rose to view, growing as it were "out of a mirror."
Then appeared the long swampy shores, lying dim and low, with here and
there a miserable fish-house, the sole trace of human habitation.

At sundown the fleet was within ten miles of Roanoke Island. The signal
from the flag-ship was given, at which the vessels of each brigade drew
together, the clank of running-out chains sounded along the lines, the
anchors plashed, and the fleet was moored for the night.

As yet there were no signs of rebels. What the morrow, what the night,
might bring forth was all uncertainty. The night set in dark enough. But
soon the sky cleared, the moon came out resplendent, and the stars looked
down from their far eternal calm upon the evanescent shows of mortal
conflict--the batteries of the rebellion yonder, and here the fleet, no
more than the tiniest shells to those distant, serene, awful eyes of
Deity. And Frank looked up at the stars; and the spirit within him said,
"They will shine the same to-morrow night, and the next night, and
forever; and whether there is war or peace, whether victory comes or
defeat, and whether thou, child, art living or art dead, they know not,
they change not, neither do they rejoice or mourn." And the thought sank
deep into the heart of the boy as he retired to his bed, and closed his
eyes to sleep.

A sharp lookout was kept for the rebel gunboats all night, but they never
made their appearance. The next morning the weather was heavy--promising
rain. At eight o'clock, however, the signal to weigh anchor--the Union
Jack at the foremast, and the American flag at the stern--was telegraphed
from the flag-ship, and repeated by the flag-ship of each brigade. Again
the fleet got in motion, approaching the entrance to Croatan Sound. The
water was shoal, and progress was slow, and soon it came on to rain. It
was a dismal day; rain on the decks, rain on the water, rain on the
marshy shores of the main land, and over the forests beyond, where the
ghosts of blasted trees stretched their naked arms despairingly to the
dripping clouds. And now a low swampy point of Roanoke Island pushes out
into the dim water, under a veil of rain.

At about noon, most of the vessels came to anchor. But some of the
gunboats advanced to the entrance of Croatan Sound, and reconnoitred. The
rebel fleet was discovered, drawn up in line of battle on the west side
of the island, awaiting the conflict. A fog coming on, active operations
agains