This is the Day of National Thanksgiving. Snow still on the ground. Miss Pollock called for us to go to church at the old school Presbyterian Church, just across the street. A good brick edifice capable of seating a thousand persons. Well grown evergreens in the yard which is surrounded by an ornamental iron fence. Mr. Lester pastor of the church preached from the text “Watchman what of the night,” &c, &c. It was more like a fast-day than a thanksgiving sermon, he dwelt much upon the great expense of the war, and drew sad pictures of the desolations it occasioned (and rather complimented the Democratic party on its good behavior since the Presidential election. He ventured to say that “between the North & South Slavery would be ground to powder and let all the people say Amen” -- He is I suppose really a Union man, but having a majority of copperheads in his congregation he trims his sails accordingly.
Kate who had to stay at home to take care of Thomas with Maria’s help got up a nice dinner, turkey with cranberry sauce, vegetables, cake, cheese, and canned quinces &c -- Maria is a contraband who escaped from Bortetout Co. Va. At the time of Hunters Raid, she is a good cook, but slow in her movements. She has a child 2 years old named Jennie Bell. She has been helping Kate two or three weeks.
Mr. McLean though quite unwell went to his own church. After noon two of his elders Mr. McCleery and Mr. Patterson called, both appeared to be intelligent men.
Here is a link to President Lincoln's Proclamation of Thanksgiving: