The Daily Dispatch: March 27, 1865., [Electronic resource]

The London Times thinks that the "moral effect" of the fall of Charleston will be highly injurious to the Confederacy, and that we shall suffer additionally from the complete closing of all our ports to the outside world, meaning thereby we suppose, Great Britain, which has furnished us with such a large amount of military supplies during the war.

We are unable to see why the "moral effect" of the fall of Charleston should be greater now than in the first Revolution. The military advantages gained by the enemy are not to be compared in the last case with those of the first.--Charleston has now fallen, not by a successful assault, nor by the superior strength of its assailants, but has been simply evacuated, without the loss of its army, which was brought safely off by Hardee, and has since gained a brilliant victory over the Federals. In the first Revolution, the American fortifications were battered down by artillery, and General Lincoln, the commander, compelled to sign a capitulation, surrendering the entire army, amounting to five thousand men and four hundred pieces of artillery. The American army in the South, after that event, numbered only four thousand men, of whom one-half were militia, from North Carolina, Maryland and Virginia. This little army, under Gates, was soon whipped by the British in a battle, in which between six and seven hundred Americans were killed, and thirteen or fourteen hundred taken prisoners, whilst the British loss in killed and wounded amounted to only three hundred and seventy-four. When Greene took command of the remnant of the Southern army, it consisted of only two thousand men, more than one-half of whom were militia. If the "moral effect" of that state of things did not paralyze the spirits of our ancestors, we must be degenerate descendants to be unnerved by anything that has now taken place. It is true that profound gloom prevailed for a time, but it did not last long. As a narrator of those events has observed, "the height of jow and the depth of woe passed like two contending genii over the land during the summer of 1780." The clouds began to disperse when the interposition of France, sent by Providence to rescue an oppressed nation in its death struggle, electrified the popular heart; and the military operations of Greene in the South demonstrated — not the first time in history — that Providence does not always give the battle to the strong, but can save by many or by few.

The Times, with all its abilities, can scarcely pretend to the gift of prophecy, How does it know that we may not have another Greene at the head of our Southern armies, who, in the hands of Providence, will turn back the tide of invasion, or that France may not come in again, when she is most needed, as she did before?

As to the blockade, we shall, no doubt, suffer considerable inconvenience; but if the Circassian, numbering only three millions of people, could resist Russia, in spite of her blockading fleets, for seventy years, we can hardly be expected to succumb from such a cause during the lifetime of the present generation. Our inventive faculties and mechanical skill will be quickened and developed, by necessity, to the supply of all our wants, and we shall, perhaps, be able, as we did in the beginning of the war, to obtain a compulsory loan from our enemies of such weapons and munitions as we require. In the meantime, the virtual acknowledgment of the Times, that England has been to such an extent the military workshop of the Confederacy that the war can scarcely go on without its aid, will not escape the vigilant eye of Mr. Seward, who will probably "make a note of it."