stand a great deal of battering; for the
walls are nearly bidden by the sand-covered _glacis_, which would catch
and smother four point-blank shots out of five, if discharged from a
distance. Against shells, however, it has no resource; and one mortar
would make it a most unwholesome residence.

"What's this?" asked a volunteer, in homespun gray uniform, who, like
ourselves, had come in by courtesy.

"That's the butt of the old flag-staff," answered a comrade. "Cap'n
Foster cut it down before he left the fort, damn him I It was a dam'
sneaking trick. I've a great mind to shave off a sliver and send it to
Lincoln."

The idea of getting a bit of the famous staff as a memento struck
me, and I attempted to put it in practice; but the exceedingly tough
pitch-pine defied my slender pocket-knife.

"Jim, cut the gentleman a piece," said one of the volunteers, Jim drew a
toothpick a foot long and did me the favor, for which I here repeat my
thanks to him.

They were good-looking, healthy fellows, these two, like most of their
comrades, with a certain air of frank gentility and self-respect about
them, being probably the sons of well-to-do planters. It would be a
great mistake to suppose that the volunteers are drawn, to any extent
whatever, from the "poor white trash." The secession movement, like all
the political action of the State at all times, is independent of the
crackers, asks no aid nor advice of them, and, in short, ignores them
utterly.

"I was here when the Star of the West was fired on," the Lieutenant told
us. "We only had powder for two hours. Anderson could have put us out in
a short time, if he had chosen."

"How rapidly can these heavy guns be fired?"

"About ten times an hour."

"Do you think the defences will protect the garrison against a
bombardment?"

"I think the palmetto stockades will answer. I don't know about that
enormous pile of barrels, however. If a shot hits the mass on the top, I
am afraid it will come down, bags and barrels together, bury the gun and
perhaps the gunners."

"What if Sumter should open now?" I suggested.

"We should be here to help," answered the Georgian.

"We should be here to run away," amended my comrade from Brooklyn.

"Well, I suppose we should be of mighty little use, and might as well
clear out," was the sober second-thought of the Georgian.

Having satisfied our curiosity, we thanked the Lieutenant and left Fort
Moultrie. The story of our visit to it