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,