had been summoned; but on coming back to Winchester, he fancied he heard distant sounds of firing.

Mounting his horse, Ri-en'zi, which had been his faithful companion for many months, Sheridan rode quickly out of Winchester in the direction of the noise. Before long he met the first fugitives, who told him that the army had been attacked and defeated by General Early, at break of day.

Sheridan now put spurs to his steed, and galloped along the road, swinging his cap to the soldiers, who watched him dashing past. He cheerily called out to them: "Face the other way, boys; we're going back!" The men, who had great confidence in him, now cheered him loudly, and, wheeling around, hurried after him to join in the coming fray.

Galloping thus for twenty miles, rallying the troops as he went, jumping fences and dashing through fields when the road was blocked by wagons or fugitives, Sheridan rode on, mile after mile. But all through that long gallop his noble steed never faltered, and the men, hearing his "Turn, boys, turn; we 're going back!" followed him. blindly.

When Sheridan finally came up to the troops, he encouraged them by crying: "Never mind, boys; we'll whip them yet. We shall sleep in our old quarters tonight." At these words the army quickly formed again, and when all was ready, Sheridan, at his officers' suggestion, rode down the line, to make sure that all the men would see him.

The sight of their familiar and trusted leader on his noble black steed roused the enthusiasm of the soldiers.

When the signal came, they renewed the battle with such spirit that Early was defeated and sent flying out of the valley with a shattered army. This victory created a great sensation throughout the country. In speaking of it, Grant wrote: "Turning what bade fair to be a disaster into a glorious victory stamped Sheridan-what I have always thought him-one of the ablest of generals."

It may interest you to hear that the noble horse Rienzi, which so bravely galloped from Winchester to Cedar Creek, was treated with great kindness until his death in 1878. Then his skin was carefully stuffed and mounted, and placed in the Military Museum on Governors Island, New York, where it can still be seen.

Although Sheridan's campaign in the Shenandoah valley was the shortest, it was also the most brilliant in the whole war, for, while it lasted only one month, it put an end to all raids in the direction of Washington.

L. THE DOINGS OF THE FLEET.

HE Southern Confederacy was now in a bad plight;

TH

for, while it had won most of the triumphs in the beginning of the war, it had lately lost heavily, and its resources were exhausted.

Besides, its seaports had fallen, one by one, into the hands of the Union, and now it had hardly any left. In 1864, two years after taking New Orleans, Admiral Farragut went to attack Mobile (mo-beel'). He wrote home, saying: "I am going into Mobile Bay in the morning, if God

is my leader, as I hope he is." True to his resolve, he ran into the bay, past the great guns of the Confederate forts, and in spite of the rams which tried to stop him.

To direct this battle, Farragut was tied fast to the rigging, and when one of his officers called out that they could not proceed on account of the torpedoes which had been sunk in the channel, he answered that this was not the time to think of torpedoes. Then, taking the lead, he bade his engineer run at full speed, and dashed safely ahead. Here, in Mobile Bay, took place a famous naval battle. The iron ram Tennessee was captured only after a hard struggle, and the port was blocked so securely that not a single vessel could pass in or out. But the city itself was not taken till the next year, at the end of the war, and with the help of Union land forces.

About two months after Farragut steamed into Mobile Bay and captured the iron ram Tennessee, another Confederate ram, called the Al'be-marle, played havoc among the Union vessels blockading the coast of North Carolina. It had already done a great deal of damage, and was getting ready to do more still, when Lieutenant W. B. Cushing proposed to destroy it while it was lying at anchor at Plymouth.

Stealing into the harbor one dark October night, Cushing and fourteen men drew close to the ram before they were seen. When only twenty yards away they were discovered and fired upon; but in spite of the bullets splashing into the water all around him, Cushing ran his small boat close up to the Albemarle, released his torpedo, and, bidding his men look out for themselves, set it off.

At that very moment a shot from the Albemarle struck

his boat, which was dashed to pieces; but a second later a frightful explosion was heard, and the ram was a wreck. As for Cushing and his men, they were struggling in the water in the darkness, surrounded by floating bits of wreckage. Only two of them managed to escape, and Cushing himself, although slightly wounded, swam bravely ashore and hid in a swamp, where some kind-hearted colored people found him and brought him food.

After hiding there all day, Cushing got into a leaky little boat he found near the shore, and, in spite of weakness and stiff muscles, paddled out to a Union ship, where the sailors were anxiously watching for the return of his launch. They saw him coming, but, failing to recognize him in this sorry plight, sternly hailed him, crying: "Who goes there?"

A weak voice answered: "A friend-Cushing; take me up." The men, hanging almost breathless over the ship