save the mournful music of the band, and not a head in all
that vast multitude but was uncovered.

"The procession then moved off in the following order: The
hearse containing the body, with Capts. J. W. Ringgold, W.
B. Barrett, S. J. Wilkinson, Eugene Mailleur, J. A. Glea,
and A. St. Leger, (all of whom, we believe, belong to the
Second Louisiana Native Guards), and six members of The
Friends of the Order, as pall-bearers; about a hundred
convalescent sick and wounded colored soldiers; the two
companies of the Sixth Regiment; a large number of colored
officers of all native guard regiments; the carriages
containing Capt. Cailloux's family, and a number of army
officers; followed by a large number of private individuals,
and thirty-seven civic and religious societies.

"After moving through the principal down-town streets the
body was taken to the Beinville-street cemetery, and there
interred with military honors due his rank." * *

The following lines were penned at the time:

ANDRE CAILLOUX.

He lay just where he fell,
Soddening in a fervid summer's sun.
Guarded by an enemy's hissing shell,
Rotting beneath the sound of rebels' gun
Forty consecutive days,
In sight of his own tent.
And the remnant of his regiment.

He lay just where he fell.
Nearest the rebel's redoubt and trench,
Under the very fire of hell,
A volunteer in a country's defence,
Forty consecutive days.
And not a murmur of discontent,
Went from the loyal black regiment.

A flag of truce couldn't save,
No, nor humanity could not give
This sable warrior a hallowed grave.
Nor army of the Gulf retrieve.
Forty consecutive days,
His lifeless body pierced and rent,
Leading in assault the black regiment.

But there came days at length,
When Hudson felt their blast,
Though less a thousand in strength,
For "our leader" vowed the last;
Forty consecutive days
They stormed, they charged, God sent
Victory to the loyal black regiment.

He lay just where he fell,
And now the ground was their's,
Around his mellowed corpse, heavens tell,