13
July 1862. From Mary.
I feel quite pert after the cool rain we had yesterday. I hope it isn’t as cold at night
up the Valley. Tell Beards he didn’t take all the rain away from here this time when he
headed back to camp, and he also left the cold air behind. I suppose I shouldn’t
complain about the rain, it was welcome after such a dry May and June. Beards also
left behind a bit of sadness, I confess. He came by to call, and because I told Ma about
our vow¹ to be sweethearts, she left us alone in the parlor² for an afternoon. I believe I
love him more with each passing week. You can tell him that he is sorely missed
around here.
Law, Tom, your jaw³ would drop if you could see the poverty of the merchants in
Staunton these days. Pa set off last week to get provisions, but there were none to be
had. Mr. Sampson’s market was shut tight, as were Mr. Wilson’s bakery, the shoe
stores, hardware and seed merchants, the American Hotel, and even all the taverns⁴.
Nary a crumb⁵ of sugar or coffee could be bought for all the gold in China! Prices for
flour have risen from six dollars a barrel last year up to as much as forty dollars, and
butter has risen from twenty cents a pound to as much as two dollars a pound. There
simply is no salt, not even for rich people.
Pa finished his first harvest last Monday. He had no help, but for young Jackie
Beard one day and old Mr. York, who must be in his seventies, the next two. He could
scarcely find time to be in the field because folks dragged one sack after another to the
mill. Farmers around here are not storing their grains but are having them ground
immediately after harvest. Pa says it’s because they want to take advantage of current
government prices.
But I believe they are convinced that if their grain is in sacks rather than a silo, it
can be better hid under floorboards and in attics⁶, safe from both armies’ soldiers. I
tell you, Tom, folks this year don’t want to give up their all for the Confederacy. The

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