The noble bearing of General Burnside throughout the siege won the admiration of all. In a speech at Cincinnati, a few days after the siege was raised, with that modesty which characterizes the true soldier, he said that the honors bestowed on him belonged to his under officers and the men in the ranks. These kindly words his officers and men will ever cherish; and in all their added years, as they recall the widely separated battle-fields, made forever sacred by the blood of their fallen comrades, and forever glorious by the victories there won, it will be their pride to say, "We fought with Burnside at Campbell's Station and in the trenches at Knoxville." FOOTNOTES: [A] This statement is confirmed by the following extract from Pollard's (Rebel) "Third Year of the War." Speaking of his charge on Fort Sanders, he says: "The force which was to attempt an enterprise which ranks with the most famous charges in military history should be mentioned in detail. It consisted of three brigades of McLaw's division;--that of General Wolford, the Sixteenth, Eighteenth, and Twenty-fourth Georgia Regiments, and Cobb's and Phillip's Georgia Legions; that of General Humphrey, the Thirteenth, Seventeenth, Twenty-first, Twenty-second, and Twenty-third Mississippi Regiments; and a brigade composed of General Anderson's and Bryant's brigades, embracing, among others, the Palmetto State Guard, the Fifteenth South Carolina Regiment, and the Fifty-first, Fifty-third, and Fifty-ninth Georgia Regiments."--pp. 161, 162. RELEASED. A little low-ceiled room. Four walls Whose blank shut out all else of life, And crowded close within their bound A world of pain, and toil, and strife. Her world. Scarce furthermore she knew Of God's great globe, that wondrously Outrolls a glory of green earth, And frames it with the restless sea. Four closer walls of common pine: And therein lieth, cold and still, The weary flesh that long hath borne Its patient mystery of ill. Regardless now of work to do; No queen more careless in her state; Hands crossed in their unbroken calm; For other hands the work may wait. Put by her implements of toil; Put by each coarse, intrusive sign; She made a Sabbath when she died, And round her breathes a Rest Divine. Put by, at last, beneath the lid, The exempted hands, the tranquil face; Uplift her in her dreamless sleep, And bear her gently from the place. Oft she hath gazed, with wistful eyes, Out from that threshold on the night; The narrow bourn she crosseth now; She standeth in the Eternal Light. Oft she hath pressed, with aching feet, Those broken steps that reach the door; Henceforth with angels she shall tread Heaven's golden stair forevermore! FRIEDRICH RUeCKERT.