Donelson is holding out bravely. I shudder to think of the
loss of life.
Notwithstanding the rain this morning, I renewed my pursuit
after lodgings. With over-shoes, cloak and umbrella, I defied the storm, and
went over to Grace Street, to an old friend who sometimes takes boarders. Her
house was full, but with much interest she entered into my feelings, and
advised me to go to Mr. L., who, his large school having declined, was filling
his rooms with boarders. His wife was the daughter of a friend, and might find
a nook for us. I thought of the “Hare and many friends,” and bent my steps
through the storm to the desired haven. To my surprise, Mrs. L. said we could
get a room; it is small, but comfortable, the terms suit our limited means, and
we will go as soon as they let us know that they are ready for us.
We have just been drawn to the window by sad strains of
martial music. The bodies of Captains Wise and Coles were brought by the cars,
under special escort. The military met them, and in the dark, cold night, it
was melancholy to see the procession by lamplight, as it passed slowly down the
street. Captain Wise has been carried to the Capitol, and Captain Coles to the
Central Depot, thence to be carried to-morrow to the family burying-ground at
Enniscorthy, in Albemarle County. Thus are the bright, glorious young men of
the Confederacy passing away. Can their places be supplied in the army? In the
hearts and homes of families there must ever be a bleeding blank.
SOURCE: McGuire, Judith W., Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 92
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