between the lines. It was a new hat, for which I had just invested $3.00, Confederate currency, but I would not have gone after it for all the hats that ever ran the blockade. I was sorrowfully turning away to see if I could not borrow a "second-hand hat," to wear into Petersburg, though I did not know how I could get another, when George Haner stepped up and said: "Chaplain, I will get your hat." I positively forbade his doing so, told him that it would be a reckless risk of his life to attempt it, and thinking that he was dissuaded, I went into one of the bomb-proofs, and having succeeded in borrowing a "second-hand" cover for my head, was preparing to leave the trenches when George Haner came up and brought me the hat which had deserted me. "Why, how did you get it, George?" I asked. "Oh! I crawled down the trench leading to the picket line and fished it in with a pole." "But, did not the Yankees see and shoot at you? " "Yes! and they came very near getting me," said the brave fellow, as he raised his arm and showed three bullet-holes in the jacket sleeve of the arm with which he had worked the pole. "I reckon they would have gotten me," he added, "but I called out, 'Hello, Yank! quit your foolishness. I am doing no harm. I am just trying to get the chaplain's hat,' and the Yank replied, 'All right, Johnny, I'll not shoot again if you will hurry up and get it before the next relief comes.' And so I got it without being hurt." The brave boy had cheerfully risked his life to serve his old comrade and chaplain. Poor fellow! he was killed a few days afterward, bravely doing his duty. He sleeps in an unknown grave at Petersburg; and this little tribute is justly due to as true a patriot, as heroic a soldier as ever kept step to the music of Dixie or fought under any flag.
I have not singled out the Thirteenth Virginia infantry as being superior to other regiments of the Confederacy. I have simply cited a few illustrations which came under my personal observation; but there were many other
