ionship of six months, and of dangers, trials, and pleasures
shared together, is over.

_Oak Ridge, July 26, Saturday._--It was not till Wednesday that H. could
get into Vicksburg, ten miles distant, for a passport, without which we
could not go on the cars. We started Thursday morning. I had to ride
seven miles on a hard-trotting horse to the nearest station. The day was
burning at white heat. When the station was reached my hair was down,
my hat on my neck, and my feelings were indescribable.

On the train one seemed to be right in the stream of war, among
officers, soldiers, sick men and cripples, adieus, tears, laughter,
constant chatter, and, strangest of all, sentinels posted at the locked
car doors demanding passports. There was no train south from Jackson
that day, so we put up at the Bowman House. The excitement was
indescribable. All the world appeared to be traveling through Jackson.
People were besieging the two hotels, offering enormous prices for the
privilege of sleeping anywhere under a roof. There were many refugees
from New Orleans, among them some acquaintances of mine. The peculiar
styles of [women's] dress necessitated by the exigencies of war gave the
crowd a very striking appearance. In single suits I saw sleeves of one
color, the waist of another, the skirt of another; scarlet jackets and
gray skirts; black waists and blue skirts; black skirts and gray waists;
the trimming chiefly gold braid and buttons, to give a military air. The
gray and gold uniforms of the officers, glittering between, made up a
carnival of color. Every moment we saw strange meetings and partings of
people from all over the South. Conditions of time, space, locality, and
estate were all loosened; everybody seemed floating he knew not whither,
but determined to be jolly, and keep up an excitement. At supper we had
tough steak, heavy, dirty-looking bread, Confederate coffee. The coffee
was made of either parched rye or corn-meal, or of sweet potatoes cut in
small cubes and roasted. This was the favorite. When flavored with
"coffee essence," sweetened with sorghum, and tinctured with chalky
milk, it made a curious beverage which, after tasting, I preferred not
to drink. Every one else was drinking it, and an acquaintance said, "Oh,
you'll get bravely over that. I used to be a Jewess about pork, but now
we just kill a hog and eat it, and kill another and do the same. It's
all we have."

Friday morning we took the down train fo