distant headland, followed by Captain Porter, who kept his great guns booming till he was almost within range of the Rebel batteries at Columbus. He was a brave man, short and stout, with a heavy beard. His father commanded the United States ship Essex in 1812, and had a long, hard fight with two British ships in the harbor of Valparaiso, fighting against great odds, till his decks were slippery with blood, till nearly all of his guns were dismounted, when he was obliged to surrender. "The son is a chip of the old block," said Admiral Foote the next day to Captain Porter, commending his watchfulness and promptness to meet the enemy. Paul saw how necessary it was in military operations to be always on the watch, and he felt that it was also necessary to be calm and self-possessed when on the battle-field. The regiment took up its line of march, for a reconnoissance towards Columbus, along a winding path through the woods, passing log farm-houses, crossing creeks on log bridges. Paul noticed all the windings of the road, the hills, houses, and other objects, keeping count of his steps from one place to another, jotting it down on a slip of paper when the regiment came to a halt. They could not kindle a fire, for they were in the enemy's country, and each man ate his supper of hard-tack and cold beef, and washed it down with water from the creek. Paul was sitting on a log eating his supper, and looking about for a place to spread his blanket for the night, when the Colonel of the regiment came to him and said: "Sergeant Parker, it is very important that a reconnoissance be made to-night towards the enemy's lines. I hear that you are a good, faithful, and trustworthy soldier. Are you willing to take it?" "I have no desire to shirk any responsibility. If you wish me to go, I am ready," said Paul. "Very well; gain all the information you can, and report at daybreak," said the Colonel. He went out alone in the darkness, past the pickets. And now that he was alone, and moving towards the enemy, he felt that he was engaged in a hazardous undertaking. He walked softly, crouching down, listening to every sound;--on through deep and gloomy ravines, through the dense forests, past farm-houses, where dogs were howling,--noticing all the objects, and picturing them in memory. "Halt! Who comes there?" shouted a voice. He heard the click of a gun-lock. It was a very dark night; stooping close to the ground, he could see an object by the roadside, immediately before him. He held his breath. What should he do? "Keep cool," said a monitor within. His heart had leaped into his throat, but it went back to its proper place. "Who comes there?" said the sentinel again. Instead of answering, he moved backward so softly and noiselessly that he could not hear his own footsteps. "What is the row?" he heard a Rebel officer ask of the sentinel. "There is a Yankee prowling about, I reckon," said the sentinel in a whisper, and added, "There he is."