the "forty rounds" at their backs. Patiently, cheerily tramping along,
going they know not where, nor care much either, so it be not in retreat.
Ready to make roads, throw up works, tear up railroads, or hew out and
build wooden bridges; or, best of all, to go for the Johnnies under hot
sun or heavy rain, through swamp and mire and quicksand. They marched ten
miles to storm Fort McAllister. And how the cheers broke from them when
the pop pop pop of the skirmish line began after we came in sight of
Savannah! No man who has seen but not shared their life may talk of
personal hardship.

We arrived at this pretty little town yesterday, so effecting a junction
with Schofield, who got in with the 3d Corps the day before. I am writing
at General Schofield's headquarters. There was a bit of a battle on
Tuesday at Bentonville, and we have come hither in smoke, as usual. But
this time we thank Heaven that it is not the smoke of burning homes,
--only some resin the "Johnnies" set on fire before they left.

I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me.

ON BOARD DESPATCH BOAT "MARTIN."
AT SEA, March 25, 1865.

DEAR MOTHER: A most curious thing has happened. But I may as well begin
at the beginning. When I stopped writing last evening at the summons of
the General, I was about to tell you something of the battle of
Bentonville on Tuesday last. Mower charged through as bad a piece of wood
and swamp as I ever saw, and got within one hundred yards of Johnston
himself, who was at the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we did not
know this at the time, and learned it from prisoners.