"Our room is large, and, mother, I have two bureaus and a wardrobe, and lose my things constantly, I am so unused to so much room. We women hardly knew what to make of the absence of looking-glasses, as the house is otherwise furnished, until it occurred to us that the former occupants wouldn't get much good out of a mirror. It isn't so necessary to have one, after all, as I got on all summer very well, after I learned to brush my hair straight back and not try to part it. I have a mirror now, and am wrestling with back hair again."
"I confess to you, mother, it is a comfort to get out of bed on to a carpet, and dress by a fire; but don't tell Armstrong I said so, as I never mentioned to him that dressing before day, my eyes streaming with tears from the camp-fire while I took an ice-water bath, was not the mode of serving my country that I could choose."
"Last Sunday it was uncomfortably warm. We wore thin summer clothes, and were languid from the heat. The thermometer was eighty-two in the shade. On Monday the weather changed from heat to cold in five minutes, in consequence of the sudden and violent winds which are called 'northers.'"
"No one prepares for the cold in this country, but there was a general scattering when our first norther attacked us. Tom rushed for wood, and of course none was cut. He fished Tex out from the kitchen, borrowed an axe from one of the headquarters men, and soon appeared with an armful. As he took the sticks from Tex to build the fire, out dropped a scorpion to add to the excitement. It was torpid, but nevertheless it was a scorpion, and I took my usual safe position, in the middle of the bed, till there was an auto da fe. The loose windows rattled, and the wind howled around the corner of our room. I put a sack and shawl over my summer dress, and we shivered over Tom's fire. I rather wondered at Armstrong's huddling, as he is usually so warm, but each act of these boys needs investigating. By and by he went off to write, while father Custer took out his pipe, to calm the troubled scene into which the rush of Nova Zembla had thrown us. He sat 'way under the mantel to let the tobacco-smoke go up the chimney. Pretty soon Autie returned and threw some waste paper on the fire, and the next thing we all started violently back from a wild pyrotechnic display. With the papers went in a handful of blank cartridges, and these innocent-looking scamps faced their father and calmly asked him why he had jumped half-way across the room. They often repeat this Fourth-of-July exhibition with fire-crackers, either tied to his chair, or tossed carelessly on the burning logs, when his attention is attracted elsewhere. But don't pity him, mother. No matter what trick they play, he is never phased. He matches them too, and I help him, though I am obliged to confess I often join in the laugh, it is all so funny. This was not the last of the hullabaloo. The wood gave out and Autie descended for more. Tex took this occasion, when everyone was hunting a fire and shelter from the cold, to right what he considered a grievous wrong. Autie found him belaboring another colored boy, whom he had 'downed.' Autie investigated, for if Tex was right he was bound to let the fight proceed. You know in his West Point days he was arrested for allowing a fisticuff to go on, and because he said, 'Stand back, boys, and let's have a fair fight.' But finding our boy in the wrong, he arraigned him, and began, 'Did you strike Jake with malice aforethought?' 'No sah! no sah! I dun struck him with the back of the hatchet.' At this Autie found himself no longer a 'most righteous judge.' This Daniel beat a quick retreat, red with suppressed laughter, and made Tom go down to do the punishing. Tom shut Tex in the chicken-coop; but it was hard for me to see from my window his shiny eyes looking out from between the slats, so they made the sentence light, and he was set free in the afternoon."
"Now, mother, I have established the only Yankee wood-pile in Texas. I don't mean to be caught again, and shrivel up as we did this time. You don't know how these storms deceive you. One hour we are so suffocated with the heavy, oppressive air, we sit in the deep window-sills and pant for breath. Along comes a roaring sound through the tree-tops, and there's a scatter, I can tell you. We bang down the windows, and shout for Texas to hunt the wood-pile, jump into warm clothes, and before we are fairly prepared, the hurricane is upon us. We really don't mind it a bit, as it doesn't last long (once it lasted three days), besides, it is so good to be in something that isn't going to blow down, as we momentarily expected in a tent. Our Sundays pass so slowly! The traveling-wagon holds a good many, and we don't mind close quarters, so we all squeeze in, and the bachelor officers ride with us to church. The Episcopal church is still open, but as they have no fires we would be glad if the rector warmed us up with his eloquence a little more. However, it's church, and we begin to feel semi-civilized."
"The citizens are constantly coming to pay their respects to Armstrong. You see, we were welcomed instead of dreaded, as, Yankees or no Yankees, a man's life is just as good, preserved by a Federal soldier as by a Confederate, and everybody seems to be in a terrified state in this lawless land. Among the callers is one man that will interest you, father. I believe you are considered authority on the history of the fight that took place at Monroe, when the Kentucky regiment fought the British in 1812. Well, whom do you think we have found down here, but the old Colonel Groome who distinguished himself that day? He is a white-headed old soldier, and when Autie told him that we were right from Monroe, he was so affected the tears came to his eyes. It was he that set the barn on fire to prevent the British using it as a fortification for sharp-shooters. He crawled away from the burning building on his hands and knees, while their bullets cut his clothes and wounded him several times. Years afterward he met an old British officer, who told him, in their talk, that the man who fired the barn was killed by his own army, but Colonel Groome, in quite a dramatic way, said, 'No! I am the man.' He says that he would like to see you so much. Autie is greatly interested in this veteran, and we are going to call on him, and get two game chickens he is to give us."
"Now, father, don't wrinkle up your brows when I tell you that we race horses. Even I race with Mrs. L——, and much as you may disapprove, I know my father too well not to be sure he will be glad that his only daughter beat. But let me explain to you that racing among ourselves is not your idea of it. There is no money at stake, no rough crowd, none of the evils of which you may well disapprove, as we know horse-racing at home. Armstrong is considered the best judge of a horse here. The Texans supposed no one in the world could ride as well as themselves, and they do ride splendidly, but those who saw Armstrong keep his place in the saddle when Don Juan ran away with him at the grand review in Washington, concede that he does know how to ride, however mistaken his views on patriotism may be. We have now three running horses and a fast pony, none of which has beaten. Autie's bay pony beat a crack runner of which the town boasts, by three full lengths. The races are near our quarters, so we women can be in it all. Indeed, there is nothing they do not share with us."