handsomely trimmed with evergreens and myrtle. On the stage beside the speakers' stand, was a golden eagle, resting upon a shield of the national colors, and holding in his beak a wreath of flowers and evergreen.

Descending to the interior of the fort, we passed from the foot of the wall-steps to the platform through a double file of navy boys, in trimmest holiday attire. Here were now assembled the great audience of five thousand soldiers, sailors and citizens, and we joined them in the stirring song of "Victory at Last," composed for the occasion by William B. Bradbury, who was present and led the singing. Then followed the old battle song:

"Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,
Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom."

The formal exercises were opened with prayer by the Rev. Matthias Harris, Chaplain United States Army, a venerable man, who had made the prayer at the raising of the flag on Fort Sumter, in December, 1860, when Major Anderson removed his command from Fort Moultrie. It was a brief but touching invocation for the blessing of God upon the flag of the nation, and upon the great occasion. The Rev. R.S. Storrs, D.D., of Brooklyn, N.Y., then read with the audience, alternately, the one hundred and twenty-sixth, forty-seventh, ninety-eighth, and a part of the twentieth Psalms.

Major Anderson's dispatch to the Government, April 18, 1861, on steamship "Baltic," off Sandy Hook, announcing the fall of Fort Sumter, was then read by Brigadier-General E.D. Townshend, Assistant Adjutant-General United States Army.

Then came the crowning event of the day, the "raising and planting upon the ruins of Fort Sumter of the same United States flag which floated over the battlements of the fort during the rebel assault, April 14, 1861, by Brevet Major-General Robert Anderson, United States Army."

Promptly upon the reading of the dispatch, Sergeant Hart (who had gallantly replaced the flag after it had been shot away in the first assault) stepped forward with the Fort Sumter mail-bag in his hand. As he quietly drew forth from its long seclusion the same old flag of '61, a wild shout went up, "prolonged and loud." It was quickly attached to the halyards by three sailors from the fleet, who were in the first fight, and crowned with a wreath of evergreen, set with clusters of rosebuds and orange blossoms.

All was now ready, and the hour, the moment, for which the nation had so long earnestly struggled and patiently waited, had come at last!

"Though the mills of God grind slowly,
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience He stands waiting,
With exactness grinds He all!"

Who of us can ever forget that memorable hour, or the deep and silent expectation of the great assembly, as General Robert Anderson, the hero of the day, stepped forward, and with uncovered head and a voice trembling with emotion, said:

"I am here, my friends, my fellow-citizens and fellow-soldiers, to perform an act of duty to my country, dear to my heart, and which all of you will appreciate and feel. Had I observed the wishes of my heart, it should have been done in silence; but in accordance with the request of the Honorable Secretary of War, I make a few remarks, as by his order, after four long, long years of war, I restore to its proper place this dear flag, which floated here during peace, before the first act of this cruel rebellion. [Taking the halyards in his hands, he said:] I thank God that I have lived to see this day, and to be here, to perform this, perhaps the last act of my life, of duty to my country. My heart is filled with gratitude to that God who has so signally blessed us, who has given us blessings beyond measure. May all the nations bless and praise the name of the Lord, and all the world proclaim, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'"

"Amen! amen!" the multitude responded. Then the old veteran grasped the halyards with firm and steady hand, and

"Forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled
The starry banner, which full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind."

THE FLAG REPLACED ON SUMTER.

A loud and prolonged shout, from fort and fleet, greeted the old flag as, all tattered with shot and shell, it rose above the battlements into its native air. The whole audience sprang to their feet. Several bands began to play their most inspiring music. Men swung their hats and grasped each other by the hand; women and children waved their handkerchiefs, and many wept for very joy. As it rested at length in its old place at the top of the staff, and waved its victorious folds towards the recovered city, which had first disowned it, the enthusiasm became tumultuous and overpowering, till at last it found relief in the national song:

"The star spangled banner, O long may it wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!"

I can never forget the impression of that glorious spectacle, and that song of victory that went up from five thousand voices. The colored soldier pacing to and fro, with beating heart and gazing aloft with pride upon the "flag of the free hearts' hope and home," could now exclaim, "Yes, that is now my flag! and yonder, at Fort Wagner, the colored soldier fought and died to restore it. Four years ago, when that flag went down, more than four millions of my people had no flag! But to-day it is our flag, and our country!"

Immediately followed the grand artillery salute to the flag; and I left my seat and climbed the look-out high above upon the wall to obtain an unobstructed view of the bay. First, the heavy guns of Sumter thundered forth their hearty greeting to the flag. Then, in loyal and quick response, came the answering notes from Fort Moultrie and Morris Island, followed by a national salute from every fort and rebel battery that had fired upon the flag four years before.

Finally the fleet, with the little monitors, joined in the deep harmonies of the grand chorus, till the earth trembled with the cannonade, the air grew heavy with smoke, and nothing was visible but the rapid flashes of the artillery. For a moment it seemed as if the assault of '61 was being re-enacted before me. But it is safe to add that had this been the case, I should hardly have chosen such an elevated position upon the observatory of the fort. At length the roar of cannon ceased, the dense clouds of smoke and sand drifted away, and order was restored. The orator of the day, Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, then began his address, of which the opening and closing sentences were as follows: