g home, and worship it. It would not be idolatry,
because it's made in the image of nothing in the heaven above or the
earth beneath or in the waters under the earth."

Wiser councils had prevailed, and the floating cheese box was completed
and arrived in Hampton Roads in time to put its powers to supreme test.

The _Merrimac's_ crew ate their breakfast at their leisure and prepared
to drive their ugly duckling into the battle line again and finish the
work of destroying the battered Federal squadron.

The _Merrimac_ had fought the battle of the day before under the
constant pounding of more than one hundred guns bearing on her iron
sides. Her armor was intact. Two of her guns were disabled by having
their muzzles shot off. Her nose had been torn off and sank with the
_Cumberland_. One anchor, her smoke stacks and steam pipes were shot
away. Every scrap of her railing, stanchions, and boat davits had been
swept clean. Her flag staff was gone and a boarding pike had been set up
in its place.

With stern faces, and absolutely sure of victory, her crew swung her
into the stream, crowded on full steam and moved down on the
_Minnesota_.

Close under the ship's side they saw for the first time the cheese box.
They had heard of the experiment of her building but knew nothing of her
arrival.

Her insignificant size was a surprise and the big _Merrimac_ dashed at
her with a sullen furious growl of her big guns. The game little bulldog
swung out from the _Minnesota_ and made straight for the onrushing
monster.

The flotilla of gunboats had been signaled to retire and watch the
duel.

From the big eleven-inch guns of the _Monitor_ shot after shot was
hurled against the slanting armored walls of the _Merrimac_.

Broadside after broadside poured from her guns against the iron-clad
tower of the _Monitor_.

The _Merrimac_, drawing twenty feet of water, was slow and difficult to
handle. The game little _Monitor_ drew but twelve feet and required no
maneuvering. Her tower revolved. She could stand and fight in one spot
all day.

The big black hull of the _Merrimac_ bore down on the _Monitor_ now to
ram and sink her at a blow. The nimble craft side stepped the avalanche
of iron, turned quickly and attempted to jamb her nose into the steering
gear of the Southerner--but in vain.

For two solid hours the iron-clads pounded and hammered each other. The
shots made no impression on either boat.

Again the _Merrimac_ tried to