Memories | Page 9

young eyes the new flag seemed an emblem of glory. Young hearts
glowed with pride as often as they looked upon it. The story of the
eventful hour when it first replaced the "stars and stripes" and floated
over the capitol building in full view of the whole city, hailed by
acclamations from many thousand voices, is still told with pride by the
citizens of Richmond.
The moment it was known that Virginia had passed the ordinance of
secession, the cheering, enthusiastic crowd which had for hours
surrounded Mechanics' Institute, made a rush for the State-House to
"haul down" the old flag, and run up the "stars and bars." Upon making
the attempt, it was found impossible to move the United States flag,
some one having either nailed or driven it with staples to the staff. Two
boys, burning with zeal, started for the cupola to cut loose the flag. One

of these, although a lad of eighteen, was a member of the Richmond
Howitzers. Hoping to outstrip the other, he climbed hand over hand up
the lightning-rod. Just as he reached the goal of his ambition, however,
the staples securing the rod pulled out and the boy was left swaying
back and forth in mid-air, while the crowd upon the top of the capitol
and on the ground below looked on in horror. The lightning-rod was
one of the old-fashioned sort, and more than an inch in diameter. One
after another the staples gave way under the weight. The rod swayed
gently back and forth as if uncertain which way to fall, but finally
lurching towards the up-town side. Every one expected that the lad
would be so disconcerted and appalled when he struck the edge of the
roof, that he would be unable to look out for his own safety. One of the
party resolved to attempt a rescue, although by so doing his own life
would be endangered. Throwing himself flat on the roof like a bat, he
slid down headforemost to the gutter, which, fortunately, was very
wide. Placing himself on his back in this gutter so as to be able to arrest
the other poor boy in his fall, he waited until the lightning-rod struck
the roof, then called out loudly, "Let go; I'll catch you." The boy
obeyed, and as he slipped down the roof in an almost unconscious
condition, his rescuer in the gutter grasped and held him until he
recovered his self-possession, when both pulled off their shoes and
climbed the steep roof to the skylight. Both boys were gallant soldiers,
but perhaps neither was ever again in greater danger than when excess
of patriotism cost the one that hazardous ride on the lightning-rod, the
other to assume the equally dangerous but noble position of rescuer.
Both are still living,--veterans now. One, occupying a position of honor
and of public trust, is a personal friend of the writer.
To me the Confederate flag was an object of profound love and
passionate devotion. It represented hopes that I thought could never fail,
possibilities so glorious that imagination was dazzled. I used to go to
the square before sunrise, leading my little boy, trying vainly to make
him understand and share in some degree my own enthusiasm, but
instead he only busied himself in trying to steal near enough to pounce
upon one of the many little birds flitting from spray to spray with
happy songs. Approaching the beautiful monument where the statues

are so lifelike as to appear real companions, sentient and cognizant of
one's presence, I chose always a seat where I could gaze upon the face
of Patrick Henry, recalling his stirring words, trying to imagine what he
would have thought and said now, and almost daring to wish that soul
of fire might come, if only for a moment, to animate the cold form; that
the silent lips might speak, the eyes look upward to where the breeze of
morning stirred the sacred flag which my own heart saluted. Lingering
thus until the first rays of the sun came to glorify its waving folds, I
drank in deep draughts of patriotism and love for the holy cause, sweet,
inspiring, elevating; a tonic powerful and lasting in its effects, bracing
mind and soul to persevere in the course I had marked out for myself,
to tread unfalteringly a path beset by difficulties then undreamed of.
Not long afterward the capitol square became forever sacred to
Southern hearts; for here, standing upon the steps of the beautiful
monument, beneath the bronze statue of George Washington, the first
President of the Southern Confederacy took upon himself the solemn
vows of office, and at the same time the stirring airs of "Dixie" and
"The Bonnie Blue Flag" received the stamp of nationality. Ah! then
how overwhelming