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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Mohun, or, the Last Days of Lee"

"What
will be the result of that?"
"Ruin," was the curt response.
"Not the loss of a mere town?"
"No; the place itself is nothing. For Sherman to take it will not
benefit him much; but it will prove to the country, and the President,
that he is irresistible. Then they will _hack_; and you will see the
beginning of the end."
"That is a gloomy view enough."
"Yes--every thing is gloomy now. The devil of high-headed obstinacy and
incompetence rules affairs. I do not croak in the _Examiner_ newspaper.
But we are going straight to the devil."
As he uttered these words, he placed his hand upon his breast, and
closed his eyes, as though he were going to faint.
"What is the matter?" I exclaimed, rising abruptly, and approaching
him.
"Nothing!" he replied, in a weak voice; "don't disturb yourself about
me. These fits of faintness come on, now and then, in consequence of an
attack of pneumonia which I had lately. Sit down, colonel. You must
really pardon me for saying it, but you make me nervous."
There was nothing in the tone of this singular address to take offence
at,--the voice of the speaker was perfectly courteous,--and I resumed
my seat.
"We were talking about Sherman," he said. "They call him Gog, Magog,
anti-Christ, I know not what, in the clerical circles of this city!"
His lip curled as he spoke.


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