SPRING NOTES FROM TENNESSEE. 



AN IDLER ON MISSIONARY RIDGE. 



I BEACHED Chattanooga on the evening 

 of April 26th, in the midst of a rattling 

 thunder-shower, — which, to look back upon 

 it, seems to have been prophetic, — and the 

 next morning, after an early breakfast, 

 took an electric car for Missionary Ridge. 

 Among my fellow - passengers were four 

 Louisiana veterans fresh from their annual 

 reunion at Birmingham, where, doubtless, 

 their hearts had been kindled by much fer- 

 vent oratory, as well as by much private 

 talk of those bygone days when they did 

 everything but die for the cause they loved. 

 As the car mounted the Ridge, one of them 

 called his companions' attention to a place 

 down the valley where " the Rebels and the 

 Yankees " (his own words) used to meet to 

 play cards. " A regular gambling-hole," 

 he called it. Their boys brought back lots 



