el;" the
sign "United States" being faintly painted out, and "Confederate"
painted over it! I remembered that hotel, as it was the
supper-station for the New Orleans trains when I used to travel the
road before the war. I had not the least purpose, however, of
burning it, but, just as we were leaving the town, it burst out in
flames and was burned to the ground. I never found out exactly who
set it on fire, but was told that in one of our batteries were some
officers and men who had been made prisoners at Shiloh, with
Prentiss's division, and had been carried past Jackson in a
railroad-train; they had been permitted by the guard to go to this
very hotel for supper, and had nothing to pay but greenbacks, which
were refused, with insult, by this same law-abiding landlord.
These men, it was said, had quietly and stealthily applied the fire
underneath the hotel just as we were leaving the town.

About dark we met General Grant's staff-officer near Bolton
Station, who turned us to the right, with orders to push on to
Vicksburg by what was known as the upper Jackson Road, which
crossed the Big Black at Bridgeport. During that day (May 16th)
the battle of Champion Hills had been fought and won by
McClernand's and McPherson's corps, aided by one division of mine
(Blairs), under the immediate command of General Grant; and
McPherson was then following the mass of Pemberton's army,
disordered and retreating toward Vicksburg by the Edwards's Ferry
road. General Blair's division had come up from the rear, was
temporarily attached to McClernand's corps, taking part with it in
the battle of Champion Hills, but on the 17th it was ordered by
General Grant across to Bridgeport, to join me there.

Just beyond Bolton there was a small hewn-log house, standing back
in a yard, in which was a well; at this some of our soldiers were
drawing water. I rode in to get a drink, and, seeing a book on the
ground, asked some soldier to hand it to me. It was a volume of
the Constitution of the United States, and on the title-page was
written the name of Jefferson Davis. On inquiry of a negro, I
learned that the place belonged to the then President of the
Southern Confederation. His brother Joe Davis's plantation was not
far off; one of my staff-officers went there, with a few soldiers,
and took a pair of carriage-horses, without my knowledge at the
time. He found Joe Davis at home, an old man, attended by a young
and affectionate niece; b