tion of the increased number of graybacks, which seemed to have propagated a thousand-told since we left, and they were crawling about like ants, making little paths and tracks in the dirt as they wiggled and waddled about, hunting for ye old Rebel soldier. Sherman's two thirty-pound parrot guns were in the same position, and every now and then a lazy-looking shell would pass over, speeding its way on to Atlanta.
The old citizens had dug little cellars, which the soldiers called "gopher holes," and the women and children were crowded together in these cellars, while Sherman was trying to burn the city over their heads. But, as I am not writing history, I refer you to any history of the war for Sherman's war record in and around Atlanta.
As John and I started to go back, we thought we would visit the hospital. Great God! I get sick to-day when I think of the agony, and suffering, and sickening stench and odor of dead and dying; of wounds and sloughing sores, caused by the deadly gangrene; of the groaning and wailing. I cannot describe it. I remember, I went it the rear of the building, and there I saw a pile of arms and legs, rotting and decomposing; and, although I saw thousands of horrifying scenes during the war, yet to-day I have no recollection in my whole life, of ever seeing anything that I remember with more horror than that pile of legs and arms that had been cut off our soldiers. As John and I went through the hospital, and were looking at the poor suffering fellows, I heard a weak voice calling, "Sam, O, Sam." I went to the poor fellow, but did not recognize him at first, but soon found out that it was James Galbreath, the poor fellow who had been shot nearly in two on the 22nd of July. I tried to be cheerful, and said, "Hello, Galbreath, old fellow, I thought you were in heaven long before this." He laughed a sort of dry, cracking laugh, and asked me to hand him a drink of water. I handed it to him. He then began to mumble and tell me something in a rambling and incoherent way, but all I could catch was for me to write to his family, who were
