the Federals frequently shelled us from their gunboats in Stono River. We did not mind the Parrott shells, but the shells from the Cohorn mortars on a mortar schooner were very trying. They would fall, apparently from the sky, and there was no dodging them. But fortunately none of them fell directly in the rifle-pits, but all exploded harmlessly in the field. All old soldiers know that mortar shells take a very mean advantage of a man.

One of the outposts on these lines which was manned only at night was out in the marsh, and I had it one night, and it was about the most disagreeable night I ever had on picket. I was placed on the post at dark, with orders to keep in the marsh, at the edge of the tide as it went down, and to come in at the first daylight. I was all the time up to my insteps in mud, by myself, with the rain falling all night. I stood out in that marsh from dark until daylight, in the drenching rain, for about ten hours. Like most of the men, I had no oilskin, or any protection against the weather, and of course was thoroughly drenched early in the night, and the steady rain all night kept me saturated. The best I could do was to try to keep my ammunition and gun-lock dry. It was certainly the worst night I ever spent.

On February 10, 1865, we had our first serious infantry fight, as infantry. We were doing picket duty at this time on the lines near Grimball's causeway, with our right extending to Stono River. At about daylight that morning the Federals began to shell our lines from four gunboats and a mortar schooner, whose masts we could see over the trees; and soon after we could see a large force of their infantry assembling on Legare's plantation on the other side of the flat and marsh in front of our lines. Our entire force along this part of the lines consisted of 52 men of our company and 40 men of the Second South Carolina Artillery and about 20 cavalry, together with 7 officers—all told, 119 men. Just before the Federal infantry advanced, a section of artillery took position at about 600 yards in front of us, and shelled our line, but did no damage. The Federal infantry engaged, as I learned a few months afterwards from one of their officers, were the Fifty-fourth and One Hundred and Forty-fourth New York, white; and the Thirty-second, Thirty-third, and Fifty-fifth U. S. negro troops, altogether about 1,500 men, and one section of artillery. We were assaulted directly in front, but held our ground until the enemy were within 30 feet of our line; in fact, some of their men were actually into our trenches, and having hand-to-hand fights with our men. So close had they got that I had ceased firing, and had just fixed my bayonet, and braced myself for a hand-to-hand fight, when Major Manigault, who was standing only a few paces to my right in rear of the line, gave the order to retreat. To this moment not a man had flinched, but at the order to retreat we broke for the rear, a few of the men reloading, turning, and firing back as they retreated. We halted at a ditch about 300 yards in the rear, where we found the battalion of cadets of the South Carolina Military Academy, and a company of the Second Regiment South Carolina Artillery, altogether about 185 men. We who had come out of the affair, feeling strong with this support, were anxious to return and try to drive back the Federals, but we had no such orders. And probably it was well we did not do so; for about 700 of the enemy were white men, and, as I afterwards learned, more than half of them Irish; and for about 267 men to tackle in open fight nearly three times their number, of that class of men, was too serious an undertaking to be attempted. Of course as to the 800 negroes the odds would not have been counted.

In this affair, of the 119 Confederates engaged, we lost 2 officers, of whom one was the gallant Major Manigault, severely wounded, and 37 men. The Federals lost 88. Our loss, as is shown, was about 33 per cent, of our force engaged, and this large mortality shows the heavy fire to which we were subjected. General Schimmelpfennig was in general command of the affair, but the assault was led by Colonel Bennett, who, mounted upon a sorrel horse, was a mark for several shots from our wretched rifles, but escaped unhurt.

The point where I was, just about the center of our line, at the causeway, was assaulted by a regiment of negro troops; and as they got near to us I distinctly heard their officers cursing them. I heard one officer say, "Keep in line there, you damned scoundrels!" and another, "Go on, you damned rascals, or I'll chop you down!" I saw the line waver badly when it got to within fifty yards of us, and on this occasion at least it did not look to me as if the negroes had the spirit to "fight nobly." I know it is a catch phrase elsewhere that the colored troops fought nobly, but I testify to what I saw and heard.

As to these negro troops, there was a sequel, nearly a year later. When I was peaceably in my office in Charleston one of my family's former slaves, "Taffy" by name, came in to see me. In former times he had been a waiter "in the house," and was about my own age; but in 1860, in the settlement of an estate, he with his parents, aunt, and brother were sold to Mr. John Ashe, and put on his plantation near Port Royal. Of course, when the Federals overran that section they took in all these "contrabands," as they were called, and Taffy became a soldier, and was in one of the regiments that assaulted us. In reply to a question from me, he foolishly said he "liked it." I only replied, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't kill you as you deserved, that's all I have to say." He only grinned.

On February 17, James Island was evacuated by the Confederates. Captain Matthews's company, formerly artillery but now infantry, was added to our two, and the battalion known as Manigault's, or the Eighteenth South Carolina Battalion. Major Manigault being wounded, and a prisoner, Capt. B. C. Webb, of Company A, was in command. Our line of march was through St. Andrew's Parish, across the bridge at Bee's Ferry, and along the old State road past Otranto across Goose Creek bridge, which was burned as soon as the last troops had crossed. Our men had started on this march with as much baggage as they thought they could carry, but they soon threw aside their impedimenta, and each settled down to his one blanket and such clothes as he actually wore. This march across the Carolinas was a very hard one. Our feet soon became blistered and sore, and many of us had no shoes, but trudged along in the cold and mud bare-footed as best we could. As I have already said, this was a cold winter, and it seemed to us that it rained and froze constantly. Not a particle of shelter did we have day or night. We would march all day, often in more or less rain, and at nightfall halt, and bivouac in the bushes, with every particle of food or clothing saturated. Within a few minutes after a halt, even under a steady rain, fires would be burning and quickly extend through the bivouac. If a civilian should attempt to kindle a fire with soaked wood under a steady rain, he would find his patience sorely tried, but the soldiers seemed to have no trouble.

After the fires were kindled we had to wait for the arrival of the commissary wagons; and it was not uncommon for a detail of men to be sent back in the night to help push the wagons through the mud; weary, footsore, hungry, in the dark, up to the knees in mud, heaving on the wheels of a stalled wagon! It was often late at night before the wagons were got up and rations could be obtained.

The men, of course, had to take turns in the use of the two or three frying-pans carried for each company, and when worn down by marching from