Diary of a Southern Refugee, Judith White McGuire.

November 7.—The snow falling rapidly—the trees and shrubs in full leaf, and the rose-bushes, in bright bloom, are borne down by the snow. Our poor soldiers! What are they to do to-night, without shelter, and without blankets? Everybody seems to be doing what they can to supply their wants; many persons are having carpets made into soldiers’ blankets. My brother J. told me that he had every chamber carpet in the house, except one, converted into coverlets; and this is by no means a singular instance. A number of coverlets, made of the most elegant Brussels carpeting, were sent by Mr. B., of Halifax County, the other day, to our hospital, with a request to Miss T. that blankets should be given from the hospital to the camp, as more easily transported from place to place, and the carpeting retained in the hospital. This was immediately done. The blankets that could be spared from private houses were given last winter. How it gladdens my heart when I see that a vessel has run the blockade, and arrived safely at some Southern port, laden with ammunition, arms, and clothing for the army! The Bishop and J. have just left us, for the council of the Southern Church, to meet at Augusta, Georgia. Oh that their proceedings may be directed by the All-wise Counsellor!