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.
