girls, and even little boys, learned to knit.  Each tried to get ahead as to number and quality.  Ladies’ stockings were also knitted of all grades from stout and thick to gossamer or open-work, etc.  Homespun dresses were proudly worn, and it became a matter of constant experiment and great pride to improve the quality and vary colors.  Warp and woof were finely spun, and beautiful combinations of colors ventured upon, although older heads eschewed them, and in consequence complacently wore their clean, smoothly-ironed gray, “pepper-and-salt,” or brown homespuns long after the gayer ones had been faded by sun or water and had to be “dipped.”  Hats and bonnets of all sorts and sizes were made of straw or palmetto, and trimmed with the same.  Most of them bore cockades of bright red and white (the “red, white, and red"), fashioned of strips knitted to resemble ribbons.  Some used emblems denoting the State or city of the wearer, others a small Confederate battle-flag.  Young faces framed in these pretty hats, or looking out from under a broad-brim, appeared doubly bewitching.  Ladies worked early and late, first upon the fabric, and then upon beautifully-stitched homespun shirts, intended as gifts to favorite heroes returning to the front.  During the winter nights the light of pine-knot fires had sufficed, but now Confederate candles were used.  It did seem as if the bees were Southern sympathizers, and more faithfully than usual “improved each shining hour.”  The wax thus obtained was melted in large kettles, and yards of rags torn into strips and sewn together, then twisted to the size of lamp-wicks, were dipped into the liquid wax, cooled, and dipped again and again until of the right size.  These yards of waxed rags were wound around a corncob or a bottle, then clipped, leaving about two yards “closely wound” to each candle.  One end was left loose to light, and—­here you have the recipe for Confederate candles.

When I came through the lines I was refused permission to bring any baggage; therefore my supply of clothing was exceedingly small.  I had, however, some gold concealed about my person, and fortunately procured with it a plain wardrobe.  This I had carefully treasured, but now it was rapidly diminishing.  At least I must have one new dress.  It was bought,—­a simple calico, and not of extra quality.  The cost was three hundred dollars! With the exception of a plain muslin bought the following summer for three hundred and fifty dollars, it was my only indulgence in the extravagance of dress during the whole war.  Two pretty gray homespuns made in Alabama were my standbys.