February 3.—Mobile has quite a number of troops in it; General Buckner is in command, and is doing his utmost to have the city placed in a state of defense.
I paid a visit, twelve miles across the bay, to the eastern shore, in Baldwin County, returning in a sail-boat, and came very near being capsized, from the tiles with which the bay is obstructed.
I have been to a fair, given for the benefit of the Protestant orphans; the ladies were all dressed very handsomely; the affair was one of the most splendid of the kind I ever attended, and it did not look much like war times.
Provisions are higher still. I have been not a little amused at the novel lights we have; instead of oil and candles, nature has bountifully supplied us with illuminators in our pitch pine knots. We have a little oil which we keep for special occasions. We put some pieces of pine in the grate, which gives light enough to see each other; all we can do is to converse, as it is impossible to sew or read by this light. We are compelled to retire in the dark, or else run the risk of having our complexion and every thing else ruined by the smoke of the pine torches. These are things which every body laughs at, saying it is war times, and they will soon be over.
Although there is a good deal of speculating, and people growing wealthy, still it seems a much greater boast to be poor than rich. Every one has his story of how hard it is for him to live. This seems to be the fashionable topic of the day. All are hopeful that this state of affairs will not last long, and feel that the cause is worth a struggle.
I have been trying to get some servants to go back with me, and also a few ladies. I have succeeded in getting one of the latter. We expect to leave in a few days. I have been presented with a number of books, from some of the bookstores, to take on with me.
