Once the staple reached neutral soil, it was palmed off as a local
product, and the Federal government dared not touch it, even though
they knew it to be contrabrand of war. The business was transacted in
gold, and it was Mr. Edwards's custom to bury the coin on his return
from each trading trip. My wife, then a mere girl and the oldest
of the children at home, was taken into her father's confidence
in secreting the money. The country was full of bandits, either
government would have confiscated the gold had they known its
whereabouts, and the only way to insure its safety was to bury it.
After several years trading in cotton, Mr. Edwards accumulated
considerable money, and on one occasion buried the treasure at night
between two trees in an adjoining wood. Unexpectedly one day he had
occasion to use some money in buying a cargo of cotton, the children
were at a distant neighbor's, and he went into the woods alone to
unearth the gold. But hogs, running in the timber, had rooted up the
ground in search of edible roots, and Edwards was unable to locate the
spot where his treasure lay buried. Fearful that possibly the money
had been uprooted and stolen, he sent for the girl, who hastily
returned. As my wife tells the story, great beads of perspiration were
dripping from her father's brow as the two entered the woods. And
although the ground was rooted up, the girl pointed out the spot,
midway between two trees, and the treasure was recovered without a
coin missing.
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