Along the Bayou or Lake St.
Joseph were many very fine cotton plantations, and I recall that of
a Mr. Bowie, brother-in-law of the Hon. Reverdy Johnson, of
Baltimore. The house was very handsome, with a fine, extensive
grass-plot in front. We entered the yard, and, leaving our horses
with the headquarters escort, walked to the house. On the
front-porch I found a magnificent grand-piano, with several
satin-covered arm-chairs, in one of which sat a Union soldier (one
of McPherson's men), with his feet on the keys of the piano, and
his musket and knapsack lying on the porch. I asked him what he
was doing there, and he answered that he was "taking a rest;" this
was manifest and I started him in a hurry, to overtake his command.
The house was tenantless, and had been completely ransacked;
articles of dress and books were strewed about, and a handsome
boudoir with mirror front had been cast down, striking a French
bedstead, shivering the glass. The library was extensive, with a
fine collection of books; and hanging on the wall were two
full-length portraits of Reverdy Johnson and his wife, one of the
most beautiful ladies of our country, with whom I had been
acquainted in Washington at the time of General Taylor's
administration.
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