officers. However, it proved to be the end of the dummy overcoats on parade.

One summer's day several French ships of war arrived in the harbor, opposite Governor's Island. They fired a national salute which it was necessary to reply to, gun for gun, according to custom. Unfortunately at that particular time there were no artillery soldiers on the island, but a sergeant of the Permanent Party was found who understood how to load and discharge guns. He was furnished with a detail of infantry men to assist him. Salutes were always fired from the first or ground tier of guns at Castle Williams, about a dozen in number. When not in use the embrasures for these guns were closed with wooden shutters which could be removed and taken inside while firing.

The Sergeant ordered the shutters to be detached from their fastenings and laid down flat in the openings. He then commenced firing, and at every discharge we saw the shutters being blown to splinters into the harbor, fortunately without damage to any one. When all the guns in the tier had been discharged the Sergeant and his inexperienced crew had to go back to reload and fire them over again. This caused a long gap in the completion of the salute, which should have been fired continuously, and no doubt astonished our French visitors.

A day or two later on a Saturday afternoon the French admiral, with some of his officers, accompanied by the post adjutant, came on an informal visit to the island. I was on the scrubbing squad that day when they passed through the sallyport of the South Battery, unannounced. I was the first boy whom they encountered, hatless, barefooted, in shirt sleeves, with my trousers rolled up to the knees and a broom in my hands. I was startled, but stood to attention and came to a salute, which was returned by the admiral. My few companions did the same. Most of the boys were out fishing, swimming and playing games. The distinguished party remained but a few minutes and did not enter the quarters. I think they were not favorably impressed by our sloppy appearance.

Sometimes recruits deserted the island by arranging to have a row boat appear on the shores at night or by swimming across the Buttermilk Channel to Brooklyn in the night time when the tide was right. If recaptured they were tried by a general court martial and sentenced to severe punishments. There were few desertions among the boys; but two of them who failed to return from leave of absence were caught after a time. They were tried and sentenced to receive twenty-five strokes with a rattan well applied to their "bare buttocks," so the sentence read, and to be confined in the guard-house at hard labor for two months, also forfeit their pay for the same period.

We were turned out and formed in ranks on a spot near the graveyard to witness the punishment of the poor fellows. They were marched to the place under guard. The Adjutant read the sentence of the court martial. Then one of the boys was laid face down on a long bench and held by a member of the guard at his head and another at his feet. His clothes were removed sufficiently to expose his buttocks, and at the adjutant's command, a corporal commenced to apply the rattan, which left a red mark at every stroke and made the boy squirm and groan and finally cry out with pain before the adjutant cried "Halt" at the twenty-fifth blow. While the blows were not inflicted with anything like full force, yet they were cruel enough if only by their number.

The unfortunate second victim was obliged to witness his comrade's punishment and then endure the same himself. Both of the boys were about seventeen years of age and served out their enlistment. One of them I met during the Civil War as a lieutenant of a volunteer regiment. The trembling and sobbing boys were reconducted to the guard-house, and we marched back to quarters after this distressing scene.

The summer passed away, the cholera, both in the city and on the island, was almost extinct. Leave of absence was again granted and I went to the city a few times during the fall and early winter. One morning I felt ill and reported at "doctor's call." I was taken before the surgeon, who examined me and ordered me to bed in the hospital, thinking, no doubt, that I was about to have an attack of fever. I did not expect this and hoped that I would simply be marked "sick in quarters" and excused from duty. I was put to bed in a ward that contained about eight beds occupied by soldiers with all sorts of ailments, some of them very disagreeable. Some of the boys who had been in the hospital had told me that tea and toast was served there to the sick. I hankered for some of it, as I had not tasted any for a long time. I got it twice a day and a little thin gruel, but nothing else. On the third day, I begged to be let go. I was disgusted with the hospital and its inmates. As no serious complications had developed, I was sent back to quarters and excused from duty for a few days.

As the winter approached we were obliged to give up many of our little outdoor diversions and confine ourselves more to our crowded quarters. As there was no place indoors for exercise or amusement, our condition became more melancholy and dejected. Our clothing we found insufficient to keep us warm. Many of us bought woolen knit jackets, which we wore instead of a vest and which gave us some protection against the fierce cold winds that blew across the island and chilled us to the marrow when we were on parade. When we began to have severe frosts, the bandsmen did not appear at guard mounting on the plea that their instruments would freeze. The fifes and drums furnished the only music. Often our fingers were so numb with the cold that we could hardly play a note. The drummers could manage to beat a march with gloves on their hands and suffered less.

One cold night late in November there was an alarm of fire which proved to be in the sutler's row near the hospital. It broke out in several places at once. There was some excitement in getting out the soldiers' wives and children who lived there, but none were injured. There were no fire extinguishing appliances on the island, save fire buckets. The soldiers formed lines to the nearest pump and cistern and passed the buckets along. But they could make no impression on the fire, and the row was a mass of ruins in little more than an hour. Long before a ferry boat brought some firemen and a hand engine from the city there was nothing left to save.

Two of the older boys were accused of setting the houses on fire. They were arrested and confined in the guard-house on charges of arson and were still awaiting trial when I was ordered away shortly after.

The winter had set in early. It was very cold at times and there was snow on the ground. We felt generally depressed and miserable, when quite unexpectedly, one day in the early part of December, 1854, two other boys and myself received orders to prepare to depart to Carlisle Barracks, at Carlisle, Pa., there to be assigned to the Second U.S. Infantry. I do not know why I was selected to go. Quite a number of the boys had been on the island longer than I, and some were more proficient. But I felt glad. Surely any kind of a change would be for the better. The next day I and my companions, Peter Moritz and Edward Young, both a year or two older than I, received a pass to go to New York and say farewell to our parents or relatives, whom we were not likely to see again for years.

A trusty corporal was placed in charge of us. He had orders not to allow us to separate nor to lose sight of us and to return with us to the island before evening. In this way we were obliged to witness each other's leave taking in the presence of our conductor. There were tears and lamenting, and the corporal, who was kindly, but did not like his task, was importuned when about to leave one house for another to "let the poor boy stay just five minutes longer." When he acceded it generally extended to fifteen minutes or more. As none of us had any intention to desert this painful way of parting might have