one day more on the bare possibility of relief arriving from New York.
The fire accordingly re-commenced on both sides with greater fury than
before.

18th.--During the whole morning the fire from all the batteries
continued with unabated warmth, though one after the other our guns were
becoming useless. I continued working away at mine with gloomy
desperation. I was suffering from my wounds, from fatigue, and from
hunger too, for our provisions had almost failed us. I could have gone
on, however, as long as a man remained alive to help me work my guns.
At last a shot came through the embrasure at which was a gun I was on
the point of firing. Suddenly I felt my arm jerked up--the match
dropped from my nerveless arm, and I fell. At that moment the signal
was given to cease firing. Another flag of truce was going forth. I
felt that I was desperately wounded--I believed that my last hour had
come.

It was just then four o'clock. This was nearly the last shot fired
during that hateful and fratricidal war. Angels were rejoicing that
blood had ceased to flow, though proud British hearts were sad and
humbled at the thoughts of their defeat. That hour struck the knell of
England's supremacy in the West, and gave forth the first glad notes of
the establishment of American Independence. Directly afterwards the
cannonade from the side of the enemy ceased along the whole extent of
their line.

My men, when they saw me on the ground, lifted me up, and placed me on a
litter already deeply stained with blood. O'Driscoll arrived, and
sincere was the sorrow and commiseration he expressed when he saw me. I
inquired for Colonel Carlyon, and entreated that I might be conveyed to
where he was.

I felt a longing desire to see Madeline's father once more, and to send
by him, should he survive, my last message of love and devotion to her.
I thought that he would not hesitate about delivering them.

"I will inquire where your friend the colonel is," answered O'Driscoll.
"He was removed, I know, for the house where he lay was too much
battered to be longer tenable. I am uncertain to what quarters he has
been removed."

My heart sank within me when I heard these words, for I fully believed
that Colonel Carlyon had been killed, and that O'Driscoll was unwilling
to wound my feelings by the information. My men now moved on with me
through the town. I need not again describe the scenes I witnessed--the
dead scattered about, pi