explosion, as if nature paused at the awful deed, and then came the earthquake. From Fort Moultrie, Point Pleasant, Fort Johnston, the Floating Battery, Cummings' Point, and Sullivan's Island, the welltrained batteries poured in their concentric fire, till sea, and shore, and heaven shook to the fierce reverberations. A line of volcanoes seemed suddenly to have burst from the sea, and the broad glare from the blazing guns and hurtling shells traversed the air in every direction over the doomed fort, and in fiery network heralded in the day. Anderson and his mere handful of men listened unmoved to the wild hurricane without, till the sun had climbed the heavens. Garrisoned with but seventy-five men, a scanty supply of provisions, and only solid shot, and a small quantity at that, to reply to the enemy's heavy cannonading, the prospects were that starvation would soon have made them strike their flag to the foe; and why so violent an attack should have been made upon the little group, seems to be explained only in the manner with which every horror of warfare was afterwards resorted to. The ponderous balls of the enemy were knocking loudly for admittance, but not a shot was fired in return.

With characteristic firmness and trust, Major Anderson and his little band knelt in prayer, and resolved never to surrender to so vile an assault, committed themselves and the result of the battle to Heaven, and calmly arose to meet their fate. After breakfast, which they finished as leisurely as though preparing for a parade, they were divided into three reliefs, and

the order of fire was given. A sheet of flame now ran along the side of the dark structure, and gun answered to gun in quick succession for the next four hours, like the deafening explosion of thunder among the Alps.

"Forty-seven mortars and large cannon beat upon and burst over the fort incessantly. The heavy explosions called out the inhabitants of Charleston in crowds, and the house-tops and shores were lined with excited spectators, gazing earnestly over the water where the tossing clouds of smoke obscured the sky. Every portion of the fortress was searched by the enemy's fire, and loosened bricks and mortar were flying in every direction. It was impossible to serve the guns en barbette, and they were knocked to pieces one after another by the shot and shell that swept the crest of the ramparts. Anderson was able only to reply with solid shot, and these fell harmlessly upon the enemy's works. The barracks again and again caught fire, and required great energy and daring to put them out. The cartridges of our men were soon exhausted, but they renewed them with their shirtsleeves. Noon came, and the soldiers, snatching a hasty bite of their last hard biscuit and salt pork, went calmly on with their work. During this tremendous cannonading, Major Anderson, hoping still to save his men, turned his eyes anxiously towards the mouth of the harbor where lay our succoring fleet, which dared not run the dark batteries that stretched between them and the fort. Thus the toilsome day wore away, and, as darkness enveloped the scene,

Anderson and his men, being no longer able to observe the effect of their shot, ceased firing and lay down for the night. The enemy, however, did not remit his attack, but all night long his ponderous shot kept smiting the solid walls of the fort. Early on Saturday morning the little garrison were again at work, and gun answered gun in quick response. The barracks for the fourth time took fire, and all attempts to put it out were fruitless; the hot shot of the enemy, dropping incessantly among the combustible material, kept up a sea of flame, and soon the conflagration within was more terrible than the hur ricane of shot without."

The whole garrison was called from the guns to save the magazine, and barrels of powder were rolled through the burning embers to a place of safety. But the heat soon became too great to continue the work, and the magazine was abandoned to await its destiny. The fire now raged uncontrolled, and the smoke, driven downward by the wind, filled all the interior of the fort, so that the men could no longer see each other. Choked by the stifling air, they flung themselves on the ground, and throwing wet kerchiefs and cloaks over their faces, lay and gasped for breath. The last biscuit had been eaten the day before. The walls were crumbling around them; the main gate had been burned down, leaving an open passage to an advancing force, and it was more apparent than ever that the contest was utterly hopeless. Still, the noble commander, unmoved amid the wreck, refused to strike his colors. The magazine, expected momenta

rily to explode, could not be reached, and the cartridges were nearly exhausted, yet a feeble shot was occasionally fired to let the fleet outside and the enemy know they had not surrendered. The shells and ammunition in the upper service magazine now caught fire and exploded with a fearful crash, sending splintered beams and blazing fragments in every direction, adding tenfold to the terror of the conflagration that lashed its heavy flames around every part of the inclosure. Thus hour after hour the men worked with wet cloaks over their mouths.

At length the fire approached the men's quarters where the barrels of powder that had been taken from the magazine lay exposed. The soldiers rushed through the flames with wet blankets and covered them over, but the heat became so intense that it was feared they would take fire and blow up the fort, and they were rolled from the embrasures into the sea. There were but three left, and only three cartridges now in the guns. At this crisis the flag-staff was shot away; but the flag was brought in, and by order of Major Anderson again nailed to the flag-staff, which was replaced on the ramparts, and continued to wave defiantly. Their courage, daring, and invincible energy, in the very jaws of death, was a sight to move any thing human. A few moments after this fearful crisis, a man was seen coming from the enemy with a white flag tied on his sword. It proved to be Wigfall, late Senator from Texas, who, moved by the spectacle before him, came, and, upon his own responsibility, offered terms of capitulation. "Thus

fell Fort Sumter, the opening act of the most fearful tragedy the world has ever seen."

The people of Charleston and the South, mistaking the real nature and swift results of this fearful act of violence, were wild with joy. But, alas! though they had succeeded in firing the train, and bathed in its flickering light, they unconsciously danced upon a magazine, the explosion of which would shake the civilized world.

The unexpected unanimity and energy of the North soon convinced the South that no alternative now remained save to fight. The attempt to force new compromises and concessions ended when the first fatal gun thundered against the Federal fortress, and put the subject forever beyond argument. The era of diplomacy was ended, and the epoch of action was inaugurated.

I must be permitted here to say a word of Stephen A. Douglas, Mr. Lincoln's great antagonist. He was an old and influential Democrat, whose eloquence had won a world-wide reputation, and who, through the fascinations of his oratory, had become a great favorite with the senators, legislators, and statesmen of our country. When the war came, he called upon Mr. Lincoln and told him of his determination to coerce the rebellion, and he came immediately to Illinois and began to address large audiences upon the necessity of sustaining the Union at all hazards. Thus he won over disaffected localities, and is said to have carried the Illinois State Legislature with him. War! war! war! was now the cry all over the land.

Mr. Doug