Famous Adventures and Prison Escapes of the Civil War | Page 4

the daily paper of the dismissal of Miss
G. from her place as teacher for expressing abolition sentiments, and
that she would be ordered to leave the city. Soon a lady came with a
paper setting forth that she has established a "company"--we are
nothing if not military--for making lint and getting stores of linen to
supply the hospitals.
My name went down. If it hadn't, my spirit would have been wounded
as with sharp spears before night. Next came a little girl with a
subscription paper to get a flag for a certain company. The little girls,
especially the pretty ones, are kept busy trotting around with
subscription lists. Latest of all came little Guy, Mr. F.'s youngest clerk,
the pet of the firm as well as of his home, a mere boy of sixteen. Such
senseless sacrifices seem a sin. He chattered brightly, but lingered
about, saying good-by. He got through it bravely until Edith's husband
incautiously said, "You didn't kiss your little sweetheart," as he always
called Ellie, who had been allowed to sit up. He turned and suddenly
broke into agonizing sobs and then ran down the steps.
May 10.--I am tired and ashamed of myself. Last week I attended a

meeting of the lint society to hand in the small contribution of linen I
had been able to gather. We scraped lint till it was dark. A paper was
shown, entitled the "Volunteer's Friend," started by the girls of the high
school, and I was asked to help the girls with it. I positively declined.
To-day I was pressed into service to make red flannel cartridge-bags for
ten-inch columbiads. I basted while Mrs. S. sewed, and I felt ashamed
to think that I had not the moral courage to say, "I don't approve of
your war and won't help you, particularly in the murderous part of it."
May 27.--This has been a scenic Sabbath. Various companies about to
depart for Virginia occupied the prominent churches to have their flags
consecrated. The streets were resonant with the clangor of drums and
trumpets. E. and myself went to Christ Church because the Washington
Artillery were to be there.
June 13.--To-day has been appointed a Fast Day. I spent the morning
writing a letter on which I put my first Confederate postage-stamp. It is
of a brown color and has a large 5 in the center. To-morrow must be
devoted to all my foreign correspondents before the expected blockade
cuts us off.
June 29.--I attended a fine luncheon yesterday at one of the public
schools. A lady remarked to a school official that the cost of provisions
in the Confederacy was getting very high, butter, especially, being
scarce and costly. "Never fear, my dear madam," he replied. "Texas
alone can furnish butter enough to supply the whole Confederacy; we'll
soon be getting it from there." It's just as well to have this sublime
confidence.
July 15.--The quiet of midsummer reigns, but ripples of excitement
break around us as the papers tell of skirmishes and attacks here and
there in Virginia. "Rich Mountain" and "Carrick's Ford" were the last.
"You see," said Mrs. D. at breakfast to-day, "my prophecy is coming
true that Virginia will be the seat of war." "Indeed," I burst out,
forgetting my resolution not to argue, "you may think yourselves lucky
if this war turns out to have any seat in particular."
So far, no one especially connected with me has gone to fight. How

glad I am for his mother's sake that Rob's lameness will keep him at
home. Mr. F., Mr. S., and Uncle Ralph are beyond the age for active
service, and Edith says Mr. D. can't go now. She is very enthusiastic
about other people's husbands being enrolled, and regrets that her Alex
is not strong enough to defend his country and his rights.
July 22.--What a day! I feel like one who has been out in a high wind,
and cannot get my breath. The newsboys are still shouting with their
extras, "Battle of Bull's Run! List of the killed! Battle of Manassas! List
of the wounded!" Tender-hearted Mrs. F. was sobbing so she could not
serve the tea; but nobody cared for tea. "O G.!" she said, "three
thousand of our own, dear Southern boys are lying out there." "My dear
Fannie," spoke Mr. F., "they are heroes now. They died in a glorious
cause, and it is not in vain. This will end it. The sacrifice had to be
made, but those killed have gained immortal names." Then Rob rushed
in with a new extra, reading of the spoils captured, and grief was
forgotten. Words cannot paint the excitement. Rob capered about and
cheered; Edith danced around ringing the dinner-bell and shouting,
"Victory!" Mrs. F. waved a small Confederate flag,