At sunrise of March 2d, the American army seemed not to have heard the cannonading of the previous night; or, wondering at such a waste of precious powder, shot, and shell, rested from the real experience of handling heavy guns against the city and an invisible foe, at night. And through the entire day the army rested. No parades were ordered. Only the formal calls of routine duty were sounded by fife and drum. No heads appeared above the ramparts. The tents were crowded with earnest men, tilling powder-horns, casting or counting bullets, cleaning their “firelocks,” as they were called in the official drill manual of those times, and writing letters to their friends at home. The quiet of that camp was intense, but faces were not gloomy in expression, neither was there any sign of special dread of the approaching conflict, which everybody felt to be immediately at hand. As officers went the rounds to see that silence was fully observed, it was enough to satisfy every curious inquirer as to its purpose,—“It is Washington’s order.” And all this time, behind the American headquarters, Rufus Putnam, civil engineer, Knox, Chief of Artillery, Mifflin, Quartermaster-General, and General Thomas, were ceaselessly at work, studying the plans and taking their final instructions from the Commander-in-Chief. On the night of the third of March, soon after that evening’s sunset-gun had closed the formal duties of the day, and seemingly by spontaneous will, all along the front, the bombardment was renewed with the same vigor, and was promptly responded to. But some of the British batteries had been differently disposed, as if the garrison either anticipated an attack upon their works on Bunker Hill, or a landing upon the Common, where both land and water batteries guarded approach. (See map.)