rally. For all of which I
cry, "Vivent pen, ink, and paper!" and add with regret, "Adieu, my
mental Conductor. I fear this unchained lightning will strike
somewhere, in your absence!"

BOOK II

"I hope to die shouting, the Lord will provide!"

Monday, June 16th, 1862.

There is no use in trying to break off journalizing, particularly in
"these trying times." It has become a necessity to me. I believe I
should go off in a rapid decline if Butler took it in his head to
prohibit that among other things.... I reserve to myself the privilege
of writing my opinions, since I trouble no one with the expression of
them.... I insist, that if the valor and chivalry of our men cannot
save our country, I would rather have it conquered by a brave race than
owe its liberty to the Billingsgate oratory and demonstrations of some
of these "ladies." If the women have the upper hand then, as they have
now, I would not like to live in a country governed by such tongues. Do
I consider the female who could spit in a gentleman's face, merely
because he wore United States buttons, as a fit associate for me?
Lieutenant Biddle assured me he did not pass a street in New Orleans
without being most grossly insulted by _ladies_. It was a friend of his
into whose face a lady _spit_ as he walked quietly by without looking
at her. (Wonder if she did it to attract his attention?) He had the
sense to apply to her husband and give him two minutes to apologize or
die, and of course he chose the former.[6] Such things are enough to
disgust any one. "Loud" women, what a contempt I have for you! How I
despise your vulgarity!

[6] This passage was later annotated by Mrs. Dawson as follows:
"_Friend_ (Farragut). _Lady_ (I know her, alas!). _Husband_ (She
had none!)."

Some of these Ultra-Secessionists, evidently very recently from "down
East," who think themselves obliged to "kick up their heels over the
Bonny Blue Flag," as Brother describes female patriotism, shriek out,
"What! see those vile Northerners pass patiently! No true Southerner
could see it without rage. I could kill them! I hate them with all my
soul, the murderers, liars, thieves, rascals! You are no Southerner if
you do not hate them as much as I!" _Ah ca!_ a true-blue Yankee tell
me that I, born and bred here, am no Southerner! I always think, "It
is well for you, my friend, to save your credit, else you might be
suspec