inking 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 for the station near my friend's
house. At every station we had to go through the examination of passes, as
if in a foreign country.

The conscript camp was at Brookhaven, and every man had been ordered to
report there or to be treated as a deserter. At every station I shivered
mentally, expecting H. to be dragged off. Brookhaven was also the station
for dinner. I choked mine down, feeling the sword hanging over me by a
single hair. At sunset we reached our station. The landlady was pouring
tea when we took our seats and I expected a treat, but when I tasted it it
was sassafras tea, the very odor of which sickens me. There was a general
surprise when I asked to exchange it for a glass of water; every one was
drinking it as if it were nectar. This morning we drove out here.

My friend's little nest is calm in contrast to the tumult not far off.

Yet the trials of war are here too. Having no matches, they keep fire,
carefully covering it at night, for Mr. G. has no powder, and cannot flash
the gun into combustibles as some do. One day they had to go with the
children to the village, and the servant let the fire go out. When they
returned at nightfall, wet and hungry, there was neither fire nor food.
Mr. G. had to saddle the tired mule and ride three miles for a pan of
coals, and blow them, all the way back, to keep them alight. Crockery has
gradually been broken and tin-cups rusted out, and a visitor told me they
had made tumblers out of clear glass bottles by cutting them smooth with a
heated wire, and that they had nothing else to drink from.

_Aug. 11, 1862_.--We cannot get to New Orleans. A special passport must be
shown, and we are told that to apply for it would render H. very likely to
be conscripted. I begged him not to try; and as we hear that active
hostilities have ceased at Vicksburg, he left me this morning to return to
his uncle's and see what the prospects are there. I shall be in misery
about conscription till he returns.

_Sunday, Sept. 7_., (Vicksburg, Washington Hotel)--H. did not return for
three weeks. An epidemic disease broke out in his uncle's family and two
children died. He staid to assist them in their trouble. Tuesday evening
he returned for me and we reache