Monday, April 27th. After the stage arrived on yesterday evening, I learned that it had come from only about fifty miles below and is not going to Alexandria any more, but is only going forty miles in that direction in order to bring up the stock, etc., on the line. The rumor is that the Federals are in possession of Alexandria; all the troops are retreating in this direction.
I have spent a very disagreeable day; it has been raining all day and kept me confined to the house; I am in a quandary; don’t know what to do or where to go; am staying at a Frenchman’s house at two dollars and a half per day; have no friend or acquaintance to consult and am utterly at a loss whether to go back to Shreveport or to make an effort to go forward; am afraid to try the latter plan for fear of getting out of money too far from home; think I shall start back to-morrow night.
Read Lycidas’ “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso” to-day, and a few chapters in “Old Mortality;” one of the longest and most disagreeable days I ever spent in my life; O, for peace and a quiet day with my dear wife and little darlings.
April 26th. Commenced with rainy weather, continuing stormy until eight o’clock, A. M., when it cleared off, the sun shining from out of the clouds in all its glory. The rain had cooled and purified the atmosphere to a very pleasant degree, and all enjoyed the change. At ten thirty A. M., called all hands to muster, and performed Divine service on the quarter-deck. As yet no attempt has been made by the enemy to attack us, and I am disposed to believe he has decided under the circumstances that discretion is the better part of valor.
26th. Spent the morning cleaning up the tent clothes and boots. At 11 A. M. went to hear Mr. Brown preach. Was much pleased. Quite disappointed. My only objection was that I had seen him smoke. Read some in Independent. Orders to march at daybreak, so went to bed rather early.
Sunday, 26th—Came on by Mr. England’s; stopped on Mountain at Mrs. Lowe’s and got some bread baked and duck cooked; took dinner and came on to Camp. Found the wagons camped near Yankeetown.
26th April (Sunday).—At 11.30 A.M., McCarthy drove me in his buggy to see the San Pedro spring, which is inferior in beauty to the San Antonio spring. A troop of Texan cavalry was bivouacked there.
We afterwards drove to the “missions” of San Jose” and San Juan, six and nine miles from the town. These were fortified convents for the conversion of the Indians, and were built by the Jesuits about one hundred and seventy years ago. They are now ruins, and the architecture is of the heavy Castilian style, elaborately ornamented. These missions are very interesting, and there are two more of them, which I did not see.
In the afternoon I saw many negroes and negresses parading about in their Sunday clothes—silks and crinolines—much smarter than their mistresses.
At 5 P.M. I dined with Colonel Bankhead, who gave an entertainment, which in these hard times must have cost a mint of money. About fourteen of the principal officers were invited; one of them was Captain Mason (cousin to the London commissioner), who had served under Stonewall Jackson in Virginia. He said that officer was by no means popular at first. I spent a very agreeable evening, and heard many anecdotes of the war. One of the officers sang the Abolition song, “John Brown,” together with its parody, “I’m bound to be a soldier in the army of the South,” a Confederate marching-song, and another parody, which is a Yankee marching-song, “We’ll hang Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree.”
Whenever I have dined with Confederate officers they have nearly always proposed the Queen’s health, and never failed to pass the highest eulogiums upon Her Majesty.
Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.
April 26.—Went to church. Took a long walk, gathered flowers. Haley, the scout, has been after his family farther South, in the Secesh regions. He had to go on the sly and keep hidden while there whenever he went to see them. So William sent a guard with him and an ambulance and brought them here—his wife and wife’s mother, and two children. His little girl three years old had croup the night before while they were on the road. She seemed very hoarse, but did not seem sick when they went to bed, but at two o’clock she died in great suffering. She was a beautiful little golden-haired child.
Sunday, 26th—We struck our tents this morning at 5 o’clock and loaded them on the boat and at 2 p. m. with knapsack on took up our march. By night we were within one mile of Richmond, Louisiana, on the railroad running from Vicksburg to Monroe, Louisiana, where we bivouacked for the night.
Sunday, 26th.—Above report confirmed; being in our rear not very pleasant news.
April 26 — Moved camp to-day from the South Fork to the Petersburg grade, and are now camped about a mile southwest of Moorefield. I saw about eighty Yankee prisoners who had been captured by our cavalry yesterday in a fight at Greenland Gap, at the foot of the Alleghany Mountain. I saw also Colonel Dulaney, of the Seventh Cavalry. He was wounded in the arm yesterday at the Greenland Gap fight.
Sunday, April 26th.
I am getting well! Bless the Lord, O my soul! Life, health, and happiness dawn on my trembling view again! . . . Dr. Stone came to see me a few hours after I arrived; two days after, he called again; this morning I walked out to meet him when he was announced, and he asked me how my sister was. When I told him I was myself, “God bless my soul! You don’t say so!” he exclaimed, evidently astonished at the resurrection.
