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 A correspondent of the Tribune thus describes the scene: At Big Shanty, on the Atlanta line of railroad, stands quite a respectable looking two-storied wooden hotel, which in peace times was used as the dinner station for the famished passengers travelling from Chattanooga, Tennessee, to Atlanta, Georgia. On Friday, while some of our cavalry were out on a reconnoissance, shelling the woods, one of our shells passed through a part of the hotel, entering a large sleeping apartment containing some eight or ten bedsteads, and passing through th.e bedstead out of the south side of the room, the shell burst in the yard. At this time, several rebel officers were partaking leisurely of a sumptuous dinner, and, without waiting for orders, they changed their base, retiring in the wildest confusion. Several ladies were in the hotel at the time this unruly “Yankee” messenger entered, and one of them was in the room through which the shell whizzed on its deadly errand, but fortunately the fuse was long enough to prevent its explosion for several seconds, thereby saving the terrified woman's life. Upon the arrival of our advance at Big Shanty, this hotel, which was quite well furnished for this section of the country, was guarded. The owners having abandoned the property the guard was relieved, and in less than half an hour the rooms were filled, yes, the hotel was fairly besieged with soldiers representing every arm of the service, with a sprinkling of negro servants, the rough crowd all intent upon getting “something good to eat,” while another portion was bent upon mis
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