Sunday, November 6th.—Bright and frosty.
All quiet below. Another day, and if it remains quiet, we may know that Lincoln will be re-elected.
It is said news came from the North last night, that gold sold for $260, and that Governor Seymour had ordered the militia of New York to be in readiness for the protection of the polls on Tuesday next.
G. W. Randolph, late Secretary of War, has sailed for Europe, taking his family with him. Other quondam Confederate States functionaries have gone, or are going. Many have realized fortunes, who were poor, and this country has ceased to be the one to enjoy them in.
A parting letter was written by Mr. Randolph to his friend, R. G. H. Kean, Chief of the Bureau of War—appointed by Mr. R., and from whom I derived the information of the sailing of his patron. Such departures, at a crisis like this, spread additional doubts in the community. Mr. R. was not liable to conscription, if averse to fighting more in our cause, being exempted by Governor Smith as a member of the Common Council.
To-morrow is the day fixed for the reassembling of our Congress, but doubts are entertained whether there will be a quorum.
We shall soon have lively news from Beauregard. If I understand his letter of the 24th ult., he is determined to march the army without delay into Middle Tennessee, leaving Sherman on his right flank and rear. It is a desperate conception, and will probably be a brilliant success—or a sad disaster. Napoleon liked such games. If Beauregard really has great genius, he has now the field on which to display it. If the Tennesseeans and Kentuckians rise, momentous events may follow; if not, it is probably the last opportunity they will have. They have their choice—but blood is the price of independence.
