by John Beauchamp Jones
MAY 29TH.—Bright and quite cold.
There was skirmishing yesterday evening on the Chickahominy.
The armies are confronting each other, but Grant is moving gradually to the right of us, as if with an intention to reach the James River; but probably it is with the view of enveloping us with his superior numbers, and the GREAT BATTLE may occur at any hour. The train of cars, laden, in Broad Street, destined a few days ago to transport provisions, etc. to Gen. Lee’s army, are visited hourly by wagons from the army, now in the immediate vicinity.
This morning the Secretary’s time is occupied in giving audience to citizens who have fled from the vicinity of the enemy, but whose exaggerated accounts really furnish no reliable information. Of what benefit, in such a crisis as this, is the tale of desolation in the track of Grant’s army, the destruction of crops, the robbery of children of their silver cups and spoons, etc.? And yet these are the things which occupy much time.
