Friday. The last day of my birth month signalized by my final happy admission to the Junior class. I believe I shall indulge in self congratulation after I have brought my record down to that occasion.
But before I relate the manner of my obtaining the ticket I must tell of my grievous disappointment in not getting it at first. I had been in on Tuesday evening before Cross and made up on Trigonometry and Surveying, leaving only three books of Geometry which I endeavored to prevail on him to excuse, promising to make up after I had received my ticket. He assured me that he would do his best, which promise added to Prof. Whittlesey’s left me little doubt on the question and in the evening I devoted myself to the task of sum making in which I distinguished myself. The following are some of my base attempts. Continue reading
Emma’s letter states that Lieut. Lowell is probably killed, as he was left desperately wounded on the field and has not been heard of since. Charlie Hunt is wounded and to return home for a short time. How I wish I could be where the bullets are flying, but my fate forbids and I submit. No letter yet from Etta though I am daily expecting one.
Charlie Andrews called in the afternoon, having found at last who the Rev. S. B. Craft is. We enjoyed ourselves “fighting our battles o’er again” and letting our respective adventures for an hour or two and arranged to go down together in the Tuesday evening boat.
George and I went to the Butler Combination Troupe’s performance in the Museum on Monday evening where I saw ballet dancing for the first time.
I am bound to say that my Puritanical education prevented my enjoyment of this part of the evening’s entertainment.
Diary of Horatio Fox [Civil War Miscellany]