June 2nd, 1864.—There are many aching hearts in our land these bright, beautiful summer days. If it was not for the little children, who do not realize the danger we are facing, I do not believe we could stand it. Bless their dear young hearts, which are so light that they overflow with merriment no matter how black everything looks to us.
Fighting is almost continuous now and there is not standing room around the bulletin board, to do more than get a hurried glance at the list of “Killed, Wounded and Missing.” Oh, those horrible words, I seem to see them in letters of fire when I wake in the night.
Father has a very sick patient and Mother is helping to nurse him. Mrs. Manning, Aunt Robinson and I have been busy packing a large box of clothing to be sent tomorrow to the army of Northern Virginia.
A late supper of rice-cakes, Irish potatoes and squabs, cooked in Adeline’s best style, finished the day. It is now 10 o’clock and everybody ought to be abed and asleep. We will not hear from the front tonight. May the news, when we hear it, be good.
