15 September 1862 – 21 September 1862

Yesterday Miriam determined to go to Linwood, and consequently I had a severe task of trunk-packing, one of my greatest delights, however. I hate to see any one pack loosely or in a slovenly manner. Perhaps that is the reason I never let any one do it if I am able to stand. This morning was appointed as our day for leaving, but I persuaded her to wait until to-morrow, in hope that either the General, or news from Virginia, would arrive this evening. Bless this village! It is the meanest place for news that I ever was in. Not a word can be gathered, except what is false or unfounded; and they are even tired of that, in the last few days. Talk of Baton Rouge turning Yankee, as the report went here! Of the three or four there who took the oath, not one can be compared to some loyal citizens of this small burg. Why, I talked to two gentlemen yesterday who, if it were not for the disgrace and danger incurred by bearing the name, I should style Union men, and talked or rather listened to them, until my spirits were reduced to the lowest ebb. People were shocked at our daring to believe there lived gentlemen and Christians in the North—I mean those wild fanatics, who could only take in one idea at a time, and rarely divested their brains of that one to make room for a newer one, were shocked at our belief; but if they could converse with a few here, that I could point out, our gnat of common sense would be swallowed by this behemoth of heterodoxy. This morning Mrs. Bar, Miss Bernard, and a Miss Mud came to town and surprised us by a most unexpected visit. They spent the day with us, and have just now driven off on their return home, through this drizzly, misting evening. A while ago a large cavalry company passed, at the corner, on their way from Port Hudson to Camp Moore, the report is. They raised their hats to us, seeing us at the gate, and we waved our handkerchiefs in return, each with a silent "God bless you," I am sure. As though to prove my charge unjust, news comes pouring in. Note we a few items, to see how many will prove false. First, we have taken Baltimore without firing a gun; Maryland has risen en masse to join our troops; Longstreet and Lee are marching on Washington from the rear; the Louisiana troops are ordered home to defend their own State—thank God! if it will only bring the boys back! Then comes tidings of nine gunboats at Baton Rouge; Ponchatoula on the railroad taken by Yankees; Camp Moore and three batteries, ditto. Not so cheering! If that is so, Clinton lies within reach, being thirty-five miles off. Leaving much the most valuable portion of our clothing here, the Yankees will probably appropriate what little they spared us and leave us fairly destitute; for we take only summer clothes to Linwood. I have plenty of underclothes, but the other day, when I unpacked the large trunk from Dr. Enders's, I found I had just two dresses for winter; a handsome blue silk I bought just two years ago last spring, and one heavy blue merino that does not fit me. What an outfit for winter! Miriam has two poplins and a black silk, and mother a wine-colored merino, only. But each of us is blessed with a warm cloak, and are correspondingly grateful. I was confident I had saved my green, dark blue, and brown silk dresses, but the Yankees saved them instead, for me, or their suffering sweethearts, rather. On the other hand, taking so many necessary articles to Linwood, the risk of losing them is the same. An attack on Port Hudson is apprehended, and if it falls, General Carter's house will be decidedly unsafe from Yankee vengeance. The probability is that it will burn, as they have been daily expecting ever since the Yankees occupied Baton Rouge. The risk seems equal, either way. Go or stay, the danger seems the same. Shall we go, then, for variety, or die here of stagnation while waiting for the Yankees to make up their minds? I would rather be at neither place, just now; in fact I could hardly name the place I should like to be in now, unless it were Europe or the Sandwich Islands; but I love Linwood and its dear inhabitants, and under other circumstances should be only too happy to be there. I was regretting the other day that our life was now so monotonous; almost longed for the daily alarms we had when under Yankee rule in Baton Rouge. Stirring times are probably ahead.

