if I can't fight, being
unfortunately a woman, which I now regret for the first time in my
life, at least I can help in other ways. What fingers can do in
knitting and sewing for them, I have done with the most intense
delight; what words of encouragement and praise could accomplish, I
have tried on more than one bold soldier boy, and not altogether in
vain; I have lost my home and all its dear contents for our Southern
Rights, have stood on its deserted hearthstone and looked at the ruin
of all I loved--without a murmur, almost glad of the sacrifice if it
would contribute its mite towards the salvation of the Confederacy. And
so it did, indirectly; for the battle of Baton Rouge which made the
Yankees, drunk with rage, commit outrages in our homes that civilized
Indians would blush to perpetrate, forced them to abandon the town as
untenable, whereby we were enabled to fortify Port Hudson here, which
now defies their strength. True they have reoccupied our town; that
Yankees live in our house; but if our generals said burn the whole
concern, would I not put the torch to our home readily, though I love
its bare skeleton still? Indeed I would, though I know what it is to be
without one. Don't Lilly and mother live in a wretched cabin in vile
Clinton while strangers rest under our father's roof? Yankees, I owe
you one for that!

Well! I boast myself Rebel, sing "Dixie," shout Southern Rights, pray
for God's blessing on our cause, without ceasing, and would not live in
this country if by any possible calamity we should be conquered; I am
only a woman, and that is the way I feel. Brother may differ. What
then? Shall I respect, love him less? No! God bless him! Union or
Secession, he is always my dear, dear Brother, and tortures could not
make me change my opinion.

Friday, January 30th.

A whole week has passed since I opened this book, a week certainly not
spent in idleness, if not a very interesting one. For I have kept my
room almost all the time, leaving Miriam and Anna to entertain their
guests alone. Even when Mr. Halsey called on Sunday, I declined going
down. Why, I wonder? I felt better than usual, was in a splendid humor
for talking, yet--my excuses took my place, and I lay quietly in bed,
dreaming by the firelight, and singing hymns to myself. Once in a while
the thought would occur to me, "Why don't I go down?" But it was always
answered with a wry face, and the