ACONFEDERATE 
 GIRL'S DIARY 
 
library of 
 !be University of Xlovtl} Carolina 
 
 KENAN .MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 
 I N M K M O R Y K 
 
 WILLIAM RANI) KENAN 
 
 given by his daughter 
 
 .MARY LILY KENAN FLAOLER 
 
 Devoted to the History of the Smith in 
 
 the Civil \V;u- 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/confederategirlsdaws 
 
SARAH FOWLER MORGAN 
 
A CONFEDERATE GIRL'S 
 DIARY 
 
 BY 
 
 Sarah Morgan Dawson 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 WARRINGTON DAWSON 
 AND WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 l 9*3 
 
COPYRIGHT, I913, BY WARRINGTON DAWSON 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published September iqi% 
 

 To 
 Those Who Endured and Forgave 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Sarah Fowler Morgan Frontispiece 
 
 From a daguerreotype in the possession of the family. 
 
 Miriam Morgan 64 
 
 From a daguerreotype in the possession of the family. 
 
 James Morris Morgan 114 
 
 From a daguerreotype in the possession of the family. 
 
 Facsimile of a Page of the Diary 150 
 
 Sarah Fowler 192 
 
 Sully's portrait of Mrs. Morgan. 
 
 LlNWOOD 236 
 
 Built by General A. G. Carter in 1848, now the home of 
 his grandson, Howell Morgan. This was a Spanish grant 
 and has always remained in the family. 
 
 The ante-bellum Home of Judge Thomas Gibbes 
 
 Morgan 3° 8 
 
 On Church Street, Baton Rouge, La., now the property of 
 St. Joseph Academy, and used as an annex. 
 
 Judge Thomas Gibbes Morgan 34 6 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 It is perhaps due to a chance conversation, held some 
 seventeen years ago in New York, that this Diary of 
 the Civil War was saved from destruction. 
 
 A Philadelphian had been talking with my mother 
 of North and South, and had alluded to the engage- 
 ment between the Essex and the Arkansas, on the 
 Mississippi, as a brilliant victory for the Federal 
 navy. My mother protested, at once; said that she 
 and her sister Miriam, and several friends, had been 
 witnesses, from the levee, to the fact that the Con- 
 federates had fired and abandoned their own ship 
 when the machinery broke down, after two shots 
 had been exchanged: the Federals, cautiously turn- 
 ing the point, had then captured but a smoking hulk. 
 The Philadelphian gravely corrected her ; history, it 
 appeared, had consecrated, on the strength of an 
 official report, the version more agreeable to North- 
 ern pride. 
 
 "But I wrote a description of the whole, just a 
 few hours after it occurred!" my mother insisted. 
 "Early in the war I began to keep a diary, and 
 continued until the very end ; I had to find some vent 
 for my feelings, and I would not make an exhibition 
 of myself by talking, as so many women did. I have 
 written while resting to recover breath in the midst 
 of a stampede; I have even written with shells 
 
 ix 
 
Introduction 
 
 bursting over the house in which I sat, ready to flee 
 but waiting for my mother and sisters to finish their 
 preparations." 
 
 "If that record still existed, it would be invalu- 
 able," said the Philadelphian. "We Northerners are 
 sincerely anxious to know what Southern women 
 did and thought at that time, but the difficulty is to 
 find authentic contemporaneous evidence. All that 
 I, for one, have seen, has been marred by improve- 
 ment in the light of subsequent events." 
 
 "You may read my evidence as it was written 
 from March 1862 until April 1865," my mother 
 declared impulsively. 
 
 At our home in Charleston, on her return, she 
 unstitched with trembling hands a linen-bound 
 parcel always kept in her tall, cedar-lined wardrobe 
 of curled walnut. On it was scratched in ink "To be 
 burned unread after my death"; it contained, she 
 had once told me, a record of no interest save to her 
 who had written it and lacked the courage to re-read 
 it; a narrative of days she had lived, of joys she had 
 lost; of griefs accepted, of vain hopes cherished. 
 
 From the linen, as the stitches were cut, fell five 
 blank books of different sizes. Two, of convenient 
 dimensions, might have been intended for diaries; 
 the other three, somewhat unwieldy, were partly 
 used ledgers from Judge P. H. Morgan's office. 
 They were closely written in a clear, firm hand ; the 
 ink, of poor quality, had faded in many places to a 
 pale brown scarcely darker than the deep yellow to 
 
Introduction 
 
 which time had burned the paper. The effort to 
 read under such conditions, and the tears shed over 
 the scenes evoked, might well have cost my mother 
 her sight; but she toiled for many weeks, copying 
 out the essential portions of the voluminous record 
 for the benefit of the Northerner who really wished 
 to know. 
 
 Her transcription finished, she sent it to Phila- 
 delphia. It was in due course returned, with cold 
 regrets that the temptation to rearrange it had not 
 been resisted. No Southerner at that time could 
 possibly have had opinions so just or foresight so 
 clear as those here attributed to a young girl. Ex- 
 planation was not asked, nor justification allowed: 
 the case, tried by one party alone, with evidence 
 seen from one standpoint alone, had been judged 
 without appeal. 
 
 Keenly wounded and profoundly discouraged, my 
 mother returned the diaries to their linen envelope, 
 and never saw them again. But my curiosity had 
 been roused by these incidents; in the night, 
 thoughts of the records would haunt me, bringing 
 ever the ante-bellum scent of the cedar-lined ward- 
 robe. I pleaded for the preservation of the volumes, 
 and succeeded at last when, beneath the injunction 
 that they should be burned, my mother wrote a deed 
 of gift to me with permission to make such use of 
 them as I might think fitting. 
 
 Reading those pages for myself, of late, as I 
 transcribed them in my turn, I confess to having 
 
Introduction 
 
 blamed the Philadelphia!! but lightly for his 
 skepticism. 
 
 Here was a girl who, by her own admission, had 
 known but ten months' schooling in her life, and had 
 educated herself at home because of her yearning for 
 knowledge; and yet she wrote in a style so pure, 
 with a command of English so thorough, that rare 
 are the pages where she had to stop for the alteration 
 of so much as one word. The very haste of noting 
 what had just occurred, before more should come, 
 had disturbed the pure line of very few among these 
 flowing sentences. There are certain uses of words 
 to which the twentieth century purist will take ex- 
 ception; but if he is familiar with Victorian liter- 
 ature he will know that these points have been 
 solved within the last few decades — and not all 
 solved to the satisfaction of everyone, even now. 
 
 But underlying this remarkable feat of style, are 
 a fairness of treatment and a balance of judgment 
 incredible at such a period and in an author so 
 young. On such a day, we may note an entry de- 
 nouncing the Federals before their arrival at Baton 
 Rouge; another page, and we see that the Federal 
 officers are courteous and considerate, we hear 
 regrets that denunciations should have been dic- 
 tated by prejudice. Does Farragut bombard a 
 town occupied by women and children, or does 
 Butler threaten to arm negroes against them? Be 
 sure, then, that this Southern girl will not spare 
 adjectives to condemn them! But do Southern 
 
 xii 
 
Introduction 
 
 women exaggerate in applying to all Federals the 
 opprobrium deserved by some? Then those women 
 will be criticized for forgetting the reserve imposed 
 upon ladies. This girl knew then what history has 
 since established, and what enlightened men and 
 women on both sides of Mason and Dixon's line 
 have since acknowledged: that in addition to the 
 gentlemen in the Federal ranks who always be- 
 haved as gentlemen should, there were others, both 
 officers and privates, who had donned the Federal 
 uniform because of the opportunity for rapine 
 which offered, and who were as unworthy of the 
 Stars and Stripes as they would have been of the 
 Stars and Bars. 
 
 I can understand, therefore, that this record 
 should meet with skepticism at the hands of theor- 
 ists committed to an opinion, or of skimmers who 
 read guessing the end of a sentence before they 
 reach the middle. But the originals exist to-day, 
 and have been seen by^others than myself; and I 
 pledge myself here to the assertion that I have 
 taken no liberties, have made no alterations, but 
 have strictly adhered to my task of transcription, 
 merely omitting here and there passages which deal 
 with matters too personal to merit the interest of the 
 public. 
 
 Those who read seriously, and with unbiased 
 mind, will need no external guarantees of authentic- 
 ity, however; for the style is of that spontaneous 
 quality which no imitation could attain, and which 
 
 xiii 
 
Introduction 
 
 attempted improvement could only mar. The very 
 construction of the whole — for it does appear as a 
 whole — is influenced by the circumstances which 
 made the life of that tragic period. 
 
 The author begins with an airy appeal to Madame 
 Idleness — in order to forget. Then, the war seemed 
 a sacred duty, an heroic endeavor, an inevitable 
 trial, according as Southerners chose to take it; but 
 the prevailing opinion was that the solution would 
 come in victory for Southern arms, whether by their 
 own unaided might or with the support of English in- 
 tervention. The seat of war was far removed, and but 
 for the absence of dear ones at the front and anxi- 
 ety about them, Southern women would have been 
 little disturbed in their routine of household duties. 
 But presently the roar of cannon draws near, actual 
 danger is experienced in some cases, suffering and 
 privation must be accepted in all. Thenceforth, the 
 women are part of the war ; there may be interludes 
 of plantation life momentarily secure from bullets 
 and from oppression, yet the cloud is felt hanging 
 ever lower and blacker. Gradually, the writer's gay 
 spirit fails; an injury to her spine, for which ade- 
 quate medical care cannot be found in the Confed- 
 eracy, and the condition of her mother, all but 
 starving at Clinton, drive these Southern women to 
 the protection of a Union relative in New Orleans. 
 The hated Eagle Oath must be taken, the beloved 
 Confederacy must be renounced at least in words. 
 Entries in the Diary become briefer and briefer, yet 
 
 xiv 
 
Introduction 
 
 are sustained unto the bitter end, when the deaths 
 of two brothers, and the crash of the Lost Cause, are 
 told with the tragic reserve of a broken heart. 
 
 I have alluded to passages omitted because too 
 personal. That the clearness of the narrative may 
 not suffer, I hope to be pardoned for explaining 
 briefly, here, the position of Sarah Morgan's family 
 at the outbreak of the Civil War. 
 
 Her father, Judge Thomas Gibbes Morgan, had 
 been Collector of the Port of New Orleans, and in 
 1 86 1 was Judge of the District Court of the Parish 
 of Baton Rouge. In complete sympathy with 
 Southern rights, he disapproved of Secession as a 
 movement fomented by hotheads on both sides, 
 but he declared for it when his State so decided. 
 He died at his home in Baton Rouge in November, 
 1861, before the arrival of Farragut's fleet. 
 
 Judge Thomas Gibbes Morgan's eldest son, 
 Philip Hickey Morgan, was also a Judge, of the 
 Second District Court of the Parish of Orleans. 
 Judge P. H. Morgan (alluded to as "Brother" and 
 his wife as "Sister" throughout the Diary) disap- 
 proved of Secession like his father, but did not stand 
 by his State. He declared himself for the Union, and 
 remained in New Orleans when the Federals took 
 possession, but refused to bear arms against his 
 brothers and friends. His position enabled him to 
 render signal services to many Confederate prisoners 
 suffering under Butler's rule. And it was a conversa- 
 
 xv 
 
Intr<5duction 
 
 tion of his with President Hayes, when he told the 
 full, unprejudiced truth about the Dual Govern- 
 ment and the popular sentiment of Louisiana, which 
 put an end to Reconstruction there by the Washing- 
 ton Government's recognition of General Francis T. 
 Nicholls, elected Governor by the people, instead of 
 Packard, declared Governor by the Republican 
 Returning Board of the State. Judge P. H. Morgan 
 had proved his disinterestedness in his report to the 
 President ; for the new Democratic r6gime meant his 
 own resignation from t the post of Associate Justice 
 of the Supreme Court of Louisiana which he held 
 under the Republicans. He applied then to himself a 
 piece of advice which he later was to give a young 
 relative mentioned in the pages of this Diary: 
 "Always remember that it is best to be in accord 
 with the sentiments of the vast majority of the 
 people in your State. They are more apt to be right, 
 on public questions of the day, than the individual 
 citizen." 
 
 If Judge Thomas Gibbes Morgan's eldest son 
 stayed within the Union lines because he would not 
 sanction Secession, his eldest daughter — Lavinia — 
 was on the Federal side also, married to Colonel 
 Richard Coulter Drum, then stationed in California, 
 and destined to become, in days of peace, Adjutant- 
 General under President Cleveland's first adminis- 
 tration. Though spared the necessity of fighting 
 against his wife's brothers, Colonel Drum was 
 largely instrumental in checking the Secession move- 
 
 xvi 
 
Introduction 
 
 merit in California which would probably have 
 assured the success of the South. 
 
 In the early days of Secession agitation, another 
 son of Judge T. G. Morgan, Henry, had died in a 
 duel over a futile quarrel which busybodies had 
 envenomed. The three remaining sons had gone off 
 to the war. Thomas Gibbes Morgan, Jr., married 
 to Lydia, daughter of General A. G. Carter and a 
 cousin of Mrs. Jefferson Davis, was Captain in the 
 Seventh Louisiana Regiment, serving under Stone- 
 wall Jackson; George Mather Morgan, unmarried, 
 was a Captain in the First Louisiana, also with 
 Jackson in Virginia. The youngest, James Morris 
 Morgan, had resigned from Annapolis, where he was a 
 cadet, and hurried back to enlist in the Confederate 
 navy. 
 
 At the family home in Baton Rouge, only women 
 and children remained. There was Judge Morgan's 
 widow, Sarah Fowler Morgan; a married daughter, 
 Eliza or "Lilly," with her five children; and two 
 unmarried daughters, Miriam and Sarah. "Lilly's" 
 husband, J. Charles La Noue, came and went; 
 unable to abandon his large family without protector 
 or resources, he had not joined the regular army, but 
 took a part in battles near whatever place of refuge 
 he had found for those dependent on him. We note, 
 for instance, that he helped in the Confederate attack 
 on Baton Rouge, together with General Carter, 
 whose age had prevented him from taking regular 
 service. 
 
 xvii 
 
Introduction 
 
 A word more as to the author of this Diary, and 
 I have finished. 
 
 The war over, Sarah Morgan knitted together the 
 threads of her torn life and faced her present, in 
 preparation for whatever the future might hold. In 
 South Carolina, under Reconstruction, she met a 
 young Englishman, Captain Francis Warrington 
 Dawson, who had left his home in London to fight 
 for a cause where his chivalrous nature saw right 
 threatened by might. In the Confederate navy 
 under Commodore Pegram, in the Army of Northern 
 Virginia under Longstreet, at the close of the war 
 he was Chief Ordnance officer to General Fitzhugh 
 Lee. But although the force of arms, of men, of 
 money, of mechanical resources, of international 
 support, had decided against the Confederacy, he 
 refused to acknowledge permanent defeat for 
 Southern ideals, and so cast his lot with those beside 
 whom he had fought. His ambition was to help his 
 adopted country in reconquering through jour- 
 nalism and sound politics that which seemed lost 
 through war. What he accomplished in South 
 Carolina is a matter of public record to-day. The 
 part played in this work by Sarah Morgan as his 
 wife is known to all who approached them during 
 their fifteen years of a married life across which no 
 shadow ever fell. 
 
 Sarah Morgan Dawson was destined to outlive 
 not only her husband, but all save three of her eight 
 brothers and sisters, and most of the relatives and 
 
Introduction 
 
 friends mentioned in the pages which follow; was 
 destined to endure deep affliction once more, and to 
 renounce a second home dearer than that first whose 
 wreck she recorded during the war. Yet never did 
 her faith, her courage, her steadfastness fail her, 
 never did the light of an almost childlike trust in 
 God and in mankind fade from her clear blue eyes. 
 The Sarah Morgan who, as a girl, could stifle her 
 sobs as she forced herself to laugh or to sing, was the 
 mother I knew in later years. 
 
 I love most to remember her in the broad tree- 
 shaded avenues of Versailles where, dreaming of a 
 distant tragic past, she found ever new strength to 
 meet the present. Death claimed her not far from 
 there, in Paris, at a moment when her daughter in 
 America, her son in Africa, were powerless to reach 
 her. But souls like unto hers leave their mark in 
 passing through the world ; and, though in a foreign 
 land, separated from all who had been dear to her, 
 she received from two friends such devotion as few 
 women deserve in life, and such as few other women 
 are capable of giving. 
 
 She had done more than live and love : — she had 
 endured while endurance was demanded; and, 
 released from the house of bondage, she had, without 
 trace of bitterness in her heart, forgiven those who 
 had caused her martyrdom. 
 
 Warrington Dawson. 
 
 Versailles, France, 
 July, 1913. 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 
 March 9th, 1862. 
 
 Here I am, at your service, Madame Idleness, 
 waiting for any suggestion it may please you to put 
 in my weary brain, as a means to pass this dull, 
 cloudy Sunday afternoon; for the great Pike clock 
 over the way has this instant struck only half-past 
 three ; and if a rain is added to the high wind that has 
 been blowing ever since the month commenced, and 
 prevents my going to Mrs. Brunot's before dark, I 
 fear I shall fall a victim to "the blues" for the first 
 time in my life. Indeed it is dull. Miriam went to 
 Linewood with Lydia yesterday, and I miss them 
 beyond all expression. Miriam is so funny! She says 
 she cannot live without me, and yet she can go away, 
 and stay for months without missing me in the 
 slightest degree. Extremely funny ! And I — well, 
 it is absurd to fancy myself alive without Miriam. 
 She would rather not visit with me, and yet, be it 
 for an hour or a month, I never halfway enjoy my- 
 self without her, away from home. Miriam is my 
 "Rock ahead" in life; I'll founder on her yet. It's 
 a grand sight for people out of reach, who will not 
 come in contact with the breakers, but it is quite 
 
 I 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 another thing to me, perpetually dancing on those 
 sharp points in my little cockleshell that forms so 
 ludicrous a contrast to the grand scene around. I am 
 sure to founder! 
 
 I hold that every family has at heart one genius, 
 in some line, no matter what — except in our family, 
 where each is a genius, in his own way. Hem ! And 
 Miriam has a genius for the piano. Now I never 
 could bear to compete with any one, knowing that 
 it is the law of my being to be inferior to others, con- 
 sequently to fail, and failure is so humiliating to me. 
 So it is, that people may force me to abandon any 
 pursuit by competing with me; for knowing that 
 failure is inevitable, rather than fight against des- 
 tiny I give up de bonne grdce. Originally, I was said 
 to have a talent for the piano, as well as Miriam. 
 Sister and Miss Isabella said I would make a better 
 musician than she, having more patience and per- 
 severance. However, I took hardly six months' les- 
 sons to her ever so many years ; heard how well she 
 played, got disgusted with myself, and gave up the 
 piano at fourteen, with spasmodic fits of playing 
 every year or so. At sixteen, Harry gave me a guitar. 
 Here was a new field where I would have no compet- 
 itors. I knew no one who played on it; so I set to 
 work, and taught myself to manage it, mother only 
 teaching me how to tune it. But Miriam took a fancy 
 to it, and I taught her all I knew; but as she gained, 
 I lost my relish, and if she had not soon abandoned 
 it, I would know nothing of it now. She does not 
 
 2 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 know half that I do about it; they tell me I play 
 much better than she ; yet they let her play on it in 
 company before me, and I cannot pretend to play 
 after. Why is it? It is not vanity, or I would play, 
 confident of excelling her. It is not jealousy, for I 
 love to see her show her talents. It is not selfishness; 
 I love her too much to be selfish to her. What is it 
 then? "Simply lack of self-esteem" I would say if 
 there was no phrenologist near to correct me, and 
 point out that well-developed hump at the extreme 
 southern and heavenward portion of my Morgan 
 head. Self-esteem or not, Mr. Phrenologist, the 
 result is, that Miriam is by far the best performer in 
 Baton Rouge, and I would rank forty-third even in 
 the delectable village of Jackson. 
 
 And yet I must have some ear for music. To 
 "know as many songs as Sarah " is a family proverb ; 
 not very difficult songs, or very beautiful ones, to 
 be sure, besides being very indifferently sung; but 
 the tunes will run in my head, and it must take some 
 ear to catch them. People say to me, "Of course you 
 play?" to which I invariably respond, "Oh, no, but 
 Miriam plays beautifully!" "You sing, I believe?" 
 "Not at all — except for father" (that is what I 
 used to say) — "and the children. But Miriam 
 sings." "You are fond of dancing?" "Very; but I 
 cannot dance as well as Miriam." "Of course, you 
 are fond of society?" "No, indeed! Miriam is, and 
 she goes to all the parties and returns all the visits 
 for me." The consequence is, that if the person who 
 
 3 
 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 questions is a stranger, he goes off satisfied that 
 "that Miriam must be a great girl; but that little 
 sister of hers — ! Well! a prig, to say the least!" 
 
 So it is Miriam catches all my fish — and so it is, 
 too, that it is not raining, and I 'm off. 
 
 April 7th. 
 
 Until that dreary 1861, I had no idea of sorrow or 
 grief. . . . How I love to think of myself at that time ! 
 Not as myself, but as some happy, careless child 
 who danced through life, loving God's whole world 
 too much to love any particular one, outside of her 
 own family. She was more childish then — yet I like 
 her for all her folly; I can say it now, for she is as 
 dead as though she was lying underground. 
 
 Now do not imagine that Sarah has become an 
 aged lady in the fifteen months that have elapsed 
 since, for it is no such thing; her heart does ache 
 occasionally, but that is a secret between her and this 
 little rosewood furnished room; and when she gets 
 over it, there is no one more fond of making wheel- 
 barrows of the children, or of catching Charlie or 
 mother by the foot and making them play lame 
 chicken. . . . Now all this done by a young lady 
 who remembers eighteen months ago with so much 
 regret that she has lost so much of her high spirits 
 — might argue that her spirits were before tremen- 
 dous; and yet they were not. That other Sarah was 
 ladylike, I am sure, in her wildest moments, but 
 there is something hurried and boisterous in this 
 
 4 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 one's tricks that reminds me of some one who is 
 making a merit of being jolly under depressing cir- 
 cumstances. No! that is not a nice Sarah now, to 
 my taste. 
 
 The commencement of '61 promised much pleas- 
 ure for the rest of the year, and though Secession 
 was talked about, I do not believe any one antici- 
 pated the war that has been desolating our country 
 ever since, with no prospect of terminating for some 
 time to come. True the garrison was taken, but 
 then several pleasant officers of the Louisiana army 
 were stationed there, and made quite an agreeable 
 addition to our small parties, and we did not think 
 for a moment that trouble would grow out of it — 
 at least, we girls did not. Next Louisiana seceded, 
 but still we did not trouble ourselves with gloomy 
 anticipations, for many strangers visited the town, 
 and our parties, rides, and walks grew gayer and 
 more frequent. 
 
 One little party — shall I ever forget it? — was 
 on the 9th of March, I think; such an odd, funny 
 little party ! Such queer things happened ! What a 
 
 fool Mr. McG made of himself! Even more so 
 
 than usual. But hush! It's not fair to laugh at a 
 lady — under peculiar circumstances. And he tried 
 so hard to make himself agreeable, poor fellow, that 
 I ought to like him for being so obedient to my com- 
 mands. "Say something new; something funny," I 
 said, tired of a subject on which he had been expa- 
 
 5 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tiating all the evening ; for I had taken a long ride 
 with him before sunset, he had escorted me to Mrs. 
 Brunot's, and here he was still at my side, and his 
 conversation did not interest me. To hear, with him, 
 was to obey. "Something funny? Well — " here he 
 commenced telling something about somebody, the 
 fun of which seemed to consist in the somebody's 
 having "knocked his shins" against something else. 
 I only listened to the latter part; I was bored, and 
 showed it. "Shins!" was I to laugh at such a story? 
 
 April 1 2 th. 
 Day before yesterday, just about this time of 
 evening, as I came home from the graveyard, Jimmy 
 unexpectedly came in. Ever since the 12th of Feb- 
 ruary he has been waiting on the Yankees' pleasure, 
 in the Mississippi, at all places below Columbus, 
 and having been under fire for thirteen days at 
 Tiptonville, Island No. 10 having surrendered 
 Monday night; and Commodore Hollins thinking it 
 high time to take possession of the ironclad ram at 
 New Orleans, and give them a small party below the 
 forts, he carried off his little aide from the McRae 
 Tuesday morning, and left him here Thursday 
 evening, to our infinite delight, for we felt as though 
 we would never again see our dear little Jimmy. He 
 has grown so tall, and stout, that it is really astonish- 
 ing, considering the short time he has been away. . . . 
 To our great distress, he jumped up from dinner, 
 and declared he must go to the city on the very next 
 
 6 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 boat. Commodore Hollins would need him, he must 
 be at his post, etc., and in twenty minutes he was 
 off, the rascal, before we could believe he had been 
 here at all. There is something in his eye that reminds 
 me of Harry, and tells me that, like Hal, he will die 
 young. 
 
 And these days that are going by remind me of 
 Hal, too. I am walking in our footsteps of last year. 
 The eighth was the day we gave him a party, on 
 his return home. I see him so distinctly standing 
 near the pier table, talking to Mr. Sparks, whom 
 he had met only that morning, and who, three 
 weeks after, had Harry's blood upon his hands. He 
 is a murderer now, without aim or object in life, as 
 before ; with only one desire — to die — and death 
 still flees from him, and he Dares not rid himself of 
 life. 
 
 All those dancing there that night have under- 
 gone trial and affliction since. Father is dead, and 
 Harry. Mr. Trezevant lies at Corinth with his skull 
 fractured by a bullet; every young man there has 
 been in at least one battle since, and every woman 
 has cried over her son, brother, or sweetheart, going 
 away to the wars, or lying sick and wounded. And 
 yet we danced that night, and never thought of 
 bloodshed! The week before Louisiana seceded, 
 Jack Wheat stayed with us, and we all liked him so 
 much, and he thought so much of us; — and last 
 week — a week ago to-day — he was killed on the 
 battle-field of Shiloh. 
 
 7 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 April 1 6th. 
 Among the many who visited us, in the beginning 
 of 1861, there was Mr. Bradford. I took a dislike 
 to him the first time I ever saw him, and, being 
 accustomed to say just what I pleased to all the 
 other gentlemen, tried it with him. It was at din- 
 ner, and for a long while I had the advantage, and 
 though father would sometimes look grave, Gibbes, 
 and all at my end of the table, would scream with 
 laughter. At last Mr. Bradford commenced to re- 
 taliate, and my dislike changed into respect for a man 
 who could make an excellent repartee with perfect 
 good-breeding; and after dinner, when the others 
 took their leave, and he asked permission to remain, 
 — during his visit, which lasted until ten o'clock, he 
 had gone over such a variety of subjects, conversing 
 so well upon all, that Miriam and I were so inter- 
 ested that we forgot to have the gas lit ! 
 
 April 17 th. 
 
 And another was silly little Mr. B r, my little 
 
 golden calf. What a — don't call names ! I owe him 
 a grudge for "cold hands," and the other day, when 
 I heard of his being wounded at Shiloh, I could not 
 
 help laughing a little at Tom B r's being hurt. 
 
 What was the use of throwing a nice, big cannon 
 ball, that might have knocked a man down, away 
 on that poor little fellow, when a pea from a popgun 
 would have made the same impression? Not but 
 what he is brave, but little Mr. B r is so soft. 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Then there was that rattle-brain Mr. T 1 who, 
 
 commencing one subject, never ceased speaking until 
 he had touched on all. One evening he came in 
 talking, and never paused even for a reply until he 
 bowed himself out, talking still, when Mr. Bradford, 
 who had been forced to silence as well as the rest, 
 threw himself back with a sigh of relief and ex- 
 claimed, "This man talks like a woman ! " I thought 
 
 it the best description of Mr. T t's conversation 
 
 I had ever heard. It was all on the surface, no pre- 
 tensions to anything except to put the greatest pos- 
 sible number of words of no meaning in one sentence, 
 while speaking of the most trivial thing. Night or 
 
 day, Mr. T 1 never passed home without crying 
 
 out to me, " Ces jolis yeux bleus!" and if the parlor 
 were brightly lighted so that all from the street 
 might see us, and be invisible to us themselves, I 
 always nodded my head to the outer darkness and 
 laughed, no matter who was present, though it 
 sometimes created remark. You see, I knew the 
 
 joke. Coming from a party escorted by Mr. B r, 
 
 Miriam by Mr. T 1, 1 we had to wait a long time 
 
 before Rose opened the door, which interval I em- 
 ployed in dancing up and down the gallery — 
 followed by my cavalier — singing, — - 
 
 "Mes jolis yeux bleus, 
 Bleus comme les cieux, 
 Mes jolis yeux bleus 
 Ont ravi son a me," etc.; 
 
 1 Note added at the time: "O propriety! Gibbes and Lydia were 
 with us too." 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 which naive remark Mr. B r, not speaking 
 
 French, lost entirely, and Mr. T 1 endorsed it 
 
 with his approbation and belief in it, and ever after- 
 wards called me " Ces jolis yeux bleus." 
 
 April 19th, 1862. 
 
 Another date in Hal's short history! I see myself 
 walking home with Mr. McG just after sun- 
 down, meeting Miriam and Dr. Woods at the gate; 
 only that was a Friday instead of a Saturday, as 
 this. From the other side, Mr. Sparks comes up and 
 joins us. We stand talking in the bright moonlight 
 which makes Miriam look white and statue-like. I 
 am holding roses in my hand, in return for which 
 one little pansy has been begged from my garden, 
 and is now figuring as a shirt-stud. I turn to speak 
 to that man of whom I said to Dr. Woods, before I 
 even knew his name, "Who is this man who passes 
 here so constantly? I feel that I shall hate him to 
 my dying day." He told me his name was Sparks, 
 a good, harmless fellow, etc. And afterwards, when 
 I did know him, [Dr. Woods] would ask every time 
 we met, "Well! do you hate Sparks yet?" I could 
 not really hate any one in my heart, so I always 
 answered, "He is a good-natured fool, but I will 
 hate him yet." But even now I cannot: my only 
 feeling is intense pity for the man who has dealt 
 us so severe a blow; who made my dear father bow 
 his gray head, and shed such bitter tears. 
 
 The moon is rising still higher now, and people are 
 
 10 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 hurrying to the grand Meeting, where the state 
 of the country is to be discussed, and the three young 
 men bow and hurry off, too. Later, at eleven o'clock, 
 Miriam and I are up at Lydia's waiting (until the 
 boat comes) with Miss Comstock who is going away. 
 As usual, I am teasing and romping by turns. 
 Harry suddenly stands in the parlor door, looking 
 very grave, and very quiet. He is holding father's 
 stick in his hand, and says he has come to take us 
 over home. I was laughing still, so I said, "Wait," 
 while I prepared for some last piece of folly, but he 
 smiled for the first time, and throwing his arm 
 around me, said, "Come home, you rogue!" and 
 laughing still, I followed him. 
 
 He left us in the hall, saying he must go to Charlie's 
 a moment, but to leave the door open for him. So 
 we went up, and I ran in his room, and lighted his 
 gas for him, as I did every night when we went up 
 together. In a little while I heard him come in and 
 go to his room. I knew nothing then ; but next day, 
 going into mother's room, I saw him standing before 
 the glass door of her armoir, looking at a black coat 
 he had on. Involuntarily I cried out, "Oh, don't, 
 Hal!" "Don't what? Isn't it a nice coat?" he 
 asked. "Yes; but it is buttoned up to the throat, 
 and I don't like to see it. It looks — " here I went 
 out as abruptly as I came in; that black coat so 
 tightly buttoned troubled me. 
 
 He came to our room after a while and said he 
 was going ten miles out in the country for a few 
 
 ii 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 days. I begged him to stay, and reproached him for 
 going away so soon after he had come home. But 
 he said he must, adding, " Perhaps I am tired of you, 
 and want to see something new. I '11 be so glad to 
 get back in a few days." Father said yes, he must go, 
 so he went without any further explanation. 
 
 Walking out to Mr. Davidson's that evening, 
 Lydia and I sat down on a fallen rail beyond the 
 Catholic graveyard, and there she told me what had 
 happened. The night before, sitting on Dr. Woods's 
 gallery, with six or eight others who had been sing- 
 ing, Hal called on Mr. Henderson to sing. He com- 
 plied by singing one that was not nice. 1 Old Mr. 
 Sparks got up to leave, and Hal said, "I hope we 
 are not disturbing you?" No, he said he was tired 
 and would go home. As soon as he was gone, his 
 son, who I have since heard was under the influence 
 of opium, — though Hal always maintained that he 
 was not, — said it was a shame to disturb his poor 
 old father. Hal answered, "You heard what he 
 said. We did not disturb him." "You are a liar!" 
 the other cried. That is a name that none of our 
 family has either merited or borne with; and quick 
 as thought Hal sprang to his feet and struck him 
 across the face with the walking-stick he held. The 
 blow sent the lower part across the balcony in the 
 street, as the spring was loosened by it, while the 
 upper part, to which was fastened the sword — for 
 it was father's sword-cane — remained in his hand. 
 1 Note by Mrs. Dawson in 1896: "Annie Laurie!" . 
 12 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I doubt that he ever before knew the cane could come 
 apart. Certainly he did not perceive it, until the 
 other whined piteously he was taking advantage 
 over an unarmed man ; when, cursing him, he (Harry) 
 threw it after the body of the cane, and said, " Now 
 we are equal." The other's answer was to draw a 
 knife, 1 and was about to plunge it into Harry, who 
 disdained to flinch, when Mr. Henderson threw 
 himself on Mr. Sparks and dragged him off. 
 
 It was a little while after that Harry came for us. 
 The consequence of this was a challenge from Mr. 
 Sparks in the morning, which was accepted by Harry's 
 friends, who appointed Monday, at Greenwell, to 
 meet. Lydia did not tell me that; she said she 
 thought it had been settled peaceably, so I was not 
 uneasy, and only wanted Harry to come back from 
 Seth David's soon. The possibility of his fighting 
 never occurred to me. 
 
 Sunday evening I was on the front steps with 
 Miriam and Dr. Woods, talking of Harry and wish- 
 ing he would come. "You want Harry!" the doctor 
 repeated after me; "you had better learn to live 
 without him." "What an absurdity!" I said and 
 wondered when he would come. Still later, Miriam, 
 father, and I were in the parlor, when there was a 
 tap on the window, just above his head, and I saw 
 a hand, for an instant. Father hurried out, and we 
 heard several voices; and then steps going away. 
 Mother came down and asked who had been there, 
 
 1 Note by Mrs. Dawson: Bowie knife. 
 13 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 but we only knew that, whoever it was, father had 
 afterward gone with them. Mother went on: 
 "There is something going on, which is to be kept 
 from me. Every one seems to know it, and to make 
 a secret of it." I said nothing, for I had promised 
 Lydia not to tell; and even I did not know all. 
 
 When father came back, Harry was with him. I 
 saw by his nod, and "How are you, girls," how he 
 wished us to take it, so neither moved from our 
 chairs, while he sat down on the sofa and asked what 
 kind of a sermon we had had. And we talked of 
 anything except what we were thinking of, until we 
 went upstairs. 
 
 Hal afterwards told me that he had been arrested 
 up there, and father went with him to give bail ; and 
 that the sheriff had gone out to Greenwell after Mr. 
 Sparks. He told me all about it next morning, say- 
 ing he was glad it was all over, but sorry for Mr. 
 Sparks ; for he had a blow on his face which nothing 
 would wash out. I said, "Hal, if you had fought, 
 much as I love you, I would rather he had killed 
 you than that you should have killed him. I love 
 you too much to be willing to see blood on your 
 hands." First he laughed at me, then said, "If I 
 had killed him, I never would have seen you again." 
 
 We thought it was all over; so did he. But Baton 
 Rouge was wild about it. Mr. Sparks was the bully 
 of the town, having nothing else to do, and when- 
 ever he got angry or drunk, would knock down any- 
 body he chose. That same night, before Harry met 
 
 14 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 him, he had slapped one man, and had dragged 
 another over the room by the hair ; but these coolly 
 went home, and waited for a voluntary apology. So 
 the mothers, sisters, and intimate friends of those 
 who had patiently borne the blows, and being 
 "woolled," vaunted the example of their heroes, 
 and asked why Dr. Morgan had not acted as they 
 had done, and waited for an apology? Then there 
 was another faction who cried only blood could wash 
 out that blow and make a gentleman of Mr. Sparks 
 again, — as though he ever had been one ! So knots 
 assembled at street corners, and discussed it, until 
 father said to us that Monday night, "These people 
 are so excited, and are trying so hard to make this 
 affair worse, that I would not be surprised if they 
 shot each other down in the street," speaking of 
 Harry and the other. 
 
 Hal seemed to think of it no more, though, and 
 Wednesday said he must go to the city and consult 
 Brother as to where he should permanently estab- 
 lish himself. I was sorry ; yet glad that he would then 
 get away from all this trouble. I don't know that 
 I ever saw him in higher spirits than he was that 
 day and evening, the 24th. Lilly and Charlie were 
 here until late, and he laughed and talked so inces- 
 santly that we called him crazy. We might have 
 guessed by his extravagant spirits that he was 
 trying to conceal something from us. . . . 
 
 He went away before daybreak, and I never saw 
 him again. 
 
 15 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 April 26th, 1862. 
 
 There is no word in the English language that can 
 express the state in which we are, and have been, 
 these last three days. Day before yesterday, news 
 came early in the morning of three of the enemy's 
 boats passing the Forts, and then the excitement 
 began. It increased rapidly on hearing of the sink- 
 ing of eight of our gunboats in the engagement, the 
 capture of the Forts, and last night, of the burning 
 of the wharves and cotton in the city while the 
 Yankees were taking possession. To-day, the ex- 
 citement has reached the point of delirium. I be- 
 lieve I am one of the most self-possessed in my small 
 circle; and yet I feel such a craving for news of 
 Miriam, and mother, and Jimmy, who are in the 
 city, that I suppose I am as wild as the rest. It is 
 nonsense to tell me I am cool, with all these patri- 
 otic and enthusiastic sentiments. Nothing can be 
 positively ascertained, save that our gunboats are 
 sunk, and theirs are coming up to the city. Every- 
 thing else has been contradicted until we really 
 do not know whether the city has been taken or 
 not. We only know we had best be prepared for 
 anything. So day before yesterday, Lilly and I 
 sewed up our jewelry, which may be of use if we 
 have to fly. I vow I will not move one step, unless 
 carried away. Come what will, here I remain. 
 
 We went this morning to see the cotton burning — 
 a sight never before witnessed, and probably never 
 again to be seen. Wagons, drays, — everything 
 
 16 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that can be driven or rolled, — were loaded with 
 the bales and taken a few squares back to burn on 
 the commons. Negroes were running around, cut- 
 ting them open, piling them up, and setting them 
 afire. All were as busy as though their salvation 
 depended on disappointing the Yankees. Later, 
 Charlie sent for us to come to the river and see him 
 fire a flatboat loaded with the precious material 
 for which the Yankees are risking their bodies and 
 souls. Up and down the levee, as far as we could see, 
 negroes were rolling it down to the brink of the river 
 where they would set them afire and push the bales 
 in to float burning down the tide. Each sent up 
 its wreath of smoke and looked like a tiny steamer 
 puffing away. Only I doubt that from the source 
 to the mouth of the river there are as many boats 
 afloat on the Mississippi. The flatboat was piled 
 with as many bales as it could hold without sinking. 
 Most of them were cut open, while negroes staved 
 in the heads of barrels of alcohol, whiskey, etc., and 
 dashed bucketsful over the cotton. Others built up 
 little chimneys of pine every few feet, lined with 
 pine;knots t and loose cotton, to burn more quickly. 
 There, piled the length of the whole levee, or burn- 
 ing in the river, lay the work of thousands of negroes 
 for more than a year past. It had come from every 
 side. Men stood by who owned the cotton that was 
 burning or waiting to burn. They either helped, or 
 looked on cheerfully. Charlie owned but sixteen 
 bales — a matter of some fifteen hundred dollars ; 
 
 17 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 but he was the head man of the whole affair, and 
 burned his own, as well as the property of others. 
 A single barrel of whiskey that was thrown on the 
 cotton, cost the man who gave it one hundred and 
 twenty-five dollars. (It shows what a nation in ear- 
 nest is capable of doing.) Only two men got on the 
 flatboat with Charlie when it was ready. It was 
 towed to the middle of the river, set afire in every 
 place, and then they jumped into a little skiff 
 fastened in front, and rowed to land. The cotton 
 floated down the Mississippi one sheet of living 
 flame, even in the sunlight. It would have been 
 grand at night. But then we will have fun watching 
 it this evening anyway ; for they cannot get through 
 to-day, though no time is to be lost. Hundreds of 
 bales remained untouched. An incredible amount of 
 property has been destroyed to-day; but no one be- 
 grudges it. Every grog-shop has been emptied, and 
 gutters and pavements are floating with liquors of 
 all kinds. So that if the Yankees are fond of strong 
 drink, they will fare ill. 
 
 Yesterday, Mr. Hutchinson and a Dr. Moffat 
 called to ask for me, with a message about Jimmy. 
 I was absent, but they saw Lilly. Jimmy, they said, 
 was safe. Though sick in bed, he had sprung up and 
 had rushed to the wharf at the first tap of the alarm 
 bell in New Orleans. But as nothing could be done, 
 he would probably be with us to-day, bringing 
 mother and Miriam. I have neither heard nor seen 
 more. The McRae, they said, went to the bottom 
 
 18 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with the others. They did not know whether any 
 one aboard had escaped. God be praised that Jimmy 
 was not on her then ! The new boat to which he was 
 appointed is not yet finished. So he is saved ! I am 
 distressed about Captain Huger, and could not re- 
 frain from crying, he was so good to Jimmy. But 
 I remembered Miss Cammack might think it rather 
 tender and obtrusive, so I dried my eyes and began to 
 hope he had escaped. Oh! how glad I should be to 
 know he has suffered no harm. Mr. Hutchinson was 
 on his way above, going to join others where the 
 final battle is to be fought on the Mississippi. He 
 had not even time to sit down ; so I was doubly grate- 
 ful to him for his kindness. I wish I could have 
 thanked him for being so considerate of me in my 
 distress now. In her agitation, Lilly gave him a 
 letter I had been writing to George when I was 
 called away ; and begged him to address it and mail 
 it at Vicksburg, or somewhere ; for no mail will leave 
 here for Norfolk for a long while to come. The odd 
 part is, that he does not know George. But he said 
 he would gladly take charge of it and remember the 
 address, which Lilly told him was Richmond. Well! 
 if the Yankees get it they will take it for an insane 
 scrawl. I wanted to calm his anxiety about us, 
 though I was so wildly excited that I could only 
 say, " Don't mind us ! We are safe. But fight, George ! 
 Fight for us!" The repetition was ludicrous. I 
 meant so much, too! I only wanted him to under- 
 stand he could best defend us there. Ah! Mr. Yan- 
 
 19 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 kee! if you had but your brothers in this world, and 
 their lives hanging by a thread, you too might 
 write wild letters ! And if you want to know what an 
 excited girl can do, just call and let me show you 
 the use of a small seven-shooter and a large carving- 
 knife which vibrate between my belt and my pocket, 
 
 always ready for emergencies. 
 
 April 27th. 
 
 What a day! Last night came a dispatch that 
 New Orleans was under British protection, and could 
 not be bombarded ; consequently, the enemy's gun- 
 boats would probably be here this morning, such few 
 as had succeeded in passing the Forts; from nine to 
 fifteen, it was said. And the Forts, they said, had 
 not surrendered. I went to church; but I grew very 
 anxious before it was over, feeling that I was needed 
 at home. When I returned, I found Lilly wild with 
 excitement, picking up hastily whatever came to 
 hand, preparing for instant flight, she knew not 
 where. The Yankees were in sight; the town was to 
 be burned; we were to run to the woods, etc. If the 
 house had to be burned, I had to make up my mind 
 to run, too. So my treasure-bag tied around my waist 
 as a bustle, a sack with a few necessary articles hang- 
 ing on my arm, some few quite unnecessary ones, too, 
 as I had not the heart to leave the old and new prayer 
 books father had given me, and Miriam's, too; — 
 pistol and carving-knife ready, I stood awaiting the 
 exodus. I heaped on the bed the treasures I wanted 
 to burn, matches lying ready to fire the whole at the 
 
 20 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 last minute. I may here say that, when all was over, 
 I found I had omitted many things from the holo- 
 caust. This very diary was not included. It would 
 have afforded vast amusement to the Yankees. 
 There may yet be occasion to burn them, and the 
 house also. People fortunately changed their minds 
 about the auto-da-fe just then ; and the Yankees have 
 not yet arrived, at sundown. So, when the excite- 
 ment calmed down, poor Lilly tumbled in bed in a 
 high fever in consequence of terror and exertion. 
 
 [A page torn out] 
 
 I was right in that prophecy. For this was not the 
 Will Pinckney I saw last. So woebegone! so subdued, 
 careworn, and sad! No trace of his once merry self. 
 He is good-looking, which he never was before. But 
 I would rather never have seen him than have found 
 him so changed. I was talking to a ghost. His was a 
 sad story. He had held one bank of the river until 
 forced to retreat with his men, as their cartridges 
 were exhausted, and General Lovell omitted sending 
 more. They had to pass through swamps, wading 
 seven and a half miles, up to their waists in water. 
 He gained the edge of the swamp, saw they were over 
 the worst, and fell senseless. Two of his men brought 
 him milk, and "woke him up," he said. His men fell 
 from exhaustion, were lost, and died in the swamp ; 
 so that out of five hundred, but one hundred escaped. 
 This he told quietly and sadly, looking so heart- 
 broken that it was piteous to see such pain. He 
 
 21' 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 showed me his feet, with thick clumsy shoes which an 
 old negro had pulled off to give him ; for his were lost 
 in the swamp, and he came out bare-footed. They 
 reached the Lafourche River, I believe, seized a boat, 
 and arrived here last night. His wife and child were 
 aboard. Heaven knows how they got there! The 
 men he sent on to Port Hudson, while he stopped 
 here. I wanted to bring his wife to stay with us; but 
 he said she could not bear to be seen, as she had run 
 off just as she had happened to be at that moment. 
 In half an hour he would be off to take her to his old 
 home in a carriage. There he would rejoin his men, 
 on the railroad, and march from Clinton to the 
 Jackson road, and so on to Corinth. A long journey 
 for men so disheartened ! But they will conquer in 
 the end. Beauregard's army will increase rapidly at 
 this rate. The whole country is aroused, and every 
 man who owns a gun, and many who do not, are on 
 the road to Corinth. We will conquer yet. 
 
 May 5th. 
 Vile old Yankee boats, four in number, passed up 
 this morning without stopping. After all our excite- 
 ment, this "silent contempt" annihilated me! What 
 in the world do they mean? The river was covered 
 with burning cotton; perhaps they want to see 
 
 where it came from. 
 
 May 9th. 
 
 Our lawful (?) owners have at last arrived. About 
 sunset, day before yesterday, the Iroquois anchored 
 
 22 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 here, and a graceful young Federal stepped ashore, 
 carrying a Yankee flag over his shoulder, and asked 
 the way to the Mayor's office. I like the style! If 
 we girls of Baton Rouge had been at the landing, 
 instead of the men, that Yankee would never have 
 insulted us by flying his flag in our faces ! We would 
 have opposed his landing except under a flag of 
 truce ; but the men let him alone, and he even found 
 a poor Dutchman willing to show him the road ! 
 
 He did not accomplish much; said a formal de- 
 mand would be made next day, and asked if it was 
 safe for the men to come ashore and buy a few neces- 
 saries, when he was assured the $jr of Baton Rouge 
 was very unhealthy for Yankee soldiers at night. 
 He promised very magnanimously not to shell us 
 out if we did not molest him; but I notice none of 
 them dare set their feet on terra firma, except the offi- 
 cer who has now called three times on the Mayor, 
 and who is said to tremble visibly as he walks the 
 streets. 
 
 Last evening came the demand : the town must be 
 surrendered immediately; the Federal flag Must be 
 raised; they would grant us the same terms they 
 granted New Orleans. Jolly terms those were! The 
 answer was worthy of a Southerner. It was, "The 
 town was defenseless ; if we had cannon, there were 
 not men enough to resist; but if forty vessels lay at 
 the landing, — it was intimated we were in their 
 power, and more ships coming up, — we would not 
 surrender; if they wanted, they might come and 
 
 23 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Take us ; if they wished the Federal flag hoisted over 
 the Arsenal, they might put it up for themselves, the 
 town had no control over Government property." 
 Glorious ! What a pity they did not shell the town ! 
 But they are taking us at our word, and this morning 
 they are landing at the Garrison. 
 
 "All devices, signs, and flags of the Confederacy 
 shall be suppressed." So says Picayune Butler. 
 Good. I devote all my red, white, and blue silk to the 
 manufacture of Confederate flags. As soon as one is 
 confiscated, I make another, until my ribbon is ex- 
 hausted, when I will sport a duster emblazoned in 
 high colors, "Hurra! for the Bonny blue flag!" 
 Henceforth, I wear one pinned to my bosom — not 
 a duster, but a little flag; the man who says take it 
 off will have to pull it off for himself; the man who 
 dares attempt it — well ! a pistol in my pocket fills 
 up the gap. I am capable, too. 
 
 This is a dreadful war, to make even the hearts of 
 women so bitter! I hardly know myself these last 
 few weeks. I, who have such a horror of bloodshed, 
 consider even killing in self-defense murder, who 
 cannot wish them the slightest evil, whose only 
 prayer is to have them sent back in peace to their 
 own country, — I talk of killing them ! For what 
 else do I wear a pistol and carving-knife? I am afraid 
 I will try them on the first one who says an insolent 
 word to me. Yes, and repent for it ever after in sack- 
 cloth and ashes. 01 if I was only a man! Then I 
 could don the breeches, and slay them with a will! 
 
 24 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 If some few Southern women were in the ranks, they 
 
 could set the men an example they would not blush 
 
 to follow. Pshaw ! there are no women here ! We are 
 
 all men ! 
 
 May ioth. 
 
 Last night about one o'clock I was wakened and 
 told that mother and Miriam had come. Oh, how 
 glad I was! I tumbled out of bed half asleep and 
 hugged Miriam in a dream, but waked up when I got 
 to mother. They came up under a flag of truce, on 
 a boat going up for provisions, which, by the way, 
 was brought to by half a dozen Yankee ships in suc- 
 cession, with a threat to send a broadside into her 
 if she did not stop — the wretches knew it must be 
 under a flag of truce ; no boats leave, except by special 
 order to procure provisions. 
 
 What tales they had to tell! They were on the 
 wharf, and saw the ships sail up the river, saw the 
 broadside fired into Will Pinckney's regiment, the 
 boats we fired, our gunboats, floating down to meet 
 them all wrapped in flames ; twenty thousand bales 
 of cotton blazing in a single pile ; molasses and sugar 
 thrown over everything. They stood there opposite 
 to where one of the ships landed, expecting a broad- 
 side, and resolute not to be shot in the back. I wish 
 I had been there ! And Captain Huger is not dead ! 
 They had hopes of his life for the first time day be- 
 fore yesterday. Miriam saw the ball that had just 
 been extracted. He will probably be lame for the 
 rest of his life. It will be a glory to him. For even 
 
 25 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the Federal officers say that never did they see so 
 gallant a little ship, or one that fought so desperately 
 as the McRae. Men and officers fought like devils. 
 Think of all those great leviathans after the poor 
 little " Widow Mickey " ! One came tearing down on 
 her sideways, while the Brooklyn fired on her from 
 the other side, when brave Captain Warley put the 
 nose of the Manassas under the first, and tilted her 
 over so that the whole broadside passed over, in- 
 stead of through, the McRae, who spit back its poor 
 little fire at both. And after all was lost, she carried 
 the wounded and the prisoners to New Orleans, and 
 was scuttled by her own men in port. Glorious 
 Captain Huger! And think of his sending word to 
 Jimmy, suffering as he was, that "his little brass 
 cannon was game to the last." Oh! I hope he will 
 recover. Brave, dare-devil Captain Warley is pris- 
 oner, and on the way to Fort Warren, that home 
 of all brave, patriotic men. We'll have him out. 
 And my poor little Jimmy! If I have not spoken of 
 him, it is not because I have lost sight of him for a 
 moment. The day the McRae went down, he arose 
 from his bed, ill as he was, and determined to rejoin 
 her, as his own boat, the Mississippi, was not ready. 
 When he reached the St. Charles, he fell so very ill 
 that he had to be carried back to Brother's. Only 
 his desperate illness saved him from being among the 
 killed or wounded on that gallant little ship. A few 
 days after, he learned the fate of the ship, and was 
 told that Captain Huger was dead. No wonder he 
 
 26 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 should cry so bitterly! For Captain Huger was as 
 tender and as kind to him as his own dear father. 
 God bless him for it ! The enemy's ships were sailing 
 up; so he threw a few articles in a carpet-bag and 
 started off for Richmond, Corinth, anywhere, to 
 fight. Sick, weak, hardly able to stand, he went off, 
 two weeks ago yesterday. We know not where, and 
 we have never heard from him since. Whether he 
 succumbed to that jaundice and the rest, and lies 
 dead or dying on the road, God only knows. We can 
 only wait and pray God to send dear little Jimmy 
 home in safety. 
 
 And this is war!* Heaven save me from like 
 scenes and experiences again. I was wild with ex- 
 citement last night when Miriam described how the 
 soldiers, marching to the depot, waved their hats to 
 the crowds of women and children, shouting, "God 
 bless you, ladies! We will fight for you!" and they, 
 waving their handkerchiefs, sobbed with one voice, 
 "God bless you, Soldiers! Fight for us!" 
 
 We, too, have been having our fun. Early in the 
 evening, four more gunboats sailed up here. We saw 
 them from the corner, three squares off, crowded with 
 men even up in the riggings. The American flag was 
 flying from every peak. It was received in profound 
 silence, by the hundreds gathered on the banks. I 
 could hardly refrain from a groan. Much as I once 
 loved that flag, I hate it now ! I came back and made 
 myself a Confederate flag about five inches long, 
 slipped the staff in my belt, pinned the flag to my 
 
 27 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 shoulder, and walked downtown, to the consterna- 
 tion of women and children, who expected something 
 awful to follow. An old negro cried, "My young 
 missus got her flag flyin', anyhow!" Nettie made 
 one and hid it in the folds of her dress. But we were 
 the only two who ventured. We went to the State 
 House terrace, and took a good look at the Brooklyn 
 which was crowded with people who took a good 
 look at us, likewise. The picket stationed at the 
 Garrison took alarm at half a dozen men on horse- 
 back and ran, saying that the citizens were attack- 
 ing. The kind officers aboard the ship sent us word 
 that if they were molested, the town would be 
 shelled. Let them! Butchers! Does it take thirty 
 thousand men and millions of dollars to murder 
 defenseless women and children? O the great nation! 
 
 Bravo ! 
 
 May nth. 
 
 I — I am disgusted with myself. No unusual 
 thing, but I am peculiarly disgusted this time. Last 
 evening, I went to Mrs. Brunot's, without an idea 
 of going beyond, with my flag flying again. They 
 were all going to the State House, so I went with 
 them; to my great distress, some fifteen or twenty 
 Federal officers were standing on the first terrace, 
 stared at like wild beasts by the curious crowd. I had 
 not expected to meet them, and felt a painful con- 
 viction that I was unnecessarily attracting attention, 
 by an unladylike display of defiance, from the crowd 
 gathered there. But what was I to do? I felt humili- 
 
 28 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ated, conspicuous, everything that is painful and 
 disagreeable ; but — strike my colors in the face of 
 the enemy? Never! Nettie and Sophie had them, 
 too, but that was no consolation for the shame I 
 suffered by such a display so totally distasteful to 
 me. How I wished myself away, and chafed at my 
 folly, and hated myself for being there, and every 
 one for seeing me. I hope it will be a lesson to me 
 always to remember a lady can gain nothing by 
 such display. 
 
 I was not ashamed of the flag of my country, — 
 I proved that by never attempting to remove it in 
 spite of my mortification, — but I was ashamed of 
 my position ; for these are evidently gentlemen, not 
 the Billy Wilson's crew we were threatened with. 
 Fine, noble-looking men they were, showing refine- 
 ment and gentlemanly bearing in every motion. One 
 cannot help but admire such foes! They set us an 
 example worthy of our imitation, and one we would 
 be benefited by following. They come as visitors 
 without either pretensions to superiority, or the in- 
 solence of conquerors; they walk quietly their way, 
 offering no annoyance to the citizens, though they 
 themselves are stared at most unmercifully, and pur- 
 sued by crowds of ragged little boys, while even 
 men gape at them with open mouths. They prove 
 themselves gentlemen, while many of our citizens 
 have proved themselves boors, and I admire them 
 for their conduct. With a conviction that I had al- 
 lowed myself to be influenced by bigoted, narrow- 
 
 29 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 minded people, in believing them to be unworthy of 
 respect or regard, I came home wonderfully changed 
 in all my newly acquired sentiments, resolved never 
 more to wound their feelings, who were so careful 
 of ours, by such unnecessary display. And I hung 
 my flag on the parlor mantel, there to wave, if it 
 will, in the shades of private life ; but to make a show, 
 make me conspicuous and ill at ease, as I was yes- 
 terday, — never again ! 
 
 There was a dozen officers in church this morning, 
 and the psalms for the nth day seemed so singularly 
 appropriate to the feelings of the people, that I felt 
 uncomfortable for them. They answered with us, 
 though. 
 
 May 14th. 
 
 I am beginning to believe that we are even of more 
 importance in Baton Rouge than we thought we 
 were. It is laughable to hear the things a certain 
 set of people, who know they can't visit us, say 
 about the whole family. . . . When father was alive, 
 they dared not talk about us aloud, beyond calling 
 us the "Proud Morgans" and the "Aristocracy of 
 Baton Rouge" . . . But now father is gone, the 
 people imagine we are public property, to be criti- 
 cized, vilified, and abused to their hearts' con- 
 tent. . . . 
 
 And now, because they find absurdities don't suc- 
 ceed, they try improbabilities. So yesterday the 
 town was in a ferment because it was reported the 
 Federal officers had called on the Miss Morgans, and 
 
 30 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 all the gentlemen were anxious to hear how they had 
 been received. One had the grace to say, "If they 
 did, they received the best lesson there that they 
 could get in town ; those young ladies would meet 
 them with the true Southern spirit." The rest did not 
 know; they would like to find out. 
 
 I suppose the story originated from the fact that 
 we were unwilling to blackguard — yes, that is the 
 word — the Federal officers here, and would not 
 agree with many of our friends in saying they were 
 liars, thieves, murderers, scoundrels, the scum of 
 the earth, etc. Such epithets are unworthy of 
 ladies, I say, and do harm, rather than advance our 
 cause. Let them be what they will, it shall not make 
 me less the lady; I say it is unworthy of anything 
 except low newspaper war, such abuse, and I will 
 not join in. 
 
 I have a brother-in-law in the Federal army whom 
 I love and respect as much as any one in the world, 
 and shall not readily agree that his being a North- 
 erner would give him an irresistible desire to pick 
 my pockets, and take from him all power of telling 
 the truth. No! There are few men I admire more 
 than Major Drum, and I honor him for his inde- 
 pendence in doing what he believes right. Let us 
 have liberty of speech and action in our land, I say, 
 but not gross abuse and calumny. Shall I acknowl- 
 edge that the people we so recently called our 
 brothers are unworthy of consideration, and are liars, 
 cowards, dogs? Not I! If they conquer us, I 
 
 3i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 acknowledge them as a superior race ; I will not say 
 that we were conquered by cowards, for where would 
 that place us? It will take a brave people to gain us, 
 and that the Northerners undoubtedly are. I would 
 scorn to have an inferior foe ; I fight only my equals. 
 These women may acknowledge that cowards have 
 won battles in which their brothers were engaged, 
 but I, I will ever say mine fought against brave men, 
 and won the day. Which is most honorable? 
 
 I was never a Secessionist, for I quietly adopted 
 father's views on political subjects without meddling 
 with them. But even father went over with his 
 State, and when so many outrages were committed 
 by the fanatical leaders of the North, though he 
 regretted the Union, said, "Fight to the death for 
 our liberty." I say so, too. I want to fight until we 
 win the cause so many have died for. I don't believe 
 in Secession, but I do in Liberty. I want the South 
 to conquer, dictate its own terms, and go back to 
 the Union, for I believe that, apart, inevitable ruin 
 awaits both. It is a rope of sand, this Confederacy, 
 founded on the doctrine of Secession, and will not 
 last many years — not five. The North Cannot sub- 
 due us. We are too determined to be free. They have 
 no right to confiscate our property to pay debts they 
 themselves have incurred. Death as a nation, rather 
 than Union on such terms. We will have our rights 
 secured on so firm a basis that it can never be shaken. 
 If by power of overwhelming numbers they conquer 
 us, it will be a barren victory over a desolate land. 
 
 32 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 We, the natives of this loved soil, will be beggars in 
 a foreign land; we will not submit to despotism 
 under the garb of Liberty. The North will find 
 herself burdened with an unparalleled debt, with 
 nothing to show for it except deserted towns, 
 burning homes, a standing army which will govern 
 with no small caprice, and an impoverished land. 
 If that be treason, make the best of it! 
 
 May 17th. 
 
 One of these days, when peace is restored and we 
 are quietly settled in our allotted corners of this 
 wide world without any particularly exciting event 
 to alarm us ; and with the knowledge of what is now 
 the future, and will then be the dead past; seeing 
 that all has been for the best for us in the end ; that 
 all has come right in spite of us, we will wonder how 
 we could ever have been foolish enough to await 
 each hour in such breathless anxiety. We will ask 
 ourselves if it was really true that nightly, as we lay 
 down to sleep, we did not dare plan for the morning, 
 feeling that we might be homeless and beggars before 
 the dawn. How unreal it will then seem ! We will say 
 it was our wild imagination, perhaps. But how 
 bitterly, horribly true it is now! 
 
 Four days ago the Yankees left us, to attack 
 Vicksburg, leaving their flag flying in the Garrison 
 without a man to guard it, and with the understand- 
 ing that the town would be held responsible for it. 
 It was intended for a trap; and it succeeded. For 
 
 33 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 night before last, it was pulled down and torn to 
 pieces. 
 
 Now, unless Will will have the kindness to sink 
 a dozen of their ships up there, — I hear he has com- 
 mand of the lower batteries, — they will be back in 
 a few days, and will execute their threat of shelling 
 the town. If they do, what will become of us? All we 
 expect in the way of earthly property is as yet mere 
 paper, which will be so much trash if the South is 
 ruined, as it consists of debts due father by many 
 planters for professional services rendered, who, of 
 course, will be ruined, too, so all money is gone. 
 That is nothing, we will not be ashamed to earn our 
 bread, so let it go. 
 
 But this house is at least a shelter from the weather, 
 all sentiment apart. And our servants, too; how 
 could they manage without us? The Yankees, on 
 the river, and a band of guerrillas in the woods, are 
 equally anxious to precipitate a fight. Between the 
 two fires, what chance for us? It would take only a 
 little while to burn the city over our heads. They say 
 the women and children must be removed, these 
 guerrillas. Where, please? Charlie says we must go 
 to Greenwell. And have this house pillaged? For 
 Butler has decreed that no unoccupied house shall 
 be respected. If we stay through the battle, if the 
 Federals are victorious, we will suffer. For the offi- 
 cers here were reported to have said, "If the people 
 here did not treat them decently, they would know 
 what it was when Billy Wilson's crew arrived. 
 
 34 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 They would give them a lesson!" That select crowd 
 is now in New Orleans. Heaven help us when they 
 reach here! It is in these small cities that the great- 
 est outrages are perpetrated. What are we to do? 
 
 A new proclamation from Butler has just come. It 
 seems that the ladies have an ugly way of gathering 
 their skirts when the Federals pass, to avoid any 
 possible contact. Some even turn up their noses. Un- 
 ladylike, to say the least. But it is, maybe, owing to 
 the odor they have, which is said to be unbearable 
 even at this early season of the year. Butler says, 
 whereas the so-called ladies of New Orleans insult 
 his men and officers, he gives one and all permission 
 to insult any or all who so treat them, then and 
 there, with the assurance that the women will not 
 receive the slightest protection from the Govern- 
 ment, and that the men will all be justified. I did not 
 have time to read it, but repeat it as it was told to 
 me by mother, who is in utter despair at the brutal- 
 ity of the thing. These men our brothers ? Not mine ! 
 Let us hope for the honor of their nation that Butler 
 is not counted among the gentlemen of the land. 
 And so, if any man should fancy he cared to kiss me, 
 he could do so under the pretext that I had pulled 
 my dress from under his feet! That will justify 
 them ! And if we decline their visits, they can insult 
 us under the plea of a prior affront. Oh! Gibbes! 
 George! Jimmy! never did we need your protection 
 as sorely as now. And not to know even whether 
 you are alive ! When Charlie joins the army, we will 
 
 35 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 be defenseless, indeed. Come to my bosom, O my 
 discarded carving-knife, laid aside under the im- 
 pression that these men were gentlemen. We will be 
 close friends once more. And if you must have a 
 sheath, perhaps I may find one for you in the heart 
 of the first man who attempts to Butlerize me. I 
 never dreamed of kissing any man save my father and 
 brothers. And why any one should care to kiss any 
 one else, I fail to understand. And I do not propose 
 to learn to make exceptions. 
 
 Still no word from the boys. We hear that Nor- 
 folk has been evacuated ; but no details. George was 
 there. Gibbes is wherever Johnston is, presumably 
 on the Rappahannock ; but it is more than six weeks 
 since we have heard from either of them, and all 
 communication is cut off. 
 
 May 2 ist. 
 
 I have had such a search for shoes this week that 
 I am disgusted with shopping. I am triumphant 
 now, for after traversing the town in every direction 
 and finding nothing, I finally discovered a pair of 
 boots just made for a little negro to go fishing with, 
 and only an inch and a half too long for me, besides 
 being unbendable; but I seized them with avidity, 
 and the little negro would have been outbid if I had 
 not soon after discovered a pair more seemly, if not 
 more serviceable, which I took without further diffi- 
 culty. Behold my tender feet cased in crocodile skin, 
 patent-leather tipped, low-quarter boy's shoes, 
 No. 2! "What a fall was there, my country," from 
 
 36 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 my pretty English glove-kid, to sabots made of some 
 animal closely connected with the hippopotamus! 
 A dernier ressort, vraiment ! for my choice was that, 
 or cooling my feet on the burning pavement au 
 naturel; I who have such a terror of any one seeing 
 my naked foot ! And this is thanks to war and block- 
 ade! Not a decent shoe in the whole community! 
 N'importe! "Better days are coming, we'll all" — 
 have shoes — after a while — perhaps ! Why did not 
 Mark Tapley leave me a song calculated to keep the 
 spirits up, under depressing circumstances? I need 
 one very much, and have nothing more suggestive 
 than the old Methodist hymn, "Better days are 
 coming, we'll all go right," which I shout so con- 
 stantly, as our prospects darken, that it begins to 
 sound stale. 
 
 May 27th. 
 The cry is " Ho ! for Greenwell ! " Very probably 
 this day week will see us there. I don't want to go. 
 If we were at peace, and were to spend a few months 
 of the warmest season out there, none would be more 
 eager and delighted than I : but to leave our comfort- 
 able home, and all it contains, for a rough pine cot- 
 tage seventeen miles away even from this scanty 
 civilization, is sad. It must be! We are hourly ex- 
 pecting two regiments of Yankees to occupy the Gar- 
 rison, and some fifteen hundred of our men are await- 
 ing them a little way off , so the fight seems inevitable: 
 And we must go, leaving what little has already been 
 spared us to the tender mercies of Northern volun- 
 
 37 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 teers, who, from the specimen of plundering they 
 gave us two weeks ago, will hardly leave us even 
 the shelter of our roof. O my dear Home ! How can 
 I help but cry at leaving you forever? For if this 
 fight occurs, never again shall I pass the threshold 
 of this house, where we have been so happy and 
 sad, the scene of joyous meetings and mournful 
 partings, the place where we greeted each other with 
 glad shouts after even so short a parting, the place 
 where Harry and father kissed us good-bye and 
 never came back again! 
 
 I know what Lavinia has suffered this long year, 
 by what we have suffered these last six weeks. Poor 
 Lavinia, so far away ! How easier poverty, if it must 
 come, would be if we could bear it together ! I won- 
 der if the real fate of the boys, if we ever hear, can be 
 so dreadful as this suspense? Still no news of them. 
 My poor little Jimmy! And think how desperate 
 Gibbes and George will be when they read Butler's 
 proclamation, and they not able to defend us ! Gibbes 
 was in our late victory of Fredericksburg, I know. 
 
 In other days, going to Greenwell was the signal 
 for general noise and confusion. All the boys 
 gathered their guns and fishing-tackle, and thousand 
 and one amusements ; father sent out provisions ; we 
 helped mother pack; Hal and I tumbled over the 
 libraries to lay in a supply of reading material ; and 
 all was bustle until the carriage drove to the door 
 at daylight one morning, and swept us off. It is not 
 so gay this time. I wandered around this morning 
 
 38 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 selecting books alone. We can only take what is 
 necessary, the rest being left to the care of the 
 Northern militia in general. I never knew before how 
 many articles were perfectly "indispensable" to me. 
 This or that little token or keepsake, piles of letters 
 I hate to burn, many dresses, etc., I cannot take 
 conveniently, lie around me, and I hardly know 
 which to choose among them, yet half must be 
 sacrificed ; I can only take one trunk. 
 
 May 30th, Greenwell. 
 
 After all our trials and tribulations, here we are 
 at last, and no limbs lost ! How many weeks ago was 
 it since I wrote here? It seems very long after all 
 these events; let me try to recall them. 
 
 Wednesday the 28th, — a day to be forever re- 
 membered, — as luck would have it, we rose very 
 early, and had breakfast sooner than usual, it would 
 seem for the express design of becoming famished 
 before dinner. I picked up some of my letters and 
 papers and set them where I could find them when- 
 ever we were ready to go to Greenwell, burning a pile 
 of trash and leaving a quantity equally worthless, 
 which were of no value even to myself except from 
 association. I was packing up my traveling-desk 
 with all Harry's little articles that were left to me, 
 and other things, and I was saying to myself that 
 my affairs were in such confusion that if obliged to 
 run unexpectedly I would not know what to save, 
 when I heard Lilly's voice downstairs, crying as she 
 
 39 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ran in — she had been out shopping — " Mr. Castle 
 has killed a Federal officer on a ship, and they are 
 going to shell — " Bang! went a cannon at the word, 
 and that was all our warning. 
 
 Mother had just come in, and was lying down, 
 but sprang to her feet and added her screams to the 
 general confusion. Miriam, who had been searching 
 the libraries, ran up to quiet her; Lilly gathered her 
 children, crying hysterically all the time, and ran to 
 the front door with them as they were ; Lucy saved 
 the baby, naked as she took her from her bath, only 
 throwing a quilt over her. I bethought me of my 
 "running-bag" which I had used on a former case, 
 and in a moment my few precious articles were se- 
 cured under my hoops, and with a sunbonnet on, I 
 stood ready for anything. 
 
 The firing still continued ; they must have fired half 
 a dozen times before we could coax mother off. What 
 awful screams! I had hoped never to hear them 
 again, after Harry died. Charlie had gone to Green- 
 well before daybreak, to prepare the house, so we 
 four women, with all those children and servants, 
 were left to save ourselves. I did not forget my poor 
 little Jimmy ; I caught up his cage and ran down. Just 
 at this moment mother recovered enough to insist 
 on saving father's papers — which was impossible, 
 as she had not an idea of where the important ones 
 were. I heard Miriam plead, argue, insist, command 
 her to run; Lilly shriek, and cry she should go; the 
 children screaming within ; women running by with- 
 
 40 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 out, crying and moaning; but I could not join in. 
 I was going I knew not where; it was impossible to 
 take my bird, for even if I could carry him, he would 
 starve. So I took him out of his cage, kissed his little 
 yellow head, and tossed him up. He gave one feeble 
 little chirp as if to ascertain where to go, and then 
 for the first and last time I cried, laying my head 
 against the gate-post, and with my eyes too dim to 
 see him. Oh, how it hurt me to lose my little bird, 
 one Jimmy had given me, too! 
 
 But the next minute we were all off, in safety. A 
 square from home, I discovered that boy shoes were 
 not the most comfortable things to run in, so I ran 
 back, in spite of cannonading, entreaties, etc., to get 
 another pair. I got home, found an old pair that 
 were by no means respectable, which I seized with- 
 out hesitation ; and being perfectly at ease, thought it 
 would be so nice to save at least Miriam's and my 
 tooth-brushes, so slipped them in my corsets. These 
 in, of course we must have a comb — that was added 
 — then how could we stand the sun without starch 
 to cool our faces? This included the powder-bag; 
 then I must save that beautiful lace collar; and my 
 hair was tumbling down, so in went the tucking- 
 comb and hair-pins with the rest; until, if there 
 had been any one to speculate, they would have 
 wondered a long while at the singular appearance 
 of a girl who is considered as very slight, usually. 
 By this time, Miriam, alarmed for me, returned 
 to find me, though urged by Dr. Castleton not 
 
 4i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to risk her life by attempting it, and we started off 
 together. 
 
 We had hardly gone a square when we decided 
 to return a second time, and get at least a few articles 
 for the children and ourselves, who had nothing 
 except what we happened to have on when the shell- 
 ing commenced. She picked up any little things and 
 threw them to me, while I filled a pillow-case jerked 
 from the bed, and placed my powder and brushes in 
 it with the rest. Before we could leave, mother, 
 alarmed for us both, came to find us, with Tiche. 1 
 All this time they had been shelling, but there was 
 quite a lull when she got there, and she commenced 
 picking up father's papers, vowing all the time she 
 would not leave. Every argument we could use was 
 of no avail, and we were desperate as to what course 
 to pursue, when the shelling recommenced in a few 
 minutes. Then mother recommenced her screaming 
 and was ready to fly anywhere ; and holding her box 
 of papers, with a faint idea of saving something, she 
 picked up two dirty underskirts and an old cloak. 
 
 By dint of Miriam's vehement appeals, aided by 
 a great deal of pulling, we got her down to the back 
 door. We had given our pillow-case to Tiche, who 
 added another bundle and all our silver to it, and had 
 already departed. 
 
 As we stood in the door, four or five shells sailed 
 over our heads at the same time, seeming to make a 
 perfect corkscrew of the air, — for it sounded as 
 
 1 Mrs. Morgan's negro maid, Catiche. 
 42 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 though it went in circles. Miriam cried, "Never 
 mmd the door!" mother screamed anew, and I 
 stayed behind to lock the door, with this new music 
 in my ears. We reached the back gate, that was on 
 the street, when another shell passed us, and Miriam 
 jumped behind the fence for protection. We had 
 only gone half a square when Dr. Castleton begged 
 us to take another street, as they were firing up that 
 one. We took his advice, but found our new street 
 worse than the old, for the shells seemed to whistle 
 their strange songs with redoubled vigor. The height 
 of my ambition was now attained. I had heard 
 Jimmy laugh about the singular sensation produced 
 by the rifled balls spinning around one's head ; and 
 here I heard the same peculiar sound, ran the same 
 risk, and was equal to the rest of the boys, for was 
 I not in the midst of flying shells, in the middle of a 
 bombardment? I think I was rather proud of it. 
 
 We were alone on the road, — all had run away 
 before, — so I thought it was for our especial enter- 
 tainment, this little affair. I cannot remember how 
 long it lasted; I am positive that the clock struck 
 ten before I left home, but I had been up so long, I 
 know not what time it began, though I am told it 
 was between eight and nine. We passed the grave- 
 yard, we did not even stop, and about a mile and a 
 half from home, when mother was perfectly ex- 
 hausted with fatigue and unable to proceed farther, 
 we met a gentleman in a buggy who kindly took 
 charge of her and our bundles. We could have 
 
 43 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 walked miles beyond, then, for as soon as she was 
 safe we felt as though a load had been removed from 
 our shoulders; and after exhorting her not to be 
 uneasy about us, and reminding her we had a pistol 
 and a dagger, — I had secured a "for true" one the 
 day before, fortunately, — she drove off, and we 
 trudged on alone, the only people in sight on foot, 
 though occasionally carriages and buggies would 
 pass, going towards town. One party of gentlemen 
 put their heads out and one said, "There are Judge 
 Morgan's daughters sitting by the road!" — but I 
 observed he did not offer them the slightest assist- 
 ance. However, others were very kind. One I never 
 heard of had volunteered to go for us, and bring us 
 to mother, when she was uneasy about our staying 
 so long, when we went home to get clothes. We heard 
 him ring and knock, but, thinking it must be next 
 door, paid no attention, so he went back and mother 
 came herself. 
 
 We were two miles away when we sat down by the 
 road to rest, and have a laugh. Here were two 
 women married, and able to take care of themselves, 
 flying for their lives and leaving two lorn girls alone 
 on the road, to protect each other! To be sure, 
 neither could help us, and one was not able to walk, 
 and the other had helpless children to save; but it 
 was so funny when we talked about it, and thought 
 how sorry both would be when they regained their 
 reason! While we were yet resting, we saw a cart 
 coming, and, giving up all idea of our walking to 
 
 44 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Greenwell, called the people to stop. To our great 
 delight, it proved to be a cart loaded with Mrs. 
 Brunot's affairs, driven by two of her negroes, who 
 kindly took us up with them, on the top of their lug- 
 gage; and we drove off in state, as much pleased at 
 riding in that novel place as though we were accus- 
 tomed to ride in wheelbarrows. Miriam was in a 
 hollow between a flour barrel and a mattress ; and 
 I at the end, astride, I am afraid, of a tremendous 
 bundle, for my face was down the road and each 
 foot resting very near the sides of the cart. I tried 
 to make a better arrangement, though, after a while. 
 These servants were good enough to lend us their 
 umbrella, without which I am afraid we would have 
 suffered severely, for the day was intensely warm. 
 
 Three miles from town we began to overtake the 
 fugitives. Hundreds of women and children were 
 walking along, some bareheaded, and in all cos- 
 tumes. Little girls of twelve and fourteen were 
 wandering on alone. I called to one I knew, and 
 asked where her mother was; she did n't know; she 
 would walk on until she found out. It seems her 
 mother lost a nursing baby, too, which was not 
 found until ten that night. White and black were all 
 mixed together, and were as confidential as though 
 related. All called to us and asked where we were 
 going, and many we knew laughed at us for riding 
 on a cart; but as they had walked only five miles, I 
 imagined they would like even these poor accom- 
 modations if they were in their reach. 
 
