The temptation to "lie under a mistake" was great in those days of possible disaffection, when soldiers had to believe in their cause in order to defend it. One of the newspaper correspondents of the enemy explained why we were not again attacked after the first fight. He said: "Some may inquire why we did not march forthwith to Carrsville and attack the rebels again. The reasons are obvious. Had he went [sic] to Carrsville Pryor would have had the advantage to cut off our retreat. The natives know every bypath and blind road through the woods and are ever ready to help the rebels to our detriment. Pryor can always cross the Blackwater on his floating bridge. It is prudent to allow an enemy to get well away from his stronghold the better to capture his guns and destroy his ammunition," etc.
Another paper declares he was heavily reënforced at Carrsville.
Another records: "The rebels have been very bold in this neighborhood. Pryor has been in the habit of crossing the Blackwater River whenever he wanted to. Our attacking him this time must have been a real surprise to him. We took a large number of prisoners!"
He continued the indulgence of this habit until spring, receiving from his countrymen unstinted praise for his protection of that part of our state. While he could not utterly rout the invading army, he "held them very uneasy."
I was made rich by enthusiastic congratulations from our capital and from Petersburg. Agnes wrote from Richmond:—
"Have you seen the Enquirer? Of course this is very grand for you because this is your own little fight—all by yourself. In Richmond everybody says the General is to be promoted Major-General. When he is, I shall attach myself permanently to his staff. The life of inglorious idleness here is perfectly awful. If you suppose I don't long for a rich experience, you are mistaken. Give me the whole of it—victory, defeat, glory and misfortune, praise and even censure (so it be en plein air)—anything, everything, except stolid, purposeless, hopeless uselessness.
"The worst effect of this inaction is felt in this city, where we can manufacture nothing for the soldiers, and only consume in idleness what they need. A sort of court is still kept up here—but the wives of our great generals are conspicuous for their absence. Mrs. Lee is never seen at receptions. She and her daughters spend their time knitting and sewing for the soldiers, just as her great-grandmother, Martha Washington, did in '76; and General Lee writes that these things are needed. People here, having abundant time to find fault, do not hesitate to say that our court ladies assume too much state for revolutionary times. They had better be careful! We won't guillotine them—at least not on the block (there are other guillotines), but it would be lovelier if they could realize their fine opportunities. Think of Florence Nightingale! Mrs. Davis is very chary of the time she allots us. If King Solomon were to call with the Queen of Sheba on his arm the fraction of a moment after the closing minute of her reception, he would not be admitted! I can just see you saying, in that superior manner you see fit to assume with me:—
"'But, Agnes dear! that is good form, you know, and belongs to the etiquette of polite life.'
"Of course I know it! Did I say that Mrs. Davis should admit King Solomon? I wouldn't! I only tell you what other folks think and say—but ajew, until I hear some more news and gossip.
"Dearly again,
"Agnes."