gust 14th, 1864.
Norfolk, poor Norfolk nothing can exceed its long-suffering, its night of gloom and darkness.
Unlike Winchester, it has no bright spots — no oasis in its blank desert of wretchedness.
Like Alexandria, it has no relief, but must submit, and drag on its chain of servility, till the final cry of victory bursts its bonds, and makes it free.
I have no time to write of all I hear and know of the indignities offered to our countrymen and countrywomen in Alexandria, Norfolk, Portsmouth, and other places which remain incarcerated in the sloughs of Federal tyranny.
God help them, and give us strength speedily to break the chain that binds them.
August 15, 1864.
An account from my relatives, of the raid of the 19th of June into the village of Tappahannock, has lately reached me. The village had been frequently visited and pillaged before, and both sides of the beautiful Rappahannock, above and below, had been sadly devastated; but the last visit seems to carry with