Editor’s Note: This article was transcribed by Brett Schulte.
No events of the war have been more thrilling, and none have inspired more anxiety, than those now enacting around Petersburg. The rapid movements of the enemy–the comparatively unprepared condition of the defence–the valor of the citizen militia, and their glorious success–the close proximity of the foe, and the importance of the position–have turned all hearts towards Petersburg, and all are eager, intent, and anxious to hear of her deliverance. So far, all goes well. Repulse after repulse has carried havoc and slaughter among the enemy’s columns, discomfiting still further his already despairing troops. HOKE, “the little Twinkler of Plymouth,” has developed into a Planet, and twinkles no longer, but sheds around and over Petersburg a bright refulgent lustre of hope and security. His unconquerable division “stands like a wall of adamant, never receding an inch from its position.”
“In front of their breastworks (says the Petersburg (illegible)) all accounts agree that the slaughter of the enemy is fearful. Whenever Hoke meets a Yankee, or a tory, he deals with him after the manner of a “military despot.” If Virginia has buried her great Jackson, North Carolina is replacing him. The mantle of Elijah hath fallen upon Elisha.
May God preserve this glorious warrior–now fast becoming a distinguished chieftain–for the good of his country.1
- “Petersburg.” Raleigh Confederate. June 21, 1864, p. 2 col. 2 ↩