As January dragged slowly away into February, rumors of the astonishing success of Sherman began to be so definite and well authenticated as to induce belief.  We knew that the Western Chieftain had marched almost unresisted through Georgia, and captured Savannah with comparatively little difficulty.  We did not understand it, nor did the Rebels around us, for neither of us comprehended the Confederacy’s near approach to dissolution, and we could not explain why a desperate attempt was not made somewhere to arrest the onward sweep of the conquering armies of the West.  It seemed that if there was any vitality left in Rebeldom it would deal a blow that would at least cause the presumptuous invader to pause.  As we knew nothing of the battles of Franklin and Nashville, we were ignorant of the destruction of Hood’s army, and were at a loss to account for its failure to contest Sherman’s progress.  The last we had heard of Hood, he had been flanked out of Atlanta, but we did not understand that the strength or morale of his force had been seriously reduced in consequence.

Soon it drifted in to us that Sherman had cut loose from Savannah, as from Atlanta, and entered South Carolina, to repeat there the march through her sister State.  Our sources of information now were confined to the gossip which our men—­working outside on parole,—­could overhear from the Rebels, and communicate to us as occasion served.  These occasions were not frequent, as the men outside were not allowed to come in except rarely, or stay long then.  Still we managed to know reasonably, soon that Sherman was sweeping resistlessly across the State, with Hardee, Dick Taylor, Beauregard, and others, vainly trying to make head against him.  It seemed impossible to us that they should not stop him soon, for if each of all these leaders had any command worthy the name the aggregate must make an army that, standing on the defensive, would give Sherman a great deal of trouble.  That he would be able to penetrate into the State as far as we were never entered into our minds.

By and by we were astonished at the number of the trains that we could hear passing north on the Charleston & Cheraw Railroad.  Day and night for two weeks there did not seem to be more than half an hour’s interval at any time between the rumble and whistles of the trains as they passed Florence Junction, and sped away towards Cheraw, thirty-five miles north of us.  We at length discovered that Sherman had reached Branchville, and was singing around toward Columbia, and other important points to the north; that Charleston was being evacuated, and its garrison, munitions and stores were being removed to Cheraw, which the Rebel Generals intended to make their new base.  As this news was so well confirmed as to leave no doubt of it, it began to wake up and encourage all the more hopeful of us.  We thought we could see some premonitions of the glorious end, and that we were getting vicarious satisfaction at the hands of our friends under the command of Uncle Billy.