utherner, who would surrender rather than shed the blood of
fellow-Southerners. Major Anderson was an army-officer, incapable by his
professional education of comprehending State rights, angry because he
had been charged with cowardice in withdrawing from Fort Moultrie, and
resolved to defend himself to the death.

In the mean time, the city papers were strangely deficient in local news
concerning the revolution,--possibly from a fear of giving valuable
military information to the enemy at Washington. Uselessly did I study
them for particulars concerning the condition of the batteries, and
the number of guns and troops,--finding little in them but mention
of parades, soldierly festivities, offers of service by enthusiastic
citizens, and other like small business. I thought of visiting the
islands, but heard that strangers were closely watched there, and that
a permit from authority to enter the forts was difficult to obtain.
Fortune, or rather, misfortune, favored me in this matter.

After passing six days in Charleston, hearing much that was
extraordinary, but seeing little, I left in the steamer Columbia for New
York. The main opening to the harbor, or Ship Channel, as it is called,
being choked with sunken vessels, and the Middle Channel little known,
our only resource for exit was Maffitt's Channel, a narrow strip of deep
water closely skirting Sullivan's Island. It was half-past six in the
morning, slightly misty and very quiet Passing Fort Sumter, then Fort
Moultrie, we rounded a low break-water, and attempted to take the
channel. I have heard a half-dozen reasons why we struck; but all I
venture to affirm is that we did strike. There was a bump; we hoped it
was the last:--there was another; we hoped again:--there was a third; we
stopped. The wheels rolled and surged, bringing the fine sand from
the bottom and changing the green waters to yellow; but the Columbia
remained inert under the gray morning sky, close alongside of the brown,
damp beach of Sullivan's Island. There was only a faint breeze, and a
mere ripple of a sea; but even those slight forces swung our stern far
enough toward the land to complete our helplessness. We lay broadside to
the shore, in the centre of a small crescent or cove, and, consequently,
unable to use our engines without forcing either bow or stern higher
up on the sloping bottom. The Columbia tried to advance, tried to back
water, and then gave up the contest, standing upright on her