He was seated, as usual, in his large arm-chair, by the table, covered with papers; and a small bell near his hand seemed placed there for the convenience of summoning an attendant, without the trouble of rising. Near the bell lay a package of foreign-looking documents. Near the documents lay a pile of telegraphic dispatches. In the appearance and surroundings of this man you read “Power.” Mr. X----- received me with easy cordiality. “Glad to see you, my dear colonel,” he said, rising and shaking my hand; then sinking back in his chair, “take a cigar, and tell me the news.” I sat down,--having declined the proffered cigar. “The news!” I said, laughing; “I ought to ask that of you.” “Ah! you think I am well-informed?” I pointed to the dispatches. Mr. X----- shrugged his shoulders. “Papers from England and France--they are not going to recognize us. “And those telegrams--nothing. We get little that is worth attention, except a line now and then, signed ‘R.E. Lee.’” “Well, there is that signature,” I said, pointing to an open paper. “It is a private letter to me--but do you wish to see a line which I have just received? It is interesting, I assure you.” And he handed me a paper. It was a telegram announcing the fall of Atlanta! “Good heavens!” I said, “is it possible? Then there is nothing to stop Sherman.” “Nothing whatever,” said Mr. X-----, coolly. “What will be the consequence?” “The Confederacy will be cut in two. Sherman will be at Savannah before Grant reaches the Southside road--or as soon, at least.” “You think Grant will reach that?” “Yes, by April; and then--you know what!” “But Lee will protect it.” Mr. X----- shrugged his shoulders. “Shall I tell you a secret?” I listened. “Lee’s force is less than 50,000--next spring it will not number 40,000. Grant’s will be at least four times that.” “Why can not our army be re-enforced?” Mr. X----- helped himself to a fresh cigar. “The people are tired, and the conscript officers are playing a farce,” he said. “The commissary department gives the army a quarter of a pound of rancid meat. That even often fails, for the quartermaster’s department does not supply it. The result is--no conscripts, and a thousand desertions. The soldiers are starving; their wives and children are writing them letters that drive them mad--the end is not far off; and when Grant reaches the Southside road we are gone.” Mr. X----- smoked his cigar with extreme calmness as he spoke. “But one thing remains,” I said. “What is that?” “Lee will retreat from Virginia.” Mr. X----- shook his head. “He will not.” “Why not?” “He will be prevented from doing so.” “Under any circumstances?” “Until too late, at least.” “And the result?” “Surrender--though he said to me the other day, when he came to see me here, ‘For myself, I intend to die sword in hand.’”