 45 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 The negroes deserve the greatest praise for their 
 conduct. Hundreds were walking with babies or 
 bundles; ask them what they had saved, it was in- 
 variably, "My mistress's clothes, or silver, or baby." 
 Ask what they had for themselves, it was, " Bless 
 your heart, honey, I was glad to get away with mis- 
 tress's things; I did n't think 'bout mine." 
 
 It was a heart-rending scene. Women searching 
 for their babies along the road, where they had been 
 lost; others sitting in the dust crying and wringing 
 their hands ; for by this time we had not an idea but 
 what Baton Rouge was either in ashes, or being 
 plundered, and we had saved nothing. I had one 
 dress, Miriam two, but Tiche had them, and we had 
 lost her before we left home. 
 
 Presently we came on a guerrilla camp. Men and 
 horses were resting on each side of the road, some sick, 
 some moving about carrying water to the women 
 and children, and all looking like a monster barbecue, 
 for as far as the eye could see through the woods, was 
 the same repetition of men and horses. They would 
 ask for the news, and one, drunk with excitement or 
 whiskey, informed us that it was our own fault if we 
 
 had saved nothing, the people must have been 
 
 fools not to have known trouble would come before 
 long, and that it was the fault of the men, who were 
 aware of it, that the women were thus forced to fly. 
 In vain we pleaded that there was no warning, no 
 means of foreseeing this; he cried, " You are ruined; 
 
 so am I; and my brothers, too! And by there 
 
 46 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 is nothing left but to die now, and I'll die ! " " Good ! " 
 I said. "But die fighting for us!" He waved his hand, 
 black with powder, and shouted, "That I will!" 
 after us. That was the only swearing guerrilla we 
 met; the others seemed to have too much respect 
 for us to talk loud. 
 
 Lucy had met us before this; early in the action, 
 Lilly had sent her back to get some baby-clothes, 
 but a shell exploding within a few feet of her, she 
 took alarm, and ran up another road, for three miles, 
 when she cut across the plantations and regained 
 the Green well route. It is fortunate that, without 
 consultation, the thought of running here should 
 
 have seized us all. 
 
 May 31st. 
 
 I was interrupted so frequently yesterday that I 
 know not how I continued to write so much. First, 
 I was sent for, to go to Mrs. Brunot, who had just 
 heard of her son's death, and who was alone with 
 Dena; and some hours after, I was sent for, to see 
 Fanny, now Mrs. Trezevant, who had just come with 
 her husband to bring us news of George. A Mrs. 
 Montgomery, who saw him every day at Norfolk, said 
 Jimmy was with him, and though very sick at first, 
 was now in good health. The first news in all that 
 long time! When the city was evacuated, George 
 went with his regiment seven miles from Richmond, 
 Jimmy to the city itself, as aide to Com. Hollins. 
 This lady brought George's opal ring and diamond 
 pin. Howell andJVTr. Badger, who had just joined the 
 
 47 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 guerrillas as independents, spent the day with me. 
 We were all in such confusion that I felt ashamed : 
 every one as dirty as possible ; I had on the same dress 
 I had escaped in, which, though then perfectly clean, 
 was now rather — dirty. But they knew what a time 
 we had had. 
 
 To return to my journal. 
 
 Lucy met mother some long way ahead of us, 
 whose conscience was already reproaching her for 
 leaving us, and in answer to her "What has become 
 of my poor girls?" ran down the road to find us, for 
 Lucy thinks the world can't keep on moving with- 
 out us. When she met us, she walked by the cart, 
 and it was with difficulty we persuaded her to ride 
 a mile; she said she felt "used" to walking now. 
 About five miles from home, we overtook mother. 
 The gentleman had been obliged to go for his wife, so 
 Mary gave her her seat on the cart, and walked with 
 Lucy three miles beyond, where we heard that Lilly 
 and the children had arrived in a cart, early in the 
 day. All the talk by the roadside was of burning 
 homes, houses knocked to pieces by balls, famine, 
 murder, desolation; so I comforted myself singing, 
 " Better days are coming" and " I hope to die shout- 
 ing, the Lord will provide"; while Lucy toiled 
 through the sun and dust, and answered with a 
 chorus of "I'm a-runnin', a-runnin' up to glo-ry! " 
 
 It was three o'clock when we reached Mr. David's 
 and found Lilly. How warm and tired we were! A 
 hasty meal, which tasted like a feast after our 
 
 48 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 fatigue, gave us fresh strength, and Lilly and 
 Miriam got in an old cart with the children to drive 
 out here, leaving me with mother and Dellie to 
 follow next day. About sunset, Charlie came flying 
 down the road, on his way to town. I decided to go, 
 and after an obstinate debate with mother, in which 
 I am afraid I showed more determination than ami- 
 ability, I wrung a reluctant consent from her, and, 
 promising not to enter if it was being fired or plun- 
 dered, drove off in triumph. It was a desperate enter- 
 prise for a young girl, to enter a town full of soldiers 
 on such an expedition at night ; but I knew Charlie 
 could take care of me, and if he was killed I could 
 take care of myself; so I went. 
 
 It was long after nine when we got there, and my 
 first act was to look around the deserted house. 
 What a scene of confusion! armoirs spread open, 
 with clothes tumbled in every direction, inside and 
 out; ribbons, laces on floors; chairs overturned; my 
 desk wide open covered with letters, trinkets, etc. ; 
 bureau drawers half out, the bed filled with odds 
 and ends of everything. I no longer recognized my 
 little room. On the bolster was a little box, at the 
 sight of which I burst out laughing. Five minutes 
 before the alarm, Miriam had been selecting those 
 articles she meant to take to Greenwell, and, holding 
 up her box, said, "If we were forced to run for our 
 lives without a moment's warning, I 'd risk my life 
 to save this, rather than leave it!" Yet here lay the 
 box, and she was safe at Greenwell ! 
 
 49 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 It took me two hours to pack father's papers, then 
 I packed Miriam's trunk, then some of mother's and 
 mine, listening all the while for a cannon; for men 
 were constantly tramping past the house, and only 
 on condition our guerrillas did not disturb them had 
 they promised not to recommence the shelling. 
 Charlie went out to hear the news, and I packed 
 alone. 
 
 It seems the only thing that saved the town was 
 two gentlemen who rowed out to the ships, and in- 
 formed the illustrious commander that there were no 
 men there to be hurt, and he was only killing women 
 and children. The answer was, "He was sorry he 
 had hurt them; he thought of course the town had 
 been evacuated before the men were fools enough 
 to fire on them, and had only shelled the principal 
 streets to intimidate the people." These streets were 
 the very ones crowded with flying women and child- 
 ren, which they must have seen with their own eyes, 
 for those lying parallel to the river led to the Garrison 
 at one end and the crevasse at the other, which cut 
 off all the lower roads, so that the streets he shelled 
 were the only ones that the women could follow, un- 
 less they wished to be drowned. As for the firing, four 
 guerrillas were rash enough to fire on a yawl which 
 was about to land without a flag of truce, killing 
 one, wounding three, one of whom afterwards died. 
 
 They were the only ones in town, there was not a 
 cannon in our hands, even if a dozen men could be 
 collected, and this cannonading was kept up in return 
 
 50 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 for half a dozen shots from as many rifles, without 
 even a show of resistance after! So ended the mo- 
 mentous shelling of Baton Rouge, during which the 
 valiant Farragut killed one whole woman, wounded 
 three, struck some twenty houses several times 
 apiece, and indirectly caused the death of two little 
 children who were drowned in their flight, one poor 
 little baby that was born in the woods, and several 
 cases of the same kind, besides those who will yet die 
 from the fatigue, as Mrs. W. D. Phillips who had not 
 left her room since January, who was carried out in 
 her nightgown, and is now supposed to be in a dying 
 condition. The man who took mother told us he had 
 taken a dying woman — in the act of expiring — in 
 his buggy, from her bed, and had left her a little 
 way off, where she had probably breathed her last a 
 few moments after. There were many similar cases. 
 Hurrah for the illustrious Farragut, the Woman 
 Killer! ! ! 
 
 It was three o'clock before I left off packing, and 
 took refuge in a tub of cold water, from the dust and 
 heat of the morning. What a luxury the water was! 
 and when I changed my underclothes I felt like a new 
 being. To be sure I pulled off the skin of my heel 
 entirely, where it had been blistered by the walk, 
 dust, sun, etc., but that was a trifle, though still 
 quite sore now. For three hours I dreamed of rifled 
 shells and battles, and at half-past six I was up and 
 at work again. Mother came soon after, and after 
 hard work we got safely off at three, saving nothing 
 
 5i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 but our clothes and silver. All else is gone. It cost 
 me a pang to leave my guitar, and Miriam's piano, 
 but it seems there was no help for it, so I had to 
 submit. 
 
 It was dark night when we reached here. A bright 
 fire was blazing in front, but the house looked so 
 desolate that I wanted to cry. Miriam cried when I 
 told her her piano was left behind. Supper was a 
 new sensation, after having been without anything 
 except a glass of clabber (no saucers) and a piece of 
 bread since half-past six. I laid down on the hard 
 floor to rest my weary bones, thankful that I was so 
 fortunate as to be able to lie down at all. In my 
 dozing state, I heard the wagon come, and Miriam 
 ordering a mattress to be put in the room for me. I 
 could make out, "Very well! you may take that one 
 to Miss Eliza, 1 but the next one shall be brought to 
 Miss Sarah!" Poor Miriam! She is always fighting 
 my battles. She and the servants are always taking 
 my part against the rest of the world. . . . She and 
 Lucy made a bed and rolled me in it with no more 
 questions, and left me with damp eyes at the thought 
 of how good and tender every one is to me. Poor 
 Lucy picked me a dish of blackberries to await my 
 arrival, and I was just as grateful for it, though they 
 were eaten by some one else before I came. 
 
 Early yesterday morning, Miriam, Nettie, and 
 Sophie, who did not then know of their brother's 
 death, went to town in a cart, determined to save 
 
 1 Lilly. 
 
 52 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 some things, Miriam to save her piano. As soon as 
 
 they were halfway, news reached us that any one 
 
 was allowed to enter, but none allowed to leave the 
 
 town, and all vehicles confiscated as soon as they 
 
 reached there. Alarmed for their safety, mother 
 
 started off to find them, and we have heard of none of 
 
 them since. What will happen next? I am not uneasy. 
 
 They dare not harm them. It is glorious to shell a, 
 
 town full of women, but to kill four lone ones is not 
 
 exciting enough. 
 
 June ist, Sunday. 
 
 From the news brought by one or two persons who 
 managed to reach here yesterday, I am more uneasy 
 about mother and the girls. A gentleman tells me 
 that no one is permitted to leave without a pass, 
 and of these, only such as are separated from their 
 families, who may have left before. All families are 
 prohibited to leave, and furniture and other valu- 
 ables also. Here is an agreeable arrangement! I 
 saw the "pass," just such as we give our negroes, 
 signed by a Wisconsin colonel. Think of being obliged 
 to ask permission from some low plowman to go in or 
 out of our own house! Cannon are planted as far 
 out as Colonel Davidson's, six of them at our grave- 
 yard, and one or more on all the other roads. If the 
 guerrillas do not attempt their capture, I shall take 
 it upon myself to suggest it to the very next one I 
 see. Even if they cannot use them, it will frighten 
 the Yankees, who are in a state of constant alarm 
 about them. Their reason for keeping people in 
 
 53 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 town is that they hope they will not be attacked so 
 long as our own friends remain; thereby placing us 
 above themselves in the scale of humanity, since 
 they acknowledge we are not brute enough to kill 
 women and children as they did not hesitate to do. 
 
 Farragut pleads that he could not restrain his 
 men, they were so enraged when the order was once 
 given to fire, and says they would strike a few houses, 
 though he ordered them to fire solely at horses, and 
 the clouds of dust in the street, where guerrillas were 
 supposed to be. The dust was by no means thick 
 enough to conceal that these "guerrillas" were 
 women, carrying babies instead of guns, and the 
 horses were drawing buggies in which many a sick 
 woman was lying. 
 
 A young lady who applied to the Yankee general 
 for a pass to come out here, having doubtless spoken 
 of the number of women here who had fled, and the 
 position of the place, was advised to remain in town 
 and write to the ladies to return immediately, and 
 assure them that they would be respected and pro- 
 tected, etc., but that it was madness to remain at 
 Green well, for a terrific battle would be fought there 
 in a few days, and they would be exposed to the 
 greatest danger. The girl wrote the letter, but, Mr. 
 Fox, we are not quite such fools as to return there 
 to afford you the protection our petticoats would 
 secure to you, thereby preventing you from receiv- 
 ing condign punishment for the injuries and loss of 
 property already inflicted upon us by you. No! we 
 
 54 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 remain here; and if you are not laid low before you 
 pass the Comite Bridge, we can take to the woods 
 again, and camp out, as many a poor woman is doing 
 now, a few miles from town. Many citizens have 
 been arrested, and after being confined a while, and 
 closely questioned, have been released, if the in- 
 formation is satisfactory. A negro man is informing 
 on all cotton burners and violent Secessionists, etc. 
 
 Sunday night. 
 The girls have just got back, riding in a mule 
 team, on top of baggage, but without either mother 
 or any of our affairs. Our condition is perfectly des- 
 perate. Miriam had an interview with General 
 Williams, which was by no means satisfactory. He 
 gave her a pass to leave, and bring us back, for he 
 says there is no safety here for us ; he will restrain his 
 men in town, and protect the women, but once out- 
 side, he will answer neither for his men, nor the 
 women and children. As soon as he gets horses 
 enough, he passes this road, going to Gamp Moore 
 with his cavalry, and then we are in greater danger 
 than ever. Any house shut up shall be occupied by 
 soldiers. Five thousand are there now, five more ex- 
 pected. What shall we do? Mother remained, send- 
 ing Miriam for me, determined to keep us there, 
 rather than sacrifice both our lives and property by 
 remaining here. But then — two weeks from now 
 the yellow fever will break out; mother has the 
 greatest horror of it, and we have never had it ; dying 
 
 55 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 is not much in the present state of our affairs, but 
 the survivor will suffer even more than we do now. If 
 we stay, how shall we live? I have seventeen hun- 
 dred dollars in Confederate notes now in my "run- 
 ning-bag," and three or four in silver. The former 
 will not be received there, the latter might last two 
 days. If we save our house and furniture, it is at the 
 price of starving. I am of opinion that we should 
 send for mother, and with what money we have, make 
 our way somewhere in the interior, to some city 
 where we can communicate with the boys, and be 
 advised by them. This is not living. Home is lost 
 beyond all hope of recovery; if we wait, what we 
 have already saved will go, too; so we had better 
 leave at once, with what clothing we have, which 
 will certainly establish us on the footing of ladies, 
 if we chance to fall among vulgar people who never 
 look beyond. I fear the guerrillas will attack the 
 town to-night; if they do, God help mother! 
 
 General Williams offered Miriam an escort when 
 he found she was without a protector, in the most 
 fatherly way; he must be a good man. She thanked 
 him, but said "she felt perfectly safe on that road." 
 He bit his lip, understanding the allusion, and did not 
 insist. She was to deliver a message from parties in 
 town to the first guerrillas they met, concerning the 
 safest roads, and presently six met them, and en- 
 tered into conversation. She told them of the prof- 
 fered escort, when one sprang forward crying, "Why 
 did n't you accept, Miss? The next time, ask for 
 
 56 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 one, and if it is at all disagreeable to you, / am the 
 
 very man to rid you of such an inconvenience ! I '11 
 
 see that you are not annoyed long." I am glad it was 
 
 not sent ; she would have reproached herself with 
 
 murder forever after. I wonder if the General would 
 
 have risked it? 
 
 Baton Rouge, June 3d. 
 
 Well! Day before yesterday, I almost vowed I 
 would not return, and last evening I reached here. 
 Verily, consistency, thou art a jewel ! I determined 
 to get to town to lay both sides of the question be- 
 fore mother; saving home and property, by remain- 
 ing, thereby cutting ourselves off forever from the 
 boys and dying of yellow fever; or flying to Missis- 
 sippi, losing all save our lives. So as Mrs. Brunot was 
 panic-stricken and determined to die in town ra- 
 ther than be starved at Green well, and was going in 
 on the same wagon that came out the night before, 
 I got up with her and Nettie, and left Greenwell at 
 ten yesterday morning, bringing nothing except this 
 old book, which I would rather not lose, as it has 
 been an old and kind friend during these days of 
 trouble. At first, I avoided all mention of political 
 affairs, but now there is nothing else to be thought 
 of; if it is not burnt for treason, I will like to look it 
 over some day — if I live. I left Greenwell, without 
 ever looking around it, beyond one walk to the 
 hotel, so I may say I hardly know what it looks 
 like. Miriam stayed, much against her will, I fear, 
 to bring in our trunks, if I could send a wagon. 
 
 57 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 A guerrilla picket stopped us before we had gone 
 a mile, and seemed disposed to turn us back. We 
 said we must pass; our all was at stake. They then 
 entreated us not to enter, saying it was not safe. I 
 asked if they meant to burn it; " We will help try it," 
 was the answer. I begged them to delay the experi- 
 ment until we could get away. One waved his hat 
 to me and said he would fight for me. Hope he 
 will — at a distance. They asked if we had no pro- 
 tectors; "None," we said. "Don't go, then"; and 
 they all looked so sorry for us. We said we must; 
 starvation, and another panic awaited us out there, 
 our brothers were fighting, our fathers dead ; we had 
 only our own judgment to rely on, and that told us 
 home was the best place for us; if the town must 
 burn, let us burn in our houses, rather than be mur- 
 dered in the woods. They looked still more sorry, 
 but still begged us not to remain. We would, though, 
 and one young boy called out as we drove off, 
 "What's the name of that young lady who refused 
 the escort?" I told him, and they too expressed the 
 greatest regret that she had not accepted. We met 
 many on the road, nearly all of whom talked to us, 
 and as they were most respectful in their manner 
 (though they saw us in a mule team !) , we gave them 
 all the information we could, which was all news to 
 them, though very little. Such a ride in the hot sun, 
 perched up in the air ! One of the servants remarked, 
 "Miss Sarah ain ' t ashamed to ride in a wagon ! ' ' With 
 truth I replied, "No, I was never so high before." 
 
 58 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Two miles from home we met the first Federal 
 pickets, and then they grew more numerous, until 
 we came on a large camp near our graveyard, filled 
 with soldiers and cannon. From first to last none 
 refrained from laughing at us; not aloud, but they 
 would grin and be inwardly convulsed with laughter 
 as we passed. One laughed so comically that I 
 dropped my veil hastily for fear he would see me 
 smile. I could not help it; if any one smiled at me 
 while I was dying, I believe I would return it. We 
 passed crowds, for it was now five o'clock, and all 
 seemed to be promenading. There were several offi- 
 cers standing at the corner, near our house, who 
 were very much amused at our vehicle. I did not 
 feel like smiling then. After reducing us to riding in 
 a mule team, they were heartless enough to laugh! 
 I forgot them presently, and gave my whole atten- 
 tion to getting out respectably. Now getting in a 
 wagon is bad enough; but getting out — ! I hardly 
 know how I managed it. I had fully three feet to 
 step down before reaching the wheel ; once there, the 
 driver picked me up and set me on the pavement. 
 The net I had gathered my hair in, fell in my descent, 
 and my hair swept down halfway between my knee 
 and ankle in one stream. As I turned to get my little 
 bundle, the officers had moved their position to one 
 directly opposite to me, where they could examine 
 me at leisure. Queens used to ride drawn by oxen 
 hundreds of years ago, so I played this was old times, 
 the mules were oxen, I a queen, and stalked off in a 
 
 59 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 style I am satisfied would have imposed on June 
 herself. When I saw them as I turned, they were 
 perfectly quiet; but Nettie says up to that moment 
 they had been in convulsions of laughter, with their 
 handkerchiefs to their faces. It was not polite ! 
 
 I found mother safe, but the house was in the most 
 horrible confusion. Jimmy's empty cage stood by 
 the door; it had the same effect on me that empty 
 coffins produce on others. Oh, my birdie! At six, I 
 could no longer stand my hunger. I had fasted for 
 twelve hours, with the exception of a mouthful of hoe- 
 cake at eleven ; I that never fasted in my life ! — ex- 
 cept last Ash Wednesday when Lydia and I tried it 
 for breakfast, and got so sick we were glad to atone 
 for it at dinner. So I got a little piece of bread and 
 corn beef from Mrs. Daigre's servant, for there was 
 not a morsel here, and I did not know where or what 
 to buy. Presently some kind friend sent me a great 
 short-cake, a dish of strawberry preserves, and some 
 butter, which I was grateful for, for the fact that 
 the old negro was giving me part of her supper made 
 me rather sparing, though she cried, "Eat it all, 
 honey! I get plenty more!" 
 
 Mother went to Cousin Will's, and I went to Mrs. 
 Brunot's to sleep, and so ended my first day's ride 
 on a mule team. Bah ! A lady can make anything 
 respectable by the way she does it ! What do I care 
 if I had been driving mules? Better that than walk 
 seventeen miles. 
 
 I met Dr. DuChene and Dr. Castleton twice each, 
 60 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 this morning. They were as kind to me as they 
 were to the girls the other day. The latter saved 
 them a disagreeable visit, while here. He and those 
 three were packing some things in the hall, when 
 two officers passed, and prepared to come in, seeing 
 three good-looking girls seemingly alone, for Mir- 
 iam's dress hid Dr. Castleton as he leaned over the 
 box. Just then she moved, the Doctor raised his 
 head, and the officers started back with an "Ah!" 
 of surprise. The Doctor called them as they turned 
 away, and asked for a pass for the young ladies. 
 They came back bowing and smiling, said they would 
 write one in the house, but they were told very 
 dryly that there were no writing accommodations 
 there. They tried the fascinating, and were much 
 mortified by the coldness they met. Dear me! 
 "Why wasn't I born old and ugly?" Suppose I 
 should unconsciously entrap some magnificent Yan- 
 kee ! What an awful thing it would be ! ! 
 
 Sentinels are stationed at every corner; Dr. 
 Castleton piloted me safely through one expedition ; 
 but on the next, we had to part company, and I 
 passed through a crowd of at least fifty, alone. They 
 were playing cards in the ditch, and swearing dread- 
 fully, these pious Yankees; many were marching 
 up and down, some sleeping on the pavement, others 
 ■ — picking odious bugs out of each other's heads ! I 
 thought of the guerrillas, yellow fever, and all, and 
 wished they were all safe at home with their mo- 
 thers and sisters, and we at peace again. 
 
 61 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 What a day I have had ! Here mother and I are 
 alone, not a servant on the lot. We will sleep here 
 to-night, and I know she will be too nervous to let 
 me sleep. The dirt and confusion were extraordinary 
 in the house. I could not stand it, so I applied my- 
 self to making it better. I actually swept two whole 
 rooms ! I ruined my hands at gardening, so it made 
 no difference. I replaced piles of books, crockery, 
 china, that Miriam had left packed for Greenwell; 
 I discovered I could empty a dirty hearth, dust, 
 move heavy weights, make myself generally useful 
 and dirty, and all this is thanks to the Yankees! 
 Poor me! This time last year I thought I would 
 never walk again ! If I am not laid up forever after 
 the fatigue of this last week, I shall always main- 
 tain I have a Constitution. But it all seems nothing 
 in this confusion; everything is almost as bad as 
 ever. Besides that, I have been flying around to get 
 Miriam a wagon. I know she is half distracted at 
 being there alone. Mother chose staying with all 
 its evils. Charlie's life would pay the penalty of a 
 cotton burner if he returned, so Lilly remains at 
 Greenwell with him. We three will get on as best 
 we can here. I wrote to the country to get a wagon, 
 sent a pass from Headquarters, but I will never know 
 if it reached her until I see her in town. I hope it will ; 
 I would be better satisfied with Miriam. 
 
 June 4th. 
 
 Miriam and Mattie drove in, in the little buggy, 
 last evening after sunset, to find out what we 
 
 62 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 were to do. Our condition is desperate. Beauregard 
 is about attacking these Federals. They say he is 
 coming from Corinth, and the fight will be in town. 
 If true, we are lost again. Starvation at Green well, 
 fever and bullets here, will put an end to us soon 
 enough. There is no refuge for us, no one to consult. 
 Brother, whose judgment we rely on as implicitly 
 as we did on father's, we hear has gone to New York ; 
 there is no one to advise or direct us, for, if he is gone, 
 there is no man in Louisiana whose decision I would 
 blindly abide by. Let us stay and die. We can only 
 die once ; we can suffer a thousand deaths with sus- 
 pense and uncertainty ; the shortest is the best. Do 
 you think the few words here can give an idea of our 
 agony and despair? Nothing can express it. I feel 
 a thousand years old to-day. I have shed the bitter- 
 est tears to-day that I have shed since father died. 
 I can't stand it much longer; I '11 give way presently, 
 and I know my heart will break. Shame ! Where is 
 God? A fig for your religion, if it only lasts while 
 the sun shines! "Better days are coming" — I 
 can't! 
 
 Troops are constantly passing and repassing. 
 They have scoured the country for ten miles out, 
 in search of guerrillas. We are here without servants, 
 clothing, or the bare necessaries of life : suppose they 
 should seize them on the way ! I procured a pass for 
 the wagon, but it now seems doubtful if I can get 
 the latter — a very faint chance. Well ! let them go ; 
 our home next; then we can die sure enough. With 
 
 63 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 God's help, I can stand anything yet in store for me. 
 "I hope to die shouting, the Lord will provide!" 
 Poor Lavinia ! if she could only see us ! I am glad she 
 does not know our condition. 
 
 5 p.m. 
 
 What a day of agony, doubt, uncertainty, and 
 despair ! Heaven save me from another such ! Every 
 hour fresh difficulties arose, until I believe we were 
 almost crazy, every one of us. 
 
 As Miriam was about stepping in the buggy, to go 
 to Greenwell to bring in our trunks, mother's heart 
 misgave her, and she decided to sacrifice her property 
 rather than remain in this state any longer. After 
 a desperate discussion which proved that each argu- 
 ment was death, she decided to go back to Green- 
 well and give up the keys of the house to General 
 Williams, and let him do as he pleased, rather than 
 have it broken open during her absence. Mattie and 
 Mr. Tunnard were present at the discussion, which 
 ended by the latter stepping in the buggy and driv- 
 ing Miriam to the Garrison. General Williams called 
 her by name, and asked her about Major Drum. It 
 seems all these people, native and foreign, know us, 
 while we know none. Miriam told him our condi- 
 tion, how our brothers were away, father dead, and 
 mother afraid to remain, yet unwilling to lose her 
 property by going away; how we three were alone 
 and unprotected here, but would remain rather than 
 have our home confiscated. He assured her the house 
 should not be touched, that it would be respected 
 
 64 
 
MIRIAM MORGAN 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 in our absence as though we were in it, and he would 
 place a sentinel at the door to guard it against his 
 own men who might be disposed to enter. The latter 
 she declined, but he said he would send his aide to 
 mark the house, that it might be known. A moment 
 after they got back, the aide, Mr. Biddle (I have his 
 name to so many passes that I know it now), came 
 to the door. Mr. Tunnard left him there, uncertain 
 how we would receive a Christian, and I went out 
 and asked him in. He looked uncertain of his recep- 
 tion, too, when we put an end to his doubt by treat- 
 ing him as we invariably treat gentlemen who appear 
 such. He behaved remarkably well under the try- 
 ing circumstances, and insisted on a sentinel; for, 
 he said, though they would respect the property, 
 there were many bad characters among the soldiers 
 who might attempt to rob it, and the sentinel would 
 protect it. After a visit of ten minutes, devoted ex- 
 clusively to the affair, he arose and took his leave, 
 leaving me under the impression that he was a gen- 
 tleman wherever he came from, even if there were 
 a few grammatical errors in the pass he wrote me 
 yesterday; but "thou that judgest another, dost 
 thou sin?" 
 
 Well, now we say, fly to Greenwell. Yes! and by 
 to-night, a most exaggerated account of the whole 
 affair will be spread over the whole country, and we 
 will be equally suspected by our own people. Those 
 who spread useless falsehoods about us will gladly 
 have a foundation for a monstrous one. Did n't 
 
 65 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Camp Moore ring with the story of our entertaining 
 the Federal officers? Did n't they spread the report 
 that Miriam danced with one to the tune of "Yan- 
 kee Doodle" in the State House garden? What will 
 they stop at now? O! if I was only a man, and knew 
 what to do ! 
 
 Night. 
 
 We were so distressed by the false position in 
 which we would be placed by a Federal sentinel, 
 that we did not know what course to pursue. As all 
 our friends shook their heads and said it was danger- 
 ous, we knew full well what our enemies would say. 
 If we win Baton Rouge, as I pray we will, they will 
 say we asked protection from Yankees against our 
 own men, are consequently traitors, and our prop- 
 erty will be confiscated by our own Government. 
 To decline General Williams's kind offer exposes the 
 house to being plundered. In our dilemma, we made 
 up our minds to stay, so we could say the sentinel 
 was unnecessary. 
 
 Presently a file of six soldiers marched to the gate, 
 an officer came to the steps and introduced himself as 
 Colonel McMillan, of 21st Indiana Volunteers. He 
 asked if this was Mrs. Morgan's; the General had 
 ordered a guard placed around the house ; he would 
 suggest placing them in different parts of the yard. 
 "Madam, the pickets await your orders." Miriam 
 in a desperate fright undertook to speak for mother, 
 and asked if he thought there was any necessity. 
 No, but it was an additional security, he said. 
 
 66 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 "Then, if no actual necessity, we will relieve you of 
 the disagreeable duty, as we expect to remain in 
 town," she said. He was very kind, and discussed the 
 whole affair with us, saying when we made up our 
 minds to leave, — we told him after we could not 
 decide, — to write him word, and he would place 
 a guard around to prevent his men and the negroes 
 from breaking in. It was a singular situation: our 
 brothers off fighting them, while these Federal officers 
 leaned over our fence, and an officer standing on our 
 steps offered to protect us. These people are cer- 
 tainly very kind to us. General Williams especially 
 must be a dear old gentleman; he is so good. 
 
 How many good, and how many mean people 
 these troubles have shown us! I am beginning to 
 see my true friends, now ; there is a large number of 
 them, too. Everybody from whom we least expected 
 attention has agreeably surprised us. . . . 
 
 General Williams will believe we are insane from 
 
 our changing so often. 
 
 His guard positively refused. 
 
 June 5th. 
 
 Last night I determined to stay. Miriam went 
 after our trunks at daylight. A few hours after, 
 Lilly wrote we must go back. McClellan's army 
 was cut to pieces and driven back to Maryland, 
 by Jackson; the Federals were being driven into 
 the swamp from Richmond, too. Beauregard is un- 
 doubtedly coming to attack Baton Rouge; his fire 
 would burn the town, if the gunboats do not; the 
 
 67 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Yankees will shell, at all events, if forced to retire. 
 It cannot stand. We can't go to New Orleans. Butler 
 says he will lay it in ashes if he is forced to evacuate 
 it, from yellow fever or other causes. Both must be 
 burned. Green well is not worth the powder it would 
 cost, so we must stand the chance of murder and 
 starvation there, rather than the certainty of being 
 placed between two fires here. Well, I see nothing 
 but bloodshed and beggary staring us in the face. 
 Let it come. "I hope to die shouting, the Lord 
 will provide." 
 
 June 6th. 
 
 We dined at Mrs. Brunot's yesterday, and sitting 
 on the gallery later, had the full benefit of a Yankee 
 drill. They stopped in front of the house and went 
 through some very curious manoeuvres, and then 
 marched out to their drill-ground beyond. In re- 
 turning, the whole regiment drew up directly before 
 us, and we were dreadfully quiet for five minutes, 
 the most uncomfortable I have experienced for some 
 time. For it was absurd to look at the sky, and I 
 looked in vain for one man with downcast eyes 
 whereon I might rest mine; but from the officers 
 down to the last private, they were all looking at us. 
 I believe I would have cried with embarrassment if 
 the command had not been given at that moment. 
 They drilled splendidly, and knew it, too, so went 
 through it as though they had not been at it for an 
 hour before. One conceited, red-headed lieutenant 
 smiled at us in the most fascinating way; perhaps he 
 
 68 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 smiled to think how fine he was, and what an impres- 
 sion he was making. 
 
 We got back to our solitary house before twilight, 
 and were sitting on the balcony, when Mr. Biddle 
 entered. He came to ask if the guard had been 
 placed here last night. It seems to me it would have 
 saved him such a long walk if he had asked Colonel 
 McMillan. He sat down, though, and got talking in 
 the moonlight, and people passing, some citizens, 
 some officers, looked wonderingly at this unheard-of 
 occurrence. I won't be rude to any one in my own 
 house, Yankee or Southern, say what they will. He 
 talked a great deal, and was very entertaining; what 
 tempted him, I cannot imagine. It was two hours 
 before he thought of leaving. He was certainly very 
 kind. He spoke of the scarcity of flour in town ; said 
 they had quantities at the Garrison , and asked permis- 
 sion to send us a barrel, which of course we refused. 
 It showed a very good heart, though. He offered to 
 take charge of any letters I would write ; said he had 
 heard General Williams speak of Harry ; and when he 
 at last left, I was still more pleased with him for 
 this kindness to us. He says Captain Huger is dead. 
 I am very, very much distressed. They are related, 
 he says. He talked so reasonably of the war, that it 
 was quite a novelty after reading the abusive news- 
 papers of both sides. I like him, and was sorry I could 
 not ask him to repeat his visit. We are unaccustomed 
 to treat gentlemen that way; but it won't do in the 
 present state to act as we please. Mob governs. 
 
 69 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Mother kept me awake all night to listen to the 
 mice in the garret. Every time I would doze she 
 would ask, "What's that?" and insist that the mice 
 were men. I had to get up and look for an imaginary 
 host, so I am tired enough this morning. 
 
 Miriam has just got in with all the servants, our 
 baggage is on the way, so we will be obliged to stay 
 whether we will or no. I don't care ; it is all the same, 
 starve or burn. Oh! I forgot. Mr. Biddle did not 
 write that pass! It was his clerk. He speaks very 
 grammatically, so far as I can judge! ! 
 
 June 8th, Sunday. 
 These people mean to kill us with kindness. 
 There is such a thing as being too kind. Yesterday 
 General Williams sent a barrel of flour to mother, 
 accompanied by a note begging her to accept it 
 " in consideration of the present condition of the cir- 
 culating currency," and the intention was so kind, 
 the way it was done so delicate, that there was no 
 refusing it. I had to write her thanks, and got in a 
 violent fit of the "trembles" at the idea of writing 
 to a stranger. One consolation is, that I am not a 
 very big fool, for it took only three lines to prove 
 myself one. If I had been a thundering big one, I 
 would have occupied two pages to show myself fully. 
 And to think it is out of our power to prove them 
 our appreciation of the kindness we have universally 
 met with ! Many officers were in church this morning, 
 and as they passed us while we waited for the door 
 
 70 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to be opened, General Williams bowed profoundly, 
 another followed his example; we returned the sa- 
 lute, of course. But by to-morrow, those he did not 
 bow to will cry treason against us. Let them howl. 
 I am tired of lies, scandal, and deceit. All the loudest 
 gossips have been frightened into the country, but 
 enough remain to keep them well supplied with town 
 talk. ... It is such a consolation to turn to the dear 
 good people of the world after coming in contact 
 with such cattle. Here, for instance, is Mr. Bonne- 
 case on whom we have not the slightest claims. 
 Every day since we have been here, he has sent a 
 great pitcher of milk, knowing our cow is out; one 
 day he sent rice, the next sardines, yesterday two 
 bottles of Port and Madeira, which cannot be pur- 
 chased in the whole South. What a duck of an old 
 
 man! That is only one instance. 
 
 June ioth. 
 
 This morning while I was attending to my flowers 
 . . . several soldiers stopped in front of me, and 
 holding on the fence, commenced to talk about some 
 brave Colonel, and a shooting affair last night. When 
 all had gone except one who was watching me at- 
 tentively, as he seemed to wish to tell me, I let him 
 go ahead. The story was that Colonel McMillan 
 was shot through the shoulder, breast, and liver, 
 by three guerrillas while four miles from town last 
 night, on a scout. He was a quarter of a mile from his 
 own men at the time, killed one who shot him, took 
 the other two prisoners, and fell from his horse him- 
 
 7i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 self, when he got within the lines. The soldier said 
 these two guerrillas would probably be hanged, while 
 the six we saw pass captives, Sunday, would prob- 
 ably be sent to Fort Jackson for life. I think the 
 guerrilla affair mere murder, I confess; but what a 
 dreadful fate for these young men ! One who passed 
 Sunday was Jimmy's schoolmate, a boy of sixteen; 
 another, Willie Garig, the pet of a whole family of 
 good, honest country people. . . . 
 
 These soldiers will get in the habit of talking to 
 me after a while, through my own fault. Yesterday 
 I could not resist the temptation to ask the fate of 
 the six guerrillas, and stopped two volunteers who 
 were going by, to ask them. They discussed the fate 
 of the country, told me Fort Pillow and Vicksburg 
 were evacuated, the Mississippi opened from source 
 to mouth; I told them of Banks's and McClellan's 
 defeat; they assured me it would all be over in a 
 month, — which I fervently pray may be so; told 
 me they were from Michigan (one was Mr. Bee, he 
 said, cousin of our General); and they would prob- 
 ably have talked all day if I had not bowed myself 
 away with thanks for their information. 
 
 It made me ashamed to contrast the quiet, gentle- 
 manly, liberal way these volunteers spoke of us and 
 our cause, with the rabid, fanatical, abusive violence 
 of our own female Secession declaimers. Thank 
 Heaven, I have never yet made my appearance as a 
 Billingsgate orator on these occasions. All my vio- 
 lent feelings, which in moments of intense excitement 
 
 72 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 were really violent, I have recorded in this book; I 
 am happy to say only the reasonable dislike to seeing 
 my country subjugated has been confided to the 
 public ear, when necessary; and that even now, I 
 confess that nothing but the reign of terror and gross 
 prejudice by which I was surrounded at that time 
 could justify many expressions I have here applied 
 to them. Fact is, these people have disarmed me by 
 their kindness. I expected to be in a crowd of ruf- 
 fian soldiers, who would think nothing of cutting 
 your throat or doing anything they felt like; and I 
 find, among all these thousands, not one who offers 
 the slightest annoyance or disrespect. The former is 
 the thing as it is believed by the whole country, the 
 latter the true state of affairs. I admire foes who 
 show so much consideration for our feelings. 
 
 Contrast these with our volunteers from New Or- 
 leans — all gentlemen — who came to take the Gar- 
 rison from Major Haskins. Several of them passing 
 our gate where we were standing with the Brunots, 
 one exclaimed, "What pretty girls!" It was a stage 
 aside that we were supposed not to hear. "Yes," 
 said another; "beautiful! but they look as though 
 they could be fast." Fast! and we were not even 
 speaking! not even looking at them! Sophie and I 
 were walking presently, and met half a dozen. We 
 had to stop to let them pass the crossing; they did 
 not think of making way for us; No. I sighed — 
 such a sigh! No. 2 followed, and so on, when they 
 all sighed in chorus for our edification, while we 
 
 73 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 dared not raise our eyes from the ground. That is 
 the time I would have made use of a dagger. Two 
 passed in a buggy, and trusting to our not recog- 
 nizing them from the rapidity of their vehicle, kissed 
 their hands to us until they were out of sight! All 
 went back to New Orleans vowing Baton Rouge had 
 the prettiest girls in the world. These were our own 
 people, the elite of New Orleans, loyal Southerners 
 and gentlemen. These Northerners pass us satisfied 
 with a simple glance; some take off their hats, for all 
 these officers know our name, though we may not 
 know theirs; how, I can't say. 
 
 When I heard of Colonel McMillan's misfortune, 
 mother conspired with me to send over some band- 
 ages, and something Tiche manufactured of flour 
 under the name of "nourishment," for he is across 
 the street at Heroman's. Miriam objected on ac- 
 count of what "our people" will say, and what we 
 will suffer for it if the guerrillas reach town, but we 
 persuaded her we were right. . . . You can imagine 
 our condition at present, many years hence, Sarah, 
 when you reflect that it is the brave, noble-hearted, 
 generous Miriam who is afraid to do that deed on ac- 
 count of "public opinion," which indeed is "down" 
 on us. At Greenwell they are frantic about our re- 
 turning to town, and call us traitors, Yankees, and 
 vow vengeance. ... A lady said to me, "The guer- 
 rillas have a black list containing the names of those 
 remaining in town. All the men are to be hanged, 
 their houses burned, and all the women are to be 
 
 74 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tarred and feathered." I said, " Madam, if I believed 
 them capable of such a vile threat, even, much less 
 the execution, I would see them cut down without a 
 feeling of compassion" (which is not true), "and 
 swear I was a Yankee rather than claim being a 
 native of the same country with such brutes." She 
 has a long tongue ; when I next hear of it, it will be 
 that / told the story, and called them brutes and 
 hoped they would be shot, etc. And so goes the 
 world. No one will think of saying that I did not 
 believe them guilty of the thought, even. Our three 
 brothers may be sick or wounded at this minute; 
 what I do for this man, God will send some one to 
 do for them, and with that belief I do it. . . . 
 
 June nth. 
 Last evening mother and Miriam went to the 
 Arsenal to see if they would be allowed to do any- 
 thing for the prisoners. General Williams received 
 them, and fascinated Miriam by his manner, as 
 usual. Poor Miriam is always being fascinated, ac- 
 cording to her own account. He sent for little Nathan 
 Castle and Willie Garig, and left them alone in the 
 room with them, showing his confidence and delicacy 
 by walking away. The poor young men were very 
 grateful to be remembered ; one had his eyes too full 
 of tears to speak. Mr. Garig told Miriam that when 
 the story of her refusing the escort was told in camp, 
 the woods rang with shouts of "Three cheers for 
 Miss Morgan!" They said they were treated very 
 
 75 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 well, and had no want, except clean clothes, and to 
 let their mothers know they were well and content. 
 I have been hard at work mending three or four 
 suits of the boys' clothing for those poor young men. 
 Some needed thread and needle very much, but it 
 was the best we could do. So I packed them all up 
 — not forgetting a row of pins — and sent Tiche off 
 with the bundle, perched real Congo fashion on her 
 many-colored head-handkerchief, which was tied in 
 the most superb Creole style in honor of the occa- 
 sion. 
 
 June 1 6th, Monday. 
 
 My poor old diary comes to a very abrupt end, to 
 my great distress. The hardest thing in the world is 
 to break off journalizing when you are once accus- 
 tomed to it, and mine has proved such a resource to 
 me in these dark days of trouble that I feel as though 
 I were saying good-bye to an old and tried friend. 
 Thanks to my liberal supply of pens, ink, and paper, 
 how many inexpressibly dreary days I have filled 
 up to my own satisfaction, if not to that of others! 
 How many disagreeable affairs it has caused me to 
 pass over without another thought, how many times 
 it has proved a relief to me where my tongue was 
 forced to remain quiet! Without the blessed mate- 
 rials, I would have fallen victim to despair and "the 
 Blues" long since; but they have kept my eyes fixed 
 on "Better days a-coming" while slightly alluding 
 to present woes ; kept me from making a fool of my- 
 self many a day ; acted as lightning rod to my mental 
 
 76 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 thunder, and have made me happy generally. For 
 all of which I cry, " Vivent pen, ink, and paper ! " and 
 add with regret, "Adieu, my mental Conductor. I 
 fear this unchained lightning will strike somewhere, 
 in your absence!" 
 
BOOK II 
 
 "I hope to die shouting, the Lord will provide!" 
 
 Monday, June 16th, 1862. 
 There is no use in trying to break off journalizing, 
 particularly in "these trying times." It has become 
 a necessity to me. I believe I should go off in a rapid 
 decline if Butler took it in his head to prohibit that 
 among other things. ... I reserve to myself the 
 privilege of writing my opinions, since I trouble no 
 one with the expression of them. ... I insist, that if 
 the valor and chivalry of our men cannot save our 
 country, I would rather have it conquered by a brave 
 race than owe its liberty to the Billingsgate oratory 
 and demonstrations of some of these ' ' ladies. ' ' I f the 
 women have the upper hand then, as they have now, 
 I would not like to live in a country governed by 
 such tongues. Do I consider the female who could 
 spit in a gentleman's face, merely because he wore 
 United States buttons, as a fit associate for me? 
 Lieutenant Biddle assured me he did not pass a street 
 in New Orleans without being most grossly insulted 
 by ladies. It was a friend of his into whose face a 
 lady spit as he walked quietly by without looking at 
 her. (Wonder if she did it to attract his attention?) 
 He had the sense to apply to her husband and give 
 him two minutes to apologize or die, and of course he 
 
 78 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 chose the former. 1 Such things are enough to disgust 
 any one. "Loud" women, what a contempt I have 
 for you ! How I despise your vulgarity ! 
 
 Some of these Ultra-Secessionists, evidently very 
 recently from "down East," who think themselves 
 obliged to "kick up their heels over the Bonny Blue 
 Flag," as Brother describes female patriotism, shriek 
 out, "What! see those vile Northerners pass pa- 
 tiently! No true Southerner could see it without 
 rage. I could kill them! I hate them with all my 
 soul, the murderers, liars, thieves, rascals! You are 
 no Southerner if you do not hate them as much as 
 I!" Ah qcl! a true-blue Yankee tell me that I, born 
 and bred here, am no Southerner! I always think, 
 "It is well for you, my friend, to save your credit, 
 else you might be suspected by some people, though 
 your violence is enough for me." I always say, " You 
 may do as you please; my brothers are fighting for 
 me, and doing their duty, so that excess of patriot- 
 ism is unnecessary for me, as my position is too well 
 known to make any demonstrations requisite." 
 
 This war has brought out wicked, malignant feel- 
 ings that I did not believe could dwell in woman's 
 heart. I see some of the holiest eyes, so holy one 
 would think the very spirit of charity lived in them, 
 and all Christian meekness, go off in a mad tirade 
 of abuse and say, with the holy eyes wondrously 
 
 1 This passage was later annotated by Mrs. Dawson as follows: 
 " Friend (Farragut). Lady (I know her, alas!). Husband (She had 
 none!)." 
 
 79 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 changed, " I hope God will send down plague, yellow 
 fever, famine, on these vile Yankees, and that not 
 one will escape death." O, what unutterable horror 
 that remark causes me as often as I hear it ! I think 
 of the many mothers, wives, and sisters who wait as 
 anxiously, pray as fervently in their faraway homes 
 for their dear ones, as we do here ; I fancy them wait- 
 ing day after day for the footsteps that will never 
 come, growing more sad, lonely, and heart-broken 
 as the days wear on ; I think of how awful it would be 
 if one would say, "Your brothers are dead"; how 
 it would crush all life and happiness out of me; and 
 I say, "God forgive these poor women! They know 
 not what they say!" O women! into what loath- 
 some violence you have abased your holy mission ! 
 God will punish us for our hard-heartedness. Not a 
 square off, in the new theatre, lie more than a hun- 
 dred sick soldiers. What woman has stretched out 
 her hand to save them, to give them a cup of cold 
 water? Where is the charity which should ignore na- 
 tions and creeds, and administer help to the Indian 
 and -Heathen indifferently? Gone ! All gone in Union 
 versus Secession ! That is what the American War 
 has brought us. If I was independent, if I could work 
 my own will without causing others to suffer for my 
 deeds, I would not be poring over this stupid page; 
 I would not be idly reading or sewing. I would put 
 aside woman's trash, take up woman's duty, and 
 I would stand by some forsaken man and bid him 
 Godspeed as he closes his dying eyes. That is 
 
 80 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 woman's mission ! and not Preaching and Politics. I 
 say I would, yet here I sit! O for liberty! the liberty 
 that dares do what conscience dictates, and scorns 
 all smaller rules ! If I could help these dying men ! 
 Yet it is as impossible as though I was a chained 
 bear. I can't put out my hand. I am threatened with 
 Coventry because I sent a custard to a sick man who 
 is in the army, and with the anathema of society 
 because I said if I could possibly do anything for 
 Mr. Biddle — at a distance — (he is sick) I would 
 like to very much. Charlie thinks we have acted 
 shockingly in helping Colonel McMillan, and that 
 we will suffer for it when the Federals leave. I would 
 like to see any man who dared harm my father's 
 daughter! But as he seems to think our conduct re- 
 flects on him, there is no alternative. Die, poor men, 
 without a woman's hand to close your eyes! We 
 women are too patriotic to help you ! I look eagerly 
 on, cry in my soul, " I wish — " ; you die; God judges 
 me. Behold the woman who dares not risk private 
 ties for God's glory and her professed religion! 
 Coward, helpless woman that I am! If I was free — ! 
 
 June 17th. 
 Yesterday, and day before, boats were constantly 
 arriving and troops embarking from here, destined 
 for Vicksburg. There will be another fight, and of 
 course it will fall. I wish Will was out of it; I don't 
 want him to die. I got the kindest, sweetest letter 
 from Will when Miriam came from Greenwell. It 
 
 81 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 was given to her by a guerrilla on the road who asked 
 if she was not Miss Sarah Morgan. 
 
 June 1 8th. 
 
 How long, O how long, is it since I have lain down 
 in peace, thinking, "This night I will rest in safety" ? 
 Certainly not since the fall of Fort Jackson. If left 
 to myself, I would not anticipate evil, but would 
 quietly await the issue of all these dreadful events ; 
 but when I hear men, who certainly should know 
 better than I, express their belief that in twenty-four 
 hours the town will be laid in ashes, I begin to grow 
 uneasy, and think it must be so, since they say it. 
 These last few days, since the news arrived of the 
 intervention of the English and French, I have alter- 
 nately risen and fallen from the depth of despair to 
 the height of delight and expectation, as the proba- 
 bility of another exodus diminishes, and peace ap- 
 pears more probable. If these men would not 
 prophesy the burning of the city, I would be per- 
 fectly satisfied. . . . 
 
 Well ! I packed up a few articles to satisfy my con- 
 science, since these men insist that another run is 
 inevitable, though against my own conviction. I 
 am afraid I was partly influenced by my dream last 
 night of being shelled out unexpectedly and flying 
 without saving an article. It was the same dream I 
 had a night or two before we fled so ingloriously 
 from Baton Rouge, when I dreamed of meeting Will 
 Pinckney suddenly, who greeted me in the most 
 extraordinarily affectionate manner, and told me 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that Vicksburg had fallen. He said he had been 
 chiefly to blame, and the Southerners were so incensed 
 at his losing, the Northerners at his defending, that 
 both were determined to hang him; he was running 
 for his life. He took me to a hill from which I could 
 see the Garrison, and the American flag flying over 
 it. I looked, and saw we were standing in blood up 
 to our knees, while here and there ghastly white 
 bones shone above the red surface. Just then, below 
 me I saw crowds of people running. "What is it?" 
 I asked. "It means that in another instant they will 
 commence to shell the town. Save yourself." "But 
 Will — I must save some clothes, too ! How can I go 
 among strangers with a single dress ? I will get some ! ' ' 
 I cried. He smiled and said, "You will run with 
 only what articles you happen to have on." Bang! 
 went the first shell, the people rushed by with 
 screams, and I awakened to tell Miriam what an 
 absurd dream I had had. It happened as Will had 
 said, either that same day or the day after; for the 
 change of clothes we saved apiece were given to 
 Tiche, who lost sight of us and quietly came home 
 when all was over, and the two dirty skirts and old 
 cloak mother saved, after carrying them a mile and 
 a half, I put in the buggy that took her up ; so I saved 
 nothing except the bag that was tied under my hoops. 
 Will was right. I saved not even my powder-bag. 
 (Tiche had it in the bundle.) My handkerchief I 
 gave mother before we had walked three squares, 
 and throughout that long fearfully warm day, riding 
 
 83 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and walking through the fiery sunshine and stifling 
 dust, I had neither to cool or comfort me. 
 
 June 19th. 
 Miriam and I have disgraced ourselves! This 
 morning I was quietly hearing Dellie's lessons, when 
 I was startled by mother's shrieks of "Send for a 
 guard — they ' ve murdered him ! " I saw through the 
 window a soldier sitting in the road just opposite, 
 with blood streaming from his hand in a great pool 
 in the dust. I was downstairs in three bounds, and, 
 snatching up some water, ran to where he sat alone, 
 not a creature near, though all the inhabitants of our 
 side of the street were looking on from the balconies, 
 all crying "Murder!" and "Help!" without moving 
 themselves. I poured some water on the man's 
 bloody hand, as he held it streaming with gore up to 
 me, saying, "The man in there did it," meaning the 
 one who keeps the little grog-shop, though it puzzled 
 me at the time to see that all the doors were closed 
 and not a face visible. I had hardly time to speak 
 when Tiche called loudly to me to come away, — 
 she was safe at the front gate, — and looking up, I 
 found myself in a knot of a dozen soldiers, and took 
 her advice and retreated home. It proved to be the 
 guard Miriam had roused. She ran out as I did, 
 and seeing a gentleman, begged him to call the guard 
 for that murdered man. The individual — he must 
 have been a "patriot " — said he did n't know where 
 to find one. She cried out they were at Heroman's; 
 
 84 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 he said he didn't believe they were. "Go! I tell 
 you!" she screamed at last; but the brave man said 
 he did n't like to, so she ran to the corner and called 
 the soldiers herself. O most brave man ! Before we 
 got back from our several expeditions, we heard 
 mother, Lilly, Mrs. Day, all shouting, "Bring in the 
 children ! lock the doors ! ' ' etc. All for a poor wounded 
 soldier! 
 
 We after discovered that the man was drunk, and 
 had cursed the woman of the grog-shop, whereupon 
 her husband had pitched him out in the street, where 
 they found him. They say he hurt his hand against 
 a post; but wood could never have cut deep enough 
 to shed all that gore. I don't care if he was drunk or 
 sober, soldier or officer, Federal or Confederate! If 
 he had been Satan himself lying helpless and bleed- 
 ing in the street, I would have gone to him! I can't 
 believe it was as criminal as though I had watched 
 quietly from a distance, believing him dying and 
 contenting myself with looking on. Yet it seems it 
 was dreadfully indecorous; Miriam and I did very 
 wrong; we should have shouted murder with the rest 
 of the women and servants. Whereas the man who 
 declined committing himself by calling one soldier 
 to the rescue of another, supposed to be dying, acted 
 most discreetly, and showed his wisdom in the most 
 striking manner. 
 
 May I never be discreet, or wise, if this is Chris- 
 tian conduct, or a sample of either ! I would rather 
 be a rash, impetuous fool ! Charlie says he would not 
 
 85 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 open his mouth to save a dozen from being murdered. 
 I say I am not Stoic enough for that. Lilly agrees 
 with him, Miriam with me; so here we two culprits 
 stand alone before the tribunal of "patriotism." 
 Madame Roland, I take the liberty of altering your 
 words and cry, "0 Patriotism! How many base 
 deeds are sanctioned by your name!" Don't I 
 wish I was a heathen! In twenty-four hours the 
 whole country will be down on us. 
 
 O for a pen to paint the slaves 
 
 Whose "country" like a deadly blightj 
 
 Closes all hearts when Pity craves 
 
 And turns God's spirit to darkest night! 
 
 May life's patriotic cup for such 
 
 Be filled with glory overmuch ; 
 And when their spirits go above in pride, 
 
 Spirit of Patriotism, let these valiant abide 
 Full in the sight of grand mass-meeting — I don't 
 
 Want you to cuss them, 
 But put them where they can hear politics, 
 
 And yet can't discuss them! 
 
 (I can't say worse than that!) 
 
 June 26th. 
 
 Yesterday morning, just as I stepped out of bed 
 I heard the report of four cannon fired in rapid suc- 
 cession, and everybody asked everybody else, "Did 
 you hear that?" so significantly, that I must say my 
 heart beat very rapidly for a few moments, at the 
 thought of another stampede. At half-past six this 
 morning I was wakened by another report, followed 
 by seven others, and heard again the question, " Did 
 you hear that?" on a higher key than yesterday. — 
 
 86 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 It did not take me many minutes to get out of bed, 
 and to slip on a few articles, I confess. My chief de- 
 sire was to wash my face before running, if they were 
 actually shelling us again. It appears that they were 
 only practicing, however, and no harm was intended. 
 But we are living on such a volcano, that, not know- 
 ing what to expect, we are rather nervous. 
 
 I am afraid this close confinement will prove too 
 much for me; my long walks are cut off, on account 
 of the soldiers. One month to-morrow since my last 
 visit to the graveyard ! That haunts me always ; it 
 must be so dreary out there ! Here is a sketch of my 
 daily life, enough to finish me off forever, if much 
 longer persisted in. 
 
 First, get up a little before seven. After breakfast, 
 which is generally within a few minutes after I get 
 down (it used to be just as I got ready, and some- 
 times before, last winter), I attend to my garden, 
 which consists of two strips of ground the length 
 of the house, in front, where I can find an hour's 
 work in examining and admiring my flowers, re- 
 planting those that the cows and horses occasionally 
 (once a day) pull up for me, and in turning the soil 
 over and over again to see which side grows best. 
 O my garden! abode of rare delights! how many 
 pleasant hours I have passed in you, armed with 
 scissors, knife, hoe, or rake, only pausing when Mr. 
 This or Mr. That leaned over the fence to have a 
 talk! — last spring, that was; ever so many are dead 
 now, for all I know, and all off at the war. Now I 
 
 87 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 work for the edification of proper young women, who 
 look in astonishment at me, as they would con- 
 sider themselves degraded by the pursuit. A deli- 
 cate pair of hands my flower mania will leave me ! 
 
 Then I hear Dellie's and Morgan's lessons, after 
 which I open my desk and am lost in the mysteries 
 of Arithmetic, Geography, Blair's Lectures, Noel et 
 Chapsal, Ollendorff, and reading aloud in French and 
 English, besides writing occasionally in each, and 
 sometimes a peep at Lavoisne, until very nearly 
 dinner. The day is not half long enough for me. 
 Many things I would like to study I am forced to 
 give up, for want of leisure to devote to them. But 
 one of these days, I will make up for present defi- 
 ciencies. I study only what I absolutely love, now; 
 but then, if I can, I will study what I am at present 
 ignorant of, and cultivate a taste for something new. 
 
 The few moments before dinner, and all the time 
 after, I devote to writing, sewing, knitting, etc., 
 and if I included darning, repairs, alterations, etc., 
 my list would be tremendous, for I get through with 
 a great deal of sewing. Somewhere in the day, I find 
 half an hour, or more, to spend at the piano. Before 
 sunset I dress, and am free to spend the evening at 
 home, or else walk to Mrs. Brunot's, for it is not safe 
 to go farther than those three squares, away from 
 home. From early twilight until supper, Miriam and 
 I sing with the guitar, generally, and after, sit com- 
 fortably under the chandelier and read until about 
 ten. What little reading I do, is almost exclusively 
 
 88 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 done at that time. It sounds woefully little, but my 
 list of books grows to quite a respectable size, in 
 the course of a year. 
 
 At ten comes my Bible class for the servants. 
 Lucy, Rose, Nancy, and Dophy assemble in my 
 room, and hear me read the Bible, or stories from the 
 Bible for a while. Then one by one say their prayers 
 — they cannot be persuaded to say them together; 
 Dophy says "she can't say with Rose, 'cause she 
 ain't got no brothers and sisters to pray for," and 
 Lucy has no father or mother, and so they go. All 
 difficulties and grievances during the day are laid 
 before me, and I sit like Moses judging the children 
 of Israel, until I can appease the discord. Sometimes 
 it is not so easy. For instance, that memorable night 
 when I had to work Rose's stubborn heart to a proper 
 pitch of repentance for having stabbed a carving- 
 fork in Lucy's arm in a fit of temper. I don't know 
 that I was ever as much astonished as I was at see- 
 ing the dogged, sullen girl throw herself on the 
 floor in a burst of tears, and say if God would for- 
 give her she would never do it again. I was lashing 
 myself internally for not being able to speak as I 
 should, furious at myself for talking so weakly, and 
 lo! here the girl tumbles over wailing and weeping! 
 And Dophy, overcome by her feelings, sobs, "Lucy, 
 I scratched you last week! please forgive me this 
 once!" And amazed and bewildered I look at the 
 touching tableau before me of kissing and reconcilia- 
 tion, for Lucy can bear malice toward no one, and 
 
 89 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 is ready to forgive before others repent, and I look 
 from one to the other, wondering what it was that 
 upset them so completely, for certainly no words 
 of mine caused it. Sometimes Lucy sings a wild 
 hymn, "Did you ever hear the heaven bells ring?" 
 "Come, my loving brothers," "When I put on my 
 starry crown," etc.; and after some such scene as 
 that just described, it is pleasant to hear them go- 
 ing out of the room saying, "Good-night, Miss 
 Sarah!" "God bless Miss Sarah!" and all that. 
 
 June 27th. 
 A proclamation of Van Dorn has just been smug- 
 gled into town, that advises all persons living with- 
 in eight miles of the Mississippi to remove into the 
 interior, as he is determined to defend his depart- 
 ment at all hazards to the last extremity. Does not 
 look like the Peace I have been deluding myself 
 with, does it? That means another Exodus. How are 
 we to leave, when we are not allowed to pass the 
 limits of the corporation by the Federals? Where are 
 we to go? We are between the two armies, and here 
 we must remain patiently awaiting the result. Some 
 of these dark nights, bang! we will hear the cannon, 
 and then it will be sauve qui pent in a shower of shells. 
 Bah ! I don't believe God will suffer that we should 
 be murdered in such a dreadful way! I don't believe 
 He will suffer us to be turned homeless and naked on 
 the world ! "Something will turn up " before we are 
 attacked, and we will be spared, I am certain. We 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 can't look forward more than an hour at a time now, 
 
 sometimes not a minute ahead (witness the shelling 
 
 frolic), so I must resume my old habit of laying a 
 
 clean dress on my bed before going to sleep, which I 
 
 did every night for six weeks before the shelling of 
 
 Baton Rouge, in order to run respectably, as muslin 
 
 cross-bar nightgowns are not suitable for day 
 
 dresses. 
 
 June 28th. 
 
 I am afraid I shall be nervous when the moment of 
 the bombardment actually arrives. This suspense 
 is not calculated to soothe one's nerves. A few mo- 
 ments since, a salute was fired in honor of General 
 Butler's arrival, when women, children, and servants 
 rushed to the front of the houses, confident of a rep- 
 etition of the shelling which occurred a month ago 
 to-day. The children have not forgotten the scene, 
 for they all actually howled with fear. Poor little 
 Sarah stopped her screams to say, "Mother, don't 
 you wish we was dogs 'stead o' white folks? " in such 
 piteous accents that we had to laugh. Don't I 
 wish I was a dog! Sarah is right. I don't know if I 
 showed my uneasiness a while ago, but certainly my 
 heart has hardly yet ceased beating rather rapidly. 
 If I knew what moment to expect the stampede, I 
 would not mind ; but this way — to expect it every 
 instant — it is too much ! Again, if I knew where we 
 could go for refuge from the shells ! 
 
 A window banging unexpectedly just then gave 
 
 91 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 me a curious twinge; not that I thought it was the 
 signal, oh, dear, no! I just thought — what, I won- 
 der? Pshaw! "Picayune Butler's coming, coming" 
 has upset my nervous system. He interrupted me in 
 the middle of my arithmetic; and I have not the 
 energy to resume my studies. I shall try- what effect 
 an hour's practice will have on my spirits, and will 
 see that I have a pair of clean stockings in my 
 stampede sack, and that the fastenings of my "run- 
 ning-bag" are safe. Though if I expect to take either, 
 I should keep in harness constantly. How long, O 
 Lord! how long? 
 
 June 29th, Sunday. 
 
 "Any more, Mr. Lincoln, any more?" Can't you 
 leave our racked homes in repose? We are all wild. 
 Last night, five citizens were arrested, on no charge 
 at all, and carried down to Picayune Butler's ship. 
 What a thrill of terror ran through the whole com- 
 munity! We all felt so helpless, so powerless under 
 the hand of our tyrant, the man who swore to uphold 
 the Constitution and the laws, who is professedly 
 only fighting to give us all Liberty, the birthright 
 of every American, and who, nevertheless, has ground 
 us down to a state where we would not reduce our 
 negroes, who tortures and sneers at us, and rules us 
 with an iron hand ! Ah ! Liberty ! what a humbug ! I 
 would rather belong to England or France, than to 
 the North ! Bondage, woman that I am, I can never 
 stand! Even now, the Northern papers, distributed 
 among us, taunt us with our subjection and tell us 
 
 92 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 "how coolly Butler will grind them down, paying no 
 regard to their writhing and torture beyond tighten- 
 ing the bonds still more ! " Ah, truly ! this is the bitter- 
 ness of slavery, to be insulted and reviled by cowards 
 who are safe at home and enjoy the protection of 
 the laws, while we, captive and overpowered, dare 
 not raise our voices to throw back the insult, and are 
 governed by the despotism of one man, whose word 
 is our law! And that man, they tell us, "is the right 
 man in the right place. He will develop a Union 
 sentiment among the people, if the thing can be 
 done ! " Come and see if he can ! Hear the curse that 
 arises from thousands of hearts at that man's name, 
 and say if he will "speedily bring us to our senses." 
 Will he accomplish it by love, tenderness, mercy, 
 compassion? He might have done it; but did he 
 try? When he came, he assumed his natural r61e as 
 tyrant, and bravely has he acted it through, never 
 once turning aside for Justice or Mercy. . . . This 
 degradation is worse than the bitterness of death! 
 I see no salvation on either side. No glory awaits 
 the Southern Confederacy, even if it does achieve its 
 independence; it will be a mere speck in the world, 
 with no weight or authority. The North confesses 
 itself lost without us, and has paid an unheard-of 
 ransom to regain us. On the other hand, conquered, 
 what hope is there in this world for us? Broken in 
 health and fortune, reviled, contemned, abused by 
 those who claim already to have subdued us, without 
 a prospect of future support for those few of our 
 
 93 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 brothers who return; outcasts without home or 
 honor, would not death or exile be preferable? Oh, 
 let us abandon our loved home to these implacable 
 enemies, and find refuge elsewhere! Take from us 
 property, everything, only grant us liberty! Is this 
 rather frantic, considering I abhor politics, and 
 women who meddle with them, above all? My 
 opinion has not yet changed ; I still feel the same con- 
 tempt for a woman who would talk at the top of her 
 voice for the edification of Federal officers, as though 
 anxious to receive an invitation requesting her pres- 
 ence at the Garrison. "I can suffer and be still" as 
 far as outward signs are concerned ; but as no word 
 of this has passed my lips, I give it vent in writing, 
 which is more lasting than words, partly to relieve 
 my heart, partly to prove to my own satisfaction 
 that I am no coward ; for one line of this, surrounded 
 as we are by soldiers, and liable to have our houses 
 searched at any instant, would be a sufficient in- 
 dictment for high treason. 
 
 Under General Williams's rule, I was perfectly 
 satisfied that whatever was done, was done through 
 necessity, and under orders from Headquarters, 
 beyond his control ; we all liked him. But now, since 
 Butler's arrival, I believe I am as frantic in secret 
 as the others are openly. I know that war sanctions 
 many hard things, and that both sides practice 
 them; but now we are so completely lost in Louisi- 
 ana, is it fair to gibe and taunt us with our humilia- 
 tion? I could stand anything save the cowardly 
 
 94 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ridicule and triumph of their papers. Honestly, I 
 believe if all vile abusive papers on both sides were 
 suppressed, and some of the fire-eating editors who 
 make a living by lying were soundly cowhided or had 
 their ears clipped, it would do more towards estab- 
 lishing peace, than all the bloodshedding either side 
 can afford. I hope to live to see it, too. Seems to 
 me, more liberty is allowed to the press than would 
 be tolerated in speech. Let us speak as freely as any 
 paper, and see if to-morrow we do not sleep at Fort 
 Jackson ! 
 
 This morning the excitement is rare ; fifteen more 
 citizens were arrested and carried off, and all the rest 
 grew wild with expectation. So great a martyrdom 
 is it considered, that I am sure those who are not ar- 
 rested will be woefully disappointed. It is ludicrous 
 to see how each man thinks he is the very one they 
 are in search of! We asked a twopenny lawyer, of 
 no more importance in the community than Dophy 
 is, if it was possible he was not arrested. " But I am 
 expecting to be every instant ! " So much for his self- 
 assurance ! Those arrested have, some, been quietly 
 released (those are so smiling and mysterious that I 
 suspect them), some been obliged to take the oath, 
 some sent to Fort Jackson. Ah, Liberty! What a 
 blessing it is to enjoy thy privileges ! If some of these 
 poor men are not taken prisoners, they will die of 
 mortification at the slight. 
 
 Our valiant Governor, the brave Moore, has by 
 order of the real Governor, Moi'se, made himself 
 
 95 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 visible at some far-distant point, and issued a proc- 
 lamation, saying, whereas we of Baton Rouge were 
 held forcibly in town, he therefore considered men, 
 women, and children prisoners of war, and as such 
 the Yankees are bound to supply us with all neces- 
 saries, and consequently any one sending us aid or 
 comfort or provisions from the country will be se- 
 verely punished. Only Moore is fool enough for such 
 an order. Held down by the Federals, our paper 
 money so much trash, with hardly any other to buy 
 food and no way of earning it; threatened with 
 starvation and utter ruin, our own friends, by way of 
 making our burden lighter, forbid our receiving the 
 means of prolonging life, and after generously warn- 
 ing us to leave town, which they know is perfectly 
 impossible, prepare to burn it over our heads, and 
 let the women run the same risk as the men. Penned 
 in on one little square mile, here we await our fate 
 like sheep in the slaughter-pen. Our hour may be at 
 hand now, it may be to-night; we have only to wait; 
 the booming of the cannon will announce it to us 
 soon enough. 
 
 Of the six sentenced to Fort Jackson, one is the 
 Methodist minister, Mr. Craven. The only charge 
 is, that he was heard to pray for the Confederate 
 States by some officers who passed his house during 
 his family prayers. According to that, which of us 
 would escape unhung? I do not believe there is 
 a woman in the land who closes her eyes before 
 praying for God's blessing on the side on which her 
 
 96 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 brothers are engaged. Are we all to cease? Show me 
 the dungeon deep enough to keep me from praying 
 for them ! The man represented that he had a large 
 family totally dependent on him, who must starve. 
 "Let them get up a subscription," was General But- 
 ler's humane answer. "I will head it myself." It is 
 useless to say the generous offer was declined. 
 
 June 30th. 
 As a specimen of the humanity of General Butler, 
 let me record a threat of his uttered with all the force 
 and meaning language can convey, and certainly 
 enough to strike terror in the hearts of frail women, 
 since all these men believe him fully equal to carry 
 it into execution ; some even believe it will be done. 
 In speaking to Mr. Solomon Benjamin of foreign 
 intervention in our favor, he said, "Let England or 
 
 France try it, and I '11 be if I don't arm every 
 
 negro in the South, and make them cut the throat of 
 every man, woman, and child in it! I '11 make them 
 lay the whole country waste with fire and sword, 
 and leave it desolate!" Draw me a finer picture of 
 Coward, Brute, or Bully than that one sentence 
 portrays! O men of the North! you do your noble 
 hearts wrong in sending such ruffians among us as 
 the representatives of a great people! Was ever a 
 more brutal thought uttered in a more brutal way? 
 Mother, like many another, is crazy to go away from 
 here, even to New Orleans ; but like the rest, will be 
 obliged to stand and await her fate. I don't believe 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Butler would dare execute his threat, for at the first 
 attempt, thousands, who are passive now, would cut 
 the brutal heart from his inhuman breast. 
 
 Tuesday, July 1st. 
 I heard such a good joke last night! If I had be- 
 longed to the female declaiming club, I fear me I 
 would have resigned instantly through mere terror. 
 (Thank Heaven, I don't!) These officers say the 
 women talk too much, which is undeniable. They 
 then said, they meant to get up a sewing society, and 
 place in it every woman who makes herself con- 
 spicuous by her loud talking about them. Fancy 
 what a refinement of torture ! But only a few would 
 suffer; the majority would be only too happy to en- 
 joy the usual privilege of sewing societies, slander, 
 abuse, and insinuations. How some would revel in 
 it. The mere threat makes me quake! If I could so 
 far forget my dignity, and my father's name, as to 
 court the notice of gentlemen by contemptible in- 
 sult, etc., and if I should be ordered to take my seat 
 at the sewing society — ! ! ! I would never hold my 
 head up again! Member of a select sewing circle! 
 Fancy me! (I know "there is never any gossip in 
 our society, though the one over the way gets up 
 dreadful reports"; I have heard all that, but would 
 rather try neither.) Oh, how I would beg and plead ! 
 Fifty years at Fort Jackson, good, kind General 
 Butler, rather than half an hour in your sewing 
 society! Gentle, humane ruler, spare me and I split 
 
 98 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 my throat in shouting " Yankee Doodle " and "Hur- 
 rah for Lincoln ! " Any, every thing, so I am not dis- 
 graced! Deliver me from your sewing society, and 
 I '11 say and do what you please ! 
 
 Butler told some of these gentlemen that he had a 
 detective watching almost every house in town, and 
 he knew everything. True or not, it looks suspi- 
 cious. We are certainly watched. Every evening two 
 men may be seen in the shadow on the other side of 
 the street, standing there until ever so late, some- 
 times until after we have gone to bed. It may be 
 that, far from home, they are attracted by the bright 
 light and singing, and watch us for their amusement. 
 A few nights ago, so many officers passed and re- 
 passed while we were singing on the balcony, that I 
 felt as though our habit of long standing had sud- 
 denly become improper. Saturday night, having 
 secured a paper, we were all crowding around, Lilly 
 and I reading every now and then a piece of news 
 from opposite ends of the paper, Charlie, walking on 
 the balcony, found five officers leaning over the fence 
 watching us as we stood under the light, through 
 the open window. Hope they won't elect me to the 
 
 sewing society ! 
 
 Thursday night, July 3d. 
 
 Another day of sickening suspense. This evening, 
 about three, came the rumor that there was to be 
 an attack on the town to-night, or early in the morn- 
 ing, and we had best be prepared for anything. I 
 can't say I believe it, but in spite of my distrust, I 
 
 99 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 made my preparations. First of all I made a charm- 
 ing improvement in my knapsack, alias pillow-case, 
 by sewing a strong black band down each side of the 
 centre from the bottom to the top, when it is carried 
 back and fastened below again, allowing me to pass my 
 arms through, and thus present the appearance of an 
 old peddler. Miriam's I secured also, and tied all our 
 laces in a handkerchief ready to lay it in the last thing. 
 But the interior of my bag ! — what a medley it is ! 
 First, I believe, I have secured four underskirts, 
 three chemises, as many pairs of stockings, two under- 
 bodies, the prayer book father gave me, "Tennyson " 
 that Harry gave me when I was fourteen, two unmade 
 muslins, a white mull, English grenadine trimmed 
 with lilac, and a purple linen, and nightgown. 
 Then, I must have Lavinia's daguerreotype, arid 
 how could I leave Will's, when perhaps he was dead? 
 Besides, Howell's and Will Carter's were with him, 
 and one single case did not matter. But there was 
 Tom Barker's I would like to keep, and oh! let's 
 take Mr. Stone's! and I can't slight Mr. Dunnington, 
 for these two have been too kind to Jimmy for me 
 to forget; and poor Captain Huger is dead, and I will 
 keep his, so they all went together. A box of pens, 
 too, was indispensable, and a case of French note- 
 paper, and a bundle of Harry's letters were added. 
 Miriam insisted on the old diary that preceded this, 
 and found place for it, though I am afraid if she knew 
 what trash she was to carry, she would retract before 
 going farther. 
 
 ioo 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 It makes me heartsick to see the utter ruin we will 
 be plunged in if forced to run to-night. Not a hun- 
 dredth part of what I most value can be saved — if 
 I counted my letters and papers, not a thousandth. 
 But I cannot believe we will run to-night. The sol- 
 diers tell whoever questions them that there will be 
 a fight before morning, but I believe it must be to 
 alarm them. Though what looks suspicious is, that 
 the officers said — to whom is not stated — that the 
 ladies must not be uneasy if they heard cannon to- 
 night, as they would probably commence to cele- 
 brate the Fourth of July about twelve o'clock. What 
 does it mean? I repeat, I don't believe a word of it; 
 yet I have not yet met the woman or child who is not 
 prepared to fly. Rose knocked at the door just now 
 to show her preparations. Her only thought seems 
 to be mother's silver, so she has quietly taken pos- 
 session of our shoe-bag, which is a long sack for odds 
 and ends with cases for shoes outside, and has filled 
 it with all the contents of the silver- box; this hung 
 over her arm, and carrying Louis and Sarah, this 
 young Samson says she will be ready to fly. 
 
 I don't believe it, yet here I sit, my knapsack 
 serving me for a desk, my seat the chair on which 
 I have carefully spread my clothes in order. At my 
 elbow lies my running- or treasure-bag, surrounded 
 by my cabas filled with hair-pins, starch, and a band 
 I was embroidering, etc.; near it lie our combs, etc., 
 and the whole is crowned by my dagger ; — by the 
 way, I must add Miriam's pistol which she has for- 
 
 IOI 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 gotten, though over there lies her knapsack ready, 
 
 too, with our bonnets and veils. 
 
 It is long past eleven, and no sound of the cannon. 
 
 Bah ! I do not expect it. "I '11 lay me down and sleep 
 
 in peace, for Thou only, Lord, makest me to dwell in 
 
 safety." Good-night ! I wake up to-morrow the same 
 
 as usual, and be disappointed that my trouble was 
 
 unnecessary. 
 
 July 4th. 
 
 Here I am, and still alive, having wakened but once 
 in the night, and that only in consequence of Louis 
 and Morgan crying; nothing more alarming than 
 that. I ought to feel foolish; but I do not. I am glad 
 I was prepared, even though there was no occasion 
 for it. 
 
