; Uncle Arvah says all Southern people are kin anyway. It is just a part of being born South of Mason and Dixon’s Line. I like the new cousin very much and he told me a great deal of army life and of his commander, whom he loves dearly.
[1] This diary was written in pencil and in many instances the dates are almost, or quite, illegible. The month and year are plain but the figures are not so plain; particularly is this the case during the years of warfare, possibly the pencils were poor, or the paper might have been. At any rate we ask our readers to be lenient if some little mistakes occur.
Susan Bradford is nearly 17 years old when this entry was made.