heir fathers wore
the blue or the gray during the late civil war.

Nathan Cunningham was the name of this young hero. He was a member of
the Second Company Orleans Cadets, afterwards Company E, Fifth
Regiment, Louisiana Volunteers, Hay's Brigade, Array of Northern
Virginia, and color-bearer of the regiment at the time the incident
narrated below occurred. The story is as follows:

It was a dark and starless night. Tattoo-beat had long been heard, and
Hay's Brigade, weary after a long day's march, rested beneath the dewy
boughs of gigantic oaks in a dense forest near the placid
Rappahannock. No sound broke the stillness of the night. The troops
were lying on nature's rude couch, sweetly sleeping, perhaps, little
dreaming of the awful dawn which was soon to break upon them. The
camp-fires had burned low. The morrow's rations had been hastily
cooked, hunger appeased, and the balance laid carefully away; but that
which was most essential to life had, unfortunately, been neglected.
No provision for water had been made. The springs being somewhat
distant from the camp, but few had spirit, after the day's weary
march, to go farther. The canteens were, for the most part, empty.

Though thirsting, the tired soldiers slept, oblivious to their
physical sufferings. But ere the morning broke, the distant sound of
musketry echoed through the woods, rudely dispelling the solemn
silence of the night, and awakening from their broken dreams of home
and kindred the whole mass of living valor.

The roll of the drum and the stentorian voice of the gallant chief
calling to arms mingled together. Aroused to duty, and groping their
way through the darkness, the troops sallied forth in battle array.

In a rifle-pit, on the brow of a hill overlooking the river, near
Fredericksburg, were men 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. But owing to the
heavy mist which prevailed as the morning broke, little or no
execution had been done. To the relief of these few came the brigade
in double-quick time. But no sooner were they intrenched than the
firing on the opposite side of the river became terrific, and the
constant roaring of musketry and artillery became appalling.

Undismayed, however, stood the little band of veterans, pouring volley
after volley into the crossing column.

Soon many soldiers fell. Their agonizin