These victories were so important, and had such a decided influence upon the destinies of the nation, that the hearts of the people were filled with gratitude. The president appointed a day of thanksgiving, and Grant was renewedly hailed as the savior of the country. He was not dazzled by the elevated position he had achieved. Not a vain-glorious remark escaped his lips; not a particle of vanity was apparent in his looks or his manner. Neither the victories he had won, nor the spontaneous homage of the people, turned his thought from the cause to himself. Early in December, as soon as the campaign was fairly closed, and in the very despatch in which he announced the final results, he renewed his proposition for an expedition against Mobile. He does not ask to go home and receive the plaudits of his fellow-citizens; he does not hint at a moment of respite to enjoy the laurels he had won; he does not even require time to rest his weary frame, and recover entirely from his injuries. He is ready to organize immediately an attack upon Mobile. He mentions his route, and proposes to take it or invest it before the end of the next month. He was still in earnest, but the government were not prepared to authorize the movement. Burnside had been superseded at Knoxville by Foster, and Grant visited his headquarters to prepare for a movement against Longstreet as soon as the season would permit. Foster was soon relieved at his own request, on account of an old wound, and General Schofield, at Grant's request, was appointed in his place. Sherman was sent to Vicksburg, where he organized the celebrated Meridian expedition, and early in February it started. The rebels were driven out of Mississippi, and its whole railroad system was destroyed or deranged so that it was useless to the Confederacy. The army marched four hundred miles in less than a month, fed upon the country, and returned in better condition than when it started. In January Grant obtained permission of the War Department to visit St. Louis, where his son was dangerously sick. He travelled without show or parade, and few, if any, found out who he was. At the hotel, on his arrival, he registered his name as "U.S. Grant, Chattanooga;" but the news of his coming soon spread, and he was tendered a public reception and dinner. His son being much better, he accepted the invitation. His speech at the dinner was a line and a half in length. In the evening he was serenaded, and his speech was two lines and a half in length. He had never made a speech, and never intended to do so. The multitude shouted for a speech. "Tell them you can fight for them, but cannot talk to them--do tell them this," pleaded an earnest friend at his side. "I must get some one else to say that for me," replied the general. Of Grant's "silence," I shall have the honor to speak in another place.