children--and also the unyielding spirit and inflexible courage of
our Southern people. Those dispositions were manifested on both sides
throughout the whole war. It is unnecessary to say that feeling ran
high on the border, as elsewhere, and everyone was anxious to display
his colors in order to show to the world how his feelings ran.
Confederate flags waved from many housetops along the border, and
on the morning the Federals crossed the Potomac from Washington to
Alexandria, many little pieces of bunting, displaying stars and bars,
floated from the houses in that old sleeping city of Alexandria.
Among that number was a violent Secessionist named Jackson. Colonel
Ellsworth, commanding the New York Zouaves, the advance guard, ordered
all flags with Confederate devices to be torn down by force. The
soldiers thus engaged in the debasing acts of entering private
dwellings, insulting the inmates with the vilest epithets, ruthlessly
tore down the hated emblems of the South everywhere. When they came to
Jackson's house they met the fiery defender of his home on the landing
of the stairs, rifle in hand, who with determined air informed the
Federal soldiers that whoever lowered his flag would meet instant
death. Staggered and dazed by such a determined spirit, they lost no
time in reporting the fact to Colonel Ellsworth. Enraged beyond all
control by this cool impudence, Ellsworth rushed to Jackson's house,
followed by a squad of soldiers. On reaching the landing he, too, met
Jackson with his eyes flashing fire and determination, his whole
frame trembling with the emotion he felt, his rifle cocked and to his
shoulder, boldly declaring, "Whoever tears down that flag, dies in his
tracks." Ellsworth and party thought this threat could not be real,
and only Southern braggadocio. Brushing past the determined hero,
Ellsworth snatched the hated flag from its fastening, but at that
instant he fell dead at the feet of his adversary. The report of
Jackson's rifle told too plainly that he had kept his word. The