Mr. Halsey brought us each a little tortoise-shell ring he
had made for us by his camp-fire, as a keepsake, and of course we promised to
wear them for him, particularly as they make our hands look as white as
possible. Towards sunset, in spite of prayers and entreaties from Miriam, who
insisted that I was too feeble to attempt it, I insisted on walking out to the
bench by the river to enjoy the cool breeze; and was rather glad I had come,
when soon after Dr. Capdevielle made his appearance, with two beautiful
bouquets which he presented with his French bow to us; and introducing his
friend, Mr. Miltonberger, entered into one of those lively discussions about
nothing which Frenchmen know how to make so interesting. . . .
No sooner had they left than, to our infinite surprise, the
immortal seven of Saturday night walked in. Wonder what fun they find in
coming? I see none. For we rarely trouble ourselves about their presence; there
are but two I have addressed as yet; one because I am forced to say yes or no
to his remarks, and the other because I like his banjo, which he brought again,
and feel obliged to talk occasionally since he is so accommodating, and affords
me the greatest amusement with his comic songs. I was about retiring
unceremoniously about twelve o'clock, completely worn out, when they finally
bethought themselves of saying good-night, and saved me the necessity of being
rude. Wonder if that is all the fun they have? I should say it was rather dry.
It is mean to laugh at them, though; their obliging dispositions should save
them from our ridicule. Last evening Mr. Halsey succeeded in procuring a large
skiff, whereupon four or five of them offered to row, and took us 'way down the
Tchefuncta through the most charming scenery to a spot where Echo answered us
in the most remarkable way; her distinct utterance was really charming. Not
being aware of the secret, I thought the first answer to the halloo was from
pickets. Mr. Halsey has a magnificent voice; and the echoes came back so full
and rich that soon we appointed him speaker by mutual consent, and were more
than repaid by the delightful sounds that came from the woods. The last ray of
the sun on the smooth waters; the soldiers resting on their oars while we tuned
the guitar and sang in the still evening, until twilight, slowly closing over,
warned us to return, forms another of those pictures indescribable though never
to be forgotten.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 364-6
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