From the Potomac.
an error corrected — military affairs — the probabilities of a fight — the sick list — kind attentions of the ladies, &c.
[correspondence of the Richmond Dispatch.]
As regards military affairs in this quarter, we still occupy that position of glorious inactivity and uncertainty peculiarly harassing. Vague rumors of contemplated attacks daily reach us, and excite only the scornful jeers of our troops. We are buoyant, self-confident, proud, and exultant in our strength, our commanders, our position, and the justness of our cause.
If I was much given to theorizing, or even indulging in improbabilities, I would say that a column of 1,000 Yankees planted in front of our Centreville batteries, backed by their present compliment of men, would receive, in a few hours fight, one of the worst thrashings at our hands ever awarded that enterprising race. But we look for said Yankees in vain. The glory of Israel has departed. Northern courage has been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Centreville will not be attacked in front this winter if George B. McClellan possesses the military acuteness accorded him by his admirers. His Leesburg movement was doubtless a sad miscarriage. His more recent attempt on the Potomac may be equally significant. Our wings are well protected. He has found this so to his chagrin, if not sorrow. What can he do?--Goaded on by the ultra Northern press; jeered and scoffed at by his former professed friends for his present inactivity; burdening the Government daily with a heavy war tax, he is either compelled to hazard a battle or forfeit his reputation.
Why have we vainly awaited his coming more than a month? Why has he refused every gauge of battle thrust in his very teeth by our commanders? There is only one of two solutions to the problem; he is either not ready, or he is a coward, and we are inclined very strongly to the latter opinion.
But probably he is waiting to ‘"freeze out"’ the Southerners. I cannot vouch for the balance; but when the keenest blasts of a Northern winter whistle through the tattered rags of the 15th Alabama regiment, it will find them still firmly at their posts, with their guns grasped tightly and their cartridge belts buckled around them.
Such men cannot be conquered. They may be crushed, annihilated, swept from the face of the earth; but conquered — never! If we are defeated in this contest, which is a most improbable suggestion, future history can point to no more noble example of a nation being blotted out from existence in defence of their rights, or a brighter republican star sinking beneath the gloom of an overshadowing despotism.
There have been a large number of our men on the sick list at Haymarket for some time past, but they have been either reported for duty or removed elsewhere. I have been informed by Lieut. W. H. Strickland, who had charge of them for some time, that all praise is due to the ladies of Haymarket for unremitting kindness and attentions to the sick, night and day, during their stay in that place. How beautiful and holy; how like our realization of angel dreams, are these delicate ministrations of the ladies! The All-seeing Eye who judges our actions will bless them; future generations will bless them; and the soldiers will doubly honor and bless them.
All is quiet here at present. We have a daily gun practice from the batteries, and Yankee squadrons will fare but badly if we may judge from the proficiency attained in shelling. G. M. R.
