demonstration against Charleston; he conquered it, in the words of General Robert Anderson, "by turning his back on it!" His military operations compelled the evacuation of the city, which was occupied by the Union troops on the eighteenth of February, 1865. Lieutenant-Colonel A.G. Bennett, of the Twenty-first United States colored troops, was the first to land with a small force, while some of the rebel mounted patrols still remained, applying the torch as they retreated. The Colonel at once addressed himself to the Mayor: "In the name of the United States government I demand a surrender of the city, of which you are the executive officer." The Mayor responded by immediately turning over the Cradle of Rebellion to its rightful owners. The Colonel then proceeded to the citadel with his colored troops, two companies of the Fifty-second Pennsylvania Regiment, and about thirty men of the Third Rhode Island Heavy Artillery, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ames, and proclaimed martial law. In his official report he says: "Every officer and soldier exerted himself to a most willing performance of every allotted duty, yet I do not deem it invidious for me to make special mention of Lieutenant John Hackett, Company M, Third Rhode Island Artillery, who volunteered to go alone to Fort Moultrie, and there raised the flag." This was a most perilous service, gallantly performed amid the danger of exploding rebel powder magazines.

It was the beginning of the end. President Lincoln, realizing that the fall of the Confederacy was near at hand, determined to celebrate the fourth anniversary of the surrender of Fort Sumter by replanting the old flag of 1861, with imposing ceremonies, upon the ruins of the fort, and the following order was accordingly issued:

The steamer "Arago" was officially commissioned to carry to the fort those who were to take part in the exercises, and the gratifying announcement was afterwards received in Providence that a second steamer had been chartered, the "Oceanus," of our Neptune Propeller Line, to sail from New York for Charleston, on Monday, April 10th, at noon. Immediately, three Providence boys, two of us comrades in the Tenth Rhode Island Regiment, fired with the news just received of the fall of Richmond, made our plans for going to Charleston on the "Oceanus." We so well succeeded that on the morning of the tenth we made our appearance on the deck of the steamer, duly armed and equipped with the necessary papers and outfit.

There was great enthusiasm on board over the news from the seat of war, not only on account of the recent capture of Richmond and Petersburg, but because, during the night, the news had flashed over the wires of the surrender of Lee and the death of the Rebellion. We thus became the bearers of these glorious tidings to Fort Sumter and Charleston.

My reception of the news in New York is thus described in my diary: "Monday, April 10, Astor House. On coming down from my room this morning, my attention was arrested by the 'big letters' at the head of the column of the morning paper, bearing the announcement of the surrender of General Lee and his whole army. It was pretty big news to take in, and contain myself. Passing into the hotel parlors, I noticed that Broadway was gaily decorated with flags (though the rain was descending in torrents), and there read in the Herald the official documents from General Grant, upon which I could hardly refrain from shouting three cheers! I believe I did give one! While waiting for breakfast I ventured, in the enthusiasm of the moment, to seat myself at the piano, and was hard at work on about the only patriotic tune I could drum, viz: 'Tenting on the old camp ground,' when a small boy came up with a message from some nice looking young ladies at the opposite end of the parlor, requesting 'The Star Spangled Banner,' in honor of the glorious news. Well, I didn't exactly fall under the piano; but briefly conveying regrets at my inability to comply, I retired as gracefully as possible."

Promptly at noon we waved our adieus from the deck of the "Oceanus" to the friends assembled on shore, and steamed slowly down the harbor. The weather was extremely rainy and foggy, and when hardly three hours out, we found ourselves aground on Sandy Hook bar. A pilot was signaled, who brought the report of a heavy storm outside, and after getting us safely off the sand-spit, he advised our "laying to" till morning. This was a great disappointment, as there was no time to lose, and some one impatiently asked, "Can't you take us out this afternoon, pilot?" "I reckon I can if you all say so," responded the old salt, "but you'd better lay here, to-night!" "Why so, pilot?" "You gentlemen want to go to Charleston, don't you?" "Why, yes, of course." "Wall, then, I tell you, you'd better lay here to-night, for it's goin' to be a werry nasty, dirty night outside." That settled the matter, and down went the big anchor of the "Oceanus."

Having eaten but sparingly during the day to avoid sea-sickness, and fully believing that we were firmly anchored for the night, I indulged in a hearty supper, concluding, as my diary says, "with sardines and oranges." I had occasion to feel very sorry for this a few hours later.

A patriotic meeting was held in the cabin during the evening. The music and addresses were very enjoyable, till suddenly the sound of hurrying feet was heard overhead, and the news was whispered round that we were "weighing anchor." Soon we began to feel the uncomfortable rolling of the steamer. The orator who was then addressing the meeting, and who had waxed eloquent with his subject, now provoked considerable merriment by his ungraceful and involuntary gestures, clutching desperately at a chair, then taking a fresh hold of the table to steady himself. It well illustrated Demosthenes' famous rule for