The General simply said, “Take this lady to Mound City, and remain till she is ready to return. Wait for the Medical Director, and till I leave the boat.” So I was for a little space of time the commander of the biggest steamer on the Mississippi River. As I walked the length of that great boat, so rich and gaudy in tinsel and curtains and furniture, the patriotic blood coursed hotly through my veins. Why this extravagance? Why this pomp and display? And when the medical director, who was supposed to be in charge of all of the sick and dying in that great army, came in full military dress, with gloves and sash and sword and spurs, my heart sank down to zero. But I was not long in reaching the truth, and changing my mind. A dozen boats or more had just been impressed into the United States service, and lay there at the wharf with steam up. They had not yet been dismantled; and it was the kindly, proper thing to do to send me to Mound City, and it was military etiquette for the medical director to dress as he did. I was afterwards on the same boat many times; once after Sherman’s defeat at Yazoo, when there were seven hundred and fifty wounded and sick soldiers on board. General Grant was just gathering these boats, and these forces, that he might move on Fort Donelson. WE HONOR OUR GRAND OLD HEROES. BY ANNIE WITTENMYER. We honor our grand old heroes Who stood in the thick of the fight, Where deadly missiles were flying, And valiantly fought for the right. They stood with God in the conflict, They fought on God’s side in the fray; The Lord and his angels helped them, And Freedom and Right won the day. Sacred to Freedom forever Is the soil where they fought and bled; No bondsman shall wear a shackle, No tyrant shall lift up his head. Above the flags of all nations Our beautiful banner floats high; Its stars like the stars of heaven, And its blue as blue as the sky. Long may it wave in its beauty, The symbol of Freedom and Right; Not a star be lost from its azure, Not a blot stain its spotless white! A BOY SENT BY EXPRESS, C. O. D. In the winter of 1862, just before General Grant moved upon Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, I went out to Sedalia, Mo., with a heavy lot of supplies. Sedalia is 188 miles south-west of St. Louis, and was an important military station at that time. The people in that section were very disloyal and belligerent. The train on which I journeyed was fired into three times the day I made the journey, by “bushwhackers,” men who carried on an irregular warfare.