We stepped in at the first door. It was a confectioner's establishment, and there were several men in the room. We looked into the show-cases and at other objects of interest, when presently all left the room except one elderly looking man and ourselves. Just as the old man was filling the stove with coal I approached him and asked, "Is there a person doing business anywhere in this part of the city named John Phillips?" As the old man set his coal bucket down he said, "My name is John Phillips." It was the first inquiry we had made and would have been the last, as we were anxious to get back to the barracks for dinner. After our surprise had subsided somewhat the old gentleman wished to know what we wanted. We told him of our promise to a man at Camp Reynolds, Virginia, and asked if he had received a letter from a man by the name of Gasper. He answered that he had not. After telling him we had been prisoners of war, and had come into the lines at Gauley Bridge about a week before, Smith went on to tell him all he knew about "Jack Phillips" as a prisoner at Danville, Virginia. On hearing Smith's account of Jack, the old gentleman, bursting into tears, said he had long since given his son up as dead, and could hardly hope or believe he was yet alive; at least he should not tell the news to his family, for fear the man we spoke of might be another of the same name. Smith thought there could be no mistake, as it would not be likely to happen that two of the same name should enlist in the same regiment from the same city. "Strange things sometimes happen in this world," observed Mr. Phillips. The old gentleman wished us to eat some cakes and pies and drink some wine, of which there seemed to be an abundance in the room. We consented, as it was noon, and would save us a walk to the barracks for dinner. Just as we had finished eating, a man entered the room holding several letters in his hand, two of which he handed to Mr. Phillips. On opening the first letter Mr. Phillips found it to be the one Gasper had written at Camp Reynolds, Virginia. The coincidence caused Mr. Phillips to conclude his son must yet be alive, and he determined to acquaint his family with the news he had received. The letter coming to hand, telling about us, while we were present to answer for ourselves, and our addressing our first, last, and only inquiry for Mr. Phillips to Mr. Phillips himself, in a great city, where there were thousands of people, seemed strange, and forbade the suspicion that our report was untrue. Mr. Phillips invited us to call on him each day during our stay in the city. We called on him the next day, March 31st, which was our last day in Cincinnati. I have since learned--though indirectly--that "Jack" afterward died as a prisoner, either at Danville, Virginia, or Andersonville, Georgia. Historical Memoranda. COMPANY "C," 73D REGIMENT ILLINOIS INFANTRY VOLUNTEERS. BY W. H. NEWLIN.