were delayed by Aunt Judy falling sick of swamp fever.

_Friday, June 27._--As soon as the cook was up again, we resumed
preparations. We put all the clothing in order and had it nicely done up
with the last of the soap and starch. "I wonder," said Annie, "when I
shall ever have nicely starched clothes after these? They had no starch in
Natchez or Vicksburg when I was there." We are now furbishing up dresses
suitable for such rough summer travel. While we sat at work yesterday the
quiet of the clear, calm noon was broken by a low, continuous roar like
distant thunder. To-day we are told it was probably cannon at Vicksburg.
This is a great distance, I think, to have heard it--over a hundred miles.

H. and Max have bought a large yawl and are busy on the lake bank
repairing it and fitting it with lockers. Aunt Judy's master has been
notified when to send for her; a home for the cat Jeff has been engaged;
Price is dead, and Sancho sold. Nearly all the furniture is disposed of,
except things valued from association, which will be packed in H.'s office
and left with some one likely to stay through the war. It is hardest to
leave the books.

_Tuesday, July 8, 1862._--We start to-morrow. Packing the trunks was a
problem. Annie and I are allowed one large trunk apiece, the gentlemen a
smaller one each, and we a light carpet-sack apiece for toilet articles. I
arrived with six trunks and leave with one! We went over everything
carefully twice, rejecting, trying to shake off the bonds of custom and
get down to primitive needs. At last we made a judicious selection.
Everything old or worn was left; everything merely ornamental, except good
lace, which was light. Gossamer evening dresses were all left. I
calculated on taking two or three books that would bear the most reading
if we were again shut up where none could be had, and so, of course, took
Shakspere first. Here I was interrupted to go and pay a farewell visit,
and when we returned Max had packed and nailed the cases of books to be
left. Chance thus limited my choice to those that happened to be in my
room--"Paradise Lost," the "Arabian Nights," a volume of Macaulay's
History that I was reading, and my prayer-book. To-day the provisions for
the trip were cooked: the last of the flour was made into large loaves of
bread; a ham and several dozen eggs were boiled; the few chickens that
have survived the overflow were fried; the last of the coffee was parched
and ground; and t