They thwart all my plans, murder my friends, and make my life miserable.
Jan. 13th, Friday
Col. Blake, a refugee from Mississippi, and his sister-in-law, Miss Connor, dined with us. While the gentlemen lingered over their wine after dinner, we ladies sat in the parlor making cigarettes for them.
The evening was spent at cards, which bored me not a little, for I hate cards; they are good for nothing but to entertain stupid visitors with, and Col. Blake and Miss Connor do not belong in that category.
Mett says she don't like the old colonel because he is too pompous, but that amuses me,--and then, he is such a gentleman.
The newspapers bring accotting tired of seeing the same faces so often.
Albert Bacon and Jim Chiles came home with us, and we enjoyed the evening.
Capt. Rust is a dear old fellow, and Miss Connor and Maj. Camp added a little variety.
Capt. Rust and Mr. Bacon proposed a ride across country for the morning, but there is not a riding habit in the family, n