ment, above cited, of the importance which he attached to "these deep incisions into the enemy's country," namely, that we were not only fighting hostile armies, but a hostile people, and must make everybody "feel the hard hand of war." There is a sort of ad captandum semblance of logic about this remark that no doubt made it popular at the time. But surely it needs but a moment's reflection to see that nothing is gained by adding anything to the task of the soldier, which is to defeat and destroy the hostile force. To infuriate needlessly a population already known to be unfriendly assuredly cannot make the soldier's task easier; on the contrary, it must rather multiply his difficulties, and tend to render success less certain, besides making the population, when conquered, more hostile than ever before.

There is, it must be confessed, in many of these utterances of General Sherman's a good deal that will not stand the test of careful examination. They show that Sherman's mind was not occupied solely in the work which alone it was his duty to attend to, that is in the endeavor to solve the military problem before him; in other words, that he concerned himself more or less all the time with the popular and political questions connected with the war, in this respect presenting a great contrast to Grant and Thomas. Evidences of this are to be found everywhere in his dispatches and correspondence, notanotably in his letters to General Hood and to the mayor and city government of Atlanta, in September, 1864, and in the Memorandum or Basis of Agreement between him and General J. E. Johnston, in April, 1865. At the same time, Sherman never for an instant pretermitted his active attention to the welfare of his army, or his study of the military problems which his masterly manoeuvres were constantly presenting for his solution.

In truth, it is far from easy to draw the portrait of General Sherman. Here is an officer of high rank, who began his service in the war at the first battle of Bull Run; who received the surrender of the last of the Confederate generals; who was at the head of one of the finest armies in the country, but who never commanded in a great, still less a decisive battle; whose most famous exploit consisted in marching a large and well-appointed force almost unopposed through the enemy's country; and whose reputation nevertheless stands as high, at least with the Northern public, as that of any of the generals of the Union. Such a sketch as the above certainly leaves much to be accounted for. Yet it is true so far as it goes. What is not stated in it contains, however, the solution of the apparent paradox. General Sherman's military abilities, though not exhibited conspicuously on the battlefield, were confessedly of a very high order. His Atlanta campaign proves this by universal admission. If we are surprised at his leaving to Thomas the task of resisting, and if possible destroying, the principal Confederate army in the West; if we fail, as we fairly may, to see in what respect Sherman gained anything in not following Grant's advice to entirely ruin " Hood before "starting" on his "proposed campaign," we must at the same time admit that no operation in the war was more skillfully carried out than that "proposed campaign." It accomplished all that Sherman had expected or hoped from it. It won not only the assent, but the admiration, of Grant and Lincoln. It captivated the popular mind. Closing as it did with the surrender of General Joseph E. Johnston, it virtually ended the war. And as Thomas's skill, endurance, courage, and good fortune enabled him to win the great victory which was the indispensable condition of success for the whole undertaking, the world has naturally not been over-curious to search for

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defects in arrangements which yielded such wonderfully complete results.

It is nevertheless to be remembered that if Sherman had followed up Hood, as the Washington authorities originally intended and desired him to do, before marching to the sea, the destruction of the Confederate army could hardly have failed to be more thorough than it was. The Southwestern and South Atlantic States would have been almost absolutely without defense; and the result of the campaign could hardly have been other than decisive. A certain amount of risk, on the other hand, it cannot be denied, attended the transfer of the greater part of Sherman's command to the Atlantic coast before Hood's army had been disposed of. Grant- who was easily converted to any project of his favorite lieutenant - and Sherman have sometimes shown a disposition to minimize this risk, and hence to consider the victory of Nashville a very ordinary affair; but it must not be forgotten that when Thomas's campaign was being fought Grant was terribly

anxious. He did not know at the time, nor was he afterwards quite willing to admit, the existence of the difficulties under which Thomas labored, and which induced the delay on Thomas's part which Grant thought so unnecessary and só perilous to the retention of our hold on the States of Kentucky and Tennessee. But there were real and potent causes for Grant's anxiety; and of course the action of General Sherman in carrying off sixty thousand men to the seacoast before the campaign in the West had been brought to a successful termination was the underlying cause of it all. Thomas, however, was equal to the occasion. He scored a magnificent success at Nashville. Sherman at the same time captured Savannah. Everything turned out marvelously well. Both officers showed themselves at their best. The risk having passed by, the North reaped the full advantage of the daring march. The task then before Sherman was one to which he was by nature wonderfully adapted, and which he soon brought to a triumphant end. John C. Ropes.

"Dear me!" she cried, leading the way to a sofa. "Sit down, and let me know my opportunities."

I did not want to sit down, but, as I said before, I felt that I must be politic, and so took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

"My errand is a very simple one," I said. "I merely want to know the address of Mother Anastasia in Washington."

The lady folded her hands in her lap, and looked at me steadily.

"Very simple indeed," she assented. "Why do you come to me for this address? Would not the sisters give it to you?"

