There were other soldiers who did not join in the cheers. They rejoiced at his removal and the appointment of General Burnside. They felt that he had failed as a commander, and that he was incompetent to command a great army. They remembered their hardships, privations, sufferings, and losses on the Peninsula; they recalled the fact, that while the battle was raging at Malvern, he was on board a gunboat. Perhaps they did not fully weigh all the circumstances of the case--that it was necessary for him to consult Commodore Rogers relative to joint operations of the army and navy; but it looked like cowardice. General Kearny, the idol of his division, then sleeping in a soldier's grave, had declared it to be cowardice or treason; and the soldiers who had fought under the command of one who had been in the battle-clouds on the heights of Chapultepec and on the plains of Solferino, who had dashed like a lion upon the enemy at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, Glendale, and Groveton, were not likely to forget the sentiments of one so brave and brilliant as he. In all the battles of the Peninsula, they could not remember that General McClellan had been upon the field. When Fair Oaks was fought, he was north of the Chickahominy; when Lee with his whole army approached Gaines's Mills, he removed to the south side of the river. He passed White-Oak Swamp before the enemy came to Savage Station. He was at Malvern when they appeared at Glendale, and on board the gunboat when they came to Malvern. They did not consider that he rode to Malvern once during the day. Sitting by their camp-fires, the soldiers talked over the matter. There was no disaffection. They were too good soldiers to make any demonstration of disapprobation. Besides, General Burnside had been successful at Roanoke, Newbern, and South Mountain; and success gives confidence. The soldiers were in earnest in carrying on the war. The people were impatient at the delays of General McClellan in the east, and General Buell in the west. Riding from the east to the west and back again in the cars, after the battle of Antietam, I had an opportunity to know how the people were affected by the war. It was the last week in October. The mountains were purple, scarlet, and crimson, and had it not been that there was war in the land, one might have dreamed that he was in Eden,--so beautiful the landscape, so resplendent the days. But there were sad scenes. A mother bidding farewell to her son, the wife to her husband, the father to his children, taking them in his arms, perhaps, for the last time, dashing aside the tears, kissing them again and again, folding them to his heart, tearing himself away at last, sitting down by himself and weeping, while the swift train bore them away. It was not for military glory, not for honor, or fame, but for his country!