March, Sunday 13, 1864
Hopes, what are they? Beads of morning
Strung on Slender blades of Grass,
Sweet is hope’s wild warbled air
But oh!— it’s echo is despair!
Today is the first anniversary of the happiest day in my life—just one short year ago, twas then on Friday morning, he came for me to walk onthe hill to listen to the echoes of our triumph at Fort Pemberton (Greenwood)—I rushed on to meet my fate, oh! God that it had never overtaken me—yet tis the brightest spot in my sad life—his love—in reviewing my diary for ’63 I find in this day a quotation from Raphael which has indeed found its moral. Oh! who in the course of his life has not felt some joy without a security, and without the certainty of a morrow. Time hath power over hours, none over the soul. Time had power over his heart, yet none over my true and holy love. Today he wooes the daughter of a more sunny clime—Miss Sallie Anderson of Mobile, may she never know the pangs of a deceived heart—I have spent the day alone in my little room, finished the book of John—bright and beautiful, though rather cool. Laura and Bettie went to Mrs. Wilson’s, all the whole family walking and enjoying themselves—tis just four o’clock—I will wait until after Tea to finish. I sat in the Parlor with the Father after Tea. Laura and Bettie speeled at Baker tonight—No Beulah or Tip—Laura & I alone. Oh! my heavenly Father humble my heart, and give me Christian patience.