Sunday, 26th October.
This place is completely overrun by soldiers passing and repassing. Friday night five stayed here, last night two more, and another has just gone. One, last night, a bashful Tennesseean, had never tasted sugar-cane. We were sitting around a blazing fire, enjoying it hugely, when in answer to our repeated invitations to help himself, he confessed he had never eaten it. Once instructed, though, he got on remarkably well, and ate it in a civilized manner, considering it was a first attempt.
Everything points to a speedy attack on Port Hudson. Rumors reach us from New Orleans of extensive preparations by land and water, and of the determination to burn Clinton as soon as they reach it, in revenge for the looms that were carried from Baton Rouge there, and which can soon be put in working order to supply our soldiers, negroes, and ourselves with necessary clothing. Of two evils, if Baton Rouge is to be overrun by Yankees, and Clinton burned, I would rather await them at home.
