What has seen met our eyes when we left the house after the shelling?

Our pretty garden was strewn with cannonballs and pieces of broken shells, limbs not off

the trees, and the grape arbor a perfect wreck.

The house had been damaged considerably, several large holes torn through it, both in front

and back.

While we were deploring the damage that had been done, Lieutenant Eustace returned in

breathless haste to say that he had just heard an order from General Lee, red on Commerce

Street, saying that the women and children must leave the town, as he would destroy it

with shell that night, rather than let it fall into the hands of the enemy, who were rapidly

crossing the river on pontoon bridges.

They urged my mother to take her children and fly at once from the town.

After resisting until the men in despair were almost ready to drag her from her dangerous

situation, she finally consented to leave, the wildest confusion now reigned.

We left town by way of the old plank road, with batteries of Confederates on both sides.

The ground was rough and broken up by the tramping of soldiers and the heavy wagons and artillery

that had passed over it, so that it was difficult and tiresome to walk, and the sun got quite

warm by this time, and the snow was melting rapidly, the mud was simply indescribable.

When we got about two miles from town, we overtook many other refugees.

Some were camping by the way, and others were pressing on.

Some to country houses which were hospitably thrown open to wanderers from home, some

to Salem Church about three miles from Fredrick'sburg, where there was a large encampment.

Always bustle and confusion.

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