vouring to get away. The _Merrimac_ fired upon her, gun after gun.

Our ship stuck fast, and could not budge, but she continued to fire.

The ship which had been rammed began to lurch and at last she sank, with
her guns firing as she went down.

Lydia's face was the picture of desolation. Her lips parted. The Doctor
observed her, and drew his arm within his own; she sighed heavily, but
did not speak.

The rebel ship stood still and fired many times on our ship aground; and
white flags were at last seen on the Union vessel.

Now the small rebel ships approached the prize, but our shore batteries,
and even our infantry on shore, kept up a rapid fire to prevent the
capture. Soon the small ships steamed away, and the great craft fired
again and again into the surrendered vessel, and set her afire.

Then still another Union ship took part in the contest; she also was
aground, yet she fought the rebel vessels.

The great ship turned again and steamed toward the south until she was
lost in the thickening darkness. Meanwhile, the burning ship was a sheet
of flame; we could see men leap from her deck; boats put off from
the shore.

"The play is over; let's go to supper," said the Doctor.

"I want no food," said I.

"You must not stay in this air; besides, you will feel better when you
have eaten," he replied.

Lydia was silent; her face was wet with tears.

Groups of soldiers stood in our way; some were mad with excitement,
gesticulating and cursing; others were mute and white. I heard one say,
"My God! what will become of the _Minnesota_ to-morrow?"

The Doctor's face was calm, but tense. My heart seemed to have failed.

The burning _Congress_ threw around us a light brighter than the moon;
each of us had two shadows.

We sat down to supper, "Doctor," said I, "how can you be so calm?"

"Why, my boy," he said, "I counted on such, long ago--and worse;
besides, you know that I believe everything will come right."

"What is to prevent the _Merrimac_ from destroying our whole fleet and
then destroying our coast?"

"God!" said Dr. Khayme.

Lydia, kissed him and burst into weeping.

* * * * *

So far as I can remember, I have passed no more anxious night in my life
than the night of the 8th of March, 1862. My health did not permit me to
go out of the tent; but from the gloomy rumours of the camps I knew that
my anxiety was shared by all. Strange, I thought, that my experience in