All of Uncle Peter’s scouts breakfasted here. Tuesday morning, Captain Sineath dined, and the great Lieut. Pettus was here this afternoon, and I in my room, and saw none of them. Uncle Peter returned home after dinner. Father and Mother spent the morning at Cedar Grove. Between Yankees, negroes and deserters, the house has literally been stripped of everything portable. All books we had left thrown over the house. Cousin Henry[61] came down from Aiken last week for the girls, carrying them Monday; stopped for good-bye. Saturday, April 29th. Saw, from my window, a foot-sore, weary looking pilgrim coming through the fields with his knapsack on his back--Uncle Edward! (Dr. Smith). The aunts so worried over our safety he had worked his way down from Pendleton. He tells us Johnston’s army has disbanded--Uncle E. brought letters, one containing an extract from one of James’s, the first time we have heard since he crossed the river. Mr. Mazyck Porcher has returned from the city, says the people are under an iron yoke; they are not allowed to know anything outside. Mr. Russell Middleton[62] was dreadfully treated on refusing to take the oath. Tuesday, 2nd May. We have been enjoying an armistice of thirty days. Pettus[63] came over this afternoon to tell us and that he and his scouts were ordered out and the armistice was over. Uncle Peter got so nervous; sent for Dr. Waring preparatory to moving to Cassawda, the Yankees having vowed vengeance against him, but the Doctor carried him to Chelsea after dark. We are anxious about Charlie (Snowden). Not knowing the armistice was over, Uncle Peter sent Uncle Ned in his buggy as far as Nelson’s Ferry. They left just after breakfast and now near 11, no Charlie yet. We move home tomorrow, Wednesday May 3rd. Uncle Peter lent his wagon to ride home in. Dr. Waring brought Uncle Peter this morning to gather his belongings and move right on to Cassawda. While we were waiting, something scared his horse; she dashed off over the yard in a wild run, smashing the buggy before she could be stopped. Cousin Thomas[64] passed down to-day on his way home, but did not stop. May 12th 1865. Have not the heart to write; I have hoped against hope; all is over! Our poor paroled prisoners are all coming home. Cousin John[65] has come, and I hear James[66] is on the road. JOURNAL LETTER KEPT BY MISS CHARLOTTE ST. J. RAVENEL OF POOSHEE PLANTATION FOR MISS META HEYWARD Pooshee, Feb., 1865. My dear Meta: As we are cut off from each other now, I will attempt to write for you, in journal form, an account of the trying times through which we are passing.