University of Virginia Library

1863.

January 8th.—On the 16th of December, the day after
the last entry in my diary, I went to Richmond, and found
B. B. at the house of Mr. P., on Grace Street, surrounded
by luxury, and the recipient of unnumbered kindnesses; but
so desperately ill! The surgeons had been up all night in
the various hospitals, and, as numerous as they were, they
were sadly deficient in numbers that night. The benevolent
Dr. Bolton had taken his wife and her sister, who had
learned the art of binding up wounds, to his hospital, and
all night long they had been engaged most efficiently in
their labour of love. Other ladies were engaged in offices
of mercy. Women who had been brought up surrounded
by the delicacies and refinements of the most polished society,
and who would have paled at the sight of blood under
other circumstances, were bathing the most frightful
gashes, while others were placing the bandages. I found
B. suffering the most intense agony, and Mrs. P. agitated
and anxious. No surgeon could be obtained for private
houses. I sent for one, who was not an army surgeon, to
come at once. He sent me word that he had been up all
night, and had just retired. Again I sent to implore him
to come; in five minutes he was there. He told me at once
that his situation was critical in the extreme; the Minié ball
had not been extracted; he must die, if not soon relieved.
He wanted assistance—another surgeon. To send in pursuit
of Dr. Gibson for my brother, then stationed at Camp

Winder, and to telegraph for his father, occupied but a few
moments; but the surgeons could not come. Hour after
hour I sat by him. To cut off his bloody clothes, and replace
them by fresh ones, and to administer the immense
doses of morphine, was all that Mrs. P. and myself could
do. At dark, Surgeons G. and B., accompanied by my
brother, arrived. They did what they could, but considered
the case hopeless. His uncle, General C., arrived, to our
great relief. He joined us in nursing him during the night.
The cars were constantly coming in. Shouts of victory
and wails for the dead were strangely blended. I was glad
that I did not hear during that dreadful night that
the body of that bright, beautiful boy, that young
Christian hero, Randolph Fairfax, had been brought to
town. The father, mother, sisters!—can they bear the
blighting stroke? The hope, the pride, almost the idol of
the family, thus suddenly cut down! We, too, mourn him
dead, as we had loved and admired him living. We had
watched his boyhood and youth, the gradual development
of that brilliant mind and lofty character. His Christian
parents are bowed down, but not crushed; their future on
earth is clouded; but by faith they see his abundant entrance
into the kingdom of heaven, his glorious future, and
are comforted. Another young Christian soldier of the
same battery was shot down about the same moment—our
young friend David Barton, of Winchester. Three months
ago his parents buried their oldest son, who fell nobly defending
his native town, and now their second has passed
into heaven. The Church mourns him as one who was
about to devote his life to her sacred cause, but who
felt it his duty to defend her against the hosts who are
desecrating her hallowed precincts. How many, oh, how
many of the young soldiers of the Cross are obliged to
take up carnal weapons, to "save from spoil that sacred
place!" Poor fellows! their life's blood oozes out in a great
cause. But our church!

Yes, the time is at hand when she, our Southern Church,
shall

The churches of Fredericksburg suffered dreadfully during
the bombardment. Some were torn to pieces. Our dear
old St. George's suffered very little; but a shell burst
through her revered walls, and her steeple was broken by a
passing shot. She stands a monument of Vandalism,
though still a Christian chapel, from which the Gospel will,
I trust, be poured forth for many years, when we shall no
longer be surrounded by those who cry, "Raze it, raze it,
even to the foundations thereof."

But to return to my patient. After days and nights of
watching, I left him improving, and in the hands of his
parents. The physicians seem still doubtful of the result,
but I am full of hope. The ball, after much difficulty, was
extracted, since which time he has gradually improved; but
his sufferings have been indescribable. W. B. C. is also

slowly convalescing. One night while sitting up with B.,
together with a surgeon and General C., when we had not
been able to raise him up for two days, we were startled by
his springing from the bed in agony, and running to the fire;
the surgeon (his uncle) gently put his arm around him and
laid him on the couch. I hastened to the bed to make it
comfortable; but it was so large that I could not raise it
up; at last I called out, "General, help me to make up this
bed; come quickly!" In an instant the large feather bed
was grasped by him with strength and skill, turned over
and beaten thoroughly, the mattrass replaced; then to help
me to spread the sheets, smooth the pillows, etc., was the
work of a moment. The patient was replaced in bed and
soothed to sleep. Not till then did I remember that my
companion in making the bed was one who but a short time
before had led his brigade in the hottest of the fight, and
would, perhaps, do it again and again. I complimented him
on his versatility of talent, and a pleasant laugh ensued.
During the Christmas holidays, while most anxious about
our wounded, a letter from Kentucky reached us, announcing
the death of my lovely niece, Mrs. K. As soon as her
home on the Mississippi became surrounded by the enemy,
she was obliged to leave it. She then joined her husband,
who is on General Breckinridge's staff, and stationed near
Knoxville. As her health was very delicate, she determined,
as soon as General B. was ordered off, to attempt to get to
her mother in Kentucky; her husband placed her in the
care of an elderly physician and friend, who accompanied
her in a carriage across the mountains, as the public conveyances
between those hostile regions are, of course, discontinued.
Before she had travelled many days she was
compelled to stop at a small house on the roadside, and
there, with much kindness from the hostess, and from her
travelling companion, but none of the comforts to which she
had been accustomed, she suffered intensely for many days,
and then attempted to go on. She reached Georgetown,
Kentucky, which was her summer home; her mother was
telegraphed for, and reached her just three days before she
breathed her last. Dear H.! another victim of the war; as
much so as was her brother, who received his mortal wound
at Dranesville, or her brother-in-law, who was shot through
the heart at Pea Ridge. Her poor mother deemed it a blessed
privilege to be able to be with her in her dying hour; a comfort
which she did not experience after her long trip to see
her son. I fear she will sink under accumulated misfortunes;
cut off as she is from all that makes life bearable under
such circumstances. During the campaign of last summer
around Richmond, she describes her feelings as being anxious
and nervous beyond expression. She heard nothing but
threats against us, and braggadocio, until she believed that
we must be crushed; the many Southerners around her
could not express their feelings except in subdued whispers.
The Cincinnati and Covington papers expressed their confidence
of success. Each day she would go to Cincinnati to
hear the news, and come back depressed; but on the sixth
day after the battles commenced, as she took her usual
morning walk, she observed that the crowd around the
telegraph office was more quiet than usual. As she
approached, "curses, not loud, but deep," reached her ear.
Hope dawned upon her subdued spirit. "Is there any thing
the matter?" she asked, meekly, of the first gentlemanly-looking
man she saw. "The matter!" he exclaimed. "Oh!
madam, we are defeated. McClellan is retreating down
the river towards Harrison's Landing. I don't know where
that is, but we are shamefully beaten." She did not allow
herself to speak, but rapidly wended her way home, her
face bathed in tears of thankfulness, and singing the Gloria
in Excelsis.

Several days ago General Bragg reported a victory at
Murfreesboro', Tennessee. There was certainly a victory on
the first day, as 4,000 prisoners were secured, with thirty-one
pieces of cannon, and sent to Chattanooga. On the third
day the enemy were reinforced, and our army was obliged to
fall back. A friend remarked that the Bragg victories
never seem to do us much good. The truth is, the Western
Yankees fight much better than the Eastern, and outnumber
us fearfully. They claim the victory, but acknowledge the
loss of 30,000 men. It must have been a most severe conflict.
At Vicksburg they have made another attack, and
been repulsed; and yet another misfortune for them was
the sinking of their brag gun-boat Monitor. It went down
off Cape Hatteras. In Philadelphia the negroes and
Abolitionists celebrated the 1st of January with mad
demonstrations of delight, as the day on which Lincoln's
proclamation to abolish slavery would take effect. In
Norfolk the negroes were deluded by the Abolitionists into
great excitement. Speeches were made, encouraging them
to take up arms against their masters! Hale has offered a
resolution in the Northern Congress to raise two hundred
regiments of negroes! The valiant knight, I hope, will be
generalissimo of the corps. He is worthy of the position!

16th.—Just returned from Richmond. B's situation still
precarious, and I am obliged to stay with him a great deal.
I see a number of officers and other gentlemen in his room;
they seem to be in fine spirits about the country. Our
President's Message has been enthusiastically received. It

is a noble production, worthy of its great author. I think
the European public must contrast it with the Northern
"Message" most favourably to us.

Several friends have just arrived from Yankeedom in a
vessel fitted out by the Northern Government to receive
the exchanged prisoners. About six hundred women and
children were allowed to come in it from Washington.
They submitted to the most humiliating search, before they
left the wharf, from men and women. The former searched
their trunks, the latter their persons. Mrs. Hale, of California,
and the wife of Senator Harlan, of Iowa, presided
at the search. Dignified and lady-like! One young friend
of mine was bringing five pairs of shoes to her sisters; they
were taken as contraband. A friend brought me one pound
of tea; this she was allowed to do; but woe betide the
bundle of more than one pound! Some trunks were sadly
pillaged if they happened to contain more clothes than the
Northern Government thought proper for a rebel to possess.
No material was allowed to come which was not
made into garments. My friend brought me some pocket-handkerchiefs
and stockings, scattered in various parts of
the trunk, so as not to seem to have too many. She
brought her son, who is in our service, a suit of clothes
made into a cloak which she wore. Many a gray cloth
travelling-dress and petticoat which was on that boat is
now in camp, decking the person of a Confederate soldier;
having undergone a transformation into jackets and pants.
The searchers found it a troublesome business; not the least
assistance did they get from the searched. The ladies would
take their seats, and put out first one foot and then
the other to the Yankee woman, who would pull off the
shoes and stockings—not a pin would they remove, not a

string untie. The fare of the boat was miserable, served
in tin plates and cups; but, as it was served gratis, the
"Rebs" had no right to complain, and they reached Dixie
in safety, bringing many a contraband article, notwithstand
ing the search.

The hated vessel "Harriet Lane," which, like the Pawnee,
seemed to be ubiquitous, has been captured near Galveston
by General Magruder. Its commander, Captain Wainwright,
and others were killed. Captain W. was most intimately
connected with our relatives in the "Valley," having
married in Clarke County. He wrote to them in the beginning
of the war, to give them warning of their danger.
He spoke of the power of the North and the impotency of
the South. He thought that we would be subjugated in
a few months—little did he anticipate his own fate, or that
of his devoted fleet.

19th.—Colonel Bradley Johnson has been with us for
some days. He is nephew to Bishop J., and as bright and
agreeable in private as he is bold and dashing in the field.
Our little cottage has many pleasant visitors, and I think
we are as cheerful a family circle as the Confederacy can
boast. We are very much occupied by our Sundayschools—white
in the morning, and coloured in the afternoon.
In the week we are often busy, like the "cotter's" wife,
in making "auld claes look amaist as weel as new." "New claes" are not attainable at present high prices; we are
therefore likely to become very ingenious in fixing up "auld
anes." My friend who lately arrived from Washington
looked on very wonderingly when she saw us all ready for
church. "Why, how genteel you look!" at last broke from
her; "I had no idea of it. We all thought of you as suffering
in every respect." I told her that the Southern

women were as ingenious as the men were brave; and while
we cared little for dress during such anxious times, yet
when our husbands and sons returned from the field we
preferred that their homes should be made attractive, and
that they should not be pained by the indifferent appearance
of their wives, sisters, and mothers. She was still more
surprised by the neatly fitting, prettily made dresses of
Southern manufacture. "Are they of Virginia cloth?" she
asked. No, poor old Virginia has no time or opportunity
for improving her manufactures, while almost her whole
surface is scarred and furrowed by armies; but Georgia and
North Carolina are doing much towards clothing the first
ladies in the land. Sister M. has just improved my wardrobe
by sending me a black alpaca dress, bought from a
Potomac blockade-runner. We, ever and anon, are assisted
in that way: sometimes a pound of tea, sometimes a pair of
gloves, is snugged away in a friendly pocket, and after many
dangers reaches us, and meets a hearty welcome; and what
is more important still, medicine is brought in the same way,
having escaped the eagle eyes of Federal watchers. A lady
in Richmond said laughingly to a friend who was about to
make an effort to go to Baltimore, "Bring me a pound of
tea and a hoop-skirt;" and after a very short absence he
appeared before her, with the tea in one hand and the skirt
in the other. It is pleasant to see how cheerfully the girls
fall into habits of economy, and occupy themselves in a way
of which we never dreamed before.

