Trod again my childhood's track,
And felt its very gladness.

In those childish days, whenever came dreams Of household splendor or
festal rooms or gay illuminations, the lights in my vision were always
wax candles burning with a soft radiance that enchanted every scene....
And, lo! here on this spring day of '63, with war raging through the
land, I was in a fine house, and had my wax candles sure enough; but,
alas! they were neither cerulean blue nor rose-tinted, but dirty brown;
and when I lighted one, it spluttered and wasted like any vulgar tallow
thing, and lighted only a desolate scene in the vast handsome room. They
were not so good as the waxen rope we had made in Arkansas. So, with a
long sigh for the dreams of youth, I return to the stern present in this
besieged town--my only consolation to remember the old axiom, "A city
besieged is a city taken,"--so if we live through it we shall be out of
the Confederacy. H. is very tired of having to carry a pass around in
his pocket and go every now and then to have it renewed. We have been so
very free in America, these restrictions are irksome.

_May 9._--This morning the door-bell rang a startling peal. Martha being
busy, I answered it. An orderly in gray stood with an official envelop
in his hand.

"Who lives here?"

"Mr. L."

Very imperiously--"Which Mr. L.?"