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Letters from "Oats."
[Special correspondence of the Dispatch.]


Camp Page, near Williamsburg. July 13, 1861.
To do justice is, under all circumstances, only right and proper. I for one, by God's help, will try and not forget the golden rule. In my communication of the 8th inst. I stated, on the authority of a Confederate officer, that a detachment of the Nottoway Cavalry were engaged in the skirmish which resulted in the death of our gallant Dreux. In justice to the Nottoway Troop and to its gallant Captain, John E. Jones, (whose card appears in your paper of yesterday.) I beg to say that my informant was mistaken in confounding the Nottoway Cavalry with another company. There is glory enough for us all to win yet in he battle we are waging against a common and hateful foe.

Let me remark at this time, that it is becoming quite fashionable in the circles of young persons not informed on the true issue, to say that our brethren from the other States have come on to fight Virginia's battles.-- ‘"The blood of Douglas can avenge itself."’ --Virginia has proud honor of being the great battle field on which the great problem of Southern rights and equality is to be solved; and come the battle when it may, or how, her plume, like that of Henry of Navarre, shall tower proudly in the strife. She may have entered, as some think, slowly into the contest, but her soil and her chivalry, from location and from sentiment, will be first in the fray.

Oats.

Camp Page, near Williamsburg, July 13, 1861.
Hurrah! we have met the enemy, and, as usual, have licked them. Just as I had closed my letter, and was about to mail it, the following information came to hand, and without the shadow of a doubt you may rely upon it as being perfectly correct.

On yesterday, at 11 A. M., Maj. Hood, commanding several detachments of cavalry, met the enemy about the same spot where the gallant and lamented Dreux fell on Friday last, and gave their hides the most genteel tanning that donkey skins have received for a long time. Our gallant boys killed four, wounded one, and took eleven prisoners among whom were two officers, a first and second lieutenant. I have just seen the sword taken from the first lieutenant by that indomitable and gallant little Captain, Jeff. Phillips, of the ‘"Old Dominion Dragoons."’ The enemy were all foreigners, and cried for quarters in the most approved ‘"sweet German accent."’ How many more were wounded we do not know. As usual, ‘"nobody hurt"’ on our side.

"Oats."

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