"NEW ORLEANS, July 5, 1862. "GENTLEMEN :-We congratulate and thank you all for the manner in which you have received our flag. We did not expect such a reception. We offered the flag to you as a gift from our hearts, as a reward for your noble conduct. Be assured, gentlemen, that that day will be always present in our minds, and that we will never forget that we gave it to the bravest of the brave; but if ever danger threatens your heads, rally under that banner, call again your courage to defend it, as you have promised, and remember that those from whom you received it, will help you by their prayers to win the palm of victory and triumph over your enemies. We tender our thanks to General Butler for lending his presence to the occasion, and for his courtesies to us. May he continue his noble work, and ere long may we behold the Union victorious over its foes and reunited throughout our great and glorious country. Very respecfully."

A few days later, an officer of the regiment came into the office of the commanding General, his countenance not clad in smiles. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost, or one who had suddenly heard of some entirely crushing calamity.

"General," he gasped, "we have been sold. They were negroes!"

"What! Those lovely blondes, with blue eyes and light hair? Impossible!"

"General, it's as true as there's a heaven above. The whole town is laughing at us."

"Well," said the General, "there's no harm done. Say nothing about it. I suppose we must keep it out of the Dapers, and hush it up as well as we can."

They did not quite succeed in keeping it out of tho papers, for one of the "foreign neutrals" of the city sent an account of the affair to the Courier des Etats Unis, in New York, with the inevitable French decorations.

JUST HEARD THE NEWS.

WHEN the Union troops under McClellan and Rosecrans, in the summer of 1861, were penetrating the mountain. region of West Virginia, as they marched through a quiet nook on the side of Laurel Ridge, they saw a venerable matron standing in the door of a log cabin.

One of the men fell into conversation with her, and found her views on the issues of the day were not very well defined. At length he said:

"You'll not refuse to hurrah for Old Abe, will you, old lady ?"

"Who's Old Abe ?" asked the dame, growing more astou ished every minute.

"Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States."

"Why, hain't General Washington President?"

"No! he's been dead for more than sixty years."

"General Washington dead?" she repeated in blank amaze

ment.

Then, rushing into the cabin, she called, "Yeou Sam I—" "Well, what is it, mother?" said a voice within.

In a moment she reappeared with a boy of fifty, whom the men afterward learned was her son.

"Only to think, Sam," she cried excitedly, "General Washington's dead. Sakes alive! I wonder what's going to happen next"

CARRYING DESPATCHES TO VICKSBURG.

COLONEL FONTAINE, the father of Lamar Fontaine, the young man whose remarkable adventures are related below, gave the following description of his son's exploit to the Southern press during the war:

"Lamar is almost continually in the saddle, and employed in very hazardous enterprises. His last feat of arms was the most daring he has yet performed.

"He left my house, under orders from General Johnston, to bear a verbal despatch to General Pemberton, in Vicksburg, and to carry a supply of percussion caps to our troops in that besieged city. I parted with him, hardly hoping ever to see him again alive, for I knew that Vicksburg was closely invested on all sides. The enemy's lines of circumvallation extend from Snyder's Bluff, on the Yazoo, to Warrenton, on the Mississippi, and the rivers and their opposite shores are filled and lined with their forces.

"He was well mounted, but was burdened with forty pounds of percussion caps, besides his blanket and crutches. IIe has no use of his broken leg, and cannot walk a step without a crutch; and, in mounting his horse, he has to lift it over the saddle with his right hand. But he accomplishes this operation with much dexterity, and without assistance. I loaned him a very fine sabre, with wooden scabbard, to prevent rattling, and a very reliable revolver, which has never missed fire when loaded by me.

"The family were called together for prayers, and we prayed fervently that the God of our fathers would shield him from all danger, and enable him to fulfil his mission to Vicksburg successfully, and give him a safe return to us all. I then exhorted him to remember that, if it was the will of

God for him to live and serve his country, all the Yankees. owned by Lincoln could not kill him; but if it was the divine will that he should die, he would be in as much danger at home as in Vicksburg, and death would certainly find him, no matter where he might be. I charged him to uso his best endeavors te kill every one of the jackals wh should attempt to stop his course, or come within reach of his sword or pistol.

"He crossed Big Black river that night, and the next day got between their lines and the division of their army, which was at Mechanicsburg. He hid his horse in a ravine, and ensconced himself in a fallen tree, overlooking the road, during that day. From his hiding-place he witnessed the retreat of the Yankees, who passed him in considerable haste and confusion. After their columns had gone by, and the night had made it safe for him to move, he continued his route in the direction of Snyder's Bluff. As he entered the telegraphic road from Yazoo City to Vicksburg, he was hailed by a picket, but dashed by him. A volley was fired at him by the Yankees. He escaped unhurt; but a Minnie ball wounded his horse mortally. The spirited animal, however, carried him safely to the bank of the Yazoo river, where he died, and left him afoot. He lost one of his crutches in making his escape. This was jerked from him by the limb of a tree, and he had no time to pick it up.

"With the assistance of one crutch, he carried his baggage, and groped along the Yazoo, until he providentially discovered a small log canoe, tied by a rope, within his reach. He pressed this into his service, and paddled down the river, until he met three Yankee gunboats coming up to Yazoo City. He avoided them by running under some willows overhanging the water, and lying concealed until they

passed. Soon afterward he floated by Snyder's Bluff, which was illuminated, and alive with Yankees and negroes, parti cipating in the amusement of a grand ball of mixed races. He lay flat in his canoe, which was nothing but a hollow log, and could hardly be distinguished from a piece of driftwood, and glided safely through the gunboats, transports, and barges of the amalgamationists. He reached the backwater of the Mississippi before day, and in the darkness missed the outlet of the Yazoo, and got into what is called 'Old River.' After searching in vain for a pass into the Mississippi, day dawned, and he discovered his mistake. He was forced to conceal his boat and himself, and lie by for another day. He had been two days and nights without food, and began to suffer the pangs of hunger.

"At night he paddled back into the Yazoo, and descended it to the Mississippi, passing forty or fifty of the Yankee transports. Only one man hailed him, from the stern of a steamboat, and asked him where he was going. He replied that he was going to his fishing lines. In the bend above Vicksburg, he floated by the mortar fleet, lying flat in his canoe. The mortars were in full blast, bombarding the city. The next morning he tied a white handkerchief to his paddle, raised himself up in the midst of our picket boats at Vicksburg, and gave a loud huzza for Jeff. Davis and the Southern Confederacy, amid the vivas of our sailors, who gave him a joyful reception, and assisted him to General Pemberton's headquarters.

"After resting a day and a night in the city, he started out with a despatch from General Pemberton to General Johnston. He embarked on his same canoe, and soon reached the enemy's fleet below the city. He avoided their picket boats on both shores, and floated near their gunboats. He