the war still raged. everywhere in all the beleaguered land, the tide of brothers' blood flowed apace. bitterness grew with every hour, and not one heaven-toned voice was heard above the din of carnage, saying, "stay the madness, and let the blood stop flowing." the end was not yet reached, the great problem of this unnatural conflict not yet solved. the bombardment of the queen city still continued, though with little hope of its surrender. but the shelling went on, as though this murderous rain of death were but a merry pastime, on those summer days. the fort was now deemed impregnable; and yet the hope of its surrender was one that could not die in the hearts of the beleaguerers. day after day, they assaulted and reassaulted, and day by day were filled with disappointment.

at last, one bright june day was ushered in by a terrific boom, and then, as if summoning the last spark of hope and determination, the grim mouths of the cannon belched forth, for many hours, such a rain of shot and shell as will ever be remembered. the sky was blackened early with the cloud of smoke that rolled up from the sea-the sulphurous smoke that pervaded every nook of the city, and was borne away upon every hurrying breeze to the far-off hills and valleys. one might well imagine the scene a very inferno; so terrible was the conflict. stern, dark, and resolute, defiance stood for hours-not a gun dismounted, not a man dismayed. but the day grew late, and still the booming cannons roared. the heavens above were overcast, as though nature were ready with a flood of tears to weep over the deeds of humanity. the lightning flashed, and the guns flashed, and here and there and everywhere the dreadful shells fell thick and fast.

at length one fell upon the ramparts of defiance and exploded-exploded with a crash of fury that said to every listening ear, "some dreadful deed is done."

alas! alas! the wild crash sounded the death-knell of one brave, noble heart, and crushed countless hopes as george marshall's soul went out. the murderous fragment of a shell penetrated his brain, and his life was ended in a flash.

let nothing more be told of the sad story; nothing but simply this: he was killed, and the troops left in dismay and disorder-killed and borne to the last embrace of the wounded heart that knew no after years of healing-killed at defiance, the place of weird, mysterious terror to the widowed heart from the days of her sunny girlhood-killed and buried away under the magnolia shade, among the hundreds of brave hearts that perished in the same unhappy cause.