They were met, as the foe should be met by the brave,
With courage, and not with despair."—Prosper M. Wetmore.
AWOKE at four o'clock on Christmas morning, and my first waking thought was of the dawn of a fourth of July in a Northern city. Guns, pistols, and squibs were already heralding the holiday; indeed the revelry commenced at dark the previous evening, notwithstanding it was the night of the Sabbath. Expecting to depart in the steam-boat for City Point at six o'clock in the morning, I had directed the hostler, a funny little negro, who was as full of promises as a bank-teller's drawer, to feed my horse at half past four. I showed him a bright coin, and promised him its possession if he would be punctual. Of course he would "be up before dat time, rely upon it;" but experience had taught me to be distrustful. At the appointed hour I went to the stable dormitory, and rapped several times before the hostler stirred. "Yes, massa," he exclaimed, "I'se jis turnin' over as you cum up de stair and striking a light with flint and tinder, he went down to the stable with his lantern. I stood in the door watching the breaking of the clouds and the peeping forth of the stars after a stormy night, when a clatter in the stall attracted my attention. Upon looking in, I discovered the little hostler under the manger, with his tin lantern crushed beneath him, but the candle still burning. "Ki!" he exclaimed, scrambling to regain his feet, "Ki! how like de debble he butt! Mos knock my brains out!" I soon perceived the cause of the trouble. A large black goat, with a beard like a Turk, which I had seen in the stable the previous evening, observing the negro's motions while rubbing Charley's legs, and interpreting them as a challenge, had played the battering-ram with the hostler, and laid him sprawling under the manger. "Did he hit you?" I inquired, gravely, trying to suppress laughter. "Hit me, massa!" he exclaimed; "why he most ruin me, I reckons. See dar!" and with all the dramatic gravity of Anthony when he held up the robe of Cæsar, and exclaimed, "See what a rent the envious Casea made!" the hostler exhibited a "rent" in his nether garment at least an ell in length. Notwithstanding his mishap, Billy insisted that "de goat is healthy for de hosses, and musn't be turned out any how but he promised to give him a "licken de fus time he ketch him asleep." Charley had his oats in time, and at six o'clock we embarked on the Alice for James River and City Point.
Going out of the harbor at Norfolk we passed the United States Marine Hospital, on the western bank of the river, a spacious building standing upon the site of Fort Nelson of the Revolution. On the opposite side I perceived the ruins of Fort Norfolk, erected in 1812. We passed Craney Island * before sunrise, and leaving Hampton and its noble harbor on the
* Craney Island is at the mouth of the Elizabeth River. The Americans erected fortifications there in 1812, which commanded the entrance to Norfolk harbor. On the twenty-second of June, 1813, a powerful British fleet made an attack upon these works. A part of the hostile force landed on Nansemond Point,
Lone relic of the past, old moldering pile,
Where twines the ivy round thy ruins gray,
Where the lone toad sits brooding in the aisle,
Once trod by "ladye fayre" and gallant gay!
Before my gaze altar and chancel rise,
The surpliced priest, the mourner bowed in prayer
Fair worshipers, with heaven-directed eyes,
And manhood's piety, and pride are there!
Knights of the olden time perchance are kneeling,
And choristers pour forth the hallowed hymn;
And hark! the organ's solemn strains are pealing.
Like songs of seraphs, or rapt cherubim!
But no! 'tis but my fancy, and I gaze
On ruined walls, where creeps the lizard cold;
Or dusky bats beneath the pale moon's rays
Their solemn, lonely midnight vigils hold.
Yet they are here! the learned and the proud,
Genius, and worth, and beauty—they are here!
I stand rebuked amid the slumbering crowd,
While time-past voices touch the spirit's ear."
John C. M'Cabe.
and a part attempted to reach the island in barges. The former were driven off by the Virginia militia, and the latter were so galled by the guns of a battery, that those who were not destroyed retreated to the ships. The repulse was decisive. More than two hundred of the enemy were killed and wounded. Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Gosport were saved.