by John Beauchamp Jones
MAY 28TH.—Showers and sunshine.
Grant has crossed the Pamunky, and Lee is at the Yellow Tavern—not more than six miles from the city. The hostile armies are only a few miles apart, and the GREAT BATTLE may occur at any time, at any hour; and we shall hear both the artillery and musketry from my dwelling.
All is quiet on the south side of the river. Nothing from Georgia, except a short address from Gen. Johnston to the army, stating that, having the enemy now where he wants him, he will lead the soldiers to battle.
War and famine develop some of the worst instincts of our nature. For five days the government has been selling meal, by the peck, for $12: and yet those who have been purchasing have endeavored to keep it a secret! And the government turns extortioner, making $45 profit per bushel out of the necessities of the people!
I saw a dispatch, to-day, from Gen. Johnston to his Chief Commissary, at Atlanta, ordering him, after reserving ten days’ rations, to send the rest of the stores to Augusta!
It is said Mr. Memminger and certain members of Congress have in readiness the means of sudden flight, in the event of Grant’s forcing his way into the city.
It is thought, to-day, that Bragg will resign. If he does, then the President will be humiliated; for the attacks on Bragg are meant principally for Mr. Davis. But I doubt the story; I don’t think the President will permit Bragg to retire before his enemies, unless affairs become desperate by the defeat of our army in this vicinity.
