and as sure of victory at the end of four months as they were at the beginning; instead of the army being depleted, it had grown in strength. Tis true, he had fallen back, but it was to give his enemy the heavier blows. He brought all the powers of his army into play; ever on the defensive, 't is true, yet ever striking his enemy in his most vulnerable part. His face was always to the foe. They could make no movement in which they were not anticipated. Such a man was Joseph E. Johnston, and such his record. Farewell, old fellow! We privates loved you because you made us love ourselves. Hardee, our old corps commander, whom we had followed for nearly four years, and whom we had loved and respected from the beginning, has left us. Kirby Smith has resigned and gone home. The spirit of our good and honored Leonidas Polk is in heaven, and his body lies yonder on the Kennesaw line. General Breckenridge and other Generals resigned. I Jay down my pen; I can write no more; my heart is too full. Reader, this is the saddest chapter I ever wrote.
But now, after twenty years, I can see where General Joseph E. Johnston made many blunders in not attacking Sherman's line at some point. He was better on the defensive than the aggressive, and hence, bis peccare in bello non licet.
GENERAL HOOD TAKES COMMAND.
It came like a flash of lightning, staggering and blinding every one. It was like applying a lighted match to an immense magazine. It was like the successful gambler, flushed with continual winnings, who staked his all and lost. It was like the end of the Southern Confederacy. Things that were, were not. It was the end. The soldier of the relief guard who brought us the news while picketing on the banks of the Chattahoochee, remarked, by way of imparting gently the information—
"Boys, we've fought all the war for nothing. There is nothing for us in store now."
"What's the matter now?"
