and Terry. An army more indomitable as to spirit and more tatterdemalion as to attire than Sherman's when it reached Goldsboro' can scarcely be imagined. A gunboat had visited us at Fayetteville, but no clothing or equipments came, and the men went through in the same clothes in which they started from Savannah, except where supplemented from rebel wardrobes. Officers as well as men were ragged, half shod or shoeless, and smeared from head to foot with the pitch of the North Carolina pine. They were footsore also, and worn out with fighting the elements and the enemy. In this condition the attempt was made to force a grand review at Goldsboro' before General Schofield and his army, who were in exceptionally clean and comfortable attire. This was a little too much, and mutterings were heard on every hand. The men declared if they must pass in review it should be done with everything in harmony, and this feeling was openly countenanced or winked at by the officers.

The review commenced, but it did not last very long. I don't know who stopped it. Perhaps the one or two regiments that did pass by the reviewing officers were considered a sufficient sample of the whole. At all events we were all ordered back to our camps, and the review was the joke of the army for a season. Probably in all the wars of the world there never was seen so bizarre and comical a sight as the leading regiments of this column which commenced that review. Nearly every soldier had some token of the march on his bayonet from a pig to a potato. It was no doubt considered the sooner the show was ended the better for the discipline of the army.

The history of the march from Goldsboro' to Raleigh and the surrender of the last great army of the Rebellion is familiar to all. In his proposed treaty with Johnston, Sherman displayed the rare qualities which distinguished his career. He had been as inexorable as fate and severe enough to suit the most exacting while Rebellion yet held arms in its hands, but when the cause was abandoned and the arms laid down, he did not forget moderation in the intoxication of success, or justice in the plenitude of power. I shall perhaps differ in this also from many of my comrades who listen to this paper, but to my mind Sherman brightened the lustre of his triumphal march by the brighter splendor of moderation and clemency at its close.

REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR

IN THE

DEPARTMENT OF THE MISSOURI,

BY BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN B. SANBORN,

BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL U. S. VOLUNTEERS.

COMPANIONS:-The attractions of war are its unfading laurels, its imperishable glories. For these men aim, and strive to win them as priceless gems or immortal crowns. The dazzling lustre of these laurels hides from view the weary march, the exposed bivouac, the suffering, the wounds, the death on the battle-field. In a few months of actual service the illusion vanishes, and all soldiers soon learn that while toil, labor, exposure, wounds, and death in war are for the many, the glory and the renown are for the few.

It is very agreeable and pleasant for us to write, speak of, and contemplate the pleasant and glorious things of the war and of our army life; it may, however, be not less profitable to ourselves and to future generations for us to dwell awhile, and write somewhat of the unpleasant and destructive phases of war, of its effect upon peaceful and orderly communities; the bitterness and wrath that in civil war is engendered be

tween man and man, and neighborhood and neighborhood; of those deep-seated and hidden passions that lie concealed in the breasts of civilized and Christianized people, which break forth when kindled and aroused by war and civil strife, and lead to more horrible and cruel deeds than have ever been practised by the most savage of our aboriginal tribes upon the most hated of their fallen enemies; how at such times

"Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And, unawares, morality expires."

Vicksburg had fallen. The rebel armies had been hurled back in disorder from the bloody heights of Gettysburg; the Army of the Cumberland was temporarily at bay near the well-contested field of Chickamauga, waiting for the Army of the Tennessee, from which it had separated a little more than a year before, after the surrender of Corinth, to again join hands with her, and, by a combined movement and effort, overwhelm the only remaining well-organized army in the Confederacy. It was now October, 1863. My old command, First Brigade, Seventh Division, Seventeenth Army Corps, Army of the Tennessee, had reached Iuka, leaving the Mississippi River at Memphis on its march to Chattanooga to join the Army of the Cumberland. Thirty or forty general officers, who were to join their commands by the Memphis and Charleston Railroad in a day or two, were in the room occupied by General Grant at the Gayoso House at Memphis. The general was at his table writing as rapidly as he could move his pen, when an orderly handed him a telegram. He opened it and read it aloud. It was from General

Halleck at Washington, then general-in-chief of the armies, and directed General Grant to send one, or, if he could possibly spare them, two general officers to General Schofield at St. Louis to aid him in driving the rebel forces under General Shelby from Missouri. The explosion of a bomb-shell would not have produced a more marked effect. The more nervous of these officers jumped from their seats and left the room. Those who remained looked at General Grant and then at each other, as if expecting a dire calamity to befall them.

All had been with him through his campaigns of 1862 and 1863, knew their own commands and all other commands and commanders in that army, and for one to leave was like the breaking up of a family and leaving home. Whatever of rank or fame or military reputation each had acquired had been won in that army, and to leave was to leave home and friends, honor and fame, civilized and honorable warfare, and go among strangers, into a dark and bloody region, where the war was carried on with a barbarity and cruelty that would have been disapproved by the Comanche or Sioux Indians.

General Grant saw, in an instant, how repulsive the idea was to every one of his officers, and remarked, "The service will be but temporary; whoever goes I will see that he is back to his command before I am ready to advance from Chattanooga;" and turning towards me, said, "General, no brigade in the absence of its commander has as good a commander as yours.' (This was a compliment to Colonel Jesse I. Alexander, Fifty-ninth Indiana Volunteers, who was with him in