March.—Nothing special occurred up to the 23d of March. On the 16th, paid $15.00 for hat; on 23d, regiment went down to Warrenton on picket, but Brother I. L. being sick, I was left to wait on him.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Monday, [March] 23. — Rained during the night. Rained 19th and 20th all day; looks like rain all day today. This is a beautiful valley from Piatt down to its mouth. Make west Virginia a free State and Charleston ought to be a sort of Pittsburgh.
P. M. Warm and bright until 6 P. M. An April shower. Camp getting into order; gravel walks building, streets making. Muddy now, but it is a loose porous soil and will turn out well.
Monday, 23d—It rained nearly all day and our new camp has become very muddy. Today I read the two books of Chronicles in the Bible, sixty-five chapters in all. Our picket duty here is very light at present.
March 23 — We renewed our march, and about the middle of the day we halted and camped on the east bank of the Shenandoah River one mile above Front Royal. The country around our camp is very hilly and broken. Although we are camped right on the river bank, yet there is very little bottom or pretty land in sight on this part of the river. A little distance above our camp the encroaching hills push boldly toward the river and end in abrupt bluffs, which rise almost perpendicularly from the water’s edge.
March 23—We had a man whipped to-day in our regiment for desertion.
23rd. Awakened at 3:30 A. M. Off at 4 A. M. Reached Oberlin at 9:15. So good to see the dear friends. Minnie and Ellie came down. At 11 started for Elyria with Delos. Very muddy. Took dinner with Floy. Aunt Mary looking well, pretty little baby. At 8:15 saw Fannie, the dear girl, good child! Home a little after ten. How hard to return to camp again.
On Moon Lake, Monday, March 23. Reveille at 4 A. M. At dawn we commenced embarking, the left Section under Lieutenant Hood on the “Armada,” center Section under Simpson on the “Jesse K. Bell.” First piece on the “”White Rose.” Second piece on the “Rose Hamilton.” Rained heavy all day. 2 P. M. we swung off, I being on the “Jesse Bell.” Laid off till 4 P. M. when we entered the Pass, the fourth boat of the fleet. At the mouth it was about five rods wide. The water shot through at a wild rate. The wheel was reversed to check the speed of the boat. On we went, through the woods and short turns until we reached Moon Lake, where it widened. The Lake is about three miles long, half a mile wide, where we had smooth sailing until dark, when we tied up near an old negro hut. On the north side a squad of cavalry encamped close by. A member of the 93rd Illinois (which is on board with us) was buried near the shore. Made our bed under the wheels of the pieces, the boat being so crowded; had but poor rest. Slept as close as “three in the bed and two in the middle.”
Monday, 23rd—A false alarm to-night, and rain.
23d March. — Left Havana in H. M. S. Immortality, at 11 A.M. Knocked off steam when outside the harbour.
Monday, 23d [March]. I was very unwell, and it poured down rain all day—a real equinox. Sat pretty much in my room, hearing Mrs. Norton through the open door fretting about not being able to go out and make some visits, and talking about the negroes and the Yankees alternately. I feel all the time as if she feels we ought to be with her and amuse her. I so often nowadays recall scenes and feelings of Frances Burney at Court. Her longing to go—her useless sacrifice of herself and her struggles between a longing for a more congenial society and a fancied gratitude. Read a little and wrote a little and sighed a great deal today. Went to bed, but as it was storming still and Mrs. Norton did not feel sleepy, she talked to us in bed and made every possible noise and inquiry so as to keep us awake. We were both so exhausted by a previous sleeplessness and sickness that I could not show much agreeability in my tone of voice. I am quite ready for any demand upon my friendship and will go to the death for those I love, but I resent being made use of. Mrs. Norton is sensitive to the slightest change in tone from another, and resents it as a wrong done her, though she does not yield her own prerogative in saying whatever she pleases. Indeed, I have a very kind feeling for her, and I pity her age and infirmities. I only feel more fully than ever that people who have nothing in common should never, under any circumstances, live together.
Tuesday broke beautifully clear; soon clouded; poured down again, and even hailed. I had terrible headache and aching of limbs all night— could not get up to breakfast. Ginnie brought me some tea, and seemed so concerned about me, and indeed, looked so very badly herself, that I got up and dressed. I went out on the balcony and helped pick up the unusual hailstones, though stooping was hard work indeed. I had to lie down again and did not go out to see Mr. Randolph, though he sat the morning with Ginnie and Mrs. Norton. He comes often to see if he can aid us in any way— and he would do anything for us—unconditionally, too. Within the last week he has had another child born to him. He regrets that it is not a boy. He was so anxious to call it “Rebel” Randolph. He could call his girl “Rebellion” or “Rebellia,” he says, but cannot bear anything that seems to make a girl or woman conspicuous. I like this sentiment; it accords with his usual ones; he is really brave and manly, and in everything shows tenderness to women and unfortunates. Ginnie’s eyes have been very much inflamed of late, and she has been wearing green glasses. I told an acquaintance that they were as red as blood, meaning the lids, and the report, wonderfully exaggerated, reached our friends at Greenville, and brought them to see us. Mr. Randolph says there was much sympathy and excitement out there as they heard Ginnie’s eyes were running blood, and that she had lost them entirely. So much for report. Thousands of rumors fill the city. The newspapers are a dead waste; they tell nothing. I know from a gentleman who really does know, that Banks, before he left, said, that if any publisher interfered with his actions or proceedings, he would “see to it.” Brashear City has been taken by the Confederates, and Banks, upon his return from Baton Rouge, hurried up to that region, taking the vessels which remained here. They have seized all the cars. There seems to be a great excitement and expectation among our people. We know not what a day may bring forth, and lie down at night not knowing what may happen before morning. Reuben, Mary’s husband, has had a cart here and has removed all Mary’s things and his own. I want to go out and talk to Mary—to beg her not to go away—but Mrs. Norton does not like to have us talk with her servants, and I do not know as I ought to listen to all that she would say about her mistress. I have begged Jane to talk to her, for I know that Mary is acting from the promptings of temper and that she will be sorry for it afterward. I begged Jane to do her duty, and that she would be rewarded for it after this time of desolation is over. That Jane goes out at night without her mistress’ knowledge, I am positive, but I think she is lonely and unhappy here. Farragut reported to be positively a prisoner; the Hartford positively taken, and so is also the Albatross; and Stonewall is positively outside, and the Confederates positively about to attack. I feel a little nervous thrill, but it soon dies out.
