My cripple friend that I mentioned so far back continues to
send me the most affecting messages. “He is really wretched about me; never was
more distressed; thinks of nothing else”; and so on through the whole list. To
cap the climax, he sends me word that he can now walk on crutches, and the
first time he can venture in a buggy, means to call on me. Que le ciel m’en preserve!
What could we talk about? “His’n” and “her’n” several misfortunes? That's
too bad! Every one teases me unmercifully about my new conquest. I can't help
but be amused; and yet, beware, young girls, of expressing sympathy, even for
soldiers! There is no knowing what effect it may produce.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 301-2
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