ater want will compel the inhabitants to
go. Why not go now, when all the arrangements are completed for
the transfer,--instead of waiting till the plunging shot of
contending armies will renew the scenes of the past months. Of
course, I do not apprehend any such thing at this moment, but you
do not suppose this army will be here until the war is over. I
cannot discuss this subject with you fairly, because I cannot
impart to you what we propose to do, but I assert that our military
plans make it necessary for the inhabitants to go away, and I can
only renew my offer of services to make their exodus in any
direction as easy and comfortable as possible.

You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will. War is
cruelty, and you cannot refine it; and those who brought war into
our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can
pour out. I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I
will make more sacrifices to-day than any of you to secure peace.
But you cannot have peace and a division of our country. If the
United States submits to a division now, it will not stop, but will
go on until we reap the fate of Mexico, which is eternal war. The
United States does and must assert its authority, wherever it once
had power; for, if it relaxes one bit to pressure, it is gone, and
I believe that such is the national feeling. This feeling assumes
various shapes, but always comes back to that of Union. Once admit
the Union, once more acknowledge the authority of the national
Government, and, instead of devoting your houses and streets and
roads to the dread uses of war, I and this army become at once your
protectors and supporters, shielding you from danger, let it come
from what quarter it may. I know that a few individuals cannot
resist a torrent of error and passion, such as swept the South into
rebellion, but you can point out, so that we may know those who
desire a government, and those who insist on war and its
desolation.

You might as well appeal against the thunder-storm as against these
terrible hardships of war. They are inevitable, and the only way
the people of Atlanta can hope once more to live in peace and quiet
at home, is to stop the war, which can only be done by admitting
that it began in error and is perpetuated in pride.

We don't want your negroes, or your horses, or your houses, or your
lands, or any thing you have, but we do want and will have a just
obedience to the law