riends here and there in the
Confederacy. One of these letters tells of a Federal raid and says, "But
the worst thing was, they would take every tooth-brush in the house,
because we can't buy any more; and one cavalry man put my sister's new
bonnet on his horse, and said 'Get up, Jack,' and her bonnet was gone."

_Feb. 25th, 1863_.--A long gap in my journal, because H. has been ill unto
death with typhoid fever. I nearly broke down from loss of sleep, there
being no one to relieve me. It was terrible to be alone at night with a
patient in delirium, and no one within call. To wake Martha was simply
impossible. I got the best doctor here, but when convalescence began the
question of food was a trial. I got with great difficulty two chickens.
The doctor made the drug-store sell two of their six bottles of port; he
said his patient's life depended on it. An egg is a rare and precious
thing. Meanwhile the Federal fleet has been gathering, has anchored at the
bend, and shells are thrown in at intervals.

_March 20th_.--The slow shelling of Vicksburg goes on all the time, and we
have grown indifferent. It does not at present interrupt or interfere with
daily avocations, but I suspect they are only getting the range of
different points; and when they have them all complete, showers of shot
will rain on us all at once. Non-combatants have been ordered to leave or
prepare accordingly. Those who are to stay are having caves built.
Cave-digging has become a regular business; prices range from twenty to
fifty dollars, according to size of cave. Two diggers worked at ours a
week and charged thirty dollars. It is well made in the hill that slopes
just in the rear of the house, and well propped with thick posts, as they
all are. It has a shelf, also, for holding a light or water. When we went
in this evening and sat down, the earthy, suffocating feeling, as of a
living tomb, was dreadful to me. I fear I shall risk death outside rather
then melt in that dark furnace. The hills are so honeycombed with caves
that the streets look like avenues in a cemetery. The hill called the
Sky-parlor has become quite a fashionable resort for the few upper-circle
families left here. Some officers are quartered there, and there is a band
and a field-glass. Last evening we also climbed the hill to watch the
shelling, but found the view not so good as on a quiet hill nearer home.
Soon a lady began to talk to one of the officers: "It is such folly for
them