Yet behold me crying as I have not cried
for many and many a day. Not for Harry; I dare not cry for him. I feel
a deathlike quiet when I think of him; a fear that even a deep-drawn
breath would wake him in his grave. And as dearly as I love you, O Hal,
I don't want you in this dreary world again....

Talk of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes! Talk of Louis XIV!
Of--pshaw! my head is in such a whirl that history gets all mixed up,
and all parallels seem weak and moderate in comparison to this infamous
outrage. To-day, thousands of families, from the most respectable down
to the least, all who have had the firmness to register themselves
enemies to the United States, are ordered to leave the city before the
fifteenth of May. Think of the thousands, perfectly destitute, who can
hardly afford to buy their daily bread even here, sent to the
Confederacy, where it is neither to be earned nor bought, without
money, friends, or a home. Hundreds have comfortable homes here, which
will be confiscated to enrich those who drive them out. "It is an ill
wind that blows no one good." Such dismal faces as one meets
everywhere! Each looks heartbroken. Homeless, friendless, beggars, is
written in every eye. Brother's face is too unhappy to make it pleasant
to look at him. True, he is safe; but hundreds of his friends are going
forth destitute, leaving happy homes behind, not knowing where the
crust of bread for famishing children is to come from to-morrow. He
went to General Bowens and asked if it were possible that women and
children were included in the order. Yes, he said; they should all go,
and go in the Confederacy. They should not be allowed to go elsewhere.
Penned up like sheep to starve! That's the idea! With the addition of
forty thousand mouths to feed, they think they can invoke famine to
their aid, seeing that their negro brothers don't help them much in the
task of subjugating us.

* * * * *

Don't care who knows I smuggled in a dozen letters! Wish I had had
more!

June 9th, Tuesday.

My dear Brother, who is always seeking to make somebody happy, arranged
a dinner-party at the lake for us Saturday. There was quite a number of
us, as, besides ourselves and the five children, we had Mrs. Price and
her children, Mrs. Bull, and three nurses.... There are no Southern
young men left in town, and those who remain would hardly be re