Easter Sunday, April 16.—A most beautiful day—one that speaks of peace and good will toward men. On my way to church a feeling of sadness came over me, when I remembered the sunny Easter Sundays I had spent with many now gone forever. The little church, I was glad to see, had been all nicely whitewashed, and thoroughly cleaned, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers was on the communion table — an emblem of the resurrection. The church was crowded, and I noticed that Mr. Thomas did not dismiss the congregation before communion, as is common with us, but went on with the communion service as the Methodists do. I felt like thanking the singers for the good music. It took me right back home, as the tunes were all familiar ones. They sang the sixty-ninth Easter hymn, one I had listened to many a time on that day, and one which my father sung, when a boy, in “auld Scotia.”
Mr. Thomas’s text was, “I am Alpha and Omega,” and an excellent sermon he preached from it. He is an able logician, and a concise and fluent speaker. He is a native of Wales, but was raised in Georgia. For many years he was a chaplain in the United States navy. When the war broke out he joined our army. Lately he has been living here on his farm, and I have been told that General Wheeler’s commissary took every grain of corn which he had, leaving him and his family starving. He receives little or nothing for his services, and has to earn his living by manual labor.
Mrs. Fyffe and myself spend an hour or two every evening trying to teach our negro women to read. I have almost given up in despair of their ever learning. We teach them their A B C’s, and think, well, they know that much; but the next time it is all forgotten.
Mrs. Newsom had been teaching her woman some time before she came here, but we find her the dullest of all. I think the African is capable of learning but very little; many may learn to read and write, but I feel confident, as a rule, they will not go much further. I have taught them before, and find that in learning hymns and prayers orally they do pretty well.
I have just received a letter from Mrs. N., who is in Athens, Georgia. She says that some members of congress had just passed through Covington on their way to Atlanta. They reported that Richmond had been given up in a hurry, and that the public archives and other valuables were left. The congressmen were still hopeful of our success, as is also Mrs. N.
It is reported that Atlanta or Macon is to be the seat of government, but I can not see how that can be, as we have no army in either place, and the enemy is now all around us, and our railroads torn up in every direction. All this puzzles me much that I intend to give over thinking about it, and await the issue.
A day or two ago word was brought that our hospitals were to make another exodus; they are to go to North Carolina. I dislike leaving this nice place, but shall be glad to get near the army. But I scarcely think they will let us ladies go, as at least for a hundred miles of the road every thing will have to be moved on teams.
