until ordered to mount the carts waiting at the door,
which are to carry them too away. How disappointed the Yankees will be
at finding only white girls instead of their dear sisters and brothers
whom they love so tenderly! Sorry for their disappointment!

"They say" they are advancing in overwhelming numbers. That is nothing,
so long as God helps us, and from our very souls we pray His blessing
on us in this our hour of need. For myself, I cannot yet fully believe
they are coming. It would be a relief to have it over. I have taken the
responsibility of Lydia's jewelry on my shoulders, and hope to be able
to save it in the rush which will take place. Down at the cars Miriam
met Frank Enders, going to Clinton in charge of a car full of
Yankees,--deserters, who came into our lines. He thinks, just as I do,
that our trunks are safer here than there. Now that they are all off,
we all agree that it was the most foolish thing we could have done.
These Yankees interfere with all our arrangements.

I am almost ashamed to confess what an absurdly selfish thought
occurred to me a while ago. I was lamenting to myself all the troubles
that surround us, the dangers and difficulties that perplex us,
thinking of the probable fate that might befall some of our brave
friends and defenders in Port Hudson, when I thought, too, of the fun
we would miss. Horrid, was it not? But worse than that, I was longing
for something to read, when I remembered Frank told me he had sent
to Alexandria for Bulwer's "Strange Story" for me, and then I
unconsciously said, "How I wish it would get here before the Yankees!"
I am _very_ anxious to read it, but confess I am ashamed of having
thought of it at such a crisis. So I toss up the farthing Frank gave me
for a keepsake the other day, and say I'll try in future to think less
of my own comfort and pleasure.

Poor Mr. Halsey! What a sad fate the pets he procures for me meet! He
stopped here just now on his way somewhere, and sent me a curious
bundle with a strange story, by Miriam. It seems he got a little
flying-squirrel for me to play with (must know my partiality for pets),
and last night, while attempting to tame him, the little creature bit
his finger, whereupon he naturally let him fall on the ground,
(Temper!) which put a period to his existence. He had the nerve to skin
him after the foul murder, and sent all that remains of him out to me
to prove his original intention. The softest, longest, pret