Cloudy and calm.
All quiet. It was a false alarm yesterday evening. Nothing but some of the enemy's cavalry scouts were seen from the intermediate batteries, and it was merely a waste of ammunition on our part, and destruction of timber where the enemy were partially sheltered. Not a gun, so far as I can learn, was fired against our fortifications. Gen. Pemberton must have known that none of the enemy's infantry and artillery had marched in this direction through the storm, and in the mud, or else our scouts are worthless.
But we have news of the capture of 500 more prisoners near Petersburg, yesterday. The particulars of the fight have not yet been received.
Every male between seventeen and fifty-five is now required to have a pass, from Gen. Kemper or Gen. Barton, to walk the streets, even to church. The militia are all out, except those hidden in the back rooms of their shops—extortioners; and the city is very quiet. No wonder the women and children were thrown into a panic yesterday.
The shelling did some good in the Saturday evening market, as most of the people were eager to get home. A boy sold me apples at 75 cents per quart, instead of $1.
The physicians have had a meeting, and agree to charge $30 per visit.
The bombardment is still in progress at Charleston, and there has never been any intermission. The enemy's batteries now reach over two-thirds of that devoted city.
I see by a Northern paper that Gen. Grant is having his children educated at Burlington, N. J.; perhaps at the same institutions where mine were educated; and I perceive that our next door neighbor, Mrs. Kinsey, has been waving the "glorious Stars and Stripes” over Gen. G.’s head, from her ample porch. Well, I would not injure that flag; and I think it would never be assailed by the Southern people, if it were only kept at home, away from our soil.
We have a flag of our own we prefer.
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