March 14th. Tuesday. James’s birthday; the hardest part of being cut off as we are is hearing nothing of those we care for beyond the river. To our delight part of the Pooshee colony ventured over this morning; a party of women and children headed by Cousin Henry’s[43] patriarchal figure mounted on old Uncle’s little white pony. We were glad to see some friendly white faces and have someone to talk to. Have got the true story of the Blue Hole skirmish. Charlie Snowden had set the negroes at Cassawda to work. The troopers were at Springplains;[44] saw them, dashed over and demanded their master. On being told where he was, set out after him at Blue Hole. Charlie, knowing all the byways and short cuts escaped and brought the scouts to meet them. How the fight went we can’t understand as the stories contradict each other, but the vandals turned Mrs. Snowden[45] out into the kitchen, saying that was good enough for her. Stripped the house of everything; distributed or destroyed all they could get hold of. The next morning the scouts were very much mortified by Mrs. Snowden’s conduct; they returned to reinstate her in her house and get back at least some of her things. She implored them to leave her, not to come near her; that they brought trouble and distress wherever they went. We heard nothing of poor Charlie. Wednesday, 15th March. Kate Porcher stopped here on her way to Black Oak. She is certainly brave, went all alone in her sulky with only Samuel behind, Mr. Edward Mazyck was stopped on the road and had his horse taken from him. * * * Near dark a woman rode up on a sorry looking horse, asking shelter for the night. It was pouring rain; she seemed drenched. Poor soul, I am sorry for her. Mother and Aunt Nenna are possessed with the idea that she is a man in disguise; certainly she is masculine looking in her stride &c. This is her story; she is a Georgian, came to Charleston to see her brother in the hospital. The railroads were cut, and her brother moved. She got as far as Mr. Hare’s, near Pinopolis. After waiting three weeks to find some way of getting home, giving up in despair bought an old horse and saddle and started on her lonely journey to Orangeburg, where she has friends who will help her on her road. She is an Atlanta refugee and has been living with a brother in Southern Georgia. She says we don’t know what trouble is as yet. She stood with many others and saw her home burnt in Atlanta. When the war commenced, she had property, a husband and four brothers; all gone but two brothers, and all she owns is in two trunks. 16th March. Mother was so anxious to get letters across the river, that, notwithstanding our suspicions she gave a kind of diary[46] letter of all we had gone through for the aunts in Walhalla, to the woman’s care when we started her off on her journey this morning.