Famous Adventures and Prison Escapes of the Civil War | Page 5

while she wiped
her eyes, and Mr. D. hastened to the piano and in his most brilliant
style struck up "Dixie," followed by "My Maryland" and the "Bonnie
Blue Flag."
"Do not look so gloomy, G.," whispered Mr. S. "You should be happy
to-night; for, as Mr. F. says, now we shall have peace."
"And is that the way you think of the men of your own blood and
race?" I replied. But an utter scorn came over me and choked me, and I
walked out of the room. What proof is there in this dark hour that they
are not right? Only the emphatic answer of my own soul. To-morrow I
will pack my trunk and accept the invitation to visit at Uncle Ralph's
country house.
Sept. 25.--When I opened the door of Mrs. F.'s room on my return, the
rattle of two sewing-machines and a blaze of color met me.
"Ah, G., you are just in time to help us; these are coats for Jeff
Thompson's men. All the cloth in the city is exhausted; these

flannel-lined oil-cloth table-covers are all we could obtain to make
overcoats for Thompson's poor boys. They will be very warm and
serviceable."
"Serviceable--yes! The Federal army will fly when they see those coats!
I only wish I could be with the regiment when these are shared around."
Yet I helped make them.
Seriously, I wonder if any soldiers will ever wear these remarkable
coats--the most bewildering combination of brilliant, intense reds,
greens, yellows, and blues in big flowers meandering over as vivid
grounds; and as no table-cover was large enough to make a coat, the
sleeves of each were of a different color and pattern. However, the
coats were duly finished. Then we set to work on gray pantaloons, and I
have just carried a bundle to an ardent young lady who wishes to assist.
A slight gloom is settling down, and the inmates here are not quite so
cheerfully confident as in July.

IV
A BELEAGUERED CITY
Oct. 22.--When I came to breakfast this morning Rob was capering
over another victory--Ball's Bluff. He would read me, "We pitched the
Yankees over the bluff," and ask me in the next breath to go to the
theater this evening. I turned on the poor fellow. "Don't tell me about
your victories. You vowed by all your idols that the blockade would be
raised by October 1, and I notice the ships are still serenely anchored
below the city."
"G., you are just as pertinacious yourself in championing your opinions.
What sustains you when nobody agrees with you?"
Oct. 28.--When I dropped in at Uncle Ralph's last evening to welcome
them back, the whole family were busy at a great center-table copying
sequestration acts for the Confederate Government. The property of all
Northerners and Unionists is to be sequestrated, and Uncle Ralph can

hardly get the work done fast enough. My aunt apologized for the
rooms looking chilly; she feared to put the carpets down, as the city
might be taken and burned by the Federals. "We are living as much
packed up as possible. A signal has been agreed upon, and the instant
the army approaches we shall be off to the country again."
Great preparations are being made for defense. At several other places
where I called the women were almost hysterical. They seemed to look
forward to being blown up with shot and shell, finished with cold steel,
or whisked off to some Northern prison. When I got home Edith and
Mr. D. had just returned also.
"Alex," said Edith, "I was up at your orange-lots to-day, and the sour
oranges are dropping to the ground, while they cannot get lemons for
our sick soldiers."
"That's my kind, considerate wife," replied Mr. D.
"Why didn't I think of that before? Jim shall fill some barrels
to-morrow and take them to the hospitals as a present from you."
Nov. 10.--Surely this year will ever be memorable to me for its
perfection of natural beauty. Never was sunshine such pure gold, or
moonlight such transparent silver. The beautiful custom prevalent here
of decking the graves with flowers on All Saints' day was well fulfilled,
so profuse and rich were the blossoms. On All-hallow eve Mrs. S. and
myself visited a large cemetery. The chrysanthemums lay like great
masses of snow and flame and gold in every garden we passed, and
were piled on every costly tomb and lowly grave. The battle of
Manassas robed many of our women in mourning, and some of those
who had no graves to deck were weeping silently as they walked
through the scented avenues.
A few days ago Mrs. E. arrived here. She is a widow, of Natchez, a
friend of Mrs. F.'s, and is traveling home with