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General Lee sent the following dispatch to Richmond the night of the battle:

Headquarters, June 27, 1862.
His Excellency, President Davis:
Mr. President,--Profoundly grateful to Almighty God for the signal victory granted to us, it is my pleasing task to announce to you the success achieved by this army to-day. The enemy was this morning driven from his strong position behind Beaver Dam Creek, and pursued to that behind Powhite Creek, and finally, after a severe contest of five hours, entirely repulsed from the field. Night put an end to the contest.

I grieve to state that our loss in officers and men is great. We sleep on the field, and shall renew the contest in the morning.

I have the honor to be, very respectfully,

R. E. Lee, General.

The reception of the news of our great victory at Cold Harbor and Gaines's Mill by the people of Richmond may be better imagined than described. All day long the sound of the conflict echoed through the city, and old men, women and children crowded on the tops of the houses or on the neighboring hills where they could distinguish the smoke of the battle and hear even the rattle of the musketry. Soon the stream of wounded began to pour in, and tidings of a great victory to spread through the city and cause general rejoicing, which was only marred by mourning for the gallant dead and anxiety for the wounded, many of whom belonged to Richmond families. I can never forget the scene presented at our field hospitals that night. Our victory had been purchased at a fearful cost of life and limb, and the sight of the dead and wounded (comparatively new to us then, but alas! fearfully common afterwards) affected to tears strong men “unused to the melting mood.” My own regiment (the Thirteenth Virginia) carried into that fight 301 men, and lost 157 of them killed and wounded, and I remember that when our sturdy Colonel (J. A. Walker, afterwards a distinguished General,) saw so many of his brave fellows lying dead or wounded, his frame shook with emotion and he wept like a child. I could fill columns with incidents of that fearful night. I have space for only one or two. There were in my old company (the “Louisa Blues” ) when we entered the service, five brothers named Trice, the sons of a widowed mother. One of them was discharged in the autumn of 1861 on account of ill-health, but against his own earnest protest. He at

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