Judith White McGuire, Diary of a southern refugee during the war, by a lady of Virginia

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[102] never forgot his interest in public affairs. The blessed Bible was first read to him, each morning, and then the news of the day. He had an eye for every thing; every movement of Government, every march of the troops, the aspect of Europe, and the Northern States, every thing civil and military, and all that belonged to God's Church upon earthdying as he had lived, true to Virginia, true to the South, true to the Church, and true to the Lord his God.

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Saturday night, March 15, 1862.

Spent to-day at the hospital. Heard of the shelling of Newbern, N. C., and of its fall. My heart sickens at every acquisition of the Federals. No further news from Arkansas. Yesterday evening L went to see the body of our dear Bishop; cut a piece of his hair; kissed his forehead, and took my last look at that revered face.

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Monday night, March 17, 1862.

This morning I was at the funeral, at St. Paul's Church; the service was read by the Rev. J. P. McGuire and Rev. C. J. Gibson. Bishop Johns made a most solemn address. The procession, long and sad, then wended its way to Hollywood Cemetery.

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March 15th, 1862.

Our army has fallen back to the Rappahannock, thus giving up the splendid Valley and Piedmont country to the enemy. This, I suppose, is right, but it almost breaks our hearts to think of it. Winchester was occupied last Wednesday! Lord, how long shall our enemies prosper? Give us grace to bear our trials.

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March 24th, 1862.

Our people continue to make every effort to repel the foe, who, like the locusts of Egypt, overrun our land, carrying the bitterest enmity and desolation wherever they go. Troops are passing through Richmond on their way to Goldsborough, N. C., where it is said that Burnside is expected to meet them. Everybody is busy in supplying their