Page:The Story of Aunt Becky's Army-Life .djvu/208

168 our camp. How can they do that dreadful, deliberate murder—for I can call it nothing else—when the defenceless man stands by his coffin on the brink of his open grave, and the hands of his comrades send to his bosom the deadly messengers! It is not right to take life away; reason, instinct, conscience, all rebel against the dreadful sin; and it is a foul black one.

Miss Blackman was in, and made me a good long visit. She is such an estimable young woman, every one admires and respects her. I think something less than a "Saratoga " would hold her wardrobe as well as my own. She has no fear of spoiling white hands, nor shrinks from dirty uniforms, as the poor fellows come in, suffering from the battle-field.

I used once to think my cloth house was pleasant; but now it seems so close and lonely, I cannot bear the confinement; and I long and long, and not in vain, I hope, for the end to come, and to get under a roof which does not let the water on to my bed, nor put out my fire when I most need it.

1em The rain has cleared away, but it is cold, and the wind is bitter, as March winds usually are thought to be. I have made my rounds amongst the sick, but feel so depressed, I can hardly account for it. Why can one not be happy in every and any position, if only satisfied that they fill a needed want?

But that is a problem not yet solved in man's philosophy, and must remain dark till the end of time.