We did something handsome for 'Old Glory,' and I s'pose it's all right." "I would rather have been killed than lost the battle." "So would I; and betwixt you and me, Tom, you didn't come very fur from losing your number in the mess," added the veteran, as he thrust his little fingers into a bullet hole in the breast of Tom's coat.

"That was rather a close shave." "I felt that one, but I hadn't time to think about it then, for it was just as we were repelling that flank movement," replied Tom, as he unbuttoned his coat, and thrust his hand into his breast pocket.

"Do you suppose she will give me another ?" he added, as he drew forth the envelope which contained the letter and the photograph of the author of his socks.
A minie ball had found its way through the envelope, grinding a furrow through the picture, transversely, carrying away the chin and throat of the young lady.

The letter was mangled and minced up beyond restoration.
Tom had discovered the catastrophe when he waked up in the hospital, for his last thought at night, and his first in the morning, had been the beautiful Lilian Ashford.

He was sad when he first beheld the wreck; but when he thought what a glorious assurance this would be of his conduct on the field, he was pleased with the idea; and while in his heart he thanked the rebel marksman for not putting the bullet any nearer to the vital organ beneath the envelope, he was not ungrateful for the splendid testimonial he had given him of his position during the battle.
"Of course she'll give you another.