The author of these pages first saw the light of day at the family home of his father, Mr. Miles Gary Macon, called “Fairfield,” situated on the banks of that historic river, the “Chicahominy,” in the good old County of Hanover, in Virginia. My grandfather, Colonel William Hartwell Macon, started each of his sons on the voyage of life with a farm, and the above was allotted to my respected parent. Belonging to the place, about one or two miles from the dwelling, was a grist mill known as “Mekenses,” and how the name of “Macon” could have been corrupted to “Mekenses,” is truly unaccountable, yet such is the case. The City of Richmond was distant about eight miles to the South. This old homestead passed out of the Macon family possession about seventy years ago, and a Mr. Overton succeeded my father in the ownership of “Fairfield” and the mill. Later a Doctor Gaines purchased it. My highly respected parents were the fortunate possessors of a large and flourishing family of ten children, all of whom were born at “Fairfield.”

The Macon manor house was situated just on the edge of the famous trucking section of Hanover County, which agricultural characteristic gave its soil an extensive reputation for the production of the celebrated and highly-prized melons and sweet potatoes of Hanover, known to
 
Eastern Virginia for their toothsomeness and great size. This fine old plantation was surrounded by country estates belonging to Virginia families, who were very sociable, cultured and agreeable people. My father and mother were thoroughly imbued with the spirit of that old-time genial country hospitality, which was never found anywhere in this country more cordial, nor probably even equal, to it. It afforded them infinite pleasure to visit and to receive the calls of their neighbors. It was then the invariable custom, when guests were entertained, for the host to set out refreshments, always the best the larder afforded, and to insist upon a liberal partaking of it, for a refusal of the good cheer was indeed a rare thing, and it was not considered polite to decline joining in wishing good health and prosperity to your friends and neighbors, always of course in moderate bumpers, not in excess, and then the viands bountifully spread out were truly tempting, real old Virginia style of cooking, such as beaten biscuits that would almost melt in one’s mouth, and other dishes almost too numerous to mention, and then such a hearty welcome accompanied the feast and “flow of soul,” and when the parting came there was always an appealing invitation for a “speedy coming again”—a wish for another visit.

Now there was no sham-pretence in these old Virginia manners, but genuine heartfelt hospitality, which sprang from kind hearts. A striking habit or custom at that happy period in the “Old Dominion” life in the country was the intrusting of the white children of the family to the care of a good old colored nurse, or “Mammy,” as they were affectionately called by them; their mothers turned the children over to their watchful supervision and they were truly faithful and proud of their control
 
of the little young masters and mistresses, thus relieving their “old mistress” of all care in rearing them. Well do I remember my “old Mammy,” whose kindness and affectionate treatment, not only won my heart, but my prompt obedience to her commands and my cheerful recognition of the authority delegated her by my fond mother. I was the youngest of the family, and as time was welding each link in the chain of my life, it was passing like, as in all families at that period, situated as my parents were, smoothly and unruffled by excitement or troubles abroad. My mother owned a number of slaves, or servants, as Virginians generally termed them, whom she treated with kindness, and when sick she nursed them with the skill and tender consideration accorded members of her own family, and in return they looked up to, and respected, her; indeed revered “Old Missus,” as they often called her.