Nov. 20, 1862. (Vicksburg.)—A fair morning for my journey back to Vicksburg. The autumn woods were shining through a veil of silvery mist and the spicy breezes blew cool and keen from the heart of the pines, a friend sat beside me, a husband’s welcome awaited me. General Pemberton, recently appointed to the command at [...]
Warning The following diary entry contains wording that is offensive to many in the world of today. However, the entry is provided unedited for its historical content and context. Nov. 15, 1862.—Yesterday a letter was handed me from H. Grant’s army was moving, he wrote, steadily down the Mississippi Central and might cut the road [...]
Oct. 31.—Mr. W. said last night the farmers felt uneasy about the “Emancipation Proclamation” to take effect in December. The slaves have found it out, though it had been carefully kept from them. “Do yours know it?” I asked. “Oh, yes. Finding it to be known elsewhere, I told it to mine with fair warning [...]
Oct. 28, 1862.—It is a month to-day since I came here. I only wish H. could share these benefits—the nourishing food, the pure aromatic air, the sound sleep away from the fevered life of Vicksburg. He sends me all the papers he can get hold of, and we both watch carefully the movements reported, lest [...]
Oak Haven, Oct. 3.—To get a house in V. proved impossible, so we agreed to part for a time till H. could find one. A friend recommended this quiet farm, six miles from ______ (a station on the Jackson Railroad). On last Saturday H. came with me as far as Jackson and put me on [...]
Thursday, Sept. 18, 1862. (Thanksgiving Day.)—We staid three days at the Washington Hotel; then a friend of H.’s called and told him to come to his house till he could find a home. Boarding-houses have all been broken up, and the army has occupied the few houses that were for rent. To-day H. secured a [...]
Sunday, Sept. 7., (Vicksburg, Washington Hotel)—H. did not return for three weeks. An epidemic disease broke out in his uncle’s family and two children died. He staid to assist them in their trouble. Tuesday evening he returned for me and we reached Vicksburg yesterday. It was my first sight of the “Gibraltar of the South.” [...]
Aug. 11, 1862.—We cannot get to New Orleans. A special passport must be shown, and we are told that to apply for it would render H. very likely to be conscripted. I begged him not to try; and as we hear that active hostilities have ceased at Vicksburg, he left me this morning to return [...]
Oak Ridge, July 26, 1862, Saturday.—It was not till Wednesday that H. could get into Vicksburg, ten miles distant, for a passport, without which we could not go on the cars. We started Thursday morning. I had to ride seven miles on a hard-trotting horse to the nearest station. The day was burning at white [...]
This morning there was a most painful scene.1 Annie’s father came into Vicksburg, ten miles from here, and learned of our arrival from Mrs. C.’s messenger. He sent out a carriage to bring Annie and Max to town that they might go home with him, and with it came a letter for me from friends [...]
Sunday, July 20, 1862.—A little way down the Yazoo on Friday we ran into McNutt’s Lake, thence into Chickasaw Bayou, and at dark landed at Mrs. C.’s farm, the nearest neighbors of H.’s uncle. The house was full of Confederate sick, friends from Vicksburg, and while we ate supper all present poured out the story [...]
Friday morning, July 18, 1862. (House of Col. K., on Yazoo River.)—After leaving the raft yesterday all went well till noon, when we came to a narrow place where an immense tree lay clear across the stream. It seemed the insurmountable obstacle at last. We sat despairing what to do, when a man appeared beside [...]
Thursday, July 17, 1862. (On a raft in Steele’s Bayou.)—Yesterday we went on nicely awhile and at afternoon came to a strange region of rafts, extending about three miles, on which persons were living. Many saluted us, saying they had run away from Vicksburg at the first attempt of the fleet to shell it. On [...]
Wednesday, July 16, 1862. (Under a tree on the bank of Steele’s Bayou.)—Early this morning our boat was taken out of the Mississippi and put on Mr. Fetler’s ox-cart. After breakfast we followed on foot. The walk in the woods was so delightful that all were disappointed when a silvery gleam through the trees showed [...]
Tuesday, July 15, 1862.—Sunday night about ten we reached the place where, according to our map, Steele’s Bayou comes nearest to the Mississippi, and where the landing should be, but when we climbed the steep bank there was no sign, of habitation. Max walked off into the woods on a search, and was gone so [...]
Sunday, July 13, 1862. (Under a tree on the east bank of the Mississippi.)—Late on Saturday evening we reached a plantation whose owner invited us to spend the night at his house. What a delightful thing is courtesy! The first tone of our host’s welcome indicated the true gentleman. We never leave the oars with [...]
Saturday, July 12, 1862. (Under a cotton-shed on the bank of the Mississippi River.)—Thursday was a lovely day, and the sight of the broad river exhilarating. The negroes launched and reloaded the boat, and when we had paid them and spoken good-bye to them we felt we were really off. Every one had said that [...]
Thursday, July 10, 1862. (____ Plantation.)—Yesterday about 4 o’clock we walked to the lake and embarked. Provisions and utensils were packed in the lockers, and a large trunk was stowed at each end. The blankets and cushions were placed against one of them, and Annie and I sat on them Turkish fashion. Near the center [...]
Tuesday, July 8, 1862.—We start to-morrow. Packing the trunks was a problem. Annie and I are allowed one large trunk apiece, the gentlemen a smaller one each, and we a light carpet-sack apiece for toilet articles. I arrived with six trunks and leave with one! We went over everything carefully twice, rejecting, trying to shake [...]
Friday, June 27.—As soon as the cook was up again, we resumed preparations. We put all the clothing in order and had it nicely done up with the last of the soap and starch. “I wonder,” said Annie, “when I shall ever have nicely starched clothes after these? They had no starch in Natchez or [...]
June 20, 1862.—As soon as our intended departure was announced, we were besieged by requests for all sorts of things wanted in every family—pins, matches, gunpowder, and ink. One of the last cases H. and Max had before the stay-law stopped legal business was the settlement of an estate that included a country store. The [...]
June 16.—Max got back this morning. H. and he were in the parlor talking and examining maps together till dinner-time. When that was over they laid the matter before us. To buy provisions had proved impossible. The planters across the lake had decided to issue rations of corn-meal and peas to the villagers whose men [...]
June 15, 1862.—Max got back to-day. He started right off again to cross the lake and interview the planters on that side, for they had not suffered from overflow. Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were [...]
June 13.—Since the water ran off, we have, of course, been attacked by swamp fever. H. succumbed first, then Annie, Max next, and then I. Luckily, the new Dr. Y. had brought quinine with him, and we took heroic doses. Such fever never burned in my veins before or sapped strength so rapidly, though probably [...]
Monday, June 2, 1862.—On last Friday morning, just three weeks from the day the water rose, signs of its falling began. Yesterday the ground appeared, and a hard rain coming down at the same time washed off much of the unwholesome débris. To-day is fine, and we went out without a boat for a long [...]