I saw the white flag flying on the breastworks. The soldiers and sailors saw it, and cheered. General Grant had moved his head-quarters to the steamboat Uncle Sam, and, as I happened to be on board that boat, I saw a great deal that took place. The gunboats, and all the steamboats, fifty or more, began to move up the river. Dense clouds of smoke rolled up from the tall chimneys. The great wheels plashed the sparkling stream. Flags were flying on all the staffs. The army began its march into the fort. The bands played. How grand the crash of the drums and the trumpets! The soldiers marched proudly. The columns were winding along the hills,--the artillery, the infantry, the cavalry, with all their banners waving, and the bright sunshine gleaming and glistening on their bayonets! They entered the fort, and planted their standards on the embankments. The gunboats and the field artillery fired a grand salute. From the steamboats, from the hillside, from the fort, and the forest there were answering shouts. The wounded in the hospitals forgot, for the moment, that they were torn and mangled, raised themselves on their beds of straw, and mingled their feeble cheers in the universal rejoicing! Thirteen thousand men, sixty-seven pieces of artillery, and fifteen thousand small arms were surrendered. A motley, care-worn, haggard, anxious crowd stood at the landing. I sprang ashore, and walked through the ranks. Some were standing, some lying down, taking no notice of what was going on around them. They were prisoners of war. When they joined the army, they probably did not dream that they would be taken prisoners. They were to be victorious, and capture the Yankees. They were poor, ignorant men. Not half of them knew how to read or write. They had been deluded by their leaders,--the slaveholders. They had fought bravely, but they had been defeated, and their generals had deserted them. No wonder they were down-hearted. Their clothes were of all colors. Some wore gray, some blue, some butternut-colored clothes,--a dirty brown. They were very ragged. Some had old quilts for blankets, others faded pieces of carpeting, others strips of new carpeting, which they had taken from the stores. Some had caps, others old slouched felt hats, and others nothing but straw hats upon their heads. "We fought well, but you outnumbered us," said one. "We should have beaten you as it was, if it hadn't been for your gunboats," said another. "How happened it that General Floyd and General Pillow escaped, and left you?" I asked. "They are traitors. I would shoot the scoundrels, if I could get a chance," said a fellow in a snuff-colored coat, clenching his fist. "I am glad the fighting is over. I don't want to see another such day as yesterday," said a Tennesseean, who was lying on the ground. "What will General Grant do with us? Will he put us in prison?" asked one.