Sunday, March 26.— I went to the Episcopal Church, and, after the morning service, the rector, Mr. Thomas, introduced me to his wife, Mrs. Bector, and Mrs. Mitchell. Mrs. M. told me she had a son in Massindorf’s battery, which is now stationed in Mobile, and that he is much pleased with the place. Last year, at the retreat from Dalton, Griffin was filled with wounded. Mrs. M.’s house was full. Bishop Lay and Dr. Quintard visited the place then, and the rite of confirmation was administered to many. One of our old patients, Lieutenant Dupree, was confirmed while lying, badly wounded, at the house of Mrs. M. I am told that the ladies of the place did a great deal for the sufferers.
We seem to be completely hemmed in on all sides. I hear that the long-expected attack on Mobile has at last begun, and that a large force is moving against Selma and Montgomery. One of the largest armies yet massed by the North is investing Richmond; Sherman and his vandals are in the very heart of the country, and a large army coming in by Wilmington— which is now in their hands; Charleston is closely besieged. Not one ray of light gleams from any quarter. It seems like hoping against hope; but my strong faith in the justice of our cause makes failure to me an impossibility. I know we shall have much yet to suffer before the end. I have seen only extracts from the president’s message, and must say I do not like the tone of them. He is still urging the people to do their duty; but says, if we should fail, we must bow with submission to the decree of an all-wise Providence. I do not like the word “fail” at all. While we have one spark of hope left, one breath of submission ought not to be breathed by any one, much less by our chief magistrate.
