s deep under ground, where the great
shells have buried themselves in their downward flight. There are
volumes of smoke which rise like the mists of a summer morning.

There are some brave fellows behind that breastwork. Amid this storm
they come out from their shelter and load a gun. There it comes! A
flash, a cloud, a hissing, a crash! The shot strikes the upper deck of
the Benton, tears up the iron plates, breaks the thick timbers into
kindlings, falls upon the lower deck, bounds up again to the beams
above, and drops into Commodore Foote's writing-desk!

All around, from the gunboats, the mortars, from all the batteries, are
flashes, clouds of smoke, and thunderings, which bring to mind the
gorgeous imagery of the Book of Revelation in the New Testament,
descriptive of the scenes of the Last Judgment.

The firing ceased at sunset. The Benton was struck four times, and the
Cincinnati once. No one was injured by these shots, but one of the guns
of the St. Louis burst, killing two men instantly, and wounding
thirteen.

When the bombardment was at its height, Commodore Foote received a
letter from Cairo, containing the sad information that a beloved son had
died suddenly. It was a sore bereavement, but it was no time for him to
give way to grief, no time to think of his great affliction.

After the firing had ceased, I sat with him in the cabin of the Benton.
There were tears upon his cheeks. He was thinking of his loss.

Were he living now, I should have no right to give the conversation I
had with him, but he has gone to his reward, leaving us his bright
example. These were his words, as I remember:--

"It is a terrible blow, but the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed be His name. It is hard for me to bear, but no harder than it
will be for the fathers of the noble men who were killed on the St.
Louis. Poor fellows! I feel bad for the wounded."

He called the orderly who stood outside the cabin.

"Orderly, tell the surgeon that I want to see him."

The surgeon came in.

"Surgeon, I wish you to do everything you can for those poor fellows on
the St. Louis. Don't omit anything that will contribute to their
comfort."

"It shall be done, sir," said the surgeon, as he left the cabin.

"Poor fellows! I must see them myself. It is a great deal worse to have
a gun explode than to have the men wounded by the enemy's shot, for they
lose confidence. I have protested again and again to the Department