Harriett’s parents remained with the widowed woman for a while.  Had they not remained, she might not have met Gaylord Jeannette, the knight in Blue, who later became her husband.  He was a member of Company “I”, 35th Regiment.  She is still a bit breathless when she relates the details of the military wedding that followed a whirlwind courtship which had its beginning on the citadel green, where the soldiers stationed there held their dress parade.  After these parades there was dancing by the soldiers and belles who had bedecked themselves in their Sunday best and come out to be wooed by a soldier in blue.

Music was furnished by the military band which offered many patriotic numbers that awakened in the newly freed Negroes that had long been dead—­patriotism.  Harriett recalls snatches of one of these songs to which she danced when she was 20 years of age.  It is as follows: 

  Don’t you see the lightning flashing in the cane brakes,
  Looks like we gonna have a storm
  Although you’re mistaken its the Yankee soldiers
  Going to fight for Uncle Sam. 
  Old master was a colonel in the Rebel army
  Just before he had to run away—­
  Look out the battle is a-falling
  The darkies gonna occupy the land.

Harriett believes the two officers who tendered congratulations shortly after her marriage to have been Generals Gates and Beecher.  This was an added thrill to her.

As she lived a rather secluded life, Harriett Gresham can tell very little about the superstitions of her people during slavery, but knew them to be very reverent of various signs and omens.  In one she places much credence herself.  Prior to the Civil War, there were hordes of ants and everyone said this was an omen of war, and there was a war.

She was married when schools were set up for Negroes, but had no time for school.  Her master was adamant on one point and that was the danger of teaching a slave to read and write, so Harriett received little “book learning.”

Harriett Gresham is the mother of several children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Many of them are dead.  She lives at 1305 west 31st Street, Jacksonville, Florida with a grand daughter.  Her second husband is also dead.  She sits on the porch of her shabby cottage and sews the stitches that were taught her by her mistress, who is also dead.  She embroiders, crochets, knits and quilts without the aid of glasses.  She likes to show her handiwork to passersby who will find themselves listening to some of her reminiscences if they linger long enough to engage her in conversation—­for she loves to talk of the past.

She still corresponds with one of the children of her mistress, now an old woman living on what is left of a once vast estate at Barnwell, South Carolina.  The two old women are very much attached to each other and each in her letters helps to keep alive the memories of the life they shared together as mistress and slave.