 While I was taking my early bath, Lilly came to 
 the bath-house and told me through the weather- 
 boarding of another battle. Stonewall Jackson has 
 surrounded McClellan completely, and victory is 
 again ours. This is said to be the sixth battle he has 
 fought in twenty days, and they say he has won 
 them all. And the Seventh Regiment distinguished 
 itself, and was presented with four cannon on the 
 battlefield in acknowledgment of its gallant conduct! 
 Gibbes belongs to the "ragged howling regiment 
 that rushed on the field yelling like unchained devils 
 and spread a panic through the army," as the North- 
 ern papers said, describing the battle of Manassas. 
 Oh, how I hope he has escaped! 
 
 And they say "Palmerston has urged the re- 
 102 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 cognition of the Confederacy, and an armed inter- 
 vention on our side." Would it not be glorious? Oh, 
 for peace, blessed peace, and our brothers once more! 
 Palmerston is said to have painted Butler as the 
 vilest oppressor, and having added he was ashamed 
 to acknowledge him of Anglo-Saxon origin. Perhaps 
 knowing the opinion entertained of him by foreign 
 nations, caused Butler to turn such a somersault. For 
 a few days before his arrival here, we saw a leading 
 article in the leading Union paper of New Orleans, 
 threatening us with the arming of the slaves for our 
 extermination if England interfered, in the same 
 language almost as Butler used when here ; three days 
 ago the same paper ridiculed the idea, and said such 
 a brutal, inhuman thing was never for a moment 
 thought of, it was too absurd. And so the world goes ! 
 We all turn somersaults occasionally. 
 
 And yet, I would rather we would achieve our 
 independence alone, if possible. It would be so much 
 more glorious. And then I would hate to see Eng- 
 land conquer the North, even if for our sake ; my love 
 for the old Union is still too great to be willing to see 
 it so humiliated. If England would just make Lin- 
 coln come to his senses, and put an end to all this 
 confiscation which is sweeping over everything, 
 make him agree to let us alone and behave himself, 
 that will be quite enough. But what a task! If it 
 were put to the vote to-morrow to return free and 
 unmolested to the Union, or stay out, I am sure 
 Union would have the majority; but this way, to 
 
 103 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 think we are to be sent to Fort Jackson and all the 
 other prisons for expressing our ideas, however harm- 
 less, to have our houses burned over our heads, and 
 all the prominent men hanged, who would be eager 
 for it? — unless, indeed, it was to escape even the 
 greater horrors of a war of extermination. 
 
 July 5th. 
 
 Think, that since the 28th of May, I have not 
 walked three squares at a time, for my only walks 
 are to Mrs. Brunot's! 
 
 It is enough to kill any one ; I might as well be at 
 Ship Island, where Butler has sentenced Mrs. Phillips 
 for laughing while the corpse of a Federal officer * 
 was passing — at least, that is to be the principal 
 charge, though I hope, for the sake of Butler's soul, 
 that he had better reasons. Shocking as her conduct 
 was, she hardly deserved two years' close confine- 
 ment in such a dreadful place as that, because she 
 happened to have no sense of delicacy, and no feel- 
 ing. 
 
 "The darkest hour is just before the day"; we 
 have had the blackest night for almost three months, 
 and I don't see the light yet. " Better days are com- 
 ing — " I am getting skeptical, I fear me. 
 
 I look forward to my future life with a shudder. 
 This one cannot last long; I will be "up and doing" 
 before many months are past. Doing what? Why, if 
 
 1 Note by Mrs. Dawson in 1906: DeKay, our relative. 
 IO4 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 all father left us is lost forever, if we are to be penni- 
 less as well as homeless, I '11 work for my living. 
 How, I wonder? I will teach. I know I am not capa- 
 ble, but I can do my best. I would rather die than 
 be dependent; I would rather die than teach. There 
 now, you know how I feel ! Teaching before depend- 
 ence, death before teaching. My soul revolts from 
 the drudgery. I never see a governess that my heart 
 does not ache for her. I think of the nameless, num- 
 berless insults and trials she is forced to submit to; 
 of the hopeless, thankless task that is imposed on 
 her, to which she is expected to submit without a 
 murmur; of all her griefs and agony shut up in her 
 heart, and I cry Heaven help a governess. My heart 
 bleeds for them and — 
 
 I o'clock P.M. 
 
 Thus far had I reached when news came that our 
 forces were attacking the town, and had already 
 driven the pickets in! I am well now. 
 
 We all rushed to make preparations instantly. I 
 had just finished washing my hair, before I com- 
 menced writing, and had it all streaming around me; 
 but it did not take a minute to thrust it into a loose 
 net. Then we each put on a fresh dress, except myself, 
 as I preferred to have a linen cambric worn several 
 times before, to a clean one not quite so nice, for 
 that can do good service when washed. The excite- 
 ment is intense ; mother is securing a few of father's 
 most valuable papers; Lilly running around after 
 the children, and waiting for Charlie who cannot be 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 found; Miriam, after securing all things needful, 
 has gone downstairs to wait the issue; and I, dressed 
 for instant flight, with my running-bag tied to my 
 waist, and knapsack, bonnet, veil, etc., on the bed, 
 occupy my last few moments at home in this profit- 
 able way. 
 
 Nobody knows what it is. A regiment has been 
 marched out to meet our troops, some say com- 
 manded by Van Dorn, which I doubt. The gunboats 
 are preparing to second them ; we hear the Garrison 
 drum and see people running, that is all. We don't 
 know what is coming. I believe it will prove nothing, 
 after all. But — ! The gunboat is drawn up so as to 
 command our street here; the guns aimed up the 
 street just below, and if a house falls, ours will be 
 about the first. Well! this time next year, we will 
 know all of which we are now ignorant. That is one 
 consolation! The house will either be down or 
 standing, then. 
 
 6 P.M. 
 
 We have once more subsided ; how foolish all this 
 seems! Miriam and I laughed while preparing, and 
 laughed while unpacking; it is the only way to 
 take such things, and we agree on that, as on most 
 other subjects. "They say" the affair originated 
 from half a dozen shots fired by some Federal sol- 
 diers through idleness, whereupon the pickets rushed 
 in screaming Van Dorn was after them at the head 
 of six thousand men. I have my reasons for doubt- 
 ing the story ; it must have been something more than 
 
 1 06 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that, to spread such a panic ; for they certainly had 
 time to ascertain the truth of the attack before they 
 beat the long roll and sent out their troops, for if it 
 had been Van Dorn, he would have been on them 
 before that. Whatever it was, I am glad of the ex- 
 citement, for it gave me new lif 3 for several hours ; I 
 was really sick before. Oh, this life! When will it 
 end? Evermore and forevermore shall we live in 
 this suspense? I wish we were in the Sandwich 
 Islands. 
 
 July 7th. 
 
 As we have no longer a minister — Mr. Gierlow 
 having gone to Europe — and no papers, I am in 
 danger of forgetting the days of the week, as well as 
 those of the month ; but I am positive that yesterday 
 was Sunday because I heard the Sunday-School 
 bells, and Friday I am sure was the Fourth, because 
 I heard the national salute fired. I must remember 
 that to find my dates by. 
 
 Well, last night being Sunday, a son of Captain 
 Hooper, who died in the Fort Jackson fight, having 
 just come from New Orleans, stopped here on his 
 way to Jackson, to tell us the news, or rather to see 
 Charlie, and told us afterwards. He says a boat 
 from Mobile reached the city Saturday evening, and 
 the captain told Mr. La Noue that he brought 
 an extra from the former place, containing news of 
 McClellan's surrender with his entire army, his 
 being mortally wounded, and the instant depar- 
 ture of a French, and English, man-of-war, from 
 
 107 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Hampton Roads, with the news. That revived my 
 spirits considerably — all except McClellan's being 
 wounded ; I could dispense with that. But if it were 
 true, and if peace would follow, and the boys come 
 home — ! Oh, what bliss! I would die of joy as 
 rapidly as I am pining away with suspense now, I 
 am afraid ! 
 
 About ten o'clock, as we came up, mother went to 
 the window in the entry to tell the news to Mrs. 
 Day, and while speaking, saw a man creeping by 
 under the window, in the narrow little alley on the 
 side of the house, evidently listening, for he had 
 previously been standing in the shadow of a tree, 
 and left the street to be nearer. When mother ran 
 to give the alarm to Charlie, I looked down, and 
 there the man was, looking up, as I could dimly see, 
 for he crouched down in the shadow of the fence. 
 Presently, stooping still, he ran fast towards the 
 front of the house, making quite a noise in the long 
 tangled grass. When he got near the pepper-bush, 
 he drew himself up to his full height, paused a mo- 
 ment as though listening, and then walked quietly 
 towards the front gate. By that time Charlie reached 
 the front gallery above, and called to him, asking 
 what he wanted. Without answering the man walked 
 steadily out, closed the gate deliberately; then, sud- 
 denly remembering drunkenness would be the best 
 excuse, gave a lurch towards the house, walked off 
 perfectly straight in the moonlight, until seeing Dr. 
 Day fastening his gate, he reeled again. 
 
 108 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 That man was not drunk! Drunken men cannot 
 run crouching, do not shut gates carefully after them, 
 would have no inclination to creep in a dim little 
 alley merely to creep out again. It may have been 
 one of our detectives. Standing in the full moon- 
 light, which was very bright, he certainly looked 
 like a gentleman, for he was dressed in a handsome 
 suit of black. He was no citizen. Form your own 
 conclusions! Well! after all, he heard no treason. 
 Let him play eavesdropper if he finds it consistent 
 with his character as a gentleman. 
 
 The captain who brought the extra from Mobile 
 wished to have it reprinted, but it was instantly 
 seized by a Federal officer, who carried it to Butler, 
 who monopolized it; so that will never be heard of 
 again ; we must wait for other means of information. 
 The young boy who told us, reminds me very much 
 of Jimmy; he is by no means so handsome, but yet 
 there is something that recalls him; and his voice, 
 though more childish, sounds like Jimmy's, too. I 
 had an opportunity of writing to Lydia by him, of 
 which I gladly availed myself, and have just finished 
 a really tremendous epistle. 
 
 Wednesday, 9th July. 
 
 Poor Miriam! Poor Sarah! they are disgraced 
 again ! Last night we were all sitting on the balcony 
 in the moonlight, singing as usual with our guitar. 
 I have been so accustomed to hear father say in the 
 evening, " Come, girls ! where is my concert? " and he 
 took so much pleasure in listening, that I could not 
 
 109 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 think singing in the balcony was so very dreadful, 
 since he encouraged us in it. But last night changed 
 all my ideas. We noticed Federals, both officers and 
 soldiers, pass singly, or by twos or threes at different 
 times, but as we were not singing for their benefit, 
 and they were evidently attending to their own af- 
 fairs, there was no necessity of noticing them at all. 
 But about half-past nine, after we had sung two 
 or three dozen others, we commenced "Mary of 
 Argyle." As the last word died away, while the chords 
 were still vibrating, came a sound of — clapping 
 hands, in short ! Down went every string of the guitar ; 
 Charlie cried, "I told you so!" and ordered an im- 
 mediate retreat; Miriam objected, as undignified, 
 but renounced the guitar; mother sprang to her 
 feet, and closed the front windows in an instant, 
 whereupon, dignified or not, we all evacuated the 
 gallery and fell back into the house. All this was done 
 in a few minutes, and as quietly as possible ; and while 
 the gas was being turned off downstairs, Miriam and 
 I flew upstairs, — I confess I was mortified to death, 
 very, very much ashamed, — but we wanted to 
 see the guilty party, for from below they were in- 
 visible. We stole out on the front balcony above, 
 and in front of the house that used to be Gibbes's, 
 we beheld one of the culprits. At the sight of the 
 creature, my mortification vanished in intense com- 
 passion for his. He was standing under the tree, 
 half in the moonlight, his hands in his pockets, look- 
 ing at the extinction of light below, with the true 
 
 no 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 state of affairs dawning on his astonished mind, and 
 looking by no means satisfied with himself ! Such an 
 abashed creature! He looked just as though he had 
 received a kick, that, conscious of deserving, he 
 dared not return ! While he yet gazed on the house 
 in silent amazement and consternation, hands still 
 forlornly searching his pockets, as though for a rea- 
 son for our behavior, from under the dark shadow 
 of the tree another slowly picked himself up from the 
 ground — hope he was not knocked down by surprise 
 — and joined the first. His hands sought his pockets, 
 too, and, if possible, he looked more mortified than 
 the other. After looking for some time at the house, 
 satisfied that they had put an end to future singing 
 from the gallery, they walked slowly away, turning 
 back every now and then to be certain that it was 
 a fact. If ever I saw two mortified, hangdog-looking 
 men, they were these two as they took their way 
 home. Was it not shocking? 
 
 But they could not have meant it merely to be 
 insulting or they would have placed themselves in 
 full view of us, rather than out of sight, under the 
 trees. Perhaps they were thinking of their own 
 homes, instead of us. 
 
 July ioth. 
 
 A proclamation is out announcing that any one 
 talking about the war, or present state of affairs, 
 will be "summarily" dealt with. Now, seems to me 
 "summarily" is not exactly the word they mean, 
 but still it has an imposing effect. What a sad state 
 
 in 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 their affairs must be in, if they can't bear comment. 
 An officer arrived day before yesterday, bringing the 
 surprising intelligence that McClellan had captured 
 Richmond and fifty thousand prisoners; that is the 
 time they talked. But when we received yesterday con- 
 firmation of his being finally defeated by our troops, 
 and the capture of his railroad train twelve miles in 
 length, they forbid further mention of the subject. 
 I wonder if they expect to be obeyed? What a stretch 
 of tyranny ! O free America ! You who uphold free 
 people, free speech, free everything, what a foul blot 
 of despotism rests on a once spotless name ! A nation 
 of brave men, who wage war on women and lock 
 them up in prisons for using their woman weapon, 
 the tongue; a nation of free people who advocate 
 despotism ; a nation of Brothers who bind the weaker 
 ones hand and foot, and scourge them with military 
 tyrants and other Free, Brotherly institutions ; what 
 a picture! Who would not be an American? One 
 consolation is, that this proclamation, and the ex- 
 traordinary care they take to suppress all news ex- 
 cept what they themselves manufacture, proves me 
 our cause is prospering more than they like us to 
 know. I do believe day is about to break! 
 
 If our troops are determined to burn our houses 
 over our heads to spite the Yankees, I wish they 
 would hurry and have it over at once. Ten regiments 
 of infantry are stationed at Camp Moore, and Scott's 
 cavalry was expected at Greenwell yesterday, both 
 preparing for an attack on Baton Rouge. If we must 
 
 112 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 be beggars, let it come at once; I can't endure this 
 
 suspense. 
 
 July nth. 
 
 A letter from George this morning! It was writ- 
 ten on the 20th of June, and he speaks of being on 
 crutches in consequence of his horse having fallen 
 with him, and injured his knee. Perhaps, then, he 
 was not in the first battle of the 25th? But bah! I 
 know George too well to imagine he would keep 
 quiet at such a moment, if he could possibly stand ! 
 I am sure he was there with the rest of the Louisi- 
 ana regiment. The papers say "the conduct of the 
 First Louisiana is beyond all praise"; of course, 
 George was there! 
 
 And Jimmy is with him at Richmond ; but whether 
 in the army, or navy, or what rank if in the first, 
 he does not say; he only says he is looking remark- 
 ably well. Gibbes he had heard from in a letter dated 
 the 1 6th, and up to then he was in perfect health. 
 His last letter here was dated 10th of March, so we 
 are thankful enough now. I was so delighted to read 
 the accounts of the "gallant Seventh " in some paper 
 we fortunately procured. At Jackson's address, and 
 presentation of the battery they had so bravely won, 
 I was beside myself with delight; I was thinking 
 that Gibbes, of course, was "the" regiment, had 
 taken the battery with his single sword, and I know 
 not what besides. Strange to say, I have not an 
 idea of the names of the half-dozen battles he was in, 
 in June, but believe that one to be Port Republic. 
 
 113 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 June 1 2th [sic]. 
 
 Brother writes that rumors of the capture of Baton 
 Rouge by our troops have made him very uneasy 
 about us; and he wishes us to go down to New Or- 
 leans if possible. I wish we could. The impression 
 here, is that an attack is inevitable, and the city 
 papers found it necessary to contradict the rumor 
 of Ruggles having occupied it already. I wish mother 
 would go. I can see no difference there or here, 
 except that there, we will be safe, for a while at 
 least. . . . 
 
 I grow desperate when I read these Northern 
 
 papers reviling and abusing us, reproaching us for 
 
 being broken and dispersed, taunting us with their 
 
 victories, sparing no humiliating name in speaking of 
 
 us, and laughing as to what "we'll see" when we vile 
 
 rebels are "driven out of Virginia, and the glorious 
 
 Union firmly established." I can't bear these taunts! 
 
 I grow sick to read these vile, insulting papers that 
 
 seem written expressly to goad us into madness! . . . 
 
 There must be many humane, reasonable men in 
 
 the North ; can they not teach their editors decency 
 
 in this their hour of triumph? 
 
 July 13th, Sunday. 
 
 A profitable way to spend such a day! Being 
 forced to dispense with church-going, I have occu- 
 pied myself in reading a great deal, and writing a 
 little, which latter duty is a favorite task of mine 
 after church on Sundays. But this evening, the 
 mosquitoes are so savage that writing became im- 
 
 114 
 
JAMES MORRIS MORGAN 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 possible, until Miriam and I instituted a grand ex- 
 termination process, which we partly accomplished 
 by extraordinary efforts. She lay on the bed with 
 the bar half-drawn over her, and half-looped up, 
 while I was commissioned to fan the wretches from 
 all corners into the pen. It was rather fatiguing, and 
 in spite of the numbers slain, hardly recompensed 
 me for the trouble of hunting them around the room ; 
 but still, Miriam says exercise is good for me, and 
 she ought to know. 
 
 I have been reading that old disguster, Boswell. 
 Bah ! I have no patience with the toady ! I suppose 
 "my mind is not yet thoroughly impregnated with 
 the Johnsonian ether," and that is the reason why 
 I cannot appreciate him, or his work. I admire him 
 for his patience and minuteness in compiling such 
 trivial details. He must have been an amiable man, 
 to bear Johnson's brutal, ill-humored remarks; but 
 seems to me if I had not spirit enough to resent the 
 indignity, I would at least not publish it to the world ! 
 Briefly, my opinion, which this book has only tended 
 to confirm, is that Boswell was a vain, conceited 
 prig, a fool of a jackanape, an insupportable syco- 
 phant, a — whatever mean thing you please ; there 
 is no word small enough to suit him. As to Johnson, 
 he is a surly old bear; in short, an old brute of a 
 tyrant. All his knowledge and attainments could 
 not have made me tolerate him, I am sure. I could 
 have no respect for a man who was so coarse in 
 speech and manners, and who eat like an animal. 
 
 115 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Fact is, I am not a Boswellian, or a Johnsonian, 
 either. I do not think him such an extraordinary 
 man. I have heard many conversations as worthy 
 of being recorded as nineteen-twentieths of his. In 
 spite of his learning, he was narrow-minded and 
 bigoted, which I despise above all earthly failings. 
 Witness his tirades against Americans, calling us 
 Rascals, Robbers, Pirates, and saying he would like 
 to burn us ! Now I have railed at many of these ordi- 
 nary women here, for using like epithets for the 
 Yankees, and have felt the greatest contempt for 
 their absurd abuse. These poor women do not as- 
 pire to Johnsonian wisdom, and their ignorance 
 may serve as an excuse for their narrow-mindedness ; 
 but the wondrous Johnson to rave and bellow like 
 any Billingsgate nymph! Bah! He is an old dis- 
 
 guster ! 
 
 July 14th, 3 p.m. 
 
 Another pleasant excitement. News has just 
 arrived that Scott's cavalry was having a hard fight 
 with the Yankees eight miles from town. Everybody 
 immediately commenced to pick up stray articles, 
 and get ready to fly, in spite of the intense heat. I 
 am resigned, as I hardly expect a shelling. Another 
 report places the fight fourteen miles from here. A 
 man on horseback came in for reinforcements. Heaven 
 help poor Howell, if it is true. I am beginning to 
 doubt half I hear. People tell me the most extrava- 
 gant things, and if I am fool enough to believe them 
 and repeat them, I suddenly discover that it is not 
 
 116 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 half so true as it might be, and as they themselves 
 frequently deny having told it, all the odium of 
 "manufacturing" rests on my shoulders, which have 
 not been accustomed to bear lies of any kind. I mean 
 to cease believing anything, unless it rests on the 
 word of some responsible person. By the way — 
 the order I so confidently believed, concerning the 
 proclamation, turns out not quite so bad. I was told 
 women were included, and it extended to private 
 houses as well as public ones, though I fortunately 
 omitted that when I recorded it. When I read it, it 
 said, "All discussions concerning the war are pro- 
 hibited in bar-rooms, public assemblies, and street 
 corners." As women do not frequent such places, and 
 private houses are not mentioned, I cannot imagine 
 how my informant made the mistake, unless, like 
 me, it was through hearing it repeated. Odious as 
 I thought it then, I think it wise now ; for more than 
 one man has lost his life through discussions of the 
 
 kind. 
 
 July 17th, Thursday. 
 
 It is decided that I am to go to New Orleans next 
 week. I hardly know which I dislike most, going or 
 staying. I know I shall be dreadfully homesick; 
 but — 
 
 Remember — and keep quiet, Sarah, I beg of 
 you. Everything points to an early attack here. 
 Some say this week. The Federals are cutting down 
 all our beautiful woods near the Penitentiary, to 
 
 117 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 throw up breastworks, some say. Cannon are to be 
 planted on the foundation of Mr. Pike's new house; 
 everybody is in a state of expectation. Honestly, if 
 Baton Rouge has to be shelled, I shall hate to miss 
 the fun. It will be worth seeing, and I would like to 
 be present, even at the risk of losing my big toe by 
 a shell. But then, by going, I can save many of my 
 clothes, and then Miriam and I can divide when every- 
 thing is burned — that is one advantage, besides 
 being beneficial by the change of air. They say the 
 town is to be attacked to-night. I don't believe a 
 word of it. 
 
 Oh, I was so distressed this evening! They tell 
 me Mr. Biddle was killed at Vicksburg. I hope it is 
 not true. Suppose it was a shot from Will's battery? 
 
 July 20th, Sunday. 
 Last night the town was in a dreadful state of 
 excitement. Before sunset a regiment, that had been 
 camped out of town, came in, and pitched their tents 
 around the new theatre, in front of our church. All 
 was commotion and bustle; and as the pickets had 
 been drawn in, and >the soldiers talked freely of ex- 
 pecting an attack, everybody believed it, and was 
 consequently in rather an unpleasant state of antici- 
 pation. Their cannon were on the commons back of 
 the church, the artillery horses tied to the wheels; 
 while some dozen tents were placed around, filled 
 with men who were ready to harness them at the 
 first alarm. With all these preparations in full view, 
 
 118 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 we went to bed as usual. I did not even take the 
 trouble of gathering my things which I had re- 
 moved from my "peddler sack"; and slept, satis- 
 fied that, if forced to fly, I would lose almost every- 
 thing in spite of my precaution in making a bag. 
 
 Well! night passed, and here is morning, and noth- 
 ing is heard yet. The attack is delayed until this 
 evening, or to-morrow, they say. Woman though 
 I am, I am by no means as frightened as some of 
 these men are. I can't get excited about it. Perhaps 
 it is because they know the danger, and I do not. 
 But I hate to see men uneasy! I have been so accus- 
 tomed to brave, fearless ones, who would beard the 
 Devil himself, that it gives me a great disgust to see 
 any one less daring than father and the boys. 
 
 I have been so busy preparing to go to the city 
 that I think if the frolic should intervene and pre- 
 vent my departure, I would be disappointed, though 
 I do not want to go. It would be unpleasant, for 
 instance, to pack all I own in my trunk, and just as 
 I place the key in my pocket to hear the shriek of 
 "Van Dorn!" raised again. This time it is to be 
 Ruggles, though. I would not mind if he came before 
 I was packed. Besides, even if I miss the fun here, 
 they say the boats are fired into from Plaquemine; 
 and then I have the pleasure of being in a fight 
 anyhow. Mother is alarmed about that part of my 
 voyage, but Miriam and I persuaded her it is noth- 
 ing. 
 
 If I was a man — oh, would n't I be in Richmond 
 119 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with the boys! . . . What is the use of all these 
 worthless women, in war times? If they attack, I 
 shall don the breeches, and join the assailants, and 
 fight, though I think they would be hopeless fools 
 to attempt to capture a town they could not hold for 
 ten minutes under the gunboats. How do breeches 
 and coats feel, I wonder? I am actually afraid of 
 them. I kept a suit of Jimmy's hanging in the 
 armoir for six weeks waiting for the Yankees to 
 come, thinking fright would give me courage to try it 
 (what a seeming paradox!), but I never succeeded. 
 Lilly one day insisted on my trying it, and I advanced 
 so far as to lay it on the bed, and then carried my 
 bird out — I was ashamed to let even my canary 
 see me ; — but when I took a second look, my cour- 
 age deserted me, and there ended my first and last 
 attempt at disguise. I have heard so many girls 
 boast of having worn men's clothes ; I wonder where 
 they get the courage. 
 
 To think half the men in town sat up all night in 
 expectation of a stampede, while we poor women 
 slept serenely ! Everybody is digging pits to hide in 
 when the ball opens. The Days have dug a tremen- 
 dous one ; the Wolffs, Sheppers, and some fifty others 
 have taken the same precaution. They may as well 
 dig their graves at once; what if a tremendous shell 
 should burst over them, and bury in the dirt those 
 who were not killed ? Oh, no ! let me see all the danger, 
 and the way it is coming, at once. To-morrow, — or 
 day after, — in case no unexpected little incident 
 
 1 20 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 occurs in the interval, I purpose going to New Or- 
 leans, taking father's papers and part of Miriam's 
 and mother's valuables for safe-keeping. I hate to 
 go, but they all think I should, as it will be one less 
 to look after if we are shelled — which I doubt. I 
 don't know that I require much protection, but I 
 might as well be agreeable and go. Ouf ! how I will 
 grow homesick, before I am out of sight! 
 
 Midnight. 
 Here we go, sure enough. At precisely eleven 
 o'clock, while we were enjoying our first dreams, we 
 were startled by the long roll which was beat half a 
 square below us. At first I only repeated "The roll 
 of the drum," without an idea connected with it; but 
 hearing the soldiers running, in another instant I 
 was up, and was putting on my stockings when 
 Miriam ran in, in her nightgown. The children were 
 roused and dressed quickly, and it did not take us 
 many instants to prepare, — the report of two shots, 
 and the tramp of soldiers, cries of "Double-quick," 
 and sound as of cannon moving, rather hastening 
 our movements. Armoirs, bureaus, and everything 
 else were thrown open, and Miriam and I hastily 
 packed our sacks with any articles that came to 
 hand, having previously taken the precaution to put 
 on everything fresh from the armoir. We have saved 
 what we can ; but I find myself obliged to leave one 
 of my new muslins I had just finished, as it occupied 
 more room than I can afford, the body of my lovely 
 
 121 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lilac, and my beauteous white mull. But then, I have 
 saved eight half-made linen chemises! that will be 
 better than the outward show. 
 
 Here comes an alarm of fire — at least a dreadful 
 odor of burning cotton which has set everybody 
 wild with fear that conflagration is to be added to 
 these horrors. The cavalry swept past on their way 
 to the river ten minutes ago, and here comes the 
 news that the gunboats are drawing up their an- 
 chors and making ready. Well! here an hour has 
 passed ; suppose they do not come after all ? I have 
 been watching two sentinels at the corner, who are 
 singing and dancing in the gayest way. One reminds 
 me of Gibbes; I have seen him dance that way often. 
 I was glad to see a good-humored man again. I wish 
 I was in bed. I am only sitting up to satisfy my con- 
 science, for I have long since ceased to expect a real 
 bombardment. If it must come, let it be now; I 
 am tired of waiting. A crowd of women have sought 
 the protection of the gunboats. I am distressed 
 about the Brunots; suppose they did not hear the 
 noise? O girls ! if I was a man, I wonder what would 
 induce me to leave you four lone, unprotected women 
 sleeping in that house, unconscious of all this? Is 
 manhood a dream that is past? Is humanity an idle 
 name? Fatherless, brotherless girls, if I was honored 
 with the title of Man, I do believe I would be fool 
 enough to run around and wake you, at least! Not 
 another word, though. I shall go mad with rage and 
 disgust. I am going to bed. This must be a humbug. 
 
 122 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Morgan came running in, once more in his night- 
 gear, begging Lilly to hear his prayers. In answer to 
 her "Why? You have said them to-night!" he says, 
 "Yes! but I've been getting up so often!" Poor 
 child ! no wonder he is perplexed ! 
 
 One hour and a half of this nonsense, and no result 
 known. We are told the firing commenced, and the 
 pickets were driven in, twenty minutes before the 
 
 long roll beat. 
 
 July 2 1 st. 
 
 It is impossible to discover the true story of last 
 night's alarm. Some say it was a gang of negroes who 
 attacked the pickets in revenge for having been 
 turned out of the Garrison ; others say it was a number 
 of our soldiers who fired from the bushes ; and the most 
 amusing story is that they took alarm at an old white 
 horse, which they killed, mistaking him for the Con- 
 federates. One regiment has refused to do picket 
 duty; and the story runs among these poor soldiers 
 that our army, which is within a mile, is perfectly 
 overwhelming. The excitement still continues. 
 
 I have been writing to the Brunots the news con- 
 firming the death of McClellan, the surrender of his 
 army, and the good tidings of our Ram's recent ex- 
 ploits above Vicksburg, and her arriving safely 
 under the guns there. If we could keep all the dis- 
 patches that have passed between us since the battle 
 of the forts, what a collection of absurdity and con- 
 tradiction it would be! "Forts have been taken." 
 "Their ships have passed ; forts safe; Yankees at our 
 
 123 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 mercy." "Ships at New Orleans. City to be bom- 
 barded in twelve hours." "Forts surrendered." "City 
 under British protection." "No, it is n't." "City 
 surrendered." "Mistake." "Baton Rouge to be 
 burned when Yankee ships come." And soon, some- 
 times three times a day, each dispatch contradicting 
 the other, and all equally ridiculous. 
 
 The crowd here seems to increase. The streets are 
 thronged with the military, and it will soon be im- 
 possible to go even to Mrs. Brunot's, which will be 
 a great privation to me. . . . Five thousand are to 
 come next week, and then it will really be impossible 
 to go in the streets. 
 
 July 22d, Tuesday. 
 
 Another such day, and there is the end of me! 
 Charlie decided to send Lilly and the children into 
 the country early to-morrow morning, and get them 
 safely out of this doomed town. Mother, Miriam, 
 and I were to remain here alone. Take the children 
 away, and I can stand whatever is to come; but this 
 constant alarm, with five babies in the house, is too 
 much for any of us. So we gladly packed their trunks 
 and got them ready, and then news came pouring in. 
 
 First a negro man just from the country told Lilly 
 that our soldiers were swarming out there, that he 
 had never seen so many men. Then Dena wrote us 
 that a Mrs. Bryan had received a letter from her 
 son, praying her not to be in Baton Rouge after Wed- 
 nesday morning, as they were to attack to-morrow. 
 Then a man came to Charlie, and told him that 
 
 124 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 though he was on parole, yet as a Mason he must beg 
 him not to let his wife sleep in town to-night; to get 
 her away before sunset. But it is impossible for her 
 to start before morning. Hearing so many rumors, all 
 pointing to the same time, we began to believe there 
 might be some danger; so I packed all necessary 
 clothing that could be dispensed with now in a large 
 trunk for mother, Miriam, and me, and got it ready 
 to send out in the country to Mrs. Williams. All told, 
 I have but eight dresses left ; so I '11 have to be partic- 
 ular. I am wealthy, compared to what I would have 
 been Sunday night, for then I had but two in my 
 sack, and now I have my best in the trunk. If the 
 attack comes before the trunk gets off, or if the trunk 
 is lost, we will verily be beggars; for I pack well, and 
 it contains everything of any value in clothing. 
 
 The excitement is on the increase, I think. Every- 
 body is crazy to leave town. 
 
 Thursday, July 24th. 
 
 Yes; that must be the date, for one day and two 
 nights have passed since I was writing here. Where 
 shall I begin the story of my wanderings? I don't 
 know that it has a beginning, it is all so hurried and 
 confused. 
 
 But it was Tuesday evening that the Federals 
 were seized with a panic which threw the whole town 
 in alarm. They said our troops were within eight 
 miles, ten thousand in number. The report was even 
 started that the advance guard was skirmishing with 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the Federals ; the shots were heard distinctly, a dozen 
 people were ready to swear. The Yankees struck 
 their tents, galloped with their cannon through the 
 streets with the most terrific din, troops passed at 
 double-quick on their way to the Garrison, every- 
 thing was confusion. Mr. Tunnard told us yester- 
 day he was present when part of them reached the 
 gate of the Garrison, and saw one of the officers spring 
 forward, waving his sword, and heard him cry, 
 "Trot, men! Gallop, I say! Damn you! run in!" — 
 with a perfect yell at the close ; whereupon all lookers- 
 on raised a shout of laughter, for the man was 
 frightened out of his wits. A Federal officer told him 
 that their fright was really a disgrace; and if one 
 thousand of our men had come in town, the whole 
 thirty-five hundred would have been at their 
 mercy. Even the naval officers denounce it as a most 
 arrant piece of cowardice; for instead of marching 
 their troops out to meet ours, they all rushed into 
 the Garrison, where, if attacked, their only retreat 
 would have been into the river. The gunboats were 
 ordered into the middle of the stream, in front of the 
 Garrison; and cooped up there, these valiant men 
 awaited the assault in such trepidation that yester- 
 day they freely said the force could be purchased for 
 fifty cents, they are so ashamed of their panic. 
 
 Imagine what effect this had on the inhabitants! 
 Soon, an exodus took place, in the direction of the 
 Asylum, and we needs must follow the general 
 example and run, too. In haste we packed a trunk 
 
 126 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with our remaining clothes, — what we could get 
 in, — and the greatest confusion prevailed for an 
 hour. Beatrice had commenced to cry early in the 
 evening, and redoubled her screams when she saw 
 the preparations ; and Louis joining in, they cried in 
 concert until eight o'clock, when we finally got off. 
 What a din ! Lilly looked perfectly exhausted ; that 
 look on her face made me heartsick. Miriam flew 
 around everywhere; mother always had one more 
 article to find, and the noise was dreadful, when 
 white and black assembled in the hall ready at last. 
 Charlie placed half of the trunks on the dray, leav- 
 ing the rest for another trip; and we at last started 
 off. Besides the inevitable running-bag, tied to my 
 waist, on this stifling night I had my sunbonnet, veil, 
 comb, toothbrush, cabas filled with dozens of small 
 articles, and dagger to carry; and then my heart 
 failed me when I thought of my guitar, so I caught 
 it up in the case; and remembering father's heavy 
 inkstand, I seized that, too, with two fans. If I was 
 asked what I did with all these things, I could not 
 answer. Certain it is I had every one in my hands, 
 and was not very ridiculous to behold. 
 
 Seventeen in number, counting white and black, 
 our procession started off, each loaded in their own 
 way. The soldiers did not scruple to laugh at us. 
 Those who were still waiting in front of the churches 
 to be removed laughed heartily, and cried, "Hello! 
 Where are you going? Running? Good-bye!" 
 Fortunately they could not see our faces, for it was 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 very dark. One stopped us under a lamp-post and 
 wanted us to go back. He said he knew we were to 
 be attacked, for the Confederates were within five 
 miles ; but we were as safe at home as at the Asylum. 
 He was a very handsome, respectable-looking man, 
 though dirty, as Yankee soldiers always are, and in 
 his shirt-sleeves besides. We thanked him for his 
 kindness, and went on. All stopped at the Brunots', 
 to see that they were ready to fly ; but the two parties 
 were so tremendous that we gladly divided, and 
 Miriam and I remained with them until they could 
 get ready, while our detachment went on. 
 
 Wagons, carts, every vehicle imaginable, passed 
 on to places of safety, loaded with valuables, while 
 women and children hurried on, on foot. It took 
 the Brunots as long to prepare as it did us. I had to 
 drag Sophie out of her bed, where she threw herself, 
 vowing she would not run ; and after an interminable 
 length of time, we were at last ready and started, 
 with the addition of Mrs. Loucks and her sons in our 
 train. The volunteer, whose sole duty seems to be to 
 watch the Brunots, met us as we got out. He stopped 
 as he met the first, looked in silence until Sophie and 
 I passed, and then burst out laughing. No wonder! 
 What a walk it was! Nobody hesitated to laugh, 
 even though they meant to run themselves, and we 
 made fun of each other, too, so our walk was merry 
 enough. 
 
 When we reached there, the Asylum was already 
 crowded — at least, it would have been a crowd in 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 any other place, though a mere handful in such a 
 building. The whole house was illuminated, up to 
 the fifth story, and we were most graciously received 
 by the director, who had thrown the whole house 
 open to whoever chose to come, and exerted himself 
 to be accommodating. It looked like a tremendous 
 hotel where every one is at home; not a servant or 
 one of the deaf and dumb children was to be seen; 
 we had all the lower story to ourselves. Was n't it 
 pleasant to unload, and deposit all things in a place 
 of safety! It was a great relief. Then we five girls 
 walked on the splendid balcony which goes around 
 the house until we could no longer walk, when I 
 amused myself by keeping poor Sophie standing, 
 since she would not sit down like a Christian, but 
 insisted on going to bed like a lazy girl, as she is. 
 When I finally let her go, it did not take her many 
 minutes to undress, and soon we were all ready for 
 bed. The Brunots had beds on the parlor floor ; across 
 the wide hall, we had a room opposite; and next to 
 ours, Lilly and the children were all sleeping soundly. 
 I ran the blockade of the hall in my nightgown, and 
 had a splendid romp with the girls after rolling 
 Sophie out of bed, and jerking Nettie up. Mother 
 and Mrs. Brunot cried, " Order," laughing, but they 
 came in for their share of the sport, until an admiring 
 crowd of females at the door told us by their amused 
 faces they were enjoying it, too; so I ran the gaunt- 
 let again, and got safely through the hall, and after 
 a few more inroads, in one of which Miriam accom- 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 panied me, and on which occasion I am sure we were 
 seen in our nightgowns, we finally went to bed. I 
 won't say went to sleep, for I did not pretend to doze. 
 All our side of the house had bars, except me ; and the 
 mosquitoes were unendurable; so I watched mother 
 and Miriam in their downy slumbers and lay on my 
 hard bed for hours, fighting the torments with bare 
 arms. 
 
 Every now and then I heard a stir among the fe- 
 males above, indicating that some few were antici- 
 pating a panic. Once they took a rush from the fourth 
 story, and cried they heard the cannon ; twenty guns 
 had been fired, etc. I lay still, determined not to 
 believe it; and presently all subsided. I lay there for 
 hours longer, it seemed, when Nettie at last wandered 
 in disconsolate to find if we were asleep; for with the 
 exception of Sophie, they, too, had been awake all 
 night. I went to the parlor with her, when she, 
 Dena, and I, decided to dress at once and sit on the 
 balcony, since sleep was hopeless. Behold me in a 
 blue muslin flounced to the waist, with a cape, too ! 
 What a running costume! Miriam only had time to 
 take off her white dress before starting. All dressed, 
 we went to the northwest corner, as far as possible 
 from the rest of the household, and sat in a splendid 
 breeze for hours. It was better than fighting in- 
 satiable mosquitoes ; so there we sat talking through 
 the greater part of a night which seemed to have 
 borrowed a few additional hours for] our benefit. 
 We'll have no Leap Year in '64; the twenty-four 
 
 130 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 extra hours were crowded in on 'that occasion, I 
 think. 
 
 We discussed our favorite books, characters, au- 
 thors, repeated scraps here and there of the mock 
 sentimental, talked of how we would one day like to 
 travel, and where we would go; discussed love and 
 marriage, and came to the conclusion neither was 
 the jest it was thought to be. (O wise young women !) 
 Poor Nettie retired in despair, and we two watched 
 alone for hours longer. The sun must have been ar- 
 rested by some Joshua on the road ; could n't make me 
 believe it was doing its duty as usual. We wandered 
 around the balconies, through the grounds in the 
 dim starlight (for it was cloudy), and finally, be- 
 holding a faint promise of morning, sat still and 
 waited for the coming of the lazy sun. What was 
 still more aggravating was that every time we looked 
 in at the others showed them sleeping peacefully. 
 Miriam lay her full length with outstretched arms, 
 the picture of repose, looking so comfortable! When 
 the sun finally made his appearance (he was out on a 
 spree, I found, for his eyes were not half opened, 
 and he looked dull and heavy as he peeped from be- 
 hind his bed curtains), others began to stir, and in 
 an hour more, we were ready to leave. Those who 
 had slept, came out with swelled eyes and drowsy 
 looks; while we three, who had been up all night, 
 were perfectly calm, though rather pale; but I am 
 seldom otherwise. 
 
 Were we not thankful to see home still standing ! 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I did not feel tired much, but somehow, when it 
 struck half-past six, and I found myself alone here 
 (Miriam having stopped at Mrs. Day's), I suddenly 
 found myself divested of my flounces, and most other 
 articles, and involuntarily going towards the bed. I 
 could not sleep, wasn't thinking of such a thing; 
 meant to — there was an end of my soliloquy ! 
 Where I went, I don't know. As the clock struck 
 eight, I got up as unaccountably, and discovered I 
 had lost all idea of time in sleep. If it had not been 
 for the clock, I should have said I had slept a day 
 and a night, and it was now Thursday morning. A 
 giant refreshed, I rose from my slumbers, took a hasty 
 cup of coffee, and set to work packing Lilly's trunk, for 
 I was crazy to see the children off as soon as possible. 
 It was no short work, but we all hurried, said good- 
 bye, and saw them go with a feeling of relief. By 
 the experience of the night before, we knew that 
 when the real moment came it would be impossible 
 to get them off in time to escape danger. Poor Lilly ! 
 we miss her sadly; but are thankful to know that she 
 is out of danger with her poor little children. She 
 looked heartbroken at the idea of leaving us alone; 
 but then, when one weak woman has five small 
 babies to take care of, is it fair to impose three big 
 ones on her? I 'd never stay here, if she sacrificed 
 her children to take care of us who need no protection. 
 I was very lazy after they left ; and sat reading until 
 a note was brought from Charlie saying they were 
 safe beyond the lines. 
 
 132 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Last night came another alarm. Some fifty can- 
 non were fired somewhere above, reports came that 
 a body of our troops were a few miles out, so a thou- 
 sand of these men took courage and went out to 
 reconnoitre. Mrs. Brunot and mother insisted on 
 going again to the Asylum for protection against 
 the coming attack, though we at first begged and 
 pleaded to stay at home. But we had to follow, and 
 I don't think any of us were in the best of humors, 
 as we were all conscious of doing a foolish thing. 
 
 We were cordially received again, and got quite 
 gay. Sleeping accommodations no better than be- 
 fore, as far as I was concerned. Sophie, Miriam, and 
 I had but one bar between us, so we placed two 
 mattresses side by side, and by dint of chairs and 
 strings, stretched the net as far as possible over 
 them. Those two were well enough ; but to my share 
 fell a baby's mattress two feet by four, placed be- 
 tween the wall and the other great bed, with the end 
 of the bar a foot above my face, and one sheet to 
 do the duty of two — however, they had only one, 
 also. Well! I believe I am tall, so my bed did not 
 fit me. As it was two inches higher than theirs, there 
 was no sharing. In spite of a heavy rain that was 
 now pouring, my warm place was intolerable, and 
 the perspiration streamed from my face so as to be 
 disagreeable, to say the least. It drove me to walk 
 in my sleep, I am afraid, for I have an indistinct 
 recollection of finding myself standing at the window 
 trying to breathe. It was a very, very little piece of 
 
 ,133 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 sleep I got after all, and that little by no means 
 refreshing. 
 
 Up at sunrise again, but it took some time to get 
 ready, for I had to get some clothes out of the trunk, 
 to send home. Well, ever since I reached here I have 
 been writing, and I am ashamed to say how long it is. 
 As the time grows more exciting, my book grows 
 shorter, to my great distress. What will I do? 
 
 We all vowed that would be the last time we would 
 run until we heard the cannon, or had some better 
 reason than a Yankee panic to believe the Confed- 
 erates were coming ; though if we listened to mother, 
 she would go there every night if this lasted for a 
 whole year. Kind Phillie Nolan wrote insisting on 
 our staying with them on the plantation until it 
 was over, but we cannot do it ; the time is too uncer- 
 tain ; if we knew it was to come this week, we might 
 stay that long with her; but to go for an indefinite 
 period, Miriam and I would not hear of. 
 
 I have kept for the last a piece of news I received 
 with thankfulness, when I finally heard it; for, though 
 known to the whole family and all the town on 
 Tuesday night, no one thought it worth while to 
 tell me until I heard it by accident last evening. It 
 was that a Mr. Bell, writing to his wife, says Gibbes 
 asked him to send word to mother that he, George, 
 and Jimmy were in the fight of the ioth and nth, 
 and all safe. God be praised! 
 
 July 25th. 
 
 An old gentleman stopped here just now in a 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 carriage and asked to see me. Such a sad, sick old 
 man ! He said his name was Caldwell, and that pass- 
 ing through East Feliciana, Mrs. Flynn had asked 
 him to deliver a message to us. Had we heard from 
 our brothers? I told him the message from Mr. Bell. 
 He commenced crying. There was one of them, he 
 said, who got hurt. I held my breath and looked at 
 him. He cried more still, and said yes, it was Gibbes 
 — in the hand — not dangerous — but — Here I 
 thought he meant to tell me worse; perhaps he was 
 dead; but I could not speak, so he went on saying 
 Lydia and the General had gone on to Richmond in- 
 stantly, and had probably reached there before to- 
 day. He took so long to tell it, and he cried so, that 
 I was alarmed, until I thought perhaps he had lost 
 one of his own sons; but I dared not ask him. Just 
 then one of the horses fell down with sunstroke, and 
 I begged the old gentleman to come in and rest until 
 they could raise the horse; but he said no, he must 
 go on to the river. He looked so sick that I could 
 not help saying he looked too unwell to go beyond, 
 and I wished he would come in. But he burst into 
 tears, saying, " Yes, my child, I am very, very sick, 
 but I must go on." Poor old man, with his snow- 
 white beard ! 
 
 July 27th. 
 
 I have my bird back! As I waked this morning, 
 I heard a well-known chirp in the streets, and called 
 to mother I knew it was Jimmy. Sure enough it is 
 my bird. Lucy Daigre has had him ever since the 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 shelling, as a negro caught it that day and gave it 
 
 to her. 
 
 July 29th. 
 
 This town, with its ten thousand soldiers, is more 
 quiet than it was with the old population of seven 
 thousand citizens. With this tremendous addition, 
 it is like a graveyard in its quiet, at times. These 
 poor soldiers are dying awfully. Thirteen went yes- 
 terday. On Sunday the boats discharged hundreds 
 of sick at our landing. Some lay there all the after- 
 noon in the hot sun, waiting for the wagon to carry 
 them to the hospital, which task occupied the whole 
 evening. In the mean time these poor wretches lay 
 uncovered on the ground, in every stage of sickness. 
 Cousin Will saw one lying dead without a creature 
 by to notice when he died. Another was dying, and 
 muttering to himself as he lay too far gone to brush 
 the flies out of his eyes and mouth, while no one was 
 able to do it for him. Cousin Will helped him, 
 though. Another, a mere skeleton, lay in the agonies 
 of death, too; but he evidently had kind friends, for 
 several were gathered around holding him up, and 
 fanning him, while his son leaned over him crying 
 aloud. Tiche says it was dreadful to hear the poor 
 boy's sobs. All day our vis-d-vis, Baumstark, with 
 his several aids, plies his hammer; all day Sunday 
 he made coffins, and says he can't make them fast 
 enough. Think, too, he is by no means the only 
 undertaker here! Oh, I wish these poor men were 
 safe in their own land ! It is heartbreaking to see them 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 die here like dogs, with no one to say Godspeed. 
 The Catholic priest went to see some, sometime ago, 
 and going near one who lay in bed, said some kind 
 thing, when the man burst into tears and cried, 
 "Thank God, I have heard one kind word before I 
 die!" In a few minutes the poor wretch was dead. 
 
 July 31st. 
 
 I believe I forgot to mention one little circumstance 
 in my account of that first night at the Deaf and 
 Dumb Asylum, which at the time struck me with 
 extreme disgust. That was seeing more than one 
 man who had no females or babies to look after, who 
 sought there a refuge from the coming attack. At 
 daylight, one dapper young man, in fashionable 
 array, came stepping lightly on the gallery, carrying 
 a neat carpet-bag in his hand. I hardly think he ex- 
 pected to meet two young ladies at that hour; I 
 shall always believe he meant to creep away before 
 any one was up ; for he certainly looked embarrassed 
 when we looked up, though he assumed an air of 
 indifference, and passed by bravely swinging his 
 sack — but I think he wanted us to believe he was 
 not ashamed. I dare say it was some little clerk in 
 his holiday attire; but I can't say what contempt I 
 felt for the creature. 
 
 Honestly, I believe the women of the South are as 
 brave as the men who are fighting, and certainly 
 braver than the "Home Guard." I have not yet been 
 able to coax myself into being as alarmed as many 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I could name are. They say it is because I do not 
 know the danger. Soit. I prefer being brave through 
 ignorance, to being afraid in consequence of my 
 knowledge of coming events. Thank Heaven, my 
 brothers are the bravest of the brave! I would 
 despise them if they shrunk back, though Lucifer 
 should dispute the path with them. Well! All men 
 are not Morgan boys! They tell me cowards actu- 
 ally exist, though I hope I never met one. The poor 
 men that went to the Asylum for safety might not 
 have what Lavinia calls "a moral backbone." No 
 wonder, then, they tumbled in there ! Besides, I am 
 told half the town spent the night on the banks of the 
 river, on that occasion; and perhaps these unfortu- 
 nates were subject to colds, and preferred the shelter 
 of a good roof. Poor little fellows ! How I longed to 
 give them my hoops, corsets, and pretty blue 
 organdie in exchange for their boots and breeches! 
 Only I thought it was dangerous; for suppose the 
 boots had been so used to running that they should 
 prance off with me, too? Why, it would ruin my rep- 
 utation! Miss Morgan in petticoats is thought to be 
 "as brave as any other man"; but these borrowed 
 articles might make her fly as fast "as any other 
 man," too, if panic is contagious, as the Yankees 
 here have proved. One consolation is, that all who 
 could go with any propriety, and all who were worthy 
 of fighting, among those who believed in the South, 
 are off at the seat of war; it is only trash, and those 
 who are obliged to remain for private reasons, who 
 
 138 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary ' 
 
 still remain. Let us count those young individuals 
 
 as trash, and step over them. Only ask Heaven why 
 
 you were made with a man's heart, and a female 
 
 form, and those creatures with beards were made as 
 
 bewitchingly nervous? 
 
 August 2d, Saturday. 
 
 I had thought my running days were over; so 
 little did I anticipate another stampede that I did 
 not notice the report of the attack that was prophe- 
 sied for night before last, and went to bed without 
 gathering my clothes. But to-day comes a hasty 
 note from Charlie, telling us to leave instantly as 
 General Breckinridge is advancing with ten thou- 
 sand men to attack us, and at 12 M. yesterday was 
 within thirty-four miles. He begged us to leave to- 
 day ; there would be trouble before to-morrow night. 
 It was so earnest, and he asserted all so positively, 
 that we are going to Phillie's this evening to stay a 
 week, as they say eight days will decide. Ah, me! 
 our beautiful town! Still I am skeptical. If it must 
 be, pray Heaven that the blow comes now ! Nothing 
 can be equal to suspense. These poor men ! Are they 
 not dying fast enough? Will Baumstark have orders 
 for an unlimited supply of coffins next week? Only 
 Charlie's family, ours, and the Brunots know it. 
 He enjoined the strictest secrecy, though the Brunots 
 sent to swear Mrs. Loucks in, as she, like ourselves, 
 has no protector. I would like to tell everybody; 
 but it will warn the Federals. I almost wish we, too, 
 had been left in ignorance; it is cruel to keep it to 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ourselves. I believe the Yankees expect something; 
 "they say " they have armed fifteen hundred negroes. 
 Foes and insurrection in town, assailing friends out- 
 side. — Nice time ! 
 
 Our cavalry has passed the Amite. Poor Charlie 
 has come all the way to the ferry landing on the other 
 side to warn us. If we do not take advantage, it 
 will not be for want of knowing what is to come. 
 How considerate it was in him to come such a long 
 way ! I am charmingly excited ! If I only had a pair 
 of breeches, my happiness would be complete. Let 
 it come! I lose all, but in Heaven's name let us have 
 it over at once ! My heart fails when I look around, 
 but "Spit fire!" and have an end to this at once! 
 Liberty forever, though death be the penalty. 
 
 Treason ! Here lies my pass at my elbow, in which 
 has been gratuitously inserted that " Parties holding 
 it are considered to give their parole not to give in- 
 formation, countenance, aid, or support to the so- 
 called Confed. S. " As I did not apply for it, agree 
 to the stipulation, or think it by any means proper, 
 I don't consider it binding. I could not give my word 
 for doing what my conscience tells me is Right. I 
 cross with this book full of treason. It "counte- 
 nances" the C. S.; shall I burn it? That is a stupid 
 ruse ; they are too wise to ask you to subscribe to it, 
 
 they just append it. 
 
 August 3d, Westover. 
 
 Enfin nous sommes arrivees! And after what a 
 trip! As we reached the ferry, I discovered I had lost 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the pass, and had to walk back and search for it, 
 aided by Mr. Tunnard, who met me in my distress, 
 as it has always been his luck to do. But somebody 
 had already adopted the valuable trifle, so I had to 
 rejoin mother and Miriam without it. The guard 
 resolutely refused to let us pass until we got another, 
 so off flew Mr. Tunnard to procure a second — which 
 was vastly agreeable, as I knew he would have to 
 pay twenty-five cents for it, Yankees having come 
 down as low as that, to procure money. But he had 
 gone before we could say anything, and soon returned 
 with the two-bits' worth of leave of absence. Then 
 we crossed the river in a little skiff after sundown, in 
 a most unpleasant state of uncertainty as to whether 
 the carriage was waiting at the landing for us, for I 
 did not know if Phillie had received my note, and 
 there was no place to go if she had not sent for us. 
 However, we found it waiting, and leaving mother 
 and Miriam to pay the ferry, I walked on to put our 
 bundles in the carriage. A man stepped forward, 
 calling me by name and giving me a note from 
 Charlie before I reached it ; and as I placed my foot 
 on the step, another came up and told me he had left 
 a letter at home for me at one o'clock. I bowed Yes 
 (it was from Howell; must answer to-morrow). He 
 asked me not to mention it was "him" ; a little serv- 
 ant had asked his name, but he told her it was none 
 of her business. I laughed at the refined remark, and 
 said I had not known who it was — he would hardly 
 have been flattered to hear I had not even inquired. 
 
 141 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary ' 
 
 He modestly said that he was afraid I had seen him 
 through the window. Oh, no ! I assured him. "Well, 
 please, anyhow, don't say it's me!" he pleaded most 
 grammatically. I answered, smiling, " I did not know 
 who it was then, I know no more now, and if you 
 choose, I shall always remain in ignorance of t your 
 identity. "He burst out laughing, and went off with, 
 "Oh, do, Miss Morgan, forget all about me!" as 
 though it was a difficult matter! Who can he be? 
 
 We had a delightful drive in the moonlight, 
 though it was rather long; and it was quite late when 
 we drove up to the house, and were most cordially 
 welcomed by the family. We sat up late on the bal- 
 cony listening for the report of cannon, which, how- 
 ever, did not come. Baton Rouge is to be attacked 
 to-morrow, "they say." Pray Heaven it will all be 
 over by that time ! Nobody seems to doubt it, over 
 here. A while ago a long procession of guerrillas 
 passed a short distance from the house, looking for a 
 party of Yankees they heard of in the neighborhood, 
 and waved their hats, for lack of handkerchiefs, to 
 us as we stood on the balcony. 
 
 I call this writing under difficulties! Here I am em- 
 ploying my knee as a desk, a position that is not very 
 natural to me, and by no means comfortable. I feel 
 so stupid, from want of sleep last night, that no won- 
 der I am not even respectably bright. I think I shall 
 lay aside this diary with my pen. I have procured 
 a nicer one, so I no longer regret its close. What a 
 stupid thing it is! As I look back, how faintly have 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I expressed things that produced the greatest im- 
 pression on me at the time, and how completely have 
 I omitted the very things I should have recorded! 
 Bah ! it is all the same trash ! And here is an end of 
 it — for this volume, whose stupidity can only be 
 equaled by the one that precedes, and the one that 
 is to follow it. But who expects to be interesting in 
 war times? If I kept a diary of events, it would be 
 one tissue of lies. Think! There was no battle on 
 the ioth or nth, McClellan is not dead, and Gibbes 
 was never wounded! After that, who believes in 
 reliable information? Not I! 
 
BOOK III 
 
 Westover, 
 
 Monday, August 4th, 1862. 
 
 Here we are at Dr. Nolan's plantation, with Baton 
 Rouge lying just seven miles from us to the east. We 
 can surely hear the cannon from here. They are all 
 so kind to us that I ought to be contented; but still 
 I wish I was once more at home. I suppose it is very 
 unreasonable in me, but I cannot help it. I miss my 
 old desk very much ; it is so awkward to write on my 
 knee that I cannot get used to it. Mine is a nice 
 little room upstairs, detached from all the rest, for 
 it is formed by a large dormer window looking to 
 the north, from which I have seen a large number of 
 guerrillas passing and repassing in their rough cos- 
 tumes, constantly. I enjoy the fresh air, and all 
 that, but pleasant as it is, I wish I was at home and 
 all the fuss was over. Virginia Nolan and Miriam 
 are already equipped in their riding costumes, so I 
 must lay this down and get ready to join them in a 
 scamper across the fields. How delighted I will be 
 
 to get on a horse again. 
 
 August 5th. 
 
 About half-past nine, as we got up from the break- 
 fast table, a guerrilla told us the ram Arkansas was 
 lying a few miles below, on her way to cooperate 
 with Breckinridge, whose advance guard had already 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 driven the pickets into Baton Rouge. Then we all 
 grew wild with excitement. 
 
 Such exclamations! such delight that the dread- 
 ful moment had at last arrived ! And yet you could 
 see each stop as we rejoiced, to offer up a prayer for 
 the preservation of those who were risking their 
 lives at that moment. Reason, and all else, was 
 thrown aside, and we determined to participate in 
 the danger, if there was any to be incurred. Mother 
 threatened us with shot and shell and bloody murder, 
 but the loud report of half a dozen cannon in slow 
 succession only made us more determined to see the 
 fun, so Lilly Nolan and Miss Walters got on horse- 
 back, and Phillie, Ginnie, Miriam, and I started off 
 in the broiling sun, leaving word for the carriage to 
 overtake us. When we once got in, the driver, being 
 as crazy as we, fairly made his horses run along the 
 road to catch a glimpse of our Ram. When, miles 
 below, she came in sight, we could no longer remain 
 in the carriage, but mounted the levee, and ran along 
 on foot until we reached her, when we crossed to 
 the outer levee, and there she lay at our feet. 
 
 And nothing in her after all ! There lay a heavy, 
 clumsy, rusty, ugly flatboat with a great square box 
 in the centre, while great cannon put their noses out 
 at the sides, and in front. The decks were crowded 
 with men, rough and dirty, jabbering and hastily 
 eating their breakfast. That was the great Arkansas ! 
 God bless and protect her, and the brave men she 
 carries. 
 
 145 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 While there, a young man came up, and in answer 
 to Phillie's inquiries about her father — who, hav- 
 ing gone to town yesterday to report, being paroled, 
 had written last night to say no passes were granted 
 to leave town — the young fellow informed her so 
 pleasantly that her father was a prisoner, held as 
 hostage for Mr. Castle. Poor Phillie had to cry; so, 
 to be still more agreeable, he told her, Yes, he had 
 been sent to a boat lying at the landing, and ran the 
 greatest risk, as the ram would probably sink the said 
 boat in a few hours. How I hated the fool for his 
 relish of evil tidings! 
 
 But never mind our wild expedition, or what came 
 of it. Am I not patient ! Ever since I commenced to 
 write, the sound of a furious bombardment has been 
 ringing in my ears ; and beyond an occasional run to 
 see the shells fly through the air (their white smoke, 
 rather) I have not said a word of it. The girls have 
 all crowded on the little balcony up here, towards 
 town, and their shrieks of "There it goes!" "Lis- 
 ten!" "Look at them!" rise above the sound of the 
 cannon, and occasionally draw me out, too. But I sit 
 here listening, and wonder which report precedes the 
 knocking down of our home; which shell is killing 
 some one I know and love. Poor Tiche and Dophy ! 
 — where are they? And oh, I hope they did not leave 
 my birdie Jimmy to die in his cage. I charged them 
 to let him loose if they could not carry him. Dophy 
 will be so frightened. I hope they are out of danger. 
 Oh, my dear home! shall I ever see you again? And 
 
 146 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the Brunots! Oh, how I hope they are safe. These 
 loud cannon make me heartsick, and yet I am so 
 excited ! How rapidly they answer each other ! I am 
 told the attack commenced at five this morning, 
 and lasted three hours. Those girls are shouting that 
 Baton Rouge must be on fire, from the volume of 
 smoke in that direction. How they scream as the 
 balls go up, to show it to each other. I think I'll 
 take a look, too. 
 
 We are all going four or five miles through this 
 
 warm sun to be nearer the scene of action. Any one 
 
 might know there was no white man on the premises. 
 
 There is the carriage! Oh, I am so seasick! What will 
 
 I be before we get back? 
 
 August 6th. 
 
 We six madcaps got in the carriage and buggy, and 
 rode off in search of news. We took a quantity of old 
 linen rags along, and during the whole drive, our 
 fingers were busy making lint. Once we stopped at a 
 neighbor's to gather the news, but that did not 
 interfere with our labors at all. Four miles from here 
 we met a crowd of women flying, and among them 
 recognized Mrs. La Noue and Noemie. A good deal 
 of loud shouting brought them to the carriage in 
 great surprise to see us there. They were running 
 from the plantation where they had taken refuge, as 
 it was not safe from the shells, as the gunboats had 
 proved to them. The reports we had heard in the 
 morning were from shots fired on this side of the river 
 
 147 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 by them, in hopes of hurting a guerrilla or two. 
 No6mie told us that two Western regiments had laid 
 down their arms, and General Williams had been 
 killed by his own men. She looked so delighted, and 
 yet it made me sick to think of his having been 
 butchered so. Phillie leaned out, and asked her, as 
 she asked everybody, if she knew anything about her 
 father. Noemie, in her rapture over that poor man's 
 death, exclaimed, "Don't know a word about him! 
 know Williams was cut to pieces, though!" — and 
 that is all we could learn from her. 
 
 We went on until we came in sight of Baton Rouge. 
 There it stood, looking so beautiful against the black, 
 lowering sky that I could not but regret its fate. We 
 could see the Garrison, State House, Asylum, and all 
 that; but the object of the greatest interest to me was 
 the steeple of the Methodist church, for to the right 
 of it lay home. While looking at it, a negro passed 
 who was riding up and down the coast collecting lint, 
 so I gave him all we had made, and commenced some 
 more. Presently, we met Mr. Phillips, to whom 
 Phillie put the same question. " He is on the Laurel 
 Hill a prisoner — Confound that negro ! where did 
 he go? " And so on, each answer as far as concerned 
 her, seeming a labor, but the part relating to the 
 servant very hearty. Poor Phillie complained that 
 everybody was selfish — thought only of their own 
 affairs, and did not sympathize with her. "Yes, 
 my dear," I silently assented; for it was very true; 
 every one seemed to think of their own interests 
 
 148 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 alone. It was late before we got home, and then 
 we had great fun in watching shells which we could 
 dimly trace against the clouds, falling in what must 
 have been the Garrison. Then came a tremendous 
 fire, above, which may have been a boat — I don't 
 know. 
 
 I hear a tremendous firing again, and from the 
 two volumes of smoke, should judge it was the 
 Arkansas and the Essex trying their strength at a dis- 
 tance. We are going down to see what's the fun. It 
 would be absurd to record all the rumors that have 
 reached us, since we can rely on none. They say we 
 fought up to nine last night, and occupied the Garri- 
 son for five minutes, when the shells forced us to 
 abandon it. Also that four regiments laid down their 
 arms, that the Federals were pursued by our men 
 to the river, driven to the gunboats, and pushed off 
 to prevent the Western men from coming aboard. 
 An eye-witness, from this side, reports that General 
 Williams, " they say," was forcibly held before a 
 cannon and blown to pieces. For the sake of human- 
 ity, I hope this is false. 
 
 Oh, what a sad day this is for our country ! Mother 
 disapproved so of our going to the levee to see the 
 fight, that we consented to remain, though Miriam 
 and Ginnie jumped into the buggy and went off 
 alone. Presently came tidings that all the planters 
 near Baton Rouge were removing their families 
 and negroes, and that the Yankees were to shell the 
 whole coast, from there up to here. Then Phillie, 
 
 149 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Lilly (Nolan), and I jumped in — the carriage that 
 was still waiting, and ran after the others to bring 
 them back before they got in danger ; but when we 
 reached the end of the long lane, we saw them stand- 
 ing on the high levee, wringing their hands and crying. 
 We sprang out and joined them, and there, way at 
 the bend, lay the Arkansas on fire ! All except myself 
 burst into tears and lamentations, and prayed aloud 
 between their sobs. I had no words or tears ; I could 
 only look at our sole hope burning, going, and pray 
 silently. Oh, it was so sad! Think, it was our sole 
 dependence ! And we five girls looked at her as the 
 smoke rolled over her, watched the flames burst 
 from her decks, and the shells as they exploded one 
 by one beneath the water, coming up in jets of 
 steam. And we watched until down the road we saw 
 crowds of men toiling along toward us. Then we knew 
 they were those who had escaped, and the girls sent 
 up a shriek of pity. 
 
 On they came, dirty, half-dressed, some with only 
 their guns, others, a few, with bundles and knap- 
 sacks on their backs, grimy and tired, but still 
 laughing. We called to the first, and asked if the boat 
 were really afire; they shouted, "Yes," and went on, 
 talking still. Presently one ran up and told us the 
 story. How yesterday their engine had broken, and 
 how they had labored all day to repair it; how they 
 had succeeded, and had sat by their guns all night; 
 and this morning, as they started to meet the Essex, 
 the other engine had broken ; how each officer wrote 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 his opinion that it was impossible to fight her with any 
 hope of success under such circumstances, and ad- 
 vised the Captain to abandon her; how they had 
 resolved to do so, had exchanged shots with the Essex 
 across the point, and the first of the latter (only one, 
 also) had set ours afire, when the men were ordered 
 to take their side arms. They thought it was to board 
 the Essex, assembled together, when the order was 
 given to fire the Arkansas and go ashore, which was 
 done in a few minutes. Several of the crew were 
 around us then, and up and down the road they were 
 scattered still in crowds. 
 
 Miriam must have asked the name of some of the 
 officers; for just then she called to me, " He says that 
 is Mr. Read ! " I looked at the foot of the levee, and 
 saw two walking together. I hardly recognized the 
 gentleman I was introduced to on the McRae in the 
 one that now stood below me in rough sailor pants, a 
 pair of boots, and a very thin and slazy lisle under- 
 shirt. That is all he had on, except an old straw hat, 
 and — yes ! he held a primer ! I did not think it 
 would be embarrassing to him to meet me under 
 such circumstances; I only thought of Jimmy's 
 friend as escaping from a sad fate; so I rushed down 
 a levee twenty feet high, saying, "O Mr. Read! 
 You won't recognize me, but I am Jimmy's sister!" 
 He blushed modestly, shook my hand as though we 
 were old friends, and assured me he remembered 
 me, was glad to meet me, etc. Then Miriam came 
 down and talked to him, and then we went to the 
 
 151 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 top of the levee where the rest were, and watched 
 the poor Arkansas burn. 
 
 By that time the crowd that had gone up the road 
 came back, and we found ourselves in the centre of 
 two hundred men, just we five girls, talking with the 
 officers around us as though they were old friends. 
 You could only guess they were officers, for a dirtier, 
 more forlorn set I never saw. Not dirty either ; they 
 looked clean, considering the work they had been 
 doing. Nobody introduced anybody else; we all 
 felt like brothers and sisters in our common calamity. 
 There was one handsome Kentuckian, whose name I 
 soon found to be Talbot, who looked charmingly pic- 
 turesque in his coarse cottonade pants, white shirt, 
 straw hat, black hair, beard, and eyes, with rosy 
 cheeks. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy 
 some years ago. Then another jolly-faced young 
 man from the same Academy, pleased me, too. He, 
 the doctor, and the Captain, were the only ones who 
 possessed a coat in the whole crowd, the few who 
 saved theirs carrying them over their arms. Mr. Read 
 more than once blushingly remarked that they were 
 prepared to fight, and hardly expected to meet us; 
 but we pretended to think there was nothing un- 
 usual in his dress. I can understand, though, that he 
 should feel rather awkward; I would not like to 
 meet him, if I was in the same costume. 
 
 They all talked over their loss cheerfully, as far 
 as the loss of money, watches, clothes, were con- 
 cerned ; but they were disheartened about their boat. 
 
 152 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 One threw himself down near my feet, saying, "Me 
 voild. I have saved my gun, et puis the clothes that 
 I stand in!" and laughed as though it were an excel- 
 lent joke. One who had been on the Merrimac 
 chiefly regretted the loss of the commission appoint- 
 ing him there, though he had not saved a single 
 article. The one with the jolly face told me Will 
 Pinckney was among those attacking Baton Rouge, 
 and assured him he expected to take supper there last 
 night. He thought it would be with us, I know! I 
 hope he is safe! 
 
 After a while the men were ordered to march up 
 the lane, to some resting spot it is best not to men- 
 tion here, and straggled off; but there were many 
 sick among them, one wounded at Vicksburg, and 
 we instantly voted to walk the mile and three quar- 
 ters home, and give them the carriage and buggy. But 
 long after they left, we stood with our new friends 
 on the levee watching the last of the Arkansas, and 
 saw the Essex, and two gunboats crowded with men, 
 cautiously turn the point, and watch her burn. What 
 made me furious was the thought of the glowing 
 accounts they would give of their "capture of 
 the Arkansas! ! !" Capture, and they fired a shot 
 apiece ! — for all the firing we heard was the dis- 
 charge of her guns by the flames. We saw them go 
 back as cautiously, and I was furious, knowing the 
 accounts they would publish of what we ourselves 
 had destroyed. We had seen many shells explode, 
 and one magazine, and would have waited for the 
 
 153 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 other, if the clouds had not threatened rain speedily. 
 But we had to leave her a mere wreck, still burning, 
 and started off on our long walk. 
 
 In our hurry, I had brought neither handkerchief 
 nor gloves, but hardly missed either, I was so excited. 
 Mr. Talbot walked home with me, and each of the 
 others with some one else. He had a small bundle 
 and a sword, and the latter I insisted on carrying. 
 It was something, to shoulder a sword made for use 
 rather than for ornament! So I would carry it. He 
 said "he would remember who had carried it, and 
 the recollection would give it a new value in his eyes, 
 and I might rest assured it should never be disgraced 
 after that" and all that sort of thing, of course, as 
 it is usual to say it on such occasions. But I shoul- 
 dered the sword bravely, determined to show my 
 appreciation of the sacrifice they had made for us, 
 in coming to our rescue on a boat they had every 
 reason to believe was unsafe. I liked Mr. Talbot! 
 He made himself very agreeable in that long walk. 
 He asked permission to send me a trophy from the 
 first action in which he used "that" sword, and 
 did rit I say yes ! He thought Southern men had 
 every encouragement in the world, from the fact 
 that the ladies welcomed them with great kindness 
 in victory or defeat, insinuating he thought they 
 hardly deserved our compassion after their failure 
 on the Arkansas. But I stoutly denied that it was 
 a failure. Had they not done their best? Was it their 
 fault the machinery broke? And in defeat or vic- 
 
 154 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tory, were they not still fighting for us? Were we the 
 less grateful when they met with reverse? Oh, 
 did n't I laud the Southern men with my whole 
 heart! — and I think he felt better for it, too! Yes! 
 I like him! 
 
 We all met at the steps, and water was given to 
 our cavaliers, who certainly enjoyed it. We could 
 not ask them in, as Dr. Nolan is on his parole; but 
 Phillie intimated that if they chose to order, they 
 might do as they pleased, as women could not resist 
 armed men! So they took possession of the sugar- 
 house, and helped themselves to something to eat, 
 and were welcome to do it, since no one could pre- 
 vent! But they first stood talking on the balcony, 
 gayly , and we parted with many warm wishes on both 
 sides, insisting that, if they assisted at a second at- 
 tack on Baton Rouge, they must remember our house 
 was at their service, wounded or in health. And they 
 all shook hands with us, and looked pleased, and 
 said "God bless you," and " Good-bye." 
 
 Evening. 
 I heard a while ago, the doctor of the Ram, who 
 brought back the buggy, say the Arkansas's crew 
 were about leaving; so remembering poor Mr. Read 
 had lost everything, mother, suggesting he might 
 need money, gave me twenty dollars to put in his 
 hands, as some slight help towards reaching his des- 
 tination. Besides, coming from Jimmy's mother, 
 he could not have been hurt. But when I got down, 
 
 155 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 he was far up the lane, walking too fast for me to 
 overtake him ; then I tried to catch Mr. Stephenson, 
 to give it to him for me, but failed. Presently, we 
 saw I am afraid to say how many wagons loaded with 
 them, coming from the sugar-house; so Phillie, 
 Lilly, and I snatched up some five bottles of gin, 
 between us, and ran out to give it to them. A rough 
 old sailor received mine with a flood of thanks, and 
 the others gave theirs to those behind. An officer 
 rode up saying, "Ladies, there is no help for it! 
 The Yankee cavalry are after us, and we must fight 
 them in the corn. Take care of yourselves!" We 
 shouted "Yes!" told them to bring in the wounded 
 and we would nurse them. Then the men cried, 
 "God bless you," and we cried, "Hurrah for the 
 Arkansas's crew," and "Fight for us!" Altogether 
 it was a most affecting scene. Phillie, seeing how 
 poorly armed they were, suggested a gun, which I 
 flew after and delivered to a rough old tar. When I 
 got out, the cart then passing held Mr. Talbot, 
 who smiled benignly and waved his hat like the rest. 
 He looked still better in his black coat, but the carts 
 reminded me of what the guillotine days must have 
 been in France. He shouted "Good-bye," we shouted 
 "Come to us, if you are wounded"; he smiled and 
 bowed, and I cried, " Use that sword!" — where- 
 upon he sprang to his feet and grasped the hilt as 
 though about to commence. Then came other offi- 
 cers; Mr. Scales, Mr. Barblaud, etc., who smiled re- 
 cognition, stopped the wagon as Phillie handed up 
 
 156 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 a plate of bread and meat, and talked gayly as they 
 divided it, until the Captain rode up. "On, gentle- 
 men ! not a moment to lose ! " Then the cart started 
 off, the empty plate was flung overboard, and they 
 rode off waving hats and crying, "God bless you, 
 ladies!" in answer to our repeated offers of taking 
 care of them if they were hurt. And they have gone 
 to meet the Yankees, and I hope they won't, for they 
 have worked enough to-day, and from my heart I 
 pray God prosper those brave men ! 
 
 August 7th. 
 
 Last night, shortly after we got in bed, we were 
 roused by loud cannonading towards Baton Rouge, 
 and running out on the small balcony up here, saw 
 the light of a great fire in that direction. From the 
 constant reports, and the explosion of what seemed 
 to be several powder magazines, we imagined it to 
 be either the Garrison or a gunboat. Whatever it 
 was, it was certainly a great fire. We all ran out in 
 our nightgowns, and watched for an hour in the 
 damp air, I without even shoes. We listened to the 
 fight a long while, until the sound ceased, and we 
 
 went back to bed. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I am so disheartened ! I have been listening with 
 the others to a man who was telling us about Baton 
 Rouge, until I am heartsick. He says the Yankees 
 have been largely reinforced, and are prepared for 
 another attack which will probably take place to- 
 morrow; that the fight was a dreadful one, we driv- 
 
 157 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ing them in, and losing twelve hundred, to their 
 fifteen hundred. It must have been awful ! And that 
 our troops have resolved to burn the town down, 
 since they cannot hold it under the fire of the gun- 
 boats. 
 
 August 8th, Friday. 
 
 Again last night, about nine, we heard cannon in 
 Baton Rouge, and watched the flashes,, which preceded 
 the reports by a minute, at least, for a long time. We 
 must have seen our own firing ; perhaps we wanted 
 to find out the batteries of the enemy. It was not 
 the most delightful thing imaginable to watch what 
 might be the downfall of our only home ! And then 
 to think each ball might bring death to some one we 
 love! Ah, no! it was not pleasant! 
 
 Miriam and I have many friends in BreCKinridge's 
 division, I expect, if we could only hear the names 
 of the regiments. The Fourth is certainly there. 
 And poor Will! I wonder if he has had his supper 
 yet? I have been thinking of him ever since Mr. 
 Scales told me he was there, and praying myself sick 
 for his safety and that of the rest. I shut my eyes 
 at every report and say, "Oh, please! poor Will! — 
 and the others, too!" And when I don't hear the 
 cannon, I pray, to be in advance of the next. 
 
 It is now midday, and again we hear firing; but 
 have yet to learn the true story of the first day's 
 fight. Preserve me from the country in such stirring 
 days! We might as well be in Europe as to have 
 the Mississippi between us and town. 
 
 158 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 By unanimous consent, the little lane in front of 
 the house has been christened "Guerrilla Lane," and 
 the long one leading to the river, "Arkansas." What 
 an episode that was, in our lives ! The officers go by 
 the name of Miriam's, Ginnie's, Sarah's, as though 
 they belonged to each! 
 
