Second.  The smaller farmers, mechanics, merchants, and laborers.  This class will probably number three-quarters of the whole; have, in fact, no real interest in the establishment of a Southern Confederacy, and have been led or driven into war on the false theory that they were to be benefited somehow—­they knew not how.  They are essentially tired of the war, and would slink back home if they could.  These are the real tiers etat of the South, and are hardly worthy a thought; for they swerve to and fro according to events which they do not comprehend or attempt to shape.  When the time for reconstruction comes, they will want the old political system of caucuses, Legislatures, etc., to amuse them and make them believe they are real sovereigns; but in all things they will follow blindly the lead of the planters.  The Southern politicians, who understand this class, use them as the French do their masses —­seemingly consult their prejudices, while they make their orders and enforce them.  We should do the same.

Third.  The Union men of the South.  I must confess I have little respect for this class.  They allowed a clamorous set of demagogues to muzzle and drive them as a pack of curs.  Afraid of shadows, they submit tamely to squads of dragoons, and permit them, without a murmur, to burn their cotton, take their horses, corn, and every thing; and, when we reach them, they are full of complaints if our men take a few fence-rails for fire, or corn to feed our horses.  They give us no assistance or information, and are loudest in their complaints at the smallest excesses of our soldiers.  Their sons, horses, arms, and every thing useful, are in the army against us, and they stay at home, claiming all the exemptions of peaceful citizens.  I account them as nothing in this great game of war.

Fourth.  The young bloods of the South:  sons of planters, lawyers about towns, good billiard-players and sportsmen, men who never did work and never will.  War suits them, and the rascals are brave, fine riders, bold to rashness, and dangerous subjects in every sense.  They care not a sou for niggers, land, or any thing.  They hate Yankees per se, and don’t bother their brains about the past, present, or future.  As long as they have good horses, plenty of forage, and an open country, they are happy.  This is a larger class than most men suppose, and they are the most dangerous set of men that this war has turned loose upon the world.  They are splendid riders, first-rate shots, and utterly reckless.  Stewart, John Morgan, Forrest, and Jackson, are the types and leaders of this class.  These men must all be killed or employed by us before we can hope for peace.  They have no property or future, and therefore cannot be influenced by any thing, except personal considerations.  I have two brigades of these fellows in my front, commanded by Cosby, of the old army, and Whitfield, of Texas.  Stephen D. Lee is in command of the whole.  I have frequent