wrapped in mourning. And I hardly dare pray God to bless us, with the
crape hanging over the way. It would have been banners, if our
President had been killed, though!

Saturday, 22d April.

To see a whole city draped in mourning is certainly an imposing
spectacle, and becomes almost grand when it is considered as an
expression of universal affliction. So it is, in one sense. For the
more violently "Secesh" the inmates, the more thankful they are for
Lincoln's death, the more profusely the houses are decked with the
emblems of woe. They all look to me like "not sorry for him, but
dreadfully grieved to be forced to this demonstration." So all things
have indeed assumed a funereal aspect. Men who have hated Lincoln with
all their souls, under terror of confiscation and imprisonment which
they _understand_ is the alternative, tie black crape from every
practicable knob and point to save their homes. Last evening the B----s
were all in tears, preparing their mourning. What sensibility! What
patriotism! a stranger would have exclaimed. But Bella's first remark
was: "Is it not horrible? This vile, _vile_ old crape! Think of hanging
it out when--" Tears of rage finished the sentence. One would have
thought pity for the murdered man had very little to do with it.

Coming back in the cars, I had a _rencontre_ that makes me gnash my
teeth yet. It was after dark, and I was the only lady in a car crowded
with gentlemen. I placed little Miriam on my lap to make room for some
of them, when a great, dark man, all in black, entered, and took the
seat and my left hand at the same instant, saying, "Good-evening, Miss
Sarah." Frightened beyond measure to recognize Captain Todd[21] of the
Yankee army in my interlocutor, I, however, preserved a quiet exterior,
and without the slightest demonstration answered, as though replying to
an internal question. "Mr. Todd." "It is a long while since we met," he
ventured. "Four years," I returned mechanically. "You have been well?"
"My health has been bad." "I have been ill myself"; and determined to
break the ice he diverged with "Baton Rouge has changed sadly." "I hope
I shall never see it again. We have suffered too much to recall home
with any pleasure." "I understand you have suffered severely," he said,
glancing at my black dress. "We have yet one left in the army, though,"
I could not help saying. He, too, had a brother there, he said.