January 23.—The gentlemen had their friend, General
Lovell, to spend last night with them. I was sorry not to
be able to see more of him, as I was too sick to remain in
the parlour, having been occupied night and day with my dear
B., who has been again very dangerously ill, with erysipelas

in his wound. We are troubled about our son J., who has
just been ordered to North Carolina; but we have no right
to complain, as his health is good, and his position has
hitherto been very pleasant.

31st.—We are in statu quo, and our armies quiet. The
Northern army seems to be in commotion. Burnside has
resigned, and "fighting Joe Hooker" has been put in his
place. Sumner and Franklin have also resigned their
"grand divisions." Pourquoi? Won't the men advance?
Perhaps the Stafford mud has been more than a match for
them. Burnside had issued but a few days ago an address
to his men, saying they were about to "strike the final
blow at the rebellion." All was in readiness, and the
"Grand Army" moved forward; just then the "rain descended
and the floods came," and, attempting to cross the
Rappahannock ten miles above Fredericksburg, ambulances,
wagons, big guns and all stuck in the mud; the order, "To
your tents, O Israel," had to be given, and the "rebellion"
still flourishes.

February 11.—For ten days past I have been at the
bedside of my patient in Richmond. The physicians for the
third time despaired of his life; by the goodness of God he
is again convalescent. Our wounded are suffering excessively
for tonics, and I believe that many valuable lives are
lost for the want of a few bottles of porter. One day a
surgeon standing by B's bedside said to me, "He must sink
in a day or two; he retains neither brandy nor milk, and
his life is passing away for want of nourishment." In a
state bordering on despair, I went out to houses and stores,
to beg or buy porter; not a bottle was in town. At last a
lady told me that a blockade-runner, it was said, had
brought ale, and it was at the medical purveyor's. I went

back to Mr. P's instantly, and told my brother (B's father)
of the rumour. To get a surgeon's requisition and go off
to the purveyor's was the work of a moment. In a short
time he returned, with a dozen bottles of India ale. It
was administered cautiously at first, and when I found that
he retained it, and feebly asked for more, tears of joy and
thankfulness ran down my cheeks. "Give him as much as
he will take during the night," was the order of the physician.
The order was obeyed, and life seemed to return to
his system; in twenty-four hours he had drank four bottles;
he began then to take milk, and I never witnessed any thing
like the reanimation of the whole man, physical and mental.
The hospitals are now supplied with this life-giving beverage,
and all have it who "absolutely require it," though great
care is taken of it, for the supply is limited. Oh, how cruel
it is that the Northern Government should have made
medicines, and the necessaries of life to the sick and
wounded, contraband articles!

12th.—We have lately had a little fight on the Blackwater.
The Yankees intended to take General Pryor by
surprise, but he was wide awake, and ready to receive and
repulse them handsomely. The late democratic majorities
at the North seem to have given the people courage; denunciations
are heard against the despotism of the Government.
Gold has gone up to 160, causing a ferment. Oh that
they would "bite and devour one another!" Since I have
been so occupied in nursing B. I have not had as much time
for the hospital, but go when I can. A few days ago, on
going there in the morning, I found Miss T. deeply interested
about a soldier who had been brought in the evening
before. The gentleman who accompanied him had found
him in the pouring rain, wandering about the streets, shivering

with cold, and utterly unable to tell his own story. The
attendants quickly replaced his wet clothes by dry ones, and
put him into a warm bed; rubbing and warm applications
were resorted to, and a surgeon administered restoratives.
Physical reaction took place, but no clearing of the mind.
When soothingly asked about his name, his home, and his
regiment, he would look up and speak incoherently, but no
light was thrown on the questions. He was watched and
nursed during the night. His pulse gradually weakened,
and by the break of day he was no more. That morning
I found the nameless, homeless boy on the couch which I
had so often seen similarly occupied. The wind had raised
one corner of the sheet, and as I approached to replace it a
face was revealed which riveted me to the spot. It was
young, almost boyish, and though disease and death had
made sad ravages, they could not conceal delicately-carved
features, a high, fair forehead, and light hair, which had
been well cared for. He looked like one of gentle blood.
All seemed so mysterious, my heart yearned over him, and
my tears fell fast. Father, mother, sisters, brothers—where
are they? The morning papers represented the case, and
called for information. He may have escaped in delirium
from one of the hospitals! That evening, kind, gentle
hands placed him in his soldier's coffin, and he had Christian
burial at "Holloywood," with the lonely word "Stranger"
carved upon the headboard. We trust that the sad story
in the papers may meet some eye of which he had once
been the light, for he was surely "Somebody's Darling."
Sweet lines have been written, of which this sad case
reminds me:—

13th.—Still in Richmond, nursing B. He was wounded
this day two months ago; but such fluctuations I have
never witnessed in any case. We have more hope now,
because his appetite has returned. I sent over to market
this morning for partridges and eggs for him, and gave 75
cents apiece for the one, and $1.50 per dozen for the other.
I am afraid that our currency is rapidly depreciating, and
the time is approaching when, as in the old Revolution, a
man had to give $300 for a breakfast. Mrs. P. came in to
scold me for my breach of good manners in buying any
thing in her house. I confessed myself ashamed of it, but
that I would be more ashamed to disturb her whenever B's
capricious appetite required indulgence. I have never seen
more overflowing hospitality than that of this household.
Many sick men are constantly refreshed from the bounties
of the table; and supplies from the Iarder seem to be at the
command of every soldier. One of the elegant parlours is
still in the occupancy of the wounded soldier brought here
with B.; his wound was considered slight, but he suffers
excessively from nervous debility, and is still unfit for service.
I did feel uncomfortable that we should give Mrs. P.
so much trouble, until she told me that, having no sons old
enough for service, and her husband being unable to serve
the country personally, except as a member of the "Ambulance
Committee," they had determined that their house
should be at the service of the soldiers. Last summer,
during the campaigns around Richmond, they took in seven
wounded men, some of whom had to be nursed for months.

20th.—A letter this morning from Sister M., who has
returned to her home on the Potomac. She gives me an
account of many "excitements" to which they are exposed
from the landing of Yankees, and the pleasure they take in
receiving and entertaining Marylanders coming over to join
us, and others who go to their house to "bide their
time" for running the blockade to Maryland. "Among
others," she says, "we have lately been honoured by two
sprigs of English nobility, the Marquis of Hastings and
Colonel Leslie of the British army. The Marquis is the
future Duke of Devonshire. They only spent the evening,
as they hoped to cross the river last night. They are
gentlemanly men, having no airs about them; but `my lord'
is excessively awkward. They don't compare at all in ease
or elegance of manner or appearance with our educated men
of the South. They wore travelling suits of very coarse
cloth—a kind of pea-jacket, such as sailors wear. As it
was raining, the boots of the Colonel were worn over his
pantaloons. They were extremely tall, and might have
passed very well at first sight for Western wagoners! We
have also had the Rev. Dr. Joseph Wilmer with us for some
days. He is going to Europe, and came down with a party,
the Englishmen included, to cross the river. The Doctor is
too High Church for my views, but exceedingly agreeable,
and an elegant gentleman. They crossed safely last night,
and are now en route for New York, where they hope to
take the steamer on Wednesday next." She does not finish
her letter until the 17th, and gives an account of a
pillaging raid through her neighbourhood. She writes on
the 14th: "There had been rumours of Yankees for some
days, and this morning they came in good earnest. They
took our carriage herses, and two others, in spite of our

remonstrances; demanded the key of the meat-house, and
took as many of our sugar-cured hams as they wanted;
to-night they broke open our barn, and fed their horses, and
are even now prowling around the servants' houses in search
of eggs, poultry, etc. They have taken many prisoners,
and all the horses they could find in the neighbourhood.
We have a rumour that an infantry force is coming up from
Heathsville, where they landed yesterday. We now see
many camp-fires, and what we suppose to be a picket-fire,
between this and the Rectory. My daughters, children and
myself are here alone; not a man in the house. Our trust
is in God. We pray not only that we may be delivered
from our enemies, but from the fear of them. It requires
much firmness to face the creatures, and to talk with them.
The Eighth New York is the regiment with which we are
cursed. The officers are polite enough, but are determined
to steal every thing they fancy." On the 15th she says:
"This morning our enemies took their departure, promising
to return in a few days. They visited our stable again, and
took our little mare `Virginia.' The servants behaved
remarkably well, though they were told again and again
that they were free." Again, on the 17th, she writes: "I
saw many of the neighbours yesterday, and compared losses.
We are all pretty severely pillaged. The infantry regiment
from Heathsville took their departure on Sunday morning,
in the `Alice Price,' stopped at Bushfield, and about twelve
took breakfast there. Mr. B. says the vessel was loaded
with plunder, and many negroes. They took off all the
negroes from the Mantua estate; broke up the beautiful
furniture at Summerfield, and committed depredations everywhere.
A company of them came up as far as Cary's on
Saturday evening, and met the cavalry. They stole horses
enough on their way to be pretty well mounted. They will
blazon forth this invasion of a country of women, children,
and old men, as a brilliant feat! Now that they are gone,
we breathe more freely, but for how long a time?" We
feel very anxious about our friends between the Rappahannock
and Potomac, both rivers filled with belligerent vessels;
but they have not yet suffered at all, when compared with
the lower Valley, the Piedmont country, poor old Fairfax,
the country around Richmond, the Peninsula; and, indeed,
wherever the Yankee army has been, it has left desolation
behind it, and there is utter terror and dismay during its
presence.

Ashland, February 22d.—A very deep snow this morning.
The cars are moving slowly on the road, with two engines
attached to each train. Our gentlemen could not go to
Richmond to-day. Washington's birthday is forgotten, or
only remembered with a sigh by his own Virginia. Had he
been gifted with prophetic vision, in addition to his great
powers, we would still remain a British colony; or, at least,
he would never have fought and suffered for seven long
years to have placed his native South in a situation far more
humiliating than the colonies ever were towards the mother-country;
or to have embroiled her in a war compared to
which the old Revolution was but child's play.

26th.—In the city again yesterday. B. improving. The
morning papers report firing upon Vicksburg. Several
steamers have arrived lately, laden for the Confederacy.
Blockade-running seems to be attended with less danger
than it was, though we have lately lost a most valuable
cargo by the capture of the "Princess Royal." The
"Alabama" continues to perform the most miraculous feats,
and the "Florida" seems disposed to rival her in brilliant exploits.

They "walk the water," capturing every thing in
their way, and know no fear, though many vessels are in
pursuit. I am grieved to hear that my dear little J. P. has
been ordered to Charleston. While he was on James
River, I felt that I could be with him if he were wounded;
but he is in God's hands:

The papers full of the probable, or rather hoped for, intervention
of France. The proposition of the Emperor,
contained in a letter from the Minister to Seward, and his
artful, wily, Seward-like reply, are in a late paper. We
pause to see what will be the next step of the Emperor.
Oh that he would recognize us, and let fanatical England
pursue her own cold, selfish course!

28th.—To-day we are all at home. It is amusing to see,
as each lady walks into the parlour, where we gather
around the centre-table at night, that her work-basket is
filled with clothes to be repaired. We are a cheerful set,
notwithstanding. Our winding "reel," too, is generally
busy. L. has a very nice one, which is always in the hands
of one or the other, preparing cotton for knitting. We are
equal to German women in that line. Howitt says that
throughout Germany, wherever you see a woman, you see
the "everlasting knitting;" so it is with Confederate
women. I only wish it was "everlasting," for our poor
soldiers in their long marches strew the way with their
wornout socks.

March 5th.—Spent last night in Richmond with my
friend Mrs. R. This morning we attended Dr. Minnegerode's
prayer-meeting at seven o'clock. It is a blessed

privilege enjoyed by people in town, that of attending religious
services so often, particularly those social prayer-meetings,
now that we feel our dependence on an Almighty
arm, and our need of prayer more than we ever did in our
lives. The President has issued another proclamation, setting
aside the 27th of this month for fasting and prayer.

Again I have applied for an office, which seems necessary
to the support of the family. If I fail, I shall try to think
that it is not right for me to have it. Mr.—'s salary is
not much more than is necessary to pay our share of the
expenses of the mess. Several of us are engaged in making
soap, and selling it, to buy things which seem essential to
our wardrobes. A lady who has been perfectly independent
in her circumstances, finding it necessary to do something
of the kind for her support, has been very successful
in making pickles and catsups for the restaurants. Another,
like Mrs. Primrose, rejoices in her success in making gooseberry
wine, which sparkles like champagne, and is the best
domestic wine I ever drank; this is designed for the highest
bidder. The exercise of this kind of industry works two
ways: it supplies our wants, and gives comfort to the
public. Almost every girl plaits her own hat, and that of
her father, brother, and lover, if she has the bad taste to
have a lover out of the army, which no girl of spirit would
do unless he is incapacitated by sickness or wounds. But
these hats are beautifully plaited of rye straw, and the
ladies' hats are shaped so becomingly, that though a Parisian
milliner might pronounce them old-fashioned, and laugh
them to scorn, yet our Confederate girls look fresh and
lovely in them, with their gentle countenances and bright,
enthusiastic eyes; and what do we care for Parisian style,
particularly as it would have to come to us through Yankee-land?

The blockade has taught our people their own resources;
but I often think that when the great veil is removed,
and reveals us to the world, we will, in some respects,
be a precious set of antiques. The ladies occasionally contrive
to get a fashion-plate "direct from France," by way
of Nassau; yet when one of them, with a laudable zeal for
enhancing her own charms by embellishments from abroad,
sends gold to Nassau, which should be kept in our own
country, and receives in return a trunk of foreign fabrics,
she will appear on the street immediately afterwards in a
costume which seems to us so new and fantastic, that we
are forced to the opinion that we would appear to the world
ludicrously passé. A gentleman, lately from Columbia, tells
me that the South Carolina girls pride themselves on their
palmetto hats; and the belle of large fortune, who used to
think no bonnet presentable but one made by the first New
York or Parisian milliner, now glories in her palmetto.
The balmoral, too, the product of our own spinning-wheel
and loom, would show well with the prettiest imported ones.
I have seen several, which the young wearers told me were
"dyed in the wool, spun, and woven by the poor of our
own neighbourhood. The dye-stuffs were from our own
woods." These are little things, but, proving the independence
of our people, I rejoice in them. The croackers are now
indulging themselves with fears of famine; they elongate
their gloomy visages, and tell us, in sad accents, that butter
was $3.50 per pound in market this morning, and other
things in proportion. I am sorry to say that it is true,
and that it is evident we must have scarcity, particularly of
such things as butter, for the cattle must go to feed the
army. The soldiers must be fed; our gardens will give us
vegetables; God will give us the fruits of the earth abundantly,
as in days past, and if we are reduced, which I do
not anticipate, to bread and water, we will bear it cheerfully,
thank God, and take courage:

The poor, being well supplied with Government work,
are better off than usual.

All quiet in the army. This may portend a storm. Several
pieces of cannon passed this morning on the Fredericksburg
train. Raids still continue in the Northern Neck,
keeping us very uneasy about our friends there.

March 15th.—Weather dark and cloudy. We had a
good congregation in our little church. Mr.—read the
service. The Bishop preached on "Repentance." Richmond
was greatly shocked on Friday, by the blowing up of
the Laboratory, in which women, girls, and boys were employed
making cartridges; ten women and girls were killed
on the spot, and many more will probably die from their
wounds. May God have mercy upon them! Our dear
friend Mrs. S. has just heard of the burning of her house,
at beautiful Chantilly. The Yankee officers had occupied it
as head-quarters, and on leaving it, set fire to every house
on the land, except the overseer's house and one of the
servants' quarters. Such ruthless Vandalism do they commit
wherever they go! I expressed my surprise to Mrs. S.
that she was enabled to bear it so well. She calmly replied,
"God has spared my sons through so many battles,
that I should be ungrateful indeed to complain of any thing
else." This lovely spot has been her home from her marriage,
and the native place of her many children, and when

I remember it as I saw it two years ago, I feel that it is
too hard for her to be thus deprived of it. An officer
(Federal) quartered there last winter, describing it in a letter
to the New York Herald, says the furniture had been
"removed," except a large old-fashioned sideboard; he had
been indulging his curiosity by reading the many private
letters which he found scattered about the house; some of
which, he says, were written by General Washington, "with
whom the family seems to have been connected." In this
last surmise he was right, and he must have read letters
from which he derived the idea, or he may have gotten it
from the servants, who are always proud of the aristocracy
of their owners; but not a letter written by General Washington
did he see, for Mrs. S. was always careful of them,
and brought them away with her; they are now in this
house. The officer took occasion to sneer at the pride and
aristocracy of Virginia, and winds up by asserting that
"this establishment belongs to the mother of General J. E.
B. Stuart," to whom she is not at all related.

March 18th.—This evening, when leaving Richmond,
we were most unexpectedly joined at the cars by our friend
N. P. Dear child, we had not seen her since her father's family
left their home, some weeks before we left ours. Well do
I remember the feeling of misery which I experienced at seeing
them go off. We have all suffered since that time, but
none of us can compare with them in that respect. They
are living in desolated Fauquier. There they have buried
their lovely little Kate, and N's principal object in visiting
this country now is to see the grave of her eldest brother,
a victim of the war, and to see the lady at whose house he
died, and who nursed him as though he had been her son
We enjoy her society exceedingly, and linger long over our

reminiscences of the past, and of home scenes. Sadly
enough do we talk, but there is a fascination about it which
is irresistible. It seems marvellous that, in the chances
and changes of war, so many of our "Seminary Hill" circle
should be collected within the walls of this little cottage.
Mrs. P. has once been, by permission of the
military authorities, to visit her old home; she found it used
as a bakery for the troops stationed around it. After passing
through rooms which she scarcely recognized, and seeing
furniture, once her own, broken and defaced, she found
her way to her chamber. There was her wardrobe in its
old place; she had left it packed with house-linen and other
valuables, and advanced towards it, key in hand, for the
purpose of removing some of its contents, when she was
roughly told by a woman sitting in the room not to open
that wardrobe, "there was nothing in it that belonged to
her." Oh, how my blood would have boiled, and how I
should have opened it, unless put aside by force of arms,
just to have peeped in to see if my own things were still
there, and to take them if they were! But Mrs. P., more
prudently, used a gentle remonstrance, and finding that
nothing could be effected, and that rudeness would ensue,
quietly left the room. We bide our time.

19th.—My birthday. While in Richmond, this morning,
brother J. and myself called on some friends, among others
our relative Mrs. H., who has lately been celebrating the
marriage of her only son, and took us into the next room
for a lunch of wine and fruit-cake. We had never, during
two years, thought of fruit-cake, and found it delightful.
The fruit consisted of dried currants and cherries from her
garden, at her elegant James River home, Brandon, now
necessarily deserted. She fortunately was enabled to bring

her furniture to Richmond, and is the only refugee that I
know who is surrounded by home comforts.

March 20th.—Severe snow-storm. This will retard the
attack upon Fredericksburg, if the enemy designed it. We
spent the morning in the parlour. N. P. read aloud the
old-fashioned but amusing novel, "Pride and Prejudice," in
very spirited style. The event of the day was the arrival
from Alexandria of a bundle, filled with useful articles for
a lady, who, not wanting them all herself, allowed us to
help ourselves at the price which they cost her in Alexandria.
It was amusing to see with what avidity the girls
seized on a calico dress at only seventy-five cents per yard
(Confederate money); every thing was in such demand, that
I only got a tooth-brush, at one dollar; they are two dollars
and fifty cents in Richmond.

27th.—To-day was set apart by the President as a day
of fasting and prayer. Some of us went to Richmond, and
joined in the services at St. Paul's. The churches were all
crowded with worshippers, who, I trust, felt their depend
ence on God in this great struggle. The President was
in church, and, I believe, most of the dignitaries. One of
the ladies of the hospital, seeing this morning two rough-looking
convalescent soldiers sitting by the stove, exhorted
them to observe the day by prayer and fasting. They
seemed to have no objection to the praying, but could not
see the "good of fasting," and doubted very much whether
"Marse Jeff fasted all day himself—do you reckon he
does?" The lady laughingly told him that she would inquire
and let them know, but she reckoned that such was
his habit. In the course of the morning she met with Mrs.
Davis, and told her the anecdote. "Tell them from me,"
said Mrs. D., "that Mr. Davis never eats on fast-day, and

that as soon as he returns from church he shuts himself up
in his study, and is never interrupted during the day, except
on public business." Of course this was soon given as
an example, not only to the two convalescents, but to the
whole hospital.

March 28th.—A letter from —. She tells me that
W. B. N. and E. C. both passed through the fierce fight
at Kelly's Ford uninjured. How can we be grateful
enough for all our mercies? Letters also from B., by underground
railroad. That sweet child and her whole
family surrounded and roughly treated by the Yankees;
and so it will be as long as Millroy is allowed to be the
scourge of the Valley.

Sunday Night.—Very sweet services in our little church
to-day. The subject of the sermon was, "Woe to them
who are at ease in Zion." Mr. — found a note on the
pulpit from a Georgia soldier, asking the prayers of the
congregation for himself and his family at home. The extemporaneous
prayer after the sermon, offered for him, was
most earnestly and tearfully joined in by all.

April 1st.—"All quiet on the Rappahannock to-night,"
and we are almost as still as in days gone by. The girls
got up a little merriment this morning by their "April
fools." The remainder of the day passed in our usual
way.

April 2d.—We were shocked when the gentlemen returned,
to hear of the riot which occurred in Richmond today.
A mob, principally of women, appeared in the streets,
attacking the stores. Their object seemed to be to get
any thing they could; dry-goods, shoes, brooms, meat, glassware,
jewelry, were caught up by them. The military was
called out—the Governor dispersed them from one part of

the town, telling them that unless they disappeared in five
minutes, the soldiers should fire among them. This he said,
holding his watch in his hand. Mr. Munford, the President
of the Young Men's Christian Association, quieted
them on another street by inviting them to come to the
rooms of the Association, and their wants should be supplied;
many followed him—I suppose those who were really
in want. Others there were, of the very worst class of
women, and a great many who were not in want at all,
which they proved by only supplying themselves with jewelry
and other finery. The President was out speaking to
them, and trying to secure order. The Mayor made them
a speech, and seemed to influence them, but I dare say
that the bayonets of the soldiers produced the most decided
effect. It is the first time that such a thing has ever darkened
the annals of Richmond. God grant it may be the
last. I fear that the poor suffer very much; meal was selling
to-day at $16 per bushel. It has been bought up by
speculators. Oh that these hard-hearted creatures could
be made to suffer! Strange that men with human hearts
can, in these dreadful times, thus grind the poor.

Good-Friday.—The Bishop preached for us to-day most
delightfully from the text: "Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
In the afternoon Mrs. S. had the inexpressible pleasure
of welcoming her son, Mr. A. S., from the Western
Army. He thinks that Vicksburg and Port Hudson are
both impregnable. God grant that it may be so!

April 4th.—Spent to-day in Richmond, attending on the
wounded. The mob of women came out yesterday, but in
smaller numbers, and was easily put down by military
authority. To-day a repetition was expected, and the cannon
was in place to rake the streets, but they thought discretion

the better part of valour, and staid at home. The
riot, it is ascertained, was not caused by want; it was no
doubt set on foot by Union influences. I saw the Rev. Mr.
Peterkin, who is perhaps more thoroughly acquainted with
the state of the poor than any man in the city. He says
that they are admirably attended to. Large sums of money
are put in the hands of the clergy for their benefit; this
money is disbursed by ladies, whose duty and pleasure it is
to relieve the suffering. One gentleman gave as much as
$5,000 last winter. Besides this, the industrious poor are
supplied with work by the Government, and regularly paid
for it.

The Bishop set off this morning for his spring visitations,
which are becoming, alas! very circumscribed—so much of
the diocese is in the hands of the enemy.

Mr. C., of Georgetown, Captain Norton, of New Orleans,
and Mr. A. S. are with us. The first of these gentlemen
ran the blockade from his home some months ago,
finding he was to be arrested for opinion's sake, and now
holds a Confederate office in Richmond. He very rarely
hears from his wife and children. Flag-of-truce letters seldom
reach their destination, and when they do, letters of
one page, written to be inspected by strangers, are very unsatisfactory.
An occasional "underground" communication
comes to him, like water in a thirsty land. I often look at
his calm countenance with sympathy, knowing that there
must be deep sorrow and anxiety underneath.

9th.—On Monday saw B. removed from the bed of suffering,
on which he had been lying four months, put on a
stretcher, and carried to the canal-boat. His countenance
was full of joyful anticipations of home. His arm, which
should have been amputated on the field, hangs lifeless by

his side; and yet he expects to return to his post, that of
Major of artillery, as soon as he is strong enough. Poor
fellow, it is well for him to amuse himself with the idea,
but he will never again be fit for any duty but that at a
post. He has been the recipient of kindnesses from Mr.
and Mrs. P. and others, which could only be experienced
in this dear, warm-hearted Southern country of ours, and
which he can never forget to his dying day. That night
I spent with my kind friend Mrs. R., and next morning
made such purchases as were absolutely necessary for our
comfort. I gave for bleached cotton, which used to be sold
for 12½ cents, $3.50 per yard; towelling $1.25 per yard;
cotton 50 cents a spool, etc. Nothing reconciled me to
this extravagance but that I had sold my soap for $1 per
pound! !

