December 20th, 1861.—I spent today at Uncle Tom’s. His daughters are just the smartest, busiest people I ever saw. Cousin Mary Bernard and her three children and cousin Frances with her five are there, while Captain Bernard and Cousin Tom are at the front and Christmas is at hand. There are but few toys to be had, so they are dressing a large Christmas tree with most of the decorations of home manufacture. It is a beautiful tree. They have taken the bright-hued autumn leaves, dipped them in wax and pressed them with a warm iron; these are arranged in clusters and they reflect the light from dozens of tiny twisted Confederate lanterns. Long ropes of “Sodom Apples” lend an added brightness and strings of pop-corn make you think of the snow, which comes at Christmas in colder lands. It is so good of these kind, loving aunts to do so much for the children for I know they work with heavy hearts.
Mr. Routh and Cousin Sallie were to have been married in November, he could only have a three days’ leave of absence and the date was not quite certain, so she was almost ready with her preparations when the news of his death reached us. Her wedding dress was made and waiting and only a few last little things remained to be done. She fainted dead away at the terrible tidings and the next day she locked herself in her room and folded and put away, every article which had been made, in a big Saratoga trunk, locked it and hung the key around her neck. She is so pale and sad, it gives me the heart-ache to look at her. And yet, this is a part of war.
Susan Bradford is 15 years old when this entry was made.