My indulgent and kind readers, I would be glad if I could draw down the veil upon the disasters and defeats we met with from the hands of the rebels whilst our brave men were battling for freedom, and the reunion of all the States. But, alas, alas! that would never do, and I must tell the whole truth on both sides. We had our victories in plenty, and there was a general caving-in of Secessia going on continually, but O dear me! what drawbacks and disasters there are for the historian to tell! The whole nation was still smarting from our signal defeat at Olustee, Fla., when the butchery at Fort Pillow fell upon us like a thunderstorm in summer. I can’t tell which was the worst in its way—our complete defeat, our flight and almost total annihilation at Olustee, or the barbarous murders at Fort Pillow. Our defeat at Olustee took place on the 20th of February, 1864. We must, in the first place, thank our General Gillmore for disobeying orders, and leading his black and white troops into that perfect trap which the rebels had prepared for us among the forest trees at Olustee. They had their masked batteries, and all their perfect preparations of war completely concealed from us till we were right inside the very trap itself, and then General Gillmore, instead of drawing back his forces and forming them into a regular line of battle, wildly rushed one regiment after another into the powerful rebel position that lay concealed between two swamps, where our poor fellows were just mown down like grass before the scythe. When eight hundred colored soldiers and six hundred white ones had thus been placed hors de combat, we turned and fled for Jacksonville, and all along the way the rebels followed up our retreat, and all the fugitives alike shared the disasters of a defeat, which was most complete in every part. The exultation at the South, of course, was as great as our depression of spirits at the North, for it was another Braddock’s defeat over again; but then war is as much of a game as a game of cards, or a game at the checker-board. Thus one was in joy whilst the other was in grief; in the same way the dark night follows the bright day, and sunshine gives way to shadow. It is the self-same with the individual as with the nation. Which one of us has not had a grand day of triumph, as well as his night of misfortune and distress? What proportion our defeats bore to our victories I am at this time unable to say; but I know they were a very high percentage of the whole, as we found out to our cost. It is not my intention to open up the whole question, but there is at least one horror that I must mention besides actual conflict on the battle-field, which is, that the nation lost about 80,000 men that were starved to death (I might almost say) or perished through misusage and neglect, and the want of all comforts in the Southern prisons, at Richmond, Andersonville and elsewhere. Whilst we were fattening their men in our