, and
came up the road as far as Mrs. Laura Perry's. I sat for an hour
expecting them, but they must have gone back. Oh, how I trust I am
safe! Mr. Ward is very much alarmed.

* * * * *

NOVEMBER 19, 1864.

Slept in my clothes last night, as I heard that the Yankees went to
neighbor Montgomery's on Thursday night at one o'clock, searched his
house, drank his wine, and took his money and valuables. As we were
not disturbed, I walked after breakfast, with Sadai, up to Mr. Joe
Perry's, my nearest neighbor, where the Yankees were yesterday. Saw
Mrs. Laura [Perry] in the road surrounded by her children, seeming to
be looking for some one. She said she was looking for her husband,
that old Mrs. Perry had just sent her word that the Yankees went to
James Perry's the night before, plundered his house, and drove off
all his stock, and that she must drive hers into the old fields.
Before we were done talking, up came Joe and Jim Perry from their
hiding-place. Jim was very much excited. Happening to turn and look
behind, as we stood there, I saw some blue-coats coming down the hill.
Jim immediately raised his gun, swearing he would kill them anyhow.

"No, don't!" said I, and ran home as fast as I could, with Sadai.

I could hear them cry, "Halt! Halt!" and their guns went off in quick
succession. Oh God, the time of trial has come!

A man passed on his way to Covington. I halloed to him, asking him if
he did not know the Yankees were coming.

"No--are they?"

"Yes," said I; "they are not three hundred yards from here."

"Sure enough," said he. "Well, I'll not go. I don't want them to get
my horse." And although within hearing of their guns, he would stop
and look for them. Blissful ignorance! Not knowing, not hearing, he
has not suffered the suspense, the fear, that I have for the past
forty-eight hours. I walked to the gate. There they came filing up.

I hastened back to my frightened servants and told them that they had
better hide, and then went back to the gate to claim protection and a
guard. But like demons they rush in! My yards are full. To my
smoke-house, my dairy, pantry, kitchen, and cellar, like famished
wolves they come, breaking locks and whatever is in their way. The
thousand pounds of meat in my smoke-house is gone in a twinkling, my
flour, my meat, my lard, butter, eggs, pickles of various kinds--both
in vinegar and brine--