the torturous mountain passes without halt or rest, bending all their energies to meet Beauregard upon the plains of Manassas.  Couriers came on foaming steeds, their bloody sides showing the impress of the riders’ spurs, bringing the glad tidings to the Army of the Potomac that succor was near.  Beauregard was busy with the disposition of his troops, preparing to give battle, while the soldiers worked with a will erecting some hasty breastworks.

At this point I will digress for the moment to relate an incident of the Federal march, to show the brutal cowardice and baseness of the Federals in making war upon the non-combatants—­women and 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 soldiers who had followed and witnessed the death of their commander, riddled the body of the Southern martyr with bullets, and not satisfied with his death, mutilated his body beyond recognition.  Thus fell the first martyr to Southern principles.  The South never showed this disposition of hatred on any occasion, for in after years while marching through Pennsylvania Union flags floated unmolested from housetops, over towns, and cities.  The soldiers only laughed and ridiculed the stars and stripes.  The South feared no display of sentiment, neither did they insult women and non-combatants.