as told him that we had turned
Yankees! All her arts would not grieve me as much as one word against
Brother. My wrongs I can forget; but one word of contempt for Brother I
_never_ forgive! White with passion I said to my informant, "Will you
inform the young lady that her visit will never be returned, that she
is requested not to repeat hers, and that I decline knowing any one who
dares cast the slightest reflection on the name of one who has been
both father and brother to me!" This evening I was at a house where she
was announced. Miriam and I bade our hostess good-evening and left
without speaking to her. Anybody but Brother! No one shall utter his
name before me save with respect and regard.

This young woman's father is a Captain in the Yankee navy, and her
brother is a Captain in the Yankee army, while three other brothers are
in the Confederate. Like herself, I have three brothers fighting for
the South; unlike her, the only brother who avows himself a Unionist
has too much regard for his family to take up arms against his own
flesh and blood.

Tuesday, October 6th.

I hope this will be the last occasion on which I shall refer to the
topic to which this unfortunate book seems to have been devoted. But it
gives me a grim pleasure to add a link to the broken chain of the
curious story, now and then. Maybe some day the missing links will be
supplied me, and then I can read the little humdrum romance of What
might have been, or What I'm glad never was, as easily as Marie tells
her rosary.

Well! the prisoners have gone at last, to my unspeakable satisfaction.
Day before yesterday they left. Now I can go out as I please, without
fear of meeting him face to face. How odd that I should feel like a
culprit! But that is in accordance with my usual judgment and
consistency. Friday, I had a severe fright. Coming up Camp Street with
Ada, after a ramble on Canal, we met two Confederates. Everywhere that
morning we had met gray coats, but none that I recognized. Still,
without looking, I saw through my eyelids, as it were, two hands
timidly touch two gray caps, as though the question "May I?" had not
yet been answered. In vain I endeavored to meet their eyes, or give the
faintest token of greeting. I was too frightened and embarrassed to
speak, and only by a desperate effort succeeded in bending my head in a
doubtful bow, that would have disgraced a dairy maid, after we had