His camp was a short distance off the Monterey road, in the
woods, and consisted of four or five tents, with a sapling railing
around the front. As I rode up, Majors Rawlins, Lagow, and Hilyer,
were in front of the camp, and piled up near them were the usual
office and camp chests, all ready for a start in the morning. I
inquired for the general, and was shown to his tent, where I found
him seated on a camp-stool, with papers on a rude camp-table; he
seemed to be employed in assorting letters, and tying them up with
red tape into convenient bundles. After passing the usual
compliments, I inquired if it were true that he was going away. He
said, "Yes." I then inquired the reason, and he said "Sherman, you
know. You know that I am in the way here. I have stood it as long
as I can, and can endure it no longer." I inquired where he was
going to, and he said, "St. Louis." I then asked if he had any
business there, and he said, "Not a bit." I then begged him to
stay, illustrating his case by my own.
Before the battle of Shiloh, I had been cast down by a mere
newspaper assertion of "crazy;" but that single battle had given me
new life, and now I was in high feather; and I argued with him
that, if he went away, events would go right along, and he would be
left out; whereas, if he remained, some happy accident might
restore him to favor and his true place.
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