“Yes, colonel,” he went on, “the three or four months which have passed since your last visit, have cleared away all mists from _my_ eyes at least, and put an end to all my dreams--among others, to that project which I spoke of--the purchase and restoration of the family estate of Stafford. It will never be restored by me. Like Randolph, I am the last of my line.” And with eyes full of a profound melancholy, the speaker gazed into the fire. “I am passing away with the country,” he added. “The cause is going to fail. I give it three months to end in, and have sent for a prominent senator, who may be able to do something. I intend to say to him, ‘The time has come to make the best terms possible with the enemy,’ and I shall place the columns of the _Examiner_ newspaper at his disposal to advocate that policy.”[1] [Footnote 1: This, I learned afterward, from the Hon. Mr. -----, was duly done by Mr. Daniel. But it was too late.] “Is it possible!” I said. “Frankly, I do not think things are so desperate.” “You are a soldier, and hopeful, colonel. The smoke blinds you.” “And yet General Lee is said to repudiate negotiations with scorn. He is said to have lately replied to a gentleman who advised them, ‘For myself, I intend to die sword in hand!’” “General Lee is a soldier--and you know what the song says: ‘A soldier’s business, boys, is to die!’” I could find no reply to the grim words. “I tell you the cause is lost, colonel!” with feverish energy, “lost irremediably, at this moment while we are speaking! It is lost from causes which are enough to make the devil laugh, but it is lost all the same! When the day of surrender, and Yankee domination comes--when the gentlemen of the South are placed under the heel of negroes and Yankees--I, for one, wish to die. Happy is the man who shall have gotten into the grave before that day![1] Blessed will be the woman who has never given suck![2] Yes, the best thing for me is to die--[3] and I am going to do so. I shall not see that _Dies Irae_! I shall be in my grave!” [Footnote 1: His words.] [Footnote 2: His words.] [Footnote 3: His words.] And breathing heavily, the journalist again leaned back in his chair, as though about to faint. An hour afterward, I terminated my visit, and went out, oppressed and gloomy. This singular man had made a reluctant convert of me to his own dark views. The cloud which wrapped him, now darkened me--from the black future I saw the lightnings dart already. His predictions were destined to have a very remarkable fulfilment. On the 21st of December, a few days after our interview, Sherman telegraphed to Lincoln:-- “I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty guns, and plenty of ammunition, and also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton.” In January, Wilmington fell.