飘

in　its　conflicts　with　the　self…willed　and　vigorous　new。　Moreover；　there　was　something　personal；　exciting　about　a　town　that　was　born—or　at　least　christened—the　same　year　she　was　christened。
　
　The　night　before　had　been　wild　and　wet　with　rain；　but　when　Scarlett　arrived　in　Atlanta　a　warm　sun　was　at　work；　bravely　attempting　to　dry　the　streets　that　were　winding　rivers　of　red　mud。　In　the　open　space　around　the　depot；　the　soft　ground　had　been　cut　and　churned　by　the　constant　flow　of　traffic　in　and　out　until　it　resembled　an　enormous　hog　wallow；　and　here　and　there　vehicles　were　mired　to　the　hubs　in　the　ruts。　A　never…ceasing　line　of　army　wagons　and　ambulances；　loading　and　unloading　supplies　and　wounded　from　the　trains；　made　the　mud　and　confusion　worse　as　they　toiled　in　and　struggled　out；　drivers　swearing；　mules　plunging　and　mud　spattering　for　yards。
　Scarlett　stood　on　the　lower　step　of　the　train；　a　pale　pretty　figure　in　her　black　mourning　dress；　her　crêpe　veil　fluttering　almost　to　her　heels。　She　hesitated；　unwilling　to　soil　her　slippers　and　hems；　and　looked　about　in　the　shouting　tangle　of　wagons；　buggies　and　carriages　for　Miss　Pittypat。　There　was　no　sign　of　that　chubby　pink…cheeked　lady；　but　as　Scarlett　searched　anxiously　a　spare　old　negro；　with　grizzled　kinks　and　an　air　of　dignified　authority；　came　toward　her　through　the　mud；　his　hat　in　his　hand。
　“Dis　Miss　Scarlett；　ain’　it？　Dis　hyah　Peter；　Miss　Pitty’s　coachman。　Doan　step　down　in　dat　mud；”　he　ordered　severely；　as　Scarlett　gathered　up　her　skirts　preparatory　to　descending。　“You　is　as　bad　as　Miss　Pitty　an’　she　lak　a　chile　‘bout　gittin’　her　feets　wet。　Lemme　cahy　you。”
　He　picked　Scarlett　up　with　ease　despite　his　apparent　frailness　and　age　and；　observing　Prissy　standing　on　the　platform　of　the　train；　the　baby　in　her　arms；　he　paused：　“Is　dat　air　chile　yo’　nuss？　Miss　Scarlett；　she　too　young　ter　be　handlin’　Mist’　Charles’　onlies’　baby！　But　we　ten’　to　dat　later。　You　gal；　foller　me；　an’　doan　you　go　drappin’　dat　baby。”
　Scarlett　submitted　meekly　to　being　carried　toward　the　carriage　and　also　to　the　peremptory　manner　in　which　Uncle　Peter　criticized　her　and　Prissy。　As　they　went　through　the　mud　with　Prissy　sloshing；　pouting；　after　them；　she　recalled　what　Charles　had　said　about　Uncle　Peter。
　“He　went　through　all　the　Mexican　campaigns　with　Father；　nursed　him　when　he　was　wounded—in　fact；　he　saved　his　life。　Uncle　Peter　practically　raised　Melanie　and　me；　for　we　were　very　young　when　Father　and　Mother　died。　Aunt　Pitty　had　a　falling　out　with　her　brother；　Uncle　Henry；　about　that　time；　so　she　came　to　live　with　us　and　take　care　of　us。　She　is　the　most　helpless　soul—just　like　a　sweet　grown…up　child；　and　Uncle　Peter　treats　her　that　way。　To　save　her　life；　she　couldn’t　make　up　her　mind　about　anything；　so　Peter　makes　it　up　for　her。　He　was　the　one　who　decided　I　should　have　a　larger　allowance　when　I　was　fifteen；　and　he　insisted　that　I　should　go　to　Harvard　for　my　senior　year；　when　Uncle　Henry　wanted　me　to　take　my　degree　at　the　University。　And　he　decided　when　Melly　was　old　enough　to　put　up　her　hair　and　go　to　parties。　He　tells　Aunt　Pitty　when　it’s　too　cold　or　too　wet　for　her　to　go　calling　and　when　she　should　wear　a　shawl。　…　He’s　the　smartest　old　darky　I’ve　ever　seen　and　about　the　most　devoted。　The　only　trouble　with　him　is　that　he　owns　the　three　of　us；　body　and　soul；　and　he　knows　it。”
