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 cooperate 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. C