Entry by Cornelia Peake McDonald, March 17, 1863

March 17th ….. A Federal officer was struck in the street by a snowball today, as he was passing a group of boys, among whom was Harry. As Harry had one in his hand the officer concluded he had thrown it, and walking up to him peremptorily ordered him to throw it down. This Harry refused to do at his order, and he was immediately arrested, hurried off to the Provost Marshall’s and thence to the guard house. He had been in there long enough for his wrath to cool, a little, and to begin to feel very homesick and downhearted, when the officer put his head in the door to ask him if he would do what he told him another time. “No,” shouted Harry, “I will not for you had no right to make me put it down.” Maj. Quinn came about bed time and effected his release.

I have to be constantly on the watch for fear of my boys doing something to provoke the persecution of the Yankees. Not long since I heard an explosion in the yard loud enough to create some alarm, and on hurrying out saw a squad of soldiers approaching the scene of action, thinking it was an alarm. The noise proceeded from a battery the boys had erected on the top of the cistern and had supplied it with guns they had manufactured out of musket barrels cut into lengths of eight or nine inches, and bored for a touch hole, then mounted on carriages of their own make. I had noticed them very busily engaged about the yard for some time but never dreamed what they were after.