The enemy has retired from Vicksburg, their canal having
proved a failure. Where they will reappear nobody
knows. Another ineffectual attempt upon Charleston on
the 7th and 8th.

Sunday Night, April 12th.—Mr. — administered the
Sacrament here to-day, the first time it was ever administered
by Episcopalians in Ashland. There were fifty communicants,
the large majority of them refugees. Our society
here has been greatly improved by the refugees from Fredericksburg.
The hotel is full. The G's have rented the
last vacant cottage, and are boarding others. The R's,
with their three pretty young daughters and son, occupy
the ball-room of the hotel. The dressing-room makes a
pleasant chamber, and the long dancing-room, partitioned
off into rooms by the suspension of their handsome crimson
damask curtains, is very pretty, and, for spring and summer
use, makes very comfortable apartments. They saved some

of their furniture, and are nicely fixed for refugees, who
must do the best they can, and be thankful it is no worse.
The C's seem very happy in the old billiard-rooms; the large
room answers the double purpose of dining-room and parlour,
and the smaller rooms, which I am afraid were once
used for card-playing when this place was a summer resort,
are now put to a better use, as sleeping apartments and
kitchen for three most agreeable families. One family in
the opposite cottage has interested us very much. Mr.
Wade (the husband) was an Englishman, who had been in
office in Washington; he resigned and came South on the
breaking out of the war, placed his family in Richmond,
and joined our army; he was not young or healthy, and soon
was broken down by the service; he was then made clerk
in the Quartermaster's Department, and removed his family
to Ashland for cheapness. He was very highly educated
and gentlemanly, and his coming here seems to me very
mysterious. Soon after his removal to this place he grew
worse and died. His wife and five children were left penniless
and friendless. They seemed to have no acquaintances,
however slight. The villagers, from their limited resources,
raised a sum for her present support, and after much difficulty
procured her a situation in the Note-signing Department.
She goes into the city every morning on the cars, as
do several other ladies to the duties of their offices, leaving
her children to the care of a faithful coloured nurse,
whom she never saw until two months ago. We have
taught her the art of making soap of concentrated ley, and
often when she gets on the train, a basket may be seen in
the freight-train filled with soap, which she sells to the
grocers or commissaries. She is an interesting-looking
woman, Northern born and educated. Her father, she says,
is a Colonel in the Yankee army. She wrote to him again
and again, and one of our gentlemen did the same, representing
her case. After long silence he has written to her
a short letter, which she showed me, inviting her, in rather
an indifferent manner, to come to Georgetown, where her
mother is now staying, but remits her no money to pay her
passage or to support her here. Our gentlemen have interested
Mr. Lawley, an Englishman of some note in Richmond,
in her case; and her husband having been a British subject,
he may be enabled to get her a passport and a free
passage on the flag-of-truce boat.

15th.—Spent yesterday in the hospital. I am particularly
interested in two very ill men. One is a youth of
seventeen years, who has been seventeen months in service.
Poor boy! he is now sinking with consumption, and has
lately been brought to our hospital from another. His case
elicits great sympathy and kindness. His name is Stansberry,
and he is from Baltimore. We have reason to hope
that he is prepared to meet his God.

Letters (underground) from the Valley to-day. Millroy
is doing his worst among the dear people there. It is
grievous to think how much of Virginia is down-trodden
and lying in ruins. The old State has bared her breast to
the destroyer, and borne the brunt of battle for the good
of the Confederacy, and this too after long and vain efforts
for peace. Her citizens, young and old, are doing what they
can. Her sons have bled and died, and are still offering
themselves willing sacrifices on the country's altar. Her
daughters are striving in their vocation in this hallowed
cause, all looking to God for his blessing upon our
efforts.

17th.—On going to the hospital yesterday, I found

that young Stansberry had died, surrounded by sympathizing
friends, and having a bright hope of a blessed immortality.
We are anxious about our armies everywhere,
from the Mississippi to the seaboard. Rumours are rife
about General Longstreet having thrown his forces between
Norfolk and the Yankee army at Suffolk. In the mean
time we must possess our souls in patience.

18th.—A letter from our son J. to-day; full of pleasant
feeling at finding himself again in the Army of Northern
Virginia. He is just established near General Jackson's
head-quarters, as Surgeon of the First Virginia Battalion;
had just breakfasted with Stonewall, and is filled with
enthusiastic admiration for the great Christian soldier and
patriot.

The enemy seems to have left Charleston. The Northern
papers, after much circumlocution, prevarication, and boasting
of a successful reconnoissance, acknowledge that they
were greatly injured by their last attack on it. "All quiet
on the Rappahannock," continues to be reported. God
grant that it may continue so!

Yesterday spent in the hospital; some of the men are
very ill. I go back to-morrow.

Wednesday Night, April 29.—On Saturday Mr. —
and myself went up to Cedar Hill, and he attempted to go
to Fredericksburg; when he reached Hamilton's Crossings
he found it impossible to go on—conveyances were so scarce
and the roads so terrible. He had the pleasure to dine, by
invitation, at General Jackson's head-quarters. That night
he spent with his old friend, Mr. M. Garnett. Once having
every luxury which could be desired, he now lives in his
desolated house, surrounded by down-trodden fields, without
fences, trees, or vegetation of any sort. His servants, except

a few faithful ones, have deserted him; his horses and
stock of all kinds have been swept away; his sons in the
army; and he is cheerful and buoyed with hope, not for
himself, but for the cause good old patriot as he is, forgetting
his own privations in zeal for his country. On Sunday
Mr. — heard an admirable sermon at head-quarters (General
Jackson's) from the Rev. Mr. Lacy, a Presbyterian
chaplain, and returned home on Monday, having found it
impossible to fulfil the object of his trip, that of preaching
to the soldiers in Fredericksburg.

Saturday Night, May 9.—So much has happened since
I last wrote in my diary, that I can scarcely collect my
thoughts to give a plain detail of facts as they occurred.
Ten days ago, Mr. — and myself went in to spend two
days with our children who are living in Richmond. It
soon became apparent that we could not return, as the
Government had taken the cars for the purpose of transporting
soldiers to Fredericksburg. Hooker was making
immense demonstrations, and was crossing 159,000 men.
They fought on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, at different
points, principally at Chancellorsville, and the enemy was
repulsed at all points. Hooker and his host retired to the
Rappahannock, and recrossed, I think, on Wednesday. It
is said that General Lee would have followed him, but for
the dreadful storm of Monday night and Tuesday. General
Lee in his official report speaks of it as a "signal victory."
Our army was smaller than usual, as Longstreet was still
near Suffolk, and could not get up in time. It is pretty
certain that Hooker—fighting Joe!!—had two to Lee's one,
and was defeated. But General Jackson was wounded
severely. The great Stonewall is lost to us for a time; his
left arm has been amputated, and there is a severe wound

in his right hand. Oh, I pray that God may raise him up
to be a continued blessing to the country. His wife has
gone to him. The best surgical skill of the army, the
sympathy and anxiety of the whole South, and the prayers
of the country, are his. General Paxton, of the Stonewall
Brigade, was killed, and many, ah, how many, valuable lives
were lost! it is impossible for us yet to know, as the
telegraphic wires are cut, and mail communication very
uncertain. From my own family boys we have not heard,
and we are willing to believe that "no news is good news."
Two more of the dear ones over whose youth we so anxiously
watched have fallen—Hill Carter, of Shirley, and Benjamin
White, of Charlestown, Jefferson County. Thank
God, they were both Christians! My heart aches for their
parents. The last was an only son, and justly the pride and
joy of his household. His parents are in the enemy's lines.
O Lord, uphold that tender mother when the withering
stroke is known to her! Major Channing Price and
Colonel Thomas Garnett are gone! God help our country!
We can't afford to lose such men.

While our army was busily engaged last Sunday, the
Yankees took occasion to send out a raiding party of their
superfluous numbers. A party of several hundred came here
about three o'clock in the afternoon. They knew that the
cars containing the wounded from the battle-field would be
here. The cars arrived, and were immediately surrounded
and the soldiers paroled. The ladies all the while were in
the cars administering comfort to the wounded. They
remained about three hours, took off every horse they could
find, and every servant that they could induce to go, which
was very few, and then rode off without burning the houses
or offering other injury to the villagers. They belonged to

Stoneman's command. They went over this county, Goochland,
Louisa, and a part of Fluvanna, without molestation.
They became alarmed, however, and cut their career short.
They went to Columbia for the purpose of destroying the
canal, but in their haste did it very little injury. The
injury to the railroads was slight, and easily repaired. To
individuals they did some mischief; at W. they fed four
hundred horses at my brother's barn, took his buggy horse,
and rode off. His neighbours, and others in their route,
fared very much in the same way. In Richmond the excitement
was terrible. The alarm-bell pealed out its startling
notes; citizens were armed, and sent out to man the batteries;
extemporaneous cavalry companies were formed and
sent out; women were seen crying and wringing their hands
on the streets; wild rumours were afloat; but it all ended
in the raiders not attempting to get to the Richmond batteries,
and the city in a few hours became perfectly quiet.

Sunday, May 10.—Sad, sad tidings were brought to our
cottage this morning! Washington, the youngest and
darling son of our dear friend, Mrs. Stuart, has fallen.
The mother and sisters are overwhelmed, while our whole
household is shrouded in sorrow. He was young, brave,
and a Christian. He fell while nobly fighting with his company,
the famous Rockbridge Battery, on Marye's Hill.
We have heard no other particulars. The brave boy had
scarcely recovered from a most severe wound received last
summer near Winchester. To God we commend his afflicted,
though quietly submissive, mother. He alone can soothe
the sorrow which He has seen fit to permit.

Tuesday Evening, May 12th.—How can I record the
sorrow which has befallen our country! General T. J. Jackson
is no more. The good, the great, the glorious Stonewall

Jackson is numbered with the dead! Humanly speaking,
we cannot do without him; but the same God who
raised him up, took him from us, and He who has so miraculously
prospered our cause, can lead us on without him.
Perhaps we have trusted too much to an arm of flesh; for
he was the nation's idol. His soldiers almost worshipped
him, and it may be that God has therefore removed him.
We bow in meek submission to the great Ruler of events.
May his blessed example be followed by officers and men,
even to the gates of heaven! He died on Sunday the 10th,
at a quarter past three, P. M. His body was carried
by yesterday, in a car, to Richmond. Almost every lady
in Ashland visited the car, with a wreath or a cross of the
most beautiful flowers, as a tribute to the illustrious dead.
An immense concourse had assembled in Richmond, as the
solitary car containing the body of the great soldier, accompanied
by a suitable escort, slowly and solemnly approached
the depot. The body lies in state to-day at the Capitol,
wrapped in the Confederate flag, and literally covered with
lilies of the valley and other beautiful Spring flowers. Tomorrow
the sad cortège will wend its way to Lexington,
where he will be buried, according to his dying request, in
the "Valley of Virginia." As a warrior, we may appropriately
quote from Byron:
As a Christian, in the words of St. Paul, I thank God to
be able to say, "He has fought the good fight, he has finished
his course, he has kept the faith. Henceforth there
is laid up for him a crown of righteousness, which the Lord,
the righteous Judge, shall give him at the last day."

Wednesday, 13th.—I have just heard that my dear
nephew, Will'by N., was wounded at Chancellorsville, and
that his left leg has been amputated. He is at Mr. Marye's,
near Hamilton's Crossings, receiving the warm-hearted
hospitality of that house, now so widely known. His
mother has reached him, and he is doing well. I pray
that God may have mercy upon him, and raise him up
speedily, for the Saviour's sake.

May 16th.—We were aroused this morning before daylight,
by reports that the Yankees were making a raid, and
were very near this place. We all dressed hastily, and
the gentlemen went out to devise means to stop the trains
which were to pass through. Though within five miles of
us, they became aware that notice had been given of their
purpose, and they immediately turned their steps to some
more private place, where they might rob and plunder without
molestation. The miserable poltroons, when on one of
their raids, will become frightened by the sudden rising of a
covey of partridges, and be diverted from their course;
then they will ride bravely to a house, where they know
they will only find women and children; order meals to be
prepared; search the house; take the valuables; feed their
horses at the barns; take off the horses from the stables;
shoot the pigs, sheep, and other stock, and leave them dead
in the fields; rob the poultry-yards; then, after regaling
themselves on the meals which have been prepared by force,
with the threats of bayonets and pistols, they ride off, having
pocketed the silver spoons and forks, which may have
unwittingly been left in their way.

