The battle has been raging at Atlanta,1 and our
fate hanging in the balance. Atlanta, indeed, is gone. Well, that agony is
over. Like David, when the child was dead, I will get up from my knees, will
wash my face and comb my hair. No hope; we will try to have no fear.
At the Prestons' I found them drawn up in line of battle
every moment looking for the Doctor on his way to Richmond. Now, to drown
thought, for our day is done, read Dumas's Maîtres d'Armes. Russia ought to sympathize with
us. We are not as barbarous as this, even if Mrs. Stowe's word be taken. Brutal
men with unlimited power are the same all over the world. See Russell's India —
Bull Run Russell's. They say General Morgan has been killed. We are hard as
stones; we sit unmoved and hear any bad news chance may bring. Are we
stupefied?
_______________
1 After the battle, Atlanta was taken possession
of and partly burned by the Federals.
SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 326
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