Hazy and cool.
We have no details
this morning of the fighting yesterday, and some doubt if a battle was fought.
I presume assaults were made on our intrenchments in diverse places, and
repulsed.
Beauregard's battle,
Friday night, is still in smoke, but it is rumored the enemy lost 9000 killed
and wounded.
Firing is heard
to-day. There may be good policy in keeping back accounts from the field, until
it is all over and something decisive accomplished. We have not met with
serious disaster at all events, else there would be consternation in the city,
for bad news flies fast, and cannot be kept back.
There was fighting
yesterday at Lynchburg, no result known yet.
Every Sunday I see
how shabby my clothes have become, as every one else, almost, has a good suit
in reserve. During the week all are shabby, and hence it is not noticeable. The
wonder is that we are not naked, after wearing the same garments three or four
years. But we have been in houses, engaged in light employments. The rascals
who make money by the war fare sumptuously, and “have their good things in this
world.”
The weather is dry
and dusty; the hazy atmosphere produced perhaps by the smoke of battle and the
movements of mighty armies.
Eight P.M. The city
is still in utter ignorance of the details and result of the battle
yesterday—if there was one. If the government is in possession of information,
it is, for some purpose, studiously kept from the public, and why, I cannot
imagine, unless there has been a disaster, or Beauregard has done something not
approved.
I do not think the
people here appreciate the importance of the contest on the south side of the
river. If Lee's army were broken, I doubt whether it would even attempt to
regain the fortifications of Richmond, for then it might share the fate of
Pemberton's army at Vicksburg. And the fall of Richmond would involve the fall
of the State, and Virginia would immediately become a free State.
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