The summer had been long and dry.  Now in October, the springs and

creeks seemed to have dried up and our crops were verging on failure.

For six weeks the armies had been moving back and forth past our central

Kentucky farm.  When we heard news of the battle at Perryville, only a

few miles from us, Mr. Kolb and I decided that we had had enough.  We

debated the proper remedy to our straits; I was for going back to my

family in North Carolina, but Mr. Kolb was reluctant to give up the hard

work he had put into our small farm.  We agreed to become temporary

refugees.  As the armies had taken both our mules (one by each army), we

walked to the Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill to wait matters out.

 

We had heard many stories of the wealth of the Shakers, as well as

their cautious neutrality, which had earned them mistrust on both sides

in our region.  We had also heard that the United Society of Believers,

as they called themselves, was generous in its hospitality to everyone.

When we arrived we found other refugees already there.  Although some

slept out in the open, we were fortunate enough to find accommodation

indoors.  The retiring rooms were simple but neatly appointed.

 

 I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the Mrs.

Killen, a widow from Alabama, and her travelling companion, Mrs.

Burgamy.  Mrs. Burgamy was kind enough to even loan me a dress, as my

own was in a sad state of disrepair.  Mr. Kolb and I had arrived with

only the clothes on our backs and what we could fit into a carpet bag

and an egg basket.  I soon learned that Mrs. Killen had come in search

of her missing brother-in-law, a riverboat gambler.  She wished to bring

him home to help on her farm while her sons were away.  Mrs. Burgamy was

also looking for friends and relatives from Georgia whom she had heard

were in the area.  Mrs. Killen and Mrs. Burgamy even met the Dixie Belle

steamer at the Pleasant Hill landing, but I do not think they got any

news of Mr. Killen.  I have heard rumors that the Federal army may close

river traffic on the Kentucky River, which would certainly limit his

opportunities!

Mrs. Burgamy's mission met with more success, as she spotted several acquaintances among the 48th Tennessee, which marched through the village about midday.  The skirmishers asked the refugees whether they had any food.  I merely shook my head, frightened at the thought they might take my delicious Rome apples and not-so-delicious two-day old biscuits.  Mr. Kolb answered in the negative on our behalf.  While I pondered the moral of the Loaves and Fishes (or should that be apples and biscuits?), it happened that my meagre supplies were spared, as I saw a touching tableau in front of the Trustee's Office.  Some of the Brothers served food cooked by the Sisters to the company of soldiers. They were given loaves of fresh-baked bread, ham, apples, and crocks of butter and apple butter.  The soldiers were called up in orderly fashion to receive their food, and then devoured it hungrily under the trees lining the turnpike.

 

While our new friends went to greet the steamer, Mr. Kolb and I

attended a gathering in the Meeting House, where beautiful Shaker hymns

were sung.  I confess that I was much perplexed by their style of

worship, some of which included walking back and forth in a circle and

making motions with their arms while they sang.  Some songs were even in

tongues!  To this Old School Presbyterian, it certainly seemed indecent

and *not* in order.  Their music, however, beckoned one's spirit to a

heavenly realm.  Mr. Kolb was much impressed with their manner of

worship and style of living, and suggested we stay further with the

Shakers, possibly even taking up residence with them in their junior

orders.  Although the benefits of life among the Shakers were many, I

knew that my untidiness and impulsive nature would not keep me in good

stead with their communal lifestyle.  After convincing Mr. Kolb that I

would make a poor Shaker, we decided that we would return home the next

morning, as the active hostilities seemed to have quieted.

 

 Mrs. Killen and Mrs. Burgamy had brought with them fishing rods with

the intent of feeding themselves through their own means. Unfortunately,

they had neglected to secure any bait!  Undaunted, they attached

feathers to their hooks and went fishing in the village pond. Their

resourceful efforts were sadly for naught.  A beautiful multi-colored

sunset closed the day, complete with rainbow.  Mrs. Killen, having met

with no success in locating her relation, had resolved to try further to

the west, in the area of Franklin, Tennessee.

 

 We parted from our new friends the next morning, with assurances

that we would stay in touch and meet again when circumstances permitted.

 

Your humble and obedient servant,

    Kitty Kolb