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

costumes, 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 breakfast table, a

guerrilla told us the ram Arkansas was lying a few miles below, on her

way to coöperate with Breckinridge, whose advance guard had already

driven the pickets into Baton Rouge. Then we all grew wild with

excitement.

Such exclamations! such delight that the dreadful 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

horseback, 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.

While there, a young man came up, and in answer to Phillie's inquiries

about her father--who, having 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!"

"Listen!" "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 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 Noémie. 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 by them, in hopes of hurting a guerrilla or

two. Noémie 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. Noémie, 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 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 distance. 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

Garrison 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 humanity, 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, 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 standing 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 knapsacks 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 his opinion that it was impossible to fight her with any

hope of success under such circumstances, and advised 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.

[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF A PAGE FROM THE DIARY]

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 undershirt. 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 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 picturesque 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 unusual 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 concerned; but they were disheartened

about their boat. One threw himself down near my feet, saying, "_Me

voilà._ I have saved my gun, _et puis_ the clothes that I stand in!"

and laughed as though it were an excellent joke. One who had been on

the Merrimac chiefly regretted the loss of the commission appointing

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 mention 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 quarters 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

discharge 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 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 shouldered 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 _didn't_ 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 victory, were

they not still fighting for us? Were we the less grateful when they met

with reverse? Oh, didn'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 prevent! 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

attack 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 destination. Besides, coming from Jimmy's mother, he could

not have been hurt. But when I got down, 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!"--whereupon he sprang to his

feet and grasped the hilt as though about to commence. Then came other

officers; Mr. Scales, Mr. Barblaud, etc., who smiled recognition,

stopped the wagon as Phillie handed up a plate of bread and meat, and

talked gayly as they divided it, until the Captain rode up. "On,

gentlemen! 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 driving 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 gunboats.

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.

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 morning 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

hundred against the Yankees' four thousand five hundred. There is no

truth in our having held the Garrison 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 attempted 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 10th, 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 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 parlor, 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 _émeute_ had subsided, determined 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 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 satisfy 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, nothing 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 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 inhabitants? 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, interrupted 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 least, knew what it was

as well as I, and determined 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 running-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 _mêlée_ 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! 'Tain'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, according 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 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 useless 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 11th.

I don't mean those ladies were, but that I am at present. I'll account

for it after I have disposed of the stampede. Imagine no interruption,

and continue--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 Walters 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

carelessness; indeed, I cannot imagine how it got there, for it was the

first thing I thought of. When I got back, there was no one to be seen

except Ginnie and two negroes who held our horses, and who disappeared

the instant we were mounted; with the exception 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 themselves. 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 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 distressing 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 embarrassed. 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 insisted 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 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 mistaken 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

gratified 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 negro 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 material 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 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

_échevelée_, 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.

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 ourselves 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 12th.

Another resting-place! Out of reach of shells for the first time since

last April! For how long, I wonder? For wherever we go, we bring shells

and Yankees. 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 finished, 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 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 Tête, 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

déshabillé_, 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 opportunity 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 (Nolan), 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 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 reproaches, 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. 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 unprotected--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 furniture 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 conveyance and came on to Mr.

Elder's, where we astonished 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 adventures 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.

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 containing 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 escaped 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, books, furniture, etc., that it contained; but I consoled

myself with the recollection of a large trunk packed in the most

scientific style, containing quantities 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! Nothing 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 service 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, I always opposed the burning of Baton

Rouge, as a useless piece of barbarism in turning out five thousand

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 greatest 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 inhabitants 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 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 kinsmen 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

unseen, 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

Florida Street; if so, we are lost, as that is a half-square below us.

For several days the fire has been burning, 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 against hope. I will not

believe it is burnt, until somebody 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" assuring her

she had only to choose what she wanted, and that they would have them

removed immediately. 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

accusation being brought against me of disloyalty.[8] One officer

departed with a fine velvet cloak on his arm; another took such a

bundle of Miss Jones's clothes, 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, O horror! Suppose, instead, they should let

in a piece of another color? That would annihilate me! Pshaw! I 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.

[8] The Act of July 16th, 1862, authorized the confiscation of

property only in the cases of rebels whose disloyalty was

established.--W. D.

August 19th.

Yesterday, two Colonels, Shields and Breaux, both of whom distinguished

themselves in the battle of Baton Rouge, dined here. Their personal

appearance 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 nervous trepidation with which I received

the dirty, 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 questions 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

embarrassment, 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 Anna Badger, Miriam, and I set off, 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 accompanied 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 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 advantage of the pause to tumble out, but we

sat still. Bogged, and it was very dark already! Wouldn'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 General'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, sounded rather shaky to me. I don't think any of us

felt like facing the elders; Miriam suggested anticipating 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 account 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!!!! Onolona,

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 21st.