 Those girls did me the meanest thing imaginable. 
 Mr. Talbot and I were planning a grand combined 
 attack on Baton Rouge, in which he was to command 
 a fleet and attack the town by the river, while I 
 promised to get up a battalion of girls and attack 
 them in the rear. We had settled it all, except the 
 time, when just then all the others stopped talking. 
 I went on: "And now, it is only necessary for you 
 to name the day — " Here the girls commenced to 
 giggle, and the young men tried to suppress a smile; 
 I felt annoyed, but it did not strike me until after 
 they had left, that I had said anything absurd. What 
 evil imaginations they must have, if they could have 
 fancied I meant anything except the battle! 
 
 August 9th. 
 To our great surprise, Charlie came in this morn- 
 ing from the other side. He was in the battle, and 
 General Carter, and dozens of others that we did not 
 think of. See the mountain reduced to a mole-hill! 
 He says, though the fight was desperate, we lost 
 only eighty-five killed, and less than a hundred and 
 fifty wounded! And we had only twenty-five hun- 
 dred against the Yankees' four thousand five hun- 
 
 159 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 dred. There is no truth in our having held the Garri- 
 son even for a moment, though we drove them down 
 to the river in a panic. The majority ran like fine 
 fellows, but a Maine regiment fought like devils. 
 He says Will and Thompson Bird set fire to the 
 Yankee camp with the greatest alacrity, as though 
 it were rare fun. General Williams was killed as he 
 passed Piper's, by a shot from a window, supposed to 
 have been fired by a citizen. Some one from town told 
 him that the Federals were breaking in the houses, 
 destroying the furniture, and tearing the clothes 
 of the women and children in shreds, like maniacs. 
 O my home! I wonder if they have entered ours? 
 What a jolly time they would have over all the 
 letters I left in my desk ! Butler has ordered them 
 to burn Baton Rouge if forced to evacuate it. Looks 
 as though he was not so sure of holding it. 
 
 Miss Turner told Miriam that her mother at- 
 tempted to enter town after the fight to save some 
 things, when the gallant Colonel Dudley put a pistol 
 to her head, called her an old she-devil, and told her 
 
 he would blow her d brains out if she moved a 
 
 step ; that anyhow, none but we d women had 
 
 put the men up to fighting, and we were the ones 
 who were to blame for the fuss. There is no name 
 
 he did not call us. 
 
 August ioth, Sunday. 
 
 Is this really Sunday? Never felt less pious, or 
 less seriously disposed! Listen to my story, and 
 though I will, of course, fall far short of the actual 
 
 1 60 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 terror that reigned, yet it will show it in a lukewarm 
 light, that can at least recall the excitement to me. 
 
 To begin, then, last evening, about six o'clock, as 
 we sat reading, sewing, and making lint in the par- 
 lor, we heard a tremendous shell whizzing past, 
 which those who watched, said passed not five feet 
 above the house. Of course, there was a slight stir 
 among the unsophisticated; though we, who had 
 passed through bombardments, sieges, and alarms 
 of all kinds, coolly remarked, "a shell," and kept 
 quiet. (The latter class was not very numerous.) 
 It was from one of the three Yankee boats that lay 
 in the river close by (the Essex and two gunboats), 
 which were sweeping teams, provisions, and negroes 
 from all the plantations they stopped at from 
 Baton Rouge up. The negroes, it is stated, are to 
 be armed against us as in town, where all those who 
 manned the cannon on Tuesday were, for the most 
 part, killed; and served them right! Another shell 
 was fired at a carriage containing Mrs. Durald and 
 several children, under pretense of discovering if she 
 was a guerrilla, doubtless. Fortunately, she was 
 not hurt, however. 
 
 By the time the little emeute had subsided, deter- 
 mined to have a frolic, Miss Walters, Ginnie, and I 
 got on our horses, and rode off down the Arkansas 
 Lane, to have a gallop and a peep at the gunboats 
 from the levee. But mother's entreaties prevented 
 us from going that near, as she cried that it was 
 well known they fired at every horse or vehicle they 
 
 161 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 saw in the road, seeing a thousand guerrillas in every 
 puff of dust, and we were sure to be killed, murdered, 
 and all sorts of bloody deaths awaited us ; so to sat- 
 isfy her, we took the road about a mile from the 
 river, in full view, however. We had not gone very 
 far before we met a Mr. Watson, a plain farmer of 
 the neighborhood, who begged us to go back. 
 "You'll be fired on, ladies, sure! You don't know 
 the danger! Take my advice and go home as quick 
 as possible before they shell you ! They shot buggies 
 and carriages, and of course they won't mind horses 
 with women! Please go home!" But Ginnie, who 
 had taken a fancy to go on, acted as spokeswoman, 
 and determined to go on in spite of his advice, so, no- 
 thing loath to follow her example, we thanked him, 
 and rode on. Another met us; looked doubtful, said 
 it was not so dangerous if the Yankees did not see the 
 dust; but if they did, we would be pretty apt to see 
 a shell soon after. Here was frolic! So we rode on 
 some mile or two beyond, but failing to see anything 
 startling, turned back again. 
 
 About two miles from here, we met Mr. Watson 
 coming at full speed. The ladies, he said, had sent 
 him after us in all haste ; there was a report that the 
 whole coast was to be shelled; a lady had passed, 
 flying with her children; the carriage was ordered 
 out ; they were only waiting for us, to run, too. We 
 did not believe a word of it, and were indignant at 
 their credulity, as well as determined to persuade 
 them to remain where they were, if possible. When 
 
 162 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 told their plan was to run to the house formerly used 
 as a guerrilla camp, we laughed heartily. Suppose 
 the Yankees fired a shell into it to discover its in- 
 habitants? The idea of choosing a spot so well 
 known! And what fun in running to a miserable 
 hole, when we might sleep comfortably here? I am 
 afraid rebellion was in the air. Indeed, an impudent 
 little negro, who threw open the gate for us, inter- 
 rupted Ginnie in the midst of a tirade with a sly 
 "Here's the beginning of a little fuss!" 
 
 We found them all crazy with fear. I did not say 
 much; I was too provoked to trust myself to argue 
 with so many frightened women. I only said I saw 
 no necessity. Ginnie resisted ; but finally succumbed. 
 Mr. Watson, whom we had enlisted on our side also, 
 said it was by no means necessary, but if we were 
 determined, we might go to his house, about four 
 miles away, and stay there. It was very small, but we 
 were welcome. We had in the mean time thrown off 
 our riding-skirts, and stood just in our plain dresses, 
 though the others were freshly dressed for an exodus. 
 Before the man left, the carriage came, though by 
 that time we had drawn half the party on our side ; we 
 said we would take supper, and decide after, so he 
 went off. 
 
 In a few moments a rocket went up from one of the 
 boats, which attracted our attention. Five minutes 
 after, we saw a flash directly before us. "See it? 
 Lightning, I expect," said Phillie. ^The others all 
 agreed; but I kept quiet, knowing that some, at 
 
 163 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 least, knew what it was as well as I, and deter- 
 mined not to give the alarm — for I was beginning 
 to feel foolish. Before half a minute more came a 
 tearing, hissing sound, a sky-rocket whose music 
 I had heard before. Instantly I remembered my run- 
 ning-bag, and flew upstairs to get it, escaping just 
 in time from the scene which followed on the gallery 
 which was afterwards most humorously described 
 to me. But I was out of hearing of the screams of 
 each (and yet I must have heard them); neither 
 saw Miss Walters tumble against the wall, nor 
 mother turn over her chair, nor the general mtUe 
 that followed, in which Mrs. Walters, trying to scale 
 the carriage, was pulled out by Uncle Will, who 
 shouted to his plunging horses first, then to the other 
 unreasoning creatures, "Woa, there! 'T ain't safe! 
 Take to the fields! Take to the woods! Run to the 
 sugar-house! Take to your heels!" in a frenzy of 
 excitement. 
 
 I escaped all that, and was putting on my hoops 
 and hastily catching up any article that presented 
 itself to me in my speed, when the shell burst over 
 the roof, and went rolling down on the gallery, ac- 
 cording to the account of those then below. Two 
 went far over the house, out of sight. All three were 
 seen by Mr. Watson, who came galloping up in a 
 few moments, crying, "Ladies, for God's sake, leave 
 the house!" Then I heard mother calling, "Sarah! 
 You will be killed! Leave your clothes and run!" — 
 and a hundred ejaculations that came too fast for 
 
 164 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 me to answer except by an occasional "Coming, if 
 you will send me a candle ! ' ' Candle was the same as 
 though I had demanded a hand-grenade, in mother's 
 opinion, for she was sure it would be the signal for a 
 bombardment of my exposed room ; so I tossed down 
 my bundles, swept combs and hairpins into my bosom 
 (all points up), and ravished a candle from some one. 
 How quickly I got on, then ! I saved the most use- 
 less of articles with the greatest zeal, and probably 
 left the most serviceable ones. One single dress did 
 my running-bag contain — a white linen cambric 
 with a tiny pink flower — the one I wore when I told 
 Hal good-bye for the last time. The others I left. 
 
 When I got down with my knapsack, mother, 
 Phillie, and Mrs. Walters were — 
 
 At Randallson's Landing, August nth. 
 I don't mean those ladies were, but that I am at 
 present. I '11 account for it after I have disposed of 
 the stampede. Imagine no interruption, and con- 
 tinue — in the carriage urging Uncle Will to hurry 
 on, and I had hardly time to thrust my sack under 
 their feet before they were off. Lilly and Miss Wal- 
 ters were already in the buggy, leaving Ginnie and 
 me to follow on horseback. I ran up after my riding- 
 skirt, which I was surprised to find behind a trunk, 
 and rolled up in it was my running-bag, with all my 
 treasures! I was very much provoked at my care- 
 lessness; indeed, I cannot imagine how it got there, 
 for it was the first thing I thought of. When I got 
 
 165 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 back, there was no one to be seen except Ginnie and 
 two negroes who held our horses, and who disap- 
 peared the instant we were mounted; with the ex- 
 ception of two women who were running to the woods, 
 we were the only ones on the lot, until Mr. Watson 
 galloped up to urge us on. Again I had to notice this 
 peculiarity about women — that the married ones 
 are invariably the first to fly, in time of danger, and 
 always leave the young ones to take care of them- 
 selves. Here were our three matrons, prophesying 
 that the house would be burnt, the Yankees upon 
 us, and all murdered in ten minutes, flying down 
 the Guerrilla Lane, and leaving us to encounter the 
 horrors they foretold, alone. 
 
 It was a splendid gallop in the bright moonlight, 
 over the fields, only it was made uncomfortable by the 
 jerking of my running-bag, until I happily thought 
 of turning it before. A hard ride of four miles in 
 about twenty minutes brought us to the house of the 
 man who so kindly offered his hospitality. It was a 
 little hut, about as large as our parlor, and already 
 crowded to overflowing, as he was entertaining 
 three families from Baton Rouge. Can't imagine 
 where he put them, either. But it seems to me the 
 poorer the man, and the smaller the house, the greater 
 the hospitality you meet with. There were so many 
 of us that there was not room on the balcony to turn. 
 The man wanted to prepare supper, but we declined, 
 as Phillie had sent back for ours which we had missed. 
 
 I saw another instance of the pleasure the vulgar 
 1 66 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 take in the horrible. A Mr. Hill, speaking of Dr. 
 Nolan, told Phillie "he had no doubt he had been 
 sent to New Orleans on the Whiteman, that carried 
 General Williams's body; and that every soul had 
 gone down on her." Fortunately, just then the 
 overseer brought a letter from him saying he had 
 gone on another boat, or the man's relish of the dis- 
 tressing might have been gratified. 
 
 It was so crowded there that we soon suggested 
 going a short distance beyond, to Mr. Lobdell's, 
 and staying there for the night, as all strenuously 
 objected to our returning home, as there was danger 
 from prowling Yankees. So we mounted again, and 
 after a short ride we reached the house, where all 
 were evidently asleep. But necessity knows no rules ; 
 and the driver soon aroused an old gentleman who 
 came out and invited us in. A middle-aged lady met 
 us, and made us perfectly at home by leaving us to 
 take care of ourselves; most people would have 
 thought it indifference ; but I knew it was manque de 
 savoir faire, merely, and preferred doing as I pleased. 
 If she had been officious, I would have been em- 
 barrassed. So we walked in the moonlight, Ginnie 
 and I, while the rest sat in the shade, and all discussed 
 the fun of the evening, those who had been most 
 alarmed laughing loudest. The old gentleman in- 
 sisted that we girls had been the cause of it all ; that 
 our white bodies (I wore a Russian shirt) and black 
 skirts could easily have caused us to be mistaken for 
 men. That, at all events, three or four people on 
 
 167 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 horseback would be a sufficient pretext for firing 
 a shell or two. "In short, young ladies," he said, 
 "there is no doubt in my mind that you were mis- 
 taken for guerrillas, and that they only wanted to 
 give you time to reach the woods where they heard 
 they have a camp, before shooting at you. In short, 
 take my advice and never mount a horse again when 
 there is a Yankee in sight." We were highly grati- 
 fied at being mistaken for them, and pretended to 
 believe it was true. I hardly think he was right, 
 though; it is too preposterous. 
 
 Pourtant, Sunday morning the Yankees told a ne- 
 gro they did not mean to touch the house, but were 
 shooting at some guerrillas at a camp just beyond. 
 We know the last guerrilla left the parish five days ago. 
 
 Our host insisted on giving us supper, though 
 Phillie represented that ours was on the road ; and by 
 eleven o'clock, tired alike of moonlight and fasting, 
 we gladly accepted, and rapidly made the preserves 
 and batter-cakes fly. Ours was a garret room, well 
 finished, abounding in odd closets and corners, with 
 curious dormer windows that were reached by long 
 little corridors. I should have slept well; but I lay 
 awake all night. Mother and I occupied a narrow 
 single bed, with a bar of the thickest, heaviest ma- 
 terial imaginable. Suffocation awaited me inside, 
 gnats and mosquitoes outside. In order to be 
 strictly impartial, I lay awake to divide my time 
 equally between the two attractions, and think I 
 succeeded pretty well. So I spent the night on the 
 
 168 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 extreme edge of the bed, never turning over, but 
 fanning mother constantly. I was not sorry when 
 daybreak appeared, but dressed and ascended the 
 observatory to get a breath of air. 
 
 Below me, I beheld four wagons loaded with the 
 young Mrs. Lobdell's baggage. The Yankees had 
 visited them in the evening, swept off everything 
 they could lay their hands on, and with a sick child 
 she was obliged to leave her house in the night and 
 fly to her father-in-law. I wondered at their allowing 
 her four wagons of trunks and bundles; it was very 
 kind. If I were a Federal, I think it would kill me 
 to hear the whisper of "Hide the silver" wherever 
 I came. Their having frequently relieved families 
 of such trifles, along with negroes, teams, etc., has 
 put others on their guard now. As I sat in the parlor 
 in the early morning, Mrs. Walters en blouse volante 
 and all echeveUe, came in to tell me of Mr. Lobdell's 
 misfortunes. "They took his negroes [right hand 
 up]; his teams [left hand up]; his preserves [both 
 hands clutching her hair] ; they swept off everything, 
 except four old women who could not walk! they 
 told him if he didn't come report himself, they'd 
 come fetch him in three days ! They beggared him ! " 
 [Both eyes rolling like a ship in a storm.] I could not 
 help laughing. Mr. Bird sat on the gallery, and had 
 been served in the same way, with the addition of 
 a pair of handcuffs for a little while. It was not a 
 laughing matter; but the old lady made it comical 
 by her gestures. 
 
 169 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 When we suggested returning, there was another 
 difficulty. All said it was madness ; that the Yankees 
 would sack the house and burn it over our heads; 
 we would be insulted, etc. I said no one yet had ever 
 said an impudent thing to me, and Yankees certainly 
 would not attempt it ; but the old gentleman told me 
 I did not know what I was talking about ; so I hushed, 
 but determined to return. Ginnie and I sat an hour 
 on horseback waiting for the others to settle what 
 they would do; and after having half-roasted our- 
 selves in the sun, they finally agreed to go, too, and 
 we set off in a gallop which we never broke until we 
 reached the house, which to our great delight we 
 found standing, and not infested with Yankees. 
 
 Linwood, August 1 2th. 
 
 Another resting-place! Out of reach of shells for 
 the first time since last April ! For how long, I won- 
 der? For wherever we go, we bring shells and Yan- 
 kees. Would not be surprised at a visit from them 
 out here, now! 
 
 Let me take up the thread of that never-ending 
 story, and account for my present position. It all 
 seems tame now; but it was very exciting at the 
 time. 
 
 As soon as I threw down bonnet and gloves, I 
 commenced writing; but before I had halfway fin- 
 ished, mother, who had been holding a consultation 
 downstairs, ran up to say the overseer had advised 
 us all to leave, as the place was not safe; and that 
 
 170 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I must pack up instantly, as, unless we got off before 
 the Essex came up, it would be impossible to leave 
 at all. All was commotion; every one flew to pack up. 
 Phillie determined to go to her friends at Grosse 
 TSte, and insisted on carrying us off with her. But 
 I determined to reach Miriam and Lilly if possible, 
 rather than put the Federal army between us. All 
 en deshabille, I commenced to pack our trunk, but 
 had scarcely put an article in when they cried the 
 Essex was rounding the point, and our last oppor- 
 tunity passing away. Then I flew; and by the time 
 the boat got opposite to us, the trunk was locked, 
 and I sat on it, completely dressed, waiting for the 
 wagon. We had then to wait for the boat to get out 
 of sight, to avoid a broadside; so it was half- past 
 ten before we set off, fortified by several glasses of 
 buttermilk apiece. 
 
 All went in the carriage except Ginnie, Lilly (No- 
 lan), and me, and we perched on the baggage in 
 the wagon. Such stifling heat! The wagon jarred 
 dreadfully, and seated at the extreme end, on a 
 wooden trunk traversed by narrow slats, Ginnie and 
 I were jolted until we lost our breath, all down 
 Arkansas Lane, when we changed for the front 
 part. I shall never forget the heat of that day. 
 
 Four miles beyond, the carriage stopped at some 
 house, and, still determined to get over the river, 
 I stepped into the little cart that held our trunks, 
 drove up to the side of it, and insisted on mother's 
 getting in, rather than going the other way with 
 
 171 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Phillie. I had a slight discussion, and overcame 
 mother's reluctance to Phillie's objections with some 
 difficulty; but finally prevailed on the former to get 
 into the cart, and jolted off amid a shower of re- 
 proaches, regrets, and good-byes. I knew I was right, 
 though ; and the idea reconciled me to the heat, dust, 
 jarring, and gunboat that was coming up behind us. 
 
 Six miles more brought us to Mr. Cain's, where 
 we arrived at two o'clock, tired, dirty, and almost 
 unrecognizable. We were received with the greatest 
 cordiality in spite of that. Mother knew both him 
 and his wife, but though I had never seen either, the 
 latter kissed me as affectionately as though we had 
 known each other. It was impossible to cross when 
 the gunboat was in sight, so they made us stay with 
 them until the next morning. A bath and clean 
 clothes soon made me quite presentable, and I really 
 enjoyed the kindness we met with, in spite of a 
 "tearing" headache, and a distended feeling about 
 the eyes as though I never meant to close them again 
 — the consequence of my vigil, I presume. O those 
 dear, kind people! I shall not soon forget them. Mr. 
 Cain told mother he believed he would keep me; at 
 all events, he would make an exchange, and give her 
 his only son in my place. I told him I was willing, 
 as mother thought much more of her sons than of 
 her daughters. 
 
 I forgot to say that we met General Allen's partner 
 a mile or two from Dr. Nolan's, who told us it was a 
 wise move ; that he had intended recommending it. 
 
 172 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 All he owned had been carried off, his plantation 
 stripped. He said he had no doubt that all the coast 
 would be ravaged, and they had promised to burn 
 his and many other houses ; and Dr. Nolan's — though 
 it might possibly be spared in consideration of his 
 being a prisoner, and his daughter being unpro- 
 tected — would most probably suffer with the rest, 
 but even if spared, it was no place for women. He 
 offered to take charge of us all, and send the furni- 
 ture into the interior before the Yankees should land, 
 which Phillie gladly accepted. 
 
 What a splendid rest I had at Mrs. Cain's! I was 
 not conscious of being alive until I awaked abruptly 
 in the early morning, with a confused sense of having 
 dreamed something very pleasant. 
 
 Mr. Cain accompanied us to the ferry some miles 
 above, riding by the buggy ; and leaving us under 
 care of Mr. Randallson, after seeing us in the large 
 flat, took his leave. After an hour spent at the 
 hotel after landing on this side, we procured a con- 
 veyance and came on to Mr. Elder's, where we as- 
 tonished Lilly by our unexpected appearance very 
 much. Miriam had gone over to spend the day with 
 her, so we were all together, and talked over our ad- 
 ventures with the greatest glee. After dinner Miriam 
 and I came over here to see them all, leaving the 
 others to follow later. I was very glad to see Helen 
 Carter once more. If I was not, I hope I may live in 
 Yankee-land ! — and I can't invoke a more dreadful 
 punishment than that. 
 
 173 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Well! here we are, and Heaven only knows our 
 next move. But we must settle on some spot, which 
 seems impossible in the present state of affairs, when 
 no lodgings are to be found. I feel like a homeless 
 beggar. Will Pinckney told them here that he 
 doubted if our house were still standing, as the fight 
 occurred just back of it, and every volley directed 
 towards it. He says he thought of it every time the 
 cannon was fired, knowing where the shot would go. 
 
 August 13th. 
 
 I am in despair. Miss Jones, who has just made 
 her escape from town, brings a most dreadful account. 
 She, with seventy-five others, took refuge at Dr. 
 Enders's, more than a mile and a half below town, 
 at Hall's. It was there we sent the two trunks con- 
 taining father's papers and our clothing and silver. 
 Hearing that guerrillas had been there, the Yankees 
 went down, shelled the house in the night, turning 
 all those women and children out, who barely es- 
 caped with their clothing, and let the soldiers loose 
 on it. They destroyed everything they could lay 
 their hands on, if it could not be carried off; broke 
 open armoirs, trunks, sacked the house, and left it 
 one scene of devastation and ruin. They even stole 
 Miss Jones's braid! She got here with nothing but 
 the clothes she wore. 
 
 This is a dreadful blow to me. Yesterday, I 
 thought myself beggared when I heard that our house 
 was probably burnt, remembering all the clothing, 
 
 174 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 books, furniture, etc., that it contained; but I con- 
 soled myself with the recollection of a large trunk 
 packed in the most scientific style, containing quan- 
 tities of nightgowns, skirts, chemises, dresses, 
 cloaks, — in short, our very best, — which was in 
 safety. Winter had no terrors when I thought of the 
 nice warm clothes ; I only wished I had a few of the 
 organdie dresses I had packed up before wearing. 
 And now? It is all gone, silver, father's law papers, 
 without which we are beggars, and clothing! Noth- 
 ing left ! 
 
 I could stand that. But as each little article of 
 Harry's came up before me (I had put many in the 
 trunk), I lost heart. . . . They may clothe their 
 negro women with my clothes, since they only steal 
 for them ; but to take things so sacred to me ! O my 
 God, teach me to forgive them! 
 
 Poor Miss Jones ! They went into her clothes-bag 
 and took out articles which were certainly of no serv- 
 ice to them, for mere deviltry. There are so many 
 sufferers in this case that it makes it still worse. 
 The plantation just below was served in the same 
 way; whole families fired into before they knew of 
 the intention of the Yankees; was it not fine sport? 
 I have always been an advocate of peace — if we 
 could name the conditions ourselves — but I say, 
 War to the death ! I would give my life to be able to 
 take arms against the vandals who are laying waste 
 our fair land! I suppose it is because I have no 
 longer anything to lose that I am desperate. Before, 
 
 175 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I always opposed the burning of Baton Rouge, as a 
 useless piece of barbarism in turning out five thou- 
 sand women and children on the charity of the world. 
 But I noticed that those who had no interest there 
 warmly advocated it. Lilly Nolan cried loudly for 
 it; thought it only just; but the first shell that whistled 
 over her father's house made her crazy with rage. 
 The brutes! the beasts! how cruel! wicked! etc. It 
 was too near home for her, then. There is the great- 
 est difference between my property and yours. I 
 notice that the further I get from town, the more 
 ardent are the people to have it burned. It recalls 
 very forcibly Thackeray's cut in "The Virginians," 
 when speaking of the determination of the Rebels to 
 burn the cities: he says he observed that all those 
 who were most eager to burn New York were in- 
 habitants of Boston; while those who were most 
 zealous to burn Boston had all their property in 
 New York. It is true all the world over. And I am 
 afraid I am becoming indifferent about the fate of 
 our town. Anything, so it is speedily settled! Tell 
 me it would be of service to the Confederacy, and 
 I would set fire to my home — if still standing — 
 
 willingly! But would it? 
 
 August 17th. 
 
 Another Sunday. Strange that the time, which 
 should seem so endless, flies so rapidly! Miriam 
 complains that Sunday comes every day ; but though 
 that seems a little too much, I insist that it comes 
 twice a week. Let time fly, though; for each day 
 
 176 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 brings us so much nearer our destiny, which I long 
 to know. 
 
 Thursday, we heard from a lady just from town 
 that our house was standing the day before, which 
 somewhat consoled us for the loss of our silver and 
 clothing; but yesterday came the tidings of new 
 afflictions. I declare we have acted out the first 
 chapter of Job, all except that verse about the death 
 of his sons and daughters. God shield us from that! 
 I do not mind the rest. "While he was yet speaking, 
 another came in and said, 'Thy brethren and kins- 
 men gathered together to wrest thine abode from the 
 hand of the Philistines which pressed sore upon thee ; 
 when lo! the Philistines sallied forth with fire and 
 sword, and laid thine habitation waste and desolate, 
 and I only am escaped to tell thee.'" Yes! the 
 Yankees, fearing the Confederates might slip in un- 
 seen, resolved to have full view of their movements, 
 so put the torch to all eastward, from Colonel 
 Matta's to the Advocate. That would lay open a 
 fine tract of country, alone; but unfortunately, it is 
 said that once started, it was not so easy to control 
 the flames, which spread considerably beyond their 
 appointed limits. Some say it went as far as Flor- 
 ida Street; if so, we are lost, as that is a half-square 
 below us. For several days the fire has been burn- 
 ing, but very little can be learned of the particulars. 
 I am sorry for Colonel Matta. Such a fine brown 
 stone front, the finest in town. Poor Minna! poverty 
 will hardly agree with her. As for our home, I hope 
 
 177 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 against hope. I will not believe it is burnt, until some- 
 body declares having been present on that occasion. 
 Yet so many frame houses on that square must have 
 readily caught fire from the sparks. 
 
 Wicked as it may seem, I would rather have all I 
 own burned, than in the possession of the negroes. 
 Fancy my magenta organdie on a dark beauty ! Bah ! 
 I think the sight would enrage me! Miss Jones's trials 
 are enough to drive her crazy. She had the pleasure 
 of having four officers in her house, men who sported 
 epaulets and red sashes, accompanied by a negro 
 woman, at whose disposal all articles were placed. 
 The worthy companion of these "gentlemen" 
 walked around selecting things with the most natural 
 airs and graces. "This" she would say, "we must 
 have. And some of these books, you know ; and all 
 the preserves, and these chairs and tables, and all 
 the clothes, of course; and yes! the rest of these 
 things." So she would go on, the "gentlemen" as- 
 suring her she had only to choose what she wanted, 
 and that they would have them removed immedi- 
 ately. Madame thought they really must have the 
 wine, and those handsome cut-glass goblets. I hardly 
 think I could have endured such a scene; to see all 
 I owned given to negroes, without even an accusa- 
 tion being brought against me of disloyalty. 1 One 
 officer departed with a fine velvet cloak on his arm ; 
 another took such a bundle of Miss Jones's clothes, 
 
 1 The Act of July 16th, 1862, authorized the confiscation of property 
 only in the cases of rebels whose disloyalty was established. — W. D. 
 
 178 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that he had to have it lifted by some one else on his 
 horse, and rode off holding it with difficulty. This 
 I heard from herself, yesterday, as I spent the day 
 with Lilly and mother at Mr. Elder's, where she is 
 now staying. Can anything more disgraceful be 
 imagined? They all console me by saying there is 
 no one in Baton Rouge who could possibly wear my 
 dresses without adding a considerable piece to the 
 belt. But that is nonsense. Another pull at the 
 corset strings would bring them easily to the size 
 I have been reduced by nature and bones. Besides, 
 
 horror! Suppose, instead, they should let in a piece 
 of another color? That would annihilate me ! Pshaw ! 
 
 1 do not care for the dresses, if they had only left me 
 
 those little articles of father's and Harry's. But that 
 
 is hard to forgive. 
 
 August 19th. 
 
 Yesterday, two Colonels, Shields and Breaux, 
 both of whom distinguished themselves in the battle 
 of Baton Rouge, dined here. Their personal appear- 
 ance was by no means calculated to fill me with awe, 
 or even to give one an idea of their rank ; for their 
 dress consisted of merely cottonade pants, flannel 
 shirts, and extremely short jackets (which, however, 
 is rapidly becoming the uniform of the Confederate 
 States). 
 
 Just three lines back, three soldiers came in to ask 
 for molasses. I was alone downstairs, and the nerv- 
 ous trepidation with which I received the dirty, 
 
 179 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 coarsely clad strangers, who, however, looked as 
 though they might be gentlemen, has raised a laugh 
 against me from the others who looked down from 
 a place of safety. I don't know what I did that was 
 out of the way. I felt odd receiving them as though 
 it was my home, and having to answer their ques- 
 tions about buying, by means of acting as telegraph 
 between them and Mrs. Carter. I confess to that. 
 But I know I talked reasonably about the other 
 subjects. Playing hostess in a strange house! Of 
 course, it was uncomfortable ! and to add to my em- 
 barrassment, the handsomest one offered to pay 
 for the milk he had just drunk! Fancy my feelings, 
 as I hastened to assure him that General Carter 
 never received money for such things, and from a 
 soldier, besides, it was not to be thought of! He 
 turned to the other, saying, " In Mississippi we don't 
 meet with such people! Miss, they don't hesitate 
 to charge four bits a canteen for milk. They take all 
 they can. They are not like you Louisianians." I 
 was surprised to hear him say it of his own State, but 
 told him we thought here we could not do enough for 
 them. 
 
 August 20th. 
 
 Last evening, after hard labor at pulling molasses 
 candy, needing some relaxation after our severe 
 exertions, we determined to have some fun, though 
 the sun was just setting in clouds as watery as New 
 Orleans milk, and promised an early twilight. All 
 day it had been drizzling, but that was nothing; so. 
 
 1 80 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Anna Badger, Miriam, and I setoff, through the mud, 
 to get up the little cart to ride in, followed by cries 
 from the elder ladies of " Girls! Soap is a dollar and 
 a half a bar ! Starch a dollar a pound ! Take up those 
 skirts ! " We had all started stiff and clean, and it did 
 seem a pity to let them drag ; so up they went — 
 you can imagine how high when I tell you my answer 
 to Anna's question as to whether hers were in danger 
 of touching the mud, was, "Not unless you sit down." 
 The only animal we could discover that was not 
 employed was a poor old pony, most appropriately 
 called "Tom Thumb," and him we seized instantly, 
 together with a man to harness him. We accom- 
 panied him from the stable to the quarter where the 
 cart was, through mud and water, urging him on 
 with shouts and cries, and laughing until we could 
 laugh no longer, at the appearance of each. The cart 
 had been hauling wood, but that was nothing to us. 
 In we tumbled, and with a driver as diminutive as 
 the horse, started off for Mr. Elder's, where we 
 picked up all the children to be found, and went on. 
 All told, we were twelve, drawn by that poor horse, 
 who seemed at each step about to undergo the ham 
 process, and leave us his hind quarters, while he 
 escaped with the fore ones and harness. I dare say 
 we never enjoyed a carriage as much, though each 
 was holding a muddy child. Riding was very fine; 
 but soon came the question, "How shall we turn?" 
 — which was not so easily solved, for neither horse 
 nor boy understood it in the least. Every effort to 
 
 181 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 describe a circle brought us the length of the cart 
 farther up the road, and we promised fair to reach 
 Bayou Sara before morning, at that rate. At last, 
 after fruitless efforts to dodge under the harness 
 and escape, pony came to a standstill, and could 
 not be induced to move. The children took advan- 
 tage of the pause to tumble out, but we sat still. 
 Bogged, and it was very dark already! Would n't 
 we get it when we got home ! Anna groaned, "Uncle 
 Albert!" Miriam laughed, "the General!" I sighed, 
 "Mrs. Carter!" We knew what we deserved; and 
 darker and darker it grew, and pony still inflexible! 
 At last we beheld a buggy on a road near by and in 
 answer to Morgan's shouts of "Uncle! Uncle! come 
 turn our cart!" a gentleman jumped out and in an 
 instant performed the Herculean task. Pony found 
 motion so agreeable that it was with the greatest 
 difficulty we prevailed on him to stop while we fished 
 seven children out of the mud, as they pursued his 
 flying hoofs. Once more at Mr. Elder's, we pitched 
 them out without ceremony, and drove home as 
 fast as possible, trying to fancy what punishment 
 we would receive for being out so late. 
 
 Miriam suggested, as the most horrible one, being 
 sent to bed supperless; Anna's terror was the Gen- 
 eral's displeasure; I suggested being deprived of 
 rides in future; when all agreed that mine was the 
 most severe yet. So as we drove around the circle, 
 those two set up what was meant for a hearty laugh 
 to show "they were not afraid," which, however, 
 
 182 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 sounded rather shaky to me. I don't think any of us 
 felt like facing the elders; Miriam suggested antici- 
 pating our fate by retiring voluntarily to bed ; Anna 
 thought we had best run up and change our shoes, 
 anyway; but at last, with her dare-devil laugh, 
 Miriam sauntered into the room, where they all 
 were, followed by us, and thrusting her wet feet into 
 the fire that was kindled to drive away the damp 
 (followed also by us), commenced a laughable ac- 
 count of our fun — in which we, of course, followed, 
 too. If I had fancied we were to escape scot free, we 
 would most surely have got a scolding. It is almost 
 an inducement to hope always for the — worst ! The 
 General did not mention the hour! did not prohibit 
 future rides! 
 
 While we were yet toasting, a negro came in with 
 what seemed a bank-note, and asked his master to 
 see how much it was, as one of the women had sold 
 some of her watermelons to the three soldiers of 
 the morning, who had given that to her for a dollar. 
 The General opened it. It was a pass! So vanish all 
 faith in human nature! They looked so honest! I 
 could never have believed it of them ! But it looked 
 so much like the " shinplasters " we are forced to use, 
 that no wonder they made the mistake. To discover 
 who had played so mean a trick on the poor old 
 woman, the General asked me if I could decipher the 
 name. I threw myself on my knees by the hearth, 
 and by the flickering light read " S. Kimes. By order 
 of C!H!!Luzenberg! ! ! Provost Marshal! ! ! ! Ono- 
 
 183 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lona, Miss.," with a gasp of astonishment that raised 
 a burst of laughter against me. Thought he was 
 taken prisoner long ago! At all events, I didn't 
 know he had turned banker, or that his valuable 
 autograph was worth a dollar! 
 
 August 2ISt. 
 
 Miriam and mother are going to Baton Rouge in 
 a few hours, to see if anything can be saved from the 
 general wreck. From the reports of the removal of 
 the Penitentiary machinery, State Library, Washing- 
 ton Statue, etc., we presume that that part of the 
 town yet standing is to be burnt like the rest. I 
 think, though, that mother has delayed too long. 
 However, I dreamed last night that we had saved a 
 great deal, in trunks; and my dreams sometimes 
 come true. Waking with that impression, I was sur- 
 prised, a few hours after, to hear mother's sudden 
 determination. But I also dreamed I was about to 
 marry a Federal officer! That was in consequence of 
 having answered the question, whether I would do 
 so, with an emphatic "Yes! if I loved him," which 
 will probably ruin my reputation as a patriot in this 
 parish. Bah! I am no bigot! — or fool either. . . . 
 
 August 23d. 
 Yesterday Anna and I spent the day with Lilly, 
 and the rain in the evening obliged us to stay all 
 night. Dr. Perkins stopped there, and repeated the 
 same old stories we have been hearing, about the 
 powder placed under the State House and Garrison, 
 
 184 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to blow them up, if forced to evacuate the town. 
 He confirms the story about all the convicts being set 
 free, and the town being pillaged by the negroes and 
 the rest of the Yankees. He says his own slaves told 
 him they were allowed to enter the houses and help 
 themselves, and what they did not want the Yankees 
 either destroyed on the spot, or had it carried to the 
 Garrison and burned. They also bragged of having 
 stopped ladies on the street, cut their necklaces 
 from their necks, and stripped the rings from their 
 fingers, without hesitation. It may be that they 
 were just bragging to look great in the eyes of their 
 masters; I hope so, for Heaven help them if they fall 
 into the hands of the Confederates, if it is true. 
 
 I could not record all the stories of wanton de- 
 struction that reached us. I would rather not be- 
 lieve that the Federal Government could be so dis- 
 graced by its own soldiers. Dr. Day says they left 
 nothing at all in his house, and carried everything 
 off from Dr. Enders's. He does not believe we have 
 a single article left in ours. I hope they spared Mir- 
 iam's piano. But they say the soldiers had so many 
 that they offered them for sale at five dollars apiece ! 
 We heard that the town had been completely evacu- 
 ated, and all had gone to New Orleans except three 
 gunboats that were preparing to shell, before leav- 
 ing. 
 
 This morning Withers's battery passed Mr. Elder's 
 on their way to Port Hudson, and stopped to get 
 water. There were several buckets served by several 
 
 185 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 servants ; but I took possession of one, to their great 
 amusement. What a profusion of thanks over a can 
 of water! It made me smile, and they smiled to see 
 my work, so it was all very funny. It was astonish- 
 ing to see the number of Yankee canteens in the pos- 
 session of our men. Almost all those who fought at 
 Baton Rouge are provided with them. In their can- 
 vas and wire cases, with neat stoppers, they are 
 easily distinguished from our rough, flat, tin ones. 
 I declare I felt ever so important in my new situa- 
 tion as waiting-maid! 
 
 There is very little we would not do for our soldiers, 
 though. There is mother, for instance, who got on 
 her knees to bathe the face and hands of a fever- 
 struck soldier of the Arkansas, while the girls held 
 the plates of those who were too weak to hold them 
 and eat at the same time. Blessed is the Confederate 
 soldier who has even toothache, when there are 
 women near! What sympathies and remedies are 
 volunteered! I always laugh, as I did then, when I 
 think of the supposed wounded man those girls dis- 
 covered on that memorable Arkansas day. I must 
 first acknowledge that it was my fault; for seized 
 with compassion for a man supported by two others 
 who headed the procession, I cried, "Oh, look! he 
 is wounded!" "Oh, poor fellow!" screamed the 
 others, while tears and exclamations flowed abun- 
 dantly, until one of the men, smiling humorously, 
 cried out, "Nothing the matter with him!" and on 
 nearer view, I perceived it was laziness, or perhaps 
 
 1 86 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 something else, and was forced to laugh at the 
 streaming eyes of those tender-hearted girls. 
 
 August 24th, Sunday. 
 
 Soon after dinner yesterday two soldiers stopped 
 here, and requested permission to remain all night. 
 The word "soldier" was enough for us; and without 
 even seeing them, Anna and I gladly surrendered 
 our room, and said we would sleep in Mrs. Badger's, 
 instead. However, I had no curiosity to see the 
 heroes, and remained up here reading until the bell 
 summoned me to supper, when I took my seat with- 
 out looking at them, as no introduction was possible, 
 from their having refrained from giving their names. 
 
 Presently I heard the words, "That retreat from 
 Norfolk was badly conducted." I looked up, and 
 saw before me a rather good-looking man covered 
 with the greatest profusion of gold cloth and buttons, 
 for which I intuitively despised him. The impulse 
 seized me, so I spoke. "Were you there?" " No; but 
 near by. I was there with the First Louisiana for 
 'most a year." "Do you know George Morgan?" 
 "Know George? Yes, indeed! You are his sister." 
 This was an assertion; but I bowed assent, and he 
 went on, "Thought so, from the resemblance. I 
 remember seeing you ten years ago, when you were 
 a very little girl. I used to be at your house with the 
 boys; we were schoolmates." I remarked that I had 
 no recollection of him. "Of course not," he said, 
 but did not inform me of his name. He talked very 
 
 187 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 familiarly of the boys, and said he had met them all 
 at Richmond. Next he astounded me by saying he 
 was a citizen of Baton Rouge, though he had been 
 almost four years in New York before the war broke 
 out. He was going to town to look after the " prop- 
 erty," hearing his father had gone to France. An 
 inhabitant of that city, who was so familiar with my 
 brothers and me, and with whom I was not ac- 
 quainted ! Here was a riddle to solve. Let us see who 
 among our acquaintances had gone to France. I 
 could think of none. I made up my mind to find out 
 his name if I had to ask it. 
 
 All through supper he talked, and when, in coun- 
 try style, the gentlemen left us at table, I found the 
 curiosity of the others was even more excited than 
 mine. I was determined to know who he was, then. 
 
 In the parlor, he made some remark about never 
 having been in ladies' society the whole time he 
 was in Virginia. I expressed my surprise, as George 
 often wrote of the pleasant young ladies he met every- 
 where. "Oh, yes!" said monsieur, "but it is impos- 
 sible to do your duty as an officer, and be a lady's 
 man; so I devoted myself to my military profession 
 exclusively." "Insufferable puppy!" I said to my- 
 self. Then he told me of how his father thought he 
 was dead, and asked if I had heard of his rallying 
 twenty men at Manassas, and charging a Federal 
 regiment, which instantly broke? I honestly told 
 him, "No." "Iagoo, the great boaster," I decided. 
 Abruptly he said there were very few nice young 
 
 1 88 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ladies in Baton Rouge. "Probably so, in his circle," 
 I thought, while I dryly remarked, " Indeed?" "Oh, 
 yes! " and still more abruptly he said, "Ain't you the 
 youngest? — Yes! I thought so! I remember you 
 when you were a wee thing, so high," placing his 
 hand at a most insultingly short distance from the 
 floor. "Really I must ask your name," I said. He 
 hesitated a moment and then said in a low tone, "De 
 J ." " De What? " I absurdly asked, think- 
 ing I was mistaken. "A de J " he repeated. 
 
 I bowed slightly to express my satisfaction, said, 
 "Anna, we must retire," and with a good-night to 
 my newly discovered gentleman, went upstairs. 
 
 He is the one I heard George speak of last De- 
 cember when he was here, as having been court- 
 martialed, and shot, according to the universal belief 
 in the army ; that was the only time I had ever heard 
 his name, though I was quite familiar with the cart of 
 
 De J pere, as it perambulated the streets. My 
 
 first impressions are seldom erroneous. From the 
 first, I knew that man's respectability was derived 
 from his buttons. That is why he took such pride in 
 them, and contemplated them with such satisfac- 
 tion. They lent him social backbone enough to con- 
 verse so familiarly with me; without the effulgence 
 of that splendid gold, which he hoped would dazzle 
 my eye to his real position, he would have hardly 
 dared to "remember me when I was a wee thing, so 
 high." Is he the only man whose coat alone entitles 
 him to respectability? He may be colonel, for all I 
 
 189 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary ' 
 
 know; but still, he is A de J to me. He 
 
 talked brave enough to be general. 
 
 This morning I met him with a cordial "Good- 
 morning, Mr. de J ," anxious to atone for 
 
 several "snubs" I had given him, long before I 
 knew his name, last night ; you see I could afford to be 
 patronizing now. But the name probably, and the 
 fluency with which I pronounced it, proved too 
 much for him, and after "Good-morning, Miss Mor- 
 gan," he did not venture a word. We knew each 
 other then ; his name was no longer a secret. 
 
 August 25th. About 12 at night. 
 
 Sleep is impossible after all that I have heard, so, 
 after vainly endeavoring to follow the example of 
 the rest, and sleep like a Stoic, I have lighted my 
 candle and take to this to induce drowsiness. 
 
 Just after supper, when Anna and I were sitting 
 with Mrs. Carter in her room, I talking as usual of 
 home, and saying I would be perfectly happy if 
 mother would decide to remain in Baton Rouge and 
 brave the occasional shellings, I heard a well-known 
 voice take up some sentence of mine from a dark 
 part of the room, and with a cry of surprise, I was 
 hugging Miriam until she was breathless. Such a 
 forlorn creature! — so dirty, tired, and fatigued, as 
 to be hardly recognizable. We thrust her into a 
 chair, and made her speak. She had just come with 
 Charlie, who went after them yesterday; and had 
 left mother and the servants at a kind friend's, on 
 
 190 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the road. I never heard such a story as she told. I 
 was heartsick; but I laughed until Mrs. Badger grew 
 furious with me and the Yankees, and abused me 
 for not abusing them. 
 
 She says when she entered the house, she burst 
 into tears at the desolation. It was one scene of 
 ruin. Libraries emptied, china smashed, sideboards 
 split open with axes, three cedar chests cut open, 
 plundered, and set up on end ; all parlor ornaments 
 carried off — even the alabaster Apollo and Diana 
 that Hal valued so much. Her piano, dragged to the 
 centre of the parlor, had been abandoned as too heavy 
 to carry off; her desk lay open with all letters and 
 notes well thumbed and scattered around, while 
 Will's last letter to her was open on the floor, with 
 the Yankee stamp of dirty fingers. Mother's por- 
 trait half-cut from its frame stood on the floor. 
 Margret, who was present at the sacking, told how 
 she had saved father's. It seems that those who 
 wrought destruction in our house were all officers. 
 One jumped on the sofa to cut the picture down 
 (Miriam saw the prints of his muddy feet) when 
 Margret cried, " For God's sake, gentlemen, let it be ! 
 I'll help you to anything here. He's dead, and the 
 young ladies would rather see the house burn than 
 lose it ! " " I '11 blow your damned brains out," was the 
 "gentleman's " answer as he put a pistol to her head, 
 which a brother officer dashed away, and the picture 
 was abandoned for finer sport. All the others were 
 cut up in shreds. 
 
 191 
 
'A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Upstairs was the finest fun. Mother's beautiful 
 mahogany armoir, whose single door was an ex- 
 tremely fine mirror, was entered by crashing through 
 the glass, when it was emptied of every article, and 
 the shelves half-split, and half -thrust back crooked. 
 Letters, labeled by the boys " Private," were strewn 
 over the floor; they opened every armoir and 
 drawer, collected every rag to be found and littered 
 the whole house with them, until the wonder was, 
 where so many rags had been found. Father's 
 armoir was relieved of everything; Gibbes's hand- 
 some Damascus sword with the silver scabbard 
 included. All his clothes, George's, Hal's, Jimmy's, 
 were appropriated. They entered my room, broke 
 that fine mirror for sport, pulled down the rods 
 from the bed, and with them pulverized my toilet 
 set, taking also all Lydia's china ornaments I had 
 packed in the wash-stand. The debris filled my 
 basin, and ornamented my bed. My desk was broken 
 open. Over it was spread all my letters, and private 
 papers, a diary I kept when twelve years old, and 
 sundry tokens of dried roses, etc., which must have 
 been very funny, they all being labeled with the 
 donor's name, and the occasion. Fool ! how I writhe 
 when I think of all they saw ; the invitations to buggy 
 rides, concerts, "Compliments of," etc. — ! Lilly's 
 sewing-machine had disappeared; but as mother's 
 was too heavy to move, they merely smashed the 
 needles. 
 
 In the pillaging of the armoirs, they seized a pink 
 192 
 
SARAH FOWLER 
 
 Sully's portrait of Mrs. Morgan 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 flounced muslin of Miriam's, which one officer placed 
 on the end of a bayonet, and paraded round with, 
 followed by the others who slashed it with their 
 swords crying, "I have stuck the damned Secesh! 
 that's the time I cut her!" and continued their sport 
 until the rags could no longer be pierced. One seized 
 my bonnet, with which he decked himself, and ran 
 in the streets. Indeed, all who found such, rushed 
 frantically around town, by way of frolicking, with 
 the things on their heads. They say no frenzy could 
 surpass it. Another snatched one of my calico dresses, 
 and a pair of vases that mother had when she was 
 married, and was about to decamp when a Mrs. 
 Jones jerked them away, and carried them to her 
 boarding-house, and returned them to mother the 
 other day. Blessed be Heaven ! I have a calico dress ! 
 Our clothes were used for the vilest purposes, and 
 spread in every corner — at least those few that were 
 not stolen. 
 
 Aunt Barker's Charles tried his best to defend 
 the property. "Ain't you 'shamed to destroy all 
 dis here, that belongs to a poor widow lady who's 
 got two daughters to support?" he asked of an offi- 
 cer who was foremost in the destruction. "Poor? 
 Damn them ! I don't know when I have seen a house 
 furnished like this! Look at that furniture! They 
 poor!" was the retort, and thereupon the work went 
 bravely on, of making us poor, indeed. 
 
 It would have fared badly with us had we been 
 there. The servants say they broke into the house 
 
 i93 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 crying, "Where are those damned Secesh women? 
 We know they are hid in here, and we '11 make them 
 dance for hiding from Federal officers!" And they 
 could not be convinced that we were not there, until 
 they had searched the very garret. Wonder what 
 they would have done? Charles caught a Captain 
 Clark in the streets, when the work was almost over, 
 and begged him to put an end to it. The gentleman 
 went readily, but though the devastation was quite 
 evident, no one was to be seen, and he was about 
 to leave, when, insisting that there was some one 
 there, Charles drew him into my room, dived under 
 the bed, and drew from thence a Yankee captain, 
 by one leg, followed by a lieutenant, each with a 
 bundle of the boys' clothes, which they instantly 
 dropped, protesting they were only looking around 
 the house. The gentleman captain carried them off 
 to their superior. 
 
 Ours was the most shockingly treated house in the 
 whole town. We have the misfortune to be equally 
 feared by both sides, because we will blackguard 
 neither. So the Yankees selected the only house in 
 town that sheltered three forlorn women, to wreak 
 their vengeance on. From far and near, strangers 
 and friends flocked in to see the ravages committed. 
 Crowds rushed in before, crowds came in after, 
 Miriam and mother arrived, all apologizing for the 
 intrusion, but saying they had heard it was a sight 
 never before seen. So they let them examine to their 
 hearts' content; and Miriam says the sympathy of 
 
 194 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 all was extraordinary. A strange gentleman picked 
 up a piece of mother's mirror, which was as thick as 
 his finger, saying, "Madame, I should like to keep 
 this as a memento. I am about to travel through 
 Mississippi, and having seen what a splendid piece 
 of furniture this was, and the state your house is 
 left in, should like to show this as a specimen of 
 Yankee vandalism." 
 
 William Waller flew to our home to try to save 
 it ; but was too late. They say he burst into tears as 
 he looked around. While on his kind errand, another 
 band of Yankees burst into his house and left not 
 one article of clothing to him, except the suit he had 
 on. The whole talk is about our dreadful treatment 
 at the Yankees' hands. Dr. Day, and Dr. Enders, 
 in spite of the assertions of the former, lost nothing. 
 
 Well! I am beggared! Strange to say, I don't feel 
 it. Perhaps it is the satisfaction of knowing my fate 
 that makes me so cheerful that Mrs. Carter envied 
 my stoicism, while Mrs. Badger felt like beating me 
 because I did not agree that there was no such thing 
 as a gentleman in the Yankee army. I know Major 
 Drum for one, and that Captain Clark must be two, 
 and Mr. Biddle is three, and General Williams — 
 God bless him, wherever he is ! for he certainly acted 
 like a Christian. The Yankees boasted loudly that 
 if it had not been for him, the work would have been 
 done long ago. 
 
 And now, I am determined to see my home, be- 
 fore Yankee shells complete the work that Yankee 
 
 195 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 axes spared. So by sunrise, I shall post over to Mr. 
 Elder's, and insist on Charlie taking me to town with 
 him. I hardly think it is many hours off. I feel so 
 settled, so calm! Just as though I never meant to 
 sleep again. If I only had a desk, — a luxury I have 
 not enjoyed since I left home, — I could write for 
 hours still, without being sleepy; but this curved 
 attitude is hard on my stiff back, so good-night, while 
 I lie down to gain strength for a sight they say will 
 make me faint with distress. Nous verrons! If I 
 say I Won't, I know I '11 not cry. The Brunots lost 
 nothing at all from their house, thank Heaven for 
 the mercy! Only they lost all their money in their 
 flight. On the door, on their return, they found 
 written, "Ladies, I have done my best for you," 
 signed by a Yankee soldier, who they suppose to be 
 the one who has made it a habit of continually pass- 
 ing their house. 
 
 Forgot to say Miriam recovered my guitar from 
 the Asylum, our large trunk and father's papers 
 (untouched) from Dr. Enders's, and with her piano, 
 the two portraits, a few mattresses (all that is left 
 of housekeeping affairs), and father's law books, 
 carried them out of town. For which I say in all 
 humility, Blessed be God who has spared us so much. 
 
 Thursday, August 28th. 
 
 I am satisfied. I have seen my home again. Tues- 
 day I was up at sunrise, and my few preparations 
 were soon completed, and before any one was awake, 
 
 196 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I walked over to Mr. Elder's, through mud and dew, 
 to meet Charlie. Fortunate was it for me that I 
 started so early; for I found him hastily eating his 
 breakfast, and ready to leave. He was very much op- 
 posed to my going; and for some time I was afraid 
 he would force me to remain; but at last he con- 
 sented, — perhaps because I did not insist, — and 
 with wet feet and without a particle of breakfast, 
 I at length found myself in the buggy on the road 
 home. The ride afforded me a series of surprises. 
 Half the time I found myself halfway out of the little 
 low-necked buggy when I thought I was safely in; 
 and the other half, I was surprised to find myself 
 really in when I thought I was wholly out. And so 
 on, for mile after mile, over muddy roads, until we 
 came to a most terrific cross-road, where we were 
 obliged to pass, and which is best undescribed. Four 
 miles from town we stopped at Mrs. Brown's to see 
 mother, and after a few moments' talk, went on our 
 road. 
 
 I saw the first Yankee camp that Will Pinckney 
 and Colonel Bird had set fire to the day of the battle. 
 Such a shocking sight of charred wood, burnt clothes, 
 tents, and all imaginable articles strewn around, I 
 had never before seen. I should have been very 
 much excited, entering the town by the route our 
 soldiers took; but I was not. It all seemed tame and 
 familiar. I could hardly fancy I stood on the very 
 spot where the severest struggle had taken place. 
 The next turn of the road brought us to two graves, 
 
 197 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 one on each side of the road, the resting-place of two 
 who fell that day. They were merely left in the 
 ditch where they fell, and earth from the side was 
 pulled over them. When Miriam passed, parts of 
 their coats were sticking out of the grave ; but some 
 kind hand had scattered fresh earth over them when 
 I saw them. Beyond, the sight became more common. 
 I was told that their hands and feet were visible from 
 many. And one poor fellow lay unburied, just as he 
 had fallen, with his horse across him, and both skele- 
 tons. That sight I was spared, as the road near which 
 he was lying was blocked up by trees, so we were 
 forced to go through the woods, to enter, instead of 
 passing by, the Catholic graveyard. In the woods, we 
 passed another camp our men destroyed, while the 
 torn branches above testified to the number of shells 
 our men had braved to do the work. Next to Mr. 
 Barbee's were the remains of a third camp that was 
 burned; and a few more steps made me suddenly 
 hold my breath, for just before us lay a dead horse 
 with the flesh still hanging, which was hardly en- 
 durable. Close by lay a skeleton, — whether of 
 man or horse, I did not wait to see. Not a human 
 being appeared until we reached the Penitentiary, 
 which was occupied by our men. After that, I saw 
 crowds of wagons moving furniture out, but not a 
 creature that I knew. Just back of our house was 
 all that remained of a nice brick cottage — namely, 
 four crumbling walls. The offense was that the hus- 
 band was fighting for the Confederates; so the wife 
 
 198 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 was made to suffer, and is now homeless, like many 
 thousands besides. It really seems as though God 
 wanted to spare our homes. The frame dwellings 
 adjoining were not touched, even. The town was 
 hardly recognizable ; and required some skill to avoid 
 the corners blocked up by trees, so as to get in at all. 
 
 Our house could not be reached by the front, so 
 we left the buggy in the back yard, and running 
 through the lot without stopping to examine the 
 storeroom and servants' rooms that opened wide, I 
 went through the alley and entered by the front 
 door. 
 
 Fortunate was it for this record that I under- 
 took to describe the sacking only from Miriam's 
 account. If I had waited until now, it would never 
 have been mentioned ; for as I looked around, to at- 
 tempt such a thing seemed absurd. I stood in the 
 parlor in silent amazement; and in answer to Char- 
 lie's "Well?" I could only laugh. It was so hard to 
 realize. As I looked for each well-known article, 
 I could hardly believe that Abraham Lincoln's offi- 
 cers had really come so low down as to steal in such 
 a wholesale manner. The papier-mache workbox 
 Miriam had given me was gone. The baby sacque I 
 was crocheting, with all knitting needles and wools, 
 gone also. Of all the beautiful engravings of Annap- 
 olis that Will Pinckney had sent me, there remained 
 a single one. Gentlemen, my name is written on 
 each! Not a book remained in the parlor, except 
 "Idyls of the King," that contained my name also, 
 
 199 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and which, together with the door-plate, was the 
 only case in which the name of Morgan was spared. 
 They must have thought we were related to John 
 Morgan, and wreaked their vengeance on us for 
 that reason. Thanks for the honor, but there is not 
 the slightest connection! Where they did not carry 
 off articles bearing our name, they cut it off, as in 
 the visiting-cards, and left only the first name. 
 Every book of any value or interest, except Hume 
 and Gibbon, was "borrowed" permanently. I re- 
 gretted Macaulay more than all the rest. Brother's 
 splendid French histories went, too; all except 
 "L'Histoire de la Bastille." However, as they 
 spared father's law libraries (all except one volume 
 they used to support a flour barrel with, while they 
 emptied it near the parlor door), we ought to be 
 thankful. 
 
 The dining-room was very funny. I looked around 
 for the cut-glass celery and preserve dishes that were 
 to be part of my "dot," as mother always said, to- 
 gether with the champagne glasses that had figured 
 on the table the day that I was born ; but there re- 
 mained nothing. There was plenty of split-up fur- 
 niture, though. I stood in mother's room before the 
 shattered armoir, which I could hardly believe the 
 same that I had smoothed my hair before, as I left 
 home three weeks previously. Father's was split 
 across, and the lock torn off, and in the place of the 
 hundreds of articles it contained, I saw two bonnets 
 at the sight of which I actually sat down to laugh. 
 
 200 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 One was mother's velvet, which looked very much 
 like a football in its present condition. Mine was not 
 to be found, as the officers forgot to return it. Won- 
 der who has my imperial? I know they never saw 
 a handsomer one, with its black velvet, purple silk, 
 and ostrich feathers. 
 
 I went to my room. Gone was my small paradise! 
 Had this shocking place ever been habitable? The 
 tall mirror squinted at me from a thousand broken 
 angles. It looked so knowing! I tried to fancy the 
 Yankee officers being dragged from under my bed 
 by the leg, thanks to Charles ; but it seemed too ab- 
 surd; so I let them alone. My desk! What a sight! 
 The central part I had kept as a little curiosity shop 
 with all my little trinkets and keepsakes of which a 
 large proportion were from my gentlemen friends; 
 I looked for all I had left, found only a piece of the 
 McRae, which, as it was labeled in full, I was sur- 
 prised they had spared. Precious letters I found 
 under heaps of broken china and rags ; all my notes 
 were gone, with many letters. I looked for a letter 
 
 of poor , in cipher, with the key attached, and 
 
 name signed in plain hand. I knew it would hardly 
 be agreeable to him to have it read, and it certainly 
 would be unpleasant to me to have it published ; but 
 I could not find it. Miriam thinks she saw something 
 answering the description, somewhere, though. 
 
 Bah! What is the use of describing such a scene? 1 
 
 1 In her book, From Flag to Flag, Mrs. Eliza McHatton Ripley 
 gives a vivid description of Judge Morgan's house as she herself saw 
 it after the sacking. — W. D. 
 
 20 1 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Many suffered along with us, though none so se- 
 verely. Indeed, the Yankees cursed loudly at those 
 who did not leave anything worth stealing. They 
 cannot complain of us, on that score. All our hand- 
 some Brussels carpets, together with Lydia's fur, 
 were taken, too. What did they not take? In the 
 garret, in its darkest corner, a whole gilt-edged china 
 set of Lydia's had been overlooked ; so I set to work 
 and packed it up, while Charlie packed her furniture 
 in a wagon, to send to her father. 
 
 It was now three o'clock; and with my light linen 
 dress thrown off, I was standing over a barrel putting 
 in cups and saucers as fast as I could wrap them in 
 the rags that covered the floor, when Mr. Larguier 
 sent me a nice little dinner. I had been so many 
 hours without eating — nineteen, I think, during 
 three of which I had slept — that I had lost all 
 appetite; but nevertheless I ate it, to show my ap- 
 preciation. If I should hereafter think that the 
 quantity of rags was exaggerated, let me here state 
 that, after I had packed the barrel and china with 
 them, it made no perceptible diminution of the pile. 
 
 As soon as I had finished my task, Charlie was 
 ready to leave again ; so I left town without seeing, 
 or hearing, any one, or any thing, except what lay 
 in my path. As we drove out of the gate, I begged 
 Charlie to let me get my bird, as I heard Charles 
 Barker had him. A man was dispatched, and in a 
 few minutes returned with my Jimmy. I have since 
 heard that Tiche deserted him the day of the battle, 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 as I so much feared she would; and that Charles 
 found him late in the evening and took charge of 
 him. With my pet once more with me, we drove off 
 again. I cast many a longing look at the grave- 
 yard; but knowing Charlie did not want to stop, I 
 said nothing, though I had been there but once in 
 three months, and that once, six weeks ago. I could 
 see where the fence had been thrown down by our 
 soldiers as they charged the Federals, but it was 
 now replaced, though many a picket was gone. Once 
 more I stopped at Mrs. Brown's, while Charlie went 
 on to Clinton, leaving me to drive mother here in the 
 morning. Early yesterday, after seeing Miriam's 
 piano and the mattresses packed up and on the road, 
 we started off in the buggy, and after a tedious ride 
 through a melting sun, arrived here about three 
 o'clock, having again missed my dinner, which I 
 kept a profound secret until supper-time. 
 
 By next Ash Wednesday, I will have learned how 
 to fast without getting sick! Though very tired, I 
 sat sewing until after sunset, dictating a page and a 
 half to Anna, who was writing to Howell. 
 
 August 29, Clinton, La. 
 Noah's duck has found another resting-place! 
 Yesterday I was interrupted while writing, to pack 
 up for another move, it being impossible to find a 
 boarding-house in the neighborhood. We heard of 
 some about here, and Charlie had engaged a house 
 for his family, where the sen/ants were already set- 
 
 203 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tied, so I hurried off to my task. No easy one, either, 
 considering the heat and length of time allowed. 
 This time I ate dinner as I packed, again. About 
 four, finding Miriam did not come to Mr. Elder's as 
 she promised, I started over to General Carter's 
 with her clothes, and found her just getting into the 
 buggy to ride over, as I arrived warm, tired, hardly 
 able to stand. After taking her over, the General 
 sent the buggy back for Mrs. Carter and myself, 
 and soon we were all assembled waiting for the cars. 
 At last, determining to wait for them near the track, 
 we started oif again, General Carter driving me in 
 his buggy. I love General Carter. Again, after so 
 many kind invitations, he told me he was sorry we 
 would not remain with him; if we were content, he 
 would be only too happy to have us with him; and 
 spoke so kindly that I felt as though I had a Yankee 
 ball in my throat. I was disposed to be melancholy 
 anyway ; I could not say many words without chok- 
 ing. I was going from the kindest of friends to a 
 country where I had none at all; so could not feel 
 very gay. As we reached the track, the cars came 
 shrieking along. There was a pause, a scuffle, during 
 which the General placed me and my bird in a seat, 
 while Lilly, Charlie, Miriam, mother, five children, 
 and two servants, with all the baggage, were thrown 
 aboard some way, when with a shriek and a jerk we 
 were off again, without a chance of saying good- 
 bye, even. 
 
 I enjoyed that ride. It had but one fault ; and that 
 204 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 was, that it came to an end. I would have wished it 
 to spin along until the war was over, or we in a set- 
 tled home. But it ended at last, to Jimmy's great 
 relief, for he was too frightened to move even, and 
 only ventured a timid chirp if the car stopped, as if 
 to ask, " Is it over? " Nothing occurred of any inter- 
 est except once a little boy sent us slightly off the 
 track, by meddling with the brakes. 
 
 Landed at sunset, it is hard to fancy a more for- 
 lorn crew, while waiting at the depot to get the bag- 
 gage off before coming to the house. We burst out 
 laughing as we looked at each lengthened face. Such 
 a procession through the straggling village has hardly 
 been seen before. How we laughed at our forlorn 
 plight as we trudged through the hilly streets, — 
 they have no pavements here, — looking like emi- 
 grants from the Ould Counthry, as we have watched 
 them in New Orleans ! 
 
 At the house we found Tiche laid up. The loaded 
 wagon, with its baggage, four mules, three grown 
 servants, and four children, was precipitated from a 
 bridge twenty-five feet high, by the breaking of the 
 before-mentioned causeway, and landed with the 
 whole concern in deep water below. Wonderful to 
 relate, not a life was lost! The mattress on which the 
 negroes remained seated floated them off into shal- 
 low water. The only one hurt was Tiche, who had 
 her leg severely sprained. The baggage was after- 
 wards fished out, rather wet. In the mud next 
 morning (it happened late at night), Dophy found 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 a tiny fancy bottle that she had secreted from the 
 Yankees; a present from Clemmy Luzenberg, it was, 
 and one of two things left in my curiosity shop by 
 the Yankees. 
 
 After seeing everything in, we started off for the 
 hotel, where we arrived after dark, rather tired, I 
 think. Not a comfortable house, either, unless you 
 call a bare, unfurnished, dirty room without shutter 
 or anything else, comfortable ; particularly when you 
 are to sleep on the floor with four children and three 
 grown people, and a servant. After breakfast we 
 came here until we can find a place to settle in, 
 which Mr. Marsden has promised to attend to for 
 us. It is rather rough housekeeping yet, but Lilly 
 has not yet got settled. Our dinner was rather 
 primitive. There was a knife and fork to carve the 
 meat, and then it was finished with spoons. I sat on 
 the floor with my plate, and a piece of cornbread 
 (flour not to be bought at any price) and ate with 
 my fingers — a new experience. I found that water 
 can be drunk out of a cup! 
 
 Ouf! I am tired! 
 
 August 30th. 
 
 Still no prospect of a lodging; so here we remain. 
 I never before lived in a house without a balcony, 
 and have only now found out how inconvenient it is. 
 The whole establishment consists of two rooms on 
 each side of a passage as wide as the front door ; and 
 as it has a very low ceiling, with no opening, and no 
 shade near, it is decidedly the warmest spot I ever 
 
 206 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 inhabited. We all sleep on the floor and keep our 
 clothes in our trunks — except Lilly, who has an 
 armoir without doors. Knives and forks for dinner 
 to-day, though the table still consists of a single 
 plank. The house really has a suffocating effect on 
 me, there is such a close look about it. The front is 
 fully a foot below the level of the street, while quite 
 a flight of steps leads from the back door to the yard. 
 In fact, the whole town consists of abrupt little 
 mounds. It is rather a pretty place; but Heaven 
 save me from the misery of living in it! Miriam is 
 crazy to remain — even advocates that dirty, bare, 
 shutterless boarding-house where we passed the 
 first night, from what attraction I cannot imagine. I 
 am just as anxious to get into the country. I would 
 hate the dull round of this little place ; I prefer soli- 
 tude where I can do as I please without being 
 observed. Here we are as well known by people we 
 never before heard of as though we were fellow- 
 citizens. 
 
 September 1st, Monday. 
 I woke up this morning and, to my great surprise, 
 find that summer has already passed away, and that 
 we have already entered the first month of fall. 
 Where has the summer gone to? Since the taking of 
 Fort Jackson, the days have gone by like a dream. 
 I had hardly realized spring, when now I find it is 
 autumn. I am content to let the time fly, though, as 
 every day brings us nearer Peace — or something 
 else. 
 
 207 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 How shockingly I write ! Will I ever again have a 
 desk or a table to write on? At present, my seat is a 
 mattress, and my knee my desk; and that is about 
 the only one I have had since the 2d of August. This 
 is the dreariest day I have seen for some time. Out- 
 side, it has been raining since daybreak, and inside, 
 no one feels especially bright or cheerful. I some- 
 times wish mother would carry out her threat and 
 brave the occasional shellings at Baton Rouge. I 
 would dare anything, to be at home again. I know 
 that the Yankees have left us little besides the bare 
 house; but I would be grateful for the mere shelter 
 of the roof. I often fancy how we will miss little 
 articles that we thought necessary to our comfort 
 before, when we return. . . . And the shoes I paid five 
 dollars for, and wore a single time? I am wishing I 
 had them now that I am almost barefooted, and can- 
 not find a pair in the whole country. . . . Would it not 
 be curious, if one of these days while traveling in the 
 North (if I ever travel again), I should find some 
 well-loved object figuring in a strange house as a 
 "trophy of the battle of Baton Rouge"? I should 
 have to seek for them in some very low house, per- 
 haps; respectable people had very little to do with 
 such disgraceful work, I fancy. Suppose I should 
 see father's cigar-stand, for instance, or Miriam's 
 little statues? I wonder if the people would have 
 the conscience to offer to return them? A young 
 lady, passing by one of the pillaged houses, expressed 
 her surprise at seeing an armoir full of women's and 
 
 208 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 children's clothes being emptied, and the contents 
 tied up in sheets. "What can you do with such 
 things?" she asked a soldier who seemed more 
 zealous than the rest. '.'Ain't I got a wife and four 
 children in the North? " was the answer. So we, who 
 have hardly clothes enough for our own use, are 
 stripped to supply Northerners! 
 
 One would think that I had no theme save the 
 wreck of our house, if they read this. But I take it 
 all out in here. I believe I must be made of wood, or 
 some other tough material, not to feel it more. I 
 sometimes ask myself if it is because I did not care 
 for home, that I take it so quietly now. But I know 
 that is not it. I was wild about it before I knew what 
 had happened ; since I learned all, few are the words 
 that have escaped my lips concerning it. Perhaps 
 it is because I have the satisfaction of knowing what 
 all women crave for — the Worst. Indeed it is a con- 
 solation in such days as these when truth concerning 
 either side is difficult to discover. The certainty of 
 anything, fortune or misfortune, is comfort to me. 
 I really feel sorry for the others who suffered ; but it 
 does not strike me that sympathy is necessary in 
 our case. 
 
 Mrs. Flynn came to Lilly's room, when she heard 
 of it, well prepared for sympathy, with a large 
 handkerchief and a profusion of tears, when she was 
 horrified to find both her and Miriam laughing over 
 the latter's description of some comical scene that 
 met her sight in one of the rooms. Seems to me that 
 
 209 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tears on all occasions come in as the fortieth article, 
 to the articles of belief of some people. 
 
 September 3d. 
 
 Political news it would be absurd to record; for 
 our information is more than limited, being fre- 
 quently represented by a blank. Of the thirteen 
 battles that Gibbes has fought in, I know the names 
 of four only: Bull Run, Stonebridge, Port Republic, 
 and Cedar Run. Think of all I have yet to hear! 
 To-day comes the news of another grand affair, the 
 defeat of McClellan, Pope, and Burnside combined. 
 If I dared believe it! But accounts are too meagre 
 as yet. Both Gibbes and George were in it, if there 
 was a fight, and perhaps Jimmy, too. Well! I must 
 wait in patience. We have lost so much already that 
 God will surely spare those three to us. Oh ! if they 
 come again, if we can meet once more, what will the 
 troubles of the last six months signify? If I dared 
 hope that next summer would bring us Peace! I 
 always prophesy it just six months off; but do I 
 believe it? 
 
 Indeed, I don't know what will become of us if it is 
 delayed much longer. If we could only get home, it 
 would be another thing; but boarding, how long will 
 mother's two hundred and fifty last? And that is all 
 the money she has. As to the claims, amounting to 
 a small fortune, she might as well burn them. They 
 will never be paid. But if we get home, what will we 
 do for bedding? The Yankees did not leave us a 
 
 210 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 single comfort, and only two old bars and a pair of 
 ragged sheets, which articles are not to be replaced 
 at any price in the Confederacy, so we must go 
 without. How glad I am that we gave all our blan- 
 kets to our soldiers last summer! So much saved 
 from the Yankees! 
 
 Poor Lavinia ! She fancies us comfortably settled 
 at home; I dare say she spends all her time in pic- 
 turing to herself what we may be doing, and recall- 
 ing each piece of furniture the rooms contained. 
 Wonder if she would not be shocked if the real scene 
 were suddenly revealed to her, and she should see 
 the desolated house and see us fugitives in a strange 
 town. Wonder how the cry of "Where are those 
 three damned Secesh women?" would have struck 
 her, had she heard the strange oaths and seen the 
 eager search which followed ? I dare say it would 
 have frightened her more than it did me when I was 
 told of it. William Waller says it is God's mercy 
 that we had escaped already, for we certainly would 
 have suffered. I hardly think we could have been 
 harmed, though, and shall always regret that we did 
 not return immediately after the battle. It took 
 them from that day to the evacuation to finish the 
 work; and I rather think that our presence would 
 have protected the house. 
 
 Our servants they kindly made free, and told 
 them they must follow them (the officers). Margret 
 was boasting the other day of her answer, "I don't 
 want to be any free-er than I is now — I '11 stay with 
 
 211 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 my mistress," when Tiche shrewdly remarked, 
 u Pshaw! Don't you know that if I had gone, you 'd 
 have followed me?" The conduct of all our servants 
 is beyond praise. Five thousand negroes followed 
 their Yankee brothers from the town and neighbor- 
 hood ; but ours remained. During the fight, or flight, 
 rather, a fleeing officer stopped to throw a musket 
 in Charles Barker's hands, and bade him fight for his 
 liberty. Charles drew himself up, saying, "I am 
 only a slave, but I am a Secesh nigger, and won't 
 fight in such a d crew!" Exit Yankee, continu- 
 ing his flight down to the riverside. 
 
 September 4th. 
 
 I hear to-day that the Brunots have returned to 
 Baton Rouge, determined to await the grand finale 
 there. They, and two other families, alone remain. 
 With these exceptions, and a few Dutch and Irish 
 who cannot leave, the town is perfectly deserted by 
 all except the Confederate soldiers. I wish I was 
 with them ! If all chance of finding lodgings here is 
 lost, and mother remains with Lilly, as she some- 
 times seems more than half inclined, and Miriam 
 goes to Lin wood, as she frequently threatens, I 
 believe I will take a notion, too, and go to Mrs. 
 Brunot! I would rather be there, in all the uncer- 
 tainty, expecting to be shelled or burnt out every 
 hour, than' here. Ouf ! what a country ! Next time 
 I go shopping, I mean to ask some clerk, out of 
 curiosity, what they do sell in Clinton. The follow- 
 ing is a list of a few of the articles that shopkeepers 
 
 212 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 actually laugh at you if you ask for: Glasses, flour, 
 soap, starch, coffee, candles, matches, shoes, combs, 
 guitar-strings, bird-seed, — in short, everything that 
 I have heretofore considered as necessary to exis- 
 tence. If any one had told me I could have lived 
 off of cornbread, a few months ago, I would have 
 been incredulous ; now I believe it, and return an in- 
 ward grace for the blessing at every mouthful. I have 
 not tasted a piece of wheatbread since I left home, 
 and shall hardly taste it again until the war is over. 
 
 I do not like this small burg. It is very straggling 
 and pretty, but I would rather not inhabit it. We 
 are as well known here as though we carried our 
 cards on our faces, and it is peculiarly disagreeable 
 to me to overhear myself spoken about, by people I 
 don't know, as "There goes Miss Morgan," as that 
 young man, for instance, remarked this morning to a 
 crowd, just as I passed. It is not polite, to say the 
 least. 
 
 Will Carter was here this morning and told me he 
 saw Theodore Pinckney in the streets. I suppose he 
 is on his way home, and think he will be a little dis- 
 appointed in not finding us at Linwood as he 
 expects, and still more so to hear he passed through 
 the very town where we were staying, without 
 knowing it. f 
 
 Beech Grove, 
 September 6th, Saturday. 
 
 Another perch for Noah's duck! Where will I be 
 in a week or two from this? I shall make a mark, 
 
 213 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 twenty pages from here, and see where I shall be 
 when I reach it. Here, most probably; but oh, if I 
 could then be at home ! General Carter, who spent 
 the evening with us day before yesterday, remarked 
 that the first thing he heard as he reached town was 
 that all the gentlemen and ladies of Clinton were 
 hunting for country lodgings for us. It was pretty 
 much the case. The General was as kind as ever, 
 bless his gray head ! and made us promise to go back 
 to Linwood with him when he passes back next 
 week. This is the way we keep the promise — com- 
 ing out here. 
 
 Early yesterday morning we received a note from 
 Eliza Haynes, one of our indefatigable agents, saying 
 her grandmother, Mrs. McCay, had consented to 
 receive us, and would come for us in the evening. 
 Immediately my packing task was begun. But im- 
 agine my disappointment, just as I had finished one 
 trunk, to hear mother announce her determination 
 to let us go alone, while she remained with Lilly! 
 Prayers, entreaties, tears, arguments, all failed ; and 
 we were forced to submit. So with a heart fuller 
 than I can express, I repacked the trunk with 
 Miriam's and my clothing, and got ready to depart. 
 In the evening the carriage drove up to the door 
 with Eliza and her grandmother, and with a hasty 
 and rather choky good-bye to Lilly and mother, we 
 were hurried in, and in another moment were off. 
 
 I fancied the house would be north of Clinton, so 
 of course the horses took the road south. Then I 
 
 214 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 decided on a white cottage to the left of the road, 
 and about two miles out, found that it was to the 
 right, not painted, and no cottage at all, but a non- 
 descript building, besides. "Twas ever thus from 
 childhood's hour!" When did I ever fancy any- 
 thing exactly as it was? But the appearance does 
 not affect the house, which is really very comfort- 
 able, though apparently unfinished. The same ob- 
 jection might be made to it that I made to Mrs. 
 Moore's, for there is not a shutter on the place. But 
 fine shade trees take their place, and here I do not 
 feel the want of them so much, as our room is in the 
 back of the house, to the west, where the rising sun 
 cannot salute my nose as it did at Mrs. Moore's. As 
 to what effect the setting sun has, I must wait for 
 the evening to decide, though I always enjoy that. 
 At Green well, we used to walk a mile away from 
 home to see the sun set in an open field. 
 
