cleaner and really felt better, from the skill and industry of a few devoted women.  A pleasant instance of the restraint of woman’s presence upon the roughest natures occurred in the hospital I was attending.  A stalwart backwoodsman was suffering from a broken arm, and had been venting his spleen upon the doctors and male nurses by continued profanity; but when one of his fellow-sufferers uttered an oath, while the “Sisters” were near ministering to the comfort of the wounded, he sharply reproved him, demanding—­“Have you no more manners than to swear in the presence of ladies?” All honor to these devoted Sisters, who, fearless of danger and disease, sacrificed every personal comfort to alleviate the sufferings of the sick and wounded after this terrible battle.

An instance of most heroic endurance, if not of fool-hardy stoicism, such as has few parallels in history, occurred during the contest, which deserves mention.  Brigadier-general Gladden, of South Carolina, who was in General Bragg’s command, had his left arm shattered by a ball, on the first day of the fight.  Amputation was performed hastily by his staff-surgeon on the field; and then, instead of being taken to the rear for quiet and nursing, he mounted his horse, against the most earnest remonstrances of all his staff, and continued to command.  On Monday, he was again in the saddle, and kept it during the day; on Tuesday, he rode on horseback to Corinth, twenty miles from the scene of action, and continued to discharge the duties of an officer.  On Wednesday, a second amputation, near the shoulder, was necessary, when General Bragg sent an aid to ask if he would not be relieved of his command.  To which he replied, “Give General Bragg my compliments, and say that General Gladden will only give up his command to go into his coffin.”  Against the remonstrances of personal friends, and the positive injunctions of the surgeons, he persisted in sitting up in his chair, receiving dispatches and giving directions, till Wednesday afternoon, when lockjaw seized him, and he died in a few moments.  A sad end was this, for a man possessing many of the noblest and most exalted characteristics.

Two days thereafter, on the 11th of April, there was perpetrated one of the most diabolical murders ever sanctioned by the forms of law.  It illustrates the atrocious wickedness of the rebellion, and the peril of sympathy with the Union cause in the South.  Patriotism here wins applause, there a culprit’s doom.  The facts were these:  When the Rebels were raising a force in Eastern Tennessee, two brothers by the name of Rowland volunteered; a younger brother, William H. Rowland, was a Union man, and refusing to enlist was seized and forced into the army.  He constantly protested against his impressment, but without avail.  He then warned them that he would desert the first opportunity, as he would not fight against the cause of right and good government.  They were inexorable, and he was torn from his family and hurried to the field.  At the battle of Fort Donelson, Rowland escaped from his captors in the second day’s action, and immediately joined the loyal army.  Though now, to fight against his own brothers, he felt that he was in a righteous cause, and contending for a worthy end.