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, Washington

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 surprised, 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, 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 destruction that reached

us. I would rather not believe that the Federal Government could be so

disgraced 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

Miriam'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 evacuated, and all had gone to New Orleans except three

gunboats that were preparing to shell, before leaving.

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 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

astonishing to see the number of Yankee canteens in the possession of

our men. Almost all those who fought at Baton Rouge are provided with

them. In their canvas 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 situation 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 discovered 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 abundantly, 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 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 without 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 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

"property," 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 acquainted! 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 country 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 everywhere. "Oh,

yes!" said monsieur, "but it is impossible 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 myself. 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 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, thinking 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 December 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---- _père_, 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 satisfaction. They lent him social backbone enough to

converse 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 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 Morgan," 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 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 portrait

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'll 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.

Upstairs was the finest fun. Mother's beautiful mahogany armoir, whose

single door was an extremely 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

handsome 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 débris 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.

[Illustration: SARAH FOWLER

Sully's portrait of Mrs. Morgan]

In the pillaging of the armoirs, they seized a pink 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 officer 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 crying, "Where are those damned Secesh women?

We know they are hid in here, and we'll 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 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, before Yankee shells complete

the work that Yankee 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'll 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 passing 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. Tuesday I was up at sunrise,

and my few preparations were soon completed, and before any one was

awake, 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

opposed to my going; and for some time I was afraid he would force me

to remain; but at last he consented,--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, 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 skeletons. 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 endurable. 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 husband was fighting for the Confederates; so the

wife 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 undertook 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 attempt such a

thing seemed absurd. I stood in the parlor in silent amazement; and in

answer to Charlie'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 officers had really come so low down as

to steal in such a wholesale manner. The _papier-maché_ 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 Annapolis 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, 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

regretted 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, together with the champagne glasses that had figured on

the table the day that I was born; but there remained nothing. There

was plenty of split-up furniture, 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. 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. Wonder 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 absurd; 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 surprised 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?[9] Many suffered along

with us, though none so severely. Indeed, the Yankees cursed loudly at

those who did not leave anything worth stealing. They cannot complain

of us, on that score. All our handsome 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.

[9] 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.

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

appreciation. 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, 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 graveyard; 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 servants were already settled, 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 off 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 choking. 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 was, that it came

to an end. I would have wished it to spin along until the war was over,

or we in a settled 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

interest 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 forlorn crew, while

waiting at the depot to get the baggage 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 emigrants 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

shallow water. The only one hurt was Tiche, who had her leg severely

sprained. The baggage was afterwards fished out, rather wet. In the mud

next morning (it happened late at night), Dophy found 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 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

solitude 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.

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. Outside, it has been

raining since daybreak, and inside, no one feels especially bright or

cheerful. I sometimes 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 cannot 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, perhaps;

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 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 consolation 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 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 frequently 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 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 blankets 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 picturing to herself what we may be doing,

and recalling 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'll stay with my

mistress," when Tiche shrewdly remarked, "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 neighborhood; 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, continuing 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 sometimes seems

more than half inclined, and Miriam goes to Linwood, 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 uncertainty, 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 following is a list of a few of the

articles that shopkeepers 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 existence. 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 inward 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 disappointed 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.

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, 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--coming 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 imagine 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 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 nondescript building, besides.

"'Twas ever thus from childhood's hour!" When did I ever fancy anything

exactly as it was? But the appearance does not affect the house, which

is really very comfortable, though apparently unfinished. The same

objection 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

Greenwell, 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 cannot 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 unhealthiness,

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 welcoming 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! 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 Brontë 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 tête-à-tête 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 compliment,

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. 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.

O 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 taking of the forts, and that was before the battle

of Chickahominy. We can only wait patiently. Perhaps 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 irreligious. 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, widespread 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 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 10th.

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 volunteered 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 _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 another, 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 Virginia, when the gunboats started from Bayou

Goula, shelling the coast at random, and destroying everything 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 nor reason.

Donaldsonville 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. Monday we came to town and spent the day with

Lilly. How it was, I can't say; but we came to the conclusion 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 Covington, 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 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 evacuate 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 having 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 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 Jackson 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....

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 cultivating 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 is

attacked, what will become of them with all those children?

Tuesday, September 16th.

Yesterday Miriam determined to go to Linwood, 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 disgrace 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 with a few here, that I could point out, our gnat

of common sense would be swallowed by this behemoth of heterodoxy.

This morning Mrs. Bar, Miss Bernard, and a Miss Mud came to town and

surprised us by a most unexpected 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.