 I find Mrs. McCay an excellent, plain old lady, 
 with neither airs nor pretentions, and very kind- 
 hearted. Here she lives alone, with the exception of 
 an orphan girl called Jane, whose position, half- 
 menial, half-equal, it would be hard to define. Poor 
 girl ! the name of orphan alone was enough to make 
 me sorry for her. She must be "Friday's child"! 
 she is so "ready and willing." Eliza, who it seems 
 stays a great deal with her grandmother, is one of 
 the brightest little girls I have seen for a long while. 
 She sings and plays on the piano with a style and 
 assurance that I can only mutely covet. Why can- 
 
 215 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 not I have the confidence I see all others possess? 
 She took me to the gin-house last evening, though I 
 could not see much, as it was almost sunset when we 
 arrived. An early tea, and singing, and music after, 
 completed our evening, and then we were shown to 
 our room. 
 
 Mrs. McCay has only room for us two, so it is 
 fortunate that mother would not come. She says 
 she wants us to spend a few days with her, to see if 
 we like it, or if we will be willing to be separated 
 from mother. In the mean time, we can look around 
 for lodgings in a larger and more comfortable place 
 where we can be together. She tells such stories 
 about the house Lilly lives in, of its age, and un- 
 healthiness, that I am frightened about mother. 
 She says she will die if she stays there this month, 
 Miriam and Eliza have gone to town to see them, 
 and are then going to Mrs. George's to see if she can 
 accommodate us. 
 
 I wanted to have a splendid dream last night, but 
 failed. It was pleasant, though, to dream of welcom- 
 ing George and Gibbes back. Jimmy I could not 
 see; and George was in deep mourning. I dreamed 
 of fainting when I saw him (a novel sensation, since 
 I never experienced it awake), but I speedily came 
 to, and insisted on his "pulling Henry Walsh's red 
 hair for his insolence," which he promised to do 
 instantly. How absurd! Dreams! dreams! That 
 pathetic "Miss Sarah, do you ever dream?" comes 
 vividly back to me sometimes. Dream? Don't I! 
 
 216 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 not the dreams that he meant; but royal, purple 
 dreams, that De Quincey could not purchase with 
 his opium ; dreams that I would not forego for all the 
 inducements that could be offered. I go to sleep, 
 and pay a visit to heaven or fairyland. I have white 
 wings, and with another, float in rosy clouds, and 
 look down on the moving world ; or I have the power 
 to raise myself in the air without wings, and 
 silently float wherever I will, loving all things and 
 feeling that God loves me. I have heard Paul 
 preach to the people, while I stood on a fearful rock 
 above. I have been to strange lands and great 
 cities; I have talked with people I have never 
 beheld. Charlotte Bronte has spent a week with me 
 — in my dreams — and together we have talked of 
 her sad life. Shakespeare and I have discussed his 
 works, seated t^te-a-t^te over a small table. He 
 pointed out the character of each of his heroines, 
 explaining what I could not understand when awake ; 
 and closed the lecture with "You have the tenderest 
 heart I have ever read, or sung of" — which compli- 
 ment, considering it as original with him, rather 
 than myself, waked me up with surprise. 
 
 Clinton, September 9th, Tuesday. 
 Back again ! For how long, I know not. At sunset 
 Saturday, Eliza and Miriam returned to Mrs. 
 McCay's with Nannie Davidson. Mother had 
 proved obdurate and refused to leave Clinton; so 
 they had all gone on, and spent the day with Mrs. 
 
 217 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Haynes instead of going to Mrs. George's. After 
 my quiet, solitary day, I was glad to see them again, 
 particularly as they brought confirmation of the 
 great victory in Virginia. It is said the enemy were 
 cut off from Washington, and that we were pursuing 
 them. my brothers! If God will only spare them ! 
 I envy Lydia who is so near them, and knows all, 
 and can take care of them if they are hurt. It will be 
 several days at least, before we can hear from them, 
 if we hear at all; for Jimmy has never yet written a 
 line, and George has written but once since the tak- 
 ing of the forts, and that was before the battle of 
 Chickahominy. We can only wait patiently. Per- 
 haps General Carter will bring us news. 
 
 Mrs. Haynes sent a very pressing invitation for us 
 to spend the next day with her, so, although it was 
 Sunday, we went. I am becoming dreadfully irre- 
 ligious. I have not been to church since Mr. 
 Gierlow went to Europe last July. It is perfectly 
 shocking; but the Yankees have kept me running 
 until all pious dispositions have been shaken out of 
 me; so they are to blame. Like heathens, we called 
 on Miss Comstock as we passed through town, and 
 spent an hour with her. Landed at Mr. Haynes's, 
 we had ample time to look around before he and his 
 wife got back from church. Here again I found what 
 seems to be the prevailing style of the country, wide- 
 spread doors and windows, with neither blinds nor 
 shade trees to keep off the glare of the sun. The 
 dining-room was a wide hall, where the rising sun 
 
 218 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 shone in your face at breakfast, and at dinner, being 
 
 directly overhead, seemed to shine in at both ends at 
 
 once. A splendid arrangement for a Fire Worshiper; 
 
 but I happened to be born in America, instead of 
 
 Persia, so fail to appreciate it. 
 
 September ioth. 
 
 Yesterday I was interrupted to undertake a very 
 important task. The evening before, mother and 
 Lilly happened to be in a store where two officers 
 were buying materials for making shirts, and volun- 
 teered to make them for them, which offer they 
 gladly accepted, though neither party knew the 
 other. They saw that they were friends of Charlie, 
 so had no scruples about offering their services ; the 
 gentlemen saw that they were ladies, and very kind 
 ones, besides, so made no difficulty about accepting. 
 Lilly undertook one of purple merino, and I took a 
 dark blue one. Miriam nominally helped her; but 
 her very sore finger did not allow her to do much. 
 Mother slightly assisted me; but I think Lilly and I 
 had the best of the task. All day we worked, and 
 when evening came, continued sewing by the light 
 of these miserable home-made candles. Even then 
 we could not finish, but had to get up early this 
 morning, as the gentlemen were to leave for Port 
 Hudson at nine o'clock. We finished in good time, 
 and their appearance recompensed us for our 
 trouble. Lilly's was trimmed with folds of blue 
 from mine, around collar, cuffs, pockets, and down 
 the front band; while mine was pronounced a 
 
 219 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 chef d'oeuvre, trimmed with bias folds of tiny red and 
 black plaid. With their fresh colors and shining 
 pearl buttons, they were really very pretty. We 
 sent word that we would be happy to make as many 
 as they chose for themselves or their friends, and the 
 eldest, with many fears that it was an "imposition" 
 and we were "too good," and much more of the same 
 kind, left another one with Charlie for us. We cannot 
 do too much, or even enough, for our soldiers. I 
 believe that is the universal sentiment of the women 
 of the South. 
 
 Well, but how did we get back here? I hardly 
 know. It seems to me we are being swayed by some 
 kind of destiny which impels us here or there, with 
 neither rhyme nor reason, and whether we will or no. 
 Such homeless, aimless, purposeless, wandering 
 individuals are rarely seen. From one hour to an- 
 other, we do not know what is to become of us. We 
 talk vaguely of going home "when the Yankees go 
 away." When will that be? One day there is not a 
 boat in sight; the next, two or three stand off from 
 shore to see what is being done, ready, at the first 
 sight of warlike preparation, to burn the town down. 
 It is particularly unsafe since the news from Vir- 
 ginia, when the gunboats started from Bayou Goula, 
 shelling the coast at random, and destroying every- 
 thing that was within reach, report says. Of course, 
 we cannot return to our homes when commissioned 
 officers are playing the part of pirates, burning, 
 plundering, and destroying at will, with neither law 
 
 220 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 nor reason. Donaldson ville they burned before I 
 left Baton Rouge, because some fool fired a shotgun 
 at a gunboat some miles above; Bayou Sara they 
 burned while we were at General Carter's, for some 
 equally reasonable excuse. The fate of Baton Rouge 
 hangs on a still more slender thread. I would give 
 worlds if it were all over. 
 
 At Mrs. Haynes's we remained all night, as she 
 sent the carriage back without consulting us. Mon- 
 day we came to town and spent the day with Lilly. 
 How it was, I can't say; but we came to the conclu- 
 sion that it was best to quit our then residence, and 
 either go back to Linwood or to a Mrs. Somebody 
 who offered to take us as boarders. We went back 
 to Mrs. McCay's, to tell her of our determination, 
 and in the morning took leave of her and came back 
 home. 
 
 We hear so much news, piece by piece, that one 
 would imagine some definite result would follow, 
 and bring us Peace before long. The Virginia news, 
 after being so great and cheering, has suddenly 
 ceased to come. No one knows the final result. The 
 last report was that we held Arlington Heights. 
 Why not Washington, consequently? Cincinnati 
 (at last accounts) lay at our mercy. From Coving- 
 ton, Kirby Smith had sent over a demand for its 
 surrender in two hours. Would it not be glorious to 
 avenge New Orleans by such a blow? But since last 
 night the telegraph is silent. 
 
 News has just come of some nice little affair 
 
 221 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 between our militia in Opelousas and the Yankees 
 from New Orleans, in which we gave them a good 
 thrashing, besides capturing arms, prisoners, and 
 ammunition. "It never rains but it pours" is 
 George's favorite proverb. With it comes the 
 "rumor" that the Yankees are preparing to evacu- 
 ate the city. If it could be! Oh, if God would only 
 send them back to their own country, and leave 
 ours in peace! I wish them no greater punishment 
 than that they may be returned to their own homes, 
 with the disgrace of their outrages here ever before 
 their eyes. That would kill an honest man, I am 
 sure. 
 
 Sunday, September 14th, 1862. 
 I have been so busy making Lieutenant Bourge's 
 shirt that I have not had time to write, besides hav- 
 ing very little to write about. So my industry saved 
 my paper and spared these pages a vast amount of 
 trash. I would not let any one touch Lieutenant 
 Bourge's shirt except myself ; and last evening, 
 when I held it up completed, the loud praises it 
 received satisfied me it would answer. Miriam and 
 Miss Ripley declared it the prettiest ever made. It 
 is dark purple merino. The bosom I tucked with 
 pleats a quarter of an inch deep, all the way up to 
 the collar, and stitched a narrow crimson silk braid 
 up the centre to hold it in its place. Around the 
 collar, cuffs, pockets, and band down the front, the 
 red cord runs, forming a charming contrast to the 
 
 222 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 dark foundation. Indeed, I devoted the sole article 
 the Yankees let fall from my two workboxes — a 
 bunch of soutache — to the work. Large white 
 pearl buttons completed the description, and my 
 shirt is really as quiet, subdued, and pretty a one as 
 I ever saw. I should first hear the opinion of the 
 owner, though. If he does not agree with all the 
 others, I shall say he has no taste. 
 
 I got a long sweet letter from Sophie on Friday 
 that made me happy for the whole day. They were 
 about leaving for Alexandria. I was glad to hear 
 they would be out of danger, but still I was sorry 
 they were going so far away. I have been laying a 
 hundred wild schemes to reach Baton Rouge and 
 spend a day or two with them, which is impossible 
 now. Sophie writes just as she talks — and that 
 means remarkably well, so I can at least have the 
 pleasure of corresponding. At Dr. Carnal's they 
 will be out of the reach of all harm and danger; so I 
 ought to rejoice. There is one thing in which Sophie 
 and I agree, and that is in making Stonewall Jack- 
 son our hero. Talk of Beauregard! he never had 
 my adoration; but Stonewall is the greatest man 
 of the age, decidedly. 
 
 Still no authentic reports of the late battles in 
 Virginia. I say late, referring to those fought two 
 weeks ago. From the Federal accounts, glowing as 
 they usually are, I should gather the idea that their 
 rout was complete. I cannot imagine why we can 
 hear nothing more from our own side. . . . 
 
 223 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I think my first act on my return home will be to 
 take a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, two luxuries 
 of which I have been deprived for a long while. 
 Miriam vows to devour an unheard-of number of 
 biscuits, too. How many articles we considered as 
 absolutely necessary, before, have we now been 
 obliged to dispense with! Nine months of the year 
 I reveled in ice, thought it impossible to drink water 
 without it. Since last November, I have tasted it 
 but once, and that once by accident. And oh, yes! 
 I caught some hail-stones one day at Linwood ! Ice- 
 cream, lemonade, and sponge cake was my chief 
 diet; it was a year last July since I tasted the two 
 first, and one since I have seen the last. Bread I 
 believed necessary to life; vegetables, senseless. The 
 former I never see, and I have been forced into culti- 
 vating at least a toleration of the latter. Snap beans 
 I can actually swallow, sweet potatoes I really like, 
 and one day at Dr. Nolan's I "bolted" a mouthful 
 of tomatoes, and afterwards kept my seat with the 
 heroism of a martyr. These are the minor trials of 
 war. If that were all — if coarse, distasteful food 
 were the only inconvenience! 
 
 When I think of what Lavinia must suffer so far 
 from us, and in such ignorance of our condition, our 
 trials seem nothing in comparison to hers. And 
 think how uneasy Brother must be, hearing of the 
 battle, and not knowing where we fled to! For he 
 has not heard of us for almost two months. In return 
 we are uneasy about him and Sister. If New Orleans 
 
 224 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 is attacked, what will become of them with all those 
 
 children? 
 
 Tuesday, September 16th. 
 
 Yesterday Miriam determined to go to Lin wood, 
 and consequently I had a severe task of trunk- 
 packing, one of my greatest delights, however. I 
 hate to see any one pack loosely or in a slovenly 
 manner. Perhaps that is the reason I never let any 
 one do it if I am able to stand. This morning was 
 appointed as our day for leaving, but I persuaded 
 her to wait until to-morrow, in hope that either the 
 General, or news from Virginia, would arrive this 
 evening. Bless this village! It is the meanest place 
 for news that I ever was in. Not a word can be 
 gathered, except what is false or unfounded; and 
 they are even tired of that, in the last few days. 
 
 Talk of Baton Rouge turning Yankee, as the 
 report went here! Of the three or four there who 
 took the oath, not one can be compared to some loyal 
 citizens of this small burg. Why, I talked to two 
 gentlemen yesterday who, if it were not for the dis- 
 grace and danger incurred by bearing the name, I 
 should style Union men, and talked or rather listened 
 to them, until my spirits were reduced to the lowest 
 ebb. People were shocked at our daring to believe 
 there lived gentlemen and Christians in the North — 
 I mean those wild fanatics, who could only take in 
 one idea at a time, and rarely divested their brains 
 of that one to make room for a newer one, were 
 shocked at our belief; but if they could converse 
 
 225 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with a few here, that I could point out, our gnat of 
 common sense would be swallowed by this be- 
 hemoth of heterodoxy. 
 
 This morning Mrs. Bar, Miss Bernard, and a Miss 
 Mud came to town and surprised us by a most unex- 
 pected visit. They spent the day with us, and have 
 just now driven off on their return home, through 
 this drizzly, misting evening. A while ago a large 
 cavalry company passed, at the corner, on their way 
 from Port Hudson to Camp Moore, the report is. 
 They raised their hats to us, seeing us at the gate, 
 and we waved our handkerchiefs in return, each 
 with a silent "God bless you," I am sure. 
 
 As though to prove my charge unjust, news comes 
 pouring in. Note we a few items, to see how many 
 will prove false. First, we have taken Baltimore 
 without firing a gun ; Maryland has risen en masse to 
 join our troops ; Longstreet and Lee are marching on 
 Washington from the rear; the Louisiana troops are 
 ordered home to defend their own State — thank 
 God! if it will only bring the boys back! Then 
 comes tidings of nine gunboats at Baton Rouge; 
 Ponchatoula on the railroad taken by Yankees ; Camp 
 Moore and three batteries, ditto. Not so cheering! 
 If that is so, Clinton lies within reach, being thirty- 
 five miles off. 
 
 Leaving much the most valuable portion of our 
 clothing here, the Yankees will probably appropri- 
 ate what little they spared us and leave us fairly 
 destitute; for we take only summer clothes to Lin- 
 
 226 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 wood. I have plenty of underclothes, but the other 
 day, when I unpacked the large trunk from Dr. 
 Enders's, I found I had just two dresses for winter; 
 a handsome blue silk I bought just two years ago 
 last spring, and one heavy blue merino that does not 
 fit me. What an outfit for winter! Miriam has two 
 poplins and a black silk, and mother a wine-colored 
 merino, only. But each of us is blessed with a warm 
 cloak, and are correspondingly grateful. I was con- 
 fident I had saved my green, dark blue, and brown 
 silk dresses, but the Yankees saved them instead, 
 for me, or their suffering sweethearts, rather. On 
 the other hand, taking so many necessary articles 
 to Lin wood, the risk of losing them is the same. An 
 attack on Port Hudson is apprehended, and if it 
 falls, General Carter's house will be decidedly unsafe 
 from Yankee vengeance. The probability is that 
 it will burn, as they have been daily expecting ever 
 since the Yankees occupied Baton Rouge. The risk 
 seems equal, either way. Go or stay, the danger 
 seems the same. Shall we go, then, for variety, or die 
 here of stagnation while waiting for the Yankees to 
 make up their minds? I would rather be at neither 
 place, just now; in fact I could hardly name the 
 place I should like to be in now, unless it were Europe 
 or the Sandwich Islands; but I love Linwood and 
 its dear inhabitants, and under other circumstances 
 should be only too happy to be there. I was regret- 
 ting the other day that our life was now so monoto- 
 nous ; almost longed for the daily alarms we had when 
 
 227 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 under Yankee rule in Baton Rouge. Stirring times 
 are probably ahead. 
 
 Lin wood, 
 September 17th, Wednesday. 
 
 Still floating about! This morning after break- 
 fast, General Carter made his appearance, and in 
 answer to his question as to whether we were ready- 
 to leave with him, Miriam replied, "Yes, indeed!" 
 heartily, glad to get away from Clinton, where I 
 have detained her ever since the day Theodore 
 returned home, to her great disgust. As our trunk 
 was already packed, it did not take many minutes 
 to get ready ; and in a little while, with a protracted 
 good-bye, we were on our way to the depot, which 
 we reached some time before the cars started. 
 Though glad to leave Clinton, I was sorry to part 
 with mother. For ten days she has been unable to 
 walk, with a sore on her leg below the knee; and I 
 want to believe she will miss me while I am away. I 
 could not leave my bird in that close, ill-ventilated 
 house. He has never sung since I recovered him ; and 
 I attribute his ill health or low spirits to that 
 unhealthy place, and thought Linwood might be 
 beneficial to him, too; so brought him with me, to 
 see what effect a breath of pure air might have. 
 
 We were the only ladies on the cars, except Mrs. 
 Brown, who got off halfway; but in spite of that, 
 had a very pleasant ride, as we had very agreeable 
 company. The train only stopped thirteen times in 
 the twenty miles. Five times to clear the brushwood 
 
 228 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 from the telegraph lines, once running back a mile 
 to pick up a passenger, and so on, to the great indig- 
 nation of many of the passengers aboard, who would 
 occasionally cry out, "Hello! if this is the 'clearing- 
 up' train, we had better send for a hand-car!" 
 "What the devil's the matter now?" until the 
 General gravely assured them that it was an old 
 habit of this very accommodating train, which in 
 summer-time stopped whenever the passengers 
 wished to pick blackberries on the road. 
 
 Many soldiers were aboard on their way to Port 
 Hudson, to rejoin their companies. One gallant one 
 offered me a drink of water from his canteen, which 
 I accepted out of mere curiosity to see what water 
 from such a source tasted of. To my great surprise, 
 I found it tasted just like any other. The General 
 introduced a Mr. Crawford to us, who took the seat 
 next to me, as the one next to Miriam was already 
 occupied, and proved a very pleasant and talkative 
 compagnon de voyage. General Carter's query as to 
 my industry since he had seen me, brought my 
 acknowledgment of having made two shirts, one of 
 which I sent yesterday. Who to? was the next 
 question. I gave the name, adding that I did not 
 know the gentleman, and he was under the impres- 
 sion that it was made by mother. " I '11 see that he is 
 undeceived!" cried the General. "Hanged if I don't 
 tell him!" "Thirtieth Louisiana, you say?" queried 
 Mr. Crawford. "That is the very one I am going 
 to! I will tell him myself!" So my two zealous 
 
 229 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 champions went on, the General ending with "See 
 to it, Crawford; Mrs. Morgan shall not have the 
 credit!" as though there was any great merit in 
 sewing for one's countrymen ! Our new acquaintance 
 handed me from the cars as we reached Linwood, 
 and stood talking while the accommodating train 
 slowly rolled out its freight. He told me he was 
 going to send me a tiny sack of coffee, which propo- 
 sition, as it did not meet with the slightest encour- 
 agement, will of course never be thought of again. 
 I noticed, too, on the train, one of the Arkansas's 
 crew. The same who, though scarcely able to stand 
 on a severely wounded foot, made such a fuss about 
 riding in a carriage while "real ladies" had to walk. 
 Of course he did not recognize us, any more than we 
 would have known him if Dr. Brown had not pointed 
 him out. I hear all of them are at Port Hudson. 
 Anna told me, as we got here, that Dr. Addison (the 
 one I disliked because he was so scrupulously neat 
 while the others were dressed, or rather undressed, 
 for working) was here yesterday, and inquired for 
 the Miss Morgans, saying they were the most charm- 
 ing young ladies he had ever met. On what he 
 founded his opinion, or how he happened to inquire 
 for us in this part of the country, I cannot imagine. 
 The General brings news of the boys from Jack- 
 son. He there met an officer who left Stonewall 
 Jackson's command on the 2d inst., and says Gibbes 
 was unhurt, God be praised ! Another saw George a 
 week ago in Richmond, still lame, as the cap of his 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 knee had slipped in that fall last spring. Of Jimmy 
 we hear not a word, not even as to where he is. It 
 seems as though we are destined never to hear again. 
 
 September 20th, Saturday. 
 
 General Carter has just received a letter from 
 Lydia, which contains what to me is the most mel- 
 ancholy intelligence — the news of the death of 
 Eugene Fowler, 1 who was killed on the 226. of 
 August, in some battle or skirmish in Virginia. 
 Poor Eugene! . . . Does it not seem that this war 
 will sweep off all who are nearest and dearest, as well 
 as most worthy of life, leaving only those you least 
 care for, unharmed? 
 
 September 21st. 
 
 After supper last night, by way of variety, Anna, 
 Miriam, and I came up to our room, and after un- 
 dressing, commenced popping corn and making 
 candy in the fireplace. We had scarcely commenced 
 when three officers were announced, who found 
 their way to the house to get some supper, they 
 having very little chance of reaching Clinton before 
 morning, as the cars had run off the track. Of 
 course, we could not appear; and they brought bad 
 luck with them, for our corn would not pop, and our 
 candy burned, while to add to our distress the odor 
 of broiled chicken and hot biscuit was wafted up- 
 stairs, after a while, in the most provoking way. In 
 vain we sent the most pathetic appeals by each serv- 
 
 1 A cousin. 
 231 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ant, for a biscuit apiece, after our hard work. Mrs. 
 Carter was obdurate until, tired out with our mes- 
 sages, she at last sent us an empty jelly-cup, a shred 
 of chip beef, two polished drumsticks, and half a 
 biscuit divided in three. With that bountiful repast 
 we were forced to be content and go to bed. 
 
 At sunrise this morning, Mrs. [ Carter left to go 
 down to her father in Iberville, to see her step- 
 mother who is expected to die. Scarcely had she 
 gone when six more officers and soldiers came in 
 from the still stationary cars to get their breakfast. 
 We heard that Mr. Marsden, too, was down there, 
 so the General sent him a nice breakfast, and I sent 
 my love with it; but he had already breakfasted at 
 Mr. Elder's. As soon as they left, we prepared for 
 church, and just as we were ready, Captain Brown 
 and Mr. Addison were announced. The Doctor 
 greeted us with an elegant bow, but they did not 
 remain long, as we were about going out. 
 
 Many officers were in church, and as I passed out, 
 Colonel Breaux joined me, and escorted Miriam and 
 me to the carriage, where we stood talking some 
 time under the trees before getting in. He gave us a 
 most pressing invitation to name a day to visit the 
 camp that he might "have the pleasure of showing 
 us the fortifications," and we said we would beg the 
 General's permission to do so. Charming Colonel 
 Breaux! Like all nice men, he is married, of course. 
 He and another officer drove just behind our car- 
 
 232 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 riage in coming home, until we came to the fork of 
 the road. Then, leaning from their buggy, both 
 gentlemen bowed profoundly, which we as cordially 
 returned. Two more behind followed their example, 
 and to our great surprise, ten, who were seated in a 
 small wagon drawn by two diminutive mules, bowed 
 also, and, not content with that, rose to their feet as 
 the distance between the two roads increased, and 
 raised their caps, though in the most respectful 
 silence. Rather queer; and I would have said im- 
 pertinent had they been any others than Confeder- 
 ates fighting for us, who, of course, are privileged 
 people. 
 
 September 24th. 
 
 Yesterday the General saluted us with "Young 
 ladies, if you will ride in a Confederate carriage, you 
 may go to dress parade this evening." Now, in 
 present phraseology, " Confederate " means anything 
 that is rough, unfinished, unfashionable, or poor. 
 You hear of Confederate dresses, which means last 
 year's. Confederate bridle means a rope halter. 
 Confederate silver, a tin cup or spoon. Confederate 
 flour is corn meal, etc. In this case the Confederate 
 carriage is a Jersey wagon with four seats, a top of 
 hickory slats covered with leather, and the whole 
 drawn by mules. We accepted gladly, partly for 
 the ride and sight, partly to show we were not 
 ashamed of a very comfortable conveyance; so with 
 Mrs. Badger as chaperon, we went off in grand 
 style. I must say I felt rather abashed and wished 
 
 233 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 myself at home as we drove into town, and had the 
 gaze of a whole regiment riveted on us. But soon 
 the men fell in line, and I did not feel so painfully 
 conspicuous. I was amused at a contrast near by, 
 too. There was but one carriage present, besides 
 ours, though there were half a dozen ladies on horse- 
 back. This carriage was a very fine one, and in it sat 
 three of the ugliest, dowdiest, worst dressed females 
 I ever saw. We three girls sat in our rough carriage 
 as comfortable as could be, dressed — well, we 
 could not have been dressed better — and looking 
 our very best. Sans mentir, I think the Confeder- 
 ates were much the most respectable. 
 
 And what a sad sight the Fourth Louisiana was, 
 that was then parading! Men that had fought at 
 Shiloh and Baton Rouge were barefooted. Rags 
 was their only uniform, for very few possessed a 
 complete suit, and those few wore all varieties of 
 colors and cuts. Hats could be seen of every style 
 and shape, from the first ever invented down to the 
 last one purchased evidently some time since. Yet 
 he who had no shoes looked as happy as he who had, 
 and he who had a cap had something to toss up, 
 that's all. 
 
 Four or five that we knew gathered around our 
 vehicle and talked to us. Mr. Heuston told me he 
 heard I had been thrown, severely injured, had a 
 narrow escape, etc. Was not thrown! Saddle 
 turned. A few steps off we recognized Mr. Scales. 
 He would stare very hard at us, and if we turned 
 
 234 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 towards him, would look quickly the other way as 
 though afraid to meet our gaze. Presently he gave us 
 an opportunity, and we bowed. He came forward 
 eagerly, blushing deeply, and looking very much 
 pleased, and shook hands with us, and remained 
 some time talking. He said he had not heard of our 
 arrival, but would call as soon as possible. Mr. 
 Talbot had joined Breckinridge. 
 
 Having seen the last of that parade, he invited us 
 to see that of his sailors, which was next; but it was 
 too far; so we turned off to see Colonel Breaux's, a 
 mile away. His, the Thirtieth Louisiana, is a beau- 
 tiful encampment on a large open common. Parade 
 was almost over as we reached there, and soon the 
 Colonel came to meet us. I did not look at the drill. 
 I was watching the hundreds of tents — it looked 
 like a great many — and was wondering how men 
 could live in such places, and was trying to fancy 
 what George's or Gibbes's looked like. It was 
 pleasant to watch the barefoot soldiers race around 
 like boys let loose from school, tossing caps and 
 chips at two old gray geese that flew in circles 
 around the encampment, just as though they had 
 never had more earnest work. One gray-headed 
 man stood in the door of his tent, while a black- 
 headed young one danced before him, to his own 
 whistle, with his arms akimbo. Altogether it was a 
 very pretty picture ; but poor men ! how can they be 
 happy in these tents? 
 
 235 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Sarah Morgan. X. 
 
 September 26th, Friday. 
 
 My mark finds me at Linwood, though I had not 
 the slightest idea that it would. Wonder where 
 twenty pages beyond will find me? At home, I hope 
 and pray, though I am as happy here as I could 
 possibly be in any place on earth. 
 
 Stirring news from our armies comes pouring in. 
 Sunday, Colonel Breaux told me of Wool's defeat, 
 and the great number of prisoners, cannon, and the 
 large supplies of stores and ammunition that we had 
 captured. Then Tuesday we heard of three great 
 battles in Maryland, the third one still continuing; 
 but no particulars of any of them. Yesterday came 
 tidings of our having recrossed the Potomac, and 
 to-day we hear that McClellan's army has been cut 
 to pieces; but whether it is the same old fight or a 
 new one, I cannot as yet learn ; for reliable informa- 
 tion is not easily obtained in America at this period. 
 
 Did I ever record how little truth there was in any 
 of that last Clinton news? It speaks for itself, 
 though. Not a boat lay at Baton Rouge; Camp 
 Moore was not even threatened; Ponchatoula Sta- 
 tion was burned, but the one battery was retaken by 
 our men the same night. 
 
 But still these false reports cannot equal the 
 Yankees'. Take, for instance, the report of the 
 Captain of the Essex. I give General Carter as my 
 authority. The Captain reports having been fired 
 on by a battery of thirty-six large guns, at Port 
 
 236 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Hudson, some weeks ago, when he opened fire and 
 silenced them, one after the other, from the first to 
 the last. Not a shot from the "rebel" batteries 
 reached them, and not a casualty on their side 
 occurred. But the loss of the Confederates must 
 have been awful. He came within — I forget how 
 many — yards from the shore, and there was not a 
 live man to be seen. He did not mention if there 
 were any dead ones ! Now for the other side. There 
 were but four guns mounted there at the time. Shot 
 and shell from those four certainly reached some- 
 thing, for one was seen to enter a porthole, from 
 whence issued frightful shrieks soon after, and it is 
 well known that the Essex is so badly injured by 
 "something" as to be in a sinking condition, and 
 only kept afloat by a gunboat lashed on either side. 
 If she is uninjured, why did she not return and burn 
 Natchez as she announced? In leaving Port Hudson, 
 where "not a live man was to be seen" (nor a dead 
 one to be found), she stopped at Mr. Babin's, just 
 below Dr. Nolan's, where she remained the rest of 
 the day. After she left, being curious to discover the 
 reason of her short stay, Mr. Babin walked to the 
 place where she had been, and discovered sixteen 
 fresh graves on the bank. If they buried them as 
 they did at Baton Rouge and Vicksburg, four in a 
 grave, how many would they be? But granting 
 there were but sixteen, would that prove the verac- 
 ity of the Captain? Poor man! Perhaps he is 
 related to Pope, and cannot help himself. 
 
 237 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 September 27th. 
 
 I often wonder how lies first came into the world, 
 and whether those who originate them do not 
 believe them as firmly as any one else would believe 
 truth. Lying seems to be the common creed of chil- 
 dren and servants. 
 
 Anna told me of having heard Lennice telling the 
 other servants that she knew there were spirits, 
 because I often talked to them. Every morning and 
 evening I walked to the graveyard with a basket of 
 flowers, and would sit by father's and Harry's 
 graves and call their spirits to me; and they would 
 all fly to me, and talk and sing with me for hours 
 until I would tell them good-bye and go home, 
 when they would go away too. I suppose the igno- 
 rant girl, having foundation enough from my fre- 
 quent visits there, which were most often alone, 
 made up the rest to account for my never seeming 
 to like company out there. The fervent "Good 
 Lord" with which the tale was received by the 
 other servants, and the full credence they gave it, 
 might have proved unpleasant if further circulated ; 
 and I believe some members of the family found it 
 necessary to put an end to it at once. 
 
 And speaking of the graveyard recalls something 
 I heard for the first time last night. Miriam was 
 telling me that Tiche had asked if we knew that Mr. 
 Sparks had visited Harry's grave? That he had got 
 a basket of flowers from the Davidsons, and had 
 made their driver carry it for him. And the man had 
 
 238 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 told her that, after filling the vases with roses, and 
 spreading them over the grave, he had thrown him- 
 self on it with a shriek of despair, calling on Harry 
 to forgive him; that it was only because forced by 
 his father that he had killed him ; and calling on God 
 to prove that he would give his life gladly to recall 
 Harry's. The man thought him a raving maniac and 
 fled in terror. Miriam asked Fanny if it was true, 
 and she said yes; she had gathered the flowers for 
 him herself. 
 
 I saw them there, but little knew whose hand had 
 brought them. I perceived at once that they were 
 not mine, and touched even to tears by so silent an 
 offering from an unknown person, I said, " It is some 
 woman's work; God bless the hand that laid them 
 there." I cannot say how much that little tribute 
 affected me. And, Mr. Sparks, I do not retract the 
 blessing now. No! " God have mercy on him !" has 
 been my prayer ever since I knew what an awful loss 
 you had caused us. God knows that I never even 
 desired this revenge — remorse standing over his 
 grave. It has ever been, " God pity and forgive ! " — 
 never yet for an instant, "God pursue and avenge!" 
 
 September 28th. 
 We were roused up at four o'clock last night by 
 the arrival of Lydia and Eugene Carter, 1 the first 
 from Virginia and the second from Tennessee; and, 
 
 1 Lydia, daughter of General Carter and wife of Captain Thomas 
 Gibbes Morgan; Eugene, eldest son of General Carter, and husband 
 of Helen mentioned in the Diary. 
 
 239 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 of course, there was very little sleep for any of us, so 
 anxious were we to hear the news they brought. 
 First I learned that Gibbes was safe up to the 1 7th ; 
 that George, in spite of the advice of his surgeon, 
 had rejoined Stonewall Jackson in Maryland; and 
 Jimmy was midshipman on the ironclad Palmetto 
 State at Charleston. How thankful I was to hear 
 that much, I need not say. Lydia said they all three 
 looked remarkably well; Jimmy handsomer than 
 ever. After that, news of all kinds came indiscrimi- 
 nately. The boys were very anxious about us, but 
 had no idea of our misfortunes or whereabouts. 
 They believed us still in Baton Rouge, and feared 
 we had been there during the battle.' Lydia only 
 heard of our house having been plundered when she 
 reached Alabama, so of course they are still ignorant 
 of it. ! They were all very homesick, but said that we 
 were their only trouble. 
 
 A few of the C s' stories had reached them 
 
 through brother officers ; and George swore to make 
 himself understood by those ladies if he ever saw 
 them again. A gentleman from Cooper's Wells told 
 Lydia that they never tired of repeating their stories 
 to every new arrival; and no man was suffered to 
 depart without having heard a few. If a gentleman 
 friend of ours or the boys inquired if they knew the 
 Miss Morgans of Baton Rouge, "Oh, yes! "would be 
 the answer, "intimately! But you know they have 
 turned Yankee. Received Federal officers every day, 
 and placed all their property under Yankee protec- 
 
 240 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tion. I" (or "my sister," as it happened who was 
 
 retailing the lie, meaning Mrs. S ) "slept in their 
 
 house when it was surrounded by a Yankee guard. 
 Oh, they are perfectly in favor of the Yankees," and 
 so on. Think of a common, low soldier who stopped 
 for buttermilk somewhere where Anna was, intro- 
 ducing the subject. "It is all false!" Anna inter- 
 rupted. The man answered, "Oh, Miss! you don't 
 suppose we believe it? We would not believe such 
 stories of any young ladies, much less these; for if 
 they are true, their conduct must have been per- 
 fectly disgraceful. But though we know these 
 stories to be lies, it does not prevent their being 
 discussed in camp." . . . 
 
 Lydia saw Mr. McG , too, at Lynchburg, who 
 
 sent me his "regards." Poor fellow! He says he still 
 has "dreams " ! He told her a few, but she says they 
 were chiefly about meeting me at a ball, when I 
 always treated him with the most freezing coldness. 
 The same old nightmare. How often he has told 
 me of that same dream, that tormented him eight- 
 een months ago. He says he often thinks of me now 
 — and he still "dreams " of me ! " Dreams are base- 
 less fabrics whose timbers are mere moonbeams." 
 Apply your own proverb! . . . 
 
 A clatter of hoofs down the road ! And bent over 
 the window-sill which is my desk, my fingers are not 
 presentable with the splattering of this vile pen in 
 consequence of my position. Two hours yet before 
 sundown, so of course I am not dressed. They come 
 
 241 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 nearer still. Now I see them! Dr. Addison and Mr. 
 
 M ! I shall not hurry my toilet for them. It will 
 
 take some time to comb my hair, too. Wish I could 
 remain up here! 
 
 Tuesday, September 30th. 
 
 It required very little persuasion to induce those 
 gentlemen to stay to supper, the other evening, and 
 it was quite late before they took their leave. Dr. 
 Addison I was very much pleased with, and so were 
 
 all the rest. Mr. M , none of us fell desperately 
 
 in love with. He is too nonchalant and indifferent, 
 besides having a most peculiar pronunciation which 
 grated harshly on my ears, and that no orthography 
 could fully express. "Garb," for instance, was dis- 
 torted into "gairb," "yard" into "yaird," " Arkan- 
 sas, " and all such words that I can only imitate by a 
 violent dislocation of my lower jaw that puts Anna 
 into convulsions of laughter — only she would laugh 
 the same if it was not funny. This Kentuckian pro- 
 nunciation grates "hairshly" on my Southern ears. 
 Miriam addressed herself exclusively to the Doctor, 
 so I was obliged to confine my attention entirely to 
 
 neglected Mr. M , in which pious duty I was 
 
 ably and charitably seconded by the General. 
 Speaking of the bravery and daring displayed by the 
 Southern soldiers during this war, Mr. M men- 
 tioned the dangerous spot he had seen us in the first 
 day we went down to the "Airkansas" and said 
 that, lying directly across the point from the Essex, 
 they expected every instant to see one of her shells 
 
 242 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 explode among us, and were very uneasy about our 
 position, as we did not seem to know the danger. I 
 asked him if he had observed anything peculiar 
 among the dozen planters and overseers standing a 
 short distance from us, when the Captain sent us 
 word that our position was a very dangerous one, as 
 they expected the Essex to open fire every instant, 
 and we had best stand below the levee, higher up, 
 where we would be safe from shells. " I noticed that 
 before any of you understood your position, every 
 man had disappeared as though by magic." Now 
 I had noticed that myself. When I turned, under 
 shelter of the levee, our gallant planters were gallop- 
 ing off in the distance. While Ginnie and I looked 
 and laughed, we suddenly found ourselves the sole 
 objects on the horizon ; the other girls were in the road 
 below, going carelessly toward the carriage; so we 
 followed, having lost sight of the brave representa- 
 tives of Southern chivalry, being the last to leave 
 the supposed field of danger. To my former remark, 
 let me add that there is only one set who take better 
 care for their safety than married women ; and that 
 set is composed exclusively of the "Home Guard." 
 Timid girls, either through ignorance or fun, com- 
 pose the majority of the brave "men" that the vol- 
 unteer service has not absorbed. 
 
 October 1st, Wednesday. 
 Just after sunset yesterday, Anna and I were 
 walking down the road towards the sugar-house, she 
 
 243 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 reading occasionally from Abbott's "Napoleon," 
 and then pausing for me to explain the very difficult 
 passages she could not understand, when we sud- 
 denly became aware of the approach of a horse, and 
 raising our bowed heads, beheld Colonel Breaux and 
 another before us, to our infinite surprise and aston- 
 ishment. The Colonel sprang from his horse and 
 advanced on foot ; his companion slowly followed his 
 example, and was introduced as Captain Morrison. 
 We adjourned our historical fit for some future 
 period, and walked home with the gentlemen. 
 Miriam did not get back from her excursion to the 
 cane-patch until it was quite late ; when after sitting 
 down a few moments, she ran upstairs to change her 
 dress. She had just put it on an hour before, but 
 nothing would do but she must dress up fine ; so she 
 put on her handsomest organdie. In vain I pointed 
 to my simple pink muslin with a white body that I 
 had worn all day, and begged she would not make 
 the contrast between us more striking than ever, as 
 I felt I could not change it without exciting remark. 
 She was obdurate ; dressed herself in gorgeous array, 
 and, as usual, I looked like her lady's maid. 
 
 Colonel Breaux paid my hair the most extrava- 
 gant compliments. He said he could not say his 
 prayers for looking at it in church, Sunday before 
 last. Perhaps that is the reason St. Paul said a 
 woman should not worship in church with her head 
 uncovered ! But as the Yankees stole my bonnet, I 
 am reduced to wearing my black straw walking-hat 
 
 244 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with its curled brim, trimmed in black ribbon with 
 golden sheaves of wheat. Two years ago this fall, 
 father threw me a banknote at table, and I pur- 
 chased this with it. Now it is my only headgear, 
 except a sunbonnet. Before leaving, which was not 
 until quite late, this evening was named for our 
 ride to the fortifications, to our infinite delight, as 
 we have dreamed and talked of nothing else for a 
 week. . . . 
 
 A dispatch just received from Gibbes, from 
 Mobile, on his way home. I am so happy ! But what 
 can bring him? I fear 
 
 Lydia has gone to Clinton to meet him at Lilly's. 
 
 October 2d, Thursday. 
 
 With what extraordinary care we prepared for 
 our ride yesterday! One would have thought that 
 some great event was about to take place. But in 
 spite of our long toilet, we stood ready equipped 
 almost an hour before Colonel Breaux arrived. I 
 was standing in a novel place — upon the bannisters 
 looking over the fields to see if he was coming — 
 and, not seeing him, made some impatient exclama- 
 tion, when lo! he appeared before me, having only 
 been concealed by the wood-pile, and O my pro- 
 phetic soul ! Captain Morrison was by his side ! 
 
 There was quite a cavalcade of us : Mr. Carter and 
 his wife, Mrs. Badger and Mrs. Worley, in two 
 buggies; the three boys, who, of course, followed on 
 horseback, and the two gentlemen, Miriam, Anna, 
 
 245 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and I, riding also. It was really a very pretty sight, 
 when Captain Morrison and I, who took the lead 
 going, would reach the top of one of the steep hills 
 and look down on the procession in the hollow below. 
 Fortunately it was a very cloudy evening ; for, start- 
 ing at four, it would have been very unpleasant to 
 ride that distance with the sun in our faces. 
 
 As we reached the town we heard the loud report 
 of two cannon which caused the elder ladies to halt 
 and suggest the propriety of a return. But if it was 
 a gunboat, that was the very thing I was anxious to 
 see; so we hurried on to the batteries. It proved to 
 be only practicing, however. At the first one we 
 stopped at, the crew of the Arkansas were drilling. 
 After stopping a while there, we followed the river 
 to see the batteries below. It was delightful to ride 
 on the edge of a high bluff with the muddy Missis- 
 sippi below, until you fancied what would be the 
 probable sensation if the horse should plunge down 
 into the waters; then it ceased to be so pleasant. 
 The great, strong animal I rode could have carried 
 me over without a protest on my part ; for the ridicu- 
 lous bit in his mouth was by no means suited to his 
 strength ; and it would require a more powerful arm 
 than mine to supply the deficiency. Miriam had 
 generously sacrificed her own comfort to give him to 
 me; and rode fiery Joe instead of her favorite. But 
 it was by no means a comfort to me. Then Anna 
 was not reconciled to her pony while I was on such a 
 fine horse, until I proposed an exchange, and gladly 
 
 246 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 dismounted near an old mill two miles and a half 
 below Port Hudson, as we returned home. 
 
 In leaving the town, we lost sight of the buggies, 
 as there was no carriage road that might follow the 
 bluff; and though there was one just back, we never 
 saw our buggies again. Once, following a crescent, 
 far below us lay the water battery concealed by the 
 trees that grew by the water's edge, looking, from 
 where we stood, like quite a formidable precipice. 
 Then still beyond, after leaving the river, we passed 
 through a camp where the soldiers divided their 
 attention equally between eating their supper and 
 staring at us in the most profound silence. Then, 
 through an old gate, down a steep hill, past a long 
 line of rifle-pits, a winding road, and another camp 
 where more men stared and cooked their supper, we 
 came to the last battery but one, which lay so far 
 below that it was too late to visit it. We returned 
 highly delighted with what we had seen and our 
 pleasant ride. It was late when we got back, as 
 altogether our ride had been some fifteen miles in 
 length. As soon as we could exchange our habits 
 for our evening dresses, we rejoined our guests at 
 the supper-table, where none of us wanted for an 
 appetite except poor Captain Morrison, who could 
 not be tempted by the dishes we so much relished. 
 After supper, Colonel Breaux and I got into a dis- 
 cussion, rather, he talked, while I listened with eyes 
 and ears, with all my soul. . . . What would I not 
 give for such knowledge ! He knows everything, and 
 
 247 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 can express it all in the clearest, purest language, 
 though he says he could not speak a word of Eng- 
 lish at fourteen ! 
 
 The discussion commenced by some remark I 
 made about physiognomy ; he took it up, and passed 
 on to phrenology — in which he is no great believer. 
 From there he touched on the mind, and I listened, 
 entranced, to him. Presently he asserted that I 
 possessed reasoning faculties, which I fear me I very 
 rudely denied. You see, every moment the painful 
 conviction of my ignorance grew more painful still, 
 until it was most humiliating; and I repelled it rather 
 as a mockery. He described for my benefit the proc- 
 ess of reasoning, the art of thinking. I listened more 
 attentively still, resolving to profit by his words. . . . 
 Then he turned the conversation on quite another 
 theme. Health was the subject. He delicately 
 alluded to my fragile appearance, and spoke of the 
 necessity of a strong constitution to sustain a vigor- 
 ous mind. If the mind prevailed over the weak body, 
 in its turn it became affected by decay, and would 
 eventually lose its powers. It was applicable to all 
 cases; he did not mean that I was sickly, but that 
 my appearance bespoke one who had not been used 
 to the exercise that was most necessary for me. 
 Horseback rides, walks, fresh air were necessary to 
 preserve health. No man had greater disgust for a 
 freckled face than he; but a fair face could be pre- 
 served by the most ordinary precautions and even 
 improved by such exercise. He illustrated my case 
 
 248 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 by showing the difference between the flower growing 
 in the sunshine and that growing in a cellar. Fa- 
 ther's own illustration and very words, when he so 
 often tried to impress on me the necessity of gaining 
 a more robust frame than nature had bestowed! 
 And a letter he had made Hal write me, showing 
 the danger of such neglect, rose before me. I forgot 
 Colonel Breaux; I remembered only the ardent 
 desire of those two, who seemed to speak to me 
 through his lips. It produced its effect. I felt the 
 guilt I had incurred by not making greater efforts to 
 gain a more robust frame ; and putting on my sun- 
 bonnet as I arose from the breakfast-table this 
 morning, I took my seat here on the wide balcony 
 where I have remained seated on the floor ever 
 since, with a chair for a desk, trying to drink an 
 extra amount of fresh air. 
 
 I was sorry when Colonel Breaux arose to take his 
 leave. As he took my hand, I said earnestly, 
 "Thank you for giving me something to think 
 about." He looked gratified, made some pleasant 
 remark, and after talking a while longer, said good- 
 night again and rode off. While undressing, Miriam 
 and I spoke of nothing else. And when I lay down, 
 and looked in my own heart and saw my shocking 
 ignorance and pitiful inferiority so painfully evident 
 even to my own eyes, I actually cried. Why was I 
 denied the education that would enable me to be the 
 equal of such a man as Colonel Breaux and the 
 others? He says the woman's mind is the same as 
 
 249 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the man's, originally; it is only education that 
 creates the difference. Why was I denied that edu- 
 cation? Who is to blame? Have I exerted fully the 
 natural desire To Know that is implanted in all 
 hearts? Have I done myself injustice in my self- 
 taught ignorance, or has injustice been done to me? 
 Where is the fault, I cried. Have I labored to im- 
 prove the few opportunities thrown in my path, to 
 the best of my ability? " Answer for yourself . With 
 the exception of ten short months at school, where 
 you learned nothing except arithmetic, you have 
 been your own teacher, your own scholar, all your 
 life, after you were taught by mother the elements 
 of reading and writing. Give an account of your 
 charge. What do you know?" Nothing! except that 
 I am a fool ! and I buried my face in the sheet ; I did 
 not like even the darkness to see me in my humilia- 
 tion. 
 
 October 4th, Saturday. 
 
 While Anna and Miriam went out riding last 
 evening, just as I put down my pen, I went out for a 
 solitary walk down the road that Gibbes would have 
 to pass; but saw nothing of the carriage. When I got 
 back, they told me he was wounded. My fears were 
 well founded, then. With what anxiety we waited 
 for his coming it would be impossible to describe. 
 Every wagon rattling through the fields made us 
 stop and listen; every canestalk waving in the 
 moonlight brought us to our feet. 
 
 At last, after supper, far off in the clear light we 
 250 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 saw the carriage. I could not sit still. I walked 
 down the steps and stood under the tree in front, 
 followed by Anna. I did not like her to stand nearer 
 the spot where it would stop than I, even. All the 
 rest remained on the balcony. We did not know 
 how serious the wound might be; we must be care- 
 ful. Eugene Carter advised caution for more rea- 
 sons than one. "Look out!" he cried; "suppose it 
 should be Colonel Breaux?" "Then I am afraid the 
 Colonel will get a kiss," I answered nervously, shuf- 
 fling from one foot to the other. "But suppose it is 
 
 Mr. M ?" he persisted. "Oh, thank you for the 
 
 caution! I will look carefully before I greet him!" I 
 returned, moving to the other side, for nearer around 
 the circle moved the carriage. I heard his voice. 
 "O Gibbes, where is it?" "Left shoulder; mere 
 scratch," he answered. The carriage stopped, 
 "Gibbes! Gibbes!" I cried. "My darling!" and he 
 had his great strong arm around me; the left was 
 hanging in a sling. Slowly the others moved down the 
 steps towards him. What a meeting! My heart was 
 in my throat, I was so happy. Every one caught the 
 well hand and kissed him again and again, and every 
 one shrunk from that left side. I had almost for- 
 gotten my "gear Lygia" in my excitement. We fol- 
 lowed him on the balcony and put him in a chair 
 near the steps. I pulled off his hat and coat, and 
 knelt in front of him with my arm across his lap, to 
 get near enough. Miriam stood on the steps with his 
 arm around her shoulder, and Lydia near. The others 
 
 251 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 stood around ; altogether, it was a happy group that 
 performed in the tableau of "The Soldier's Return." 
 Presently the negroes gathered too. "How is you, 
 Mass' Gibbes?" in all imaginable keys and accents 
 was heard, while the Captain shook hands with each 
 and inquired into their own state of health. 
 
 But even wounded soldiers can eat ; so supper was 
 again prepared. I am afraid it gave me too much 
 pleasure to cut up his food. It was very agreeable to 
 butter his cornbread, carve his mutton, and spread 
 his preserves; but I doubt whether it could be so 
 pleasant to a strong man, accustomed to do such 
 small services for himself. We listened to him talk, 
 but though it was evident from his slow, deliberate 
 speech, so different from his ordinary habit, that he 
 was suffering, yet I felt impatient when he was in- 
 terrupted by any commonplace observation by one 
 of us. I wanted to learn something of his exploits. 
 Much knowledge I obtained! He was wounded at 
 Sharpsburg on the 17th September, at nine in the 
 morning. That is all the information I got concern- 
 ing himself. One would imagine that the seventeen 
 months that have elapsed since we last met had been 
 passed in a prolonged picnic. Concerning others, he 
 was quite communicative. Father Hubert told him 
 he had seen George in the battle, and he had come 
 out safe. Gibbes did not even know that he was in 
 it, until then. Our army, having accomplished its 
 object, recrossed the Potomac, after what was de- 
 cidedly a drawn battle. Both sides suffered severely. 
 
 252 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Hardly an officer on either side escaped unhurt. Mr. 
 McGimsey is wounded, and] Major Herron reported 
 killed. I expect the list will contain the names of 
 many friends when it comes. 
 
 I have just come from seeing Gibbes's wound 
 dressed. If that is a scratch, Heaven defend me 
 from wounds! A minie ball struck his left shoulder 
 strap, which caused it to glance, thereby saving the 
 bone. Just above, in the fleshy part, it tore the flesh 
 off in a strip three inches and a half by two. Such a 
 great raw, green, pulpy wound, bound around by a 
 heavy red ridge of flesh ! Mrs. Badger, who dressed 
 it, turned sick; Miriam turned away groaning; serv- 
 ants exclaimed with horror; it was the first experi- 
 ence of any, except Mrs. Badger, in wounds. I 
 wanted to try my nerves ; so I held the towel around 
 his body and kept the flies off while it was being 
 washed. He talked all the time, ridiculing the 
 groans of sympathy over a "scratch," and oh, how 
 I loved him for his fortitude! It is so offensive that 
 the water trickling on my dress has obliged me to 
 change it. 
 
 October 6th. 
 
 Last night, I actually drew from Gibbes the out- 
 lines of Jackson's campaign. He told me of some 
 heroic deeds of his fellow soldiers; but of his own, 
 not a word. I have seen his name too often in the 
 papers, to believe that he has no deeds of his own 
 to relate, if he only would. 
 
 253 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 October 9th, Thursday. 
 
 It is astonishing what a quantity of fresh air has 
 been consumed by me since I formed that wise resolu- 
 tion. The supply must be largely increased, to keep 
 up with the demand ; perhaps that is the cause of all 
 these clouds and showers ; I must be making a severe 
 drain on the economy of heaven. From breakfast to 
 dinner I remain on the balcony, and read aloud 
 several chapters of the "M6moires" of Dumas, by 
 way of practice. A dictionary lies by me, and I suffer 
 no word to pass without a perfect definition. Then 
 comes my French grammar, which I study while 
 knitting or sewing, which takes very nearly until 
 dinner-time. After that, I do as I please, either 
 reading or talking, until sunset when we can ride or 
 walk; the walk being always sweetened with sugar- 
 cane. The evening we always spend on the balcony. 
 Is that grand air enough? mon teintt je serai joli- 
 ment brune I 
 
 We three girls occupy the same room, since 
 Gibbes's arrival, and have ever so much fun and not 
 half enough sleep. I believe the other two complain 
 of me as the cause; but I plead not guilty. I never 
 was known to laugh aloud, no matter how intense 
 might have been my mirth; "it won't come," as 
 Gibbes murmured last night while reading aloud 
 Artemus Ward's last letter, when we discovered it 
 was suppressed laughter, rather than suppressed 
 pain, that caused him to writhe so. On the other 
 hand, Anna and Miriam laugh as loud and lustily as 
 
 254 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 daughters of the Titans — if the respectable gentle- 
 men had daughters. I confess to doing more than 
 half the talking, but as to the laugh that follows, not 
 a bit. Last night I thought they would go wild, and 
 I too laughed myself into silent convulsions, when I 
 recited an early effusion of my poetic muse for their 
 edification. Miriam made the bedstead prance, 
 fairly, while Anna's laugh sounded like a bull of 
 Bashan with his head in a bolster case. 
 
 Saturday, October nth. 
 Miriam went off to Clinton before daylight yester- 
 day, with Mr. Carter and Mrs. Worley. She would 
 not let me go for fear mother should keep us. At 
 midnight they got back last night, tired, sleepy, and 
 half -frozen, for our first touch of cool weather came 
 in a strong north wind in the evening which grew 
 stronger and stronger through the night, and they 
 had worn only muslin dresses. I shall never cease 
 to regret that I did not go too. Miriam says mother 
 is looking very sad. Sad, and I am trying to forget 
 all our troubles, and am so happy here! O mother, 
 how selfish it was to leave you ! I ask myself whether 
 it were best to stay there where we would only be 
 miserable without adding anything to your comfort 
 or pleasure, or to be here, careless and happy while 
 you are in that horrid hole so sad and lonesome. 
 According to my theory, Miriam would remind me 
 that I say it is better to have three miserable persons 
 than two happy ones whose happiness occasions the 
 
 255 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 misery of the third. That is my doctrine only in 
 peculiar cases; it cannot be applied to this one. 
 I say that if, for example, Miriam and I should love 
 the same person, while that person loved only me, 
 rather than make her unhappy by seeing me marry 
 him, I would prefer making both him and myself 
 miserable, by remaining single. She says "Fudge!" 
 which means, I suppose, nonsense. But our happi- 
 ness here does not occasion mother's unhappiness. 
 She would rather see us enjoying ourselves here than 
 moping there. One proof is, that she did not suggest 
 our return. She longs to get home, but cannot leave 
 poor Lilly alone, for Charlie is in Granada. Oh, how 
 willingly I would return to the old wreck of our home ! 
 All its desolation could not be half so unendurable 
 as Clinton. But Lilly cannot be left. Poor Lilly! 
 When I look at her sad young face, my heart bleeds 
 for her. With five helpless little children to care 
 for, is she not to be pitied? I think that such a 
 charge, in such dreadful days, would kill me. How 
 patiently she bears it! 
 
 Thursday, October 16th. 
 
 It seems an age since I have opened this book. 
 How the time has passed since, I have but a vague 
 idea, beyond that it has passed very pleasantly. . . . 
 Once since, I have been with Mrs. Badger to a Mr. 
 Powell, who has started quite an extensive shoe- 
 making establishment, in the vain attempt to get 
 something to cover my naked feet. I am so much 
 
 256 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 in need that I have been obliged to borrow Lydia's 
 shoes every time I have been out since she returned. 
 This was my second visit there, and I have no 
 greater satisfaction than I had at first. He got my 
 measure, I got his promise, and that is the end of it, 
 thus far. His son, a young man of about twenty-four, 
 had the cap of his knee shot off at Baton Rouge. 
 Ever since he has been lying on his couch, unable 
 to stand; and the probability is that he will never 
 stand again. Instead of going out to the manu- 
 factory, Mrs. Badger has each time stopped at the 
 house to see his mother (who, by the way, kissed 
 me and called me "Sissie," to my great amusement) 
 and there I have seen this poor young man. He 
 seems so patient and resigned that it is really edi- 
 fying to be with him. He is very communicative, 
 too, and seems to enjoy company, no matter if he 
 does say "her'n" and "his'n." Wonder why he 
 does n't say " shisen" too? The girls are highly 
 amused at the description I give of my new acquaint- 
 an^?, but still more so at Mrs. Badger's account of 
 tb t j. friendship of this poor young cripple, and his 
 e^ oyment of my visits. Of course it is only her own 
 version, as she is very fond of jokes of all kinds. 
 
 Night before last Lydia got playing the piano for 
 me in the darkened parlor, and the old tunes from 
 her dear little fingers sent me off in a sea of dreams. 
 She too caught the vision, and launched off in a 
 well-remembered quadrille. The same scene flashed 
 on us, and at each note, almost, we would recall a 
 
 257 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 little circumstance, charming to us, but unintelli- 
 gible to Anna, who occupied the other side. To- 
 gether we talked over the dramatis personce. Mrs. 
 Morgan, Jr., in dark blue silk with black flounces, 
 a crimson chenille net on her black hair, sits at the 
 piano in her own parlor. On the Brussels carpet 
 stands, among others, Her Majesty, Queen Miriam, 
 in a lilac silk, with bare neck and arms save for the 
 protection afforded by a bertha of applique lace 
 trimmed with pink ribbon, with hair d, la madonna, 
 and fastened low on her neck. Is she not handsome 
 as she stands fronting the folding doors, her hand 
 in tall Mr. Trezevant's, just as she commences to 
 dance, with the tip of her black bottine just show- 
 ing? Vis-a-vis stands pretty Sophie, with her large, 
 graceful mouth smiling and showing her pretty 
 teeth to the best advantage. A low neck and short- 
 sleeved green and white poplin is her dress, while 
 her black hair, combed off from her forehead care- 
 lessly, is caught by a comb at the back and falls in 
 curls on her shoulders. A prettier picture could )t 
 be wished for, as she looks around with sparkl g 
 eyes, eager for the dance to begin. There stan * 
 calm Dena in snuff-colored silk, looking so immeas- 
 urably the superior of her partner, who, I fancy, 
 rather feels that she is the better man of the two, 
 from his nervous way of shifting from one foot to the 
 other, without saying a word to her. Nettie, in lilac 
 and white, stands by the mantel laughing undis- 
 guisedly at her partner, rather than with him, yet 
 
 «58 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 so good-humoredly that he cannot take offense, 
 but rather laughs with her. Lackadaisical Gertrude, 
 whose face is so perfect in the daytime, looks pale 
 and insipid by gaslight, and timidly walks through 
 the dance. Stout, good-natured Minna smiles and 
 laughs, never quite completing a sentence, partly 
 from embarrassment, partly because she hardly 
 knows how ; but still so sweet and amiable that one 
 cannot find fault with her for so trifling a misfor- 
 tune. At this point, Lydia suggests, "And Sarah, 
 do you forget her?" I laugh; how could I forget? 
 There she stands in a light blue silk checked in tiny 
 squares, with little flounces up to her knee. Her 
 dress fits well, and she wears very pretty sleeves and 
 collar of applique. Lydia asks if that is all, and how 
 she looks. The same old song, I answer. She is 
 looking at Miriam just now; you would hardly notice 
 her, but certainly her hair is well combed. That 
 is all you can say for her. Who is she dancing with? 
 A youth fond of "dreams"; futile ones, at that, I 
 laughingly reply. He must be relating one just now, 
 for there is a very perceptible curl on her upper lip, 
 and she is looking at him as though she thought 
 she was the tallest. Lydia dashes off into a lively 
 jig. "Ladies to the right!" I cried. She laughed 
 too, well knowing that that part of the dance was 
 invariably repeated a dozen times at least. She 
 looked slyly up: "I am thinking of how many hands 
 I saw squeezed," she said. I am afraid it did happen, 
 once or twice. 
 
 259 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Eighteen months ago ! What a change ! One who 
 was prominent on such occasions — Mr. Sparks — 
 they tell me is dead. May God have mercy on his 
 soul, in the name of Jesus Christ! I did not ask 
 even this revenge. 
 
 October 18th, Saturday. 
 
 Last night mother arrived from Clinton with 
 Gibbes and Lydia, who had gone there the day 
 before to get her to go to Baton Rouge. 
 
 Clinton, 
 October 19th, Sunday. 
 
 What an unexpected change! I am surprised 
 myself! Yesterday as the Baton Rouge party were 
 about leaving, Miriam thought Lilly would be lone- 
 some alone here with her sick baby, and decided 
 that we should leave by the cars, and stay with her 
 until mother returned. There was no time to lose; 
 so dressing in haste, we persuaded Anna to accom- 
 pany us, and in a few moments stood ready. We 
 walked down to the overseer's house to wait for the 
 cars, and passed the time most agreeably in eating 
 sugar-cane, having brought a little negro expressly 
 to cut it for us and carry our carpet-bag. Three 
 young ladies, who expected to be gone from Satur- 
 day until Wednesday, having but one carpet-bag 
 between them! Can it be credited? But, then, we 
 knew we had clothes here, and depended upon them 
 for supplies, when we now find they are in the trunk 
 and mother has the key. 
 
 260 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 We walked aboard alone, in the crowded train, 
 and found ourselves in the only car reserved for 
 ladies, which was already filled with a large party 
 returning from Port Hudson, consisting of the fast- 
 est set of girls that I have seen for some time. Anna 
 and I had to content ourselves with a seat on a small 
 box between the benches, while Miriam was estab- 
 lished on the only vacant one, with a sick soldier 
 lying at her feet. The fast girls talked as loud as 
 possible and laughed in a corresponding style in 
 spite of the sick man. They must have been on a 
 picnic, from the way they talked. One in a short 
 dress complained that she had not seen her sweet- 
 heart. A pert little miss of thirteen cried, "You can 
 bet your head I never went to any place where I did 
 not see one of my sweethearts." One of about 
 seventeen, a perfect beauty, declared she would 
 die of thirst. "So will I! and I don't want to die 
 before I get a husband!" exclaimed her vis-a-vis. 
 They evidently expected to produce an impression 
 on us. At every "brilliant" remark ("stupid" 
 understood), they looked at us to see what we 
 thought. All of them sat with bare heads in the 
 strong light, an unfailing proof of la basse classe on 
 steamers and cars. Every time my veil blew aside, 
 they made no difficulty about scanning my features 
 as though they thought it might be agreeable. I 
 must confess I was equally impolite in regard to 
 the Beauty; but then her loveliness was an excuse, 
 and my veil sheltered me, besides. While this young 
 
 261 
 
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 Psyche was fascinating me, with her perfect face and 
 innocent expression, one of her companions made a 
 remark — one that I dare say is made every day, 
 and that I never imagined could be turned into 
 harm. My Beauty uttered a prolonged "Oh!" of 
 horror, and burst out laughing, followed by all the 
 others. My disgust was unspeakable. Mock mod- 
 esty is always evident. A modest girl could not have 
 noticed the "catch"; the immodest, on the lookout 
 for such an opportunity, was the only one who could 
 have perceived it. Well! after all, no one can be 
 perfect ; this may be the single stain on my Beauty, 
 though I confess I would rather have any other fail- 
 ing than this, almost. 
 
 Putting this aside, I hardly know which I was 
 most amused by : the giddy, lively girls to my right, 
 or the two ladies to my left who were as cross and 
 ill-natured as two old cats and railed unmercifully 
 at the silly creatures behind them, and carried their 
 spite so far as to refuse to drink because the conduc- 
 tor (the husband of one of them) gave the young 
 ladies water before passing it to their two elders. 
 Did n't the poor man get it! She would n't taste 
 a drop of that nasty dirty drippings, that she 
 would n't! Might have had the decency to attend 
 to his kinsfolks, before them creatures! And why 
 did n't he wait on those two young ladies behind 
 her? He did ask them? Well, ask them again! 
 they must want some! Poor Henpecked meekly 
 passed the can again, to be again civilly declined. 
 
 262 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 I confess the "drippings" were too much for me 
 also, though I did not give it as my excuse. Mrs. 
 Hen recommenced her pecking; poor Mr. Hen at 
 last surlily rejoined, "For Heaven's sake, don't 
 make a fuss in the cars," with an emphasis on the 
 last word that showed he was accustomed to it at 
 home, at least. With my veil down, I leaned against 
 the window, and remembering Colonel Breaux's 
 remarks two nights before concerning cross people, 
 I played his "little philosopher" for the remainder 
 of the journey. 
 
 At sunset we walked in at Lilly's gate, and aston- 
 ished her by standing before her as she sat alone 
 with her poor sick little Beatrice in her arms. . . . 
 
 Wednesday, 2 2d October, Linwood. 
 
 We left Clinton this morning, and have just now 
 arrived by the cars. Charlie came in last evening, 
 to our great surprise, so we did not scruple to leave 
 Lilly. ... 
 
 The Baton Rouge party returned late this eve- 
 ning. In spite of all preparation, Gibbes was horrified 
 at the appearance of home. 
 
 Friday, October 24th. 
 
 A letter from Jimmy, the first we have received 
 since New Orleans fell. It was dated the 10th inst., 
 and he spoke of being on the eve of running the 
 blockade, and going to Liverpool "to represent our 
 unfortunate navy," as he says, though I am at loss 
 
 263 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to imagine what he can mean. He speaks of a kind 
 friend, a Mr. George Trenholm, 1 whose kindness has 
 been perfectly extraordinary. He has befriended 
 him in every way. 
 
 Charlie has just come by the railroad, bringing 
 other letters from him, to mother and Lilly. In 
 mother's is his last good-bye on the 12th. Again 
 Mr. Trenholm is the theme. I could not help crying 
 over my dear little brother's manly, affectionate 
 letter. He says he is sure God will still care for him, 
 He has raised him up friends wherever he has been. 
 He says he lost all his clothing in going to Charles- 
 ton. There, among other kind people, he met this 
 gentleman, who carried him to his house, where he 
 has kept him ever since, treating him like his son, 
 and forced him to accept a magnificent outfit as a 
 present from him. He procured the appointment 
 which sends Jimmy abroad (I wish Jimmy had been 
 more explicit concerning it ; we hardly know what it 
 is, or how long it will keep him). The money he 
 received to pay Jimmy's passage (received from the 
 Government) he in turn obliged Jimmy to accept, 
 as he sails in one of Mr. Trenholm's steamers; and 
 not satisfied with that, gives him carte blanche on his 
 house in England, to be filled up with any amount 
 he chooses to name. 
 
 Mother went back to Clinton with Charlie that 
 
 1 Secretary of the Treasury of the Confederate States. Later, 
 Colonel James Morris Morgan (" Jimmy " in the Diary), married 
 Mr. Trenholm's daughter Helen, whose portrait appears on an issue 
 of Confederate bank notes. 
 
 264 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 evening, to my great distress; for she hates that 
 
 odious place as much as I. 
 
 I know the life will kill her if it lasts six months 
 
 longer. How happy I would be, if it were not for the 
 
 thought of her uncomfortable position there! Lilly 
 
 agrees with me that, once out of it, she never wishes 
 
 to see the vile place again. Margret says that when 
 
 the Lord had finished all the world and all the people, 
 
 he had some scraps left, and just thought he'd 
 
 "batch up" Clinton with them. Perhaps she is 
 
 right. 
 
 Sunday, 26th October. 
 
 This place is completely overrun by soldiers pass- 
 ing and repassing. Friday night five stayed here, 
 last night two more, and another has just gone. One, 
 last night, a bashful Tennesseean, had never tasted 
 sugar-cane. We were sitting around a blazing fire, 
 enjoying it hugely, when in answer to our repeated 
 invitations to help himself, he confessed he had never 
 eaten it. Once instructed, though, he got on remark- 
 ably well, and ate it in a civilized manner, consider- 
 ing it was a first attempt. 
 
 Everything points to a speedy attack on Port 
 Hudson. Rumors reach us from New Orleans of 
 extensive preparations by land and water, and of 
 the determination to burn Clinton as soon as they 
 reach it, in revenge for the looms that were carried 
 from Baton Rouge there, and which can soon be put 
 in working order to supply our soldiers, negroes, and 
 ourselves with necessary clothing. Of two evils, if 
 
 265 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Baton Rouge is to be overrun by Yankees, and 
 Clinton burned, I would rather await them at 
 home. 
 
 Sunday, November 2d. 
 
 Yesterday was a day of novel sensations to me. 
 First came a letter from mother announcing her 
 determination to return home, and telling us to be 
 ready next week. Poor mother! she wrote drearily 
 enough of the hardships we would be obliged to 
 undergo in the dismantled house, and of the new 
 experience that lay before us; but rfimporte! I am 
 ready to follow her to Yankeeland, or any other 
 place she chooses to go. It is selfish for me to be 
 so happy here while she leads such a distasteful life 
 in Clinton. In her postscript, though, she said she 
 would wait a few days longer to see about the grand 
 battle which is supposed to be impending; so our 
 stay will be indefinitely prolonged. How thankful 
 I am that we will really get back, though ! I hardly 
 believe it possible, however; it is too good to be 
 believed. 
 
 The nightmare of a probable stay in Clinton being 
 removed, I got in what the boys call a "perfect 
 gale," and sang all my old songs with a greater relish 
 than I have experienced for many a long month. 
 My heart was open to every one. So forgiving and 
 amiable did I feel that I went downstairs to see Will 
 Carter! I made him so angry last Tuesday that he 
 went home in a fit of sullen rage. It seems that some 
 time ago, some one, he said, told him such a joke 
 
 266 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 on me that he had laughed all night at it. Mortified 
 beyond all expression at the thought of having had 
 my name mentioned between two men, I, who have 
 thus far fancied myself secure from all remarks 
 good, bad, or indifferent (of men), I refused to have 
 anything to say to him until he should either explain 
 me the joke, or, in case it was not fit to be repeated 
 to me, until he apologized for the insult. He took 
 two minutes to make up a lie. This was the joke, 
 he said. Our milkman had said that that Sarah 
 Morgan was the proudest girl he ever saw; that she 
 walked the streets as though the earth was not good 
 enough for her. My milkman making his remarks! 
 I confess I was perfectly aghast with surprise, and 
 did not conceal my contempt for the remark, or his 
 authority either. But one can't fight one's milkman ! 
 I did not care for what he or any of that class could 
 say ; I was surprised to find that they thought at all ! 
 But I resented it as an insult as coming from Mr. 
 Carter, until with tears in his eyes fairly, and in all 
 humility, he swore that, if it had been anything that 
 could reflect on me in the slightest degree, he would 
 thrash the next man who mentioned my name. 
 I was not uneasy about a milkman's remarks, so I 
 let it pass, after making him acknowledge that he 
 had told me a falsehood concerning the remark 
 which had been made. But I kept my revenge. 
 I had but to cry " Milk!" in his hearing to make him 
 turn crimson with rage. At last he told me that 
 the less I said on the subject, the better it would be 
 
 267 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 for me. I could not agree. "Milk" I insisted was 
 a delightful beverage. I had always been under the 
 impression that we owned a cow, until he had 
 informed me it was a milkman, but was perfectly 
 indifferent to the animal so I got the milk. With 
 some such allusion, I could make him mad in an 
 instant. Either a guilty conscience, or the real joke, 
 grated harshly on him, and I possessed the power of 
 making it still worse. Tuesday I pressed it too far. 
 He was furious, and all the family warned me that 
 I was making a dangerous enemy. 
 
 Yesterday he came back in a good humor, and 
 found me in unimpaired spirits. I had not talked 
 even of "curds," though I had given him several 
 hard cuts on other subjects, when an accident hap- 
 pened which frightened all malicious fun out of me. 
 We were about going out after cane, and Miriam 
 had already pulled on one of her buckskin gloves, 
 dubbed "old sweety" from the quantity of cane- 
 juice they contain, when Mr. Carter slipped on its 
 mate, and held it tauntingly out to her. She tapped 
 it with a case-knife she held, when a stream of blood 
 shot up through the glove. A vein was cut and was 
 bleeding profusely. 
 
 He laughed, but panic seized the women. Some 
 brought a basin, some stood around. I ran after 
 cobwebs, while Helen Carter held the vein and 
 Miriam stood in silent horror, too frightened to 
 move. It was, indeed, alarming, for no one seemed 
 to know what to do, and the blood flowed rapidly. 
 
 268 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Presently he turned a dreadful color, and stopped 
 laughing. I brought a chair, while the others thrust 
 him into it. His face grew more deathlike, his mouth 
 trembled, his eyes rolled, his head dropped. I com- 
 prehended that these must be symptoms of fainting, 
 a phenomenon I had never beheld. I rushed after 
 water, and Lydia after cologne. Between us, it 
 passed away ; but for those few moments I thought 
 it was all over with him, and trembled for Miriam. 
 Presently he laughed again and said, "Helen, if I 
 die, take all my negroes and money and prosecute 
 those two girls! Don't let them escape!" Then, 
 seeing my long face, he commenced teasing me. 
 "Don't ever pretend you don't care for me again! 
 Here you have been unmerciful to me for months, 
 hurting more than this cut, never sparing me once, 
 and the moment I get scratched, it 's ' O Mr. Carter ! ' 
 and you fly around like wild and wait on me!" In 
 vain I represented that I would have done the same 
 for his old lame dog, and that I did not like him a 
 bit better; he would not believe it, but persisted that 
 I was a humbug and that I liked him in spite of my 
 protestations. As long as he was in danger of bleed- 
 ing to death, I let him have his way ; and, frightened 
 out of teasing, spared him for the rest of the eve- 
 ning. 
 
 Just at what would have been twilight but for the 
 moonshine, when he went home after the blood was 
 stanched and the hand tightly bound, a carriage 
 drove up to the house, and Colonel Allen was 
 
 269 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 announced. I can't say I was ever more disap- 
 pointed. I had fancied him tall, handsome, and 
 elegant; I had heard of him as a perfect fascinator, 
 a woman-killer. Lo! a wee little man is carried in, 
 in the arms of two others, — wounded in both legs 
 at Baton Rouge, he has never yet been able to stand. 
 . . . He was accompanied by a Mr. Bradford, whose 
 assiduous attentions and boundless admiration for 
 the Colonel struck me as unusual. ... I had not 
 observed him otherwise, until the General whis- 
 pered, "Do you know that that is the brother of 
 your old sweetheart?" Though the appellation was 
 by no means merited, I recognized the one he meant. 
 Brother to our Mr. Bradford of eighteen months 
 ago! My astonishment was unbounded, and I 
 alluded to it immediately. He said it was so; that 
 his brother had often spoken to him of us, and the 
 pleasant evenings he had spent at home. 
 
 November 4th, 1862. 
 O what a glorious time we had yesterday! First, 
 there were those two gentlemen to be entertained 
 all day, which was rather a stretch, I confess, so I 
 stole away for a while. Then I got the sweetest let- 
 ter from Miss Trenholm, enclosing Jimmy's photo- 
 graph, and she praised him so that I was in a damp 
 state of happiness and flew around showing my pic- 
 ture to everybody, Mr. Bradford included, who 
 pronounced him a noble boy, and admired him to 
 my satisfaction. Then came a letter from Lilly, 
 
 270 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 saying mother had decided to remain in Clinton, and 
 wanted us to join her there. O my prophetic soul! 
 My heart went below zero! Then Colonel Allen 
 sent to Port Hudson for the band to serenade us, 
 and raised my spirits in anticipation of the treat. 
 While performing my toilet in the evening, Waller 
 Fowler arrived, on his way to Vicksburg, bringing 
 a letter to Miriam from Major Drum! Heaven only 
 knows how it got here! Such a dear, kind letter, 
 dated 6th of August, only ! Affairs were very differ- 
 ent then, and he said that Lavinia's distress about 
 us was such that he must try to send her nearer 
 to us. [And such an unexpected piece of news! 
 Oh, my heart fails me! I cannot fancy Lavinia a 
 mother. 
 
