ow strange contrasts in the careers of
individual men, men who at one time acted well and nobly, and at another
time ill and basely. The ugly truths must not be blinked, and the
lessons they teach should be set forth by every historian, and learned
by every statesman and soldier; but, for our good fortune, the lessons
best worth learning in the nation's past are lessons of heroism.

From immemorial time 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 may be mentioned as 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 one hundred and eighty-six out of three
hundred men who made the charge. The survivors fell sullenly back 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, seized them, 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 rising
and struggling onward with the colors. The third time he fell the flag
was seized by George Cotchet, and when he, in turn,