ess but victorious. Old men with one foot in the grave--boys
with one foot scarce out of the cradle, stood side by side, with the
bronzed veterans of Lee's hundred fights. Women sat quiet, the shells
of Grant's civilized warfare tearing through their houses and through
the hospitals. And fearless for themselves, they worked steadily on,
nursing the wounded and the sick; giving from their daily-decreasing
store with self-forgetfulness; encouraging the weak by their presence
and their courage.
But not alone the fierce sounds immediately around them claimed the
attention of the people of the Capital. From North Georgia came the
hoarse echo of renewed strife; and they felt, in sober truth, more
immediate anxiety for the result there than at their own doors. Inured
to danger and made familiar with its near approach, the people of
Virginia looked calmly forward to the most fearful shock of battle, if
it was nothing more. They knew the crushing force of Grant's numbers,
but the danger was tangible and they could see a possible issue out of
it, through blood and sacrifice. But they knew and felt that Atlanta
was the back door to Richmond. Let the enemy once enter that and divide
the spinal column of the Confederacy, and what hope was there! For a
brief space the maimed and dying body might writhe with final strength;
the quivering arms strike fierce, spasmodic blows; but no nourishment
could come--the end must be death--and death from inanition!
The people knew and felt this fully. They were perfectly aware that,
should Atlanta fall and the enemy penetrate to our rear lines of
communication, the cause was lost. We might make a fierce resistance
for the moment; but without supplies, all organized plan must cease.
And the wildest hope indulged in that event was the possibility of a
detached and guerrilla warfare that would make the country untenable.
Therefore, every eye was turned toward Dalton, where Johnston's little
army now was--every ear was strained to catch the first echo of the
thunder about to roll so ominously among the Georgia mountains.
Upon General Grant's elevation to the chief command, General W. T.
Sherman had been left in charge in the West. Not discouraged by the
failure of Grant's quadruple advance, two months before, Sherman
divided his army--like that operating on the Rapidan--into three corps.
Thomas, leading the center, or direct advance; Schofield, the left on
the North-east, and McPherson the righ
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