 Slowly I dressed myself, and still more slowly I 
 combed Anna. I could think of nothing else until 
 I heard Miriam and Mr. Bradford call us to take a 
 walk, when we hurried down to them. A race down 
 to the railroad, a merry talk standing on the track 
 mingled with shouts of laughter in which I tried 
 to drown fears for Lavinia, made the early sunset 
 clouds pass away sooner than usual, to us, and 
 moonlight warned us to return. Mrs. Worley passed 
 us in her buggy, coming to stay all night; and half- 
 way a servant met us, saying two soldiers had come 
 to call on us. Once there, I was surprised to find 
 that one was Frank Enders, the one I least expected 
 to see. The other was a Mr. Harold. I need not 
 describe him, beyond this slight indication of his 
 
 271 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 style. Before half an hour was over, he remarked 
 to Anna that I was a very handsome girl, and 
 addressed me as — Miss Sally! That is sufficient. 
 
 Then Will Carter came in, and joined our circle. 
 His first aside was, "If you only knew how much 
 I liked you last night, you would never be cruel to 
 me again. Why, I thought you the greatest girl 
 in the world! Please let's part friends to-night 
 again!" I would not promise, for I knew I would 
 tease him yet ; and at supper, when I insisted on his 
 taking a glass of milk, his face turned so red that 
 Mrs. Carter pinched my arm blue, and refused to 
 help me to preserves because I was making Will 
 mad ! But Waller helped me, and I drank my own 
 milk to Mr. Carter's health with my sweetest smile. 
 "Confound that milkman! I wish he had cut his 
 throat before I stumbled over him," he exclaimed 
 after tea. But I had more amusing game than to 
 make him angry then ; I wanted to laugh to get rid 
 of the phantom that pursued me, Lavinia. 
 
 The evening passed off very pleasantly; I think 
 there were some eighteen of us in the parlor. About 
 ten the general went to the sugar-house (he com- 
 menced grinding yesterday) and whispered to me to 
 bring the young people down presently. Mr. Brad- 
 ford and I succeeded in moving them, and we three 
 girls retired to change our pretty dresses for plain 
 ones, and get shawls and nuages, for our warm week 
 had suddenly passed away, and it was quite cold 
 out. Some of the gentlemen remarked that very few 
 
 272 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 young ladies would have the courage to change 
 pretty evening dresses for calico, after appearing 
 to such advantage. Many would prefer wearing 
 such dresses, however inappropriate, to the sugar- 
 mill. With his droll gravity, Gibbes answered, "Oh, 
 our girls don't want to be stuck up!" 
 
 There was quite a string of us as we straggled out 
 in the beautiful moonlight, with only Mrs. Badger 
 as an escort. Mr. Enders and I had a gay walk of it, 
 and when we all met at the furnace, we stopped and 
 warmed ourselves, and had a laugh before going in. 
 Inside, it was lighted up with Confederate gas, in 
 other words, pine torches, which shed a delightful 
 light, neither too much nor too little, over the differ- 
 ent rooms. We tried each by turns. The row of 
 bubbling kettles with the dusky negroes bending 
 over in the steam, and lightly turning their paddles 
 in the foamy syrup, the whole under the influence 
 of torchlight, was very interesting; but then, Mr. 
 Enders and I found a place more pleasant still. 
 It was in the first purgery, standing at the mouth of 
 the shoot through which the liquid sugar runs into 
 the car ; and taking the place of the car as soon as it 
 was run off to the coolers, each armed with a paddle, 
 scraped the colon up and had our own fun while 
 eating. Then running along the little railroad to 
 where the others stood in the second room over the 
 vats, and racing back again all together to eat sugar- 
 cane and cut up generally around our first pine 
 torch, we had really a gay time. 
 
 273 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Presently "Puss wants a corner" was suggested, 
 and all flew up to the second staging, under the cane- 
 carrier and by the engine. Such racing for corners ! 
 Such scuffles among the gentlemen ! Such confusion 
 among the girls when, springing forward for a place, 
 we would find it already occupied! All dignity was 
 discarded. We laughed and ran as loud and fast 
 as any children, and the General enjoyed our fun 
 as much as we, and encouraged us in our pranks. 
 Waller surpassed himself, Mr. Bradford carried all 
 by storm, Mr. Enders looked like a schoolboy on a 
 frolic, Mr. Carter looked sullen and tried lazily not 
 to mar the sport completely, while Mr. Harold 
 looked timidly foolish and half afraid of our wild 
 sport. Mrs. Badger laughed, the General roared, 
 Anna flew around like a balloon, Miriam fairly 
 danced around with fun and frolic, while I laughed 
 so that it was an exertion to change corners. Then 
 forfeits followed, with the usual absurd formalities in 
 which Mr. Bradford sentenced himself unconsciously 
 to ride a barrel, Miriam to make him a love speech 
 going home, Mr. Enders to kiss my hand, and I to 
 make him (Mr. Enders) a declaration, which I 
 instantly did, in French, whereby I suffered no 
 inconvenience, as Miriam alone comprehended. 
 Then came more sugar-cane and talk in the purgery, 
 and we were horrified when Mrs. Badger announced 
 that it was twelve o'clock, and gave orders to re- 
 tire. 
 
 O the pleasant walk home! Then, of course, fol- 
 274 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lowed a last good-night on the balcony, while the 
 two young men mounted their horses and Frank 
 Enders vowed to slip off every time he had a chance 
 and come out to see us. Then there was a grand 
 proposition for a ride to Port Hudson on horseback, 
 and in order to secure a pledge that we would pass 
 by General Beale's headquarters, Mr. Enders 
 wrapped my nuage around his throat, declaring that 
 I would be obliged to stop there for it, though, if 
 prevented, he would certainly be obliged to bring 
 it back himself. This morning, however, the mar- 
 ried ladies made so much difficulty about who should 
 go, and how, that we were forced to abandon it, 
 much as we would have enjoyed it. 
 
 I am afraid to say how late it was when we got 
 to bed. I know it was almost ten when we left the 
 breakfast-table this morning, so I suppose it must 
 have been quite late before we retired. To Colonel 
 Allen's, as well as to our own great disappointment, 
 the band could not come on account of sickness. 
 
 November 6th. 
 We three girls fancied a walk last evening, and 
 immediately after dinner prepared to walk to Mrs. 
 Breaux's, only a mile, and get her to come to the 
 sugar-house. But as we put on our bonnets, Captain 
 Bradford, brother of the one who left in the morning, 
 was announced, and our expedition had to be aban- 
 doned. This is the third of the five brothers that 
 I have met, and if it were not for the peculiarity in 
 
 275 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 their voices, I should say that there was not the 
 most distant relationship existing between them. 
 This one is very handsome, quiet, and what Dickens 
 calls "in a high-shouldered state of deportment." 
 He looks like a moss-covered stone wall, a slumber- 
 ing volcano, a — what you please, so it suggests 
 anything unexpected and dangerous to stumble 
 over. A man of indomitable will and intense feeling, 
 I am sure. I should not like to rouse his temper, 
 or give him cause to hate me. A trip to the sugar- 
 house followed, as a matter of course, and we showed 
 him around, and told him of the fun we had those 
 two nights, and taught him how to use a paddle like 
 a Christian. We remained there until supper-time, 
 when we adjourned to the house, where we spent 
 the remainder of the evening very pleasantly. At 
 least I suppose he found it so, for it was ten o'clock 
 before he left. 
 
 Just now I was startled by a pistol shot. Threat- 
 ening to shoot her, Mr. Carter playfully aimed 
 Miriam's pistol at her, and before he could take fair 
 aim, one barrel went off, the shot grazing her arm 
 and passing through the armoir just behind. Of 
 course, there was great consternation. Those two 
 seem doomed to kill each other. She had played 
 him the same trick before. He swore that he would 
 have killed himself with the other shot if she had 
 been hurt; but what good would that do her? 
 
 276 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Sunday, November 9th. 
 
 I hardly know how these last days have passed. 
 I have an indistinct recollection of rides in cane- 
 wagons to the most distant field, coming back 
 perched on the top of the cane singing, "Dye my 
 petticoats," to the great amusement of the General 
 who followed on horseback. Anna and Miriam, 
 comfortably reposing in corners, were too busy to 
 join in, as their whole time and attention were en- 
 tirely devoted to the consumption of cane. It was 
 only by singing rough impromptus on Mr. Harold 
 and Captain Bradford that I roused them from their 
 task long enough to join in a chorus of "Forty 
 Thousand Chinese." I would not have changed my 
 perch, four mules, and black driver, for Queen Vic- 
 toria's coach and six. 
 
 And to think old Abe wants to deprive us of all 
 that fun ! No more cotton, sugar-cane, or rice ! No 
 more old black aunties or uncles ! No more rides 
 in mule teams, no more songs in the cane-field, no 
 more steaming kettles, no more black faces and 
 shining teeth around the furnace fires! If Lincoln 
 could spend the grinding season on a plantation, he 
 would recall his proclamation. As it is, he has only 
 proved himself a fool, without injuring us. Why, 
 last evening I took old Wilson's place at the bagasse 
 shoot, and kept the rollers free from cane until I had 
 thrown down enough to fill several carts, and had 
 my hands as black as his. What cruelty to slaves! 
 And black Frank thinks me cruel, too, when he meets 
 
 277 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 me with a patronizing grin, and shows me the nicest 
 vats of candy, and peels cane for me. Oh! very 
 cruel ! And so does Jules, when he wipes the handle 
 of his paddle on his apron, to give "Mamselle" 
 a chance to skim the kettles and learn how to work ! 
 Yes! and so do all the rest who meet us with a 
 courtesy and " Howd'y, young Missus ! " Last night 
 we girls sat on the wood just in front of the furnace 
 — rather Miriam and Anna did, while I sat in their 
 laps — and with some twenty of all ages crowded 
 around, we sang away to their great amusement. 
 Poor oppressed devils! Why did you not chunk us 
 with the burning logs instead of looking happy, and 
 laughing like fools? Really, some good old Aboli- 
 tionist is needed here, to tell them how miserable 
 they are. Can't Mass' Abe spare a few to enlighten 
 his brethren? 
 
 November ioth, Monday. 
 
 In spite of its being Sunday, no sooner was dinner 
 concluded yesterday than we adjourned, as usual, 
 to the sugar-house to see how much damage we could 
 do. Each took from a negro his long paddle, and for 
 more than half an hour skimmed the kettles indus- 
 triously, to the amazement of half a dozen strange 
 soldiers who came to see the extraordinary process 
 of sugar-making. At one time the two boys taking 
 possession of the two other paddles, not a negro was 
 at the kettles, but stood inspecting our work. The 
 hardest part we found to be discharging the batteries, 
 which none of us could do without their assistance. 
 
 278 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 We had no sooner relinquished our paddles than 
 some one announced two gentlemen at the house. 
 While we were discussing the possibility of changing 
 our dresses before being seen, enter Mr. Enders and 
 Gibbes Morgan 1 of Fenner's battery. No retreat 
 being possible, we looked charmed and self-possessed 
 in spite of plain calicoes and sticky hands. . . . Mr. 
 Enders very conveniently forgot to bring my 
 nuage. He says he started expressly to do so, but 
 reflecting that I might then have no inducement to 
 pay that visit to Port Hudson, he left it for another 
 time. . . . We arranged a visit to Gibbes, and Mr. 
 Enders made me promise to call at General Beale's 
 headquarters for a pass. "They will want you to 
 go to the Provost Marshal's for it, but you just 
 come to General Beale's, and send a courier for 
 me, and I will bring it myself!" — and half in fun, 
 half in earnest, I promised. 
 
 November 12th, Wednesday. 
 
 Once more a cripple and consigned to my bed, for 
 how long, Heaven only knows. This is written while 
 in a horizontal position, reposing on my right arm, 
 which is almost numb from having supported me for 
 some sixteen hours without turning over. Let me 
 see if I can remember how it happened. 
 
 Last evening we started out to see Gibbes, just 
 Miriam and Anna in one buggy, and Mrs. Badger 
 and I in the other. Gibbes proper, that is, the Cap- 
 
 1 H. Gibbes Morgan, a cousin. 
 279 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tain, and the General both approved, but neither 
 could accompany us. It is useless to say how much 
 I objected to going without a gentleman. Indeed, 
 when we reached the road which formed the fourth 
 side of the square formed by Colonel Breaux's, 
 Captain Bradford's, and Captain Fenner's camps, 
 I thought I should die of terror on finding myself 
 in such a crowd of soldiers on parade. My thick 
 veil alone consoled me, but I made a vow that I 
 would not go through it again, not if I never saw 
 Gibbes, Jr., again on earth. 
 
 His camp lay far off from the road, so that we had 
 to drive out to it between the other two, and asked a 
 soldier to tell him that we were there. Presently he 
 came up, looking so pleased that I was almost glad 
 that we had come; and then Captain Fenner ap- 
 peared, looking charmed, and Lieutenant Harris, 
 who looked more alarmed and timid than I. Cap- 
 tain Fenner exerted himself to entertain us, and 
 seeing how frightened I was, assured me that it was 
 an everyday occurrence for young ladies to visit 
 them in parties without gentlemen, and that it was 
 done all through the Confederacy; which, however, 
 did not comfort me for the hundreds of eyes that 
 were looking at us as our small party stood out in 
 front of the encampment around a cannon. I think 
 he can throw more expression into his eyes than any 
 one I ever saw. Miriam suggested sending Gibbes 
 to the Provost to get our pass in order to avoid the 
 crowd that might be there. Eager to leave the pres- 
 
 280 
 
' A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ent one for a more retired spot, I exclaimed, "Oh, 
 no! let us go ourselves! We can't get in a worse 
 crowd!" I meant a greater; but Captain Fenner 
 looked so comically at me that I could scarcely 
 laugh out an apology, while he laughed so that I am 
 sure he did not listen to me. What a comical 
 mouth ! I liked him very much, this time. He prom- 
 ised to come out to-day or to-morrow, and have a 
 game of "Puss wants a corner" in the sugar-house. 
 But now I can't join in, though it was to me the 
 promise was made. 
 
 But to the catastrophe at once. 
 
 As we left, we insisted on taking Gibbes to get 
 our pass, and made him get into Miriam's buggy, 
 where there was space for him to kneel and drive. 
 I was to carry out my promise to Mr. Enders. We 
 had to pass just by the camp of the First Alabama, 
 Colonel Steadman's, where the whole regiment was 
 on parade. We had not gone thirty yards beyond 
 them when a gun was discharged. The horse 
 instantly ran off. I don't believe there could be two 
 cooler individuals than Mrs. Badger and I were. 
 I had every confidence in her being able to hold him 
 so long as the bridle lasted. I hap! heard that there 
 was more danger in jumping at such moments than 
 in remaining quiet, so I sat still. There was nothing 
 to hold to, as it was a no- top, or what I call a " low- 
 neck," buggy; so my hands rested quietly in my lap. 
 Presently I saw the left rein snap close to the horse's 
 mouth. I knew all was over then, but did not utter 
 
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 a word. Death seemed inevitable, and I thought it 
 was as well to take it coolly. The horse turned 
 abruptly; I felt that something impelled me out, 
 followed the impulse, saw Mrs. Badger's white cape 
 fluttering above me, received a blow on the extrem- 
 ity of my spine that I thought would kill me before 
 I reached the ground, landing, however, on my left 
 hip, and quietly reclining on my left elbow, with my 
 face to an upset buggy whose wheels spun around 
 in empty air. I heard a rush as of horses ; I saw men 
 galloping up; I would have given worlds to spring 
 to my feet, or even to see if they were exposed ; but 
 found I could not move. I had no more power over 
 my limbs than if they were iron; only the intense 
 pain told me I was still alive. I was perfectly con- 
 scious, but unable to move. My only wonder was 
 why Miriam, who was in front, did not come to me. 
 My arm was giving away. Dimly, as through a 
 haze, or dream, I saw a soldier bending over me, 
 trying to raise me. The horse he had sprung from 
 rushed up to his master, and reared up over me. 
 I saw the iron hoofs shining above my body; death 
 was certain this time, but I could not move. He 
 raised his arm and struck him, and obedient to the 
 blow the animal turned aside and let his feet fall 
 without crushing me. Mrs. Carter, when she heard 
 it described, offered a fabulous sum for a correct 
 drawing of that most interesting tableau, the gal- 
 lant Alabamian supporting a helpless form on one 
 arm, while he reined in a fiery charger with the 
 
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 other. I was not aware of the romance ; I was con- 
 scious only of the unpleasant situation. 
 
 Dozens crowded around, and if I had been a girl 
 for display, here was an opportunity, for thirty pair 
 of soldier arms were stretched out to hold me. " No ! 
 Gibbes! Gibbes!" I whispered, and had the satisfac- 
 tion of being transferred from a stranger's to my 
 cousin's arms. Gibbes trembled more than I, but 
 with both arms clasped around me, held me up. 
 But for that I would have returned to my original 
 horizontal position. "Send for the doctor!" cried 
 one. "A surgeon, quick!" cried another. "Tell 
 them no!" I motioned. I was conscious of a clatter 
 of hoofs and cloud of dust. One performed a feat 
 never heard of before. He brought a glass of water 
 at full gallop which I instantly drained by way of 
 acknowledgment. I think I felt the unpleasant 
 situation more than the pain. Not being accustomed 
 to being the centre of attraction, I was by no means 
 pleased with the novel experience. Miriam held my 
 hand, and questioned me with a voice tremulous 
 with fear and laughter. Anna convulsively sobbed 
 or giggled some question. I felt the ridiculous posi- 
 tion as much as they. Laughing was agony, but I 
 had to do it to give them an excuse, which they read- 
 ily seized to give vent to their feelings, and encour- 
 aged by seeing it, several gold-band officers joined 
 in, constantly endeavoring to apologize or check 
 themselves with a "Really, Miss, it may seem 
 unfeeling, but it is impossible" — the rest was lost 
 
 283 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 in a gasp, and a wrestle between politeness and the 
 desire to laugh. 
 
 I don't know what I was thinking of, but I cer- 
 tainly paid very little attention to what was going 
 on. I only wanted to get home, away from all those 
 eyes; and my most earnest wish made me forget 
 them. The first remark I heard was my young 
 Alabamian crying, "It is the most beautiful somer- 
 set I ever saw! Indeed, it could not be more grace- 
 fully done! Your feet did not show!" Naif, but 
 it was just what I wanted to know, and dared not 
 ask. Some one ran up, and asked who was hurt, 
 and I heard another reply, "I am afraid the young 
 lady is seriously injured, only she won't acknowledge 
 it. It is worth while looking at her. She is the cool- 
 est, most dignified girl you ever saw"; and another 
 was added to the already too numerous audience. 
 Poor Mrs. Badger, having suffered only from torn 
 clothing, received very little sympathy, while I got 
 more than my share. I really believe that the blow 
 I received was from her two hundred and forty 
 pound body, though the Alabamian declares he saw 
 the overturning buggy strike me as I fell. 
 
 To her and others I am indebted for the repeti- 
 tion of many a remark that escaped me. One bold 
 soldier boy exclaimed, "Madame, we are all warri- 
 ors, but we can't equal that! It is braver than any 
 man!" I had to laugh occasionally to keep my 
 spirits up, but Miriam ordered me to quit, saying 
 that I would go off in hysterics. I had previously 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 repeatedly declared to the Doctor that I was not 
 hurt, and seeing him idle, and hearing Miriam's 
 remark, the Alabamian — I am told — cried, "0 
 Doctor! Doctor! can't you do something? Is she 
 going to have hysterics?" "Really," said the Doc- 
 tor, "the young lady objects to being examined; 
 but as far as I can judge, she has no limbs broken." 
 Everybody ordered me to confess at once my in- 
 jury; but how was I to inform a whole crowd that 
 I had probably broken the tip of my backbone, and 
 could not possibly sit down? So I adhered to my 
 first affirmation, and made no objection when they 
 piled the cushions up and made Gibbes put me down ; 
 for I knew he must be tired. 
 
 I am told I remained there an hour. I know they 
 talked to me, and that I answered; but have not 
 an idea of the subject. A gentleman brought a 
 buggy, and offered to drive me home; but a Captain 
 Lenair insisted on running after the ambulance. 
 Arrived there, Mr. Enders says he rushed in, crying, 
 "For God's sake, General Beale, lend me the ambu- 
 lance ! There is a dreadful accident, and I am afraid 
 the young lady will die ! ' ' Coming back he exclaimed , 
 "By Jove! boys, if you want to see a sight, run 
 down and see her hair! The prettiest auburn (?) 
 you ever looked at, and sweeps the ground! I 
 would n't mind such a fall if I had such hair to show. 
 Come look at it, do ! " Mr. Enders says he was sure 
 that it was I, as soon as hair was mentioned, and 
 started out as soon as he had finished a duty he had 
 
 285 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to perform. My garter, a purple silk ribbon, lay 
 in the centre of the ring. By the respectful silence 
 observed, I saw they recognized its use, so, unwill- 
 ing to leave such a relic behind, I asked aloud for 
 my "ribbon," whereupon Anna says the officers 
 pinched each other and smiled. Up came the am- 
 bulance, and I was in imminent danger of being 
 carried to it, when with a desperate effort I regained 
 my feet with Gibbes's help, and reached it without 
 other assistance. Beyond, I could do no more. 
 
 Captain Lenair got inside, and several others 
 lifted me up to him, and I sank motionless on the 
 floor. All bade me good-bye, and my little Alaba- 
 mian assured me that he was proud of having been 
 the first to assist me. President Miller whispered 
 to Mrs. Badger for permission to accompany us, 
 which she readily granted, and raising me on the 
 seat, he insisted on putting his arm around me to 
 hold me up. It was useless to decline. "Now, Miss 
 Morgan, I assure you I am an old married man! 
 I know you are suffering! Let me have my way!" 
 and the kind old gentleman held me so comfortably, 
 and broke the force of so many jolts, that I was 
 forced to submit and acknowledge that had it not 
 been for him I could not have endured the rough 
 road. At the gate that leads to General Beale's 
 headquarters, I saw half a dozen figures standing. 
 One was Frank Enders, who hailed the driver. 
 "Hush!" said one I recognized as Captain Lenair. 
 "The young lady is in there, and the Provost, too! " 
 
 286 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 " I don't care if it is Jeff Davis, I '11 find out if she is 
 hurt!" he answered. Miriam and Anna recognized 
 him, as they followed behind us, and called to him. 
 Without more ado, he jumped into their buggy, find- 
 ing them alone, and drove them home. He asked 
 me something as he passed, but I could not answer. 
 
 The road was dreadful. Once the driver mistook 
 it and drove us within two steps of an embankment 
 six feet high, but discovered the mistake before the 
 horses went over. 
 
 What I most dreaded was explanations when we 
 should arrive. Miriam stepped out an instant 
 before, and I heard her telling the accident. Then 
 everybody, big and little, white and black, gathered 
 around the ambulance. The Provost thought him- 
 self privileged to carry me, Gibbes insisted on try- 
 ing it with his one arm, when the General picked me 
 up and landed me on the gallery. He wanted me 
 to lie down in old Mrs. Carter's room, but confident 
 that once there I could not get up, and feeling that 
 perhaps the gentlemen would take advantage of its 
 being on the ground floor to suggest calling on me, 
 I struggled upstairs with Helen's assistance. A 
 dozen hands undressed me, and laid me on my face 
 in bed, which position I have occupied up to the 
 present, 3 p.m. . . . Unable to turn, all night I lay 
 awake, lying on my face, the least comfortable of 
 positions; but though the slightest motion tortured 
 me, I had to laugh as we talked it over. 
 
 Of course, this has been written in scratches, and 
 287 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 in my same position, which will account for many 
 blots. This morning I was interrupted by mother's 
 unexpected arrival, she having come with Dellie 
 and Morgan to spend the day. Of course, she is 
 horrified at the accident of that "unfortunate 
 Sarah"! 
 
 Saturday, November 15th. 
 
 I think I grow no better rapidly. Fortunately on 
 Wednesday night they succeeded in turning me 
 over; for my poor elbows, having lost all their skin, 
 were completely used up. Now, if I go slowly and 
 carefully, I can turn myself at the cost of some little 
 suffering. . . . 
 
 Yesterday Colonel Steadman, of the First Ala- 
 bama, called with his father. He sent me many 
 messages of condolence, and the rather unpleasant 
 advice to be cupped and scarified. His profession 
 was that of a physician before he became colonel. 
 His surgeon, whose name is Madding, told him he 
 was satisfied that I was seriously injured, though 
 I had not complained. The Colonel is the same 
 who called when we were in Clinton. They readily 
 accepted our invitation to dinner, and remained 
 until late in the afternoon, when Captain Bradford 
 came in. More messages of condolence and sym- 
 pathy upstairs, which produced no visible effect on 
 my spine, though very comforting to the spirit. 
 
 November 16th. 
 
 I was interrupted yesterday morning by Mrs. 
 
 288 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Badger, who wished to apply a few dry cups to my 
 back, to which I quietly submitted, and was unable 
 to move afterwards without pain, as a reward for 
 my patience. But towards sunset came two dear let- 
 ters that made me forget what I had suffered, one 
 from George, and one from Jimmy, dated Bermudas. 
 For the first time I know what my dear little brother 
 suffered during those long months when we could 
 not hear if he were dead or alive. He kept the secret 
 until he no longer needed either friends or money; 
 and now he tells it with a simplicity that made me 
 cry fit to break my heart when I was left alone in the 
 twilight with no one to see. . . . George comforts me 
 with hopes of Peace, and a speedy return. If it 
 could only be! . . . 
 
 This morning the boom of Yankee guns reached 
 my ears ; a sound I had hoped never to hear again. 
 It is only those poor devils (I can afford to pity 
 them in their fallen state) banging away at some 
 treasonable sugar-houses that are disobedient 
 enough to grind cane on the other side of the 
 river. I hear that one is at Mrs. Cain's. The 
 sound made my heart throb. What if the fight 
 should come off before I can walk? It takes three 
 people to raise me whenever it is necessary for me 
 to move; I am worse than helpless. 
 
 Tuesday, November 18th. 
 A note just came from mother, telling me that the 
 most awful Yankees were coming to burn Linwood 
 
 289 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and take Port Hudson, and so this evening I must 
 walk down to the cars with a chair to rest in until 
 they came, and must certainly be in Clinton to-night. 
 Delightful arrangement ! I wrote to ask if she knew 
 that my legs were of no more service to me than to 
 her? Dr. Dortch has again been murdering me . . . 
 says perhaps I can stand by Sunday. If the Yankees 
 come before — 
 
 Friday night, November 2 1st. 
 Lying on my face, as it were, with my poor elbows 
 for a support, I try to pass away these lonely hours. 
 For with the exception of old Mrs. Carter, who is 
 downstairs, and the General, who is elsewhere, Anna 
 and I are the only white people on the place. The 
 cause of this heartless desertion is a grand display 
 of tableaux vivants at Jackson, for the benefit of the 
 Soldiers' Hospital, and of course it would be sinful 
 to stay away, particularly as Anna is a great deal 
 better, and I need no care. . . . 
 
 Thursday, December 4th. 1 
 
 It would be only the absurd tableaux I agreed to, 
 
 with plenty of fun, and nothing more. So I tried to 
 
 be merry and content, and so I should have been, 
 
 for there was plenty to talk about, and every one 
 
 1 A page is here torn from the Diary. It evidently related the be- 
 ginning of an incident of which my sister and I have often heard our 
 mother tell: how, after the Jackson tableaux, our aunt Miriam laugh- 
 ingly staked herself in a game of cards with Will Carter — and lost. 
 The sequel follows, the scene at the house of his uncle, General Carter, 
 beginning in the middle of a sentence. — W. D. 
 
 290 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 was so solicitous for my comfort ; and there was Mr. 
 Enders who would wheel my chair for me wherever 
 I wished it, and was as kind and attentive as a 
 brother. Surely my first trip should have been a gay 
 one! Miriam sat down by the piano, Mr. Enders 
 drew me by her, and we three sang until dark 
 together. A Mr. Morse, his wife, and mother, who 
 are spending a week here, were our audience. The 
 first two retired at candle-light, while the latter, 
 present at the play the night before, remained to the 
 last. But while we sang, every noise at the parlor 
 door caused us to turn with the apprehension of 
 we hardly knew what. A dozen times Mr. Enders 
 consulted his watch, and telegraphed his fears to me, 
 though I persisted in thinking it only the fun that 
 had been intended. 
 
 Half-past six came, and with it, Mrs. Worley. 
 Now, she knew better. For Dr. Dortch had come to 
 see me, and was guiding me in my game of euchre 
 in which I was not even as wise as my partner, Mr. 
 Enders, when her note came. Instantly we put 
 down our cards, while Miriam begged him to write 
 and tell her the true story. He wrote and we all 
 read it. Not only that, but Miriam added a post- 
 script which I think was this, word for word: "Mrs. 
 Worley, it is only a bet at cards, intended as the 
 merest joke. There is not a word of truth in it, and 
 I will consider it the greatest favor if you will 
 contradict the report whenever you may hear it!" 
 Explicit enough, one would think; but still she came, 
 
 291 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and sent word into the parlor that one of the ladies 
 present when Will made the announcement had sent 
 her contribution to the evening's fun. It turned 
 out to be a complete bridal suit, worn by the lady 
 a year ago! That was too serious a jest. Miriam 
 went into the other room to speak to Mrs. Worley, 
 who, cold as an icicle, refused to receive or make 
 explanation, beyond "I won't kiss you; this is too 
 cruel." There was nothing to do; she returned 
 laughing, but certainly feeling herself the injured 
 one, and so she was. 
 [4. In fifteen minutes, another stir. , I held my breath 
 
 with expectation. Lydia introduced — Mr. G . 
 
 Ten miles he had ridden through mud and water 
 that freezing evening, at Will Carter's request, to 
 perform the ceremony between him and Miriam. 
 Lydia laughed until she could hardly introduce him. 
 He, hat in hand, bowed around the convulsed circle 
 with a countenance shining with the most sublimely 
 vacant expression. O that man's idiotic face, and 
 solemn, portentous look, brought a writhe even to 
 my trembling lips! Mr. Enders would have given 
 one an excellent idea of the effect produced by 
 a real old piney-woods chill ; he shook as with 
 suppressed laughter. But when the tremendous 
 preacher (tremendous because composed of gigantic 
 Nothing) turned his lugubrious face towards Mrs. 
 Morse, and addressed her as Mrs. Morgan under 
 the impression that she had come down to see her 
 daughter married, Miriam's risibles could no longer 
 
 292 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 stand it, and she flew from the room in time to avoid 
 a disgraceful explosion. 
 
 I was growing frightened. Mr. Enders was lean- 
 ing over my chair, and involuntarily it burst from 
 me with a groan, "For God's sake, help me save 
 her!" "Hush! Lie back in your chair! I will!" 
 he whispered. " But for the love of Heaven, save my 
 sister ! " " I'll do what you will, if you will only keep 
 still and not hurt yourself. I '11 do my best." It was 
 all whispered, that the minister and Mrs. Morse 
 might not hear. " If it were your sister, what would 
 you do?" "My God! I'd meet him on the front 
 gallery and kick him out ! Then I 'd know one of us 
 must die to-morrow!" "But under the circum- 
 stances it is impossible for Gibbes to act!" I urged, 
 while we agreed that it was the most unwarrantable 
 piece of insolence ever perpetrated. While we talked, 
 Gibbes had seized Miriam and, without interfering 
 or advising further, advised her to keep her room 
 and not meet Will. 
 
 But I skipped the most important part. She came 
 back when she had recovered her composure, and 
 sat by me. Mr. Enders, when I asked what was best 
 to do, whispered that to spare Will's feelings, and 
 avoid a most painful scene, as well as to show that 
 she had no serious intentions whatever, she should 
 see that the minister was put in full possession of 
 the facts before it went any farther. He felt keenly 
 his unpleasant situation, and it was only our earnest 
 request that induced him to remain, or give his ad- 
 
 293 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 vice. Who should explain? Certainly not the Gene- 
 ral. He thought the joke carried too far, and retired 
 
 to his room before Mr. G came. How take 
 
 part against his own nephew? Not Gibbes either, 
 for he had gone upstairs too worried and annoyed 
 to talk to any one; besides, it was his wife's cousin. 
 Who then? Miriam is one woman in a thousand. 
 Rising, she crossed the room slowly and as dignified 
 as though she only meant to warm herself. I think 
 I see her before me now, as she stood before the fire, 
 
 facing Mr. G , looking so handsome and stylish 
 
 in her black grenadine with the pale-green trimming, 
 telling her story. Plainly, earnestly, distinctly, with- 
 out hurry or embarrassment, in the neatest, pretti- 
 est, most admirable speech I ever heard, she told 
 everything just as it was. Bravo for Miriam ! There 
 lives not the woman in this State who could do so 
 painful a thing in such a beautiful way. I felt like 
 hugging her. Oh, it was magnificent! He heard her 
 in surprise, but when once satisfied of its truth, he 
 said, "Well, Miss Morgan, when you stand on the 
 floor, when I ask if you will, it is your privilege to 
 answer, 'No.'" Miriam is not one to do so cruel 
 a thing; she is too noble to deceive him so far and 
 wound him so cruelly before all, when he believed 
 himself so near happiness. She said that it was 
 mockery, she would not suffer him to believe for an 
 instant that she meant to marry him ; if he believed 
 it, he was deceiving himself wilfully, for he already 
 knew that she had told him it could never be. He 
 
 294 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 agreed to take it only as a jest, promised that he 
 would not feel hurt; and with the most admirable 
 tact, Miriam, the trump (I have been playing euchre, 
 excuse me), settled the minister, and the wedding, 
 by her splendid behavior, with no trouble. 
 
 A rapid step was heard in the hall; the bride- 
 groom had come! I know he must have killed his 
 horse. He certainly did not leave his house before 
 one o'clock; it is twenty miles by the road to Clin- 
 ton; he went there, procured his license, and was 
 here at seven, in full costume. He bounded up- 
 stairs to meet the bride-elect. 
 
 I can fancy him going to Clinton, doubting, fear- 
 ing, believing against all evidence, yet trembling; 
 securing the license. at last, persuading himself that 
 she would not dare refuse when the deeds were 
 recorded in court, and he held them in his hand ; — 
 and very few women would have been brave enough, 
 too; he did not know My Miriam! I can fancy the 
 poor horse lashed through the heavy mire, tired, 
 foaming, panting, while his strong arm urged it on, 
 with whip and spur; I can hear the exulting beating 
 of his heart, that wild refrain that was raging as his 
 death-knell — "Mine! Mine at last!" I could hear 
 it, I say. It rung in my ears all night. He held her 
 in his power; she must be his; hastily, yet carefully 
 he performs his toilet ; I dare say he stopped to think 
 which cravat she liked best. "Mine! Mine!" the 
 song is ringing in every stroke of his throbbing 
 breast. Mount! Mount! Two miles fly past. He 
 
 295 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 sweeps through the moonlight like Death riding 
 on a pale horse; yonder shine lights in the parlor; 
 and that above; is it hers? He throws himself from 
 his horse; his hour has come, hers too; with the 
 license and minister, his own adoration — and she 
 must love him too ! — he will win ! Show him the 
 way to her! She is his forever now! His? My God! 
 had I not reason to cry, "In God's name, save her, 
 Frank!" He reaches Mrs. Carter's room, and tri- 
 umphantly throws the license on her table. He is 
 ready now; where is his bride? 
 
 Some one meets him. "Will!" 
 
 The story is told ; she is not to be won by force ; 
 she has appealed to the minister; he has carried the 
 jest too far. The strong man reels; he falls on the 
 bed in his bridal array in agony too great for tears. 
 I dare not ask what followed; they tell me it was 
 awful. What madness and folly, to dream of forc- 
 ing her to marry him! Why, if she had loved him, 
 the high-handed proceeding would have roused the 
 lion of her spirit! He is no mate for her. He has but 
 one thought, and at last words come. "Miriam! 
 Miriam ! Call her, for the love of God ! " One word ! 
 one look ! Oh, she will take pity on him in his misery. 
 Let her come for one instant ! she cannot be so cruel ! 
 she will marry him if only to save him from death, 
 or worse! And fortunate it was that he was not 
 armed, one of the two would have died; perhaps 
 both. The heartbroken prayer goes on. The exult- 
 ing "Mine! Mine!" has changed to the groan of 
 
 296 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 despair, "Miriam! for the love of God! come to 
 me!" 
 
 And where is the bride? Gibbes has her caged in 
 the next room, this one where I am now lying. He 
 has advised her not to appear ; to go to bed and say 
 no more. Sent to bed like a baby on her wedding 
 night ! She says that she laughed aloud when the door 
 closed on her. She laughing in here, he groaning in 
 there, it is to be hoped they each drowned the voice 
 of the other. . . . The minister said good-night. He 
 disclaimed all feeling of pique ; he felt chiefly for the 
 young lady — and the disappointed groom. (Ouf !) 
 I sent to ask Will to come to me alone for a moment ; 
 no, he could not see me; write to him. 
 
 Slowly, as though an aged, infirm, tottering man, 
 we heard him descending the steps. How different 
 from the step that carried him up ! We, conscience- 
 stricken, sat within, with doors closed. He was off. 
 He has again mounted his horse, and the broken- 
 hearted man, hardly less cruel than the expectant 
 bridegroom, dashes the rowel in his side and disap- 
 pears like a whirlwind. 
 
 I can fancy mother's and Lilly's agony, when they 
 hear of the wedding. All Clinton knew it last night, 
 and if they did, too, I know there was as little sleep 
 for them as for us. I know mother shrieked, "My 
 child! My child!" while Lilly cried. How could he 
 believe she meant to marry him, without even send- 
 ing word to mother when he was going to the very 
 
 297 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 town? Bah ! What a jolly go if those two got hyster- 
 ics about the supposed Moral Suicide! Glad I was 
 not at the tea-party! Well, fearing the effect of such 
 a shock in mother's nervous state, Gibbes advised 
 Miriam to go on the cars this evening, and convince 
 her that it had not occurred, court records and 
 licenses and minister to the contrary notwithstand- 
 ing; so my duck, my angel, she whom I call my Peri 
 with the singed wings (children who play in the fire 
 must expect to be burned), set off on her pious 
 errand, without the protecting arm of her bride- 
 groom. 
 
 Sunday, 7th December. 
 
 I have had a shock! While writing alone here 
 (almost all have gone to church), I heard a step 
 ascending the stair. What* I asked, if it should be 
 Will? Then I blamed myself for supposing such a 
 thing possible. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, 
 I raised my head, and was greeted with a ghastly 
 smile. I held out my hand. "Will!" "Sarah!" 
 (Misery discards ceremony.) He stood before me 
 the most woebegone, heartbroken man I ever saw. 
 
 With a forced laugh he said, "Where is my bride? 
 Pshaw! I know she has gone to Clinton! I have 
 come to talk to you. Was n't it a merry wedding?" 
 The hollow laugh rang again. I tried to jest, but 
 failed. "Sit down and let me talk to you," I said. 
 He was in a wayward humor; cut to the heart, ready 
 to submit to a touch of silk, or to resist a grasp of 
 iron. This was the man I had to deal with, and get 
 
 298 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 from him something he clung to as to — not his life, 
 but — Miriam. And I know so little how to act in 
 such a case, know so little about dealing gently with 
 wild natures! 
 
 He alarmed me at first. His forced laugh ceased ; 
 he said that he meant to keep that license always. 
 It was a joke on him yesterday, but with that in his 
 possession, the tables would be turned on her. He 
 would show it to her occasionally. It should keep 
 her from marrying any one else. I said that it would 
 be demanded, though; he must deliver it. The very 
 devil shot in his eye as he exclaimed fiercely, "If 
 any one dares demand it, I'll die before giving it 
 up! If God Almighty came, I'd say no! I'll die 
 with it first!" O merciful Father, I thought; what 
 misery is to come of this jest. He must relinquish 
 it. Gibbes will force him into it, or die in the 
 attempt; George would come from Virginia. . . . 
 Jimmy would cross the seas. . . . And I was alone 
 in here to deal with such a spirit! 
 
 I commenced gently. Would he do Miriam such a 
 wrong? It was no wrong, he said; let him follow his 
 own will. "You profess to love her? " I asked. " Pro- 
 fess? Great God! how can you? I adore her! I tell 
 you that, in spite of all this, I love her not more — 
 that is impossible, — but as much as ever! Look at 
 my face and ask that! " burst from him with the wild- 
 est impulse. "Very well. This girl you love, then, you 
 mean to make miserable. You stand forever between 
 her and her happiness, because you love her! Is 
 
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A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 this love ? " He was sullenly silent. I went on : " Not 
 only her happiness, but her honor is concerned. 
 You who love her so, do her this foul injury." 
 "Would it affect her reputation?" he asked. "Ask 
 yourself! Is it quite right that you should hold in 
 your hands the evidence that she is Mrs. Carter, 
 when you know she is not, and never will be? Is it 
 quite honorable? " " In God's name, would it injure 
 Miriam? I 'd rather die than grieve her." 
 
 My iron was melted, but too hot to handle; I put 
 it on one side, satisfied that I and I only had saved 
 Miriam from injury and three brothers from blood- 
 shed, by using his insane love as a lever. It does 
 not look as hard here as it was in reality ; but it was 
 of the hardest struggles I ever had — indeed, it was 
 desperate. I had touched the right key, and satisfied 
 of success, turned the subject to let him believe he 
 was following his own suggestions. When I told him 
 he must free Miriam from all blame, that I had 
 encouraged the jest against her repeated remon- 
 strances, and was alone to blame, he generously took 
 it on himself. "I was so crazy about her," he said, 
 "that I would have done it anyhow. I would have 
 run any risk for the faintest chance of obtaining 
 her"; and much more to the same purpose that, 
 though very generous in him, did not satisfy my 
 conscience. But he surprised me by saying that 
 he was satisfied that if I had been in my room, and 
 he had walked into the parlor with the license, she 
 would have married him. What infatuation! He 
 
 300 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 says, though, that I only prevented it; that my influ- 
 ence, by my mere presence, is stronger than his 
 words. I don't say that is so; but if I helped save 
 her, thank Heaven! 
 
 It is impossible to say one half that passed, but 
 he showed me his determination to act just as he has 
 heretofore, and take it all as a joke, that no blame 
 might be attached to her. "Besides, I'd rather die 
 than not see her; I laugh, but you don't know what 
 I suffer!" Poor fellow! I saw it in his swimming 
 eyes. 
 
 At last he got up to go before they returned from 
 church. "Beg her to meet me as she always has. 
 I told Mrs. Worley that she must treat her just the 
 same, because I love her so. And — say I go to 
 Clinton to-morrow to have that record effaced, and 
 deliver up the license. I would not grieve her; in- 
 deed, I love her too well." His voice trembled as 
 well as his lips. He took my hand, saying, "You 
 are hard on me. I could make her happy, I know, 
 because I worship her so. I have been crazy about 
 her for three years; you can't call it a mere fancy. 
 Why are you against me? But God bless you! 
 Good-bye!" And he was gone. 
 
 Why? O Will, because I love my sister too much 
 to see her miserable merely to make you happy ! 
 
 Friday, 12th December. 
 My cripple friend that I mentioned so far back 
 continues to send me the most affecting messages. 
 
 301 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 "He is really wretched about me; never was more 
 distressed ; thinks of nothing else " ; and so on through 
 the whole list. To cap the climax, he sends me word 
 that he can now walk on crutches, and the first time 
 he can venture in a buggy, means to call on me. 
 Que le del nCen preserve I What could we talk about? 
 "His'n" and "her'n" several misfortunes? That's 
 too bad! Every one teases me unmercifully about 
 my new conquest. I can't help but be amused ; and 
 yet, beware, young girls, of expressing sympathy, 
 even for soldiers! There is no knowing what effect 
 it may produce. 
 
 Sunday, December 14th. 
 Yesterday evening, some time before sunset, Mr. 
 Enders was announced, to our great surprise, as we 
 knew he had been in Clinton all the week, having 
 been transferred there instead of to Jackson, as he 
 threatened. He was the most miserable, unhappy 
 creature one could possibly imagine; even too mel- 
 ancholy for me to laugh at him, which expresses 
 the last degree of wretchedness. To all our questions, 
 he had but one answer, that he had had the most 
 dreadful attack of "blues" ever since he was here 
 Sunday; that he had waited every evening at the 
 cars, expecting us, and at last, seeing that we had 
 no intention of coming, he could no longer stand 
 the temptation, so got permission to come down for 
 a day to Port Hudson so he could come out to see 
 us. . . . Before we could fairly get him cheerful, Will 
 Carter and Ned Badger, who returned only this 
 
 302 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 week from Kentucky, entered. Will was in a bad 
 humor, and wanted to vent it on us ; so after waiting 
 some time, he proposed that the two young men 
 should go with him, pocketing at the same moment 
 the cards which had won Miriam and saying they 
 would have a nice game together, and just the rarest 
 old whiskey! He looked around to see the effect 
 produced. We girls did not move, but Mr. Enders 
 said he must really return immediately to Port 
 Hudson, and start for Clinton from there in the 
 night. Will thought it would be such a triumph over 
 us to carry him off, that he insisted. They'd have 
 a fine time! cure the blues! etc. Ned was more 
 than willing; and at last Mr. Enders said, Well! he 
 felt just so desperate that he did not care what 
 he'did ; he believed he would go. I saw he was in 
 a reckless humor, and that Will knew it, too, and 
 I promised to make at least an effort to save him. 
 Miriam spoke to him apart, but he said he had 
 promised now; he must go. Will ran down trium- 
 phant to mount his horse, calling him to follow. 
 All ran out to see him off, when Frank came back 
 to tell me good-bye. I seized the opportunity, and 
 did n't I plead! I told him I would not ask him to 
 stay here, though he knew we would be happy to 
 have him stay ; and begged him to go back to the 
 camp, and leave Will alone. ... I suggested other 
 resources; talked of his mother whom he idolizes, 
 pleaded like a grandmother; and just as I wound up, 
 came Will's voice from below, "Why the devil don't 
 
 303 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 you come, Enders? Hurry!" He moved a step, 
 looked at me; I dropped my head without a word. 
 Here I must confess to the most consummate piece 
 of acting; I am sorry, but as long as it saved him 
 from doing what I knew he would have cause to 
 regret, I am not ashamed of having tried it. Will 
 called impatiently again, as he stood hesitating 
 before me; I did not say, "Stay," I just gave the 
 faintest sigh imaginable. . . . He went down and told 
 Will he would not go! Of course, Will went off in 
 a rage with us. 
 
 Friday, December 26th, 1862. 
 
 Monday Dr. Woods and Mr. Van Ingen stopped, 
 just from their regiment in Kentucky and on their 
 way home, and I begged so hard to see the Doctor, 
 and promised so faithfully to retire if I suffered too 
 much, that Mrs. Badger yielded, like an angel, and 
 I carried my point. The Doctor ! We looked in vain 
 at each other; I for my dandy friend in irreproach- 
 able broadcloth, immaculate shirt bosoms and per- 
 fect boots; he for the brusque, impulsive girl who 
 in ordinary circumstances would have run dancing 
 into the parlor, would have given him half-glad, half- 
 indifferent greeting, and then found either occasion 
 to laugh at him or would have turned elsewhere for 
 amusement. We looked, I say, in vain. Before me 
 stood my pattern of neatness in a rough uniform of 
 brown homespun. A dark flannel shirt replaced the 
 snowy cambric one, and there was neither cravat nor 
 collar to mark the boundary line between his dark 
 
 304 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 face and the still darker material. And the dear 
 little boots! O ye gods and little fishes! they were 
 clumsy, and mud-spattered ! If my mouth twitched 
 with laughter as I silently commented, the Doctor's 
 did not! I, who always danced on my way, came in 
 lying back on my pillows, and wheeled in by a serv- 
 ant. The Doctor's sympathy was really touching, 
 and poor consolation he gave when he heard the 
 story. "You will recover, to a certain extent; but 
 will feel it more or less all your life." 
 
 I am the ruin of all these puns ; the gentlemen will 
 hate me; I must learn to ignore their conundrums 
 until they answer them themselves, and to wait 
 patiently for the pun instead of catching it and 
 laughing before it is half-spoken. Why can't I do 
 as the others do? There was Mr. Van Ingen with 
 his constant stream of them, that I anticipated 
 several times. He said to me, " If I were asked what 
 town in Louisiana I would rather be in this evening, 
 what would my answer be?" I should have looked 
 perfectly innocent, and politely inquisitive; but I 
 did neither. I saw the answer instantly, and 
 laughed. "Ah, you have guessed! I can see it in 
 your eyes!" he said. Of course I had, but I told him 
 I was afraid to say it, for fear he might think I was 
 flattering myself. Then we both laughed. The 
 place he referred to was Bayou, Sarah. . . . 
 
 Yesterday, being a beautiful day, I was carried 
 down in honor of Christmas, to meet Captain Fenner 
 
 305 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and Mr. Duggan who were to dine with us. The cars 
 had brought Miriam a beautiful little set of collars 
 and cuffs from Dellie, and the oddest, sweetest little 
 set for me, from Morgan, for our Christmas gift. 
 It is all Lilly. . . . 
 
 We had an exquisite Christmas gift the night 
 before, a magnificent serenade, a compliment from 
 Colonel Breaux. It very singularly happened that 
 Miriam, Anna, and Ned Badger were sitting up in 
 the parlor, watching alone for Christmas, when the 
 band burst forth at the steps, and startled them into 
 a stampede upstairs. But Gibbes, who came with 
 the serenaders, caught them and brought them 
 back into the parlor, where there were only eight 
 gentlemen ; and in this novel, unheard-of style, only 
 these two girls, with Gibbes to play propriety, enter- 
 tained all these people at midnight while the band 
 played without. . . . 
 
 I commenced writing to-day expressly to speak 
 of our pleasant Christmas; yet it seems as though 
 I would write about anything except that, since I 
 have not come to it yet. Perhaps it is because I feel 
 I could not do it justice. At least, I can say who 
 was there. At sunset came Captain Bradford and 
 Mr. Conn, the first stalking in with all the assurance 
 which a handsome face and fine person can lend, the 
 second following with all the timidity of a first 
 appearance. . . . Again, after a long pause, the door 
 swung open, and enter Mr. Halsey, who bows and 
 takes the seat on the other side of me, and Mr. Brad- 
 
 306 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ford, of Colonel Allen memory, once more returned 
 to his regiment, who laughs, shakes hands all around, 
 and looks as happy as a schoolboy just come home 
 for the holidays, who has never-ending visions of 
 plumcakes, puddings, and other sweet things. While 
 all goes on merrily, another rap comes, and enter 
 Santa Claus, dressed in the old uniform of the Mexi- 
 can War, with a tremendous cocked hat, and pre- 
 posterous beard of false hair, which effectually con- 
 ceal the face, and but for the mass of tangled short 
 curls no one could guess that the individual was 
 Bud. It was a device of the General's, which took 
 us all by surprise. Santa Claus passes slowly around 
 the circle, and pausing before each lady, draws from 
 his basket a cake which he presents with a bow, 
 while to each gentleman he presents a wineglass 
 replenished from a most suspicious-looking black 
 bottle which also reposes there. Leaving us all 
 wonder and laughter, Santa Claus retires with a 
 basket much lighter than it had been at his en- 
 trance. . . . Then follow refreshments, and more and 
 more talk and laughter, until the clock strikes 
 twelve, when all these ghosts bid a hearty good- 
 night and retire. 
 
 January 1st, Thursday, 1863. 
 
 1863! Why I have hardly become accustomed to 
 writing '62 yet! Where has this year gone? With 
 all its troubles and anxieties, it is the shortest I ever 
 spent! '61 and '62 together would hardly seem three 
 hundred and sixty-five days to me. Well, let time 
 
 307 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 fly. Every hour brings us nearer our freedom, and we 
 are two years nearer peace now than we were when 
 South Carolina seceded. That is one consolation. . . . 
 I learn, to my unspeakable grief, that the State 
 House is burned down. 
 
 Sunday, January 4th. 
 
 One just from Baton Rouge tells us that my pre- 
 sentiment about our house is verified; Yankees do 
 inhabit it, a Yankee colonel and his wife. They say 
 they look strangely at home on our front gallery, 
 pacing up and down. . . . And a stranger and a 
 Yankee occupies our father's place at the table where 
 he presided for thirty-one years. . . . And the old 
 lamp that lighted up so many eager, laughing faces 
 around the dear old table night after night; that 
 with its great beaming eye watched us one by one 
 as we grew up and left our home; that witnessed 
 every parting and every meeting ; by which we sang, 
 read, talked, danced, and made merry; the lamp 
 that Hal asked for as soon as he beheld the glitter- 
 ing chandeliers of the new innovation, gas; the lamp 
 that all agreed should go to me among other treas- 
 ures, and be cased in glass to commemorate the 
 old days, — our old lamp has passed into the hands 
 of strangers who neither know nor care for its his- 
 tory. And mother's bed (which, with the table and 
 father's little ebony stand, alone remained unin- 
 jured) belongs now to a Yankee woman! Father 
 prized his ebony table. He said he meant to have a 
 gold plate placed in its centre, with an inscription, 
 
 308 
 
ANTE-BELLUM HOME OF JUDGE THOMAS GIBBES MORGAN, 
 ON CHURCH STREET, BATON ROUGE, LA. 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and I meant to have it done myself when he died so 
 soon after. A Yankee now sips his tea over it, just 
 where some beau or beauty of the days of Charles II 
 may have rested a laced sleeve or dimpled arm. . . .* 
 Give the devil his due. Bless Yankees for one 
 thing; they say they tried hard to save our State 
 House. 
 
 1 This "little ebony table" — which happened to be mahogany so 
 darkened with age as to be recognized only by an expert many years 
 after the war — and a mahogany rocking-chair are the two pieces of 
 furniture which survived the sacking of Judge Morgan's house and 
 remain to his descendants to-day. Such other furniture as could 
 be utilized was appropriated by negroes. — W. D. 
 
BOOK IV 
 
 From my sick bed, this 15th day of January, 1863. 
 Linwood, Thursday. 
 
 Am I not glad to get another blank book ! On Sun- 
 day my old one gave out, to my unspeakable distress, 
 and I would have been dSsolSe if I had not had three 
 or four letters to answer, as writing is my chief occu- 
 pation during my tedious illness. O that unfortunate 
 trip to Port Hudson ! Have I not cause to remember 
 and regret it? Two months last Sunday since I have 
 been lying here a cripple, and I am not yet able to 
 take a step. However, on Monday mother sent Dr. 
 Woods as my fourth physician, and I have made up 
 my mind that either he or Nature will effect a cure 
 before long. Wonder how it feels to walk? It makes 
 me weary to see others try it; I always fear that the 
 exertion must be very painful — an absurd idea 
 which I endeavor to keep to myself. . . . 
 
 Monday, January 19th. 
 That blessed Mr. Halsey like an angel of mercy 
 sent me "Kate Coventry" yesterday, just when I 
 was pining for a bonne bouche of some kind, I did not 
 care what, whether a stick of candy or an equally 
 palatable book. It is delightful to have one's wishes 
 realized as soon as they are made. I think it rather 
 caused me to relent towards Mr. Halsey ; I did not 
 
 310 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary' 
 
 feel half so belligerent as I did just the Sunday 
 before. At all events, I felt well enough to go down in 
 the evening when he called again, though I had been 
 too indisposed to do so on a previous occasion. (O 
 Sarah !) 
 
 Wheeled into the parlor, there I beheld not my 
 friend alone, but several other individuals whose pres- 
 ence rather startled me. I found myself undergoing 
 the terrors of an introduction to a Colonel Locke, 
 and to my unspeakable surprise, Major Buckner was 
 claiming the privilege of shaking hands with me, and 
 Colonel Steadman was on the other side, and — was 
 that Mr. Halsey? O never! The Mr. Halsey I knew 
 was shockingly careless of his dress, never had his 
 hair smooth ; let his beard grow as it would, and wore 
 a most ferocious slouched hat. This one had taken 
 more than one look at the glass, a thing I should have 
 imagined the other incapable of doing. He had be- 
 stowed the greatest care and attention on his dress, 
 had brought his beard within reasonable limits, had 
 combed his hair with the greatest precision, and held 
 lightly in one hand an elegant little cap that I am 
 sure must be provokingly becoming. Why, he was 
 handsome! Ah cat some mistake, surely, I cried to 
 myself. My Mr. Halsey was not, certainly! " If it be 
 I, as I hope it may be, I 've a little dog at home who 
 will surely know me," I kept repeating. I resolved to 
 test the little dog's sagacity, so I pretended to know 
 this apparition, and thanked him for the pleasure he 
 had afforded me by sending me "Kate Coventry." 
 
 3ii 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 He looked conscious and pleased! The "little dog" 
 had found out his identity ! I was more puzzled than 
 ever. How account for this wondrous change? . . . 
 But metaphorphosed "John" talked! He was ex- 
 patiating at a most extraordinary rate, and had 
 been doing so for an hour after supper, when Gibbes 
 drew his chair near me (Gibbes likes to hear what 
 visitors say to his little sister) ; whereupon timid Mr. 
 Halsey drew his slightly back, and very soon after 
 asked for his horse. O Gibbes ! you wretch ! what an 
 amusing t6te-a-t§te you spoiled, you innocent! And 
 the General, of course, only waited for his exit before 
 beginning to tease me unmercifully. I must put an 
 end to this; they shall not bring such unjust charges 
 against him. Yet how am I to make them see reason? 
 
 Night. 
 I am more pleased to-night than I could well ex- 
 press. I have been talking to an old and dear friend, 
 no other than Will Pinckney! His arrival was as 
 unexpected as it was agreeable. The cry of "Here 
 comes Will Pinckney" sent me back to August, '60, 
 when the words were always the forerunner of fun 
 and frolic. . . . He told me what he called his secrets ; 
 of how he had been treated by the War Department 
 (which has, indeed, behaved shockingly towards the 
 Colonel). 
 
 Thursday, 2 2d January. 
 
 What a rush of visitors last night! One would 
 imagine they had all come by appointment, ex- 
 
 312 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 pressly to have an impromptu dance, which they 
 certainly enjoyed, by the way. There was little Cap- 
 tain C , the Susceptible and Simple, who so in- 
 nocently says "I seen" and "I done it," without 
 the faintest suspicion of the peculiarity, and looks 
 so sweet, and guileless, and amiable, and soft, that I 
 can't help wondering if he would be sticky if I touch 
 him. Indeed, I think his hands stick, at least; for 
 when he told me good-bye, it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that I extracted mine from his grasp (he 
 having forgotten to return it during a long farewell 
 address), and even when I succeeded in recovering 
 it, by being almost rude, it was not released without 
 a very sensible pressure from the putty, or whatever 
 it is that is so tenacious. I am afraid it is rather a 
 habit of his, which has lost all force or meaning by 
 being too frequently repeated. Then there was a 
 horrid little wretch, vulgar and underbred (to my 
 
 idea), to whom I was introduced as Mr. G . . . . 
 
 But here is Lieutenant Dupre, whom I have not yet 
 introduced, though we have met before. Tall, good- 
 looking, a fine form, and not a sparkling face, I am 
 inclined to believe that his chief merit lies in his legs. 
 Certainly when he dances he puts his best foot for- 
 ward, and knows it, too. Miriam, who adores danc- 
 ing, is flirting openly with this divinity of the 
 "Deux Temps" and polka, and skims around with 
 his arm about her (position sanctified by the lively 
 air Lydia is dashing off on the piano) with a grace 
 and lightness only equaled by his own. And Lieu- 
 
 3i3 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tenant Duggan, with his good, honest, clever face 
 which so unmistakably proclaims him "Tom," we 
 know already, so no further description is needed. 
 Captain Fenner, too, is well known, with his short, 
 though graceful figure, his good-humored, intelligent 
 face, irresistible imperial, and that roguish expres- 
 sion about that large mouth which displays such 
 handsome teeth, and seems to say, "Don't trust 
 me too far." 
 
 Little Captain C tells me a long story about 
 
 how Colonel Steadman had come to him and asked 
 if he believed it possible that Miss Morgan had put 
 her life and happiness in the hands of a homoeopathic 
 physician; how he considered her fate sealed; and 
 what a shame it was to trifle with such a sad affair, 
 at my age, too, ruined for life ! It was dreadful ! Too 
 sad! Hereupon, as continuing the story, he remarks 
 that being asked his opinion by the Colonel, he 
 agreed perfectly and thought with him it was an 
 appalling sacrifice, and oh, all sorts of things! Any- 
 thing, just to make me miserable and unhappy! 
 
 Well, what is written will come to pass. First 
 comes a doctor with a butchering apparatus who 
 cups and bleeds me unmercifully, says I '11 walk ten 
 days after, and exit. Enter another. Croton oil and 
 strychnine pills, that'll set me up in two weeks. And 
 exit. Enter a third. Sounds my bones and pinches 
 them from my head to my heels. Tells of the prob- 
 ability of a splinter of bone knocked off my left hip, 
 the possibility of paralysis in the leg, the certainty 
 
 3H 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 of a seriously injured spine, and the necessity for 
 the most violent counter-irritants. Follow blisters 
 which sicken even disinterested people to look at, 
 and a trifle of suffering which I come very near ac- 
 knowledging to myself. Enter the fourth. Inhuman 
 butchery ! wonder they did not kill you ! Take three 
 drops a day out of this tiny bottle, and presto! in 
 two weeks you are walking! A fifth, in the character 
 of a friend, says, "My dear young lady, if you do, 
 your case is hopeless." What wonder that I am 
 puzzled? A wiser head would be confused. I want 
 to believe all, but how is it possible? "What will be, 
 will be." 
 
 Bon I here comes a note from Mr. Halsey ! Ahga I 
 Lend him " Zaidee " ? Certainly ! Here is a postscript 
 three times the length of the note; voyons. Will Miss 
 Sarah make the annotations he requested, in "Kate 
 Coventry"? He is anxious to have the lady's opin- 
 ion on the questions of taste and propriety which so 
 frequently occur in the book. ... I'll not attempt 
 such a display; yet there are several passages I am 
 dying to mark. One in particular, speaking of the 
 peculiarities of men, of how they are always more at 
 ease when they have their hands employed, drawing 
 confidence and conversation from a paper-knife and 
 book to tumble, a pair of scissors and a thread to 
 snip, or even from imbibing the head of a cane, I am 
 anxious to call his attention to. If I dared add to 
 the list, "or a cord and tassel to play with"! This 
 
 3i5 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 nervous Mr. Halsey is wearing out my pretty blue 
 tassel that Frank admires so much; he says he can 
 talk better when he dangles it. Think the hint might 
 save it in the future! 
 
 Friday night, January 23d. 
 
 I am particularly happy to-day, for we have just 
 heard from Brother for the first time since last July. 
 And he is well, and happy, and wants us to come to 
 him in New Orleans so he can take care of us, and no 
 longer be so anxious for our safety. If we only could ! 
 — To be sure the letter is from a gentleman who is 
 just out of the city, who says he writes at Brother's 
 earnest request; still it is something to hear, even 
 indirectly. One hundred and fifty dollars he encloses 
 with the request that mother will draw for any 
 amount she wishes. Dear Brother, money is the 
 least thing we need ; first of all, we are dying for want 
 of a home. If we could only see ours once more! 
 
 During this time we have heard incidentally of 
 Brother ; of his having taken the oath of allegiance — 
 which I am confident he did not do until Butler's 
 October decree — of his being a prominent Union 
 man, of his being a candidate for the Federal Con- 
 gress, and of his withdrawal ; and finally of his hav- 
 ing gone to New York and Washington, from which 
 places he only returned a few weeks since. That is 
 all we ever heard. A very few people have been inso- 
 lent enough to say to me, "Your brother is as good 
 a Yankee as any." My blood boils as I answer, "Let 
 him be President Lincoln if he will, and I would 
 
 316 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 love him the same." And so I would. Politics can- 
 not come between me and my father's son. What he 
 thinks right, is right, for him, though not for me. If 
 he is for the Union, it is because he believes it to be 
 in the right, and I honor him for acting from convic- 
 tion, rather than from dread of public opinion. If he 
 were to take up the sword against us to-morrow, 
 Miriam and I, at least, would say, "If he thinks it 
 his duty, he is right; we will not forget he is our 
 father's child." And we will not. From that sad 
 day when the sun was setting for the first time on our 
 father's grave, when the great, strong man sobbed 
 in agony at the thought of what we had lost, and 
 taking us both on his lap put his arms around us and 
 said, "Dear little sisters, don't cry; I will be father 
 and brother, too, now," he has been both. He re- 
 spects our opinions, we shall respect his. I confess 
 myself a rebel, body and soul. Confess? I glory in it! 
 Am proud of being one; would not forego the title 
 for any other earthly one ! 
 
 Though none could regret the dismemberment of 
 our old Union more than I did at the time, though I 
 acknowledge that there never was a more unneces- 
 sary war than this in the beginning, yet once in 
 earnest, from the secession of Louisiana I date my 
 change of sentiment. I have never since then looked 
 back; forward, forward! is the cry; and as the 
 Federal States sink each day in more appalling folly 
 and disgrace, I grow prouder still of my own country 
 and rejoice that we can no longer be confounded 
 
 3i7 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 with a nation which shows so little fortitude in 
 calamity, so little magnanimity in its hour of tri- 
 umph. Yes! I am glad we are two distinct tribes! I 
 am proud of my country; only wish I could fight in 
 the ranks with our brave soldiers, to prove my en- 
 thusiasm; would think death, mutilation, glorious 
 in such a cause; cry, "War to all eternity before we 
 submit." But if I can't fight, being unfortunately a 
 woman, which I now regret for the first time in my 
 life, at least I can help in other ways. What fingers 
 can do'in knitting and sewing for them, I have done 
 with the most intense delight; what words of en- 
 couragement and praise could accomplish, I have 
 tried on more than one bold soldier boy, and not 
 altogether in vain; I have lost my home and all its 
 dear contents for our Southern Rights, have stood 
 on its deserted hearthstone and looked at the ruin of 
 all I loved — without a murmur, almost glad of the 
 sacrifice if it would contribute its mite towards the 
 salvation of the Confederacy. And so it did, indi- 
 rectly; for the battle of Baton Rouge which made 
 the Yankees, drunk with rage, commit outrages in 
 our homes that civilized Indians would blush to 
 perpetrate, forced them to abandon the town as 
 untenable, whereby we were enabled to fortify Port 
 Hudson here, which now defies their strength. True 
 they have reoccupied our town ; that Yankees live in 
 our house ; but if our generals said burn the whole 
 concern, would I not put the torch to our home 
 readily, though I love its bare skeleton still? In- 
 
 3i8 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 deed I would, though I know what it is to be with- 
 out one. Don't Lilly and mother live in a wretched 
 cabin in vile Clinton while strangers rest under our 
 father's roof? Yankees, I owe you one for that! 
 
 Well! I boast myself Rebel, sing "Dixie," shout 
 Southern Rights, pray for God's blessing on our 
 cause, without ceasing, and would not live in this 
 country if by any possible calamity we should be 
 conquered ; I am only a woman, and that is the way 
 I feel. Brother may differ. What then? Shall I re- 
 spect, love him less? No! God bless him! Union or 
 Secession, he is always my dear, dear Brother, and 
 tortures could not make me change my opinion. 
 
 Friday, January 30th. 
 
 A whole week has passed since I opened this book, 
 a week certainly not spent in idleness, if not a very 
 interesting one. For I have kept my room almost 
 all the time, leaving Miriam and Anna to entertain 
 their guests alone. Even when Mr. Halsey called on 
 Sunday, I declined going down. Why, I wonder? I 
 felt better than usual, was in a splendid humor for 
 talking, yet — my excuses took my place, and I lay 
 quietly in bed, dreaming by the firelight, and singing 
 hymns to myself. Once in a while the thought would 
 occur to me, "Why don't I go down?" But it was 
 always answered with a wry face, and the hymn 
 went on. Yet I knew he had come expecting to see me. 
 
 On the table near me stood a bunch of snowdrops 
 that Miriam had culled for her beloved Captain Brad- 
 
 319 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ford. An idea struck me so suddenly that my voice 
 died instantly. The spirit of mischief had taken pos- 
 session of me. Laughing to myself, I caught them up, 
 drew three long bright hairs from my head — they 
 looked right gold-y in the firelight — and tied them 
 around the flowers — I thought I should never get 
 to the end while wrapping them. Thus secured, a 
 servant carried them into the parlor with "Miss 
 Sarah's compliments to Mr. Halsey." Poor Miriam's 
 cry of surprise at finding her flowers thus appropri- 
 ated, reached my ears and caused me to laugh again. 
 It was rather cool! But then it was better fun than 
 going down. And then did n't it flatter his vanity! 
 
 men ! you vain creatures ! A woman would receive 
 a whole bunch of hair and forty thousand bouquets, 
 without having her head turned ; while you — Well ! 
 
 1 heard enough from Miriam to amuse me, at all 
 events. 
 
 And a day or two after, Captain Bradford had a 
 long story to tell her — what he called a good joke 
 on Mr. Halsey. Of how he had found him kissing 
 three long bright hairs in rapture, and on asking 
 where he got them, received as an answer — "From 
 the God-bless edest little angel that ever wore long 
 hair!" This blessedest little angel did not intend it 
 as a souvenir, and is consequently annoyed about 
 stories of three hairs, intended as a string and nothing 
 more, being wrapped in tissue paper and treasured 
 up — so goes the tale — instead of being thrown 
 into the fire as I certainly expected. 
 
 320 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Last night Anna and Miriam sat on my bed at 
 twilight, playing cards while I tried my guitar, when 
 
 Captain C , Major Spratley, and Lieutenant 
 
 Dupre were announced. Quick, down went the 
 cards as they sprang to their feet to throw off their 
 neat calicoes. Where was Miriam's comb, and grena- 
 dine, and collar, and belt? Good gracious! where 
 was her buckle? On the bureau, mantel, washstand, 
 or under them? "Please move a moment, Anna!" 
 In such a hurry, do! There was Anna, "Wait! I'm 
 in a hurry, too! Where is that pomatum? You Mal- 
 vina! if you don't help me, I '11 — There! take that, 
 Miss! Now fly around!" Malvina, with a faint, 
 dingy pink suddenly brought out on her pale sea- 
 green face, did fly around, while I, hushing my guitar 
 in the tumult, watch each running over the other, in 
 silent amazement, wondering if order can come out 
 of such confusion, and if the people downstairs were 
 worth all that trouble. 
 
 When I finally made my appearance in the parlor, 
 it was with the conviction that I would have a dread- 
 fully stupid time, and Captain C too. However, 
 
 though at first I had both, soon only the last was 
 left me. Some one suggested calling the Spirits, 
 which game I had imagined "played out" long ago; 
 and we derived a great deal of amusement from it. 
 Six of us around a small table invoked them with 
 the usual ceremony. There was certainly no trick 
 played; every finger was above the board, and all 
 
 321 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 feet sufficiently far from the single leg to insure fair 
 play. Every rap seemed to come exactly from the 
 centre of the table, and was painfully distinct 
 though not loud. When asked if there was a writing 
 
 medium present, it indicated Captain C . I 
 
 observed that he seemed averse to trying it, but 
 yielded at length and took the pencil in his hand. 
 
 Our first question, of course, was, How long before 
 Peace? Nine months was written. Which foreign 
 nation would recognize us first? France, then Eng- 
 land, in eight months. Who was Miriam to marry? 
 Captain of a battery. "Who?" we all shouted. 
 11 Captain C. E. Fenner " * was written again. When? 
 
 In ten months. I believe Captain C to be 
 
 honest about it. He seemed to have no control over 
 his hand, and his arm trembled until it became 
 exceedingly painful. Of course, I do not actually 
 believe in Spiritualism; but there is certainly some- 
 thing in it one cannot understand; and Mrs. Bad- 
 ger's experience is enough to convert one, alone. 
 Each was startled in turn by extraordinary reve- 
 lations concerning themselves. Gibbes was to be 
 transferred to the Trans- Mississippi Department, 2 
 George would come home, and all the gentlemen had 
 the name and address of future sweethearts written 
 in full. The question was asked, "Who will Sarah 
 Morgan fall in love with?" Every eye was on the 
 
 1 Note by Mrs. Dawson in 1896: wrong — she married Lieuten- 
 ant Dupre. 
 
 2 Note by Mrs. Dawson: he was transferred in his coffin. 
 
 322 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 pencil as a capital "H" was traced. As the "a" fol- 
 lowed, I confess to a decided disgust at the Spirits, 
 and was about to beg it might be discontinued when 
 the rest followed rapidly until in three separate lines 
 appeared, "Has not seen him yet" (here came an 
 exclamation of surprise from Lydia and Miriam, 
 who knew how true it was, and even Gibbes looked 
 astonished). " Captain, in Virginia. Captain Charles 
 Lewis." * A perfect buzz of comments followed; 
 every one asked every one else if they knew any one 
 by that name, and every one said no. Gibbes was 
 decidedly more interested than I. That odd "Has 
 not seen him yet," expressing so exactly the fact that 
 I pride myself upon, carried conviction in the truth 
 of Spirits, almost. "Who will she marry?" asked 
 Gibbes. (He has a pet belief, in which I encourage 
 him, that I will never marry.) Again came the name 
 as distinctly as before, of Captain Charles Lewis. 
 "When will she marry him?" " In June, 1864," was 
 the answer. I was to meet him in New Orleans. 
 November followed, after a period. 
 
 Of course, the Spirits produced some slight com- 
 motion which made the time pass pleasantly until 
 Miriam began to waltz with her Monsieur Deux 
 
 Temps. Then Captain C told me why he had 
 
 been unwilling to try it; of how his father believed 
 so strongly in it that he had very nearly been made 
 
 1 Captain F. W. Dawson, whom Sarah Morgan eventually mar- 
 ried, was at that time a captain in Virginia, and she had not yet seen 
 him. 
 
 323 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 crazy by it, and how he had sworn to abandon the 
 practice of consulting them, seeing the effect pro- 
 duced. He did not believe in Spirits himself; but 
 could not account for the influence he was under, 
 when he saw his hand involuntarily write things he 
 was totally unconscious of, himself. However, he 
 proposed that we two should have a private con- 
 sultation with them, which I opened by asking when 
 I should again see my home. I know he did not know 
 anything about it; but on the paper appeared — 
 "Five months have gone — five months more." It 
 is just five months since I did see home. I think it 
 was the 26th of August that Charlie took me there. 
 He asked if he should ever marry. "Never. You 
 will be jilted by the lady you love in Missouri, Miss 
 Christina P ." I pointed it out to him, as he hap- 
 pened to be looking at me when it was written. It 
 surprised him into saying, "Why, I'm engaged to 
 her!" I asked whose spirit was communicating 
 with us. He was watching the dance when his hand 
 
 wrote, "John C ." I laughed and asked if there 
 
 was such a person, pointing to the name. He looked 
 actually sick as he said, "Yes, my brother; he is 
 dead." I had not the heart to talk of Spirits again; 
 so we took to writing poetry together, every alter- 
 nate line falling to my lot. It made an odd jingle, the 
 sentimental first line being turned to broad farce by 
 my absurd second one. 
 
 324 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 February 5th, Thursday night. 
 A letter from Lavinia has come to me all the way 
 from California. How happy it made me, though 
 written so long ago ! Only the 30th of June ! Lavinia 
 has changed, changed. There is a sad, worn-out 
 tone in every line; it sounds old, as though she had 
 lived years and years ago and was writing as though 
 she were dead and buried long since. Lavinia, whose 
 letters used to keep me in sunshine for weeks at a 
 time! Well! no wonder she is sad. All these dreary 
 years from home, with so faint a hope of ever again 
 seeing it, and all these sorrows and troubles that 
 have befallen us, combined, are not calculated to 
 make her happy. But I wish she had kept her cheer- 
 ful heart. Well, perhaps it is easier for us to be 
 cheerful and happy, knowing the full extent of our 
 calamities, than it is for her, knowing so little and 
 having just cause to fear so much. Courage! Better 
 days are coming! And then I '11 have many a funny 
 tale to tell her of the days when the Yankees kept us 
 on the qui vive, or made us run for our lives. It will 
 " tell" merrily; be almost as lively as those running 
 days were. One of my chief regrets over my helpless- 
 ness is that I will not be able to run in the next stam- 
 pede. I used to enjoy it. Oh, the days gone by, the 
 dreary days, when, cut off from our own people, and 
 surrounded by Yankees, we used to catch up any 
 crumb of news favorable to our side that was 
 smuggled into town, and the Brunots and I would 
 write each other little dispatches of consolation 
 
 325 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and send them by little negroes ! Those were dismal 
 days. Yet how my spirits would rise when the long 
 roll would beat, and we would prepare for flight! 
 
 Monday, February 9th, 1863. Night. 
 
 A letter from my dear little Jimmy ! How glad I 
 am, words could not express. This is the first since 
 he arrived in England, and now we know what 
 has become of him at last. While awaiting the 
 completion of the ironclad gunboat to which he 
 has been appointed, like a trump he has put him- 
 self to school, and studies hard, which is evident 
 from the great improvement he already exhibits in 
 his letter. . . . 
 
 My delight at hearing from Jimmy is overcast by 
 the bad news Lilly sends of mother's health. I have 
 been unhappy about her for a long while ; her health 
 has been wretched for three months; so bad, that 
 during all my long illness she has never been with 
 me after the third day. I was never separated from 
 mother for so long before; and I am homesick, and 
 heartsick about her. Only twenty miles apart, and 
 she with a shocking bone felon in her hand and that 
 dreadful cough, unable to come to me, whilst I am 
 lying helpless here, as unable to get to her. I feel 
 right desperate about it. This evening Lilly writes 
 of her having chills and fevers, and looking very, very 
 badly. So Miriam started off instantly to see her. 
 My poor mother! She will die if she stays in Clinton, 
 I know she will ! 
 
 326 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Wednesday, February 18th. 
 Gibbes has gone back to his regiment. I can't say 
 how dreary I felt when he came to tell me good-bye. 
 I did not mean to cry ; but how could I help it when 
 he put his arms around me? . . . 
 
 Sunday, February 22d, 1863. 
 
