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 in those times of gastronomic privation. We were sitting in the little medical dispensary over which the doctor presided, by the side of an open window which looked out upon the parade, with a small table between us upon which our breakfast was laid. Just as we had begun our meal, a two hundred pounder Parrot shell was heard screaming through the air above us, and descending it buried itself in the earth just outside the window. It exploded with terrific report, shattering into fragments the glass, and filling our bucket, about half full of butter, with sand to the very top. The frail tenement reeled with the shock. This shell was followed by another and another in rapid succession, which exploded in the parade of fort and were fired from the land batteries of the enemy. This was the beginning of the bombardment long anticipated, and our first intimation of it. We no longer felt the pangs of hunger, and hurriedly left the building for a safer place. Upon reaching the open air the shot and shell began to fall by scores, and we saw the infantry streaming to the bomb-proof. For a considerable time the firing of the enemy was conducted by the land batteries alone. Finally the enemy's entire squadron, iron-clads and gunboats, left their moorings and bore down steadily and majestically upon the fort. The heavy artillerists sprang to their guns and, with anxious but resolute faces, awaited coolly the terrible onset. It was now apparent that the entire force of the enemy, land and naval, was about to be hurled against ‘Wagner’ alone, but the dauntless little garrison, lifting their hearts to the God of battles in this hour of fearful peril, with their flag floating defiantly above them, resolved to die if need be for their altars, their firesides and their homes. The day broke bright and beautiful. A gentle breeze toyed with the folds of the garrison flag as it streamed forth with undulating grace, or lazily curved about the tall staff. The God of day rising in the splendor of his mid-summer glory, flung his red flame upon the swelling sea, and again performed the miracle of turning the water into wine. Rising still higher he bathed the earth and sea in his own radiant and voluptuous light, and burnished with purple and gold the tall spires of the beleaguered and devoted old city. What a strange contrast between the profound calm of nature and the gathering tempest of war, whose consuming lightnings and thunders were so soon to burst forth with a fury unsurpassed! On came the fleet, straight for the fort; Admiral Dahlgren's flag ship, the Monitor Montauk, Commander Fairfax, in the lead. It was followed by the new Ironsides, Captain Rowan; the Monitors,
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