Wrote another: “We fancy out here that the over-expectant loyal public are disappointed at the seemingly slow progress of our cause in this department. It is only necessary to state that the immense amount of supplies required for an army of this size, to be transported a distance of over two hundred miles through the enemy’s country, with a single-track railroad, is a gigantic undertaking. As for subsisting upon the country, that is out of the question, the inhabitants themselves depending upon the charity of the ‘ruthless invaders’ for daily sustenance. Forage, ordnance stores, and commissary supplies, must all flow through this single artery with lightning rapidity, if we would replenish these stores as fast as exhausted. Nothing but the most thorough organization and complete system, with great energy in the various departments, could ever have prevented our troops from suffering for the want of food and clothing. The public can never appreciate the innumerable natural obstacles that have embarrassed the operations of this unflinching army. The truly loyal do not demand any such explanations as these, for with such leaders as Grant and Sherman apprehension is groundless; but of late the Copperhead press, not content with misrepresenting and belittling General Grant’s victorious advance toward the rebel capital, sneer at General Sherman’s generalship, and insinuate already, in the face of brilliant successes achieved, that the ‘On to Atlanta’ movement is a failure. “Standing upon the martial-crowned top of Pine Mountain, amid the fluttering of those peculiar flags used by the Signal Corps, we learned that from this eminence were transmitted, in those mysterious signals, all the movements of the enemy, and such operations of our army as were necessary. In front of you stands the defiant, frowning Kenesaw, with its thick woods concealing the rebel batteries from view that line its steep sides, while five or six miles west of Kenesaw, Lost Mountain lifts its sugar-loaf crest to the sky, solitary and alone, looming up against the gorgeously tinted clouds that deck the heavens. Just before you, looking south, can be discerned the suburbs of Marietta, with the Georgia Military Institute standing out prominently in the picture. Gazing down the steep declivity into the thickly-wooded vales which lie at the spectator’s feet, a magnificent panorama of natural beauty is unfurled. So close are the lines of the contending armies, that the dense volumes of smoke from their camp fires roll up united, but hang in portentous clouds over friend and foe.