I was interrupted yesterday morning by Mrs. Badger, who
wished to apply a few dry cups to my back, to which I quietly submitted, and
was unable to move afterwards without pain, as a reward for my patience. But
towards sunset came two dear letters that made me forget what I had suffered,
one from George, and one from Jimmy, dated Bermudas. For the first time I know
what my dear little brother suffered during those long months when we could not
hear if he were dead or alive. He kept the secret until he no longer needed
either friends or money; and now he tells it with a simplicity that made me cry
fit to break my heart when I was left alone in the twilight with no one to see.
. . . George comforts me with hopes of
Peace, and a speedy return. If it could only be! . . .
This morning the boom of Yankee guns reached my ears; a
sound I had hoped never to hear again. It is only those poor devils (I can
afford to pity them in their fallen state) banging away at some treasonable
sugar-houses that are disobedient enough to grind cane on the other side of the
river. I hear that one is at Mrs. Cain's. The sound made my heart throb. What
if the fight should come off before I can walk? It takes three people to raise
me whenever it is necessary for me to move; I am worse than helpless.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 288-9
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