"For various reasons I did not care to ask them," I replied.

"One of them being, I suppose, that you knew you would not get it." I did not reply to this remark.

"If you know the address," I inquired, "will you kindly give it to me? It is necessary that I should have it at

once.

"To telegraph?" she asked.
"No, I am going to her."

"Oh!" ejaculated the lady, and there was a pause in the conversation. "It does not strike me," she said presently, "that I have any authority to tell gentlemen where to find Mother Anastasia, but I can telegraph and ask her if she is willing that I shall send you to her."

This proposition did not suit me at all. I was quite sure that the Mother Superior would not consider it advisable that I should come to her, and would ask me to postpone my communication until she should return to Arden. But Arden, as I had found, would be a very poor place for the long and earnest interview which I de

sired.

"That would not do," I answered; "she would not understand. I wish to see her on an important matter, which

"You excite my curiosity," said Miss Laniston. "Why don't you make me your confidante? In that case, I

might decide whether or not it would be proper to give you the address."

"Impossible," I said, "that would be impossible."

Miss Laniston's eyes were of a blue gray, and very fine ones, and she fixed them upon me with a lively intentness.

"Do you still hope," she asked, "to marry Sylvia Raynor? Surely you must know that is impossible. She is now a member for life of the sisterhood."

"I know all that," I replied impatiently. "It is not about that matter that I wish to see the Mother Superior."

"Is it then about Mother Anastasia herself? Do you wish to marry her?”

I sprang to my feet in my excitement. "Why do you speak to me in that way," I exclaimed, "and about a woman who is at the head of a religious institution, and whose earthly existence is devoted to it?"

"Not at all," quietly answered the lady. "Mother Anastasia is not a life member of the sisterhood of the House of Martha."

At these words my blood began to boil within me in a manner which I could not comprehend. could not comprehend. My eyeballs seemed to burn, as I stood and gazed speechlessly at my companion.

"You take such an interest in these sisters," she said, "that I supposed you knew that Mother Anastasia joined the sisterhood only for a term of years, now nearly expired. She was made Mother Superior because those who helped form the institution knew that no one else could so well fill the place, especially during its first years. I was one of those persons.

I do not remember a time when my mind was in such a state of ungovernable emotion. Not only was I unable

to control my feelings, but I did not know what they were. One thing only could I comprehend: I must remove this impression from the mind of Miss Laniston, and I could think of no other way of doing it than to confide to her the business on which I wished to see Mother Anastasia. I reseated myself on the sofa, and without delay or preface I laid before her my plan of collaboration with the sisters of the House of Martha; explaining how much better a man could attend to certain outside business than the sisters could do it, and showing how, in a manner, I proposed to become a brother of the House of Martha. Thus only could I defend myself against her irrational and agitating suppositions.

She heard me to the end, and then she leaned back on the sofa and laughed, - laughed until I thought the people in the street must hear her. I was hurt, but said nothing.

"You must excuse me,' " she said, when she was able to speak, "but this is so sudden my mind is not prepared for it. And so you wish to become a brother of the House of Martha? I would be solemn about it if I could, but really I cannot," and again she laughed.

me.

Any

I had to drop the whole affair. person of honor would have done that. I could not help its being funny, you know."

I had become calmer, and was able to be politic again.

"If Mother Anastasia will allow me," I said, "I am willing to promise to tell you what she thinks of my plan."

"Very good," was the reply, "it is a bargain. She is stopping with a friend, Mrs. Gardley, at 906 Alaska Avenue. I address her as Miss Raynor,' I always do when I have a chance, but I think it will be well for you to ask for Mother Anastasia. I arose, and she followed my exam

ple.

"Now, then," said she, "we are friends," and her sparkling eyes seemed to have communicated their merriment to the gems upon the white hand which she held out to me.

I took the hand, and as I did so a politic idea flashed up within me. If I must be friends with this woman, why not make use of her? This was a moment when she was well disposed to

serve me.

"Do not go, " she said; "do not be angry. Forget that I laughed. Now perhaps I can help you. I will make you a promise. If you will agree faithfully to tell me how Mother Anastasia receives your proposition, I will give you her address."

"Promise?" I said severely. "You may remember that this is not the first time you have made me a promise."

"Don't bring up that old affair!" she exclaimed. "What I did then could not be helped. When we had our talk about the sister with whom you had fallen in love, I had no idea she was Sylvia Raynor, the daughter of my hostess. When I discovered the truth,

know, and which I ought to know." "What is it?" she asked.

"What was the trouble which caused Sylvia Raynor to enter the House of Martha?

She withdrew her hand, and reflected for a moment.

"Man is an inquisitive animal," she answered; "but we cannot alter his nature, and there is some excuse for your wanting to know all about Sylvia. She is out of your reach, of course, but you have certainly taken as much interest in her as a man can take in a woman. The matter is not a close secret, and I suppose I may as well tell you that the cause of her entering the sisterhood was nothing at all out of the