brightest noonday penetrated the inmost recesses of the forest and for a moment sharply outlined every soldier's form—then came a sound that shook the very earth, that thundered and reverberated along the entire horizon—then all was still and dark. "What is it?" was the question on every lip. Not until morning had fully dawned did we learn that it was the dying cry of the old warship Mississippi as she sank to her rest beneath the waters of the river whence she had received her name.
The events of that memorable night form one of the most stirring chapters of the history of the war. Farragut having learned of our loss of the steamer Queen of the West between Vicksburg and Port Hudson determined to run past the batteries at the latter place and recover command of the river above. So in his stout flagship, the Hartford, lashed side by side with the Albatross he led the perilous adventure arriving abreast of the rebel works at about midnight. The rebels were on the watch and immediately the flames of a vast bonfire in front of the heaviest batteries lighting up the entire breadth of the river shot up into the sky and the next instant the earth trembled to the roar of all the rebel batteries, whereupon our mortar boats below began firing thirteen-inch shell, and four frigates and five gunboats moved up into the fight. As our ships came past within pistol shot of the batteries grape and canister swept their decks with murderous discharges, the crescent shape of the river enabling them to rake each vessel as it approached and again as it receded. By 1 o'clock the fight was virtually over, the Hartford and the Albatross having passed while most of their consorts had failed and dropped down
