may feel sure danger will soon be over. Vicksburg will surrender on the
4th."

"Is that so, general?" inquired H. "Are arrangements for surrender made?"

"We know nothing of the kind. Vicksburg will not surrender."

"Those were General Grant's exact words, sir," said the flag-officer. "Of
course it is nothing but their brag."

We went back sadly enough, but to-day H. says he will cross the river to
General Porter's lines and try there; I shall not be disappointed.

_July 3d, 1863._--H. was going to headquarters for the requisite pass, and
he saw General Pemberton crawling out of a cave, for the shelling has been
as hot as ever. He got the pass, but did not act with his usual caution,
for the boat he secured was a miserable, leaky one--a mere trough. Leaving
Martha in charge, we went to the river, had our trunks put in the boat,
and embarked; but the boat became utterly unmanageable, and began to fill
with water rapidly. H. saw that we could not cross it and turned to come
back; yet in spite of that the pickets at the battery fired on us. H.
raised the white flag he had, yet they fired again, and I gave a cry of
horror that none of these dreadful things had wrung from me. I thought H.
was struck. When we landed H. showed the pass, and said that the officer
had told him the battery would be notified we were to cross. The officer
apologized and said they were not notified. He furnished a cart to get us
home, and to-day we are down in the cellar again, shells flying as thick
as ever. Provisions are so nearly gone, except the hogshead of sugar, that
a few more days will bring us to starvation indeed. Martha says rats are
hanging dressed in the market for sale with mule meat,--there is nothing
else. The officer at the battery told me he had eaten one yesterday. We
have tried to leave this Tophet and failed, and if the siege continues I
must summon that higher kind of courage--moral bravery--to subdue my fears
of possible mutilation.

XV.

GIBRALTAR FALLS.

_July 4th, 1863_.--It is evening. All is still. Silence and night are once
more united. I can sit at the table in the parlor and write. Two candles
are lighted. I would like a dozen. We have had wheat supper and wheat
bread once more. H. is leaning back in the rocking-chair; he says:

"G., it seems to me I can hear the silence, and feel it too. It wraps me
like a soft garment; how else can I express this peace?"

But I must write the history of the last