oarding-house where we passed the first night, from
what attraction I cannot imagine. I am just as anxious to get into the
country. I would hate the dull round of this little place; I prefer
solitude where I can do as I please without being observed. Here we are
as well known by people we never before heard of as though we were
fellow-citizens.

September 1st, Monday.

I woke up this morning and, to my great surprise, find that summer has
already passed away, and that we have already entered the first month
of fall. Where has the summer gone to? Since the taking of Fort
Jackson, the days have gone by like a dream. I had hardly realized
spring, when now I find it is autumn. I am content to let the time fly,
though, as every day brings us nearer Peace--or something else.

How shockingly I write! Will I ever again have a desk or a table to
write on? At present, my seat is a mattress, and my knee my desk; and
that is about the only one I have had since the 2d of August. This is
the dreariest day I have seen for some time. Outside, it has been
raining since daybreak, and inside, no one feels especially bright or
cheerful. I sometimes wish mother would carry out her threat and brave
the occasional shellings at Baton Rouge. I would dare anything, to be
at home again. I know that the Yankees have left us little besides the
bare house; but I would be grateful for the mere shelter of the roof. I
often fancy how we will miss little articles that we thought necessary
to our comfort before, when we return.... And the shoes I paid five
dollars for, and wore a single time? I am wishing I had them now that I
am almost barefooted, and cannot find a pair in the whole country....
Would it not be curious, if one of these days while traveling in the
North (if I ever travel again), I should find some well-loved object
figuring in a strange house as a "trophy of the battle of Baton Rouge"?
I should have to seek for them in some very low house, perhaps;
respectable people had very little to do with such disgraceful work, I
fancy. Suppose I should see father's cigar-stand, for instance, or
Miriam's little statues? I wonder if the people would have the
conscience to offer to return them? A young lady, passing by one of the
pillaged houses, expressed her surprise at seeing an armoir full of
women's and children's clothes being emptied, and the contents tied up
in sheets. "What can you do with such