　Charles’　words　were　confirmed　as　Peter　climbed　onto　the　box　and　took　the　whip。
　“Miss　Pitty　in　a　state　bekase　she　din’　come　ter　meet　you。　She’s　feared　you　mout　not　unnerstan’　but　Ah　tole　her　she　an’　Miss　Melly　jes’　git　splashed　wid　mud　an’　ruin　dey　new　dresses　an’　Ah’d　‘splain　ter　you。　Miss　Scarlett；　you　better　tek　dat　chile。　Dat　lil　pickaninny　gwine　let　it　drap。”
　Scarlett　looked　at　Prissy　and　sighed。　Prissy　was　not　the　most　adequate　of　nurses。　Her　recent　graduation　from　a　skinny　pickaninny　with　brief　skirts　and　stiffly　wrapped　braids　into　the　dignity　of　a　calico　dress　and　starched　white　turban　was　an　intoxicating　affair。　She　would　never　have　arrived　at　this　eminence　so　early　in　life　had　not　the　exigencies　of　war　and　the　demands　of　the　commissary　department　on　Tara　made　it　impossible　for　Ellen　to　spare　Mammy　or　Dilcey　or　even　Rosa　or　Teena。　Prissy　had　never　been　more　than　a　mile　away　from　Twelve　Oaks　or　Tara　before；　and　the　trip　on　the　train　plus　her　elevation　to　nurse　was　almost　more　than　the　brain　in　her　little　black　skull　could　bear。　The　twenty…mile　journey　from　Jonesboro　to　Atlanta　had　so　excited　her　that　Scarlett　had　been　forced　to　hold　the　baby　all　the　way。　Now；　the　sight　of　so　many　buildings　and　people　completed　Prissy’s　demoralization。　She　twisted　from　side　to　side；　pointed；　bounced　about　and　so　jounced　the　baby　that　he　wailed　miserably。
　Scarlett　longed　for　the　fat　old　arms　of　Mammy。　Mammy　had　only　to　lay　hands　on　a　child　and　it　hushed　crying。　But　Mammy　was　at　Tara　and　there　was　nothing　Scarlett　could　do。　It　was　useless　for　her　to　take　little　Wade　from　Prissy。　He　yelled　just　as　loudly　when　she　held　him　as　when　Prissy　did。　Besides；　he　would　tug　at　the　ribbons　of　her　bonnet　and；　no　doubt；　rumple　her　dress。　So　she　pretended　she　had　not　heard　Uncle　Peter’s　suggestion。
　“Maybe　I’ll　learn　about　babies　sometime；”　she　thought　irritably；　as　the　carriage　jolted　and　swayed　out　of　the　morass　surrounding　the　station；　“but　I’m　never　going　to　like　fooling　with　them。”　And　as　Wade’s　face　went　purple　with　his　squalling；　she　snapped　crossly：　“Give　him　that　sugar…tit　in　your　pocket；　Priss。　Anything　to　make　him　hush。　I　know　he’s　hungry；　but　I　can’t　do　anything　about　that　now。”
　Prissy　produced　the　sugar…tit；　given　her　that　morning　by　Mammy；　and　the　baby’s　wails　subsided。　With　quiet　restored　and　with　the　new　sights　that　met　her　eyes；　Scarlett’s　spirits　began　to　rise　a　little。　When　Uncle　Peter　finally　maneuvered　the　carriage　out　of　the　mudholes　and　onto　Peachtree　Street；　she　felt　the　first　surge　of　interest　she　had　known　in　months。　How　the　town　had　grown！　It　was　not　much　more　than　a　year　since　she　had　last　been　here；　and　it　did　not　seem　possible　that　the　little　Atlanta　she　knew　could　have　changed　so　much。