I have been in Richmond for two days past, nursing the

wounded of our little hospital. Some of them are very
severely injured, yet they are the most cheerful invalids I
ever saw. It is remarked in all the hospitals that the
cheerfulness of the wounded in proportion to their suffering
is much greater than that of the sick. Under my care, yesterday,
was one poor fellow, with a ball embedded in his
neck; another with an amputated leg; one with a hole in
his breast, through which a bullet had passed; another with
a shattered arm; and others with slighter wounds; yet
all showed indomitable spirit; evinced a readiness to be
amused or interested in every thing around them; asked
that the morning papers might be read to them, and gloried
in their late victory; and expressed an anxiety to get well,
that they may have another "chance at them fellows." The Yankees are said to have landed at West Point, and are
thence sending out raiding parties over the country. Colonel
Davis, who led the party here on the third, has been
severely wounded by a scouting party, sent out by General
Wise towards Tunstall's Station. It is said he has lost his
leg. So may it be!

Monday, May 18th.—This morning we had the gratification
of a short visit from General Lee. He called and
breakfasted with us, while the other passengers in the cars
breakfasted at the hotel. We were very glad to see that
great and good man look so well and so cheerful. His
beard is very long, and painfully gray, which makes him
appear much older than he really is. One of the ladies at
table, with whom he is closely connected, rallied him on
allowing his beard to grow, saying, "Cousin R., it makes
you look too venerable for your years." He was amused, and
pleaded as his excuse the inconvenience of shaving in camp.
"Well," she replied, "if I were in Cousin Mary's place

(Mrs. L's) I would allow it to remain now, but I would take it
off as soon as the war is over." He answered, while a
shade passed over his bright countenance, "When the war
is over, my dear L., she may take my beard off, and my
head with it, if she chooses." This he said as the whistle
summoned him to his seat in the cars, not meaning to depress
us, or imagining for an instant that we would think of
it again; but it proved to us that he knew that the end was
not yet, and disappointed us, for after every great victory
we cannot help hoping that the Federal Government may
be tired of war and bloodshed, rapine and murder, and withdraw
its myriads to more innocent pursuits.

Yesterday evening we were agreeably surprised by a call
from W. B. C., just recovered from his dreadful wound,
received at Fredericksburg last winter. He is an infantry
captain of the Stonewall Brigade, and is just returning to
his company. Alas! alas! his great Captain has passed
away during his absence, which makes his return very sad.
He thinks that General Ewell is the man of all others to
put in his place, though no man can fill it. General Ewell,
he says, is one of General Jackson's most enthusiastic
admirers, believing him to have been almost an inspired
man. General E. relates an incident of him, when on their
victorious march through the Valley last summer, which is
beautifully characteristic of General J. One night, when it
was evident that there must be a battle next day, he (General
E.) went to General Jackson for his plans. General J.
replied that he would give them to him next morning, as
they had not yet been formed. General E. felt uneasy and
restless, and could not sleep. About midnight he arose,
and, passing through the sleeping multitudes, he reached
General Jackson's tent, and was about to raise the curtain

to enter it, when his attention was arrested by the voice of
prayer. General Jackson was praying fervently for guidance
through the coming day. General E. remarked to a
friend that he had never before heard a prayer so devout
and beautiful; he then, for the first time, felt the desire to
be a Christian. He retired to his tent quietly, without
disturbing General J., feeling assured that all would be
well. The next morning a fight came off, replete with
victory. General Ewell was subsequently wounded at the
second battle of Manassas, and it is said that he has since
become a Christian. God grant that it may be so!

May 20th.—I feel depressed to-night. Army news from
the South bad. General Pemberton has been repulsed
between Jackson and Vicksburg. General Johnston is
there; I hope, by the mercy of God, he may be able to
keep the enemy out of Vicksburg. Besides the depressing
news, the day has been distressing in the hospital—so much
suffering among the wounded. One fine young man has the
appearance and manner of imbecility, from having been
struck on the head by a piece of shell. No relief can be
given him, and the surgeons say that he must die.

Mr. — staid in town to attend the Church "Council,"
as it is now called. This new name may be more appropriate
to an ecclesiastical meeting, yet "Virginia Convention"
has a sweet, hallowed sound to me.

23d.—We tremble for Vicksburg; an immense army has
been sent against it; we await its fate with breathless
anxiety.

25th.—The enemy repulsed at Vicksburg, though it is
still in a state of siege. General Johnston is there, and we
hope that the best means will be used to save that heroic
little city; and we pray that God may bless the means used.

A friend called this morning, and told us of the fall of
another of those dear youths, over whose boyish sojourn
with us memory loves to linger. Kennedy Groghan, of
Baltimore, who, in the very beginning of the war, came
over to help us, fell in a skirmish in the Valley, a short
time ago. The only account given us is, that the men were
forced to retreat hastily, and were only able to place his
loved body under the spreading branches of a tree. Oh! I
trust that some kindly hand has put him beneath God's own
earth, free from the din of war, from the strife of man, and
from the curse of sin forever. I remember so well when,
during our stay in Winchester, the first summer of the war,
while General Johnston's army was stationed near there,
how he, and so many others, would come in to see us, with
their yet unfaded suits of gray—already sunburnt and
soldier-like, but bright and cheerful. Alas! alas! how
many now fill the graves of heroes—their young lives
crushed out by the unscrupulous hand of an invading foe!

27th.—The news from Vicksburg by the morning's papers
is very delightful, if authentic. We pause for confirmation
of it. The young people among the villagers and refugees
have been amusing themselves, during the past two evenings,
with tableaux. I am too old to enjoy such things in these
troubled times, but one picture I regretted not seeing. It
represented the young Confederacy. The whole bright
galaxy was there—South Carolina in scarlet, restive and
fiery; Virginia, grave and dignified, yet bright with hope,
seemed to be beckoning Kentucky on, who stood beyond
the threshold, her eyes cast down with shame and suffering;
Maryland was at the threshold, but held back by a strong
hand; all the rest of the fair sisters were there in their
appropriate places, forming a beautiful picture.

I am amused to see how the Democrats of the North are
speechifying and exciting themselves about the arrest of
Vallandigham, and how Lincoln will soon make them back
down.

May 28.—Hospital day. The wounded cheerful and
doing well. I read, distributed books, and talked with them.
They are always ready to be amused, or to be instructed.
I have never but in one instance had an unpleasant word or
look from any whom I endeavoured to treat with kindness
in any way. Bible reading is always kindly received. J. J.
has returned home, as usual much interested in hospital
work.

June 1.—L. and B. went up to Mr. Marye's near
Fredericksburg to-day, to visit their brother's grave. They
took flowers with which to adorn it. It is a sweet, though
sad office, to plant flowers on a Christian's grave. They
saw my sister, who is there, nursing her wounded son.

News from Vicksburg cheering.

5th.—Our household circle has been broken to-day, by
Mrs. S. and her daughter B. leaving it for South Carolina.
We are grieved to give them up.

6th.—We have been interested lately by a visit to this
village of our old friend, Mrs. T., of Rappahannock County,
She gives most graphic descriptions of her sojourn of seven
weeks among the Yankees last summer. Sixty thousand
surrounded her house, under command of General Siegel.
On one occasion, he and his staff rode up and announced
that they would take tea with her. Entirely alone, that
elegant old lady retained her composure, and with unruffled
countenance rang her bell; when the servant appeared, she
said to him, "John, tea for fourteen." She quietly retained
her seat, conversing with them with dignified politeness,

and submitting as best she could to the General's very
free manner of walking about her beautiful establishment,
pronouncing it "baronial," and regretting, in her presence,
that he had not known of its elegancies and comforts in
time, that he might have brought on Mrs. Siegel, and have
made it his head-quarters. Tea being announced, Mrs. T.,
before proceeding to the dining-room, requested the servant
to call a soldier in, who had been guarding her house for
weeks, and who had sought occasion to do her many kindnesses.
When the man entered, the General demurred:
"No, no, madam, he will not go to table with us." Mrs.
T. replied, "General, I must beg that you will allow this
gentleman to come to my table, for he has been a friend to
me when I have sadly wanted one." The General objected
no farther; the man took tea with the master. After tea,
the General proposed music, asking Mrs. T. if she had ever
played; she replied that "such was still her habit." The
piano being opened, she said if she sang at all she must sing
the songs of her own land, and then, with her uncommonly
fine voice, she sang "The Bonnie Blue Flag," "Dixie," and
other Southern songs, with great spirit. They listened with
apparent pleasure. One of the staff then suggested that
the General was a musician. Upon her vacating the seat
he took it, and played in grand style; with so much beauty
and accuracy, she added, with a twinkle of her eye, that I
strongly suspected him of having been a music-master.
Since that time she has heard that he was once master of
that beautiful art in Mobile. Well, he was at least a more
innocent man then than now. Almost every woman of the
South, or at least of Virginia, will have her tale to tell
when this "cruel war is over." The life of too many will
be, alas! as a "tale that is told;" its interest, its charm,
even its hope, as far as this world is concerned, having
passed away. Their crown of rejoicing will be in the public
weal, which their loved and lost have fought, bled, and died
to establish; but their own hearts will be withered, their
hearths deserted.

Mrs. G. D., of Fredericksburg, has been giving some
amusing incidents of her sudden departure from her home.
She had determined to remain, but when, on the night of
the bombardment, a shell burst very near her house, her
husband aroused her to say that she must go. They had
no means of conveyance, and her two children were both
under three years of age, and but one servant, (the others
having gone to the Yankees,) a girl twelve years old. It
so happened that they had access to three straw carriages,
used by her own children and those of her neighbours.
They quickly determined to put a child in each of two
carriages, and to bundle up as many clothes as would fill
the third. The father drew the carriage containing one
child, the mother the other child, and the little girl drew
the bundle of clothes. They thus set out, to go they knew
not whither, only to get out of the way of danger. It was
about midnight, a dark, cold night. They went on and on,
to the outskirts of the town, encountering a confused multitude
rushing pell-mell, with ever and anon a shell bursting
at no great distance, sent as a threat of what they might
expect on the morrow. They were presently overtaken by
a respectable shoemaker whom they knew, rolling a wheelbarrow
containing a large bundle of clothes, and the baby.
They were attracted by the poor little child rolling off from
its elevated place on the bundle, and as Mrs. D. stopped,
with motherly solicitude for the child, the poor man told
his story. In the darkness and confusion he had become

separated from his wife and other children, and knew not
where to find them; he thought he might find them but for
anxiety about the baby. Mrs. D. then proposed that he
should take her bundle of clothes with his in the wheelbarrow,
and put his child into the third straw carriage. This
being agreed to, the party passed on. When they came to
our encampment, a soldier ran out to offer to draw one carriage,
and thus rest the mother; having gone as far as he dared
from his regiment, then another soldier took his place to the
end of his line, and so on from one soldier to another until
our encampment was passed. Then she drew on her little
charge about two miles farther, to the house of an acquaintance,
which was wide open to the homeless. Until late the
next day the shoemaker's baby was under their care, but he
at last came, bringing the bundle in safety. As the day progressed
the cannon roared and the shells whistled, and it
was thought advisable for them to go on to Chancellorsville.
The journey of several miles was performed on foot, still
with the straw carriages, for no horse nor vehicle could be
found in that desolated country. They remained at Chancellorsville
until the 2d or 3d of May, when that house
became within range of cannon. Again she gathered up
her little flock, and came on to Ashland. Her little three-years
old boy explored the boarding-house as soon as he got
to it, and finding no cellar he became alarmed, and running
to his mother, exclaimed, "This house won't do, mother;
we all have no cellar to go into when they shell it!" Thus
our children are born and reared amid war and bloodshed!
It seemed so sad to me to see a bright little girl, a few days
ago, of four years old, stop in the midst of her play, when
she heard distant thunder, exclaiming, "Let me run home,
they are firing!" Poor little child, her father had been a
sacrifice; no wonder that she wanted to run to her mother
when she thought she heard firing. Tales far more sad than
that of Mrs. D. are told, of the poor assembled by hundreds
on the roadside in groups, having no shelter to cover them,
and often nothing to eat, on that dark winter's night.

