There were, history informs us, on the average, _one hundred and twenty heavy guns a minute_. The scene was grand and awful. The bonfires were kept blazing. The _Henry Clay_ burned to the water’s edge, the tongues of flame leaping above the track of shot and shell. Shells were flying in every direction; with their burning fuses they made their circles, dropping down out of the sky like stars of the first magnitude, now and then some bursting in mid-heaven with a million scintillations of light. All the officers had gone to the upper deck; and Mrs. Grant and I stood together, out on the guards, looking out on the grand and awful scene before us, shivering with agony. We were neither of us alarmed for our own safety, but were overwhelmed with anxiety for the safety of our brave soldiers, and the success of the expedition. Mrs. Grant was very sympathetic and kindly hearted, and stood there looking out upon the grand and terrible scenes of war through her tears. She was a most devoted wife and mother, and, like her noble, generous-hearted husband, was most heartily interested for the safety and welfare of the brave men who were fighting the battles of her country. “Our men are all dead men.” “No one can live in such a rain of fire and lead,” we said to each other. “All our fleet, and the heroic men who manned the boats, are surely swallowed in that fiery channel,” we moaned with the tears on our faces. Only once, it was while the _Henry Clay_ was burning, we saw for a moment or two the grand old Stars and Stripes. “See! see! there is our flag,” was the glad exclamation; but the next moment it was hid from our sight by the smoke of the guns. We stood there, amid the thunders of this greatest artillery duel that was ever fought in the world, for two long hours, unconscious of danger or weariness. Then General Grant came down from the upper deck with the glad news, for he had been watching for the signals or rockets that the boats, one by one, sent up as they got safely through, that all the boats were through but the _Henry Clay_. The roar of the cannon had begun to die away, when our captain, at the command of General Grant, turned the prow of his boat up the Mississippi River, and steamed back to Milliken’s Bend. We reached there at daylight, after the most exciting night I had ever known, or perhaps will ever know again, on the earth. FOOTNOTE: [1] He made the journey safely, and continued to command his boat while she was in the United States service, which was till the close of the war. He was one of the few loyal steamboat captains on the Mississippi River. He lived to enjoy a long season of peace, dying in 1893. I HAVE THE COMFORTER. In 1862, just after the terrible battle at Corinth, Miss., I visited the hospitals in that place. The havoc had been fearful on both sides, and the wounded of the two armies crowded every ward.