My birthday. While in Richmond, this morning, brother J. and
myself called on some friends, among others our relative Mrs. Isabella Harrison,
who has lately been celebrating the marriage of her only son, and took us into
the next room for a lunch of wine and fruit-cake. We had never, during two
years, thought of fruit-cake, and found it delightful. The fruit consisted of
dried currants and cherries from her garden, at her elegant James River home,
Brandon, now necessarily deserted. She fortunately was enabled to bring her
furniture to Richmond, and is the only refugee that I know who is surrounded by
home comforts.
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 200-1
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