"In the following year he led the Army of the Tennessee on the right of Sherman's great march to the sea. He was in the battles of Resaca and the Little Kenesaw Mountain, and in the desperate engagement of Peach Tree Creek where General M'Pherson fell. The death of M'Pherson threw the command upon Logan, and the close of the bitter engagement which ensued saw 8,000 dead Confederates on the field, while the havoc in the Union lines had been correspondingly great.
"After the fall of Atlanta, which occurred on the 2nd of September, General Logan returned to the North, and took a vigorous part in the Western States in the campaign which resulted in the election of Abraham Lincoln for the second time to the presidency. He rejoined his command at Savannah, and was with it until the surrender of Johnson, after which he went with the army to Washington.
"His military career ended with his nomination in 1866 by the Republicans of Illinois to represent the State as Congressman at-large in the Fortieth Congress. He was elected by 60,000 majority. He was one of the managers on the part of the House of Representatives in the impeachment proceedings which were instituted against Johnson. In 1868 and 1870 he was re-elected to the House, but before he had finished his term under the last election he was elected to the United States Senate to succeed Senator Yates. The last term for which he was elected expires in 1891.
"He took an active part in the last presidential campaign, when he and Mr. Blaine were the candidates on the presidential ticket, and had a strong influence in holding the soldier vote fast in the Republican ranks."
Mr. Logan's views in regard to the immortality of the soul was clearly expressed in a speech delivered at the tomb of General Grant on Memorial Day, 1886:
"Was any American soldier immolated upon a blind law of his country? Not one! Every soldier in the Union ranks, whether in the regular army or not, was in the fullest sense a member of the great, the imperishable, the immortal army of American volunteers. These gallant spirits now lie in untimely sepulcher. No more will they respond to the fierce blast of the bugle or the call to arms. But let us believe that they are not dead, but sleeping! Look at the patient caterpillar as he crawls on the ground, liable to be crushed by every careless foot that passes. He heeds no menace, and turns from no dangers. Regardless of circumstances, he treads his daily round, avoided by the little child sporting upon the sward. He has work, earnest work, to perform, from which he will not be turned, even at the forfeit of his life. Reaching his appointed place, he ceases even to eat, and begins to spin those delicate fibres which, woven into fabrics of beauty and utility, contribute to the comfort and adornment of a superior race. His work done, he lies down to the sleep from which he never wakes in the old form. But that silent, motionless body is not dead; an astonishing metamorphosis is taking place. The gross digestive apparatus dwindles away; the three pairs of legs, which served the creature to crawl upon the ground, are exchanged for six pairs suited to a different purpose; the skin is cast; the form is changed; a pair of wings, painted like the morning flowers, spring out, and presently the ugly worm that trailed its slow length through the dust is transformed into the beautiful butterfly, basking in the bright sunshine, the envy of the child and the admiration of the man. Is there no appeal in this wonderful and enchanting fact to man's highest reason? Does it contain no suggestion that man, representing the highest pinnacle of created life upon the globe, must undergo a final metamorphosis, as supremely more marvelous and more spiritual, as man is greater in physical conformation, and far removed in mental construction from the humble worm that at the call of nature straightway leaves the ground, and soars upon the gleeful air? Is the fact not a thousand-fold more convincing than the assurance of the poet:
"It must be so; Plato, thou reasonest well;
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this dread secret and inward horror
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man,
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought."
"On December 26th, 1886, the strong man succumbed to rheumatism. His death was a great shock to his numerous friends throughout the Union, and he was mourned by a great and mighty nation. From the lowly ranks to whom he belonged by birth, to the most exalted circles, the sympathy for the bereaved was genuine."