“I suppose, H., you’ve heard that Island No. 10 is gone?”

Yes, we heard that much, but Max had the particulars, and an exciting talk followed.  At night H. said to me, “G., New Orleans will be the next to go, you’ll see, and I want to get there first; this stagnation here will kill me.”

April 28, 1862.—­This evening has been very lovely, but full of a sad disappointment.  H. invited me to drive.  As we turned homeward he said: 

“Well, my arrangements are completed.  You can begin to pack your trunks to-morrow, and I shall have a talk with Max.”

Mr. R. and Annie were sitting on the gallery as I ran up the steps.

“Heard the news?” they cried.

“No!  What news?”

“New Orleans is taken!  All the boats have been run up the river to save them.  No more mails.”

How little they knew what plans of ours this dashed away.  But our disappointment is truly an infinitesimal drop in the great waves of triumph and despair surging to-night in thousands of hearts.

April 30.—­The last two weeks have glided quietly away without incident except the arrival of new neighbors—­Dr. Y., his wife, two children, and servants.  That a professional man prospering in Vicksburg should come now to settle in this retired place looks queer.  Max said: 

“H., that man has come here to hide from the conscript officers.  He has brought no end of provisions, and is here for the war.  He has chosen well, for this county is so cleaned of men it won’t pay to send the conscript officers here.”

Our stores are diminishing and cannot be replenished from without; ingenuity and labor must evoke them.  We have a fine garden in growth, plenty of chickens, and hives of bees to furnish honey in lieu of sugar.  A good deal of salt meat has been stored in the smoke-house, and, with fish in the lake, we expect to keep the wolf from the door.  The season for game is about over, but an occasional squirrel or duck comes to the larder, though the question of ammunition has to be considered.  What we have may be all we can have, if the war last five years longer; and they say they are prepared to hold out till the crack of doom.  Food, however, is not the only want.  I never realized before the varied needs of civilization.  Every day something is “out.”  Last week but two bars of soap remained, so we began to save bones and ashes.  Annie said:  “Now, if we only had some china-berry trees here we shouldn’t need any other grease.  They are making splendid soap at Vicksburg with china-balls.  They just put the berries into the lye and it eats them right up and makes a fine soap.”  I did long for some china-berries to make this experiment.  H. had laid in what seemed a good supply of kerosene, but it is nearly gone, and we are down to two candles kept for an emergency.  Annie brought a receipt from Natchez for making candles of rosin and wax, and with great forethought brought also the wick and