No. 19 Dauphine St. – One year ago, in my little room in the
Camp Street house, I sat shivering over Tennyson and my desk, selfishly
rejoicing over the departure of a year that had brought pain and discomfort
only to me, and eagerly welcoming the dawning of the New One whose first days
were to bring death to George and Gibbes, and whose latter part was to separate
me from Miriam, and brings me news of Jimmy's approaching marriage. O sad,
dreary, fearful Old Year! I see you go with pain! Bitter as you have been, how
do we know what the coming one has in store for us? What new changes will it
bring? Which of us will it take? I am afraid of eighteen sixty-five, and have
felt a vague dread of it for several years past. Nothing remains as it was a
few months ago. Miriam went to Lilly, in the Confederacy, on the 19th of
October (ah! Miriam!), and mother and I have been boarding with Mrs.
Postlethwaite ever since. I miss her sadly. Not as much, though, as I would
were I less engaged. For since the first week in August, I have been teaching
the children for Sister; and since we have been here, I go to them every
morning instead of their coming to me. Starting out at half-past eight daily,
and returning a little before three, does not leave me much time for melancholy
reflections. And there is no necessity for indulging in them at present; they
only give pain.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 434-5
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