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 of people handled it.  Veterans gazed upon it with moistened eyes.  Women bedewed it with tears, and often pressed kisses upon it.  Children touched it reverently, listening with profound interest while its story was told.  The little apron was of plain white cotton, bordered and belted with “turkey red,”—­an apron of “red, white, and red,” purposely made of these blended colors in order to express sympathy with the Confederates.  It yet bears several blood-stains.  The button-hole at the back of the belt is torn out, for the eager little patriot did not wait to unbutton it.  There is another hole, just under the belt in front, made when the wounded boy tore it from the staff to which he had nailed it to conceal it in his bosom.  The story as told by Major McDonald is as follows: 

In the spring of 1863, while the Army of Northern Virginia was encamped on the Rapidan River, preparing for that memorable campaign which included the battle of Gettysburg, there came to it, from Hampshire County, Virginia, a beardless boy, scarcely eighteen years of age, the eldest son of a widowed mother.  His home was within the enemy’s lines, and he had walked more than one hundred miles to offer his services