he battle-cry of the Confederates, he joined lustily
in the shout and rushed forward bearing his colors. The fog and smoke
concealing from him the true state of affairs, it was a terrible shock
to see, suddenly, the enemy's color floating from the battery.
Realizing for the first time that all was lost, he hastily lowered his
flag between the chests of a caisson, and, tearing off the colors,
thrust them into his bosom, throwing the staff away. He then ran into
the woods and up the lines, where he came upon a company of the
Richmond Howitzers, and served with them until their ammunition was
exhausted.

A remarkable circumstance connected with the above incident was the
fact that, during the confusion and haste following the order for the
hasty march, the brothers lost sight of each other, and the elder (who
bore the flag) was compelled to gallop to the front, leaving the
tent-cloth and blankets, which usually were included in the roll
behind the saddle, to be carried in the other's knapsack. The first
thought of the younger was impatience at the unusual burden he had to
carry into battle, but reflection brought with it a feeling (perhaps a
premonition), "It is all right and perhaps the means of saving my
life." In less than half an hour it had proved indeed a blessing in
disguise.

The owner of the Bible, then a youth of nineteen, now a minister of
the Protestant Episcopal Church, cherishes the book and the
minie-ball, not only as a memento of the war, but with feelings of
deepest gratitude, which find appropriate expression in the
consecration of his life to Him who "protected his head in the day of
battle." It is his earnest hope that he may, by the blessing of God,
so expound the teaching of that blessed Book as to make it a means of
salvation to many souls.

CHAPTER IX.

FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY.

Dear friends, when you read the caption of this page in my book of
"Memories," do not accuse me in your hearts of favoritism. Of all
soldiers who wore the gray, only one was nearer than others to my
heart. I took no special pride in one organization above others, save
in the command to which my husband belonged. Surely this is quite
natural.

Who does not remember the epidemic of blue cockades which broke out in
New Orleans during the winter of 1860 and 1861, and raged violently
throughout the whole city? The little blue cockade, with its pelican
button in the centre and its two small streamers, was the