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Updated: June 3, 2025
Every reader of Belle Boyd's narrative will remember an allusion to a "lovely, fragile-looking girl of nineteen," who rivalled Belle Boyd in devotion to the Southern cause, and who, like her, earned the enviable distinction of being a "rebel spy." I am that "fragile" young creature. Although on friendly terms with the late Miss Boyd, now Mrs.
It was here Manson received his first promotion to a corporal's position, and he was afterward made sergeant. In the spring that followed, and almost one year from the day he first told Liddy of his love, came the battle of Boyd's Trail. Five days after, when the moon was full one night, he wrote by the light of a camp fire: "Do you remember one year ago to-day, and where we were and what I said?
It was Nutty Boyd's habit to retire immediately after dinner to his bedroom. What he did there Elizabeth did not know. Sometimes she pictured him reading, sometimes thinking. Neither supposition was correct. Nutty never read. Newspapers bored him and books made his head ache. And as for thinking, he had the wrong shape of forehead.
"Hullo, the house!" he called. A man came out of the stable, walking with a kind of hop-skip step. His blond head was bare, silver fair in contrast to Boyd's corn yellow, and his features were thin and sharp. It was Jim Dandy, himself. "What's all this now?" he asked in that high voice Drew had last heard discussing the virtues of rival horse liniments at Red Springs.
Then he 'had a look' at my roasting-jack and ... there it is!" She indicated with an indignant sweep of the hand what she designated "a rickle o' rubbish" as the net proceeds of Boyd's industry. The artist explained himself between the mouthfuls at his third repast. "Ye see, Miss Lyon, there's nocht that spoils good work like worry on the mind. The pigs will do fine.
Boyd's 5000 pounds was the grand nucleus of finance; but vigorous subscription was carried on likewise in Sterling's young democratic circle, or wherever a member of it could find access; not without considerable result, and with a zeal that may be imagined.
Thomas Hamilton, Lady Boyd's father, was an excellent scholar and a very able man. He rose from being a simple advocate at the Scottish Bar to be Lord President of the Court of Session, after which, for his great services, he was created Earl of Haddington. Christina, his eldest daughter, inherited no small part of her father's talents and strength of character.
But when I thought of the young couple whose future depended on this ordeal, I hesitated no longer. I put on my hat and went round to Miss Boyd's house, where I knew that Mitchell was to be found at this hour. The young couple were out in the porch, looking at the moon.
Boyd's face crumpled and he flung up his arms to hide his eyes. "All right." With the aid of a sloping bank and an effort which left them both weakly panting, Boyd was mounted and they started their slow crawl once more. "Drew!" He raised his head. Boyd had straightened in the saddle and was pointing ahead, though his outstretched hand was shaking. "We made it there's home!"
"Go on, then," he said, "but don't let them catch you spying, and get back as fast as you can. It's too cold to wait about long." So off we went, Nicoll and I, and we crept across the clearing with scarcely more noise than a cat would have made. A hum of voices grew on our ears as we approached, proving that Boyd's surmise was wrong.
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