In August was begun the bombardment of Charleston, which was continued steadily for a year and a half. On the night of the 21st, at 10.45 o'clock, General Beauregard received an unsigned note, brought to our pickets, purporting to be from General Gilmore, demanding the evacuation and surrender of Morris' Island and Fort Sumter under penalty of the bombardment of the city within four hours after the note had been sent by him. Two hours and three-quarters after this note had reached General Beauregard's hands, at 1.30 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, the Federal battery in the marsh on the edge of the creek separating Morris from James Island, opened fire, and threw a number of shells into the city. At about 9 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, seven and a quarter hours after the bombardment had begun, General Gilmore sent a properly signed note making the same demands. This note was immediately answered by General Beauregard with an emphatic refusal, and some severe remarks as to his firing upon a city full of women and children before he had given them reasonable time to escape. As may be imagined, the terror of the women and children in Charleston that night was extreme when it was realized that the city was being bombarded. The distance in a direct line from the Swamp Angel Battery, as it was called, to the city was about 5 miles, and it had not been thought that any gun could shoot that far. At first only percussion shells were used, but later on, in 1864, time-fuse shells were also used, and were much more dangerous, as they nearly always exploded. Battery Haskell, at which our company was stationed, was nearly in line between the Swamp Angel and the city, and constantly we watched the shells, city-bound, passing over our heads high in the air. At night, when fuse shells were used, they looked like slow meteors. Frequently, when the tide was high, some of the Federal gunboats came into the inlet in front of Battery Haskell, and about half a mile off, and threw a number of shells into it. But no harm was done, as we could easily see the shells coming, and dodged them. We were very seldom allowed to reply. After the shelling was over, and the gunboat had hauled off, it was my habit to go about and pick up the shells, generally about sixty-pounders, and store them under my cot in my tent until I could find time to unscrew the fuse plugs and pour out all of the powder. As soon as I had gathered a wagon load I would carry them to Charleston and sell them at the arsenal. This was such a period of violence and bloodshed that the fearful risk of explosion did not concern me, and what I am equally surprised at now, after the lapse of many years, is that my officers allowed such a thing to be done in the battery, or in fact at all.