out of the woods the order "battery by right into line" would be given. Well, we started at a rapid trot. I was driver of the lead horses of gun No. 2, and as we passed out of the woods, in obedience to the command I swung to the right, gun No. 3 swung to my right, and No. 4 to right of No. 3, while No. 1 kept straight on down the road, and we all went forward now at a run into battery.

We galloped down to the edge of the marsh along the river, and swinging into battery our guns opened on the U. S. S. Pawnee out in the river, the other two gunboats being farther down, and around a bend of the river. We were engaged for about twenty minutes, when the Pawnee dropped down the river, and the musketry fire on our left gradually ceased.

It seems that the Federals had advanced on the island with a force of about 2,000 men, supported by three gunboats. They had been met, and after sharp fighting, had been driven back by Col. Gaillard's Twenty-fifth Regiment South Carolina Volunteers, the Marion Artillery,—a light battery,—and a Georgia regiment, while our battery engaged the Pawnee. The Confederate loss was 27 men killed and wounded, and the Federal, 45.

The artillery was under the command of Lieut. Col. Delaware Kemper, who sat on his horse by our battery during the scrimmage. After the affair was over he remarked to our captain, "Captain Webb, you have a splendid set of young fellows there, but they need practice. They could not hit John's Island if they had it for a target." As to our marksmanship, he was mistaken, however, for we did put several shells into the Pawnee, and she had to go to Port Royal for repairs.

In this affair, being a driver, my position while the guns were in action was standing by my horses about 100 feet in the rear of my gun; and it was trying to have to stand there quietly, inactive, and take the shells and few rifle balls that passed by. It would have been much more agreeable to be actively engaged about the gun.

Only a few moments after we had got into action, our little company dog, a half-breed fox-terrier, "Boykee," who always stuck to the guns, and seemed to enjoy the excitement, was struck in the neck by a piece of shell, directly in front of where I was standing, and ran screaming to the rear. This wound was not a serious one, and he soon recovered from it. He was afterwards ignominiously killed by a snake in Florida.

In July, 1863, were developed the disastrous results of the evacuation of Cole's Island in May the year before. As soon as we left that island and Battery Island the Federals occupied them, and used them as bases for operations against Charleston. From there they occupied Folley Island, a densely wooded island where their operations could easily be concealed. They advanced to the north end of this island, to Light House Inlet, and under the concealment of the shrubbery built formidable batteries, which at daybreak one morning were unmasked, and under a heavy fire from their guns, an infantry assault in boats was made upon our small force on the southern end of Morris' Island. After a severe fight the Federals got a firm foothold upon this island, which for the next two months or so was the scene of some of the most sanguinary fighting of the war.

Immediately after this surprise by the Federals a detachment of our company was placed in charge of Battery Haskell, on James Island, directly opposite Morris' Island. The celebrated siege of Battery Wagner then began, and we used to watch the fighting at about three-quarters of a mile distance. The terrible bombardment and assault of July 18 was one of the sights of the war. At daylight the bombardment of the fort began, and continued without a minute's cessation all day. Occasionally as many as four shells were observed in the air at the same time. The fort itself was enveloped in a dense black pall of smoke from bursting shells, and at times was completely hidden. As the afternoon wore on the bombardment increased in intensity, and it seemed as if the very foundations of our part of the world were being torn to pieces. The garrison was kept in the bomb-proof, and not a shot was fired in reply. At dusk the bombardment suddenly ceased, and almost immediately the guns of the Confederates in Fort Sumter, trained on the beach in front of Wagner, opened. Almost simultaneously we saw a mass of blue spring up apparently from the earth, and advance on Wagner, and then the rattle of musketry. As the dusk deepened into darkness the rapid flashes of musketry looked at that distance like vast masses of fireflies, over a morass. We saw that it was an infantry assault, and a desperate hand-to-hand fight it was. But the result was very disastrous to the Federals, who were repulsed with a loss of upwards of 2,000 men.

In August was begun the bombardment of Charleston, which was continued steadily for a year and a half. On the night of the 21st, at 10.45 o'clock, General Beauregard received an unsigned note, brought to our pickets, purporting to be from General Gilmore, demanding the evacuation and surrender of Morris' Island and Fort Sumter under penalty of the bombardment of the city within four hours after the note had been sent by him. Two hours and three-quarters after this note had reached General Beauregard's hands, at 1.30 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, the Federal battery in the marsh on the edge of the creek separating Morris from James Island, opened fire, and threw a number of shells into the city. At about 9 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, seven and a quarter hours after the bombardment had begun, General Gilmore sent a properly signed note making the same demands. This note was immediately answered by General Beauregard with an emphatic refusal, and some severe remarks as to his firing upon a city full of women and children before he had given them reasonable time to escape. As may be imagined, the terror of the women and children in Charleston that night was extreme when it was realized that the city was being bombarded. The distance in a direct line from the Swamp Angel Battery, as it was called, to the city was about 5 miles, and it had not been thought that any gun could shoot that far. At first only percussion shells were used, but later on, in 1864, time-fuse shells were also used, and were much more dangerous, as they nearly always exploded. Battery Haskell, at which our company was stationed, was nearly in line between the Swamp Angel and the city, and constantly we watched the shells, city-bound, passing over our heads high in the air. At night, when fuse shells were used, they looked like slow meteors.

Frequently, when the tide was high, some of the Federal gunboats came into the inlet in front of Battery Haskell, and about half a mile off, and threw a number of shells into it. But no harm was done, as we could easily see the shells coming, and dodged them. We were very seldom allowed to reply. After the shelling was over, and the gunboat had hauled off, it was my habit to go about and pick up the shells, generally about sixty-pounders, and store them under my cot in my tent until I could find time to unscrew the fuse plugs and pour out all of the powder. As soon as I had gathered a wagon load I would carry them to Charleston and sell them at the arsenal. This was such a period of violence and bloodshed that the fearful risk of explosion did not concern me, and what I am equally surprised at now, after the lapse of many years, is that my officers allowed such a thing to be done in the battery, or in fact at all.

Here I witnessed an occurrence that, according to the law of chances, would not happen once in a thousand times. In the battery was a dry well, about six or eight feet deep, and one afternoon, while our friend the gunboat was