rom the fort, and the forest there were answering shouts. The
wounded in the hospitals forgot, for the moment, that they were torn and
mangled, raised themselves on their beds of straw, and mingled their
feeble cheers in the universal rejoicing!

Thirteen thousand men, sixty-seven pieces of artillery, and fifteen
thousand small arms were surrendered. A motley, care-worn, haggard,
anxious crowd stood at the landing. I sprang ashore, and walked through
the ranks. Some were standing, some lying down, taking no notice of what
was going on around them. They were prisoners of war. When they joined
the army, they probably did not dream that they would be taken
prisoners. They were to be victorious, and capture the Yankees. They
were poor, ignorant men. Not half of them knew how to read or write.
They had been deluded by their leaders,--the slaveholders. They had
fought bravely, but they had been defeated, and their generals had
deserted them. No wonder they were down-hearted.

Their clothes were of all colors. Some wore gray, some blue, some
butternut-colored clothes,--a dirty brown. They were very ragged. Some
had old quilts for blankets, others faded pieces of carpeting, others
strips of new carpeting, which they had taken from the stores. Some had
caps, others old slouched felt hats, and others nothing but straw hats
upon their heads.

"We fought well, but you outnumbered us," said one.

"We should have beaten you as it was, if it hadn't been for your
gunboats," said another.

"How happened it that General Floyd and General Pillow escaped, and left
you?" I asked.

"They are traitors. I would shoot the scoundrels, if I could get a
chance," said a fellow in a snuff-colored coat, clenching his fist.

"I am glad the fighting is over. I don't want to see another such day as
yesterday," said a Tennesseean, who was lying on the ground.

"What will General Grant do with us? Will he put us in prison?" asked
one.

"That will depend upon how you behave. If you had not taken up arms
against your country, you would not have been in trouble now."

"We couldn't help it, sir. I was forced into the army, and I am glad I
am a prisoner. I sha'n't have to fight any more," said a blue-eyed young
man, not more than eighteen years old.

There were some who were very sullen and sour, and there were others who
did not care what became of them.

I went up the hill into the town. Nearly every house was filled with the
dying and the dea