Camp Near Charlotte,
February 28.
I thank you a thousand, thousand times for your kind
letters. They are now my only earthly comfort, except the hope that all is not
yet lost. We have been driven like a wild herd from our country. And it is not
from a want of spirit in the people or soldiers, nor from want of energy and
competency in our commanders. The restoration of Joe Johnston, it is hoped,
will redound to the advantage of our cause and the reestablishment of our
fortunes! I am still in not very agreeable circumstances. For the last four
days completely water-bound.
I am informed that a detachment of Yankees were sent from
Liberty Hill to Camden with a view to destroying all the houses, mills, and
provisions about that place. No particulars have reached me. You know I
expected the worst that could be done, and am fully prepared for any report
which may be made.
It would be a happiness beyond expression to see you even
for an hour. I have heard nothing from my poor old father. I fear I shall never
see him again. Such is the fate of war. I do not complain. I have deliberately
chosen my lot, and am prepared for any fate that awaits me. My care is for you,
and I trust still in the good cause of my country and the justice and mercy of
God.
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 355-6
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