The sad Christmas has passed away. J. and C. were with us,
and very cheerful. We exerted ourselves to be so too. The Church services in
the morning were sweet and comforting. St. Paul's was dressed most elaborately
and beautifully with evergreens; all looked as usual; but there is much sadness
on account of the failure of the South to keep Sherman back. When we got home
our family circle was small, but pleasant. The Christmas turkey and ham were
not. We had aspired to a turkey, but finding the prices range from $50 to $100
in the market on Saturday, we contented ourselves with roast-beef and the
various little dishes which Confederate times have made us believe to be
tolerable substitutes for the viands of better days. At night I treated our
little party to tea and ginger cakes — two very rare indulgences; and but for
the sorghum, grown in our own fields, the cakes would be an impossible
indulgence. Nothing but the well-ascertained fact that Christmas comes but once
a year would make such extravagance at all excusable. We propose to have a
family gathering when the girls come home, on the day before or after New
Year's day, (as that day will come on Sunday,) to enjoy together, and with one
or two refugee friends, the contents of a box sent the girls by a young officer
who captured it from the enemy, consisting of white sugar, raisins, preserves,
pickles, spices, etc. They threaten to give us a plum-cake, and I hope they
will carry it out, particularly if we have any of our army friends with us.
Poor fellows, how they enjoy our plain dinners when they come, and how we love
to see them enjoy them! Two meals a day has become the universal system among
refugees, and many citizens, from necessity. The want of our accustomed tea or
coffee is very much felt by the elders. The rule with us is only to have tea
when sickness makes it necessary, and (he headaches gotten up about dark have
become the joke of the family. A country lady, from one of the few spots in all
Virginia where the enemy has never been, and consequently where they retain
their comforts, asked me gravely why we did not substitute milk for tea. She
could scarcely believe me when I told her that we had not had milk more than
twice in eighteen months, and then it was sent by a country friend. It is now
$4 a quart.
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 323-4
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