question of supplies was an urgent one, and on the 12th, the brigade was started out northeast from Knoxville, for the purpose of occupying and operating the various mills of the country. About thirteen miles out, the 88th took possession of a mill. The 36th marched twenty miles to Bratton's Mill on the Holston, where they staid several days, other regiments of the brigade scattering in various directions. On the 16th they started back, arrived in Knoxville about noon of the following day, marched to the depot and were supplied with sixty rounds of cartridge per man, also some rations of hard bread, sugar and coffee, which were gladly welcomed. At ten o'clock P. M., they took the train for McMillen Station, and next day started out to "Blaine's Cross Roads," the camp which, for many reasons, will never be forgotten. Here they remained, with the usual camp interruptions, until the regiment, having re-enlisted, started home on their Veteran Furlough.

Gen. Granger was by no means a favorite with the troops. Although personally an able officer, he retained that contempt for volunteers and subordinates which characterized many officers of the regular army, and was peculiarly harsh and unfeeling in his treatment of the men. These qualities had shown themselves during his command in Mississippi, and when he was placed at the head of the Fourth Corps, it can not be said that he was welcomed. On the march for the relief of Knoxville, he maintained his arrogant demeanor towards those with whom he was associated, and particularly towards private soldiers; inflicting on them barbarous and humiliating punishments for neglect of duty or infraction of military etiquette. Gen. Sheridan, prior to the Rebellion, was very intimately acquainted with Granger, at one time serving under him as lieutenant, and the familiarity of the past was in a measure resumed.

GEN. SHERIDAN'S HUMANITY.

541 At one time, after a soldier belonging to Sheridan's Division had been tied and inhumanly beaten with a rope's end, Gen. Sheridan proceeded to Granger's headquarters, and firmly protested against such punishments being inflicted upon his men, stating that he could punish those under his command himself, if they deserved it, without any interference, and among other things, said, "Sir, if you had seen these men where I have seen them, and been with them in the face of death as I have, the thought of whipping one of them would bring tears to your eyes, instead of harsh upbraidings." This conversation was overheard by a 36th soldier on guard, and coming to the ears of the troops, still more, if possible, endeared Gen. Sheridan in the affections of his men.

At this camp, in the very wilderness, the mail came to us twice. Frank Raymond says: "Our severest trip was while our command was in East Tennessee. Our depot was Chattanooga, and we had a long, tiresome and exceedingly dangerous trip through the enemy's country, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five to one hundred and fifty miles. The roads were in terrible condition, and the woods were infested with bushwhackers, but fortunately we were never captured, although we had some very narrow escapes. At one time, I remember, I was journeying towards Knoxville with my mail, when within about thirty-five miles of that place I heard a horse galloping rapidly behind me. I turned in my saddle and discovered a Rebel cavalry man approaching me. It was too late to run, so I decided to hold my ground and take the consequences. He galloped up to my side and spoke to me, and soon satisfied my fears by informing me that he was a Federal spy and that his name was Carter; that his father was an old Baptist preacher, living some twenty-six miles south of Knoxville, towards which place we

journeyed together. That night he showed me his papers, signed by Gen. Burnside, and next day we rode into Knoxville. I felt very proud of my prisoner as we rode by the picket guard, but as he had a pass from Gen. Burnside, while mine was only signed by Gen. Sheridan, I concluded not to turn him over to the authorities, although he did wear a Confederate uniform."

On the 21st, Major Sherman started for Illinois in command of a recruiting party, to fill up the thinned ranks of the old regiment. On the 23rd, a falling tree laid the headquarters tent level, but fortunately no one was hurt.

Christmas was a dull day. About the time that the stockings were emptied at home, the boys were choking and crying over the smoke, trying to get warm. Silas Dyer, who for the first time was sick in hospital at Knoxville, says: "Self and companion managed to get a couple of stuffed chickens for a Christmas dinner, prepared by an Ethiopian cook.

appear to enjoy it hugely, but we can't see it.''

