[from the diary of Matthella Page Harrison as transcribed at a later date]
Tuesday Night, August 5th
Am sitting up tonight with my darling little baby, listening anxiously for every wail. Oh merciful God, spare my precious little one. I never knew until now how deep she was in my heart. I am so distressed I should have left her all day, but I thought her only a little unwell and thought it my duty to go see Cousin Margaret, but if my baby dies, I shall never cease to regret it. But oh, gracious God, spare me. Never to hear those sweet lips saying "mam" and never to hear the patter of those little feet. As I neared Paris today I was met by various men, all seemingly dreadfully frightened. they told me Paris was full of Yankees. I did not half believe the tale and went on. I went through Paris and on the outskirts saw twenty cavalry horses tied, the riders asleep in a grove. Nearer to Upperville I met about sixty more cavalry. I asked to see the Captain and asked him if I would have any difficulty going or returning home. He replied, "Of course not"' so I proceeded on my way. this evening on my way home I met them all returning through Upperville. I had to ford the river by moonlight, which was not very agreeable as I was my own driver and not well acquainted with the ford. Thanks to a kind providence we got safely across. I fear I will never see Cousin Margaret again. Friend after friend departs. When I returned I met Mr. and Mrs. Jones and brother Henry. They told me of a grand stampede of negroes from the neighborhood, ten from the Hall, seven from the Meadow, two from the Briars, one of ours. My darling babe is sleeping more quietly, thank God.