assembled, properly equipped and ready for duty.

The order was given at eight minutes past ten,—the officers were obliged to equip themselves and to turn out, form and march their men on to the parade; but in less than five minutes the line was formed, with three-fourths of the whole force present. The inspection showed few deficiencies (one man, to be sure, forgot his trousers), and the experiment was quite satisfactory.

We were not without occupation, nor even without our amusements through the long winter. The officers were fully occupied, in the intervals of duty, in bonfing over the tactics. To learn and teach both the infantry and artillery manual, as well as battalion movements, and at the same time to perform the various duties of the post, implied no great amount of leisure,—on the part of the officers at least. But time was found for an occasional evening entertainment, including one or two excellent concerts.

One evening there was a musical soiree in the quarters of Mr. Buell, one of the post staff, and two or three of the prisoners were present by his invitation; among them was Colonel Pegram, of Virginia, who, being invited to sing, complied, and to the surprise of everybody selected the disloyal song, “My Maryland,” which he sang well to his own guitar accompaniment. When he stopped, there ensued for a minute or two an absolute and ominous silence, which was broken by our Captain Draper, who, with his ringing voice, began the patriotic song, “Vive l’America.” The chorus was taken up by all the Union officers present, singing perhaps with more fervor than accuracy:—

At the close of the song Colonel Pegram complimented the singing, and frankly apologized for his discourtesy.

At times the interior of the fort seemed better adapted for use as a skating rink than as a parade-ground. In the worst of such times the dress-parades were omitted, and guard-mounting took place in the casemates; but the marching of the reliefs over glare ice, in a high wind, did not convey the idea of an exact military movement.

One of the men, engaged on a job of repairs, loaded up a light hand-cart with five or six boards, and essayed to push the load before him from the north-west bastion to the opposite side of the fort, while the ice was as smooth as a mirror, and a northwest gale blowing furiously. It was a slow process at the start, but when the team emerged from under the lee of the walls, the gale seized the whole concern, boards, cart, and man, and sent them in detached parties, whirling over the ice field.

Our winter was a new experience to the North Carolina men, and no doubt they have yet great stories to tell of the snow and ice and cold, of a sea-coast everywhere bounded by rocks, and of a country where the woods were not all pines. And no doubt their hearers try to look as though they believed it all, but mutter, possibly, some truisms about soldiers’ stories.

One day in February, 1862, just after the mail-boat had left the fort not to return until the next day, we saw all about us on the main land indications that some joyful incident had occurred. All day long flags were profusely displayed and salutes were fired up and down the coast, and at night the horizon sparkled with fireworks and bonfires. For twenty-four hours we were left to guess at the cause of this rejoicing, but at last we too heard of the capture of Fort Donelson and had our celebration.

We always gave Colonel Dimmock credit for an act of kind thoughtfulness on this occasion. When the news came he remembered that he had an engagement “on shore,” and announced that he should be absent for a day. “Of course,” he said, “you will fire a salute, and I don’t like the sound of great guns.” The fact was, no doubt, that he feared that his presence might be a restraint upon our joviality, and for that reason he took himself away. There had been no talk of anything except the salute, but as he left the fort he turned to the Major and said, in his absent-minded way, “By the by, Major, when the men are allowed a little unusual liberty, unusual discretion is needed on the part of the commanding officer, you know.”

From the time required to prepare for that salute, it was evident that the Alabama might have steamed up the channel and into Boston harbor before we could have brought any guns to bear upon her, but at noon the guns were manned and the salute was fired. While the preparations were in progress, the band-master of the 1st Artillery presented himself at headquarters to ask a favor. The last gun he had fired was the last from Fort Sumter, and he now requested permission to fire the first gun of the salute for the victory. Of course he was allowed to do so, and he was cheered as he went to his station.

The Colonel was very chary of that band and we had never had any benefit from it; but the Post being pro tempore under the command of our Major, they were turned out and made useful. All drills were suspended for the day. The men, in small parties, were allowed to stroll outside the walls. Some luxuries were added to the ration. The band played and the men danced to its music and skylarked generally. At night there was an illumination, masquerading, and singing, and for once tattoo did not sound at the time set down in the orders.

A week later a detachment of prisoners from Fort Donelson was added to our establishment, mostly long, gaunt men, given to wearing sombrero hats, and chewing tobacco. With this party came Generals Buckner and Tilghman.

In February too, the last of the private soldiers, held at the fort as prisoners of war, were sent south to be exchanged. When the transport was ready for the embarkation, four negroes, servants to officers who were about to return home, asked to be allowed to accompany their masters. Colonel Dimmock, becoming satisfied that they preferred to go back to North Carolina, consented to allow them to do so, but took the not unnecessary precaution to have other evidence of the fact that they returned to slavery on their own motion, sending them with his orderly to the Major with the request that he would examine the “boys” and satisfy himself as to whether they went of their own accord—which they certainly did.

As good-weather days became more frequent, our battalion, now of six companies, settled down more regularly to its work. At the request of our commanding officer the full code of discipline, with no abatement because we were volunteers, was the rule by which we were governed, and no one was more surprised at the result than Colonel Dimmock.

With the end of April, 1862, we had fairly drilled through the book, and on the first day of May the battalion was reviewed by Governor Andrew, and exercised in battalion movements in presence of the Governor and a staff which had become critical in military movements. At the close of the parade, Colonel Dimmock, who was not wont to abound in compliments, publicly congratulated the Major as the commander of a body of thoroughly-disciplined soldiers.

The Union armies were now everywhere victorious, and at the North we expected every day to hear that the rebels had come to that “last ditch.” Wearying of the monotony, and in expectation of an early peace, the Major resigned, and on the 2d of May was relieved from duty and returned to his business life. To him the parting was unexpectedly trying, but people cannot