Towns-people

On Tuesday, the 29th, the Chaplain and Assistant Surgeon Hatch arrived in camp. The Chaplain had not been with the regiment since leaving it just before the battle of Mission Ridge. After reaching Illinois, he visited Aurora, Elgin, Oswego, Bristol, Newark, etc., seeing many of the families of the men, and distributing the money. He also gave some public addresses, describing the condition and prospects of the army and showing the hardships which they had suffered in the siege. Everywhere the proposition to send a supply of socks and mittens to the regiment, as a greeting from friends at home, met with a hearty response, and within a few days money enough was placed in his hands, the socks and mittens were purchased, and he started back with his huge box filled to the utmost. It was a very difficult task to secure transportation for it, especially from Louisville,

THE DIVISION HOSPITAL.

543 and only by the most persistent and personal attention could it be brought along. At last, however, arriving at Stevenson, he found Quartermaster Sutherland with his train, who took it in charge and in due time delivered it at Chattanooga. About noon, December 12th, the Chaplain arrived at the division hospital, which was in charge of Surgeon Lytle, who insisted he should remain and assist him with the wounded men instead of joining the regiment. As it was yet uncertain whether they would not come back, he consented to do so, and for two weeks gave his time to the hospital. The building was a very large one, built like a huge barn, three stories high. It had been erected by the South when Chattanooga was their principal base. Here Surgeon Lytle, with his assistants, were hard at work, while Steward J. C. Denison had charge of the supply department. Besides what was furnished by Government, the Sanitary and Christian Commissions were now accumulating large stores, both of clothing and food suitable for the sick and wounded, and our hospital was treated with great liberality and kindness by these agencies. It is simply impossible to overrate the benefits derived by our army from these institutions, which helped save thousands of valuable lives, besides mitigating much suffering. Like all hospitals of such a size, this one afforded some curious illustrations of the freaks which are sometimes played by the deadly missiles, as well as the wonderful endurance of the men. Surgeon Lytle kept full reports of forty cases of special interest. One man lived twenty-five days after a ball had passed almost through the centre of the brain; could sit up on the side of his cot, and lived four days after the right carotid artery had been tied.

In the various wards of this hospital, services were held from time to time, as opportunity offered. Sometimes in the evening, when all work, dressing wounds, etc., had ceased, Scripture

Imme

was read, a hymn sung and prayer offered, and on Sabbath, a short discourse was preached in each room. A large quantity of reading matter was also distributed. Many interesting incidents occurred, bringing out the religious feelings of the men. diately after his arrival, the Chaplain looked up the wounded of the 36th; found W. Reeder hopeful, and apparently doing well, but that night he was sent for to visit him, as he was fast sinking. He spoke most confidently of his trust in Christ, and, as on the battle-field, he was now ready for death in the hospital. During the night he passed away, and was buried in the National Cemetery, on the 14th.

The men, in the midst of their sufferings, were enthusiastic in their accounts of the battle, and never tired of detailing the events of that memorable day. One man, Sergt. Hough, Company H, 15th Indiana, gave a most graphic account of his being shot down on the side of the ridge, and as he lay there, bleeding from a cut artery, realizing that he must have help at once, or die, he lifted up his heart to God and prayed for his life, promising to devote himself to His service. Almost immediately, some men with a stretcher were directed that way; found him, stopped the bleeding and had him conveyed to the hospital. "Now," said the Chaplain, after he had finished his exciting account, "don't you think you ought to keep your vow?" "Yes, I do," he said. "Well, will you?" "Yes," said he "I will." Prayer was offered, in which he joined, and as he was visited from day to day, he gave evidence that he had become truly penitent, and was filled with quiet and holy peace. He continued to be as enthusiastic as ever about the battle, but spoke of himself in humble and broken accents. He seemed particularly grateful as he remembered the prayers and anxieties of his loving wife, who, he said, had never ceased to pray for him and his