The shell had bursted.
Ten minutes later another shell followed, with like results.

For awhile we forgot all about hunger in the excitement of watching the messengers from "God's country." What happiness to be where those shells came from.
Soon a Rebel battery of heavy guns somewhere near and in front of us, waked up, and began answering with dull, slow thumps that made the ground shudder.

This continued about an hour, when it quieted down again, but our shells kept coming over at regular intervals with the same slow deliberation, the same prolonged warning, and the same dreadful crash when they struck.

They had already gone on this way for over a year, and were to keep it up months longer until the City was captured.
The routine was the same from day to day, month in, and month out, from early in August, 1863, to the middle of April, 1865.

Every few minutes during the day our folks would hurl a great shell into the beleaguered City, and twice a day, for perhaps an hour each time, the Rebel batteries would talk back.