Cloudy. Army of Potomac resumes the battle, now before Fredericksburg. Visited Wm. Jude, a stocking weaver, to have some made, a very interesting shop and man. "This afternoon I visited Mr. Jude, an Englishman who is a stocking weaver by trade. I went for the purpose of having some stockings made. The shop is quite a curiosity in its way. It is not more than six feet square and about six feet high. The door of entrance is so small that stooping is necessary to get in. On the right as you enter in the corner, is his loom, about four feet wide, on the West is a small counter to which is attached a small vise and some other weaving tools, such as boards upon which to stretch and put in shape his stockings. On the South side is his spinning wheel. On the left is his reels and spools with a couple of small boxes, which I observed were locked. "On entering his shop, I could scarce refrain the laugh. On the seat of his weaving loom lay his daily companion, a yellow striped cat called Peter, who amused himself trying to catch the spool of yarn while he was weaving. "'How do you do Mr. Heyser. I was wondering if you do not want some stockings. I weave many a pair for you. Come Peter, behave yourself' speaking to the cat. 'I'm just weaving these for a particular old lady, maybe you know her, Mrs. Hare in the Row.' You mean Mrs. McElhare. 'Oh yes, that's her. She's stout.' Could you fit you? 'Oh yes. told her to show me her foot--faith, said she, will do that and my leg too--if you want to see it. I had no trouble to get her measure.' I said to him you must be happy in your palace here. 'Ah,' said he, 'wool is dreadful high, but if you get me the yarn, I weave then at journeyman's wages, Just 31 cents.' "The shop is a curiosity--truly it is not the size of the shop or house that makes contentment, this man appears to be satisfied with his lot, and he is in some respects, like his shop--he is small, somewhere about five feet, old, and pretty near worn out. He sits the picture of habit. An old white hat, with the crown knocked in, and from its looks, might have seen twenty summers, adorns his head. His coat and other garments are in keeping with his hat. His pipe would seem to have consumed a vast amount of the weed, his spectacles too, bear the stamp of age. While he stopped his loom to converse with me, his companion, Peter, coiled himself up on his lap to take his rest. A place doubtless much occupied when his master is at work. This little shop has a latch outside and inside, and thus shuts out the world. He is a widower, and although he has children, seems to be alone. "I feel well compensated for my visit; I have never seen business done in so small a compass."