We descended the Mississippi to the narrow point where the Ohio joins it, and on which are the fortifications of Cairo. At Cairo there were no boats, save those of the government, conveying troops, and on one of these we went. It was the McGill, and on board was the regiment which was to lead the assault at Fort Donelson, the Second Iowa. Up to the time of starting we supposed that the destination of the boat was Fort Henry, on the Tennessee. It was then announced, Fort Donelson on the Cumberland. We glided slowly up the Ohio, against its swollen current, and passed the mouth of the Tennessee during the night. I arose with the first gleam of light, and went on deck to find that we had entered the Cumberland. It seemed a narrow river, winding amid wooded hills and banks covered with noble oaks. The soldiers, who had passed the warm, moonlit night on deck, were rising, one by one, folding blankets and packing knapsacks. I turned from them to the river, and looked curiously for the people who dwelt in this, the rebel part of Kentucky. For a short time there was nothing but woods. Then a little log house appeared upon the bank, a shed beside it, with its single horse and cow. It was a humble home, and hardly worth a second glance, a hundred such might be seen on the banks of any river; but in front of the door stood a sturdy little flag-staff, and from it waved the stars and stripes. The family had risen at the sound of the steamer. The mother stood in the doorway, holding an infant, and waving an apron. A little girl near by timidly tossed her hood around her head. Two ragged boys at the water's edge swung their caps joyfully. The father stood on a stump, hurrahing alone but lustily; and over them, in the dim grey light, fluttered their little flag. "They mean it," "They are honest," "There's no make-believe there," were the exclamations of the soldiers, as they crowded to the side of the boat and answered the father and his boys with their louder cheers. This was the first house we saw, and the warmest welcome we received; for though many hats were waved to us during the day, and a few flags shown, none equalled, in their manifest sincerity, the inmates of the little log house. The day was soft and beautiful. We passed it upon the upper deck, laughing, chatting, and watching the shifting scenery of the winding river. A pleasure excursion it seemed to all; and again and again some one would remark, "We may be on the brink of battle, yet it seems as though we were travelling for pleasure."