Soon after came the hard times. Luxuries were given up, privation was felt in every home, but no one complained. People seemed proud to endure, and often met to exchange opinions and plans as to how to "make something out of nothing," as they expressed it. Old looms were brought out and repaired, and the spinning wheels were put to work. Flour, tea, coffee, and even salt ceased to be used on the family table. From the smoke-houses, where the salt meats had dripped for years, the salt-soaked earth was taken up, boiled in a vessel, the salt extracted, and dried in the sun. Sweet potatoes were sliced thin, cut in little pieces, browned in an oven, ground in a coffee mill, and a breakfast drink made from them. It looked like coffee, it was not injurious, so it was cheerfully taken in place of fragrant Mocha. Okra seed, parched corn meal, and parched peanuts were also used for making a morning drink. "Confederate cake" was made by sifting corn meal through a sieve, and then through cloth. Rice was harvested, and husked in a wooden mortar, a work which required time and strength. All dress-goods became scarce--calico was $4 per yard and very hard to get. Jaunty dresses were made of coarse yellow domestic, piped with bright colors. No hats could be purchased, but stylish turbans were made of old straw covered with scraps of black silk or velvet, and were worn with pride, and called "Beauregard" hats. This recalls a song that was very popular in Louisiana during the war. It is a wee bit touching to read it over now, for the Southern girls, daintily reared, sadly missed their fine linen, their soft silks and sheer muslins. The song was sung to the air of "The Bonny Blue Flag." "Oh, yes, I am a Southern girl, I glory in the name, And boast it with far greater pride Than glittering wealth or fame. "I envy not the Northern girl, Her robes of beauty rare; Though diamonds grace her snowy neck And pearls bedeck her hair. "My homespun dress is plain, I know, My hat's palmetto, too, But then it shows what Southern girls For Southern Rights will do." The war dragged on. New Orleans fell. Baton Rouge was in the hands of the enemy. Some of the Baton Rouge people refugeed to the country, living in churches, schoolhouses and deserted log cabins; others were compelled to remain, as they had no shelter and no means of living outside of the city. Then followed the sieges on the Mississippi River, Port Hudson, and Vicksburg. Night after night and all day long we could hear the heavy guns booming and the deadly shells hissing, and we had no means of knowing how our armies were faring. I remember the sad and anxious dread which came over me every time a gun was fired, and how I covered my head with pillows to shut out the fearful sound.