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from the south-east.
There was a grand fandango, on shore, last night, at which some of my officers were present.
The fun grew ‘fast and furious,’ as the night waned, and what with the popping of champagne-corks, and the flashing of the bright eyes of the waltzers, as they were whirled in the giddy dance, my young fellows have come off looking a little red about the eyes, and inclined to be poetical.
Rumors have been rife, for some days past, of a Confederate victory at Manassas.
There seems now to be no longer any doubt about the fact.
Private letters have been received, from Demerara, which state that the enemy was not only beaten, but shamefully routed, flying in confusion and dismay from the battle-field, and seeking refuge, pell-mell, in the Federal capital.
With the exception of the Federal Consul, and Yankee skippers in the port, and a small knot of shop-keepers, interested in the American trade, all countenances are beaming with joy at this intelligence.
This splendid victory was won by General Beauregard.
McDowell was the commander of the enemy's forces, assisted, as it would seem, by the poor old superannuated Winfield Scott—this renegade soldier lending his now feeble intellect to the Northern Vandal, to assist in stabbing to the heart his mother State—Virginia!
Alas! what an ignoble end of a once proud and honored soldier.
August 29th.—We have, at length, finished coaling, after a tedious delay of ten days. A rumor prevailed in the town, yesterday, that there were two enemy's ships of war off the bar—keeping themselves cunningly out of sight, to waylay the Sumter. The rumor comes with circumstance, for it is said that the fisherman, who brought the news, supplied one of the ships with fish, and said that the other ship was getting water on board from one of the coast plantations.
To-day, the rumor dwindles; but one ship, it seems, has been seen, and she a merchant ship.
The story is probably like that of the three white crows.
August 30th.—The pilot having come on board, we got under way, at two P. M., and steamed down to the mouth of the river, where we came to anchor.
A ship, going to sea, is like a woman going on a journey—many last things remaining to be attended to, at the moment of departure.
I have always
Baltimore, MD. Kelly Piet & Co. 1868.
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