 Mother has come to me ! O how glad I was to see 
 her this morning! And the Georgia project, which I 
 dared not speak of for fear it should be mere talk and 
 nothing more, is a reality. — Yes! we are actually 
 going! I can hardly believe that such good fortune 
 as getting out of that wretched Clinton really awaits 
 us. Perhaps I shall not like Augusta either; a stran- 
 ger in a strange city is not usually enchanted with 
 everything one beholds; but still — a change of 
 scene — a new country — new people — it is worth 
 while! Shall we really go? Will some page in this 
 book actually record "Augusta, Georgia"? No! I 
 dare not believe it ! Yet the mere thought has given 
 me strength within the last two weeks to attempt 
 to walk. Learning to walk at my age ! Is it not amus- 
 ing? But the smallest baby knows more about it 
 than I did at first. Of course, I knew one foot was to 
 be put before the other; but the question was how it 
 was to be done when they would not go? I have con- 
 quered that difficulty, however, and can now walk 
 almost two yards, if some one holds me fast. 
 
 Sunset. Will [Pinckney] has this instant left. 
 Ever since dinner he has been vehemently opposing 
 
 327 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 the Georgia move, insisting that it will cost me my 
 life, by rendering me a confirmed cripple. He says he 
 could take care of me, but no one else can, so I must 
 not be moved. I am afraid his arguments have 
 about shaken mother's resolution. Pshaw ! it will do 
 me good! I must go. It will not do to remain here. 
 Twenty-seven thousand Yankees are preparing to 
 march on Port Hudson, and this place will certainly 
 be either occupied by them, or burned. To go to 
 Clinton is to throw myself in their hands, so why not 
 one grand move to Augusta? 
 
 Monday, February 23d. 
 
 Here goes! News has been received that the 
 Yankees are already packed, ready to march against 
 us at any hour. If I was up and well, how my heart 
 would swell with exultation. As it is, it throbs so 
 with excitement that I can scarcely lie still. Hope 
 amounts almost to presumption at Port Hudson. 
 They are confident that our fifteen thousand can 
 repulse twice the number. Great God ! — I say it 
 with all reverence — if we could defeat them ! // we 
 could scatter, capture, annihilate them! My heart 
 beats but one prayer — Victory ! I shall grow wild 
 repeating it. In the mean time, though, Linwood is 
 in danger. This dear place, my second home; its 
 loved inhabitants ; think of their being in such peril ! 
 Oh, I shall cry heartily if harm comes to them! But 
 I must leave before. No use of leaving my bones for 
 the Yankees to pick ; better sing " Dixie " in Georgia. 
 
 328 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 To-morrow, consequently, I go to that earthly para- 
 dise, Clinton, thence to be re-shipped (so goes the 
 present programme) to Augusta in three days. And 
 no time for adieux! Wonder who will be surprised, 
 who vexed, and who will cry over the unforeseen 
 separation? Not a single "good-bye"! Nothing — 
 except an old brass button that Mr. Halsey gave me 
 as a souvenir in case he should be killed in the com- 
 ing assault. It is too bad. Ah! Destiny! Destiny! 
 Where do you take us? During these two trying 
 years, I have learned to feel myself a mere puppet 
 in the hands of a Something that takes me here 
 to-day, to-morrow there, always unexpectedly, and 
 generally very unwillingly, but at last leads me 
 somewhere or other, right side up with care, after 
 a thousand troubles and distresses. The hand of 
 Destiny is on me now; where will it lead me? 
 
 Tuesday [February] 24th. 
 
 Meeting Miriam by mere accident on the road 
 last evening and hearing of our surprising journey to 
 Georgia, Mr. Halsey came to spend a last evening 
 with us, and say good-bye. What a deluge of regrets, 
 hopes, fears, etc. Perfectly overwhelming. Why had 
 I not told him of it the night before? All our friends 
 would be so disappointed at not having an opportu- 
 nity of saying good-bye. If the Yankees would only 
 postpone their attack so he might accompany us! 
 But no matter; he would come on in two months, 
 and meet us there. And would we not write to him? 
 
 329 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Thank you! Miriam may, but I shall hardly do so! 
 We had such a pleasant evening together, talking 
 over our trip. Then we had a dozen songs on the 
 guitar, gay, sad, and sentimental; then he gave me a 
 sprig of jessamine as a keepsake, and I ripped open 
 my celebrated "running-bag" to get a real for true 
 silver five cents — a perfect curiosity in these days 
 — which I gave him in exchange, and which he 
 promised to wear on his watch-chain. He and Miriam 
 amused themselves examining the contents of my 
 sack and laughing at my treasures, the wretches! 
 Then came — good-bye. I think he was sorry to see 
 us go. Well! he ought to miss us! Ah! these fare- 
 wells! To-day I bid adieu to Linwood. "It may be 
 for years, and it may be forever!" This good-bye 
 will cost me a sigh. 
 
 Wednesday, February 25th. 
 
 Here we are still, in spite of our expectations. 
 Difficulty on difficulty arose, and an hour before the 
 cars came, it was settled that mother should go to 
 Clinton and make the necessary arrangements, and 
 leave us to follow in a day or two. Two days more! 
 Miriam no more objected than I did, so mother went 
 alone. Poor Miriam went to bed soon after, very ill. 
 So ill that she lay groaning in bed at dusk, when a 
 stir was heard in the hall below, and Colonel Stead- 
 man, Major Spratley, and Mr. Dupre were an- 
 nounced. Presto ! up she sprang, and flew about in 
 the most frantic style, emptying the trunk on the 
 floor to get her prettiest dress, and acting as though 
 
 330 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 she had never heard of pains and groans. When we 
 leave, how much I shall miss the fun of seeing her 
 and Anna running over each other in their excite- 
 ment of dressing for their favorites. Anna's first 
 exclamation was, "Ain't you glad you did n't go!" 
 and certainly we were not sorry, from mere compas- 
 sion; for what would she have done with all three? 
 If I laughed at their extra touches to their dresses, 
 it did not prevent me from bestowing unusual atten- 
 tion on my own. And by way of bravado, when I 
 was carried down, I insisted on Mrs. Badger lending 
 me her arm, to let me walk into the parlor and prove 
 to Colonel Steadman that in spite of his prophecies 
 I was able to take a few steps at least. 
 
 His last words, "You won't go, will you? Think 
 once more!" sent me upstairs wondering, thinking, 
 undecided, and unsatisfied, hardly knowing what to 
 do, or what to say. Every time I tried to sleep, 
 those calm, deep, honest gray eyes started up before 
 my closed ones, and that earnest " You won't go, will 
 you? Think once more!" rang in my ears like a sol- 
 emn warning. Hopes of seeing Georgia grew rather 
 faint, that night. Is it lawful to risk my life? But 
 is it not better to lose it while believing that I have 
 still a chance of saving it by going, than to await cer- 
 tain death calmly and unresisting in Clinton? I'd 
 rather die struggling for this life, this beautiful, 
 loved, blessed life that God has given me! 
 
 331 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 March ioth, Tuesday. 
 
 I had so many nice things to say — which now, 
 alas, are knocked forever from my head — when 
 news came that the Yankees were advancing on us, 
 and were already within fifteen miles. The panic 
 which followed reminded me forcibly of our running 
 days in Baton Rouge. Each one rapidly threw into 
 trunks all clothing worth saving, with silver and 
 valuables, to send to the upper plantation. I sprang 
 up, determined to leave instantly for Clinton so 
 mother would not be alarmed for our safety; but 
 before I got halfway dressed, Helen Carter came in, 
 and insisted on my remaining, declaring that my 
 sickness and inability to move would prove a pro- 
 tection to the house, and save it from being burned 
 over their heads. Put on that plea, though I have no 
 faith in melting the bowels of compassion of a Yan- 
 kee, myself, I consented to remain, as Miriam ur- 
 gently represented the dangers awaiting Clinton. 
 So she tossed all we owned into our trunk to send to 
 mother as hostage of our return, and it is now await- 
 ing the cars. My earthly possessions are all reposing 
 by me on the bed at this instant, consisting of my 
 guitar, a change of clothes, running-bag, cabas, and 
 this book. For in spite of their entreaties, I would 
 not send it to Clinton, expecting those already there 
 to meet with a fiery death — though I would like 
 to preserve those of the most exciting year of my 
 life. They tell me that this will be read aloud to me 
 
 332 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to torment me, but I am determined to burn it if 
 there is any danger of that. Why, I would die with- 
 out some means of expressing my feelings in the 
 stirring hours so rapidly approaching. I shall keep 
 it by me. 
 
 Such bustle and confusion! Every one hurried, 
 anxious, excited, whispering, packing trunks, send- 
 ing them off; wondering negroes looking on in 
 amazement until ordered to mount the carts waiting 
 at the door, which are to carry them too away. How 
 disappointed the Yankees will be at finding only 
 white girls instead of their dear sisters and brothers 
 whom they love so tenderly! Sorry for their dis- 
 appointment ! 
 
 "They say" they are advancing in overwhelming 
 numbers. That is nothing, so long as God helps us, 
 and from our very souls we pray His blessing on us in 
 this our hour of need. For myself, I cannot yet fully 
 believe they are coming. It would be a relief to have 
 it over. I have taken the responsibility of Lydia's 
 jewelry on my shoulders, and hope to be able to 
 save it in the rush which will take place. Down at 
 the cars Miriam met Frank Enders, going to Clinton 
 in charge of a car full of Yankees, — deserters, who 
 came into our lines. He thinks, just as I do, that our 
 trunks are safer here than there. Now that they are 
 all off, we all agree that it was the most foolish thing 
 we could have done. These Yankees interfere with 
 all our arrangements. 
 
 I am almost ashamed to confess what an absurdly 
 333 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 selfish thought occurred to me a while ago. I was 
 lamenting to myself all the troubles that surround 
 us, the dangers and difficulties that perplex us, think- 
 ing of the probable fate that might befall some of our 
 brave friends and defenders in Port Hudson, when 
 I thought, too, of the fun we would miss. Horrid, 
 was it not? But worse than that, I was longing for 
 something to read, when I remembered Frank told 
 me he had sent to Alexandria for Bulwer's "Strange 
 Story" for me, and then I unconsciously said, "How 
 I wish it would get here before the Yankees!" I am 
 very anxious to read it, but confess I am ashamed of 
 having thought of it at such a crisis. So I toss up the 
 farthing Frank gave me for a keepsake the other day, 
 and say I '11 try in future to think less of my own 
 comfort and pleasure. 
 
 Poor Mr. Halsey! What a sad fate the pets he 
 procures for me meet! He stopped here just now on 
 his way somewhere, and sent me a curious bundle 
 with a strange story, by Miriam. It seems he got a 
 little flying-squirrel for me to play with (must know 
 my partiality for pets), and last night, while attempt- 
 ing to tame him, the little creature bit his finger, 
 whereupon he naturally let him fall on the ground, 
 (Temper!) which put a period to his existence. He 
 had the nerve to skin him after the foul murder, and 
 sent all that remains of him out to me to prove his 
 original intention. The softest, longest, prettiest 
 fur, and such a duck of a tail! Poor little animal 
 could n't have been larger than my fist. Wonder if 
 
 334 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 its spirit will meet with that of the little bird which 
 
 flew heavenward with all that pink ribbon and my 
 
 letter from Mr. Halsey? 
 
 Saturday, March 14th. 
 5 o'clock, P.M. 
 
 They are coming! The Yankees are coming at 
 last ! For four or five hours the sound of their cannon 
 has assailed our ears. There ! — that one shook my 
 bed ! Oh, they are coming! God grant us the victory ! 
 They are now within four miles of us, on the big 
 road to Baton Rouge. On the road from town to 
 Clinton, we have been fighting since daylight at 
 Readbridge, and have been repulsed. Fifteen gun- 
 boats have passed Vicksburg, they say. It will be an 
 awful fight. No matter! With God's help we'll con- 
 quer yet ! Again ! — the report comes nearer. Oh, 
 they are coming! Coming to defeat, I pray God. 
 
 Only we seven women remain in the house. The 
 General left this morning, to our unspeakable relief. 
 They would hang him, we fear, if they should find 
 him here. Mass' Gene has gone to his company; we 
 are left alone here to meet them. If they will burn 
 the house, they will have to burn me in it. For I 
 cannot walk, and I know they shall not carry me. 
 I 'm resigned. If I should burn, I have friends and 
 brothers enough to avenge me. Create such a con- 
 sternation ! Better than being thrown from a buggy 
 — only I 'd not survive to hear of it ! 
 
 Letter from Lilly to-day has distressed me beyond 
 measure. Starvation which threatened them seems 
 
 335. 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 actually at their door. With more money than they 
 could use in ordinary times, they can find nothing to 
 purchase. Not a scrap of meat in the house for a 
 week. No pork, no potatoes, fresh meat obtained 
 once as a favor, and poultry and flour articles un- 
 heard of. Besides that, Tiche crippled, and Mar- 
 gret very ill, while Liddy has run off to the Yan- 
 kees. Heaven only knows what will become of them. 
 The other day we were getting ready to go to them 
 (Thursday) when the General disapproved of my 
 
 running such a risk, saying he 'd call it a d piece 
 
 of nonsense, if I asked what he thought; so we re- 
 mained. They will certainly starve soon enough 
 without our help ; and yet — I feel we should all be 
 together still. That last superfluous word is the re- 
 frain of Gibbes's song that is ringing in my ears, and 
 that I am chanting in a kind of ecstasy of excite- 
 ment : — 
 
 "Then let the cannon boom as it will, 
 We'll be gay and happy still!" 
 
 And we will be happy in spite of Yankee guns! 
 Only — my dear This, That, and the Other, at 
 Port Hudson, how I pray for your safety! God 
 spare our brave soldiers, and lead them to victory! 
 I write, touch my guitar, talk, pick lint, and pray so 
 rapidly that it is hard to say which is my occupation. 
 I sent Frank some lint the other day, and a bundle of 
 it for Mr. Halsey is by me. Hope neither will need 
 it ! But to my work again ! 
 
 336 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Half-past One o'clock, A.M. 
 
 It has come at last! What an awful sound! I 
 thought I had heard a bombardment before; but 
 Baton Rouge was child's play compared to this. At 
 half-past eleven came the first gun — at least the 
 first / heard, and I hardly think it could have com- 
 menced many moments before. Instantly I had my 
 hand on Miriam, and at my first exclamation, Mrs. 
 Badger and Anna answered. All three sprang to 
 their feet to dress, while all four of us prayed aloud. 
 Such an incessant roar! And at every report the 
 house shaking so, and we thinking of our dear sol- 
 diers, the dead and dying, and crying aloud for 
 God's blessing on them, and defeat and overthrow to 
 their enemies. That dreadful roar! I can't think 
 fast enough. They are too quick to be counted. We 
 have all been in Mrs. Carter's room, from the last 
 window of which we can see the incessant flash of the 
 guns and the great shooting stars of flame, which 
 must be the hot shot of the enemy. There is a burn- 
 ing house in the distance, the second one we have seen 
 to-night. For Yankees can't prosper unless they are 
 pillaging honest people. Already they have stripped 
 all on their road of cattle, mules, and negroes. 
 
 Gathered in a knot within and without the win- 
 dow, we six women up here watched in the faint 
 starlight the flashes from the guns, and silently won- 
 dered which of our friends were lying stiff and dead, 
 and then, shuddering at the thought, betook our- 
 selves to silent prayer. I think we know what it is to 
 
 337 
 
A ^Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 "wrestle with God in prayer"; we had but one 
 thought. Yet for women, we took it almost too 
 coolly. No tears, no cries, no fear, though for the 
 first five minutes everybody's teeth chattered vio- 
 lently. Mrs. Carter had her husband in Fenner's 
 battery, the hottest place if they are attacked by 
 the land force, and yet to my unspeakable relief she 
 betrayed no more emotion than we who had only 
 friends there. We know absolutely nothing; when 
 does one ever know anything in the country? But 
 we presume that this is an engagement between 
 our batteries and the gunboats attempting to 
 run the blockade. 
 
 Firing has slackened considerably. All are to lie 
 down already dressed; but being in my nightgown 
 from necessity, I shall go to sleep, though we may 
 expect at any instant to hear the tramp of Yankee 
 
 cavalry in the yard. 
 
 Sunday, March 15th. 
 
 To my unspeakable surprise, I waked up this 
 morning and found myself alive. Once satisfied of 
 that, and assuring myself of intense silence in the 
 place of the great guns which rocked me to sleep 
 about half-past two this morning, I began to doubt 
 that I had heard any disturbance in the night, and 
 to believe I had written a dream within a dream, 
 and that no bombardment had occurred; but all 
 corroborate my statement, so it must be true, and 
 this portentous silence is only the calm before the 
 storm. I am half afraid the land force won't attack. 
 
 338 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 We can beat them if they do; but suppose they lay 
 siege to Port Hudson and starve us out? That is the 
 only way they can conquer. 
 
 We hear nothing still that is reliable. 
 
 Just before daylight there was a terrific explo- 
 sion which electrified every one save myself. I was 
 sleeping so soundly that I did not hear anything of 
 it, though Mrs. Badger says that when she sprang 
 up and called me, I talked very rationally about it, 
 and asked what it could possibly be. Thought that I 
 had ceased talking in my sleep. Miriam was quite 
 eloquent in her dreams before the attack, crying 
 aloud, "See! See! What do I behold?" as though she 
 were witnessing a rehearsal of the scene to follow. 
 
 Later. Dr. Kennedy has just passed through, and 
 was within the fortifications last night; brings news 
 which is perhaps reliable, as it was obtained from 
 Gardiner. It was, as we presumed, the batteries and 
 gunboats. One we sunk ; another, the Mississippi, we 
 disabled so that the Yankees had to abandon and 
 set fire to her, thirty-nine prisoners falling into our 
 hands. It was her magazine that exploded this 
 morning. Two other boats succeeded in passing, 
 though badly crippled. Our batteries fired gallantly. 
 Hurrah! for Colonel Steadman! I know his was by 
 no means the least efficient ! 
 
 Clinton, they say, will inevitably be sacked. Alas, 
 for mother and Lilly ! What can we do? The whole 
 country is at the mercy of the Yankees as long as 
 Gardiner keeps within the fortifications. Six miles 
 
 339 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 below here they entered Mr. Newport's, pulled the 
 pillow-cases from the beds, stuffed them with his 
 clothes, and helped themselves generally. What can 
 we expect here? To tell the truth, I should be disap- 
 pointed if they did not even look in at us, on their 
 marauding expedition. 
 
 March 17th. 
 
 On dit the Yankees have gone back to Baton 
 Rouge, hearing we had sixty thousand men coming 
 down after them. I] believe I am positively disap- 
 pointed! I did want to see them soundly thrashed! 
 The light we thought was another burning house 
 was that of the Mississippi. They say the shrieks of 
 the men when our hot shells fell among them, and 
 after they were left by their companions to burn, 
 were perfectly appalling. 
 
 Another letter from Lilly has distressed me beyond 
 measure. She says the one chicken and two dozen 
 eggs Miriam and I succeeded in buying from the 
 negroes by prayers and entreaties, saved them from 
 actual hunger ; and for two days they had been living 
 on one egg apiece and some cornbread and syrup. 
 Great heavens! has it come to this? Nothing to be 
 bought in that abominable place for love or money. 
 Where the next meal comes from, nobody knows. 
 
 Wednesday, March 25th. 
 
 Early last evening the tremendous clatter of a 
 sword that made such unnecessary noise that one 
 might imagine the owner thereof had betaken him- 
 
 340 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 self to the favorite pastime of his childhood, and 
 was prancing in on his murderous weapon, having 
 mistaken it for his war steed, announced the arrival 
 of Captain Bradford, who with two friends came to 
 say adieu. Those vile Yankees have been threaten- 
 ing Ponchatoula, and his battery, with a regiment of 
 infantry, was on its way there to drive them back. 
 The Captain sent me word of the distressing de- 
 parture, with many assurances that he would take 
 care of "my" John. 
 
 Scarcely had he departed, when lo! John arrives, 
 and speaks for himself. Yes! he is going! Only a 
 moment to say good-bye . . . sunset approaches. 
 Well ! he must say good-bye now ! Chorus of young 
 ladies: "Oh, will you not spend the evening with us? 
 You can easily overtake the battery later." Chorus 
 of married ladies: "You must not think of going. 
 Here is a comfortable room at your service, and 
 after an early breakfast you can be on the road as 
 soon as the others." No necessity for prayers; he 
 readily consents. And yet, as the evening wore on, 
 when we laughed loudest I could not help but think 
 of poor little Mrs. McPhaul sitting alone and cry- 
 ing over her brother's departure, fancying his pre- 
 cious bones lying on the damp ground with only the 
 soldier's roof — the blue vault of heaven — above, 
 while two miles away he sat in a comfortable parlor 
 amusing himself. 
 
 About sunrise, while the most delightful dreams 
 floated through my brain, a little voice roused me 
 ~ 34i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 exclaiming, "Sady! Sady! John Hawsey say so! 
 Say give Sady!" I opened my eyes to see little 
 Gibbes standing by me, trying to lay some flowers 
 on my cheek, his little face sparkling with delight at 
 his own importance. A half-opened rosebud with the 
 faintest blush of pink on its creamy leaves — a 
 pink, and a piece of arbor vitae, all sprinkled with 
 dew, this was my bouquet. The servant explained 
 that Mr. Halsey had just left, and sent me that with 
 his last good-bye. And he has gone! "And now 
 there's nothing left but weeping! His face I ne'er 
 shall see, and naught is left to me, save" — putting 
 away my book and all recollections of nonsense. So 
 here goes ! 
 
 Tuesday, March 31st. 
 
 "To be, or not to be; that's the question." 
 Whether 't is nobler in the Confederacy to suffer the 
 pangs of unappeasable hunger and never-ending 
 trouble, or to take passage to a Yankee port, and 
 there remaining, end them. Which is best? I am so 
 near daft that I cannot pretend to say ; I only know 
 that I shudder at the thought of going to New Or- 
 leans, and that my heart fails me when I think of the 
 probable consequence to mother if I allow a mere 
 outward sign of patriotism to overbalance what 
 should be my first consideration — her health. For 
 Clinton is growing no better rapidly. To be hungry 
 is there an everyday occurrence. For ten days, 
 mother writes, they have lived off just hominy 
 
 342 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 enough to keep their bodies and souls from parting, 
 without being able to procure another article — not 
 even a potato. Mother is not in a condition to stand 
 such privation ; day by day she grows weaker on her 
 new regimen ; I am satisfied that two months more of 
 danger, difficulties, perplexities, and starvation will 
 lay her in her grave. The latter alone is enough to 
 put a speedy end to her days. Lilly has been obliged 
 to put her children to bed to make them forget they 
 were supperless, and when she followed their exam- 
 ple, could not sleep herself, for very hunger. 
 
 We have tried in vain to find another home in the 
 Confederacy. After three days spent in searching 
 Augusta, Gibbes wrote that it was impossible to find 
 a vacant room for us, as the city was already crowded 
 with refugees. A kind Providence must have des- 
 tined that disappointment in order to save my life, 
 if there is any reason for Colonel Steadman's fears. 
 We next wrote to Mobile, Brandon, and even that 
 horrid little Liberty, besides making inquiries of 
 every one we met, while Charlie, too, was endeavor- 
 ing to find a place, and everywhere received the 
 same answer — not a vacant room, and provisions 
 hardly to be obtained at all. 
 
 The question has now resolved itself to whether 
 we shall see mother die for want of food in Clinton, 
 or, by sacrificing an outward show of patriotism (the 
 inward sentiment cannot be changed), go with her to 
 New Orleans, as Brother begs in the few letters 
 he contrives to smuggle through. It looks simple 
 
 343 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 enough. Ought not mother's life to be our first con- 
 sideration? Undoubtedly! But suppose we could 
 preserve her life and our free sentiments at the same 
 time? If we could only find a resting-place in the 
 Confederacy ! This, though, is impossible. But to go 
 to New Orleans; to cease singing "Dixie"; to be 
 obliged to keep your sentiments to yourself — for I 
 would not wound Brother by any Ultra- Secession 
 speech, and such could do me no good and only 
 injure him — if he is as friendly with the Federals 
 as they say he is; to listen to the scurrilous abuse 
 heaped on those fighting for our homes and liberties, 
 among them my three brothers — could I endure it? 
 I fear not. Even if I did not go crazy, I would grow 
 so restless, homesick, and miserable, that I would 
 pray for even Clinton again. Oh, I don't, don't want 
 to go ! If mother would only go alone, and leave us 
 with Lilly! But she is as anxious to obtain Dr. 
 Stone's advice for me as we are to secure her a com- 
 fortable home; and I won't go anywhere without 
 Miriam, so we must all go together. Yet there is no 
 disguising the fact that such a move will place us 
 in a very doubtful position to both friends and ene- 
 mies. However, all our friends here warmly advo- 
 cate the move, and Will Pinckney and Frank both 
 promised to knock down any one who shrugged 
 their shoulders and said anything about it. But 
 what would the boys say? The fear of displeasing 
 them is my chief distress. George writes in the 
 greatest distress about my prolonged illness, and his 
 
 344 
 
A^CONFEDERATE GlRL'S DlARY 
 
 alarm about my condition. "Of one thing I am sure," 
 he writes, "and that is that she deserves to recover; 
 for a better little sister never lived." God bless him! 
 My eyes grew right moist over those few words. 
 Loving words bring tears to them sooner than angry 
 ones. Would he object to such a step when he knows 
 that the very medicines necessary for my recovery 
 are not to be procured in the whole country? Would 
 he rather have mother dead and me a cripple, in the 
 Confederacy, than both well, out of it? I feel that if 
 we go we are wrong; but I am satisfied that it is 
 worse to stay. It is a distressing dilemma to be 
 placed in, as we are certain to be blamed whichever 
 course we pursue. But I don't want to go to New 
 Orleans ! 
 
 Before I had time to lay down my pen this eve- 
 ning, General Gardiner and Major Wilson were an- 
 nounced ; and I had to perform a hasty toilette before 
 being presentable. The first remark of the General 
 was that my face recalled many pleasant recollec- 
 tions; that he had known my family very well, but 
 that time was probably beyond my recollection ; and 
 he went on talking about father and Lavinia, until I 
 felt quite comfortable, with this utter stranger. . . . 
 I would prefer his speaking of "our" recent success 
 at Port Hudson to "my" ; for we each, man, woman, 
 and child, feel that we share the glory of sinking the 
 gunboats and sending Banks back to Baton Rouge 
 without venturing on an attack ; and it seemed odd 
 to hear any one assume the responsibility of the 
 
 345 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 whole affair and say "my success" so unconsciously. 
 But this may be the privilege of generals. I am no 
 judge, as this is the first Confederate general I have 
 had the pleasure of seeing. Wish it had been old 
 Stonewall! I grow enthusiastic every time I think 
 of the dear old fellow ! 
 
 I am indebted to General Gardiner for a great 
 piece of kindness, though. I was telling him of how 
 many enemies he had made among the ladies by his 
 strict regulations that now rendered it almost im- 
 possible for the gentlemen to obtain permission to 
 call on them, when he told me if I would signify to 
 my friends to mention when they applied that their 
 visit was to be here, and not elsewhere, that he 
 would answer for their having a pass whenever they 
 called for one. Merci du compliment; mats c'est 
 trop tard, Monsieur ! 
 
 Tuesday, April 7th. 
 
 I believe that it is for true that we are to leave for 
 New Orleans, via Clinton and Ponchatoula, this 
 evening. Clinton, at least, I am sure of. Lilly came 
 down for me yesterday, and according to the present 
 programme, though I will not answer for it in an 
 hour from now, we leave Linwood this evening, and 
 Clinton on Thursday. I am almost indifferent about 
 our destination; my chief anxiety is to have some 
 definite plans decided on, which seems perfectly 
 impossible from the number of times they are 
 changed a day. The uncertainty is really affecting 
 my spine, and causing me to grow alarmingly thin. . . . 
 
 346 
 
JUDGE THOMAS GIBBES MORGAN 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Wednesday, Clinton, April 8th, 1863. 
 
 Our last adieux are said, and Lin wood is left be- 
 hind, "it may be for years, and it may be forever." 
 My last hours were spent lying on the sofa on the 
 gallery, with Lydia at my feet, Helen Carter sitting 
 on the floor at my side, while all the rest were gath- 
 ered around me as I played for the last time "the 
 centre of attraction." I grew almost lachrymose as I 
 bid a last adieu to the bed where I have spent so 
 many months, as they carried me downstairs. 
 Wonder if it will not miss me? It must have been 
 at least five before the cars returned. Mrs. Carter 
 grew quite pathetic as they approached, while poor 
 little Lydia, with streaming eyes and choking sobs, 
 clung first to Miriam and then to me, as though we 
 parted to meet only in eternity. All except her 
 mother started in a run for the big gate, while I was 
 carried to the buggy through the group of servants 
 gathered to say good-bye, when the General drove 
 me off rapidly. 
 
 What a delightful sensation is motion, after five 
 months' inaction! The last time I was in a vehicle 
 was the night General Beale's ambulance brought 
 me to Linwood a helpless bundle, last November. 
 It seemed to me yesterday that I could again feel 
 the kind gentleman's arm supporting me, and his 
 wondering, sympathetic tone as he repeated every 
 half-mile, "Really, Miss Morgan, you are very pa- 
 tient and uncomplaining!" Good, kind President 
 Miller! As though all the trouble was not his, just 
 
 347 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 then! But stopping at the gate roused me from my 
 short reverie, and I opened my eyes to find myself 
 stationary, and in full view of a train of cars loaded 
 with soldiers, literally covered with them; for they 
 covered the roof, as well as filled the interior, while 
 half a dozen open cars held them, seated one above 
 the other in miniature pyramids, and even the en- 
 gine was graced by their presence. Abashed with 
 finding myself confronted with so many people, my 
 sensation became decidedly alarming as a dozen rude 
 voices cried, "Go on! we won't stop!" and a cho- 
 rus of the opposition cried, "Yes, we will ! " " No ! " 
 "Yes!" they cried in turn, and as the General stood 
 me on the ground (I would have walked if it had 
 been my last attempt in life), I paused irresolute, not 
 knowing whether to advance or retreat before the 
 storm. I must say they are the only rude soldiers 
 I have yet seen in Confederate uniforms. But as I 
 walked slowly, clinging to the General's arm, half 
 from fear, and half from weakness, they ceased the un- 
 necessary dispute, and remained so quiet that I was 
 more frightened still, and actually forgot to say good- 
 bye to Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Worley as they stood 
 by the road. How both the General and I escaped 
 being hurt as he raised me on the platform, every 
 one is at a loss to account for. I experienced only 
 what may be called slight pain, in comparison to 
 what I have felt; but really fear that the exertion has 
 disabled him for to-day. It must have been very se- 
 vere. Some officers led me to my seat, Lilly, Miriam, 
 
 348 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and Anna got in, the General kissed us heartily, 
 with damp eyes and kind wishes; the cars gave a 
 whistle, and I put my head out of the window to see 
 Mrs. Carter industriously applying white cambric to 
 her face, which occupation she relinquished to call 
 out last good-byes; another whistle and a jerk, and 
 we were off, leaving her and Mrs. Worley, sur- 
 rounded by children and servants, using their hand- 
 kerchiefs to wipe tears and wave farewell, while the 
 General waved his hat for good-bye. Then green 
 hedges rapidly changing took their place, and Lin- 
 wood was out of sight before we had ceased saying 
 and thinking, God bless the kind hearts we had left 
 behind. Can I ever forget the kindness we have met 
 among them? 
 
 To see green trees and wild flowers once more, 
 after such an illness, is a pleasure that only those 
 long deprived of such beauties by a similar misfor- 
 tune can fully appreciate. 
 
 It was a relief to discover that what I had thought 
 shocking rudeness in the soldiers had not been re- 
 served for me alone. For every time we stopped, the 
 same cry of "No waiting for slow people" was 
 raised, varied by constant expostulations with the 
 engine for drinking ponds dry, and mild suggestions 
 as to taking the road the other side of the fence, 
 which would no doubt prove smoother than the 
 track. These Arkansas troops have acquired a repu- 
 tation for roughness and ignorance which they seem 
 to cultivate as assiduously as most people would 
 
 349 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 their virtues. But rudeness does not affect their 
 fighting qualities. 
 
 Madisonville, Sunday, April 12th, 1863. 
 
 We arrived here about five last evening, and, 
 strange to say, the journey, fatiguing as it was, has 
 not altogether disabled me. But I must go back to 
 Clinton to account for this new change. It would 
 never do to take more than a hundred miles at a 
 single jump without speaking of the incidents by the 
 way. Numerous and pleasant as they were, some 
 way they have unaccountably paled; and things 
 that seemed so extremely amusing, and afforded me 
 so much pleasure during these four days, now seem 
 to be absurd trifles half forgotten. 
 
 I now remember lying in state on Lilly's bed 
 Wednesday, talking to Mrs. Badger (who had been 
 several days in town), Anna, Sarah Ripley, and the 
 others, when Frank suddenly bolted in, just from 
 Port Hudson, to say another good-bye, though I told 
 him good-bye at Linwood Sunday. Presently the 
 General entered, just from Linwood, to see us off; 
 then Mr. Marston and his daughter, and Mr. 
 Neafus, all as kind as possible, until a perfect levee 
 was assembled, which I, lying all dressed with a 
 shawl thrown over me, enjoyed all the more as I 
 could take my ease, and have my fun at the same 
 time. Frank, sitting by my pillow, talked dolorously 
 of how much he would miss us, and threatened to be 
 taken prisoner before long in order to see us again. 
 
 350 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 When we were finally left alone, I fancy there was 
 very little sleep in the house. As to me, I lay by Lilly 
 wide awake, thinking how lonely she would be with- 
 out us, and perfectly desolie at the idea of leaving the 
 Confederacy (the dear gray coats included) ; so when 
 it was almost sunrise there was no necessity of rous- 
 ing me to dress, as I was only too glad to leave my 
 sleepless bed. Before I got dressed, Anna, her mother, 
 and Sarah Ripley came in again; then Miss Corn- 
 stock; and just as I had put the last touch to my 
 dress, the gentlemen of the night before entered, and 
 we had almost an hour and a half's respite before 
 the carriage, less punctual than we, drove to the 
 door. 
 
 The General picked me up in his arms and carried 
 me once more to the carriage. Then the servants 
 had to say good-bye; then Lilly, very quiet, very 
 red, and dissolved in tears, clung to me almost with- 
 out a word, hardly able to speak, whilst I, distressed 
 and grieved as I was, had not a tear in my eyes — 
 nothing but a great lump in my throat that I tried 
 to choke down in order to talk to Frank, who stood 
 at the window by me, after she left. . . . How the 
 distance lengthens between us! I raise up from my 
 pillows and find myself at Camp Moore at four 
 o'clock. Forty miles are passed over; good-bye, 
 Frank ! 
 
 From Camp Moore we had to go three miles back, 
 to find Captain Gilman's house where we were ex- 
 
 35i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 pected. The gentleman is a friend of Gibbes, though 
 I had never seen any of them before. Such a delight- 
 ful place, with everything looking so new, and cool, 
 and such a hospitable hostess that I thought every- 
 thing charming in spite of my fatigue. < I*had hardly 
 a moment to look around ; for immediately we were 
 shown to our rooms, and in a very few minutes 
 Miriam had me undressed and in bed, the most 
 delightful spot in the world to me just then. While 
 congratulating myself on having escaped death on 
 the roadside, I opened my eyes to behold a tray 
 brought to my bedside with a variety of refresh- 
 ments. Coffee! Bread! Loaf-sugar! Preserves! I 
 opened my mouth to make an exclamation at the 
 singular optical illusion, but wisely forbore speaking, 
 and shut it with some of the unheard-of delicacies 
 instead. . . . 
 
 Early next morning the same routine was gone 
 through as Thursday morning. Again the carriage 
 drove to the door, and we were whisked off to Camp 
 Moore, where the engine stood snorting with impa- 
 tience to hurry us off to Ponchatoula. . . . Soon we 
 were steaming down the track, I reclining on my 
 pillows in an interesting state of invalidism, sadly 
 abashed now and then at the courteous, wondering 
 gaze of the soldiers who were aboard. Having very 
 little idea of the geography of that part of the coun- 
 try, and knowing we were to take a carriage from 
 some point this side of Ponchatoula, fancying how 
 surprised Mr. Halsey would be to hear we had 
 
 352 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary' 
 
 passed him on the way, I took a card from my travel- 
 ing-case, and wrote a few words for "good-bye," 
 as we could not see him again. I sealed it up, and 
 put it in my pocket to send to the first post-office we 
 passed. 
 
 About twelve o'clock we stopped at Hammond, 
 which was our place to disembark. Mother sent out 
 to hire a negro to carry me off the platform ; and while 
 waiting in great perplexity, a young officer who had 
 just seated himself before me, got up and asked if he 
 could assist her, seizing an arm full of cloaks as he 
 spoke. I got up and walked to the door to appear 
 independent and make believe I was not the one, 
 when mother begged him not to trouble himself; she 
 wanted a man to assist her daughter who was sick. 
 Calling a friend, the gentleman kindly loaded him 
 with the cloaks, etc., while he hurried out after me. 
 I was looking ruefully at the impracticable step 
 which separated me from the platform. The ques- 
 tion of how I was to carry out my independent no- 
 tions began to perplex me. "Allow me to assist you," 
 said a voice at my elbow. I turned and beheld the 
 handsome officer. "Thank you; I think I can get 
 down alone." "Pray allow me to lift you over this 
 place." "Much obliged, but your arm will suffice." 
 "Sarah, let the gentleman carry you ! You know you 
 cannot walk!" said my very improper mother. I 
 respectfully declined the renewed offer. " Don't pay 
 any attention to her. Pick her up, just as you would 
 a child," said my incorrigible mother. The gentle- 
 
 353 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 man turned very red, while Miriam asserts I turned 
 extremely white. The next thing I knew, by passing 
 his arm around my waist, or taking me by my arms 
 — I was so frightened that I have but a confused 
 idea of it — I was lifted over the intervening gulf 
 and landed on the platform! 
 
 Hammond boasts of four houses. One, a shoe 
 manufactory, stood about twenty or thirty yards off, 
 and there the gentleman proposed to conduct me. 
 Again he insisted on carrying me; and resolutely 
 refusing, I pronounced myself fully equal to the 
 walk, and accepting his proffered arm, walked off 
 with dignity and self-possession. He must have 
 fancied that the injury was in my hand; for holding 
 my arm so that my entire weight must have been 
 thrown on him, not satisfied with that support, with 
 his other hand he held mine so respectfully and so 
 carefully that I could not but smile as it struck 
 me, which, by the way, was not until I reached the 
 house ! 
 
 Discovering that he belonged to Colonel Simon- 
 ton's command, I asked him to take Mr. Halsey the 
 note I had written an hour before. He pronounced 
 himself delighted to be of the slightest service, and 
 seeing that we were strangers, traveling unpro- 
 tected, asked if we had secured a conveyance to 
 take us beyond. We told him no. He modestly sug- 
 gested that some gentleman might attend to it for 
 us. He would be happy to do anything in his power. 
 I thought again of Mr. Halsey, and said if he would 
 
 354 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 mention we were in Hammond, he would be kind 
 enough to see to it for us. " May I ask your name?" 
 he asked, evidently surprised to find himself asking a 
 question he was dying to know. I gave him my card, 
 whereupon mother asked his name, which he told 
 us was Howard. We had been talking for some ten 
 minutes, when feeling rather uncomfortable at being 
 obliged to look up at such a tall man from my low 
 seat, to relieve my neck as well as to shade my face 
 from any further scrutiny, I put down my head while 
 I was still speaking. Instantly, so quietly, naturally, 
 and unobtrusively did he stoop down by me, on one 
 knee so that his face was in full view of mine, that 
 the action did not seem to me either singular or im- 
 pertinent — in fact, I did not think of it until mother 
 spoke of it after he left. After a few moments it 
 must have struck him ; for he got up and made his 
 parting bow, departing, as I afterwards heard, to 
 question Tiche as to how I had been hurt, and de- 
 claring that it was a dreadful calamity to happen to 
 
 so "lovely " a young lady. 
 
 Monday, April 13th. 
 
 Having nothing to do, I may as well go on with the 
 history of our wanderings. When the cars were mov- 
 ing off with the handsome Mr. Howard, mother 
 turned to a gentleman who seemed to own the place, 
 and asked to be shown the hotel. He went out, and 
 presently returning with a chair and two negroes, 
 quietly said he would take us to his own house; the 
 hotel was not comfortable. And, without listening 
 
 355 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to remonstrances, led the way to a beautiful little 
 cottage, where he introduced his wife, Mrs. Cate, 
 who received us most charmingly, and had me in bed 
 before five minutes had elapsed. I don't know how 
 any one can believe the whole world so wicked ; for 
 my part I have met none but the kindest people 
 imaginable; I don't know any wicked ones. 
 
 Before half an hour had passed, a visitor was an- 
 nounced ; so I gathered up my weary bones, and with 
 scarcely a peep at the glass, walked to the parlor. I 
 commenced laughing before I got there, and the visi- 
 tor smiled most absurdly, too ; for it was — Mr. Hal- 
 sey! It seemed so queer to meet in this part of the 
 world that we laughed again after shaking hands. 
 It was odd. I was thinking how much amused the 
 General would be to hear of it ; for he had made a bet 
 that we would meet when I asserted that we would 
 not. 
 
 After the first few remarks, he told me of how he 
 had heard of our arrival. A gentleman had walked 
 into camp, asking if a Mr. Halsey was there. He 
 signified that he was the gentleman, whereupon the 
 other drew out my note, saying a young lady on the 
 cars had requested him to deliver it. Instantly 
 recognizing the chirography, he asked where I was. 
 "Hammond. This is her name," replied the other, 
 extending to him my card. Thinking, as he modestly 
 confessed, that I had intended it only for him, Mr. 
 Halsey coolly put it into his pocket, and called for 
 his horse. Mr. Howard lingered still, apparently 
 
 356 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 having something to say, which he found difficult to 
 put in words. At last, as the other prepared to 
 ride off, with a tremendous effort he managed to say, 
 "The young lady's card is mine. If it is all the same 
 to you, I should like to have it returned." Apologiz- 
 ing for the mistake, Mr. Halsey returned it, feeling 
 rather foolish, I should imagine, and rode on to the 
 village, leaving, as he avers, Mr. Howard looking 
 enviously after the lucky dog who was going to see 
 such a young lady. 
 
 He told me something that slightly disgusted me 
 with Captain Bradford. It was that when he reached 
 the bivouac the next morning after leaving Lin wood, 
 the Captain had put him under arrest for having 
 stayed there all night. It was too mean, considering 
 that it is more than probable that he himself re- 
 mained at Mrs. Fluker's. We discovered, too, that 
 we had missed two letters Mr. Halsey had written 
 us, which, of course, is a great disappointment. One, 
 written to both, the other, a short note of ten pages, 
 for me, which I am sure was worth reading. 
 
 It was not until after sunset that we exhausted all 
 topics of conversation, and Mr. Halsey took his 
 leave, promising to see us in the morning. 
 
 And, to be sure, as soon as I was dressed on Satur- 
 day, he again made his appearance, followed soon 
 after by the carriage. Taking a cordial leave of Mrs. 
 Cate, with many thanks for her hospitality, we 
 entered our conveyance, and with Mr. Halsey riding 
 by the side of the carriage, went on our way. He was 
 
 357 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 to accompany us only as far as Ponchatoula — some 
 six miles; but the turning-point in his journey seemed 
 to be an undetermined spot ; for mile after mile rolled 
 away — rather the wheels rolled over them — and 
 still he rode by us, talking through the window, and 
 the sprays of wild flowers he would pick for me from 
 time to time were growing to quite a bouquet, when 
 he proposed an exchange with the farmer who was 
 driving us, and, giving him his horse, took the reins 
 himself. 
 
 I think Miriam and I will always remember that 
 ride. The laughter, the conversation, the songs with 
 the murmuring accompaniment of the wheels, and a 
 thousand incidents pleasant to remember though 
 foolish to speak of, will always form a delightful 
 tableau in our recollections. I have but one disagree- 
 able impression to remember in connection with the 
 trip, and that occurred at a farmhouse two miles from 
 here, where we stopped to get strawberries. I pre- 
 ferred remaining in the carriage, to the trouble of 
 getting out; so all went in, Mr. Halsey dividing his 
 time equally between Miriam in the house and me in 
 the carriage, supplying me with violets and pensees 
 one moment, and the next showing me the most 
 tempting strawberries at the most provoking dis- 
 tance, assuring me they were exquisite. The individ- 
 ual to whom the carriage belonged, who had given 
 up the reins to Mr. Halsey, and who, no doubt, was 
 respectable enough for his class in his part of the 
 country, would allow no one to bring me my straw- 
 
 358 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 berries, reserving the honor for himself. Presently he 
 appeared with a large saucer of them covered with 
 cream. I was naturally thankful, but would have pre- 
 ferred his returning to the house after he had fulfilled 
 his mission. Instead, he had the audacity to express 
 his admiration of my personal appearance; with- 
 out a pause gave me a short sketch of his history, 
 informed me he was a widower, and very anxious to 
 marry again, and finally, — Lares and Penates of the 
 house of Morgan ap Kerrig, veil your affronted 
 brows ! You will scarcely credit that the creature had 
 the insolence to say that — he would marry me to- 
 morrow, if he could, and think himself blessed; for 
 the jewel of the soul must be equal to the casket that 
 contained it! Yes! this brute of a man had the 
 unparalleled audacity to speak to me in such a way ! 
 Just then, mother, remembering her invalid, came 
 to the gallery and asked how I was enjoying my 
 lunch. ' ' I 'm courting her ! ' ' cried the wretch. ' ' Glad 
 she did not go in ! Swear she 's the prettiest girl I ever 
 saw! " At that moment Mr. Halsey came sauntering 
 out with a handful of violets for me, and, turning my 
 shoulder to the creature, I entered into a lively dis- 
 cussion with him, and at last had the satisfaction of 
 seeing the wretch enter the house. 
 
 A drive through the straggling, half-deserted town 
 brought us here to Mrs. Greyson's, a large, old-fash- 
 ioned-looking house so close to the Tchefuncta (I 
 think that is the name of the river) that I could throw 
 a stone in it from my bed, almost. 
 
 359 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Mrs. Greyson herself would require two or three 
 pages to do her justice. Fancy the daughter of Sir 
 Francis Searle, the widow of General Greyson, the 
 belle of New Orleans in her young days, settled 
 down into a hotel-keeper on a small scale, with stately 
 ladies and gentlemen looking down in solemn sur- 
 prise at her boarders from their rich portrait frames 
 on the parlor wall! Fallen greatness always gives 
 me an uncomfortable thrill. Yet here was the heiress 
 of these shadows on the wall, gay, talkative, bus- 
 tling, active; with a word of caution, or a word of 
 advice to all; polite, attentive, agreeable to her 
 guests, quarreling and exacting with her servants, 
 grasping and avaricious with all; singing a piece 
 from " Norma " in a voice, about the size of a thread 
 No. 150, that showed traces of former excellence; or 
 cheapening a bushel of corn meal with equal volu- 
 bility. What a character! Full of little secrets and 
 mysteries. " Now, my dear, I don't ask you to tell a 
 story, you know; but if the others ask you if you 
 knew it, just look surprised and say, 'Oh, dear me, 
 when did it happen? ' 'Cause I promised not to tell ; 
 only you are such favorites that I could not help it, 
 and it would not do to acknowledge it. And if any one 
 asks you if I put these candles in here, just say you 
 brought them with you, that's a love, because they 
 will be jealous, as I only allow them lamps." Eccen- 
 tric Mrs. Greyson ! Many an hour's amusement did 
 she afford me. 1 
 
 1 This paragraph, which occurs retrospectively in the Diary under 
 
 360 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 A ride of twenty-six miles bolt upright in the car- 
 riage, over such bad roads, had almost used me up ; 
 I retired to bed in a state of collapse, leaving Miriam 
 to entertain Mr. Halsey alone. After supper, though, 
 I managed to put on my prettiest dress, and be car- 
 ried down to the parlor where I rejoined the rest. 
 Several strange ladies were present, one of whom has 
 since afforded me a hearty laugh. She was a horrid- 
 looking woman, and ten minutes after I entered, 
 crossing the room with a most laughable look of vul- 
 garity attempting to ape righteous scorn, jerked 
 some articles of personal property from the table and 
 retired with the sweep of a small hurricane. I thought 
 her an eccentric female; but what was my amaze- 
 ment yesterday to hear that she sought Mrs. Grey- 
 son, told her it was impossible for her to stay among 
 so many elegantly dressed ladies, and that she pre- 
 ferred keeping her room. Next day, she told her that 
 she was entirely too attentive to us, and rather than 
 be neglected in that way for other people, would 
 leave the house, which she did instantly. 
 
 There was a singular assembly of odd characters 
 in the parlor Saturday night, six of whom looked as 
 though they were but so many reflections of the same 
 individual in different glasses, and the seventh dif- 
 fered from the rest only in playing exquisitely on the 
 banjo — "Too well to be a gentleman," T fear. 
 These were soldiers, come to "call" on us. Half an 
 
 date of New Orleans, Sunday, May 24th, 1863, is inserted here for the 
 sake of clearness. — W. D. 
 
 36l 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 hour after we arrived, a dozen of them took posses- 
 sion of the bench on the bank of the river, one with 
 his banjo who played and sang delightfully. Old Mrs. 
 Greyson, who is rather eccentric, called, "Ah, Mr. 
 
 J ! Have you heard already of the arrival of the 
 
 young ladies? You never serenaded me I " The young 
 man naturally looked foolish; so she went out and 
 asked him to come around after dark and play for 
 the young ladies. So after a while he came, "bring- 
 ing six devils yet worse than himself," as the old 
 Scriptural phrase has it, all of whom sat on the same 
 side of the room, and looked at us steadily when they 
 thought we were not looking. All had the same voice, 
 the same bow, the same manner — that is to say 
 none at all of the latter ; one introduced an agreeable 
 variety, saying as he bowed to each separately, 
 "Happy to make your acquaintance, ma'am." Mr. 
 Halsey just managed to keep his face straight, while 
 I longed for a Dickens to put them all together and 
 make one amusing picture out of the seven. I 
 troubled myself very little about them, preferring 
 Mr. Halsey's company, not knowing when we would 
 meet again. It would not have been quite fair to 
 leave him to himself after he had ridden such a dis- 
 tance for us ; so I generously left the seven to Miriam, 
 content with one, and rather think I had the best 
 of the bargain. The one with the banjo suggested 
 that we should sing for them before he played for us, 
 so Miriam played on the piano, and sang with me on 
 the guitar half a dozen songs, and then the other 
 
 362 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 commenced. I don't know when I have been more 
 amused. There was an odd, piney-woods dash about 
 him that was exceedingly diverting, and he went 
 through comic, sentimental, and original songs with 
 an air that showed his whole heart was in it. Judg- 
 ing from the number of youth too timid to venture 
 in, who peeped at us from the windows, I should say 
 that young ladies are curiosities just now in Madi- 
 sonville. 
 
 Tuesday, April 14th. 
 
 Ah ! another delightful glimpse of society has been 
 offered to our charmed view. Such a treat has not 
 often fallen to our lot. Good Mrs. Greyson, in her 
 anxiety to make all around her happy, determined 
 we should have a dance. I should say ''Miriam"; 
 for Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy never indulge in such 
 amusements, and I can't; so it must have been for 
 Miriam alone. Such a crew! The two ladies above 
 mentioned and I almost laughed ourselves into hys- 
 terics. Poor Miriam, with a tall, slender Texan who 
 looked as though he had chopped wood all his life, 
 moved through the dance like the lady in " Comus " ; 
 only, now and then a burst of laughter at the odd 
 mistakes threatened to overcome her dignity. We 
 who were fortunately exempt from the ordeal, 
 laughed unrestrainedly at the melee. One danced 
 entirely with his arms ; his feet had very little to do 
 with the time. One hopped through with a most 
 dolorous expression of intense absorption in the ar- 
 duous task. Another never changed a benign smile 
 
 363 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that had appeared on entering, but preserved it 
 unimpaired through every accident. One female, 
 apparently of the tender age of thirty, wore a yellow 
 muslin, with her hair combed rigidly d, la chinoise, 
 and tightly fastened at the back of her head in a knot 
 whose circumference must have been fully equal to 
 that of a dollar. In addition to other charms, she 
 bore her neck and chin in a very peculiar manner, as 
 though she were looking over the fence, Mr. Christ- 
 mas remarked. Mr. Christmas had ridden all the way 
 from Ponchatoula to see us, and if it had not been for 
 him, Mr. Worthington, and Dr. Capdevielle, who 
 came in after a while, I think I should have expired, 
 and even Miriam would have given up in despair. 
 The Doctor was an old friend of Harry's, though we 
 
 never met him before. 
 
 Thursday, April 16th. 
 
 Mr. Halsey brought us each a little tortoise-shell 
 ring he had made for us by his camp-fire, as a keep- 
 sake, and of course we promised to wear them for 
 him, particularly as they make our hands look as 
 white as possible. Towards sunset, in spite of prayers 
 and entreaties from Miriam, who insisted that I was 
 too feeble to attempt it, I insisted on walking out to 
 the bench by the river to enjoy the cool breeze ; and 
 was rather glad I had come, when soon after Dr. 
 Capdevielle made his appearance, with two beauti- 
 ful bouquets which he presented with his French 
 bow to us; and introducing his friend, Mr. Milton- 
 berger, entered into one of those lively discussions 
 
 364 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 about nothing which Frenchmen know how to make 
 so interesting. . . . 
 
 No sooner had they left than, to our infinite sur- 
 prise, the immortal seven of Saturday night walked 
 in. Wonder what fun they find in coming? I see 
 none. For we rarely trouble ourselves about their 
 presence; there are but two I have addressed as yet; 
 one because I am forced to say yes or no to his re- 
 marks, and the other because I like his banjo, which 
 he brought again, and feel obliged to talk occasion- 
 ally since he is so accommodating, and affords me the 
 greatest amusement with his comic songs. I was 
 about retiring unceremoniously about twelve o'clock, 
 completely worn out, when they finally bethought 
 themselves of saying good-night, and saved me the 
 necessity of being rude. Wonder if that is all the fun 
 they have? I should say it was rather dry. It is 
 mean to laugh at them, though ; their obliging dispo- 
 sitions should save them from our ridicule. Last 
 evening Mr. Halsey succeeded in procuring a large 
 skiff, whereupon four or five of them offered to row, 
 and took us 'way down the Tchef uncta through the 
 most charming scenery to a spot where Echo an- 
 swered us in the most remarkable way ; her distinct 
 utterance was really charming. Not being aware of 
 the secret, I thought the first answer to the halloo 
 was from pickets. Mr. Halsey has a magnificent 
 voice ; and the echoes came back so full and rich that 
 soon we appointed him speaker by mutual consent, 
 and were more than repaid by the delightful sounds 
 
 365 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 that came from the woods. The last ray of the sun 
 on the smooth waters; the soldiers resting on their 
 oars while we tuned the guitar and sang in the still 
 evening, until twilight, slowly closing over, warned 
 us to return, forms another of those pictures inde- 
 scribable though never to be forgotten. 
 
 Bonfouca, Saturday, April 18th. 
 
 When I paused on Thursday to rest a few mo- 
 ments, how little idea I had that the rest I was 
 taking would soon be required for another journey! 
 
 It was agreed among us, with our fellow travel- 
 ers, Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy, whom we met at Mrs. 
 Greyson's, endeavoring to reach the city like our- 
 selves, that we would wait there until we could re- 
 ceive our passports from General Pemberton. When 
 this journey was first seriously contemplated, Miriam 
 wrote to Colonel Szymanski representing mother's 
 state of health and my unfortunate condition, the 
 necessity of medical advice for both, and the impos- 
 sibility of remaining in famishing Clinton, and asked 
 him to apply to the General for a pass to go to 
 Brother. The Colonel sent word through Eugene La 
 Noue that we should obtain it in a few days, and 
 advised us to go by way of Ponchatoula. Tired of 
 delay, and hearing that we could pass as readily on 
 General Gardiner's order, we obtained one and 
 started off without waiting for the other. The first 
 news on arriving at Madisonville was that no one 
 should pass except on General Pemberton 's order. 
 
 366 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Pleasant intelligence for those who had come that 
 far without! The other two ladies were in the same 
 dilemma. They were told that they should have a 
 pass if they would wait. Waiting at the expense of 
 four dollars a day for each, — Mrs. Ivy with two 
 very sick babies, Mrs. Bull with all her property in 
 New Orleans at stake, Tiche with her broken foot, 
 mother with a powerless hand, and I with an injured 
 spine, — was anything but agreeable under the cir- 
 cumstances ; though nothing could be more pleasant, 
 apart from this sense of restriction, than our stay at 
 Madisonville. General Pemberton took his leisure 
 about the affair, which is not surprising, as our Gen- 
 erals have more weighty matters than women's pass- 
 ports to attend to. Still, pleased as we were with our 
 residence there, it was necessary to get on as soon as 
 possible. So as I rested from labors about one o'clock 
 on Thursday, Mrs. Bull came in to suggest a new 
 plan to mother. It was to leave immediately for a 
 plantation called Bonfouca, thirty miles off, where 
 schooners came twice a week, and where we would 
 be allowed to embark without a pass. Carriages that 
 had just brought a party of ladies from Mandeville 
 were waiting on the other side of the river, which 
 could take us off immediately, for there was not a 
 moment to lose. 
 
 Instantly we resolved to hazard the undertaking. 
 
 About three we got into the large scow to cross the 
 Tchefuncta, in a party numbering five ladies, four 
 children, and four servants. One of the devoted 
 
 367 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 pickets, after setting me carefully in the most com- 
 fortable place, asked permission to accompany me 
 as far as the carriage ; he was sure he could assist me 
 more carefully than the drivers. And without further 
 parley, he followed. Before we turned the point, Mr. 
 Worthington 1 . . . the dim distance, rowing up the 
 stream in the direction of Madison ville. What if he 
 had perceived us, and was hastening after us, deeming 
 it his duty to arrest us for trying to get away with- 
 out General Pemberton's order? As the idea was 
 suggested, there was rather a nervous set of ladies on 
 board. The half-mile that we had to go before reach- 
 ing our landing-place was passed over in nervous 
 apprehension. At last the spot was reached. Mr. 
 Worthington had not appeared, and we reached terra 
 firma without being "nabbed," as we confidently 
 expected. The obliging picket put me into the car- 
 riage, bade me a most friendly adieu, and returned 
 to the village, leaving us with every prospect of 
 getting off without serious difficulty, in spite of our 
 serious apprehensions. 
 
 With two little children and Tiche with me, our 
 carriage started off some time before the others. Two 
 or three miles from our starting-point, I perceived 
 three gentlemen riding towards us, one of whom I 
 instantly recognized as Dr. Capdevielle. Instantly I 
 stopped the carriage to speak to him. His look of 
 astonishment when satisfied of my identity rather 
 
 1 The torn edge of a page has obliterated several words, which 
 might, to judge by the context, have been " was seen in." 
 
 368 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 amused me; but my amusement was changed to a 
 slight feeling of disappointment when he commenced 
 talking. Was it possible I was leaving Madison? 
 Oh, how distressed he was! He was promising him- 
 self so much pleasure ! And to leave so unexpectedly ! 
 He had just come with his friends from — some- 
 where. They had planned a surprise party at Mrs. 
 Greyson's for us that evening, and had been after 
 the supper they had procured — somewhere, as I 
 before observed, and were just now returning. And 
 now we were deserting them ! He had invited Mon- 
 sieur Berger, Monsieur Pollock, Monsieur 
 
 Mais enfin des Messieurs ! he exclaimed with a comi- 
 cal emphasis and smile that brought vivid recollec- 
 tions of the other party before my eyes, by force of 
 contrast, I suppose. And was n't I sorry we had left! 
 We fairly condoled with each other. Twenty min- 
 utes had elapsed before I had so far recovered from 
 the disappointment as to bethink myself of the pro- 
 priety of continuing my journey. And then with the 
 assurance of being mutually desolS, we parted with a 
 hearty good-bye, and he rode on to rejoin his com- 
 panions, while I went the way he had come. 
 
 Two miles beyond, I met three others of the six 
 gentlemen he had mentioned, riding in a little dog- 
 cart which contained champagne baskets in which 
 the supper was evidently packed, each gentleman 
 elegantly dressed, holding between them a little 
 basket of bouquets that my prophetic soul told me 
 was intended for Miriam and me. I was not per- 
 
 369 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 sonally acquainted with the gentlemen, or I should 
 have told them of the disappointment that awaited 
 them. It must have been a disappointment! 
 
 In the midst of profound reflections about fate, 
 vanity of human wishes and calculations, friendships 
 formed on the roadside in the journey through life 
 (or from Clinton), I raised my eyes to behold Lake 
 Ponchartrain, and to find myself in Mandeville, just 
 seven miles from the Tchefuncta. Looking at the 
 dreary expanse of water, which suggested loneliness 
 and desolation, first recalled my own situation to me. 
 Here I was in this straggling place, with Tiche, a 
 cripple like myself, and two little children under 
 my care, without an idea of where we were to go. 
 Any one as timid and dependent as I to be placed in 
 such a position as pioneer to such a tremendous 
 company would feel rather forlorn. But some step 
 had to be taken, so I consulted the driver as to where 
 we could obtain board, and followed his suggestion. 
 One house after the other we stopped at, and with 
 my veil down and my heart beating as though I were 
 soliciting charity, or some other unpleasant favor, I 
 tried to engage rooms for the company, without suc- 
 cess. At last we were directed to a Frenchman, who, 
 after the usual assurance of "nothing to eat" (which 
 we afterwards found to be only too true), consented 
 to receive us. "Taking possession" seemed to me 
 such a dreadful responsibility that for some time I 
 remained in the carriage, afraid to get out before the 
 others arrived. But there was still no sign of 'them; 
 
 370 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 so I gathered my children and Tiche, and prepared to 
 dismount with the Frenchman's assistance. 
 
 I have read descriptions of such houses and people, 
 but I have not often seen them. The man and his 
 wife were perfect specimens of the low Canadian, 
 speaking only French. No sooner had they discov- 
 ered that I was "bless6e," as they supposed, than 
 each seized an arm and with overwhelming exclama- 
 tions of sympathy, halfway dragged me into the 
 room, where they thrust me into a chair. Their 
 family seemed to consist only of cats and dogs who 
 seemed to agree most harmoniously, and each of 
 whom conceived the liveliest affection for us. As we 
 were leaving Mrs. Greyson's, a stranger just from the 
 city, brought to our room a paper of ham, tongue, and 
 biscuits for "the sick young lady" (Heaven only 
 knows how she heard of her), saying she had just 
 traveled the road herself, and knew I would find 
 nothing to eat; so she would insist on putting this in 
 our basket. It was done in a manner that put all 
 refusal out of the question; so it had to be accepted. 
 I was feeding little Jenny Ivy and Minna Bull on 
 this lunch for want of something else to do, when the 
 affection of the cats and dogs became overpowering. 
 Six of them jumped at us, licked Jenny's face, eat 
 Minna's ham, and what with sundry kicks and slaps 
 I had exercise enough to last a week, and was rapidly 
 losing all my strength, when the woman came to my 
 rescue and called her pets off just as the rest of the 
 party drove up to find me almost exhausted. 
 
 37i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Such a bedroom ! There was a narrow single bed in 
 which mother, Jenny, and I slept, a decrepit table on 
 which stood a diseased mirror, a broken lounge with- 
 out a bottom, and a pine armoir rilled with — corn ! In 
 the centre stood the chief ornament, a huge pile of dirt, 
 near which Miriam's mattress was placed, while the 
 sail of a boat flanked it in on the other side, arranged 
 as a bed for Tiche. The accommodations in the 
 other bedroom were far inferior to ours. Then the 
 mosquitoes swarmed like pandemonium on a spree, 
 and there was but one bar in the house, which the 
 man declared should be only for me. I would rather 
 have been devoured by the insects than enjoy com- 
 forts denied to the others ; so I made up my mind it 
 should be the last time. 
 
 Our supper was rare. "Nothing like it was ever 
 seen in Paris," as McClellan would say. It consisted 
 of one egg apiece, with a small spoonful of rice. A 
 feast, you see! Price, one dollar each, besides the 
 dollar paid for the privilege of sleeping among dirt, 
 dogs, and fleas. 
 
 Sunday, April 19th. 
 
 Friday morning we arose and prepared to resume 
 our journey for Bonfouca, twenty-three miles away. 
 The man walked in very unceremoniously to get 
 corn from the armoir as we got up, throwing open the 
 windows and performing sundry little offices usually 
 reserved for femmes-de-chambre; but with that excep- 
 tion everything went on very well . Breakfast being a 
 luxury not to be procured, we got into the carriages 
 
 372 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 before sunrise, and left this romantic abode of dogs 
 and contentment. Again our road lay through piney 
 woods, so much like that from Hammond to Pon- 
 chatoula that involuntarily I found myself looking 
 through the window to see if Mr. Halsey was there. 
 It lacked only his presence to make the scene all in 
 all the same. But alas ! this time the driver picked me 
 wild flowers, and brought us haws. Mr. Halsey, in 
 blissful ignorance of our departure, was many and 
 many a mile away. The drive was not half as amus- 
 ing. The horse would not suffer any one except 
 Miriam to drive, and at last refused to move until 
 the driver got down and ran along by the carriage. 
 Every time the poor boy attempted to occupy his 
 seat, the obstinate animal would come to a dead stop 
 and refuse to go until he dismounted again. I am 
 sure that he walked nineteen miles out of the twenty- 
 three, out of complaisance to the ungrateful brute. 
 All equally fatigued and warm, we reached this 
 place about twelve o'clock. Mrs. Bull had arrived 
 before us; and as the carriage stopped, her girl Delia 
 came to the gate the personification of despair, cry- 
 ing, "You can't get out, ladies. They say we can't 
 stop here; we must go right back." The panic which 
 ensued is indescribable. Go back when we were al- 
 most at our journey's end, after all the money we 
 had spent, the fatigue we had undergone, to be 
 turned back all the way to Clinton, perhaps! "With 
 my sick babies!" cried Mrs. Ivy. "With my sick 
 child!" cried mother. "Never! You may turn me 
 
 373 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 out of your house, but we will die in the woods first! 
 To go back is to kill my daughter and these babies ! " 
 This was to the overseer who came to the carriage. 
 "Madam, I have orders to allow no one to pass who 
 has not written permission. Lieutenant Worthing- 
 ton sent the order two days ago ; and I am liable to 
 imprisonment if I harbor those who have no pass- 
 port," the man explained. "But we have General 
 Gardiner's order," I expostulated. "Then you shall 
 certainly pass; but these ladies cannot. I can't turn 
 you away, though; you shall all come in and stay 
 until something can be determined on." 
 
 This much granted was an unlooked-for blessing. 
 He showed us the way to a large unfurnished house, 
 one room of which contained a bed with one naked 
 mattress, which was to be our apartment. Mrs. Bull 
 sat down in a calm, dignified state of despair; little 
 Mrs. Ivy dissolved in tears; we all felt equally dis- 
 consolate; the prospect of getting off was not so 
 pleasant when we thought we should be obliged to 
 leave them behind. Our common misfortunes had 
 endeared us to each other, strangers as we were a 
 week ago. So we all lamented together, a perfect 
 Jeremiade of despair. The overseer is very tender- 
 hearted; he condoled, comforted, and finally deter- 
 mined that if there was any way of getting them off, 
 they should go. A glimpse of sunshine returned to 
 our lowering sky, and cheerfulness reigned once 
 more, to be violently dethroned some hours later. 
 Three of the Madisonville pickets were announced 
 
 374 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 approaching the house. Of course, they were coming 
 after us ! Oh, that vile Mr. Worthington ! We always 
 did hate him! There was such a sneaky look about 
 him. Hypocrite ! we always felt we should hate him ! 
 Oh, the wretch! "I won't go back!" cried mother. 
 "I shall not," said quiet Mrs. Bull. "He shall pay 
 my expenses if he insists on taking me back!" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Ivy. " Spent all my money! Mrs. Bull, 
 you have none to lend me, remember, and Mrs. 
 Morgan shan't ! Oh, that Worthington ! Let 's make 
 him pay for all!" We smothered our laughter to sit 
 trembling within as the pickets stepped on the gal- 
 lery. I believe we commenced praying. Just think! 
 Thus far, our journey has cost mother two hundred 
 and twenty dollars. It would cost the same to get 
 back to blessed Clinton, and fancy our spending that 
 sum to settle there again ! Besides, we gave away all 
 our clothes to our suffering friends ; and what would 
 we do there now? 
 
 After half an hour of painful suspense, we discov- 
 ered that it would have been as well to spare poor 
 Mr. Worthington ; for the pickets were not after us, 
 
 but had come to escort Mrs. R , a woman who 
 
 was taking the body of her son, who was killed at 
 Murfreesboro, to the city for interment. Poor 
 woman! she rode all this distance sitting on her child's 
 coffin. Her husband was one of those who with 
 
 B stole that large sum of money from father 
 
 which came so near ruining him. She speaks of her 
 husband as of a departed saint. I dare say she be- 
 
 375 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lieves him innocent of the theft in spite of his public 
 confession. The grave has wiped out even the dis- 
 grace of the penitentiary where he expiated his 
 offense. . . . When I told Tiche who the woman was, 
 she clasped her hands, saying, "The Lord is good! 
 Years and years master suffered while she grew rich, 
 and now her time comes! The Lord don't forget! " I 
 can't feel that way. It is well for the narrow-minded 
 to look for God's judgment on us for our sins; but 
 mine is a more liberal faith. God afflicted her for 
 some wise purpose; but if I thought it was to avenge 
 father, I should be afraid of her. As it is, I can be 
 sorry, oh, so sorry for her! 
 
 As usual I find myself taken care of at the expense 
 of the others. There are but two bars on the place ; 
 one, the overseer said, should be for me, the other for 
 the children. Sheets were scarce, covers scarcer 
 still. Tired of being spoiled in this way, I insisted on 
 being allowed to sleep on a mattress on the floor, 
 after a vigorous skirmish with mother and Miriam, 
 in which I came off victorious. For a bar, I impressed 
 Miriam's grenadine dress, which she fastened to the 
 doorknob and let fall over me a la Victoria tester 
 arrangement. To my share fell a double blanket, 
 which, as Tiche had no cover, I unfolded, and as she 
 used the foot of my bed for a pillow, gave her the 
 other end of it, thus (tell it not in Yankeeland, for 
 it will never be credited) actually sleeping under the 
 same bedclothes with our black, shiny negro nurse! 
 We are grateful, though, even for these discomforts; 
 
 376 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 it might have been so much worse! Indeed, I fear 
 that our fellow travelers do not fare as well. Those 
 who have sheets have no bars ; those who have blan- 
 kets have no sheets ; and one woman who has recently- 
 joined us has nothing except a mattress which is to 
 do the duty of all three. But then, we got bread! 
 Real, pure, wheat bread! And coffee! None of your 
 potato, burnt sugar, and parched corn abomination, 
 but the unadulterated berry! I can't enjoy it fully, 
 though ; every mouthful is cloyed with the recollec- 
 tion that Lilly and her children have none. 
 
 As usual, as Mrs. Greyson says, the flowers follow 
 us; yesterday I received three bouquets, and Miriam 
 got one too. In this out-of-the-way place such offer- 
 ings are unexpected ; and these were doubly gratify- 
 ing coming from people one is not accustomed to 
 receiving them from. For instance, the first was 
 from the overseer, the second from a servant, and 
 the third from a poor boy for whom we have sub- 
 scribed to pay his passage to the city. 
 
 Wednesday, April 22d, 
 New Orleans. 
 
 Yesterday we arrived ; I thought we should never 
 get here. Monday we had almost given up in de- 
 spair, believing the schooner would never return. 
 But in the evening, when all were gathered in our 
 room discussing our hopes and fears, a sail was per- 
 ceived at the mouth of the bayou, whereupon every 
 one rushed out to see the boat land. I believe that I 
 
 377 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 have not mentioned that this Bonfouca is on a bayou 
 of the same name that runs within a few yards of this 
 house. It is an Indian name signifying Winding 
 River, which struck us as very appropriate when we 
 watched the schooner sailing now to the left, now to 
 the right, apparently through the green fields; for 
 the high grass hid the course of the stream so that 
 the faintest line was not perceptible, except just in 
 front of the house. All was now bustle and confu- 
 sion, packing, dressing, and writing last words to our 
 friends at home, until half-past eleven, when we 
 embarked. 
 
 This is my first experience of schooners, and I 
 don't care if I never behold another. The cabin where 
 Mr. Kennedy immediately carried me, was just the 
 size of my bed at home (in the days I had a home) and 
 just high enough to stand in. On each side of the 
 short ladder, there was a mattress two feet wide. 
 
 One of them Mrs. R had possession of already, 
 
 the other was reserved for me. I gave the lower part 
 of mine to Minna and Jennie, who spent the rest of 
 the night fighting each other and kicking me. 
 
 Just before twelve we "weighed anchor" and I 
 went on deck to take a last look at Dixie with the 
 rest of the party. Every heart was full. Each left 
 brothers, sisters, husband, children, or dear friends 
 behind. We sang, "Farewell dear land," with a slight 
 quaver in our voices, looked at the beautiful starlight 
 shining on the last boundary of our glorious land, and, 
 fervently and silently praying, passed out of sight. 
 
 378 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 God bless you, all you dear ones we have left in 
 our beloved country! God bless and prosper you, 
 and grant you the victory in the name of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 I returned to my mattress, and this is the way 
 we spent the night. 
 
 Mrs. R , rocking and moaning as she sat up in 
 
 bed, whined out her various ills with a minute de- 
 scription of each, ceasing the recital only to talk of 
 her son's body which lay on deck. (Yesterday morn- 
 ing she was sitting crying on his coffin while a strange 
 woman sat on its head eating her bread and cheese.) 
 Mrs. Bull, one of the most intelligent and refined 
 ladies I have yet met, who is perfectly devoted to 
 me, sat by me, laughing and talking, trying her best 
 to make every one comfortable and happy in her 
 
 unobtrusive way. Mother talked to Mrs. R and 
 
 cried at the thought of leaving her children fighting 
 and suffering. The space between the two beds was 
 occupied by three Irishwomen and Mrs. Ivy's two 
 babies. The babies had commenced screaming as 
 they were brought into the pen, at which I was not 
 surprised. Having pitched their voices on the proper 
 key, they never ceased shrieking, kicking, crying, 
 throwing up, and going through the whole list of 
 baby performances. The nurses scolded with shrill 
 voices above the bedlam that had hushed even Mrs. 
 
 R 's complaints; Jennie and Minna quarreled, 
 
 kicked, and cried; and as an aggravation to the pre- 
 vious discomforts, a broad-shouldered, perspiring 
 
 379 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Irishwoman sat just by my head, bracing herself 
 against my pillow in the most unpleasant style. I 
 endured it without flinching until about half-past 
 three, when the condensed odor of a dozen different 
 people and children became unendurable, and I stag- 
 gered up on deck where Miriam and Mrs. Ivy had 
 been wise enough to remain without venturing be- 
 low. They laid me on a bench in the stern, rolled me 
 up in shawls to keep off the heavy dew, and there I 
 remained until daylight with them, as wide awake 
 as ever. 
 
 At daylight there was a universal smoothing of 
 heads, and straightening of dresses, besides arrange- 
 ments made for the inspection of baggage. Being 
 unwilling for any Christian to see such a book as 
 this, I passed a piece of tape through the centre 
 leaves, and made Miriam tie it under her hoops. At 
 sunrise we were in sight of the houses at the lake 
 end. It seemed as though we would never reach 
 land. 
 
 I forgot to speak of our alarm as we got in the lake. 
 No sooner had we fairly left the bayou than the 
 sky suddenly became threatening. The captain 
 shook his head and spoke of a very ugly night for the 
 lake, which sent everybody's heart to their throats, 
 and alarmed us immeasurably. We got talking of 
 the sailor's superstition of crossing the water with a 
 corpse, until we persuaded ourselves that it was 
 more than probable we would founder in the coming 
 storm. But the severest storm we met was the one 
 
 380 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 in the cabin ; and all night the only wind was a head 
 breeze, and the spicy gale from below. 
 
 When we at last entered the canal, I beheld the 
 animal now so long unseen, the Yankee. In their 
 dark blue uniforms, they stood around, but I thought 
 of the dear gray coats, and even the pickets of 
 Madisonville seemed nobler and greater men than 
 these. Immediately a guard was placed on board, 
 we whispering before he came, "Our dear Confeder- 
 ates, God bless them." 
 
 We had agreed among ourselves that come what 
 would, we would preserve our dignity and self- 
 respect, and do anything rather than create a scene 
 among such people. It is well that we agreed. So 
 we whispered quietly among ourselves, exhorting 
 each other to pay no attention to the remarks the 
 Yankees made about us as we passed, and acting the 
 martyr to perfection, until we came to Hickock's 
 Landing. Here there was a group of twenty Yan- 
 kees. Two officers came up and asked us for papers ; 
 we said we had none. In five minutes one came back, 
 and asked if we had taken the oath. No; we had 
 never taken any. He then took down our names. 
 Mother was alone in the coop. He asked if there was 
 not another. The schooner had fifteen passengers, 
 and we had given only fourteen names. Mother then 
 came up and gave her name, going back soon 
 after. 
 
 While one went after our passes, others came to 
 examine our baggage. I could not but smile as an 
 
 38i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 unfortunate young man got on his knees before our 
 trunk and respectfully handled our dirty petticoats 
 and stockings. "You have gone through it before," 
 he said. "Of course, the Confederates searched it." 
 — "Indeed, they did not touch it!" I exclaimed. 
 "They never think of doing such work." — "Miss, 
 it is more mortifying to me than it can be to you," he 
 answered. And I saw he was actually blushing. He 
 did his work as delicately as possible, and when he 
 returned the keys, asked if we had letters. I opened 
 my box and put them into his hand. One came near 
 getting me into serious trouble. It was sent by some 
 one I never saw, with the assurance that it contained 
 nothing objectionable. I gave it sealed to the man, 
 who opened it, when it proved to be rather disagree- 
 able, I judged from his language. He told me his 
 captain must see it before he could let me have it, 
 and carried it off. Presently he came back and told 
 me it could not be returned. I told him to burn it 
 then, as I neither knew the writer, the contents, nor 
 those it was written to. "I may save you some diffi- 
 culty if I destroy it," he remarked, whereupon he 
 tore it up and flung it into the canal. I have since 
 found I had cause to be grateful ; for just after came 
 an officer to see the young lady who brought that 
 letter. I showed the pieces in the water, saying the 
 young man had torn it up, which seemed to annoy 
 him; it was to be sent to headquarters, he said. 
 
