to get ready, for I had to
get some clothes out of the trunk, to send home. Well, ever since I
reached here I have been writing, and I am ashamed to say how long it
is. As the time grows more exciting, my book grows shorter, to my great
distress. What will I do?

We all vowed that would be the last time we would run until we heard
the cannon, or had some better reason than a Yankee panic to believe
the Confederates were coming; though if we listened to mother, she
would go there every night if this lasted for a whole year. Kind
Phillie Nolan wrote insisting on our staying with them on the
plantation until it was over, but we cannot do it; the time is too
uncertain; if we _knew_ it was to come this week, we might stay that
long with her; but to go for an indefinite period, Miriam and I would
not hear of.

I have kept for the last a piece of news I received with thankfulness,
when I finally heard it; for, though known to the whole family and all
the town on Tuesday night, no one thought it worth while to tell me
until I heard it by accident last evening. It was that a Mr. Bell,
writing to his wife, says Gibbes asked him to send word to mother that
he, George, and Jimmy were in the fight of the 10th and 11th, and all
safe. God be praised!

July 25th.

An old gentleman stopped here just now in a carriage and asked to see
me. Such a sad, sick old man! He said his name was Caldwell, and that
passing through East Feliciana, Mrs. Flynn had asked him to deliver a
message to us. Had we heard from our brothers? I told him the message
from Mr. Bell. He commenced crying. There was one of them, he said, who
got hurt. I held my breath and looked at him. He cried more still, and
said yes, it was Gibbes--in the hand--not dangerous--but--Here I
thought he meant to tell me worse; perhaps he was dead; but I could not
speak, so he went on saying Lydia and the General had gone on to
Richmond instantly, and had probably reached there before to-day. He
took so long to tell it, and he cried so, that I was alarmed, until I
thought perhaps he had lost one of his own sons; but I dared not ask
him. Just then one of the horses fell down with sunstroke, and I begged
the old gentleman to come in and rest until they could raise the horse;
but he said no, he must go on to the river. He looked so sick that I
could not help saying he looked too unwell to go beyond, and I wished
he would come