Journal of Julia LeGrand.

March 6th [1863]. Rained hard all day long. Could but pity the Federal soldiers soaking out at Camp Weitzel. Could but pity ourselves, too, shut up all day long with one who has not an idea in common with ourselves, but who will insist in talk about the war all the time, stopping long enough only to read the same sort of boasting stuff in the newspapers which have been filling them for months. Oh, how tired I am. I have never known before what ennui or loneliness meant, except when with uncongenial company. Mrs. N—— thinks we feel no interest in the war—if we don’t have peace soon I think I shall soon lose my senses. We had an “extra” this afternoon which I read aloud. Nothing in it worth the trouble. The loss of our Nashville boat and the capture of the Indianola and coal barges being all known before. I looked out just as I was going to bed; beautiful sight after a day of storm. The wet streets lay like pure silver beneath a lustrous full moon and stars, and soft white clouds strode the blue as peacefully as if we were all good and happy here below. The stars used to calm my most wretched moods—now they fill me with an unutterable longing.