WHAT JUDITH SAW.–

Allow me to describe how I spent the day, at the time of the first arrival of the Federal fleet at this city. The first day that the fleet arrived, I and my sister, and a great many others, were wending out way to the levee. On our way we met a gentleman acquaintance of ours, who asked us if we were going to get some sugar. I felt quite indignant; but as I was in an amiable mood then, I forgave him with all my heart, as I had no wish to be angry only with those hateful secessionists, who were destroying all the sugar and cotton, and burning the ships and steamboats that had been left standing. If I had had the power over those that proposed it, I would have taken them all, women and men, and placed them in the burning ships, and there let them remain until secession and secessionists were consumed by the flames. I would have shown them no mercy. “Be merciful unto him that showeth mercy.” The next persons we met were a lady and gentleman–the lady appearing to be quite delighted at the sight of the cotton and ships burning. There were a great many others who had come to see the fleet–some with joyful hearts, once again to behold that time-honored flag, as it was unfurled to the breeze; others came for curiosity, and others with feelings of hate burning in their hearts, because they knew they were conquered, or would be in a short time. They foolishly depended upon some traitors to drive out the enemy when they came; but the cowards made good their escape when they heard that the fleet had arrived, leaving their dupes to take care of themselves the best way they could, telling them how vain is the help of man in an unjust cause. We were often stopped in our progress by the burning of the wharves and piles of cotton. We had gone a good distance, when right before us lay piles of cotton burning. We had our choice, either to return back the way we came, or jump across the cotton-piles. At last we came to the conclusion that we would do the jumping; so we selected a pile that we thought had been well burned out, and my sister made the first leap; and as soon as she was over she exclaimed, “O my! but that was hot!” and told me that I had better find some other place to jump; but I wanted to have some experience in jumping cotton-piles; so over I went. When I was over I exclaimed with my sister–”O my! but that was hot!” and looking round to see what could have caused such heat, we saw the piles of cotton that we had jumped across burning. What appeared to have been all ashes to us, we found out by experience was a little too hot to be only ashes. We shook our dresses well, so as to make sure that there were no sparks on them, and went on our way rejoicing; but we made up our minds that the next time we jumped cotton-piles we would look before we leaped.

In looking at the ship burning, there was a young lady standing before us, who seemed quite unconscious about her dress burning, until told by us. Then there was another old lady, who was so absorbed in looking at the fleet, that she did not take notice of where she stood; and, being at the edge of the wharf, where it had been burned, the plank gave way, and she was precipitated into the river. Fortunately, she caught hold of another portion of the wharf, and two men assisted her out. No harm was done, but she was pretty much scared. Nothing of importance happened to us, until we noticed that one of the gunboats was coming towards our side of the river, (for the fleet was in the middle of the river.) I and my sister ran to see where it would land, so that we could get a good view. It landed near the St. Mary’s Market; so we took our position before the gunboat. As we were running along, three women, who were behind us, made some remarks, one of which I overheard: she said that all persons who seemed glad to see the Yankees ought to be punished. I turned round and told them if they did not like it, why did they not remain at home. They looked at me, as much as to say I was not worth answering, and we passed on. While we were standing before the gunboat, we waved our handkerchiefs towards the men on the boat, when one of the officers lifted his cap and bowed. This attracted the attention of the three women, who had come up to us, when the eldest of them touched my sister on the shoulder, and said, “Do you mean to say that you are waving your handkerchief at them?” pointing to the men on the gunboat. My sister saie it was none of her business, and I said: “Certainly.” Then she said: “You had better go to them.” I said I would if the boat came near enough, so that I could get in. The two younger ones called us rebels, and giving us a disdainful look, passed out of sight. You may be assured I was quite surprised on being addressed so unexpectedly; but for all that, we were ready to answer them or any other person. While the gunboat was leaving the wharf, we still continued waving our pocket handkerchiefs and bidding them good by. A man said to my sister: “Give me the handkerchief, and I will wave it for you.” My sister thanked him, and said she could wave it herself. She knew it was his intention to throw it into the river. As we came farther on, we noticed two young girls, one of them waving a small Confederate flag, and calling out to them–”Go back, you dirty Yankee devils; go back where you came from.” I asked, “Where are the dirty (not Yankee, but) secession devils?” and echo answered, there; and looking around I saw that it was those two young girls, the one still holding the flag and calling them names, and the other one assisting her. At last we left them, and returned home about six in the evening. We passed through Annunciation Square, which but a short while ago had been filled with tents and traitors, but now vacant. Only here and there could be seen some poor woman picking up some wood and bottles that were left by the brave defenders of the Confederacy, in their hurry to escape from the conquerors. From thence we passed on home.

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