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RECOLLECTIONS OF A CONFEDERATE GENERAL BY JUBAL DE BROOKE
Liverpool, England, November, 1863.
The liberal dimensions of the parsonage dwarfed the squat Saxon church I’d passed, some fifty yards down the lane.
The parson, George Micklewycke, showed me into his drawing room whose lofty walls were adorned with watercolours of rustic idylls. There was nothing about this well-appointed country house, some one half mile from the gates of Astrop Castle, that spoke of ascetic devotion.
“Lord Puddlenorth sent word of your requirements, General,” he said. “Of course, I will do whatever is within my gift to aid you.” His pillowed cheeks and ample belly suggested a life of plenty. So, too, did his attire: a fine velveteen frock coat over a black satin waistcoat and back-to-front dog collar tha
