s acquaintances with faces depicting
the utmost gloom, he asked what was the matter.

"Bad enough," said one. "Fort Donelson has surrendered with nearly all
its garrison."

"That is terrible," said my friend, assuming a look of agony, though
he was inwardly elated.

"Yes, and the enemy are moving on Nashville."

"Horrible news," was the response; "but let us not be too despondent.
Our men are good for them, one against three, and they will never get
out of Nashville alive, if they should happen to take it."

With another expression of deep sorrow at the misfortune which had
befallen the Rebel army, this gentleman hastened to convey the glad
news to his friends. "I reached home," said he, "locked my front door,
called my wife and sister into the parlor, and instantly jumped over
the center-table. They both cried for joy when I told them the old
flag floated over Donelson."

The Secessionists in Memphis, like their brethren elsewhere, insisted
that all the points we had captured were given up because they had no
further use for them. The evacuation of Columbus, Fort Pillow, Fort
Henry, and Bowling Green, with the surrender of Donelson, were parts
of the grand strategy of the Rebel leaders, and served to lure us on
to our destruction. They would never admit a defeat, but contended we
had invariably suffered.

An uneducated farmer, on the route followed by one of our armies in
Tennessee, told our officers that a Rebel general and his staff had
taken dinner with him during the retreat from Nashville. The farmer
was anxious to learn something about the military situation, and asked
a Rebel major how the Confederate cause was progressing.

"Splendidly," answered the major. "We have whipped the Yankees in
every battle, and our independence will soon be recognized."

The farmer was thoughtful for a minute or two, and then deliberately
said:

"I don't know much about war, but if we are always whipping the
Yankees, how is it they keep coming down into our country after every
battle?"

The major grew red in the face, and told the farmer that any man
who asked such an absurd question was an Abolitionist, and deserved
hanging to the nearest tree. The farmer was silenced, but not
satisfied.

I had a fine illustration of the infatuation of the Rebel
sympathizers, a few days after Memphis was captured. One evening,
while making a visit at the house of an acquaintance, the hostess
introduced me to a young lady of the str