ld. Charlotte Bronte has spent a week with me--in my dreams--and
together we have talked of her sad life. Shakespeare and I have
discussed his works, seated tete-a-tete over a small table. He pointed
out the character of each of his heroines, explaining what I could not
understand when awake; and closed the lecture with "You have the
tenderest heart I have ever read, or sung of"--which compliment,
considering it as original with him, rather than myself, waked me up
with surprise.

CLINTON,
September 9th, Tuesday.

Back again! For how long, I know not. At sunset Saturday, Eliza and
Miriam returned to Mrs. McCay's with Nannie Davidson. Mother had proved
obdurate and refused to leave Clinton; so they had all gone on, and
spent the day with Mrs. Haynes instead of going to Mrs. George's. After
my quiet, solitary day, I was glad to see them again, particularly as
they brought confirmation of the great victory in Virginia. It is said
the enemy were cut off from Washington, and that we were pursuing them.
O my brothers! If God will only spare them! I envy Lydia who is so near
them, and knows all, and can take care of them if they are hurt. It
will be several days at least, before we can hear from them, if we hear
at all; for Jimmy has never yet written a line, and George has written
but once since the taking of the forts, and that was before the battle
of Chickahominy. We can only wait patiently. Perhaps General Carter
will bring us news.

Mrs. Haynes sent a very pressing invitation for us to spend the next
day with her, so, although it was Sunday, we went. I am becoming
dreadfully irreligious. I have not been to church since Mr. Gierlow
went to Europe last July. It is perfectly shocking; but the Yankees
have kept me running until all pious dispositions have been shaken out
of me; so they are to blame. Like heathens, we called on Miss Comstock
as we passed through town, and spent an hour with her. Landed at Mr.
Haynes's, we had ample time to look around before he and his wife got
back from church. Here again I found what seems to be the prevailing
style of the country, widespread doors and windows, with neither blinds
nor shade trees to keep off the glare of the sun. The dining-room was a
wide hall, where the rising sun shone in your face at breakfast, and at
dinner, being directly overhead, seemed to shine in at both ends