CHAP. XIII—ATLANTA.
HOOD STRIKES.
General John B. Hood had the reputation of being a fighting man, and wishing to show Jeff Davis what a "bully" fighter he was, lights in on the Yankees on Peachtree creek. But that was "I give a dare" affair. General William B. Bate's division gained their works, but did not long hold them.
Our division, now commanded by General John C. Brown, was supporting Bate's division; our regiment supporting the Hundred and Fifty-fourth Tennessee which was pretty badly cut to pieces, and I remember how mad they seemed to be, because they had to fall back.
Hood thought he would strike while the iron was hot, and while it could be hammered into shape, and make the Yankees believe that it was the powerful arm of old Joe that was wielding the sledge.
But he was like the fellow who took a piece of iron to the shop, intending to make him an ax. After working for some time and failing, he concluded he would make him a wedge, and, failing in this, said, "I'll make a skeow." So he heats the iron red-hot and drops it into the slack-tub, and it went s-k-e-o-w, bubble, bubble, s-k-e-o-w, bust.
KILLING A YANKEE SCOUT.
On the night of the 20th, the Yankees were on Peachtree creek, advancing toward Atlanta. I was a videt that night, on the out-post of the army. I could plainly hear the moving of their army, even the talking and laughing of the Federal soldiers. I was standing in an old sedge field. About
