A shell from one of the forts explodes in the boiler of the Itasca, and The Winona is driven back, her decks

she drifts back below the hulk.

slippery with the blood of her crew.

What a scene it is! Lurid flames, burning rafts, the flashing of three hundred guns, a storm of shells raining upon Fort Jackson, the air thick with solid shot, grape and canister, vessels rushing upon each other, black clouds of smoke rolling up from pitchwood smeared with tar, white clouds belching from the cannon's mouths!

Daylight is dawning-the uproar dying away. The Confederate fleet is destroyed. Some of the vessels have disappeared, like the Varuna, beneath the swirling waters; others are shattered wrecks drifting seaward. The Manassas is all aflame; the powder left in her magazine explodes, and she disappears forever.

Never before was there such consternation in New Orleans. Men lose their senses. At the levee is a great fleet of steamers loaded with cotton. In an instant they are ablaze-the people setting them on fire, cutting the cables, and sending them adrift in the stream. People run hither and thither, not knowing what to do or where to go. In an hour property worth millions of dollars is licked up by the flames.

Up the river steam the vessels, the Cayuga in advance. Three miles below the city the Confederates have erected a battery of twenty heavy guns, which open upon her, but the Hartford, Pensacola, and Brooklyn open with their broadsides such a stream that the Confederates flee in terror, and the vessels steam on, dropping anchor in front of the city at one o'clock in the afternoon of April 25th. On the ships the sailors swing their caps and hurrah. On the shore is a crowd of people cursing and swearing in impotent rage.

"Burn the city!" shout the ragamuffins, who have nothing to lose.

"Shoot the coward who commanded the forts!" they cry, not knowing how gallantly the Confederates in the forts had fought, nor that the Confederate flag is still flying above them.

But they could not hold them. The garrisons began to desert, and they were surrendered to General Butler, who took possession of New Orleans on the 1st of May.

In the battle the loss on the ships was forty killed and one hundred and seventy-seven wounded.

Let us see what has been accomplished in the Mississippi Valley. The first victory was at Fort Henry; the second, Fort Donelson. Then came the evacuation of Bowling Green and Nashville, the battle of Pittsburg

Landing, the taking of Island No. 10, the opening of the rivers down to Fort Pillow, fifty miles above Memphis. New Orleans has been taken, and the fleet of Admiral Farragut is at Vicksburg.

We come to the last week in May. Since the battle of Pittsburg Landing General Halleck has been gathering an army of nearly one hundred thousand men to advance upon Corinth. Beauregard has about half as many. He is exceedingly cautious, builds long lines of intrenchments, then advances a mile and builds another long line-sets the soldiers to work digging wells to supply the troops with water. He supposed that he would be compelled to besiege Corinth, and brought forward heavy guns and erected batteries. On the 28th of May he opened fire. But there were no Confederates at Corinth; they had marched silently away to Tupelo, fifty-two miles south of Corinth.

General Halleck was greatly surprised and chagrined, for he had lost an opportunity to strike a blow.

Fort Pillow, forty miles above Memphis, was no longer of any account, for the Union army could take it from the rear. The Confederates, therefore, spiked the guns, burned their barracks and what supplies they could not take away; and the Confederate gunboats went down the river to Memphis, where several of the boats had been built.

Commodore Montgomery commanded the fleet. He had eight vessels. They were: General Beauregard, four guns; Little Rebel, two; General Price, four; Sumter, three; General Lovell, four; Thompson, four; General Bragg, three; and General Van Dorn, four-total, twenty-eight guns.

Fort Pillow evacuated! It was astounding news to the people of Memphis. They learned it at noon, June 5th. The merchants closed their stores. Some of them began to pack their goods. Some of the citizens jumped on board the cars and fled from the city.

The Confederate fleet made its appearance.

"I shall retreat no farther," said Commodore Montgomery; "I shall fight a battle in front of the city, and to-morrow morning you will see Lincoln's gunboats sent to the bottom."

The dawn is breaking when I step from the Benton, the flag-ship of Commodore Davis, to the tugboat Jessie Benton. It is a bright summer morning. The woods are resonant with the song of birds, the air balmy. Light fleecy clouds, fringed with gold, float along the eastern horizon. The Union fleet is at anchor three miles above the city.

Drop down below the city and see if you can discover the Confederate fleet," is the order to the captain of the Jessie Benton.

We sweep around the majestic bend of the river and behold the city. The first rays of the sun are gilding the spires of the churches. A crowd of people is upon the levee-men, women, and children-who have come out to see the Union fleet sent to the bottom.

The Jessie Benton is a swift little craft, tender to the fleet to carry orders. As I stand upon the deck I can see all that is going on. Suddenly a vessel with a black cloud of smoke rolling from the chimneys shoots into the stream. It is the Little Rebel, Commodore Montgomery's flag-ship. One by one the other vessels follow, forming in two lines of battle.

In the front line, nearest the city, is the Beauregard, next the Little Rebel, then the Price and Sumter. In the second line, behind the Beauregard, is the Lovell, then the Thompson, Bragg, and Van Dorn.

The Confederate cannon are rifled, and of long range. They are pivoted, and can be pointed in all directions. The boilers of the vessels are protected by iron plates. Slowly they begin to move up stream, and the Jessie Benton turns her prow to the current, and we steam back to the fleet.

The boatswains are piping all hands to quarter. The sailors are throwing open the ports, running out the guns, placing shot and shell on deck, taking down rammers and sponges, and distributing cutlasses.

"Let the men have their breakfast," is the order from the flag-ship. Admiral Davis believes that the men will fight best on full stomachs. They eat the rations of beef and bread and drink their steaming coffee while standing beside the guns.

There are five gunboats in the Union fleet. The Benton is nearest the Tennessee shore, then the Carondelet, Louisville, St. Louis, and Cairo. There are also two rams-the Queen City and Monarch. The rams are river steamers, with thick oak sides; they carry no cannon, but on each boat are one hundred riflemen.

"Round to; head down stream; keep in line with the flag-ship," was the order which we on board the Jessie Benton carried to each boat of the line; then returned and took our position between the Benton and Carondelet.

I am on the top of the tug, beside the pilot-house. The sun is an hour high, and its bright rays lie in a broad line of golden light upon the eddying stream. Look down the river to the city and behold the house-tops, the windows, the levee crowded with men, women, and children. The flag of the Confederacy floats defiantly. The fleet is moving slowly towards us. A dense cloud of smoke rolls up from the chimneys of the steamers and floats over the city.