April 2d, 1863.—­We have had to move, and have thus lost our cave.  The owner of the house suddenly returned and notified us that he intended to bring his family back; didn’t think there’d be any siege.  The cost of the cave could go for the rent.  That means he has got tired of the Confederacy and means to stay here and thus get out of it.  This house was the only one to be had.  It was built by ex-Senator G., and is so large our tiny household is lost in it.  We only use the lower floor.  The bell is often rung by persons who take it for a hotel and come beseeching food at any price.  To-day one came who would not be denied.  “We do not keep a hotel, but would willingly feed hungry soldiers if we had the food.”  “I have been traveling all night and am starving; will pay any price for just bread.”  I went to the dining-room and found some biscuits, and set out two, with a large piece of corn-bread, a small piece of bacon, some nice sirup, and a pitcher of water.  I locked the door of the safe and left him to enjoy his lunch.  After he left I found he had broken open the safe and taken the remaining biscuits.

April 28th, 1863.—­What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed?  We have no prophet of the Lord at whose prayer the meal and oil will not waste.  As to wardrobe, I have learned to darn like an artist.  Making shoes is now another accomplishment.  Mine were in tatters.  H. came across a moth-eaten pair that he bought me, giving ten dollars, I think, and they fell into rags when I tried to wear them; but the soles were good, and that has helped me to shoes.  A pair of old coat-sleeves—­nothing is thrown away now—­was in my trunk.  I cut an exact pattern from my old shoes, laid it on the sleeves, and cut out thus good uppers and sewed them carefully; then soaked the soles and sewed the cloth to them.  I am so proud of these home-made shoes that I think I’ll put them in a glass case when the war is over, as an heirloom.  H. says he has come to have an abiding faith that everything he needs to wear will come out of that trunk while the war lasts.  It is like a fairy-casket.  I have but a dozen pins remaining, I gave so many away.  Every time these are used they are straightened and kept from rust.  All these curious labors are performed while the shells are leisurely screaming through the air; but as long as we are out of range we don’t worry.  For many nights we have had but little sleep because the Federal gun-boats have been running past the batteries.  The uproar when this is happening is phenomenal.  The first night the thundering artillery burst the bars of sleep, we thought it an attack by the river.  To get into garments and rush upstairs was the work of a moment.  From the upper gallery we have a fine view of the river, and soon a red glare lit up the scene and showed a small boat towing two large barges, gliding by.  The Confederates had set fire to a house near the bank.  Another night, eight boats