From the Richmond Whig, 7/2/1861

FROM CAMP LEE. - We subjoin the last epistle which we are to receive from our lofty correspondent of the Richmond Zouaves at Camp Lee, near this city. His future letters will be written from a cooler climate:

CAMP LEE, June 30, 1861
SIR: Of all the places  ever did spend two weeks at, Camp Lee, I am sure, produced the fewest agreeable impressions; and this is, I think, an expression of the sense of the company. Now don’t think by this remark that we are tired of service. We are only impatient of garrison life. We are possessed with the feeling of the Numidian lion when restrained from the arena, or the mountain tiger when waiting for the nearer approach of his victim. However, we won’t quarrel as we so soon leave the unpleasant place.

Yesterday I was making out our muster roll, and was struck with the various pursuits which our men had left to follow the drum. When I had finished I could hardly understand that the jargon of the Zouaves was technical language instead of slang phraseology. Theologists, lawyers, M. D.’s, artists, actors, privateersmen, clerks, laborers, and artisans all find a place side by side in the ranks. But this is a digression which Corporal Trim would object to. The remarkable muster-roll of which I spoke was being prepared for presentation to-day at our monthly muster. This was the prime preliminary to our departure. A nine o’clock we were turned out for general inspection, and (as we thought) for pay. The Zouaves appeared in full appointment. Their arms were the Springfield muskets with the spring bayonets attached. Soon after the regiment had deployed into column, a gentle, refreshing rain began to baptize our GOOD CLOTHES. The regiment seemed lugubrious; but the “Zou Zaus,” equal to any emergency, hastily unslung the Reith knapsack, restrapped the interior bundle to the shoulder, donned the oil cloth, and prevented an exterior defiant to Iris, the goddess of cloud and shower. The Lieutenant Colonel (James Hubbard, Esq.) making his appearance upon the scene, the whole regiment came to attention. Contieuers omries intentique ora tenebant. (You see I haven’t forgotten all my ductyls and spondees yet.) Fully expecting to hear of our pay, we stood eager to devour every word of our Pater Ćneas; but the slightest allusion to pay was not made. Inspection, however was hinted at, and after an hour more in the rain, we were ordered to our quarters to avoid the damp weather. This is our last muster previous to departure. To-morrow at four o’clock we take up the line of march for Phillips. “Westward the star of empire takes its way” - prophecy made with special reference to the Zouaves. Now, you must not accuse us of a want of modesty, for we say this in all humility, we do intend to make our company the star of Richmond, and if the star of the Capital of the Southern Confederacy isn’t the star of the empire, then there is no logic in Whately and Blair. We are all sanguine as to the result of the expedition in which we are engaged - Under the tutelage of General Garnett we are confident of success. Like Jacob at Bethel, “God answered us in the day of our distress, and was with us in the way in which we went.” Like the true church at Alexandria, our loyal friends struck a vital blow at the head of falsehood and error. And it now remains to see what will be the fate of “the thirty and two thousand at Manassas,” and whether, as St. Paul says, there will be distinction to hose at Phillips “whose God is their belly, whose glory is their shame, and who mind earthly things.”