When she was able to sit up the question of clothing became an important one. The surgeon said, “She must have women’s clothes to put on.” We women from the North, by gift and by purchase, provided the necessary outfit for a woman’s wardrobe. To raise some funds for her we had her photograph taken, first in the uniform of a private soldier, and then dressed as a woman. She sold them to soldiers and visitors for twenty-five cents each, and raised considerable money. I have the two I purchased, which I have treasured in my war album all these years. She was stout and muscular, with heavy features, high cheek bones, and her black abundant hair was cut very close. She was perhaps twenty-six or twenty-eight years old, but when in her military rig looked like a beardless boy. The time came at last when she must be dismissed from the hospital; and I was commissioned by the officers to find out all I could about her, and where she lived, as she had been more friendly to me than to the others. The interview was a long one. I can give only the main points. “The time has come,” I said, “when you must be sent out of the hospital. Where do you wish to go?” “I’ll stay in Nashville,” she answered. “But you can’t stay in Nashville. This city is within the military lines, and no one can come in, stay here, or go out of this town, without a pass. You have come into these lines in disguise as a soldier, but you are now known. So if you will not go willingly, you will be sent out in charge of a provost marshal. That is, you will be taken under arrest by the government officers to Louisville, and left there. Then what will you do? You are not strong enough to do hard work, and I doubt if you could get any work there to do.” “I’m awfully sorry I can’t go back into the army.” “You certainly cannot, the case is too well known; and recruiting officers have been warned, and will be on the lookout hereafter. If you will give your name and place of residence, the government will send you home, and the trip will not cost you anything.” “If I tell you my name, and the place I wish to go to, will you keep it a secret?” “I will be obliged to tell the officers.” “Will you ask them not to publish it?” “I certainly will; and I will never tell it to any one, except the officers from whom I will get the order for pass and transportation.” “I will trust you,” she said; and she whispered her name and residence. Two days after that she was on her way to her home in the Northwest. I never knew what became of her. BRAVING DANGERS. In December, 1862, General W. T. Sherman gathered his forces at the landing at Helena, Ark., and on the 21st of the month the great fleet, with flags flying, moved down the Mississippi River. A very strict order had been issued by him against any citizen or reporter accompanying the expedition; and severe penalties were threatened in case the order should be disobeyed.