　For　the　past　year；　she　had　been　so　engrossed　in　her　own　woes；　so　bored　by　any　mention　of　war；　she　did　not　know　that　from　the　minute　the　fighting　first　began；　Atlanta　had　been　transformed。　The　same　railroads　which　had　made　the　town　the　crossroads　of　commerce　in　time　of　peace　were　now　of　vital　strategic　importance　in　time　of　war。　Far　from　the　battle　lines；　the　town　and　its　railroads　provided　the　connecting　link　between　the　two　armies　of　the　Confederacy；　the　army　in　Virginia　and　the　army　in　Tennessee　and　the　West　And　Atlanta　likewise　linked　both　of　the　armies　with　the　deeper　South　from　which　they　drew　their　supplies。　Now；　in　response　to　the　needs　of　war；　Atlanta　had　become　a　manufacturing　center；　a　hospital　base　and　one　of　the　South’s　chief　depots　for　the　collecting　of　food　and　supplies　for　the　armies　in　the　field。
　Scarlett　looked　about　her　for　the　little　town　she　remembered　so　well。　It　was　gone。　The　town　she　was　now　seeing　was　like　a　baby　grown　overnight　into　a　busy；　sprawling　giant。
　Atlanta　was　humming　like　a　beehive；　proudly　conscious　of　its　importance　to　the　Confederacy；　and　work　was　going　forward　night　and　day　toward　turning　an　agricultural　section　into　an　industrial　one。　Before　the　war　there　had　been　few　cotton　factories；　woolen　mills；　arsenals　and　machine　shops　south　of　Maryland—a　fact　of　which　all　Southerners　were　proud。　The　South　produced　statesmen　and　soldiers；　planters　and　doctors；　lawyers　and　poets；　but　certainly　not　engineers　or　mechanics。　Let　the　Yankees　adopt　such　low　callings。　But　now　the　Confederate　ports　were　stoppered　with　Yankee　gunboats；　only　a　trickle　of　blockade…run　goods　was　slipping　in　from　Europe；　and　the　South　was　desperately　trying　to　manufacture　her　own　war　materials。　The　North　could　call　on　the　whole　world　for　supplies　and　for　soldiers；　and　thousands　of　Irish　and　Germans　were　pouring　into　the　Union　Army；　lured　by　the　bounty　money　offered　by　the　North。　The　South　could　only　turn　in　upon　itself。
　In　Atlanta；　there　were　machine　factories　tediously　turning　out　machinery　to　manufacture　war　materials—tediously；　because　there　were　few　machines　in　the　South　from　which　they　could　model　and　nearly　every　wheel　and　cog　had　to　be　made　from　drawings　that　came　through　the　blockade　from　England。　There　were　strange　faces　on　the　streets　of　Atlanta　now；　and　citizens　who　a　year　ago　would　have　pricked　op　their　ears　at　the　sound　of　even　a　Western　accent　paid　no　heed　to　the　foreign　tongues　of　Europeans　who　had　run　the　blockade　to　build　machines　and　turn　out　Confederate　munitions。　Skilled　men　these；　without　whom　the　Confederacy　would　have　been　hard　put　to　make　pistols；　rifles；　cannon　and　powder。
　Almost　the　poising　of　the　town’s　heart　could　be　felt　as　the　work　went　forward　night　and　day；　pumping　the　materials　of　war　up　the　railway　arteries　to　the　two　battle　fronts。　Trains　roared　in　and　out　of　the　town　at　all　hours。　Soot　from　the　newly　erected　factories　fell　in　showers　on　the　white　houses。　By　night；　the　furnaces　glowed　and　the　hammers　clanged　long　after　townsfolk　were　abed。　Where　vacant　lots　had　been　a　year　before；　there　were　now　factories　turning　out　harness；　saddl