Through Some Eventful Years

March 26th, 1864.—I am so ashamed of myself. In all the excitement we have experienced and, yes, all this ill-timed gaiety, I forgot I had not finished the allotment of socks, which was to have been ready for the box, which is to be forwarded to the Army of the West. I have only three pairs ready and cousin Henry may come for them any day. Never mind, if I can stay awake to dance and play I can surely keep my eyes open to knit socks for our dear soldiers. Aunt Robinson, who is always forehanded and never “puts off for tomorrow what should be done today” has given me some disapproving looks but I have designs on her, though I have not told her yet. I must stop and—knit—knit —knit.