June 7.—We are living in fear of a Yankee raid. They
have a large force on York River, and are continually
sending parties up the Pamunky and Mattapony Rivers, to
devastate the country and annoy the inhabitants. Not long
ago a party rode to the house of a gentleman on Mattapony;
meeting him on the lawn, the commander accosted
him: "Mr. R., I understand you have the finest horses in
King William County?" "Perhaps, sir, I have," replied
Mr. R. "Well, sir," said the officer, "I want those horses
immediately." "They are not yours," replied Mr. R, "and
you can't get them." The officer began to curse, and said
he would burn every house on the place if the horses were
not produced. Suiting the action to the word, he handed a
box of matches to a subordinate, saying, "Burn!" In half
an hour Mr. R. saw fourteen of his houses in a light blaze,
including the dwelling, the kitchen, corn-houses and barn
filled with grain, meat-house filled with meat, and servants'
houses. Scarcely any thing was saved, not even the family
clothes. But he did not get the horses, which were the
objects of his peculiar wishes; the faithful servants had
carried them away to a place of safety. How strange it is
that we can be so calm, surrounded as we are by danger!

8th.—We have had a cavalry fight near Culpeper Court-House.
We drove the enemy back, but I am afraid that
our men won no laurels, for we were certainly surprised most
shamefully.

16th.—The morning papers gave a telegram from General

Lee, announcing that General Early's Brigade had taken
Winchester by storm. So again Winchester and all that
beautiful country, Clarke, etc., are disenthralled.

It is said that our army will go to Pennsylvania. This I
dread; but it is in God's hands, I believe, for good and not
for evil.

21st.—We hear of fights and rumours of fights. It is
said that Ewell's Division captured 6,000 prisoners at Winchester,
and that General Edward Johnson went to Berryville
and captured 2,000 that were on their way to reinforce
Millroy. They have driven the enemy out of the Valley,
so that now we have possession of it once more. Our cavalry
has been as far as Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, but I
do not know what they have accomplished.

26th.—While in the midst of preparation to visit my
sisters at W. and S. H., we have been startled by the account
of Yankees approaching. They have landed in considerable
force at the White House, and are riding over the
country to burn and destroy. They have burned the South
Anna Bridge on the Central Railroad, and this evening
were advancing on the bridge over the South Anna, on this
railroad, which is but four miles above us. We have a
small force there, and a North Carolina regiment has gone
up to-night to reinforce them. We are, of course, in considerable
excitement. I am afraid they are ruining the
splendid wheat harvests which are now being gathered on
the Pamunky. Trusting in the Lord, who hath hitherto
been our help, we are going quietly to bed, though we believe
that they are very near us. From our army we can
hear nothing. No one can go farther than Culpeper Court-House
in that direction. Why this has been ordered I
know not, but for some good military reason, I have no

doubt. It is said that Stuart's cavalry have been fighting
along the line of the Manassas Gap Railroad with great
success. We can hear no particulars.

Saturday Evening.—Just heard from W. and S. H.;
both terribly robbed by the raiders in the last three days.
All of my brother's horses and mules taken. Some of the
servants were forced off, who staid so faithfully by them,
and resisted all the Yankee entreaties twice before. They
attempted to burn the wheat, which is shocked in the field,
but an opportune rain made it too wet to burn. The raiders
came up the river, destroying crops, carriages, etc., stealing
horses and cattle, and carrying off the servants from every
plantation, until they got to Hickory Hill, (Mr. W. F.
Wickham's,) where they found a prize in the person of
General W. F. Lee, who was wounded at the cavalry fight
of Beverley's Ford, and was at Mr. W's, unable to move.
Notwithstanding the remonstrances of his wife and mother,
they took him out of his bed, placed him in Mr. Wickham's
carriage, and drove off with him. I can't conceive
greater hardness of heart than it required to resist the entreaties
of that beautiful young wife and infirm mother. F.
has just received a note from the former, written in sorrow
and loneliness. She fears that the wound may suffer greatly
by locomotion; beyond that, she has much to dread, but she
scarcely knows what.

Wednesday.—Many exciting rumours to-day about the
Yankees being at Hanover Court-House, within a few miles
of us. They can be traced everywhere by the devastation
which marks their track. There are also rumours that our
army is in Pennsylvania. So may it be! We are harassed
to death with their ruinous raids, and why should not the
North feel it in its homes? Nothing but their personal suffering

will shorten the war. I don't want their women and
children to suffer; nor that our men should follow their example,
and break through and steal. I want our warfare
carried on in a more honourable way; but I do want our
men and horses to be fed on the good things of Pennsylvania;
I want the fine dairies, pantries, granaries, meadows,
and orchards belonging to the rich farmers of Pennsylvania,
to be laid open to our army; and I want it all paid for with
our Confederate money, which will be good at some future
day. I want their horses taken for our cavalry and wagons,
in return for the hundreds of thousands that they have
taken from us; and I want their fat cattle driven into Virginia
to feed our army. It amuses me to think how the
Dutch farmers' wives will be concealing the golden products
of their dairies, to say nothing of their apple-butter, peach-butter,
and their wealth of apple-pies.

July 3.—The scarcity of blank-books, and the very
high prices, make them unattainable to me; therefore I
have determined to begin another volume of my Diary on
some nice wrapping-paper which I happen to have; and
though not very pleasant to write on, yet it is one of the
least of my privations.

We are still worried by reports that the Yankees are
very near us, and we are constantly expecting them to raid
upon Ashland. We have a good force at "The Junction,"
and at the bridge just above us, which they may respect, as
they are dreadfully afraid of our forces.

Spent yesterday in the hospital; the wounded are getting
on well. The city was put into a blaze of excitement
by the report that General Dix was marching on it from the
White House. I dare say they think that General Lee
has left it undefended, in which surmise they are vastly

mistaken. Our troops seem to be walking over Pennsylvania
without let or hindrance. They have taken possession
of Chambersburg, Carlisle, and other smaller towns. They
surrendered without firing a gun. I am glad to see that
General Lee orders his soldiers to respect private property;
but it will be difficult to make an incensed soldiery, whose
houses have in many instances been burned, crops wantonly
destroyed, horses stolen, negroes persuaded off, hogs and
sheep shot down and left in the field in warm weather—it
will be difficult to make such sufferers remember the Christian
precept of returning good for evil. The soldiers in
the hospital seem to think that many a private torch will
be applied "just for revenge." It was in vain that I
quoted to them, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the
Lord." One stoutly maintained that he would like to go
North "just to burn two good houses: one in return for
my own house on Mississippi River; the other for that of
my brother-in-law, both of which they burned just after
landing from their boat, with no pretence at an excuse for
it; and when I think of my wife and children homeless,
I feel as if I could set all Yankeedom in a blaze." Poor
fellow! he became so excited that he arose in his bed, as if
impatient to be off and at his work of vengeance. I am
glad to hear that quantities of horses and fat cattle are
driven into Virginia.

July 4.—Our celebration of this day is more serious
than in days gone by. Our military have no time for dress-parades
and barbecues. The gentlemen could not get home
yesterday evening; the trains were all used for carrying
soldiers to the bridge on this railroad just above us, upon
which the Yankees are making demonstrations. The morning
papers report that General D. H. Hill had a skirmish near

Tunstall's Station on Thursday evening, and repulsed the
enemy. Nothing from our armies in Pennsylvania or Vicksburg.

July 4, Eleven o'Clock P.M.—Heavy musketry to-night,
for two hours, at the bridge above this place. It has ceased,
and we hope that the enemy are driven back.

Mr. — came home this evening; the other gentlemen
are absent. We are going to bed, feeling that we are in
God's hands. The wires are cut between this and "The
Junction," and there is every indication that the Yankees
are near. The telegraph operator has gone off, and great
anxiety is felt about the village. There are no Government
stores here of any sort; I trust that the Yankees know
that, and will not think us worth the trouble of looking
after.

Monday Morning.—The hope I expressed in my last
line on Saturday night was delusive. About one o'clock I
was awakened by E. leaning over me, and saying in a low,
tremulous tone, "Mother, get up, the Yankees are come."
We sprang up, and there they were at the telegraph office,
immediately opposite. In an instant the door was broken
down with a crash, and the battery and other things thrown
out. Axes were at work cutting down the telegraph-poles,
while busy hands were tearing up the railroad. A sentinel
sat on his horse at our gate as motionless as if both man
and horse had been cut from a block of Yankee granite.
We expected every moment that they would come to the
house, or at least go into the hotel opposite to us; but they
went off to the depot. There was a dead silence, except
an occasional order, "Be quick," "Keep a sharp look-out,"
etc., etc. The night was moonlight, but we dressed ourselves
and sat in the dark; we were afraid to open the

window-shutters or to light a lamp, lest they might be attracted
to the house. We remained in this way perhaps
two hours, when the flames suddenly burst from the depot.
All parts of the building seemed to be burning at once;
also immense piles of wood and of plank. The conflagration
was brilliant. As soon as the whole was fairly blazing
the pickets were called in, and the whole party dashed off,
with demoniac yells. Soon after, as the dawn began to
break upon us, doors were thrown open, and the villagers
began to sally forth to the fire. In a short time all of us
were there, from every house—even the babies; and as it became
daylight, an amusing group was revealed. Every one
had dressed in the dark, and all manner of costumes were
to be seen—dressing-gowns, cravatless old gentlemen, young
ladies in curl-papers, collars pinned awry, etc. Some ladies
presented themselves in full costume—handsome dresses,
lace collars, ear-rings and breastpins, watches, etc.—giving
as a reason, that, if they were burnt out, they would at
least save their best clothes—forgetting, the while, that a
Yankee soldier has an irresistible penchant for watches
and other jewelry. Some of us were more catious, and
had put all our valuables in unapproachable pockets—the
pockets to a lady's dress not having proved on all occasions
a place of safety. The loss to the railroad company will
be considerable; to the public very small, for they are
already replacing the broken rails, and the telegraph was
put in operation yesterday.

The morning papers give the Northern account of a
battle in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It gives the victory
to the Federals, though it admits a very heavy loss on their
side; announces the loss of Major-General Reynolds and
Brigadier-General Paul by death. We pause for the truth.

8th.—Accounts from Gettysburg very confused. Nothing
seems to be known certainly; but Vicksburg has fallen!
So says rumour, and we are afraid not to believe. It is a
terrible loss to us; but God has been so good to us heretofore
that we can only say, "It is the Lord." A victory
is announced to the War Department gained by General
Loring in the West; and another gained by General Richard
Taylor over Banks. For these successes I thank God from
my heart. Many troops have passed here to-day, for what
point we know not. Our anxiety is very great. Our home
is blessed with health and comfort.

July 11.—Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th of
July. The terms of capitulation seem marvellously generous
for such a foe. What can the meaning be?

General Lee has had a most bloody battle near Gettysburg.
Our loss was fearful. We have heard of no casualties
except in general officers. General Richard Garnett,
our friend and connection, has yielded up his brave spirit
on a foreign field. He was shot through the head while
standing on the fortifications, encouraging his men and
waving them on to the fight. How my heart bleeds to
think of his hoary-headed father, of whom he was the stay!
General Barksdale, of Mississippi, is another martyr. Also
General Armstead, of Virginia. Generals Kemper and
Pender wounded. I dread to hear of others. Who of
our nearest kin may have ceased to live? When I think
of probabilities and possibilities, I am almost crazy. Some
of our men are reported wounded and in the enemy's hands.
They took many prisoners. The cars are rushing up and
down with soldiers. Two trains with pontoons have gone
up within the last two days. What does it all portend?

July 12.—The enemy is again before Charleston.

Lord, have mercy on the efforts of our people! I am
miserable about my poor little J. P., who is on board the
Chicora, in Charleston harbor.

14th.—To-day spent in the hospital; a number of wounded
there from the fatal field of Gettysburg. They are not
severely wounded, or they could not have been brought so
far. Port Hudson has fallen! It could not be retained
after losing Vicksburg. General Lee's army is near Hagerstown.
Some of the casualties of the Gettysburg fight
which have reached me are very distressing. The death of
James Maupin, of the University of Virginia—so young, so
gentle, so brave! He fell at his gun, as member of the
Second Howitzers of Richmond. My heart goes out in
warmest sympathy for his parents and devoted grandmother.
Colonel James Marshall, of Fauquier, has fallen. He is
yet another of those dear ones over whose youth we so
fondly watched. Yet another was Westwood McCreery,
formerly of Richmond. Another was Valentine Southall.
They all went with bright hope, remembering that every
blow that was struck was for their own South. Alas! alas!
the South now weeps some of her bravest sons. But, trying
as it is to record the death of those dear boys, it is
harder still to speak of those of our own house and blood.
Lieutenant B. H. McGuire, our nephew, the bright, fair-haired
boy, from whom we parted last summer at Lynchburg
as he went on his way to the field, full of buoyancy
and hope, is among the dead at Gettysburg. Also, Captain
Austin Brockenbrough, of Essex County. Virginia
had no son to whom a brighter future opened. His talents,
his education, his social qualities, his affectionate sympathy
with all around him, are all laid low. Oh, may God be
with those of whose life they seemed a part! It is hard to

think of so many of our warm-hearted, whole-souled, brave,
ardent Southern youths, now sleeping beneath the cold
clods of Pennsylvania. We can only hope that the day is
not far distant when we may bring their dear bodies back
to their native soil.