 Then came a bundle of papers on board carried 
 by another, who standing in front of us, cried in a 
 
 382 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 startling way, "Sarah Morgan!" — "Here" (very 
 quietly). — "Stand up!" — "I cannot" (firmly). — 
 "Why not?" — "Unable" (decisively). After this 
 brief dialogue, he went on with the others until all 
 were standing except myself, when he delivered to 
 each a strip of paper that informed the people that 
 Miss, or Mrs. So-and-So had taken and subscribed 
 the oath as Citizen of the United States. I thought 
 that was all, and rejoiced at our escape. But after 
 another pause he uncovered his head and told us to 
 hold up our right hands. Half-crying, I covered my 
 face with mine and prayed breathlessly for the boys 
 and the Confederacy, so that I heard not a word he 
 was saying until the question, "So help you God?" 
 struck my ear. I shuddered and prayed harder. 
 There came an awful pause in which not a lip was 
 moved. Each felt as though in a nightmare, until, 
 throwing down his blank book, the officer pro- 
 nounced it "All right!" Strange to say, I experi- 
 enced no change. I prayed as hard as ever for the 
 boys and our country, and felt no nasty or disagree- 
 able feeling which would have announced the process 
 of turning Yankee. 
 
 Then it was that mother commenced. He turned 
 to the mouth of the diminutive cave, and asked if 
 she was ready to take the oath. "I suppose I have 
 to, since I belong to you," she replied. " No, madam, 
 you are not obliged ; we force no one. Can you state 
 your objections?" "Yes, I have three sons fighting 
 against you, and you have robbed me, beggared me ! " 
 
 383 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 she exclaimed, launching into a speech in which 
 Heaven knows what she did not say ; there was little 
 she left out, from her despoiled house to her sore 
 hand, both of which she attributed to the at first 
 amiable man, who was rapidly losing all patience. 
 Faint with hunger, dizzy with sleeplessness, she had 
 wrought on her own feelings until her nerves were 
 beyond control. She was determined to carry it out, 
 and crying and sobbing went through with it. 
 
 I neither spoke nor moved. . . . The officer walked 
 off angrily and sent for a guard to have mother taken 
 before General Bowens. Once through her speech, 
 mother yielded to the entreaties of the ladies and pro- 
 fessed herself ready to take the oath, since she was 
 obliged to. " Madam, I did not invite you to come," 
 said the polite officer, who refused to administer the 
 oath; and putting several soldiers on board, ordered 
 them to keep all on board until one could report to 
 General Bowens. Mother retired to the cabin, while 
 we still kept our seats above. 
 
 Oh, that monotonous, never-ending canal! We 
 thought it would go on forever. At last we came to 
 the basin in the centre of the city. Here was a posi- 
 tion for ladies ! Sitting like Irish emigrants on their 
 earthly possessions, and coming in a schooner to 
 New Orleans, which a year ago would have filled 
 us with horror. Again the landing was reached, 
 and again we were boarded by officers. I don't 
 know how they knew of the difficulty mother had 
 made, but they certainly did, and ordered that 
 
 384 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 none should leave until the General's will was made 
 known. 
 
 Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy, after a long delay and 
 many representations, at last prepared to leave. I 
 was sitting in the spot I had occupied ever since be- 
 fore daylight, with nothing to support me above my 
 hips. All of us had fasted since an early and light 
 supper the night before ; none had slept. I was grow- 
 ing so weak from these three causes, and the burning 
 sun (for it was now twelve), that I could hardly 
 speak when they came to tell me good-bye. Alarmed 
 at my appearance, Mrs. Bull entreated the officer to 
 allow me to leave the boat. No, he said ; it was im- 
 possible; we should remain on board until General 
 Bowens could come. We may get an answer in half 
 an hour, or we may not get it for some time ; and 
 there we must stay until it came. "But this young 
 lady has been ill for months; she is perfectly ex- 
 hausted, and will faint if she is not removed imme- 
 diately," pleaded Mrs. Bull. She did not know my 
 powers of control. Faint! I would have expired 
 silently first ! The officer said those were his orders ; 
 I could not leave. "Do you think you are perform- 
 ing your duty as a gentleman and a Christian? This 
 young lady has obtained her pass already, without 
 the slightest difficulty," she persisted. Still he said 
 he was acting according to orders. Not to be baffled, 
 she begged that she might be allowed to take me to 
 Brother, telling him who he was, while our trunk, 
 Miriam, Tiche, and mother would remain as hos- 
 
 385 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tages. Then he gave a reluctant consent on condi- 
 tion I left my number, so he could go after me when 
 I was wanted. 
 
 I don't know what good came of the consent, for 
 there I was to remain until something, I don't know 
 what, happened. I only know I was growing deathly 
 sick and faint, and could hardly hold myself up, 
 when some time after Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy left 
 (under the impression that I was to go immediately), 
 a gentleman in citizen's clothes came to me and said 
 he had obtained permission for me to wait General 
 Bowens's orders in his office, a few steps from the 
 schooner. Thankful for so much, I accepted his arm 
 and slowly dragged myself along to the first shelter 
 I had seen that day. By some wonderful condescen- 
 sion Miriam and mother were allowed to follow; and 
 with the guard at the door, we waited there for half 
 an hour more until our sentence could be received. 
 
 Miriam had written a line to Brother as soon as 
 possible, telling him of the situation, and while we 
 were waiting in this office, I half dead with fatigue, 
 a carriage dashed up to the door, and out of it stepped 
 Brother. I felt that all our troubles were over then. 
 He looked so glad to see us that it seemed a pity to 
 tell the disagreeable story that yet remained to be 
 told. But once heard, he made all go right in a few 
 moments. He got into the carriage with mother, to 
 take her to General Bowens, while we got into an- 
 other to come to the house. I saw no more of the 
 guard or officer. 
 
 386 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 When we arrived, Sister was too astonished to 
 speak. She did not believe we would come when it was 
 ordered that all should take the oath on entering. If 
 we had only realized it I don't think we would, either. 
 
 In half an hour mother got back. Supported by 
 Brother's presence, she had managed to hold up her 
 right hand and say "Yes" to the oath — which was 
 more than any of us had done. 
 
 Brother found an officer at the door who had been 
 ordered (before he took mother to the General) to 
 arrest her and confine her in the Custom-House. I 
 suppose Miriam and I would have shared the im- 
 prisonment with her. But Brother has a way of mak- 
 ing all these things right; and the man was sent back 
 without accomplishing his mission. 
 
 Sunday, April 26th. 
 I am getting well! Bless the Lord, my soul! 
 Life, health, and happiness dawn on my trembling 
 view again! . . . Dr. Stone came to see me a few 
 hours after I arrived ; two days after, he called again ; 
 this morning I walked out to meet him when he was 
 announced, and he asked me how my sister was. 
 When I told him I was myself, "God bless my soul! 
 You don't say so!" he exclaimed, evidently aston- 
 ished at the resurrection. 
 
 Thursday, April 30th. 
 
 Was not the recollection of this day bitter enough 
 to me already? I did not think it could be more so. 
 
 387 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Yet behold me crying as I have not cried for many 
 and many a day. Not for Harry ; I dare not cry for 
 him. I feel a deathlike quiet when I think of him; 
 a fear that even a deep-drawn breath would wake 
 him in his grave. And as dearly as I love you, Hal, 
 I don't want you in this dreary world again. . . . 
 
 Talk of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes! 
 Talk of Louis XIV ! Of — pshaw ! my head is in such 
 a whirl that history gets all mixed up, and all paral- 
 lels seem weak and moderate in comparison to this 
 infamous outrage. To-day, thousands of families, 
 from the most respectable down to the least, all who 
 have had the firmness to register themselves enemies 
 to the United States, are ordered to leave the city 
 before the fifteenth of May. Think of the thousands, 
 perfectly destitute, who can hardly afford to buy 
 their daily bread even here, sent to the Confederacy, 
 where it is neither to be earned nor bought, without 
 money, friends, or a home. Hundreds have comfort- 
 able homes here, which will be confiscated to enrich 
 those who drive them out. "It is an ill wind that 
 blows no one good." Such dismal faces as one meets 
 everywhere! Each looks heartbroken. Homeless, 
 friendless, beggars, is written in every eye. Brother's 
 face is too unhappy to make it pleasant to look at 
 him. True, he is safe; but hundreds of his friends are 
 going forth destitute, leaving happy homes behind, 
 not knowing where the crust of bread for famishing 
 children is to come from to-morrow. He went to 
 General Bowens and asked if it were possible that 
 
 388 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 women and children were included in the order. Yes, 
 he said; they should all go, and go in the Confed- 
 eracy. They should not be allowed to go elsewhere. 
 Penned up like sheep to starve! That's the idea! 
 With the addition of forty thousand mouths to feed, 
 they think they can invoke famine to their aid, see- 
 ing that their negro brothers don't help them much 
 in the task of subjugating us. 
 
 Don't care who knows I smuggled in a dozen let- 
 ters! Wish I had had more! 
 
 June 9th, Tuesday. 
 
 My dear Brother, who is always seeking to make 
 somebody happy, arranged a dinner-party at the 
 lake for us Saturday. There was quite a number of 
 us, as, besides ourselves and the five children, we 
 had Mrs. Price and her children, Mrs. Bull, and three 
 nurses. . . . There are no Southern young men left in 
 town, and those who remain would hardly be received 
 with civility by Miriam and myself. Of the Yankees, 
 Brother has so much consideration for us that he 
 has never invited one to his house since we have been 
 here, though he has many friends among them who 
 visited here before our arrival. Such delicacy of feel- 
 ing we fully appreciate, knowing how very few men 
 of such a hospitable nature would be capable of such 
 a sacrifice. Thinking we need company, Brother fre- 
 quently invites what he calls "a safe old Secession- 
 ist" (an old bachelor of fifty-three who was wounded 
 at Shiloh) to dine with us ; thinking it a fair compro- 
 
 389 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 mise between the stay-at-home youth and Yankees, 
 neither of whom this extremely young man could be 
 confounded with. 
 
 Sunday, June 14th. 
 
 The excitement about Port Hudson and Vicks- 
 burg is intense. When I heard on Friday that the 
 last attack was being made on the former place, I 
 took to my prayers with a delirium of fervor. If I was 
 a man, if I had the blessed privilege of fighting, I would 
 be on the breastworks, or perchance on the water 
 batteries under Colonel Steadman's command. But 
 as I was unfortunately born a woman, I stay home 
 and pray with heart and soul. That is all I can do; 
 but I do it with a will. In my excitement, I was wish- 
 ing that I was a Catholic, that I might make a vow 
 for the preservation of Port Hudson, when a brilliant 
 idea struck me. It was this: though vows are pe- 
 culiar to Catholics, mosquitoes are common to all 
 sects. From that arose this heroic scheme: I said, 
 "Hear me, Miriam, thou who knowest I have slept 
 undisturbed but three nights out of seventeen, four 
 hours out of each of the other fourteen having been 
 spent in destroying my insatiable foe. Thou seest 
 that nightly vigils are torturing me pale and weak, 
 thou knowest what unspeakable affection I have for 
 the youth yclept by the ancients Morpheus. Yet 
 listen to my vow: If Port Hudson holds out, if our 
 dear people are victorious, I offer up myself on the 
 altar of my country to mosquitoes, and never again 
 will I murmur at their depredations and voracity." 
 
 390 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Talk of pilgrimages, and the ordinary vow of wearing 
 only the Virgin's colors (the most becoming in the 
 world) ; there never was one of greater heroism or more 
 sublime self-sacrifice than this. And as if to prove my 
 sincerity, they have been worse than ever these last 
 two nights. But as yet I have not murmured; for 
 the Yankees, who swore to enter Port Hudson before 
 last Monday night, have not yet fulfilled their prom- 
 ise, and we hold it still. Vivent vows and mosquitoes, 
 and forever may our flag wave over the entrench- 
 ments! We will conquer yet, with God's blessing! 
 
 A week or ten days ago came a letter from Lydia, 
 who is placed within the lines by this recent raid. 
 She writes that the sugar-house and quarters have 
 been seized for Yankee hospitals, that they have 
 been robbed of their clothing, and that they are in 
 pursuit of the General, who I pray Heaven may 
 escape them. She wrote for clothing, provisions, and 
 a servant, and after we had procured them all, and 
 were ready to send them, we discovered that they 
 would not be allowed to pass ; so I hardly know what 
 the poor child will do unless she accepts Brother's 
 invitation to come down to him immediately, if she 
 
 thinks it right. 
 
 June 17th. 
 
 I must write something somewhere, I don't care if 
 
 dinner is ready, and Brother's "safe old Secesh" 
 
 downstairs ! Lydia has another boy ! Letter has just 
 
 come, and I am demented about my new godchild ! 
 
 There now! feel better! 
 
 39i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 One more word — it shall be called "Howell." 
 Dear, blessed little baby ! how I shall love it ! 
 
 Sunday, June 21st. 
 
 How about that oath of allegiance? is what I fre- 
 quently ask myself, and always an uneasy qualm of 
 conscience troubles me. Guilty or not guilty of per- 
 jury? According to the law of God in the abstract, 
 and of nations, Yes ; according to my conscience, Jeff 
 Davis, and the peculiar position I was placed in, No. 
 Which is it? Had I had any idea that such a pledge 
 would be exacted, would I have been willing to come? 
 Never ! The thought would have horrified me. The 
 reality was never placed before me until we reached 
 Bonfouca. There I was terrified at the prospect; but 
 seeing how impossible it would be to go back, I 
 placed all my hopes in some miracle that was to 
 intervene to prevent such a crime, and confidently 
 believed my ill health or something else would save 
 me, while all the rest of the party declared they would 
 think it nothing, and take forty oaths a day, if neces- 
 sary. A forced oath, all men agree, is not binding. 
 The Yankees lay particular stress on this being vol- 
 untary, and insist that no one is solicited to take it 
 except of their own free will. Yet look at the scene 
 that followed, when mother showed herself unwilling ! 
 Think of being ordered to the Custom-House as a 
 prisoner for saying she supposed she would have to ! 
 That 's liberty! that is free will! It is entirely op- 
 tional; you have only to take it quietly or go to jail. 
 
 392 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 That is freedom enough, certainly! There was not 
 even that choice left to me. I told the officer who 
 took down my name that I was unwilling to take 
 the oath, and asked if there was no escaping it. 
 " None whatever " was his reply. "You have it to do, 
 and there is no getting out of it." His rude tone 
 frightened me into half-crying; but for all that, as he 
 said, I had it to do. If perjury it is, which will God 
 punish : me, who was unwilling to commit the crime, 
 or the man who forced me to it? 
 
 Friday, June 26th. 
 
 praise the Lord, my soul ! Here is good news 
 enough to make me happy for a month ! Brother is 
 so good about that ! Every time he hears good news 
 on our side, he tells it just as though it was on his 
 side, instead of on ours ; while all bad news for us he 
 carefully avoids mentioning, unless we question him. 
 So to-day he brought in a budget for us. 
 
 Lee has crossed the Potomac on his way to Wash- 
 ington with one hundred and sixty thousand men. 
 Gibbes and George are with him. Magruder is 
 marching on Fort Jackson, to attack it in the rear. 
 One or two of our English ironclads are reported at 
 the mouth of the river, and Farragut has gone down 
 to capture them. O Jimmy! Jimmy! suppose he 
 should be on one of them? We don't know the name 
 of his ship, and it makes us so anxious for him, dur- 
 ing these months that we have heard nothing of his 
 whereabouts. 
 
 393 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 It is so delightful to see these frightened Yankees! 
 One has only to walk downtown to be satisfied of the 
 alarm that reigns. Yesterday came the tidings of the 
 capture of Brashere City by our troops, and that a 
 brigade was fifteen miles above here, coming down 
 to the city. Men congregated at corners whispering 
 cautiously. These were evidently Confederates who 
 had taken the oath. Solitary Yankees straggled 
 along with the most lugubrious faces, troubling no 
 one. We walked down to Blineau's with Mrs. Price, 
 and over our ice-cream she introduced her husband, 
 who is a true blue Union man, though she, like our- 
 selves, is a rank Rebel. Mr. Price, on' the eve of mak- 
 ing an immense fortune, was perfectly disconsolate 
 at the news. Every one was to be ruined ; starvation 
 would follow if the Confederates entered ; there was 
 never a more dismal, unhappy creature. Enchanted 
 at the news, I naturally asked if it were reliable. 
 " Perfectly ! Why, to prove how true, standing at the 
 door of this salon five minutes ago, I saw two young 
 ladies pass with Confederate flags, which they 
 flirted in the face of some Federal officers, unre- 
 buked!" Verily, thought I, something is about to 
 happen! Two days ago the girls who were "unre- 
 buked" this evening would have found themselves 
 in jail instead. 
 
 July ioth. 
 
 Shall I cry, faint, scream, or go off in hysterics? 
 Tell me which, quickly; for to doubt this news is fine 
 and imprisonment, and if I really believe it I would 
 
 394 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 certainly give way to my feelings and commit some 
 vagaries of the kind. My resolution is formed ! I will 
 do neither; I won't gratify the Yankees so much. I 
 have been banging at the piano until my fingers are 
 weary, and singing "The Secret through Life to be 
 Happy " until my voice is cracked ; I '11 stand on my 
 head if necessary, to prove my indifference ; but I '11 
 never believe this is true until it is confirmed by 
 stronger authority. 
 
 Day before yesterday came tidings that Vicks- 
 burg had fallen on the 4th inst. The "Era" poured 
 out extras, and sundry little popguns fizzled out 
 salutes. All who doubted the truth of the report and 
 were brave enough to say so were fined or impris- 
 oned; it has become a penal offense to doubt what 
 the "Era" says; so quite a number of arrests were 
 made. This morning it was followed up by the an- 
 nouncement of the capture of Port Hudson. The 
 guns are pealing for true, and the Yankees at head- 
 quarters may be seen skipping like lambs, for very 
 joy. And I still disbelieve! Skeptic! The first thing 
 I know that " Era" man will be coming here to con- 
 vert me! But I don't, can't, won't believe it! If it is 
 true, — but I find consolation in this faith : it is 
 either true, or not true, — if it is true, it is all for the 
 best, and if it is not true, it is better still. Whichever 
 it is, is for some wise purpose ; so it does not matter, 
 so we wait, pray, and believe. 
 
 395 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 5 o'clock, p.m. 
 
 I don't believe it? What am I crying about then? 
 It seems so hard! How the mighty are fallen ! Port 
 Hudson gone! Brother believes it. That is enough 
 for me. God bless him ! I cry hourly. He is so good 
 and considerate. He told me, "Name your friends, 
 and what can be done for them shall be attended to. 
 The prisoners will be sent here. Maybe I cannot do 
 much ; but food and clothing you shall have in abun- 
 dance for them when they arrive." God bless him for 
 his kindness! 
 
 dear, noble men! I am afraid to meet them; I 
 should do something foolish ; best take my cry out in 
 private now. May the Lord look down in pity on us! 
 Port Hudson does not matter so much; but these 
 brave, noble creatures! The "Era" says they had 
 devoured their last mule before they surrendered. 
 
 Saturday, July ioth, 10 o'clock p.m. 
 
 1 preach patience; but how about practice? I am 
 exasperated ! there is the simple fact. And is it not 
 enough? What a scene I have just witnessed! A 
 motley crew of thousands of low people of all colors 
 parading the streets with flags, torches, music, and 
 all other accompaniments, shouting, screaming, ex- 
 ulting over the fall of Port Hudson and Vicksburg. 
 The " Era " will call it an enthusiastic demonstration 
 of the loyal citizens of the city; we who saw it from 
 upper balconies know of what rank these "citizens" 
 were. We saw crowds of soldiers mixed up with the 
 
 396 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lowest rabble in the town, workingmen in dirty 
 clothes, newsboys, ragged children, negroes, and even 
 women walking in the procession, while swarms of 
 negroes and low white women elbowed each other in 
 a dense mass on the pavement. To see such crea- 
 tures exulting over our misfortune was enough to 
 make one scream with rage. One of their dozen trans- 
 parencies was inscribed with "A dead Confederacy." 
 Fools ! The flames are smouldering ! They will burst 
 out presently and consume you! More than half, 
 much more, were negroes. As they passed here they 
 raised a yell of "Down with the rebels!" that made 
 us gnash our teeth in silence. The Devil possessed 
 me. "O Miriam, help me pray the dear Lord that 
 their flag may burn!" I whispered as the torches 
 danced around it. And we did pray earnestly — so 
 earnestly that Miriam's eyes were tightly screwed 
 up; but it must have been a wicked prayer, for it 
 was not answered. 
 
 Dr. S has out a magnificent display of black 
 
 cotton grammatically inscribed with "Port Hudson 
 and Vicksburg is ours," garnished with a luminous 
 row of tapers, and, drunk on two bits' worth of lager 
 beer, he has been shrieking out all Union songs he 
 can think of with his horrid children until my tym- 
 panum is perfectly cracked. Miriam wants to offer 
 him an extra bottle of lager for the two places of 
 which he claims the monopoly. He would sell his 
 creed for less. Miriam is dying to ask him what he 
 has done with the Confederate uniform he sported 
 
 397 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 before the Yankees came. His son says they are all 
 Union men over there, and will "lemonate" (illu- 
 minate) to-night. A starving seamstress opposite has 
 stuck six tallow candles in her window; better put 
 them in her stomach! 
 
 And I won't believe Vicksburg has surrendered! 
 Port Hudson I am sure has fallen. Alas, for all hopes 
 of serving the brave creatures ! the rumor is that they 
 have been released on parole. Happily for them ; but 
 if it must go, what a blessed privilege it would have 
 been to aid or comfort them ! 
 
 Wednesday, July 15th. 
 
 It is but too true; both have fallen. All Port Hud- 
 son privates have been paroled, and the officers sent 
 here for exchange. Aye! Aye! I know some pri- 
 vates I would rather see than the officers! As yet, 
 only ten that we know have arrived. All are con- 
 fined in the Custom- House. Last evening crowds 
 surrounded the place. We did something dreadful, 
 Ada Peirce, Miriam, and I. We went down to the 
 confectionery; and unable to resist the temptation, 
 made a detour by the Custom-House in hope of 
 seeing one of our poor dear half-starved mule and rat 
 fed defenders. The crowd had passed away then ; but 
 what was our horror when we emerged from the river 
 side of the building and turned into Canal, to find the 
 whole front of the pavement lined with Yankees! 
 Our folly struck us so forcibly that we were almost 
 paralyzed with fear. However, that did not prevent 
 
 398 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 us from endeavoring to hurry past, though I felt as 
 though walking in a nightmare. Ada was brave 
 enough to look up at a window where several of our 
 prisoners were standing, and kept urging us to do 
 likewise. "Look! He knows you, Sarah! He has 
 called another to see you ! They both recognize you ! 
 Oh, look, please, and tell me who they are! They are 
 watching you still!" she would exclaim. But if my 
 own dear brother stood there, I could not have 
 raised my eyes; we only hurried on faster, with a 
 hundred Yankees eyes fixed on our flying steps. 
 
 My friend Colonel Steadman was one of the com- 
 missioners for arranging the terms of the capitula- 
 tion, I see. He has not yet arrived. 
 
 Dreadful news has come of the defeat of Lee at 
 Gettysburg. Think I believe it all? He may have 
 been defeated ; but not one of these reports of total 
 overthrow and rout do I credit. Yankees jubilant, 
 Southerners dismal. Brother, with principles on one 
 side and brothers on the other, is correspondingly 
 distracted. 
 
 Saturday, July 18th. 
 
 It may be wrong; I feel very contrite; but still I 
 cannot help thinking it is an error on the right side. 
 It began by Miriam sending Mr. Conn a box of 
 cigars when she was on Canal the other day, with a 
 note saying we would be delighted to assist him in 
 any way. Poor creature ! He wrote an answer which 
 breathed desolation and humility, under his present 
 
 399 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 situation, in every line. The cigars, an unexpected 
 kindness, had touched a tender cord evidently. He 
 said he had no friends, and would be grateful for our 
 assistance. 
 
 But before his answer arrived, yesterday morning 
 I took it into my head that Colonel Steadman was 
 also at the Custom-House, though his arrival had not 
 been announced, the Yankees declining to publish 
 any more names to avoid the excitement that fol- 
 lows. So Miriam and I prepared a lunch of chicken, 
 soup, wine, preserves, sardines, and cakes, to send 
 to him. And, fool-like, I sent a note with it. It only 
 contained the same offer of assistance ; and I would 
 not object to the town crier's reading it ; but it upset 
 Brother's ideas of decorum completely. He said 
 nothing to Miriam's, because that was first offense; 
 but yesterday he met Edmond, who was carrying 
 the basket, and he could not stand the sight of 
 another note. I wish he had read it! But he said he 
 would not assume such a right. So he came home 
 very much annoyed, and spoke to Miriam about it. 
 Fortunately for my peace of mind, I was swimming 
 in the bathtub in blissful unconsciousness, else I 
 should have drowned myself. He said, "I want you 
 both to understand that you shall have everything 
 you want for the prisoners. Subscribe any sum of 
 money, purchase any quantity of clothing, send all 
 the food you please, but, for God's sake, don't write 
 to them ! In such a place every man knows the other 
 has received a letter, and none know what it con- 
 
 400 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 tains. I cannot have my sisters' names in every- 
 body's mouth. Never do it again ! " All as kind and 
 as considerate for us as ever, and a necessary cau- 
 tion; I love him the better for it; but I was dismayed 
 for having rendered the reproof necessary. For three 
 hours I made the most hideous faces at myself and 
 groaned aloud over Brother's displeasure. He is so 
 good that I would rather bite my tongue off than 
 give him a moment's pain. Just now I went to him, 
 unable to keep silence any longer, and told him how 
 distressed I was to have displeased him about that 
 note. "Don't think any more about it, only don't 
 do it again, dear," was his answer. I was so grateful 
 to him for his gentleness that I was almost hurried 
 into a story. I began, " It is the first time — " when 
 I caught myself and said boldly, "No, it is not. 
 Colonel Steadman has written to me before, and I 
 have replied. But I promise to you it shall not occur 
 again if I can avoid it." He was satisfied with the 
 acknowledgment, and I was more than gratified 
 with his kindness. Yet the error must have been on 
 the right side! 
 
 Colonel Steadman wrote back his thanks by 
 Edmond, with heartfelt gratitude for finding such 
 friends in his adversity, and touching acknowledg- 
 ments of the acceptable nature of the lunch. His 
 brother and Colonel Lock were wounded, though 
 recovering, and he was anxious to know if I had yet 
 recovered. And that was all, except that he hoped 
 we would come to see him, and his thanks to Brother 
 
 401 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 for his kind message. Brother had sent him word by 
 one of the prisoners that though he was not ac- 
 quainted with him, yet as his sisters' friend he would 
 be happy to assist him if he needed money or cloth- 
 ing. There was no harm in either note, and though 
 I would not do it again, I am almost glad I let him 
 know he still had friends before Brother asked me 
 not to write. 
 
 And as yet we can't see them. A man was bayon- 
 eted yesterday for waving to them, even. It only 
 makes us the more eager to see them. We did see 
 some. Walking on Rampart Street with the Peirces 
 yesterday, in front of a splendid private house, we 
 saw sentinels stationed. Upon inquiry we learned 
 that General Gardiner and a dozen others were con- 
 fined there. Ada and Miriam went wild. If it had 
 not been for dignified Marie, and that model of pro- 
 priety, Sarah, there is no knowing but what they 
 would have carried the house by storm. We got 
 them by without seeing a gray coat, when they 
 vowed to pass back, declaring that the street was not 
 respectable on the block above. We had to follow. 
 So! there they all stood on the balcony above. We 
 thought we recognized General Gardiner, Major 
 Wilson, Major Spratley, and Mr. Dupre. Miriam 
 was sure she did ; but even when I put on a bold face, 
 and tried to look, something kept me from seeing; 
 so I had all the appearance of staring, without 
 deriving the slightest benefit from it. Wonder what 
 makes me such a fool? 
 
 402 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Mr. Conn writes that Captain Bradford is 
 wounded, but does not say whether he is here. 
 
 Thursday, July 23d. 
 
 It is bad policy to keep us from seeing the prison- 
 ers; it just sets us wild about them. Put a creature 
 you don't care for in the least, in a situation that 
 commands sympathy, and nine out of ten girls will 
 fall desperately in love. Here are brave, self-sacri- 
 ficing, noble men who have fought heroically for us, 
 and have been forced to surrender by unpropitious 
 fate, confined in a city peopled by their friends and 
 kindred, and as totally isolated from them as though 
 they inhabited the Dry Tortugas! Ladies are natu- 
 rally hero-worshipers. We are dying to show these 
 unfortunates that we are as proud of their bravery 
 as though it had led to victory instead of defeat. 
 Banks wills that they remain in privacy. Conse- 
 quently our vivid imaginations are constantly occu- 
 pied in depicting their sufferings, privations, hero- 
 ism, and manifold virtues, until they have almost 
 become as demigods to us. Even horrid little Cap- 
 tain C has a share of my sympathy in his 
 
 misfortune ! Fancy what must be my feelings where 
 those I consider as gentlemen are concerned! It is 
 all I can do to avoid a most tender compassion for a 
 very few select ones. Miriam and I are looked on 
 with envy by other young ladies because some 
 twenty or thirty of our acquaintance have already 
 arrived. To know a Port Hudson defender is con- 
 
 403 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary" 
 
 sidered as the greatest distinction one need desire. 
 If they would only let us see the prisoners once to 
 sympathize with, and offer to assist them, we would 
 never care to call on them again until they are liber- 
 ated. But this is aggravating. Of what benefit is it 
 to send them lunch after lunch, when they seldom 
 receive it? Colonel Steadman and six others, I am 
 sure, did not receive theirs on Sunday. We sent with 
 the baskets a number of cravats and some handker- 
 chiefs I had embroidered for the Colonel. 
 
 Brother should forbid those gentlemen writing, 
 too. Already a dozen notes have been received from 
 them, and what can we do? We can't tell them not to. 
 Miriam received a letter from Major Spratley this 
 morning, raving about the kindness of the ladies of 
 New Orleans, full of hope of future successes, and 
 vows to help deliver the noble ladies from the hands 
 of their oppressors, etc. It is a wonder that such a 
 patriotic effusion could be smuggled out. He kindly 
 assures us that not only those of our acquaintance 
 there, but all their brother officers, would be more 
 than happy to see us in their prison. Position of 
 affairs rather reversed since we last met! 
 
BOOK V 
 
 New Orleans, August, 1863. 
 Friday, 14th. 
 
 Doomed to be bored! To-night Miriam drags me 
 to a soiree musicale, and in the midst of my toilet, I 
 sit down with bare shoulders to scratch a dozen lines 
 in my new treasure which has been by me for three 
 days, untouched. I don't know what tempts me to 
 do it except perversity; for I have nothing to say. 
 
 I was in hopes that I would never have occasion to 
 refer to the disagreeable subject that occupied the 
 last pages of my old journal, but the hope proves 
 fallacious, and wherever I turn, the same subject is 
 renewed. So there is no longer any reason in waiting 
 until all mention can be avoided. Yesterday a little, 
 sly, snaky creature asked me if I knew " the Hero of 
 Port Hudson." "Yes," I said briefly. "Unmistak- 
 able! I see it in your face!" she remarked. "See 
 what?" "That you betray yourself. Do you know 
 that every one believes that you are engaged to 
 him?" In surprise I said no; such a thing had never 
 been mentioned before me until then. "Well! they 
 say so, and add, too, that you are to be married as 
 soon as the war is over." " ' They ' are paying me an 
 undeserved compliment," I returned. Where could 
 such a report have originated? Not certainly from 
 him, and not, most assuredly, from me. Where does 
 
 405 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Dame rumor spring from? He is a stranger here, and 
 I have never mentioned his name except to the Peirces, 
 who would no more report such a thing than I would 
 myself. I won't mind it if it does not reach his ears; 
 but what assurance have I that it will not? That 
 would be unpleasant! Why can't "they say" let 
 everybody settle their own affairs? 
 
 Here comes Miriam after me! What a bore! 
 What a bore! And she looks as though it was a 
 pleasure to go out! How I hate it! 
 
 Glancing up the page, the date strikes my eye. 
 What tempted me to begin it Friday? My dear Ada 
 would shiver and declare the blank pages were 
 reserved for some very painful, awful, uncomfort- 
 able record, or that "something" would happen 
 before the end of it. Nothing very exciting can 
 happen, except the restoration of peace; and to 
 bring that about, I would make a vow to write only 
 
 on Fridays. 
 
 Sunday, 16th. 
 
 Coming out of church this morning with Miriam, 
 a young lady ran up with an important air, as 
 though about to create a sensation. " I have a mes- 
 sage for you both," she said, fixing her eyes on mine 
 as though she sought something in them. "I visit 
 the prisoners frequently, you know, and day before 
 yesterday Captain Steadman requested me to beg 
 you to call, that he will not take a refusal, but en- 
 treated you to come, if it were only once." The fates 
 must be against me ; I had almost forgotten his exist- 
 
 406 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ence, and having received the same message fre- 
 quently from another, I thoughtlessly said, "You 
 mean Colonel, do you not?" Fortunately Miriam 
 asked the same question at the instant that I was 
 beginning to believe I had done something very 
 foolish. The lady looked at me with her calm, scru- 
 tinizing, disagreeable smile — a smile that had all 
 the unpleasant insinuations eyes and lips can con- 
 vey, a smile that looked like " I have your secret — 
 you can't deceive me" — and said with her piercing 
 gaze, " No, not the Colonel. He was very ill that day 
 (did you know it?) and could not see us. This was 
 really the Captain." "He is very kind," I stam- 
 mered, and suggested to Miriam that we had better 
 pass on. The lady was still eyeing me inquisitively. 
 Decidedly, this is unpleasant to have the reputation 
 of being engaged to a man that every girl is crazy 
 to win ! If one only cared for him, it would not be so 
 unpleasant; but under the circumstances, — ah cal 
 why don't they make him over to the young lady 
 whose father openly avows he would be charmed to 
 have him for a son-in-law? This report has cost me 
 more than one impertinent stare. The young ladies 
 think it a very enviable position. Let some of them 
 usurp it, then! 
 
 So the young lady, not having finished her exam- 
 ination, proposed to accompany us part of the way. 
 As a recompense, we were regaled with charming 
 little anecdotes about herself, and her visits. How 
 she had sent a delightful little custard to the Colonel 
 
 407 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 (here was a side glance at my demure face) and had 
 carried an autographic album in her last visit, and 
 had insisted on their inscribing their names, and 
 writing a verse or so. "How interesting!" was my 
 mental comment. "Can a man respect a woman 
 who thrusts him her album, begging for a compli- 
 ment the first time they meet? What fools they must 
 think us, if they take such as these for specimens of 
 the genus!" 
 
 Did we know Captain Lanier? Know him, no! 
 but how vividly his face comes before me when I 
 look back to that grand smash-up at Port Hudson, 
 when his face was the last I saw before being thrown, 
 and the first I recognized when I roused myself from 
 my stupor and found myself in the arms of the 
 young Alabamian. At the sound of his name, I fairly 
 saw the last ray of sunset flashing over his handsome 
 face, as I saw it then. No, I did not know him. He 
 had spoken to me, begging to be allowed to hold me, 
 and I had answered, entreating him not to touch 
 me, and that was all I knew of him ; but she did not 
 wait for the reply. She hurried on to say that she 
 had sent him a bouquet, with a piece of poetry, and 
 that he had been heard to exclaim, "How beauti- 
 ful!" on reading it. "And do you know," she con- 
 tinued, with an air that was meant to be charmingly 
 naif, but which was not very successful, as naivet§ 
 at twenty-nine is rather flat, "I am so much afraid 
 he thinks it original! I forgot to put quotation 
 marks, and it would be so funny in him to make the 
 
 408 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 mistake! For you know I have not much of the — 
 of that sort of thing about me — I am not a poet — 
 poetess, author, you know." Said Miriam in her 
 blandest tone, without a touch of sarcasm in her 
 voice, "Oh, if he has ever seen you, the mistake is 
 natural!" If I had spoken, my voice would have 
 carried a sting in it. So I waited until I could calmly 
 say, "You know him well, of course." "No, I never 
 saw him before!" she answered with a new outburst 
 
 of naivete. 
 
 Monday, August 24th. 
 
 A letter from Captain Bradford to Miriam. My 
 poor Adonis, that I used to ridicule so unmercifully, 
 what misfortunes have befallen him ! He writes that 
 during the siege at Port Hudson he had the top of 
 his ear shot off (wonder if he lost any of that beauti- 
 ful golden fleece yclept his hair?), and had the cap 
 of his knee removed by a shell, besides a third wound 
 he does not specify. Fortunately he is with kind 
 friends. And he gives news of Lydia, most accept- 
 able since such a time has elapsed since we heard 
 from her. . . . He says, "Tell Miss Sarah that the 
 last I saw of John, he was crossing the Mississippi in 
 a skiff, his parole in his pocket, his sweet little sister 
 by his side," (O you wretch! at it again!) "and 
 Somebody else in his heart." How considerate to 
 volunteer the last statement! Then followed half a 
 page of commendation for his bravery, daring, and 
 skill during the siege (the only kind word he ever 
 spoke of him, I dare say), all looking as though I 
 
 409 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 was to take it as an especial compliment to myself, 
 and was expected to look foolish, blush, and say 
 "Thanky" for it. As though I care! 
 
 Monday night. 
 
 I consider myself outrageously imposed upon! I 
 am so indignant that I have spent a whole evening 
 making faces at myself. "Please, Miss Sarah, look 
 natural ! " William petitions. " I never saw you look 
 cross before." Good reason! I never had more 
 cause! However, I stop in the midst of a hideous 
 grimace, and join in a game of hide the switch with 
 the children to forget my annoyance. 
 
 Of course a woman is at the bottom of it. Last 
 night while Ada and Marie were here, a young lady 
 whose name I decline to reveal for the sake of the 
 sex, stopped at the door with an English officer, and 
 asked to see me in the entry. I had met her once 
 before. Remember this, for that is the chief cause 
 of my anger. Of course they were invited in ; but she 
 declined, saying she had but a moment, and had a 
 message to deliver to me alone, so led me apart. 
 "Of course you know who it is from?" she began. I 
 told a deliberate falsehood, and said no, though I 
 guessed instantly. She told me the name then. She 
 had visited the prison the day before, and there had 
 met the individual whose name, joined to mine, has 
 given me more trouble and annoyance during the 
 last few months than it would be possible to men- 
 tion. "And our entire conversation was about you," 
 
 410 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 she said, as though to flatter my vanity immensely. 
 He told her then that he had written repeatedly 
 to me, without receiving an answer, and at last had 
 written again, in which he had used some expressions 
 which he feared had offended my reserved disposi- 
 tion. Something had made me angry, for without 
 returning letter or message to say I was not dis- 
 pleased, I had maintained a resolute silence, which 
 had given him more pain and uneasiness than he 
 could say. That during all this time he had had no 
 opportunity of explaining it to me, and that now he 
 begged her to tell me that he would not offend me 
 for worlds — that he admired me more than any one 
 he had ever met, that he could not help saying what 
 he did, but was distressed at offending me, etc. The 
 longest explanation! And she was directed to beg 
 me to explain my silence, and let him know if I was 
 really offended, and also leave no entreaty or argu- 
 ment untried to induce me to visit the prison; he 
 must see me. 
 
 As to visiting the prison, I told her that was im- 
 possible. (0 how glad I am that I never did !) But 
 as to the letters, told her "to assure him that I had 
 not thought of them in that light, and had passed 
 over the expressions he referred to as idle words it 
 would be ridiculous to take offense at; and that my 
 only reason for persevering in this silence had been 
 that Brother disapproved of my writing to gentle- 
 men, and I had promised that I would not write to 
 him. That I had feared he would misconstrue my 
 
 411 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 silence, and had wished to explain it to him, but I 
 had no means of doing so except by breaking my 
 promise; and so had preferred leaving all explana- 
 tion to time, and some future opportunity." 
 
 "But you did not mean to pain him, did you?" 
 the dear little creature coaxingly lisped, standing 
 on tiptoe to kiss me as she spoke. I assured her that 
 I had not. "He has been dangerously ill," she con- 
 tinued, apologizingly, "and sickness has made him 
 more morbid and more unhappy about it than he 
 would otherwise have been. It has distressed him a 
 great deal." 
 
 I felt awkwardly. How was it that this girl, meet- 
 ing him for the first and only time in her life, had 
 contrived to learn so much that she had no right to 
 know, and appeared here as mediator between two 
 who were strangers to her, so far usurping a place 
 she was not entitled to, as to apologize to me for his 
 sensitiveness, and to entreat me to tell him he had 
 not forfeited my esteem, as though she was his most 
 intimate friend, and I a passing acquaintance? Fail- 
 ing to comprehend it, I deferred it to a leisure mo- 
 ment to think over, and in the mean time exerted 
 myself to be affable. 
 
 I can't say half she spoke of, but as she was going 
 she said, "Then will you give me permission to say 
 as many sweet things for you as I can think of? I 'm 
 going there to-morrow." I told her I would be afraid 
 to give her carte blanche on such a subject; but that 
 she would really oblige me by explaining about the 
 
 412 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 letters. She promised, and after another kiss, and a 
 few whispered words, left me. 
 
 Maybe she exaggerated, though! Uncharitable 
 as the supposition was, it was a consolation. I was 
 unwilling to believe that any one who professed to 
 esteem me would make me the subject of conversa- 
 tion with a stranger — and such a conversation! 
 So my comfort was only in hoping that she had re- 
 lated a combination of truth and fiction, and that 
 he had not been guilty of such folly. 
 
 Presently it grew clearer to me. I must be grow- 
 ing in wickedness, to fathom that of others, I who so 
 short a time ago disbelieved in the very existence of 
 such a thing. I remembered having heard that the 
 young lady and her family were extremely anxious 
 to form his acquaintance, and that her cousin had 
 coolly informed Ada that she had selected him 
 among all others, and meant to have him for a' ' beau ' ' 
 as soon as she could be introduced to him ; I remem- 
 bered that the young lady herself had been very 
 anxious to discover whether the reputation common 
 report had given me had any foundation. 
 
 As soon as we were alone, I told mother of our 
 conversation in the entry, and said, "And now I am 
 certain that this girl has made use of my name to 
 become acquainted with him." 
 
 Thursday, ioth September. 
 my prophetic soul! part of your forebodings are 
 already verified ! And in what an unpleasant way ! 
 
 4i3 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Day before yesterday an English officer, not the 
 one who came here, but one totally unknown to me, 
 said at Mrs. Peirce's he was going to visit the Con- 
 federate prisoners. He was asked if he knew any. 
 Slightly, he said ; but he was going this time by re- 
 quest ; he had any quantity of messages to deliver to 
 
 Colonel from Miss Sarah Morgan. "How can 
 
 that be possible, since you are not acquainted with 
 her? " Ada demanded. He had the impudence to say 
 that the young lady I have already mentioned had 
 requested him to deliver them for her, since she 
 found it impossible. Fortunately for me, I have two 
 friends left. Feeling the indelicacy of the thing, and 
 knowing that there must be some mistake that might 
 lead to unpleasant consequences, Ada and Marie, 
 my good angels, insisted on hearing the messages. 
 At first he refused, saying that they were entrusted 
 to him confidentially; but being assured that they 
 were really intimate with me, whereas the other was 
 a perfect stranger, and that I would certainly not 
 object to their hearing what I could tell a gentle- 
 man, he yielded, fortunately for my peace of mind, 
 and told all. 
 
 I can't repeat it. I was too horrified to hear all, 
 when they told me. What struck me as being most 
 shocking was my distorted explanation about the 
 letters. It now set forth that I was not allowed to 
 write myself, but would be happy to have him write 
 to me ; then there was an earnest assurance that my 
 feelings toward him had not changed in the least — 
 
 414 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Here I sprang from my chair and rushed to the 
 window for a breath of air, wringing my hands in 
 speechless distress. How a word more or less, an 
 idea omitted or added, a syllable misplaced, can 
 transform a whole sentence, and make what was 
 before harmless, really shocking! 
 
 And if it had not been for Ada and Marie — ! 
 Blessed angels ! they entreated him not to deliver any 
 of his messages, insisting that there must be a mis- 
 take, that if he knew me he would understand that 
 it was impossible for me to have sent such a message 
 by a stranger. And although at first he declared he 
 felt obliged to discharge the task imposed on him, 
 they finally succeeded in persuading him to relin- 
 quish the errand, promising to be responsible for the 
 consequences. 
 
 "Ah me!" I gasped last night, making frantic 
 grimaces in the dark, and pinching myself in dis- 
 gust, "why can't they let me alone? . . . O women — 
 women! I wish he could marry all of you, so you 
 would let me alone! Take him, please; but en grdce 
 don't disgrace me in the excitement of the race!" 
 
 Friday, 25th. 
 
 Write me down a witch, a prophetess, or what 
 you will. I am certainly something! All has come 
 to pass on that very disagreeable subject very much 
 as I feared. Perhaps no one in my position would 
 speak freely on the subject; for that very reason I 
 shall not hesitate to discuss it. 
 
 415 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Know, then, that this morning, He went North 
 along with many other Confederate prisoners, to be 
 exchanged. And he left — he who has written so 
 incessantly and so imploringly for me to visit his 
 prison — he left without seeing me. Bon! Wonder 
 what happened? 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I have learned more. He has not yet left ; part of 
 the mystery is unraveled, only I have neither pa- 
 tience nor desire to seek for more. These women — ! 
 Hush! to slander is too much like them; be 
 yourself. 
 
 My sweet little lisper informed a select circle of 
 friends the other night, when questioned, that the 
 individual had not called on me, and, what was more, 
 would not do so. "Pray, how do you happen to be 
 so intimately acquainted with the affairs of two who 
 are strangers to you?" asked a lady present. She 
 declined saying how she had obtained her informa- 
 tion, only asserting that it was so. "In fact, you 
 cannot expect any Confederate gentleman to call at 
 the house of Judge Morgan, a professed Unionist," 
 she continued. So that is the story she told to keep 
 him from seeing me. She has told him that we had 
 turned Yankees! All her arts would not grieve me 
 as much as one word against Brother. My wrongs 
 I can forget ; but one word of contempt for Brother I 
 never forgive! White with passion I said to my in- 
 
 416 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 formant, "Will you inform the young lady that her 
 visit will never be returned, that she is requested not 
 to repeat hers, and that I decline knowing any one 
 who dares cast the slightest reflection on the name of 
 one who has been both father and brother to me!" 
 This evening I was at a house where she was an- 
 nounced. Miriam and I bade our hostess good- 
 evening and left without speaking to her. Anybody 
 but Brother! No one shall utter his name before me 
 save with respect and regard. 
 
 This young woman's father is a Captain in the 
 Yankee navy, and her brother is a Captain in the 
 Yankee army, while three other brothers are in the 
 Confederate. Like herself, I have three brothers 
 fighting for the South ; unlike her, the only brother 
 who avows himself a Unionist has too much regard 
 for his family to take up arms against his own flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 Tuesday, October 6th. 
 
 I hope this will be the last occasion on which I 
 shall refer to the topic to which this unfortunate 
 book seems to have been devoted. But it gives me a 
 grim pleasure to add a link to the broken chain of the 
 curious story, now and then. Maybe some day the 
 missing links will be supplied me, and then I can 
 read the little humdrum romance of What might 
 have been, or What I 'm glad never was, as easily as 
 Marie tells her rosary. 
 
 Well! the prisoners have gone at last, to my 
 4i7 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 unspeakable satisfaction. Day before yesterday they 
 left. Now I can go out as I please, without fear of 
 meeting him face to face. How odd that I should feel 
 like a culprit! But that is in accordance with my 
 usual judgment and consistency. Friday, I had a 
 severe fright. Coming up Camp Street with Ada, 
 after a ramble on Canal, we met two Confederates. 
 Everywhere that morning we had met gray coats, 
 but none that I recognized. Still, without looking, 
 I saw through my eyelids, as it were, two hands 
 timidly touch two gray caps, as though the question 
 "May I?" had not yet been answered. In vain I 
 endeavored to meet their eyes, or give the faintest 
 token of greeting. I was too frightened and embar- 
 rassed to speak, and only by a desperate effort suc- 
 ceeded in bending my head in a doubtful bow, that 
 would have disgraced a dairy maid, after we had 
 passed. Then, disgusted with myself, I endeavored 
 to be comforted with the idea that they had perhaps 
 mistaken me for some one else ; that having known 
 me at a time when I was unable to walk, they could 
 have no idea of my height and figure, or walk. So I 
 reasoned, turning down a side street. Lo! at a re- 
 spectable distance they were following! We had 
 occasion to go into a daguerreau salon. While 
 standing in the light, two gray uniforms, watching 
 us from the dark recess at the door, attracted my 
 attention. Pointing them out to Ada, I hurried her 
 past them downstairs to the street. Faster and faster 
 we walked, until at the corner I turned to look. 
 
 418 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 There they were again, sauntering leisurely along. 
 We turned into another street, mingled in the 
 crowd, and finally lost sight of them. That fright 
 lasted me an hour or two. Whose purse have I 
 stolen, that I am afraid to look these men in the 
 face? 
 
 But what has this to do with what I meant to tell? 
 How loosely and disconnectedly my ideas run out 
 with the ink from my pen ! I meant to say how sorry 
 I am for my dear little lisper that she failed in her 
 efforts to conquer the "Hero"; and here I have 
 drifted off in a page of trash that does not concern 
 her in the least. Well ! she did not succeed, and what- 
 ever she told him was told in vain, as far as she was 
 concerned. He was not to be caught! What an 
 extraordinary man ! Dozens fighting for the prefer- 
 ence, and he in real, or pretended ignorance. 
 
 I must do him the justice to say he is the most 
 guileless, as well as the most honest of mortals. He 
 told the mother of a rich and pretty daughter what 
 he thought of me ; that my superior did not exist on 
 earth, and my equal he had never met. Ha! ha! this 
 pathetic story makes me laugh in spite of myself. Is 
 it excess of innocence, or just a r61e he adopted? 
 Stop! His idle word is as good as an oath. He could 
 not pretend to what he did not believe. He told her 
 of his earnest and sincere admiration — words ! 
 words! hurry on! She asked how it was then — ? 
 Here he confessed, with a mixture of pride and peni- 
 tence, that he had written me letters which abso- 
 
 419 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 lutely required answers, and to which I had never 
 deigned to reply by even a word. That, mortified 
 beyond measure at my silent contempt, he had 
 tried every means of ascertaining the cause of my 
 coldness, but I had never vouchsafed an answer, 
 but had left him to feel the full force of my harsh 
 treatment without one word of explanation. That 
 when he was paroled, he had hoped that I would see 
 him to tell him wherein he had forfeited my esteem ; 
 but I had not invited him to call, and mortified and 
 repulsed as he had been, it was impossible for him to 
 call without my permission. . . . Did my little lisper 
 change the message when the little midshipman told 
 her it had been intercepted because too friendly? I 
 know she met this martyred Lion frequently after 
 that and had many opportunities of telling him the 
 simple truth, but she evidently did not. 
 
 He has gone away with sorely wounded feelings, 
 to say nothing more; for that I am sincerely sorry; 
 but I trust to his newly acquired freedom, and his 
 life of danger and excitement, to make him forget 
 the wrongs he believes himself to have suffered at 
 my hands. If it was all to be gone through again 
 (which thank Heaven, I will never be called upon to 
 endure again), I would follow Brother's advice as 
 implicitly then as I did before. He is right, and 
 without seeing, I believe. They tell me of his altered 
 looks, and of his forced, reckless gaiety which, so 
 strangely out of keeping with his natural character, 
 but makes his assumed part more conspicuous. No 
 
 420 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 matter! He will recover ! Nothing like a sea voyage 
 for disorders of all kinds. And we will never meet 
 again; that is another consolation. 
 
 " Notice : The public are hereby informed through 
 
 Mrs. , Chief Manager of the Theatre of High 
 
 Tragedy, that Miss Sarah M., having been proved 
 unworthy and incompetent to play the r61e of 
 Ariadne, said part will hereafter be filled by Miss 
 Blank, of Blank Street, who plays it with a fidelity 
 so true to nature that she could hardly be surpassed 
 by the original." 
 
 Monday, November 9th. 
 Another odd link of the old, stale story has come 
 to me, all the way from New York. A friend of mine, 
 who went on the same boat with the prisoners, wrote 
 to her mother to tell her that she had formed the 
 acquaintance of the most charming, fascinating 
 gentleman among them, no other than my once 
 friend. Of course, she would have been less than a 
 woman if she had not gossiped when she discovered 
 who he was. So she sends me word that he told her 
 he had been made to believe, as long as he was on 
 parole in New Orleans, that we were all Unionists 
 now, and that Brother would not allow a Confeder- 
 ate to enter the house. (O my little lisper, was I 
 unjust to you?) He told her that I had been very 
 kind to him when he was in prison, and he would 
 have forgotten the rest and gladly have called to 
 thank me in person for the kindness he so gratefully 
 
 421 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 remembered, if I alone had been concerned; but he 
 felt he could not force himself unasked into my 
 brother's house. . . . 
 She told him how false it was. 
 
 Sunday, November 22d. 
 A report has just reached us that my poor dear 
 Gibbes has been taken prisoner along with the rest 
 of Hayes's brigade. 
 
 November 26th. 
 Yes! It is so, if his own handwriting is any proof. 
 Mr. Appleton has just sent Brother a letter he had 
 received from Gibbes, asking him to let Brother 
 know he was a prisoner, and we have heard, through 
 some one else, that he had been sent to Sandusky. 
 Brother has applied to have him paroled and sent 
 here, or even imprisoned here, if he cannot be 
 paroled. 
 
 Monday, November 30th. 
 Our distress about Gibbes has been somewhat 
 relieved by good news from Jimmy. The jolliest 
 sailor letter from him came this morning, dated 
 only the 4th instant from Cherbourg, detailing his 
 cruise on the Georgia from leaving England, to 
 Bahia, Trinidad, Cape of Good Hope, to France 
 again. Such a bright, dashing letter! We laughed 
 extravagantly over it when he told how they readily 
 evaded the Vanderbilt, knowing she would knock 
 
 422 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 them into "pie"; how he and the French Captain 
 quarreled when he ordered him to show his papers, 
 and how he did not know French abuse enough to 
 enter into competition with him, so went back a 
 first and second time to Maury when the man would 
 not let him come aboard, whereupon Maury brought 
 the ship to with two or three shots and Jimmy made 
 a third attempt, and forced the Frenchman to show 
 his papers. He tells it in such a matter-of-fact way ! 
 No extravagance, no idea of having been in a danger- 
 ous situation, he a boy of eighteen, on a French ship 
 in spite of the Captain's rage. What a jolly life it 
 must be! Now dashing in storms and danger, now 
 floating in sunshine and fun ! Wish I was a midship- 
 man ! Then how he changes, in describing the prize 
 with an assorted cargo that they took, which con- 
 tained all things from a needle to pianos, from the 
 reckless spurt in which he speaks of the plundering, 
 to where he tells of how the Captain, having died 
 several days before, was brought on the Georgia 
 while Maury read the service over the body and con- 
 signed it to the deep by the flames of the dead man's 
 own vessel. What noble, tender, manly hearts it 
 shows, those rough seamen stopping in their work of 
 destruction to perform the last rites over their dead 
 enemy. One can fancy their bare heads and sun- 
 burned faces standing in solemn silence around the 
 poor dead man when he dropped into his immense 
 grave. God bless the "pirates"! 
 
 423 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Thursday night, December 31st, 1863. 
 The last of eighteen sixty- three is passing away as 
 I write. . . . Every New Year since I was in my 
 teens, I have sought a quiet spot where I could whis- 
 per to myself Tennyson's "Death of the Old Year," 
 and even this bitter cold night I steal into my freez- 
 ing, fireless little room, en robe de nuit, to keep up my 
 old habit while the others sleep. . . . 
 
 "Old year, you shall not die; 
 We did so laugh and cry with you, 
 I 've half a mind to die with you, 
 Old year, if you must die." 
 
 No ! Go and welcome ! Bring Peace and brighter 
 days, O dawning New Year. Die, faster and faster, 
 Old One ; I count your remaining moments with al- 
 most savage glee. 
 
 Wednesday, February 3d. 
 
 Last night we were thrown into the most violent 
 state of commotion by the unexpected entrance of 
 Captain Bradford. He has been brought here a 
 prisoner, from Asphodel, where he has been ever 
 since the surrender of Port Hudson, and taking 
 advantage of his tri-weekly parole, his first visit was 
 naturally here, as he has no other friends. 
 
 Poor creature, how he must have suffered! The 
 first glance at his altered face where suffering and 
 passion have both left their traces unmistakably 
 since we last met, and the mere sight of his poor lame 
 leg, filled my heart with compassion. 
 
 424 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 How he hates Mr. Halsey ! I could not forego the 
 pleasure of provoking him into a discussion about 
 him, knowing how they hated each other. He would 
 not say anything against him; understand, that as a 
 gentleman and a companion, Mr. Halsey was his 
 warmest and best friend; there was no one he ad- 
 mired more; but he must say that as a soldier, he 
 was the worst he had ever seen — not that he was 
 not as brave and gallant a man as ever lived, but he 
 neglected his duties most shamefully while visiting 
 Linwood so constantly, eluding the sentinels daily as 
 he asked for neither pass nor permission, and con- 
 sulting only his inclinations instead of his superior 
 officers or his business. And that last night at Lin- 
 wood, when he absented himself without leave, why 
 could he not have signified to him, his Captain, that 
 he wished to say good-bye, instead of quietly doing 
 as he pleased? When the Colonel sent for a report of 
 the number of men, quantity of forage and ammuni- 
 tion, etc., and it was discovered that John Halsey 
 was absent without leave, with the books locked up 
 and the keys in his pocket — even after this lapse of 
 time, the fire flashed through the ice as the Captain 
 spoke. Sergeant Halsey, I am sorry for you when 
 you reported yourself next day! All the fun that 
 could have been crowded into an evening at Linwood 
 could not have repaid you for the morning's scene. 
 And after all, what was it beyond very empty pleas- 
 ure, with a great deal of laughter? He could have 
 dispensed with it just as well. Looking back, I con- 
 
 425 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 gratulate myself on being the only one who did not 
 ask him to stay. 
 
 5th. 
 
 Not dead! not dead! O my God! Gibbes is not 
 dead! Where — O dear God! Another? 
 
 Only a few days ago came a letter so cheerful and 
 hopeful — we have waited and prayed so patiently 
 — at my feet lies one from Colonel Steadman saying 
 he is dead. Dead! Suddenly and without a moment's 
 warning summoned to God ! No ! it cannot be ! I am 
 mad! O God, have mercy on us! My poor mother! 
 And Lydia! Lydia! God comfort you! My brain 
 seems afire. Am I mad? Not yet! God would not 
 take him yet! He will come again! Hush, God is 
 good! Not dead ! not dead ! 
 
 O Gibbes, come back to us! 
 
 nth. 
 O God, O God, have mercy on us! George is 
 dead ! Both in a week. George, our sole hope — our 
 sole dependence. 
 
 March. 
 Dead! Dead! Both dead! O my brothers! What 
 have we lived for except you? We, who would have 
 so gladly laid down our lives for yours, are left 
 desolate to mourn over all we loved and hoped for, 
 weak and helpless; while you, so strong, noble, 
 and brave, have gone before us without a murmur. 
 
 426 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 God knows best. But it is hard — O so hard ! to give 
 them up. . . . 
 
 If we had had any warning or preparation, this 
 would not have been so unspeakably awful. But to 
 shut one's eyes to all dangers and risks, and drown 
 every rising fear with "God will send them back; I 
 will not doubt His mercy," and then suddenly to 
 learn that your faith has been presumption — and 
 God wills that you shall undergo bitter affliction — it 
 is a fearful awakening! What glory have we ever 
 rendered to God that we should expect him to be 
 so merciful to us? Are not all things His, and is not 
 He infinitely more tender and compassionate than 
 we deserve? 
 
 We have deceived ourselves wilfully about both. 
 After the first dismay on hearing of Gibbes's cap- 
 ture, we readily listened to the assertions of our 
 friends that Johnson's Island was the healthiest place 
 in the world ; that he would be better off, comfort- 
 ably clothed and under shelter, than exposed to shot 
 and shell, half fed, and lying on the bare ground 
 during Ewell's winter campaign. We were thankful 
 for his safety, knowing Brother would leave nothing 
 undone that could add to his comfort. And besides 
 that, there was the sure hope of his having him 
 paroled. On that hope we lived all winter — now 
 confident that in a little while he would be with us, 
 then again doubting for a while, only to have the 
 hope grow surer afterwards. And so we waited and 
 prayed, never doubting he would come at last. He 
 
 427 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 himself believed it, though striving not to be too 
 hopeful lest he should disappoint us, as well as him- 
 self. Yet he wrote cheerfully and bravely to the last. 
 Towards the middle of January, Brother was sure 
 of succeeding, as all the prisoners had been placed 
 under Butler's control. Ah me! How could we be 
 so blind? We were sure he would be with us in a 
 few weeks! I wrote to him that I had prepared 
 his room. 
 
 On the 30th of January came his last letter, ad- 
 dressed to me, though meant for Lavinia. It was 
 dated the 12th — the day George died. All his let- 
 ters pleaded that I would write more frequently — 
 he loved to hear from me; so I had been writing to 
 him every ten days. On the 3d of February I sent 
 my last. Friday the 5th, as I was running through 
 Miriam's room, I saw Brother pass the door, and 
 heard him ask Miriam for mother. The voice, the 
 bowed head, the look of utter despair on his face, 
 struck through me like a knife. "Gibbes! Gibbes!" 
 was my sole thought; but Miriam and I stood mo- 
 tionless looking at each other without a word. 
 "Gibbes is dead," said mother as he stood before her. 
 He did not speak; and then we went in. 
 
 We did not ask how, or when. That he was dead 
 was enough for us. But after a while he told us Uncle 
 James had written that he had died at two o'clock 
 on Thursday the 21st. Still we did not know how he 
 had died. Several letters that had been brought re- 
 mained unopened on the floor. One, Brother opened, 
 
 428 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 hoping to learn something more. It was from Colonel 
 Steadman to Miriam and me, written a few hours 
 after his death, and contained the sad story of our 
 dear brother's last hours. 
 
 He had been in Colonel Steadman 's ward of the 
 hospital for more than a week, with headache and 
 sore throat, but it was thought nothing; he seemed 
 to improve, and expected to be discharged in a few 
 days. On the 21st he complained that his throat 
 pained him again. After prescribing for him, and 
 talking cheerfully with him for some time, Colonel 
 Steadman left him surrounded by his friends, to 
 attend to his other patients. He had hardly reached 
 his room when some one ran to him saying Captain 
 Morgan was dying. He hurried to his bedside, and 
 found him dead. Captain Steadman, sick in the next 
 bed, and those around him, said he had been talking 
 pleasantly with them, when he sat up to reach his 
 cup of water on the table. As soon as he drank it he 
 seemed to suffocate; and after tossing his arms 
 wildly in the air, and making several fearful efforts 
 to breathe, he died. 
 
 "Hush, mother, hush," I said when I heard her 
 cries. "We have Brother and George and Jimmy 
 left, and Lydia has lost all ! " Heaven pity us ! George 
 had gone before — only He in mercy kept the knowl- 
 edge of it from us for a while longer. 
 
 On Thursday the nth, as we sat talking to 
 mother, striving to make her forget the weary days 
 
 429 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 we had cried through with that fearful sound of 
 "Dead! Dead!" ringing ever in our ears, some one 
 asked for Miriam. She went down, and presently I 
 heard her thanking somebody for a letter. ' ' You could 
 not have brought me anything more acceptable! It 
 is from my sister, though she can hardly have heard 
 from us yet!" I ran back, and sitting at mother's 
 feet, told her Miriam was coming with a letter from 
 Lydia. Mother cried at the mention of her name. O 
 my little sister ! You know how dear you are to us ! 
 "Mother! Mother!" a horrible voice cried, and be- 
 fore I could think who it was, Miriam rushed in, 
 holding an open letter in her hand, and perfectly 
 wild. ' ' George is dead ! " she shrieked, and fell heavily 
 to the ground. 
 
 O my God! I could have prayed Thee to take 
 mother, too, when I looked at her. I thought — I 
 almost hoped she was dead, and that pang spared ! 
 But I was wild myself. I could have screamed ! — 
 laughed! "It is false! Do you hear me, mother? 
 God would not take both! George is not dead!" I 
 cried, trying in vain to arouse her from her horrible 
 state or bring one ray of reason to her eye. I spoke to 
 a body alive only to pain ; not a sound of my voice 
 seemed to reach her; only fearful moans showed she 
 was yet alive. 
 
 Miriam lay raving on the ground. Poor Miriam! 
 her heart's idol torn away. God help my darling! I 
 did not understand that George could die until I 
 looked at her. In vain I strove to raise her from the 
 
 430 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 ground, or check her wild shrieks for death. "George ! 
 only George!" she would cry; until at last, with the 
 horror of seeing both die before me, I mastered 
 strength enough to go for the servant and bid her run 
 quickly for Brother. 
 
 How long I stood there alone, I never knew. I 
 remember Ada coming in hurriedly and asking 
 what it was. I told her George was dead. It was a 
 relief to see her cry. I could not; but I felt the pain 
 afresh, as though it were her brother she was cry- 
 ing over, not mine. And the sight of her tears 
 brought mine, too. We could only cry over mother 
 and Miriam ; we could not rouse them ; we did not 
 know what to do. 
 
 Some one called me in the entry. I went, not 
 understanding what I was doing. A lady came to me, 
 told me her name, and said something about George; 
 but I could not follow what she said. It was as though 
 she was talking in a dream. I believe she repeated 
 the words several times, for at last she shook me and 
 said, "Listen! Rouse yourself! the letter is about 
 George!" Yes, I said; he is dead. She said I must 
 read the letter; but I could not see, so she read it 
 aloud. It was from Dr. Mitchell, his friend who was 
 with him when he died, telling of his sickness and 
 death. He died on Tuesday the 12th of January, 
 after an illness of six days, conscious to the last and 
 awaiting the end as only a Christian, and one who 
 has led so beautiful a life, could, with the Grace of 
 God, look for it. He sent messages to his brothers 
 
 43i 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 and sisters, and bade them tell his mother his last 
 thoughts were of her, and that he died trusting in 
 the mercy of the Saviour. George! our pride! our 
 beautiful, angel brother! Could he die? Surely God 
 has sent all these afflictions within these three years 
 to teach us that our hopes must be placed Above, 
 and that it is blasphemy to have earthly idols ! 
 
 The letter said that the physicians had mistaken 
 his malady, which was inflammation of the bowels, 
 and he had died from being treated for something 
 else. It seemed horrible cruelty to read me that 
 part ; I knew that if mother or Miriam ever heard of 
 it, it would kill them. So I begged Mrs. Mitchell 
 never to let them hear of it. She seemed to think 
 nothing of the pain it would inflict; how could she 
 help telling if they asked? she said. I told her I must 
 insist on her not mentioning it; it would only add 
 suffering to what was already insupportable ; if they 
 asked for the letter, offer to read it aloud, but say 
 positively that she would not allow any one to touch 
 it except herself, and then she might pass it over in 
 silence. I roused Miriam then and sent her to hear it 
 read. She insisted on reading it herself, and half 
 dead with grief held out her hands, begging piteously 
 to be suffered to read it alone. I watched then until 
 I was sure Mrs. Mitchell would keep her promise. 
 Horrible as I knew it to be from strange lips, I knew 
 by what I experienced that I had saved her from a 
 shock that might cost her her life; and then I went 
 back to mother. 
 
 432 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 No need to conceal what I felt there ! She neither 
 spoke nor saw. If I had shrieked that he died of ill 
 treatment, she would not have understood. But I 
 sat there silently with that horrible secret, wondering 
 if God would help me bear it, or if despair would 
 deprive me of self-control and force me presently to 
 cry it aloud, though it should kill them both. 
 
 At last Brother came. I had to meet him down- 
 stairs and tell him. God spare me the sight of a 
 strong man's grief! Then Sister came in, knowing 
 as little as he. Poor Sister! I could have blessed her 
 for every tear she shed. It was a comfort to see some 
 one who had life or feeling left. I felt as though the 
 whole world was dead. Nothing was real, nothing 
 existed except horrible speechless pain. Life was a 
 fearful dream through which but one thought ran — 
 "Dead — Dead!" 
 
 Miriam had been taken to her room more dead 
 than alive — Mother lay speechless in hers. The 
 shock of this second blow had obliterated, with them, 
 all recollection of the first. It was a mercy I envied 
 them; for I remembered both, until loss of con- 
 sciousness would have seemed a blessing. I shall 
 never forget mother's shriek of horror when towards 
 evening she recalled it. O those dreadful days of 
 misery and wretchedness! It seems almost sacrilege 
 to refer to them now. They are buried in our hearts 
 with our boys — thought of with prayers and tears. 
 
 How will the world seem to us now? What will life 
 be without the boys? When this terrible strife is 
 
 433 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 over, and so many thousands return to their homes, 
 what will peace bring us of all we hoped? Jimmy! 
 Dear Lord, spare us that one! 
 
 November 2d, 1864. 
 
 This morning we heard Jimmy is engaged to Helen 
 Trenholm, daughter of the Secretary of the Confed- 
 erate States. He wrote asking Brother's consent, 
 saying they had been engaged since August, though 
 he had had no opportunity of writing until that day 
 — the middle of September. I cried myself blind. It 
 seems that our last one is gone. But this is the first 
 selfish burst of feeling. Later I shall come to my 
 senses and love my sister that is to be. But my dar- 
 ling! my darling! O Jimmy! How can I give you 
 up? You have been so close to me since Harry died! 
 
 Alone now; best so. 
 
 No. 19 Dauphine St., 
 Saturday night, December 31st, 1864. 
 
 One year ago, in my little room in the Camp Street 
 house, I sat shivering over Tennyson and my desk, 
 selfishly rejoicing over the departure of a year that 
 had brought pain and discomfort only to me, and 
 eagerly welcoming the dawning of the New One 
 whose first days were to bring death to George and 
 Gibbes, and whose latter part was to separate me 
 from Miriam, and brings me news of Jimmy's 
 approaching marriage. sad, dreary, fearful Old 
 Year! I see you go with pain! Bitter as you have 
 
 434 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 been, how do we know what the coming one has in 
 store for us? What new changes will it bring? Which 
 of us will it take? I am afraid of eighteen sixty-five, 
 and have felt a vague dread of it for several years past. 
 Nothing remains as it was a few months ago. 
 Miriam went to Lilly, in the Confederacy, on the 
 19th of October (ah! Miriam!), and mother and I 
 have been boarding with Mrs. Postlethwaite ever 
 since. I miss her sadly. Not as much, though, as I 
 would were I less engaged. For since the first week 
 in August, I have been teaching the children for 
 Sister; and since we have been here, I go to them 
 every morning instead of their coming to me. Start- 
 ing out at half-past eight daily, and returning a little 
 before three, does not leave me much time for melan- 
 choly reflections. And there is no necessity for 
 indulging in them at present; they only give pain. 
 
 No. 211 Camp St., 
 April 19th, 1865. 
 
 "All things are taken from us, and become por- 
 tions and parcels of the dreadful pasts." . . . 
 
 Thursday the 13th came the dreadful tidings of the 
 surrender of Lee and his army on the 9th. Every- 
 body cried, but I would not, satisfied that God will 
 still save us, even though all should apparently be 
 lost. Followed at intervals of two or three hours 
 by the announcement of the capture of Richmond, 
 Selma, Mobile, and Johnston's army, even the stanch- 
 est Southerners were hopeless. Every one proclaimed 
 
 435 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 Peace, and the only matter under consideration was 
 whether Jeff Davis, all politicians, every man above 
 the rank of Captain in the army and above that of 
 Lieutenant in the navy, should be hanged imme- 
 diately, or some graciously pardoned. Henry Ward 
 Beecher humanely pleaded mercy for us, supported 
 by a small minority. Davis and all leading men must 
 be executed ; the blood of the others would serve to 
 irrigate the country. Under this lively prospect, 
 Peace, blessed Peace! was the cry. I whispered, 
 14 Never ! Let a great earthquake swallow us up first ! 
 Let us leave our land and emigrate to any desert 
 spot of the earth, rather than return to the Union, 
 even as it Was!" 
 
 Six days this has lasted. Blessed with the 
 silently obstinate disposition, I would not dispute, 
 but felt my heart swell, repeating, " God is our refuge 
 and our strength, a very present help in time of 
 trouble," and could not for an instant believe this 
 could end in an overthrow. 
 
 This morning, when I went down to breakfast at 
 seven, Brother read the announcement of the assas- 
 sination of Lincoln and Secretary Seward. 
 
 "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." 
 This is murder! God have mercy on those who 
 did it! 
 
 Charlotte Corday killed Marat in his bath, and is 
 held up in history as one of Liberty's martyrs, and 
 one of the heroines of her country. To me, it is all 
 
 436 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 murder. Let historians extol blood-shedding; it is 
 woman's place to abhor it. And because I know that 
 they would have apotheosized any man who had 
 crucified Jeff Davis, I abhor this, and call it foul mur- 
 der, unworthy of our cause — and God grant it was 
 only the temporary insanity of a desperate man that 
 committed this crime! Let not his blood be visited 
 on our nation, Lord! 
 
 Across the way, a large building, undoubtedly 
 inhabited by officers, is being draped in black. Im- 
 mense streamers of black and white hang from the 
 balcony. Downtown, I understand, all shops are 
 closed, and all wrapped in mourning. And I hardly 
 dare pray God to bless us, with the crape hanging 
 over the way. It would have been banners, if our 
 President had been killed, though ! 
 
 Saturday, 22d April. 
 To see a whole city draped in mourning is certainly 
 an imposing spectacle, and becomes almost grand 
 when it is considered as an expression of universal 
 affliction. So it is, in one sense. For the more vio- 
 lently "Secesh " the inmates, the more thankful they 
 are for Lincoln's death, the more profusely the houses 
 are decked with the emblems of woe. They all look 
 to me like "not sorry for him, but dreadfully grieved 
 to be forced to this demonstration." So all things 
 have indeed assumed a funereal aspect. Men who 
 have hated Lincoln with all their souls, under terror 
 of confiscation and imprisonment which they under- 
 
 437 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 stand is the alternative, tie black crape from every 
 practicable knob and point to save their homes. Last 
 
 evening the B s were all in tears, preparing their 
 
 mourning. What sensibility! What patriotism! a 
 stranger would have exclaimed. But Bella's first 
 remark was: "Is it not horrible? This vile, vile old 
 crape! Think of hanging it out when — " Tears of 
 rage finished the sentence. One would have thought 
 pity for the murdered man had very little to do with 
 it. 
 
 Coming back in the cars, I had a rencontre that 
 makes me gnash my teeth yet. It was after dark, 
 and I was the only lady in a car crowded with gentle- 
 men. I placed little Miriam on my lap to make room 
 for some of them, when a great, dark man, all in 
 black, entered, and took the seat and my left hand 
 at the same instant, saying, "Good-evening, Miss 
 Sarah." Frightened beyond measure to recognize 
 Captain Todd 1 of the Yankee army in my interlocu- 
 tor, I, however, preserved a quiet exterior, and with- 
 out the slightest demonstration answered, as though 
 replying to an internal question. "Mr. Todd." "It 
 is a long while since we met," he ventured. "Four 
 years," I returned mechanically. "You have been 
 well?" "My health has been bad." "I have been 
 ill myself"; and determined to break the ice he 
 diverged with "Baton Rouge has changed sadly." 
 " I hope I shall never see it again. We have suffered 
 too much to recall home with any pleasure." "I 
 
 1 A cousin of Mrs. Lincoln. 
 438 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 understand you have suffered severely," he said, 
 glancing at my black dress. "We have yet one left 
 in the army, though," I could not help saying. He, 
 too, had a brother there, he said. 
 
 He pulled the check-string as we reached the 
 house, adding, "This is it," and absurdly correcting 
 himself with "Where do you live?" — "211. I thank 
 you. Good-evening"; the last with emphasis as he 
 prepared to follow. He returned the salutation, and I 
 hurriedly regained the house. Monsieur stood over 
 the way. A look through the blinds showed him 
 returning to his domicile, several doors below. 
 
 I returned to my own painful reflections. The Mr. 
 Todd who was my "sweetheart" when I was twelve 
 and he twenty-four, who was my brother's friend, 
 and daily at our home, was put away from among our 
 acquaintance at the beginning of the war. This one, 
 I should not know. Cords of candy and mountains 
 of bouquets bestowed in childish days will not make 
 my country's enemy my friend now that I am a 
 woman. 
 
 Tuesday, May 2d, 1865. 
 While praying for the return of those who have 
 fought so nobly for us, how I have dreaded their 
 first days at home! Since the boys died, I have con- 
 stantly thought of what pain it would bring to see 
 their comrades return without them — to see families 
 reunited, and know that ours never could be again, 
 save in heaven. Last Saturday, the 29th of April, 
 
 439 
 
A Confederate Girl's Diary 
 
 seven hundred and fifty paroled Louisianians from 
 Lee's army were brought here — the sole survivors 
 of ten regiments who left four years ago so full of 
 hope and determination. On the 29th of April, 1861, 
 George left New Orleans with his regiment. On the 
 fourth anniversary of that day, they came back; but 
 George and Gibbes have long been lying in their 
 graves. . . . 
 
 June 15th. 
 Our Confederacy has gone with one crash — the 
 report of the pistol fired at Lincoln. 
 
 THE END 
 
Reading this for the first time, in all these many 
 years, I wish to bear record that God never failed me, 
 through stranger vicissitudes than I ever dared re- 
 cord. Whatever the anguish, whatever the extrem- 
 ity, in His own good time He ever delivered me. So 
 that I bless Him to-day for all of life's joys and sor- 
 rows — for all He gave — for all He has taken — 
 and I bear witness that it was all Very Good. 
 
 Sarah Morgan Dawson. 
 
 July 23d, 1896. 
 Charleston, 
 South Carolina. 
 
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 U . S . A 
 
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