by John Beauchamp Jones
AUGUST 28TH.—A bright, pleasant day.
No news. Walked, as usual, to the department to see if any important letters had come, and then hastened back that the family might go to church in time.
Oh what a lovely day in such an unlovely time! The recent rains have washed the dust from the still dark-green leaves of the trees and vegetation in my little yard and garden, and they rustle in a genial sunlight that startles a memory of a similar scene, forty or more years ago! It is a holy Sabbath day upon the earth,—but how unholy the men who inhabit the earth! Even the tall garish sun-flowers, cherished for very memories of childhood’s days by my wife, and for amusement by my little daughter, have a gladdening influence on my spirits, until some object of scanty food or tattered garment forces upon the mind a realization of the reign of discord and destruction without. God grant there may be a speedy end of the war! And the words Armistice and Peace are found in the Northern papers and upon every one’s tongue here.
My tomato vines are looking well and are bearing well, now. My turnips are coming up everywhere. The egg-plants I nurtured so carefully have borne no fruit yet, but are going to blossom. The okras have recovered under the influence of recent showers, and have new blossoms.
Our agent inNorth Carolina has been delayed by illness, and has bought us no flour yet, but we still have hope. We trust that the enemy will not cut our communications with the South, since he has met with so many heavy mishaps in attempting it. Grant has attempted everything in his power to getRichmond, and was foiled in all. I hope he will withdraw soon. Why stay, with no prospect of success? A few days more may solve his purposes and plans, or Lee may have more enterprises against him.
It is a cloudless, silent, solemn Sabbath day, and I thank God for it!
