It Was A Terrible Night, Probably
The One That Has Exacted, Or Will Exact, The Greatest Self-Control, As
It Was The One Before The Burial.
In civil life a poor widow can often live right on in her old home,
but in the Army, never!
Mrs. White will have to give up the quarters
just as soon as she and the little baby are strong enough to travel.
She has been in a warm climate many years, and her friends are all in
the North, so to-morrow a number of us are to commence making warm
clothing for her and the children. She has absolutely nothing of the
kind, and seems to be pitifully helpless and incapable of thinking for
herself.
Soon after I got home this morning and was trying to get a little
sleep, I heard screams and an awful commotion across the hall in one
of Mrs. Hunt's rooms, and running over to see what was the matter, I
found Mrs. Hunt standing upon a chair, and her cook running around
like a madman, with a stick of wood in his hand, upsetting furniture
and whacking things generally. I naturally thought of a mouse, and not
being afraid of them, I went on in and closed the door. I doubt if
Mrs. Hunt saw me, she was so intently watching the man, who kept on
upsetting things. He stopped finally, and then held up on the wood a
snake - a dead rattlesnake! We measured it, and it was over two feet
long.
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