al all
weapons. They have dug graves quietly at night in the back yards, and
carefully wrapping the weapons, buried them out of sight. Every man
seems to think he will have some private fighting to do to protect his
family.

V

MARRIED

_Friday, Jan. 24, 1862._ (_On Steamboat W., Mississippi River._)--With a
changed name I open you once more, my journal. It was a sad time to wed,
when one knew not how long the expected conscription would spare the
bridegroom. The women-folk knew how to sympathize with a girl expected
to prepare for her wedding in three days, in a blockaded city, and about
to go far from any base of supplies. They all rallied round me with
tokens of love and consideration, and sewed, shopped, mended, and
packed, as if sewing soldier clothes. And they decked the whole house
and the church with flowers. Music breathed, wine sparkled, friends came
and went. It seemed a dream, and comes up now again out of the afternoon
sunshine where I sit on deck. The steamboat slowly plows its way through
lumps of floating ice,--a novel sight to me,--and I look forward
wondering whether the new people I shall meet will be as fierce about
the war as those in New Orleans. That past is to be all forgotten and
forgiven; I understood thus the kindly acts that sought to brighten the
threshold of a new life.

_Feb. 15._ (_Village of X._)--We reached Arkansas Landing at nightfall.
Mr. Y., the planter who owns the landing, took us right up to his
residence. He ushered me into a large room where a couple of candles
gave a dim light, and close to them, and sewing as if on a race with
Time, sat Mrs. Y. and a little negro girl, who was so black and sat so
stiff and straight she looked like an ebony image. This was a large
plantation; the Y.'s knew H. very well, and were very kind and cordial
in their welcome and congratulations. Mrs. Y. apologized for continuing
her work; the war had pushed them this year in getting the negroes
clothed, and she had to sew by dim candles, as they could obtain no more
oil. She asked if there were any new fashions in New Orleans.

Next morning we drove over to our home in this village. It is the
county-seat, and was, till now, a good place for the practice of H.'s
profession. It lies on the edge of a lovely lake. The adjacent planters
count their slaves by the hundreds. Some of them live with a good deal
of magnificence, using service of plate, having smoking-rooms for the
gentlemen built