15th.—In Richmond, to-day, I saw my old friend, Mrs.
E. R. C., looking after her sons. One was reported
"wounded;" the other "missing." This sad word may mean
that he is a prisoner; it may mean worse. She can get no
clue to him. His company has not come, and she is very
miserable. Two mothers, one from Georgia, another from
Florida, have come on in pursuit of their sons, and are
searching the hospitals for them. They were not in our
hospital, and we could give them no information, so they
went on to others. There is more unhappiness abroad
among our people than I have ever seen before. Sometimes
I wish I could sleep until it is over—a selfish wish enough;
but it is hard to witness so much sorrow which you cannot
alleviate.

July 18.—This day two years ago the battle of Bull
Run was fought, a kind of prelude to that of Manassas,
on the 21st. Since that time what scenes have been enacted!
Battles have been fought by scores, and lives,
precious lives, have been sacrificed by thousands, and that,
too, of the very flower of our country. Again I have heard
of the death of one of our dear E. H. S. boys—William
H. Robb, of Westmoreland. He was with us for four
years, and was very, very dear to us all. He died of wounds
received in a cavalry fight at Brandy Station. We thought
he had recovered, but this evening brought the fatal tidings.
The news of the New York riots, which they got up in
opposition to the draft, is cheering! Oh! that they could

not get up another army, and would fight each other! Fitz
Lee's cavalry had a fight yesterday at Shepherdstown, and
repulsed the enemy handsomely. All eyes turn gloomily to
Charleston. It is greatly feared that it will have to succumb
to Federal force. I trust that our Heavenly Father
may avert so dire a calamity!

19th.—When shall we recover from this fatal trip into
Pennsylvania? General Pettigrew, of North Carolina,
fell on the retreat, at a little skirmish near the Falling
Waters. Thus our best men seem to be falling on the
right hand and on the left. When speaking of General P's
death, a friend related a circumstance which interested
me. General P. was severely wounded at the battle of
"Seven Pines." He was lying in a helpless condition, when
a young soldier of another command saw him, and, immediately
stooping to the ground, assisted him in getting on
his back, and was bearing him to a place of safety, when
he (the soldier) was struck by a ball and instantly killed.
The General fell to the ground, and remained there, unable
to move, until he was captured by the enemy. He was
subsequently incarcerated in Fort Delaware. Having
learned from the soldier, while on his back, that his name
was White, from Westmoreland County, Virginia, as soon
as the General was exchanged he inquired for the family,
and found that the mother was a respectable widow who
had had five sons on the field, but one of whom survived.
He immediately wrote to her, expressing his deep sense of
obligation to her son for his gracious effort to save his
life, delicately inquired into her circumstances, and offered,
if necessary, to make a liberal provision for her. I did not
learn the widow's reply.

We have had this week a visit of two days from Mrs.

General Lee. She was on her way to the Hot Springs in
pursuit of health, of which she stands greatly in need. She
is a great sufferer from rheumatism, but is cheerful, notwithstanding
her sufferings, bodily and mentally. She is,
of course, unhappy about her imprisoned son, and, I should
suppose, about the overpowering responsibilities of her
noble husband; but of that you never hear a word from
her. She left us this morning, in a box car, fitted up to suit
an invalid, with a bed, chairs, etc. She was accompanied
by the lovely wife of her captive son, also travelling in
pursuit of health. Greater beauty and sweetness rarely
fall to the lot of woman; and as I looked at the sad, delicate
lineaments of her young face, I could but inwardly
pray that the terrible threats denounced against her husband
by Yankee authority might never reach her ear; for,
though we do not believe that they will dare to offer him
violence, yet the mere suggestion would be enough to make
her very miserable.

Yesterday morning we had quite a pleasant diversion, in
attending a marriage in the village. Mr. — performed
the ceremony, and we afterwards breakfasted with the bridal
party. We then proceeded to Richmond—they to spend
their honeymoon in and around the city, and we to our duties
there.

July 23.—Spent the day at the hospital. Mr. —
has just received a post chaplaincy from Government, and
is assigned to the Officers' Hospital on Tenth Street. For
this we are very thankful, as the performance of the duties
of the ministerial office is in all respects congenial to his
taste and feeling. I pray that God may give him health and
strength for the office!

28th.—The girls are in Richmond, staying at Dr. G's.

They went in to attend a tournament to be given to-day
by General Jenkins's Brigade, stationed near Richmond;
but this morning the brigade was ordered to go South, and
great was the disappointment of the young people. They
cannot feel as we do during these gloomy times, but are
always ready to catch the "passing pleasure as it flies,"
forgetting that, in the best times,
And how much more uncertain are they now, when we literally
cannot tell what a day may bring forth, and none of
us know, when we arise in the morning, that we may not
hear before noonday that we have been shorn of all that
makes life dear!

July 29.—A letter of farewell from the Valley, written
as the enemy's lines were closing around our loved ones
there. It is painful to think of their situation, but they are
in God's hands.

It is said that Lee's army and Meade's are approaching
each other. Oh, I trust that a battle is not at hand! I
feel unnerved, as if I could not stand the suspense of another
engagement. Not that I fear the result, for I cannot
believe that Meade could whip General Lee, under any circumstances;
but the dread casualties! The fearful list of
killed and wounded, when so many of our nearest and dearest
are engaged, is too full of anguish to anticipate without
a sinking of heart which I have never known before.

There was a little fight some days ago, near Brandy
Station—the enemy driven across the river. Fredericksburg
and Culpeper Court-House are both occupied by our
troops. This is very gratifying to our Fredericksburg refugees,

who are going up to see if they can recover their
property. All movables, such as household furniture,
books, etc., of any value, have been carried off. Their
houses, in some instances, have been battered down.

I was in Richmond this morning, and bought a calico
dress, for which I gave $2.50 per yard, and considered
it a bargain; the new importations have run up to
$3.50; and $4 per yard. To what are we coming?

30th.—Our good President has again appointed a day for
fasting and prayer.

The Florida and Alabama are performing wonderful feats,
and are worrying the North excessively. Many a cargo
has been lost to the Northern merchant princes by their skill,
and I trust that the Government vessels feel their power.

Several members of our household have gone to the
mountains in pursuit of health—Mr. — among the rest.
Mrs. P., of Amelia, is here, cheering the house by her
sprightliness; and last night we had Mr. Randolph Tucker,
who is a delightful companion—so intellectual, cheerful, and
God-fearing!

The army is unusually quiet at all points. Does it portend
a storm? Many changes are going on in "our village."
The half-English, half-Yankee Wades are gone at
last, to our great relief. I dare say she shakes the dust
from her feet, as a testimony against the South; for she
certainly has suffered very much here, and she will not have
as many difficulties there, with her Yankee Colonel father.
She professes to outrebel the rebels, and to be the most
intense Southern woman of us all; but I rather think that
she deceives herself, and unless I mistake her character very
much indeed, I think when she gets among her own people
she will tell them all she knows of our hopes, fears,

and difficulties. Poor thing! I am glad she is gone to
those persons on whom she has a natural claim for protection.

August 10.—Spent this morning in the house of mourning.
Our neighbour Mrs. S. has lost her eldest son. The
disease was "that most fatal of Pandora's train," consumption.
He contracted it in the Western Army. His poor
mother has watched the ebbing of his life for several
months, and last night he died most suddenly. That young
soldier related to me an anecdote, some weeks ago, with
his short, oppressed breathing and broken sentences, which
showed the horrors of this fratricidal war. He said that
the day after a battle in Missouri, in the Fall of 1861, he,
among others, was detailed to bury the dead. Some Yankee
soldiers were on the field doing the same thing. As
they turned over a dead man, he saw a Yankee stop, look
intently, and then run to the spot with an exclamation of
horror. In a moment he was on his knees by the body, in a
paroxysm of grief. It was his brother. They were Missourians.
The brother now dead had emigrated South some
years before. He said that before the war communication
had been kept up between them, and he had strongly suspected
that he was in the army; he had consequently been
in constant search of his brother. The Northern and Southern
soldier then united in burying him, who was brother in
arms of the one, and the mother's son of the other!

The Bishop and Mrs. J. returned home to-day from their
long trip in the South-west. They travelled with great
comfort, but barely escaped a raid at Wytheville. We
welcomed them gladly. So many of our family party are
wandering about, that our little cottage has become lonely.

Mr. C. has come out, and reports a furious bombardment

of Sumter. This has been going on so long, that I
begin to feel that it is indeed impregnable.

Wednesday.—We are all pursuing the even tenor of our
way, as if there were no war. An order from General
Lee is in to-day's paper, exhorting officers and soldiers to a
strict observance of fast-day, which is on Friday. In the
mean time the enemy is storming Charleston with unprecedented
fury. It is an object of peculiar vengeance. Sumter
has literally fallen, but it has not yielded; its battered walls
bid defiance to the whole power of the North.

August 26.—A week ago I was called to Camp Jackson
to nurse —, who has been very sick there. The hospital
is very extensive, and in beautiful order. It is under the
supervision of Surgeon Hancock, whose whole soul seems
engaged in making it an attractive home to the sick and
wounded. The beautiful shade-trees and bold spring are
delightful to the convalescents during this warm weather.
Fast-day was observed there with great solemnity. I heard
a Methodist chaplain preach to several hundred soldiers,
and I never saw a more attentive congregation.

September 8.—The Government employed the cars yesterday
bringing Longstreet's Corps from Fredericksburg, on
its way to Chattanooga. We all stood at our gate last
night to give the soldiers water; we had nothing else to
give them, poor fellows, as there were three long trains, and
they had no time to stay. They looked healthy and cheerful,
and went off hurrahing for Virginia.

The year of our sojourn at this cottage is nearly over.
Our mess must be broken up, as some of our gentlemen are
ordered away. We have had a very pleasant time, and it
is painful to dissolve our social relations. Not one of the
families is provided with a home; we are all looking out for

lodgings, and find it very difficult to get them. This change
of home, habits, and association is very trying to old persons;
the variety seems rather pleasant to the young.

September 16.—This house is to be sold on the 29th, so
we must all find resting-places before that time. But where?
Room-rent in Richmond is enormously high. We may
get one very small cottage here for forty dollars per month,
but it has the reputation of being unhealthy. Our connection,
Mr. P., is here looking out for a home, and we may
get one together. It would be delightful to have him and
the dear girls with us. No one thinks of boarding; almost
all the boarding-house keepers rent out their rooms, and
refugees keep house in them as cheaply as they choose.

Richmond, 24.—We have all been scattered. The Bishop
has obtained good rooms; the other members of the household
are temporarily fixed. We are here with our son,
looking for rooms every day; very few are vacant, and they
are too high for our means. We shall probably have to
take the little cottage at Ashland, notwithstanding its reputation—either
the cottage or a country-house near Richmond,
about which we are in correspondence with a gentleman.
This plan will be carried out, and work well if the
Lord pleases, and with this assurance we should be satisfied;
but still we are restless and anxious. Our ladies, who have
been brought up in the greatest luxury, are working with
their hands to assist their families. The offices given to
ladies have been filled long ago, and yet I hear of a number
of applicants. Mr. Memminger says that one vacancy will
bring a hundred applications. Some young ladies plait
straw hats for sale; I saw one sold this morning for twenty
dollars—and their fair fingers, which had not been accustomed
to work for their living, plait on merrily; they can

dispose of them easily; and, so far from being ashamed of it,
they take pride in their own handiwork. I went to see
Mrs. — to-day, daughter of one of our gentlemen high
in position, and whose husband was a wealthy landholder in
Maryland. I found her sitting at her sewing-machine,
making an elaborate shirt-bosom. She said she took in
sewing, and spoke of it very cheerfully. "How can we
rent rooms and live on captain's pay?" She began by
sewing for brothers and cousins, then for neighbours, and
now for anybody who will give it to her. She laughingly
added, that she thought she would hang out her sign,
"Plain sewing done here." We certainly are a great
people, women as well as men. This lady, and all other
ladies, have always places at their frugal tables for hungry
soldiers. Many ladies take in copying.

