|Birth: ||Nov. 8, 1837|
|Death: ||Jun. 30, 1912|
on same stone with Mattie R. Stockard.
Pg. 55 "Co. Aytch, by Samuel Watkins"
Recollections of David Franklin Stockard, Clack's 3rd Tn. Regiment Co. D.
"But after the little unpleasant episode in the rifle pit, I went back and took my stand. When in early day, I saw
the bright and beautiful star in the east rise above the tree tops, and the gray fog from off the river begun to
rise, and every now and then could hear a far off chicken crow. While I was looking toward the Yankee line,
I saw a man riding leisurely along on horseback, and singing a sort of humdrum tune. I took him to be some old
citizen. He rode on down the road toward me, and when he had approached, "Who goes there?" He immediately
answered, "A friend." I thought that I recognized the voice in the darkness--and said I, "Who are you?" He
spoke up, and gave me his name. Then, said I, "Advance, friend, but you are my prisoner." He rode on toward
me, and I soon saw that it was Mr. MUMFORD SMITH, the old sheriff of Maury county. I was very glad to
see him, and as soon as the relief guard came, I went back to camp with him. I do not remember of ever in my
life being more glad to see any person. He had brought a letter from home, from my father, and some Confederate
old issue bonds, which I was mighty glad to get, and also a letter from "the gal I left behind me," enclosing a
rosebud and two apple blossoms, resting on an arbor vita leaf, and this on a little piece of white paper, and on
this was written a motto (which I will have to tell for the young folks), "Receive me, such as I am; would that
I were of more use for your sake. JENNIE." Now, that was the bouquet part. I would not like to tell you what
was in that letter, but I read that letter over five hundred times, and remember it today. I think I can repeat
the poetry _verbatim et literatim_, and will do so, gentle reader, if you don't laugh at me. I'm married now,
and only write from memory, and never in my life have I read it in book or paper, and only in that letter-- "I
love you, O, how dearly, Words too faintly but express; This heart beats too sincerely, E'er in life to love you
less; No, my fancy never ranges, Hopes like mine, can never soar; If the love I cherish, changes, 'Twill only be
to love you more." Now, fair and gentle reader, this was the poetry, and you see for yourself that there was
no "shenanigan" in that letter; and if a fellow "went back" on that sort of a letter, he would strike his "mammy."
And then the letter wound up with "May God shield and protect you, and prepare you for whatever is in store
for you, is the sincere prayer of JENNIE." You may be sure that I felt good and happy, indeed. MY FRIENDS."
Martha Rebecca Gilmer Stockard (1852 - 1918)
Jeremiah Reese Stockard (1882 - 1895)*
Ruby Stockard Cheatham (1893 - 1977)*
Reeses Chapel Cemetery
Maintained by: Mary Bob McClain
Originally Created by: Judy B. Forgos
Record added: Mar 24, 2007
Find A Grave Memorial# 18571262