eded if
any account of the remaining forty-eight days of the heroic
strife on Morris Island were attempted. It closes with the
repulse of the second assault, and it is a fit conclusion to
render the homage due to the gallantry of the contestants by
quoting and adopting the language of Dr. Dennison's address:
'The truest courage and determination was manifested on both
sides on that crimson day at that great slaughter-house,
Wagner.'"

It was no longer a question of doubt as to the valor of Northern
negroes. The assault on Fort Wagner completely removed any prejudice
that had been exhibited toward negro troops in the Department of the
South. General Gillmore immediately issued an order forbidding any
distinction to be made among troops in his command. So that while the
black Phalanx had lost hundreds of its members, it nevertheless won
equality in all things save the pay. The Government refused to place
them on a footing even with their Southern brothers, who received $7 per
month and the white troops $13. However, they were not fighting for pay,
as "Stonewall" of Company C argued, but for the "_freedom of our kin_."
Nobly did they do this, not only at Wagner, as we have seen, but in the
battles on James Island, Honey Hill, Olustee and at Bodkin's Mill.

In the winter of 1864, the troops in the Department of the South lay
encamped on the islands in and about Charleston harbor, resting from
their endeavors to drive the confederates from their strongholds. The
city was five miles away in the distance. Sumter, grim, hoary and in
ruins, yet defying the National authority, was silent. General Gillmore
was in command of the veteran legions of the 10th Army Corps, aided by a
powerful fleet of ironclads and other war vessels. There laid the city
of Charleston, for the time having a respite. General Gillmore was
giving rest to his troops, before he began again to throw Greek fire
into the city and batter the walls of its defences. The shattered ranks
of the Phalanx soldiers rested in the midst of thousands of their white
comrades-in-arms, to whom they nightly repeated the story of the late
terrible struggle. The solemn sentry pacing the ramparts of Fort Wagner
night and day, his bayonet glittering in the rays of the sun or in the
moonlight, seemed to be guarding the sepulchre of Col. Shaw and those
who fell beside him within the walls of that gory fort, and who were
buried where they fell