porting herself
on a crutch. As they rode up she asked if they were "Yankees," and upon
their replying that they were, she said: "Have you got the Stars and
Stripes with you? My father fought the Tories in the Revolution, and my
old eyes ache for a sight of the true flag before I die."

To gratify her the colonel sent to have the colors brought that way.
When they were unfurled and planted before her door, she passed her
trembling hands over them and held them close to her eyes that she might
view the stars once more. When the band gave her "Yankee Doodle,"
and the "'Star-Spangled Banner," she sobbed like a child, as did her
daughter, a woman of fifty, while her three little grandchildren gazed
in wonder.

They were Eastern people, who had gone to New Orleans to try to improve
their condition. Not being successful, they had moved from place to
place to better themselves, until finally they had settled on this spot,
the husband having taken several acres of land here for a debt.

Then the war burst upon them. The man fled to the mountains to avoid the
conscription, and they knew not whether he was alive or dead. They had
managed to support life, but were so retired that they saw very few
people.

Leaving them food and supplies, the colonel and the corps passed on.

TWO HERO-STORIES OF THE CIVIL WAR

BY BEN LA BREE (ADAPTED)

I. BRAVERY HONORED BY A FOE

In a rifle-pit, on the brow of a hill near Fredericksburg, were a number
of Confederate soldiers who had exhausted their ammunition in the vain
attempt to check the advancing column of Hooker's finely equipped and
disciplined army which was crossing the river. To the relief of these
few came the brigade in double-quick time. But no sooner were the
soldiers intrenched than the firing on the opposite side of the river
became terrific.

A heavy mist obscured the scene. The Federal soldiers poured a merciless
fire into the trenches. Soon many Confederates fell, and the agonized
cries of the wounded who lay there calling for water, smote the hearts
of their helpless comrades.

"Water! Water!" But there was none to give, the canteens were-empty.

"Boys," exclaimed Nathan Cunningham, a lad of eighteen, the color-bearer
for his regiment, "I can't stand this any more. They want water, and
water they must have. So let me have a few canteens and I'll go for
some."

Carefully laying the colors, which he had borne on many a field, in a
trench, he seized some cant