October 23d, General Grant reached Chattanooga, Wrote a Union soldier of the sad condition of things there:

"I confess I do not see any very brilliant prospects for continuing alive in it all this winter, unless something desperate be done. While the army sits here, hungry, chilly, watching the 'key to Tennessee,' the 'good dog' Bragg lies over against us, licking his Chickamauga sores without whine or growl. He will not reply to our occasional shots from Star Fort, Fort Crittenden, or the Moccasin Point batteries across the river; has forbidden the exchange of newspapers and the compliments of the day between pickets; has returned surly answers to flag-oftruce messages; in fact, has cut us dead.

"The mortality among the horses and mules is frightful to contemplate. Their corpses line the road, and taint the air, all along the Bridgeport route. In these days, hereabouts, it is within the scope of the most obtuse to distinguish a quartermaster or staff officer, by a casual glance at the animal he strides. 'He has the fatness of twenty horses upon his ribs,' as Squeers remarked of little Wackford; and so he has. God help the others.'

"I am assured this state of things will not last long; that hordes of men are energetically at work improving our means of communication, and that we soon shall be benefited by the overflowing plenty of the North. The vigor and good spirits of the army, all this time, are de veloped in a most astonishing manner.

Major-General Grant, who presides over the destinies of this, among other armies, reached Chattanooga to-day." That state of things did not last long. The great trouble was, to get supplies. The valley route of travel lay under the guns of Lookout Mountain. So the poor horses and mules had to drag the heavy wagons among the mountains, through mud and over Alpine ridges, by slow and exhausting stages.

General Grant, soon after his arrival, was riding with Quartermaster-General Meigs along the highways, bordered with carcasses and skeletons, when they passed the decaying body of a gigantic mule. "Ah, General," said Grant, with affected sadness, "there lies a dead soldier of the Quartermaster's Department." "Yes, General," responded Meigs, with equal gravity; "in him you see 'the ruling passion strong in death' exemplified; for the old veteran has already assumed the offensive."

Thus, like moonlight across black storm-clouds, breaks the humor and wit of great minds upon the grim aspect of war.

Generals Hooker and Smith were sent to cut a way through Lookout Valley to meet an expedition which started at midnight, October 26th, near Bridgeport, Ala. in fifty-six boats. Only a few officers knew the destination. What a sail was that! The moon, over whose face drift occasional clouds, shines down on the Tennessee. The boats move a few miles, and reach the enemy's lines. Then comes old Lookout, its rough sides

ablaze with hostile signal torches, and crowned with bat teries. To get past and join the other forces, and clear a path for supplies, is the perilous voyage before them. Oars are dropped, and the fourteen hundred men, holding breath in suspense, keep their pontoons close to the banks. Slowly the spectres float under the mountain s deep shadow. No sound but a rebel picket's snatch of song from the summit ready to pour down lightning and iron hail, is heard in the awful solitude. The moments seem hours. And now the silent flotilla emerges into moonbeams, and the brave fellows draw a long breath of relief. The passage is made. Landing, under the gallant Hazen and Geary, they fight their way along, and, making a junction with Hooker and Smith, at the base of Lookout, the Bridgeport route is cleared of rebel rule. The famine is soon relieved, and affairs at Chattanooga wear a brighter aspect.

About this time, Jeff. Davis, it is said, visited the fortress on the lofty summit, which seemed to defy attack. His vulture eye swept the circle of the magnificent view, covering a part of four States. And we may believe, with something like the exultation of Satan when he showed the Messiah the kingdoms of the earth, he remarked to General Pemberton, when his gaze came back to General Grant's army, in the distance, working on the fortifications:

“I have them now in just the trap I set for them."
Pemberton turned to Jeff. Davis, and replied:

"Mr. Davis, you are Commander-in-Chief, and you are here. You think the enemy are in a trap, and can be captured by vigorous assault. I have been blamed for not having ordered a general attack on the enemy when they were drawing around me their lines of circumvallation at Vicksburg. Do you now order an attack upon those troops down there below us, and I will set you my life that not one man of the attacking column will ever come back across that valley, except as a prisoner."

CHAPTER XIX.

Preparations for Battle again-The successful Trap-The brave Advance of General Wood-The Contest opened-The Three Days' Fight-General Hooker above the Clouds-General Grant's Despatch-General Bragg's-General Meigs's Despatch-General Grant at the Coffin of Colonel O'Meara.

HE Chief began in quiet earnest to prepare for
an attack on Chattanooga.
Drill and parade
were frequent in front of our fortifications, and
within full view of the enemy. General Grant,

not yet perfectly well, was daily seen walking "to and fro up the streets of the town, unattended, many times unobserved, but at all times observing." To stop raids and personal violence, he issued an order to hold secessionists responsible for injury done, imprisoning hostages when our people were injured, and taking property in return for losses in our lines.

In vain General Longstreet tred to swing around the rear of the Union army east of Chattanooga, and move on Knoxville, Tenn., before the noble Burnside was at hand, and ready to set the trap. General Grant had made