We dined at Mrs. McCord's. She is as strong a cordial for
broken spirits and failing heart as one could wish. How her strength contrasts
with our weakness. Like Doctor Palmer, she strings one up to bear bravely the
worst. She has the intellect of a man and the perseverance and endurance of a
woman.
We have lost nearly all of our men, and we have no money,
and it looks as if we had taught the Yankees how to fight since Manassas. Our
best and bravest are under the sod; we shall have to wait till another
generation grows up. Here we stand, despair in our hearts (“Oh, Cassandra,
don't!” shouts Isabella), with our houses burning or about to be, over our
heads.
The North have just got things ship-shape; a splendid army,
perfectly disciplined, with new levies coming in day and night. Their gentry do
not go into the ranks. They hardly know there is a war up there.
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 335-6
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