cowardice, of treachery, of barbarous brutality. Sadder
still, such a recital would show strange contrasts in the careers of
individual men--men who at one time act well and nobly, and at another
time ill and basely. But though the ugly truths must not be blinked, and
though the lessons they teach should be set forth by every historian,
and learned by every statesman and soldier, yet these are not the truths
on which it is best worth while to dwell. For our good-fortune the
lessons best worth learning in the nation's past are lessons of heroism.

From time immemorial the armies of every warlike people have set the
highest value upon the standards they bore to battle. To guard one's own
flag against capture is the pride, to capture the flag of one's enemy
the ambition, of every valiant soldier. In consequence, in every war
between peoples of good military record, feats of daring performed by
color-bearers are honorably common. The civil war was full of such
incidents. Out of very many, two or three stand as especially
noteworthy.

One occurred at Fredericksburg on the day when half the brigades of
Meagher and Caldwell lay on the bloody slope leading up to the
Confederate entrenchments. Among the assaulting regiments was the 5th
New Hampshire, and it lost 186 out of 300 men who made the charge. The
survivors fell back sullenly behind a fence, within easy range of the
Confederate rifle pits. Just before reaching it the last of the
color-guard was shot, and the flag fell in the open. A Captain, Perry,
instantly ran out to rescue it, and, as he reached it, was shot through
the heart; another Captain, Murray, made the same attempt, and was also
killed; and so was a third, Moore. Several private soldiers met a like
fate. They were all killed close to the flag, and their dead bodies fell
across one another. Taking advantage of this breastwork Lieutenant
Nettleton crawled from behind the fence to the colors, and bore back the
blood-won trophy.

Another took place at Gaines Mill, where Gregg's 1st South Carolina
formed part of the attacking force. The resistance was desperate, and
the fury of the assault unsurpassed. At one point it fell to the lot of
this regiment to bear the brunt of carrying a certain strong position.
Moving forward at a run, the South-Carolinians were swept by a fierce
and searching fire. Young James Taylor, a lad of sixteen, was carrying
the flag, and was killed after being shot down three times, twice ri