ng streets, its brick warehouses, its white cottages,
and its overshadowing trees,--all peaceful and undisturbed by
flames,--it seemed, in the men's favorite phrase, "too much good," and
all discipline was merged, for the moment, in a buzz of ecstasy.

The city was still there for us, at any rate; though none knew what
perils might be concealed behind those quiet buildings. Yet there were
children playing on the wharves; careless men, here and there, lounged
down to look at us, hands in pockets; a few women came to their doors,
and gazed listlessly upon us, shading their eyes with their hands. We
drew momently nearer, in silence and with breathless attention. The
gunners were at their posts, and the men in line. It was eight o'clock.
We were now directly opposite the town: yet no sign of danger was seen;
not a rifle-shot was heard; not a shell rose hissing in the air.
The Uncas rounded to, and dropped anchor in the stream; by previous
agreement, I steamed to an upper pier of the town, Colonel Montgomery
to a lower one; the little boat-howitzers were run out upon the wharves,
and presently to the angles of the chief streets; and the pretty town
was our own without a shot. In spite of our detention, the surprise had
been complete, and not a soul in Jacksonville had dreamed of our coming.

The day passed quickly, in eager preparations for defence; the people
could or would give us no definite information about the Rebel camp,
which was, however, known to be near, and our force did not permit our
going out to surprise it. The night following was the most anxious I
ever spent. We were all tired out; the companies were under arms, in
various parts of the town, to be ready for an attack at any moment. My
temporary quarters were beneath the loveliest grove of linden-trees,
and as I reclined, half-dozing, the mocking-birds sang all night like
nightingales,--their notes seeming to trickle down through the sweet air
from amid the blossoming boughs. Day brought relief and the sense of due
possession, and we could see what we had won.

Jacksonville was now a United States post again: the only post on the
main-land in the Department of the South. Before the war it had three or
four thousand inhabitants, and a rapidly growing lumber-trade, for which
abundant facilities were evidently provided. The wharves were capacious,
and the blocks of brick warehouses along the lower street were utterly
unlike anything we had yet seen in that reg