The Only Good Indian Is A Dead

I Intend To Make Georgia Howl.

A Battery Of Field Artillery Is Worth A Thousand Muskets.

There Is Many A Boy Here Today Who Looks On War As All Glory, But, Boys, It Is All Hell. You Can Bear This Warning Voice To Generations Yet To Come. I Look Upon War With Horror.

The Young Bloods Of The South: Sons Of Planters, Lawyers About Towns, Good Billiard-players And Sportsmen, Men Who Never Did Any Work And Never Will... They Are Splendid Riders, First-rate Shots And Utterly Reckless. These Men Must All Be Killed Or Employed By Us Before We Can Hope For Peace.

You Might As Well Appeal Against The Thunderstorm.