eviously.
Father's was split across, and the lock torn off, and in the place of
the hundreds of articles it contained, I saw two bonnets at the sight
of which I actually sat down to laugh. One was mother's velvet, which
looked very much like a football in its present condition. Mine was not
to be found, as the officers forgot to return it. Wonder who has my
imperial? I know they never saw a handsomer one, with its black velvet,
purple silk, and ostrich feathers.

I went to my room. Gone was my small paradise! Had this shocking place
ever been habitable? The tall mirror squinted at me from a thousand
broken angles. It looked so knowing! I tried to fancy the Yankee
officers being dragged from under my bed by the leg, thanks to Charles;
but it seemed too absurd; so I let them alone. My desk! What a sight!
The central part I had kept as a little curiosity shop with all my
little trinkets and keepsakes of which a large proportion were from my
gentlemen friends; I looked for all I had left, found only a piece of
the McRae, which, as it was labeled in full, I was surprised they had
spared. Precious letters I found under heaps of broken china and rags;
all my notes were gone, with many letters. I looked for a letter of
poor ----, in cipher, with the key attached, and name signed in plain
hand. I knew it would hardly be agreeable to him to have it read, and
it certainly would be unpleasant to me to have it published; but I
could not find it. Miriam thinks she saw something answering the
description, somewhere, though.

Bah! What is the use of describing such a scene?[9] Many suffered along
with us, though none so severely. Indeed, the Yankees cursed loudly at
those who did not leave anything worth stealing. They cannot complain
of us, on that score. All our handsome Brussels carpets, together with
Lydia's fur, were taken, too. What did they not take? In the garret, in
its darkest corner, a whole gilt-edged china set of Lydia's had been
overlooked; so I set to work and packed it up, while Charlie packed her
furniture in a wagon, to send to her father.

[9] In her book, _From Flag to Flag_, Mrs. Eliza McHatton Ripley
gives a vivid description of Judge Morgan's house as she herself
saw it after the sacking.--W. D.

It was now three o'clock; and with my light linen dress thrown off, I
was standing over a barrel putting in cups and saucers as fast as I
could wrap them in the rags that covered the floor, when Mr.