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ships being for the most part out of range of their guns. The official report of the Rebel Major Andrews describes the firing from the fleet as being tremendous. He says: “The shower of shell in half an hour became literally tremendous, as we had falling into and immediately around the works, not less, on an average, than ten each minute; and the sea being smooth, the firing was remarkably accurate. One officer counted twentyeight shells as falling so as to damage us, in one minute, and several others counted twenty in a minute. * For three hours and twenty minutes Fort Hatteras resisted a storm of shells, perhaps more terrible than ever fell upon any other works.

One shell had fallen into the room adjoining the magazine, and the magazine was reported on fire."

Colonel Martin, who was in command at Fort Clark, says of the first day's operations, that Fort Clark was exposed to a “flood of shells,” which poured upon it and the skirts of the adjacent woods for several hours, which “fire was promptly returned, until every charge of powder and every primer was exhausted, when a retreat to Fort Hatteras was ordered."

The troops having all been landed, General Butler took a formal surrender of the forts, with all the men and munitions of war; inspected the troops, to see that all the arms had been properly surrendered, marched them out, and embarked them on board the Adelaide; and march his own troops into the Fort, and raised the United States flag upon it, amid the cheers of the troops and a salute of thirteen guns, which had been shotted by the enemy.

In view of the great strength of Fort Hatteras, and its importance as the key to the Albemarle, General Butler

held a consultation with Flag-Officer Stringham and Commander Stelwagen, when it was determined to hold possession of it.

General Butler thereupon left Colonel Hawkins, with the troops, in charge, and re-embarked the regulars and marines.

The prisoners were also embarked on the Minnesota, and all the necessary arrangements having been made Commodore Stringham, leaving the steamers Monticello and Pawnee inside the channel, in a position to command all approaches to the forts by the Sound, sailed from the inlet on the 30th of August, and arrived at New York Harbor on the 2d of September, where he was greeted with every demonstration of joy.

General Butler sailed on the Adelaide, Commander Stelwagen, with the wounded prisoners for Annapolis, and arrived at Washington city on the 1st of September, where at evening, he was serenaded at the National Hotel by a military band, and when he appeared was greeted with much enthusiam.

The ships of the fleet proceeded, some of them to their blockading stations, others returned to Fortress Monroe and other points, as directed. Thus ended successfully the Hatteras expedition, its results being of the highest importance.

MAJOR-GENERAL IRWIN MCDOWELL, of Ohio, was a graduate of West Point, of the class of 1838. He was twenty-third in a class of forty-five, of which Beauregard was second. He was promoted by brevet for gallantry at Buena Vista. He was in command of the Army of the Potomac at the first battle of Bull Run, of which disaster he made a very candid report.

STORY XXII.

THE FAITHFUL DOG OF SHILOH.

On Shiloh's hot-contested field.
The Rebels were constrained to yield :
Yet solemn truth requires to tell,
There many a Union hero fell.
There new-made mounds of earth disclosed
Where many a gallant one reposed;
And one there was in quiet nook,
That might not, after, be mistook:
'Twas by his faithful comrades made,
And there Lieutenant Pfieff was laid.
For twelve long days since first he fell,
His faithful dog did guard it well.

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From far off Illinoian plains,
His widowed wife sought his remains.
She came :—the faithful dog approached,
To learn what stranger-foot encroached-
Beheld her—and with eager mood,
Entreated her, as best he could,
To follow him without delay,
While he should lead the devious way.
He led, she followed o'er the ground,
Until at length they reached the mound
That he so long had guarded well,
Since that sad day his master fell.
Soon was the imprisoning clay removed,
And soon she clasped the form she loved.
As homeward she that form conveyed,
That faithful dog his best essayed,
At consolation and relief,
By sympathizing in her grief,
Evincing more than tongue could tell,
His sad lament for what befel.

STORY XXIII.

HOW A SCOUT LOST HIS BREECHES.

THE “ Jessie Scouts” will no doubt occupy a page

in the thrilling tales yet to be told.

This company of youthful but hardy, circumspect, and fearless adventurers, was constantly employed for some dangerous duty; and their captain, an agile young fellow named Carpenter, was never better pleased than when engaged in some desperate affair, whether alone or accompanied by some of his men. One of the latter, S. J. Hale, lately returned from an expedition with a very lugubrious countenance, superinduced by the result of an adventure thus narrated:

Mounted on a swift horse, he was carrying dispatches, secreted on his person, to a certain post in this State, (Missouri,) and was somewhere in the vicinity of Waverly. He had ridden some ten miles, and was very disconsolate for want of an adventure, for the boys cannot sit patiently in their saddles if something stirring does not turn up occasionally. He made up his mind to stop the first suspicious looking individual he should meet, and had not long to wait.

An independent Secesh came along on a horse, carry. ing a shot gun and whistling “Dixie." Hale presented his revolver at the fellow and ordered him to dismount, which he did. The scout took possession of horse and gun, and saw the Rebel vanish in the woods. It was after this that the joke occurred which made poor Hale a wiser if not a happier man.

Lost in reverie he rode along, and unconsciously began to whistle Yankee Doodle, but had scarcely gone two bars of the tune, when out sprang from the woods a large and fierce-looking man, who, quick as thought, took a deadly aim at the young adventurer, within a few feet of his breast.

The scout was at his wit's end in a moment, and saw that he could not escape. To draw his revolver would have been madness, so he made no movement, but asked “Who are you?”

The Rebel's answer was, “I may be a ghost, but alive or dead, you can't fool this child; you're a Lincoln horde; come off that horse."

Off came Hale, and into the Rebel's hands soon went his pistols. The poor fellow thought he would now be allowed to go, but he was startled with the hoarse order of the Rebel" Off with them boots!" and off came the boots.

"Off with them pants or die!" said the terrible Secesh, and off came the breeches. It didn't take the Rebel long to exchange his ragged habilaments for the sound ones which he had secured, and mounting his newly acquired horse he said, “Farewell, old codger; you're played out. Your company don't suit, and your suit is gone." A very quaint remark, but painfully true. Poor Hale's only remark was in the language of an old or new play. we don't remember which:

“ Done brown, by heaven !
Let this pernicious hour
Stand accursed in the calendar!
Somebody catch me. I feel very faint.

I'm very sick. Let me go home and die in comfort !” The last thing Hale remembered of the Rebel was hearing him loudly sing:

“In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
Wish

you were in Dixie." Over the subsequent travels of the breechesless young man we delicately throw a veil.

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