It may be out of place to digress a moment to illustrate the moral effect of such a convulsion. Several weeks after this great mine explosion, the 18th Army Corps, to which I then belonged, was holding a line of works recently captured from the rebels, about six miles from Richmond, when one night the colonel commanding Fort Harrison, a large field work forming a part of this line, came down to headquarters and reported that some old Pennsylvania coal miners in his command had heard mining going on under the fort. As the nearest part of the enemy’s line was some 400 yards from the fort, I was quite certain that they could not have run a gallery that distance in the time that had elapsed since we occupied the work, but there was of course the possibility that the mine had been partly built beforehand so as to be ready in just such a case as had arisen, viz., the capture of the fort by our troops. I therefore went with the colonel up to the fort to listen for the mining operations, and got the men who claimed to have heard the subterranean noises, down in the bottom of the ditch of the fort, which was ten feet deep, and at the angles formed a fairly good listening gallery, but nothing unusual could be heard. I therefore made arrangements to sink a line of pits in the bottom of the ditch, something like ordinary wells; the bottoms of these pits to be finally connected by a horizontal gallery which would envelop the fort and enable us to hear the enemy and blow him up, before he could get under the fort. Although the commanding officer