Still floating about! This morning after breakfast, General Carter made his appearance, and in answer to his question as to whether we were ready to leave with him, Miriam replied, "Yes, indeed!" heartily, glad to get away from Clinton, where I have detained her ever since the day Theodore returned home, to her great disgust. As our trunk was already packed, it did not take many minutes to get ready; and in a little while, with a protracted good-bye, we were on our way to the depot, which we reached some time before the cars started. Though glad to leave Clinton, I was sorry to part with mother. For ten days she has been unable to walk, with a sore on her leg below the knee; and I want to believe she will miss me while I am away. I could not leave my bird in that close, ill-ventilated house. He has never sung since I recovered him; and I attribute his ill health or low spirits to that unhealthy place, and thought Linwood might be beneficial to him, too; so brought him with me, to see what effect a breath of pure air might have. We were the only ladies on the cars, except Mrs. Brown, who got off halfway; but in spite of that, had a very pleasant ride, as we had very agreeable company. The train only stopped thirteen times in the twenty miles. Five times to clear the brushwood from the telegraph lines, once running back a mile to pick up a passenger, and so on, to the great indignation of many of the passengers aboard, who would occasionally cry out, "Hello! if this is the 'clearing-up' train, we had better send for a hand-car!" "What the devil's the matter now?" until the General gravely assured them that it was an old habit of this very accommodating train, which in summer-time stopped whenever the passengers wished to pick blackberries on the road. Many soldiers were aboard on their way to Port Hudson, to rejoin their companies. One gallant one offered me a drink of water from his canteen, which I accepted out of mere curiosity to see what water from such a source tasted of. To my great surprise, I found it tasted just like any other. The General introduced a Mr. Crawford to us, who took the seat next to me, as the one next to Miriam was already occupied, and proved a very pleasant and talkative compagnon de voyage. General Carter's query as to my industry since he had seen me, brought my acknowledgment of having made two shirts, one of which I sent yesterday. Who to? was the next question. I gave the name, adding that I did not know the gentleman, and he was under the impression that it was made by mother. "I'll see that he is undeceived!" cried the General. "Hanged if I don't tell him!" "Thirtieth Louisiana, you say?" queried Mr. Crawford. "That is the very one I am going to! I will tell him myself!" So my two zealous champions went on, the General ending with "See to it, Crawford; Mrs. Morgan shall not have the credit!" as though there was any great merit in sewing for one's countrymen! Our new acquaintance handed me from the cars as we reached Linwood, and stood talking while the accommodating train slowly rolled out its freight. He told me he was going to send me a tiny sack of coffee, which proposition, as it did not meet with the slightest encouragement, will of course never be thought of again. I noticed, too, on the train, one of the Arkansas's crew. The same who, though scarcely able to stand on a severely wounded foot, made such a fuss about riding in a carriage while "real ladies" had to walk. Of course he did not recognize us, any more than we would have known him if Dr. Brown had not pointed him out. I hear all of them are at Port Hudson. Anna told me, as we got here, that Dr. Addison (the one I disliked because he was so scrupulously neat while the others were dressed, or rather undressed, for working) was here yesterday, and inquired for the Miss Morgans, saying they were the most charming young ladies he had ever met. On what he founded his opinion, or how he happened to inquire for us in this part of the country, I cannot imagine. The General brings news of the boys from Jackson. He there met an officer who left Stonewall Jackson's command on the 2d inst., and says Gibbes was unhurt, God be praised! Another saw George a week ago in Richmond, still lame, as the cap of his knee had slipped in that fall last spring. Of Jimmy we hear not a word, not even as to where he is. It seems as though we are destined never to hear again.

General Carter has just received a letter from Lydia, which contains what to me is the most melancholy intelligence—the news of the death of Eugene Fowler, who was killed on the 22d of August, in some battle or skirmish in Virginia. Poor Eugene!... Does it not seem that this war will sweep off all who are nearest and dearest, as well as most worthy of life, leaving only those you least care for, unharmed?

After supper last night, by way of variety, Anna, Miriam, and I came up to our room, and after undressing, commenced popping corn and making candy in the fireplace. We had scarcely commenced when three officers were announced, who found their way to the house to get some supper, they having very little chance of reaching Clinton before morning, as the cars had run off the track. Of course, we could not appear; and they brought bad luck with them, for our corn would not pop, and our candy burned, while to add to our distress the odor of broiled chicken and hot biscuit was wafted upstairs, after a while, in the most provoking way. In vain we sent the most pathetic appeals by each servant, for a biscuit apiece, after our hard work. Mrs. Carter was obdurate until, tired out with our messages, she at last sent us an empty jelly-cup, a shred of chip beef, two polished drumsticks, and half a biscuit divided in three. With that bountiful repast we were forced to be content and go to bed. At sunrise this morning, Mrs. Carter left to go down to her father in Iberville, to see her stepmother who is expected to die. Scarcely had she gone when six more officers and soldiers came in from the still stationary cars to get their breakfast. We heard that Mr. Marsden, too, was down there, so the General sent him a nice breakfast, and I sent my love with it; but he had already breakfasted at Mr. Elder's. As soon as they left, we prepared for church, and just as we were ready, Captain Brown and Mr. Addison were announced. The Doctor greeted us with an elegant bow, but they did not remain long, as we were about going out. Many officers were in church, and as I passed out, Colonel Breaux joined me, and escorted Miriam and me to the carriage, where we stood talking some time under the trees before getting in. He gave us a most pressing invitation to name a day to visit the camp that he might "have the pleasure of showing us the fortifications," and we said we would beg the General's permission to do so. Charming Colonel Breaux! Like all nice men, he is married, of course. He and another officer drove just behind our carriage in coming home, until we came to the fork of the road. Then, leaning from their buggy, both gentlemen bowed profoundly, which we as cordially returned. Two more behind followed their example, and to our great surprise, ten, who were seated in a small wagon drawn by two diminutive mules, bowed also, and, not content with that, rose to their feet as the distance between the two roads increased, and raised their caps, though in the most respectful silence. Rather queer; and I would have said impertinent had they been any others than Confederates fighting for us, who, of course, are privileged people.