all on my head." A few seconds after this, the same sergeant received a similar salute, which made him hug the ground, when a soldier who was near him sang out, "Are you kilt, sergeant, dear?"--"Upon my conscience," groaned the sergeant, "I don't know; but I feel mighty queer, so I do." I had not been on my legs again above a second, and had scarcely time to scratch my head, when there was a dreadful explosion of powder. The shock caused by this explosion nearly threw me down again. On looking behind, I found it necessary to give some orders, and I pointed to the object of my instructions. Some ill-natured fellow from the ramparts thought I was pointing the finger of derision at him, so he let fly his matchlock at me, and shot me through the very finger I was pointing with--the forefinger of the left hand. The shot passed through the finger, and, carrying away nearly the whole of the bone of the two first joints, grazed the palm of my hand, and passed through the lapel of my coat. At last the inner gate yielded to force, and we rushed into the body of the fort. On our first entrance, we could see women and children flying across the narrow streets; some mothers bearing their offspring in their bleeding arms; some dropping them in their flight; and others meeting death from the balls of our men, who were firing at random. Many poor childless mothers threw themselves on the points of our men's bayonets, and some begged for mercy. Putrid bodies, both of men and beasts, lay about in all directions--some of them three or four deep; and the smell was absolutely suffocating. The fighting soon ceased; and, though many attempted to escape by another bridge, they were taken prisoners.