The weather is now delightful and summer like. All are busy planting and clearing the land. Cabbages and radishes are up. As much as I wish to go North I feel reluctant to leave this beautiful climate that has been so conducive to health. My bronchial troubles give me a dread of chilling winds and snow banks. We have taken no steps yet for obtaining a passport. The difficulties seem to me almost insurmountable; but Mr. Fisher has more hope and resolution. Gen. Clinch is far from us and our means of transportation is limited and poor. We have not been able for some weeks to procure postage stamps so that we can not write letters. Sybil is trying to make a pair of shoes from hide of home made tanning. Mr. Fisher suffers with his heavy army shoes. Fred does not like to appear with holes in his forty-five dollar shoes, and poor little Clarence is scuffing around in anything that can be tied on. The negroes are bare footed. Shoes are not to be thought of for them. Oh! how we all long for a time of peace and plenty, for our once happy land that was flowing with milk and honey.

        Yesterday I told Mr. Fisher I had been preparing some little things in anticipation of going home. "Oh!" he says, "it revives me to hear you say so". We retire early to forget the lonliness, at the same time admitting that we have many comforts.