25th.—There has been a great battle in the West, at
Chickamauga, in Tennessee, between Bragg and Rosecranz.
We are gloriously victorious! The last telegram from
General Bragg tells of 7,000 prisoners, thirty-five pieces of
cannon, and 15,000 small-arms, taken by our men. The
fight is not over, though they have been fighting three days.
Longstreet and his corps of veterans are there to reinforce
them. A battle is daily expected on the Rapidan; and, to
use Lincoln's expression, they are still "pegging away" at
Charleston.

September 26.—Spent this morning seeking information
about our plan of living in the country. Nothing satisfactory.

28th.—Mrs. M. and myself went to St. John's Church
yesterday, and heard an excellent sermon from Bishop
Wilmer; service read by Dr. Norwood. Encouraging
news continues from the West. I am still anxious about

our home. Mr. — is sick, and the prospect of getting a
house diminishing. Perhaps I should take comfort from the
fact that a great many persons are homeless as well as ourselves.
If Mr. — were well, I should not feel so hopeless.
The girls, too, are visiting the country, expecting us
to get an impossible home, and I do dislike to disappoint
them. Oh, that we could be perfectly satisfied, knowing
that we are in the Lord's hands!

Cedar Hill, October 4.—We came to Ashland on the
29th, to attend the sale of the house in which we lived last
year. We got a few pieces of furniture, and determined to
rent the little cottage. We spent that night at Mrs. T's,
and came here next morning, and are now collecting hops,
brooms, and the various et cœteras necessary for housekeeping.
A refugee friend, who will change her location,
has lent us her furniture, so that we expect to be very snug.
Of course we shall have no curtains nor carpets, which are
privations in our old age, but the deficiencies must be made
up by large wood fires and bright faces. The war has
taught useful lessons, and we can make ourselves comfortable
and happy on much less than we ever dreamed of
before.

October 24.—Since writing in my diary, our plans have
been entirely changed. Our old friend, Mrs. R., offered us
rooms in Richmond, on such terms as are within our means,
and a remarkable circumstance connected with it is, that
they are in the house which my father once occupied,
and the pleasant chamber which I now occupy I left this
month twenty-nine years ago. It is much more convenient
to live in Richmond than in Ashland, so that we have rented
the little cottage to another. One room answers the purpose
of dining-room and sleeping-room, by putting a large

screen around the bed; the girls have a room, and we use
the parlour of the family for entertaining our guests. For
this we pay $60 per month and half of the gas bill.

But this has been a sad, sad month to me, and I find it
very difficult to bring my mind to attend to the ordinary
affairs of life. On the 11th of this month, our nephew, Captain
William B. Newton, was killed while leading a cavalry
charge in Culpeper County. We have the consolation of
believing that his redeemed spirit has passed into heaven;
but to how many has the earth been left desolate! His
young wife and three lovely children; his father, mother,
sisters, brothers, uncles and aunts, have seen the pride of
their hearts pass away. His country mourns him as a great
public loss. The bar, the legislative hall, and the camp
proudly acknowledge his brilliant talents. In peace, the
country looked to him as one to whom her best interests
would hereafter be intrusted; in war, as one of the most
gallant officers on the field. An early and ardent Secessionist,
he was among the first to turn from the delightful
home circle, where he ever sought his happiness, to go to
the defence of right. He came into the field as First
Lieutenant of the Hanover Troop; shortly after became
its Captain, loved and revered by his men; and the commission
of Lieutenant-Colonel of his regiment, the Fourth
Virginia Cavalry, was on its way to him; but, alas! alas!
it reached its destination a few hours too late. God be
with my precious — and her sweet children! I long and
yet dread to go to that once bright home, the light of which
has faded forever.

I was shocked to hear that on the fatal Sunday on which
my darling William fell, three of our E. H. S. boys had
come to a glorious, though untimely end, on the same field—

Surgeon John Nelson, Lieutenant Lomax Tayloe, and Private
J. Vivian Towles; and at Bristow Station, a few days
afterwards, dear little Willie Robinson, son of my old friends,
Mr. Conway and Mrs. Mary Susan Robinson. He was but
eighteen. I attended his funeral on Wednesday last, and
there learned that he was a devoted Christian. These dear
boys! Oh, I trust that they sprang from the din of the
battle-field to the peace of heaven! Lord, how long must
we suffer such things?

25th.—To-day we heard the Rev. Mr. Peterkin, from
the text: "Be not weary in well-doing." It was a delightful
sermon, persuasive and encouraging. Mr.—spends
Sunday morning always in the hospital. He has Hospital
No. 1, in addition to the Officers' Hospital, under his care.
They occupy a great deal of his time, in the most interest
ing way.

27th.—I was surprised this morning by a precious visit
from S. S. She went to Petersburg this evening, to join
her husband, who is stationed there. She seems to think
that she can never return to her Winchester home, so completely
is every thing ruined. It is strange how we go on
from month to month, living in the present, without any
certain prospect for the future. We had some sweet, sad
talk of our dear William. She says he was prepared, and
God took him. At his funeral, his pastor took out his
last letter from him, but became so overwhelmed with tears
that he could not read it. It is right, and we must submit;
but it is a bitter trial to give up one we loved so dearly.

28th.—Our niece, M. P., came for me to go with her on
a shopping expedition. It makes me sad to find our money
depreciating so much, except that I know it was worse
during the old Revolution. A merino dress cost $150,

long cloth $5.50 per yard, fine cotton stockings $6 per pair;
handkerchiefs, for which we gave fifty cents before the war,
are now $5. There seems no scarcity of dry-goods of the
ordinary kinds; bombazines, silks, etc., are scarce and very
high; carpets are not to be found—they are too large to
run the blockade from Baltimore, from which city many of
our goods come.

November 9.—We are now quite comfortably fixed, in
what was once my mother's chamber, and most unexpectedly
we have a carpet. The other day, while entertaining some
friends, in this chamber by night, dining-room by day, and
parlour ever and anon, Mrs. Secretary Mallory walked in,
who, like ourselves, has had many ups-and-downs during
the Confederacy, and therefore her kind heart knows exactly
how to sympathize with others. While talking away, she
suddenly observed that there was no carpet on the floor,
and exclaimed, "Mrs. —, you have no carpet! My
boxes have just come from Montgomery, where I left them
two years ago, filled with carpets and bedding. I have
five, and I will lend you one. Don't say a word; I couldn't
be comfortable, and think of you with this bare floor.
Mr. — is too delicate for it, and you are both too old to
begin now on an uncarpeted room." An hour after she left
us a servant came with the carpet, which was soon
tacked down, and gives a home-like, comfortable air to the
room.

11th.—Just received a visit from my nephew, W. N.,
who is on his way to Fauquier to be married. I had not
seen him since he lost his leg. He is still on crutches, and
it made my heart bleed to see him walk with such difficulty.
I believe that neither war, pestilence, nor famine could put
an end to the marrying and giving in marriage which is

constantly going on. Strange that these sons of Mars can
so assiduously devote themselves to Cupid and Hymen; but
every respite, every furlough, must be thus employed. I
am glad they can accomplish it; and if the "brave deserve
the fair," I am sure that the deeds of daring of our Southern
soldiers should have their reward. My niece, L. B., of
Lexington, would have been married to-morrow night, but
her betrothed, Captain S., has been ordered off to meet the
enemy. The marriage is, of course, postponed. Poor
fellow! I trust that he may come safely home.

I have just written to Colonel Northrup, Commissary-General,
to ask an appointment as clerk in his department.
So many of the young men have been ordered to the field,
that this office has been open to ladies. My cousin, Colonel
F. G. Ruffin, of the same office, has interested himself for
me. They require us to say that we are really in want of
the office—rather a work of supererogation, I should say,
as no lady would bind herself to keep accounts for six hours
per day without a dire necessity.

13th.—My appointment to a clerkship in the Commissary
Department has been received, with a salary of $125 per
month. The rooms are not ready for us to begin our
duties, and Colonel R. has just called to tell me one of the
requirements. As our duties are those of accountants, we
are to go through a formal examination in arithmetic. If
we do not, as the University boys say, "pass," we are considered
incompetent, and of course are dropped from the
list of appointees. This requirement may be right, but it
certainly seems to me both provoking and absurd that I
must be examined in arithmetic by a commissary major
young enough to be my son. If I could afford it, I would
give up the appointment, but, as it is, must submit with the

best grace possible, particularly as other ladies of my age
have to submit to it.

November 15.—Went this morning to — Church and
heard the Gospel preached, but in a manner so dull, and in
a voice so monotonous, that I did not hear with much
profit. I mourn that I did not, for I believe that some of
the most God-serving, and therefore efficient ministers, are
those who are not attractive as preachers, and there must
be some defect in the listener who is not profited by the
Gospel preached in spirit and in truth, though not set forth
in an attractive form. I would that our best preachers
could be sent to the field, for the soldiers, having such
temptations to spending the Sabbath in idleness, should
have the Gospel made impressive and interesting, so that
they may be induced to attend the services and to enjoy
them.

W. N. and his sweet bride passed through town this
week. It was very pleasant to see how she understood his
wants; how naturally she would open the doors, gates, etc.,
and assist him in walking up and down steps. I trust he
may soon be able to give up his crutches. L. B. is also
married and in town, staying at Judge M's. Captain S.
returned from the wars a few nights after the one appointed,
and was married in quite the old style of bridesmaids
and groomsmen, with a bridal supper which I am told
reminded one of peace times.

Our army does not seem prospering in the West. Bragg
has fallen back. We long to hear better things. A battle
seems imminent on the Rappahannock; ninety-three wagons
filled with ammunition were yesterday captured by Colonel
Rosser—a good capture, at a good time.

December 4.—On Friday last there was a severe fight

on the Rapidan, at Germanna Ford. The enemy were
splendidly repulsed; but my dear Raleigh T. Colston, Lieutenant-Colonel
of the Second Regiment, was shot through
his left leg, which was amputated on the field. I thank
God that he is doing well, and feel so thankful that his life
was spared! His mother was in Powhatan, on a visit to one
of her daughters; but, becoming uneasy at seeing that General
Edward Johnson's Division had been engaged, immediately
came to Richmond. The cars arrived at night, and
she came directly to our rooms. We were surprised to see
her, and I, supposing that she had heard of her son's misfortune,
was about to say what I could to relieve her mind,
when she exclaimed, "I know that my sons are safe, from
your countenance." "Yes," said I; "W. is safe, and R.
is doing well; he was wounded in his leg." "Severely?"
she asked. "His left leg has been amputated below the
knee; he is at the University, under the care of Mr. and
Mrs. Minor and his sisters, and is doing remarkably well.
Colonel Ruffin received a telegram to-day, and I a letter."
She passed her hand across her eyes for a minute, and said,
"Thank God, his life is spared!" Next morning she left us
for the University.

General Bragg has met with a repulse in the South-west,
and was pursued; but, being reinforced, has again attacked
the enemy and repulsed them. This occurred in the Northwestern
part of Georgia. The papers say that the enemy
under General Grant has retreated towards Chattanooga.
Longstreet, when last heard from, was at Knoxville. Meade,
on the Rapidan, after having been in line of battle for
several days, has fallen back, finding that General Lee was
ready to meet him.

December 6.—I this morning attended the funeral of Mr.

John Seddon, brother of the Secretary of War. It was a
most solemn occasion; he was a man of fine talents and
high character. The Rev. Dr. Moore, of the Presbyterian
Church, preached a most beautiful sermon.

December 12.—To-day I was examined on arithmetic—
"Denominate numbers, vulgar and decimal fractions, tare
and tret," etc., etc., by Major Brewer, of the Commissary
Department. I felt as if I had returned to my childhood.
But for the ridiculousness of the thing, I dare say I
should have been embarrassed. On Monday I am to enter
on the duties of the office. We are to work from nine till
three.

We have just received from our relatives in the country
some fine Irish and sweet potatoes, cabbages, butter, sausages,
chines, and a ham; and from a friend in town two
pounds of very good green tea. These things are very acceptable,
as potatoes are twelve dollars per bushel, pork and
bacon two dollars fifty cents per pound, and good tea at
twenty-five dollars per pound. How are the poor to live?
Though it is said that the poor genteel are the real sufferers.
Money is laid aside for paupers by every one who can
possibly do it, but persons who do not let their wants be
known are the really poor.

Sunday, Dec. 13.—The first anniversary of the battle of
Fredericksburg, where we lost so many valuable lives, and
where the Federals were throughly whipped. Since that
time we have lost many lives, which nothing can repay; but
we hold our own, have had some victories, and have been
upon the whole much blessed by God. At St. James's
Church, this morning, and heard a very fine sermon from
the Rev. Mr. Peterkin, from the text, "Blessed are the
poor in spirit." To-night we expect to hear Bishop Lay.