ived from
Thomas, saying, "We will hold the town till we starve." I appreciated
the force of this dispatch later when I witnessed the condition of
affairs which prompted it. It looked, indeed, as if but two courses
were open: one to starve, the other to surrender or be captured.

On the morning of the 20th of October I started, with my staff, and
proceeded as far as Nashville. At that time it was not prudent to
travel beyond that point by night, so I remained in Nashville until the
next morning. Here I met for the first time Andrew Johnson, Military
Governor of Tennessee. He delivered a speech of welcome. His composure
showed that it was by no means his maiden effort. It was long, and I
was in torture while he was delivering it, fearing something would be
expected from me in response. I was relieved, however, the people
assembled having apparently heard enough. At all events they commenced
a general hand-shaking, which, although trying where there is so much of
it, was a great relief to me in this emergency.

From Nashville I telegraphed to Burnside, who was then at Knoxville,
that important points in his department ought to be fortified, so that
they could be held with the least number of men; to Admiral Porter at
Cairo, that Sherman's advance had passed Eastport, Mississippi, that
rations were probably on their way from St. Louis by boat for supplying
his army, and requesting him to send a gunboat to convoy them; and to
Thomas, suggesting that large parties should be put at work on the
wagon-road then in use back to Bridgeport.

On the morning of the 21st we took the train for the front, reaching
Stevenson Alabama, after dark. Rosecrans was there on his way north.
He came into my car and we held a brief interview, in which he described
very clearly the situation at Chattanooga, and made some excellent
suggestions as to what should be done. My only wonder was that he had
not carried them out. We then proceeded to Bridgeport, where we stopped
for the night. From here we took horses and made our way by Jasper and
over Waldron's Ridge to Chattanooga. There had been much rain, and the
roads were almost impassable from mud, knee-deep in places, and from
wash-outs on the mountain sides. I had been on crutches since the time
of my fall in New Orleans, and had to be carried over places where it
was not safe to cross on horseback. The roads were strewn with the
debris of broken wagons and the carcasses of thou