out while the blood gushed afresh at every
word,--

"Yes--chaplain--I'm--badly hurt--but--I'm--not--_whipped_."

Thomas Hilton still lives in Uniontown, Alabama, respected by all who
know him. His fellow-citizens regard the ugly scar which still appears
upon his face with pride and reverence.

The battle of Mansfield, Louisiana, was one of the most
hotly-contested and bloody of the war, the loss in men and officers
being terrific. The tide of battle rolled on, through lofty pine
forests, amid tangled undergrowth, and over open fields, where the
soldiers were exposed a to storm of shot and shell, and where, on that
beautiful Sunday morning, hundreds of the dead and dying strewed the
ground. While the battle was at its height it became necessary, in
order to secure concerted action, to send dispatches to a certain
point. The only way lay across a ploughed field, exposed to a terrific
fire from the enemy, whose target the messenger would become: and it
seemed as if certain death must be the fate of any one who should
attempt to run the gauntlet. And yet the necessity was met. _A boy of
eighteen years_ stepped forth from the ranks of Company G, Crescent
Regiment, Louisiana Volunteers, and offered to perform this dangerous
service.

Dashing on through a perfect hail of shot and shell, stumbling and
falling over the furrowed ground, struggling up and on again, he
passed unharmed, successfully executing his mission. His escape was so
miraculous that one can only account for it by the belief that God
gave his angels charge concerning him.

The name of this valiant boy--James V. Nolan--should live in history.
He still lives, and has been for years secretary of the Cotton
Exchange at Shreveport, Louisiana.

CHAPTER III.

THE YOUNG COLOR-BEARER.

The story of "The Little Apron" was written up by Major McDonald, of
Louisville, to be read at a meeting of veterans of Association Army of
Northern Virginia, Kentucky Division. It is true in every
particular,--indeed, a matter of history.

I have given it a place here because I feel sure that many of my young
readers will remember having seen the apron in question, and will like
to read its full history. It was very kindly loaned to me, during the
New Orleans Exposition, by Major McDonald, and was on exhibition at my
tent ("The Soldiers' Best"), among many other Confederate relics,
where it never ceased to be an object of profound interest and
veneration. Hundreds