Wednesday.
Emma’s letter states that Lieut. Lowell is probably killed, as he was left desperately wounded on the field and has not been heard of since. Charlie Hunt is wounded and to return home for a short time. How I wish I could be where the bullets are flying, but my fate forbids and I submit. No letter yet from Etta though I am daily expecting one.
Charlie Andrews called in the afternoon, having found at last who the Rev. S. B. Craft is. We enjoyed ourselves “fighting our battles o’er again” and letting our respective adventures for an hour or two and arranged to go down together in the Tuesday evening boat.
George and I went to the Butler Combination Troupe’s performance in the Museum on Monday evening where I saw ballet dancing for the first time.
I am bound to say that my Puritanical education prevented my enjoyment of this part of the evening’s entertainment.