mant made the mistake, unless, like me, it was
through hearing it repeated. Odious as I thought it then, I think it
wise now; for more than one man has lost his life through discussions
of the kind.

July 17th, Thursday.

It is decided that I am to go to New Orleans next week. I hardly know
which I dislike most, going or staying. I know I shall be dreadfully
homesick; but--

* * * * *

Remember--and keep quiet, Sarah, I beg of you. Everything points to an
early attack here. Some say this week. The Federals are cutting down
all our beautiful woods near the Penitentiary, to throw up breastworks,
some say. Cannon are to be planted on the foundation of Mr. Pike's new
house; everybody is in a state of expectation. Honestly, if Baton Rouge
_has_ to be shelled, I shall hate to miss the fun. It will be worth
seeing, and I would like to be present, even at the risk of losing my
big toe by a shell. But then, by going, I can save many of my clothes,
and then Miriam and I can divide when everything is burned--that is one
advantage, besides being beneficial by the change of air. _They say_
the town is to be attacked to-night. I don't believe a word of it.

Oh, I was so distressed this evening! They tell me Mr. Biddle was
killed at Vicksburg. I hope it is not true. Suppose it was a shot from
Will's battery?

July 20th, Sunday.

Last night the town was in a dreadful state of excitement. Before
sunset a regiment, that had been camped out of town, came in, and
pitched their tents around the new theatre, in front of our church. All
was commotion and bustle; and as the pickets had been drawn in, and the
soldiers talked freely of expecting an attack, everybody believed it,
and was consequently in rather an unpleasant state of anticipation.
Their cannon were on the commons back of the church, the artillery
horses tied to the wheels; while some dozen tents were placed around,
filled with men who were ready to harness them at the first alarm. With
all these preparations in full view, we went to bed as usual. I did not
even take the trouble of gathering my things which I had removed from
my "peddler sack"; and slept, satisfied that, if forced to fly, I would
lose almost everything in spite of my precaution in making a bag.

Well! night passed, and here is morning, and nothing is heard yet. The
at