wildly through the
streets, endangering itself and everyone that crosses its course. Man
is also prone to take flight under the pressure of fear for his life.
Unlike the horse, he controls his actions by reason, more or less. But
to fly from danger is, in most circumstances, allowable to the
civilian, under the law of self-preservation. He can run away without
any hurt to his self-esteem, or any risk of being called a coward.

It is a crime for a soldier on the field to turn his back on danger.
Of course there is nothing despicable in a retirement under orders
when faced with overwhelming odds. We can see Wellington at Salamanca,
caught in the _melee_ of a British flight before a dashing charge of
French cavalry--as Maxwell saw him, "With his straight sword drawn,
riding at full speed, and smiling." He fled that he might live, and
win the battle. But the soldier must stand firm when the shells are
bursting terrifically around him and the bullets whistle their death
tune in his ears, or advance undauntedly towards the hidden enemy, who
thus menace him with death and mutilation, until a command or a
bullet stops him.

Yet even in the soldier to shrink from pain, danger and death is a
natural impulse, for it is one of the instincts of which no amount of
training and discipline can entirely divest humanity. President
Abraham Lincoln was very reluctant to sanction the execution of
soldiers for cowardice during the American Civil War. He used to say
it was impossible for a man always to control his legs. "How do I
know," he would ask, "that I should not run away myself?" Happily
there are things which help to sustain and embolden the soldier in
that terrible trial. Some of these enheartening influences are
external to the soldier himself. His country's cause and the
reputation of his regiment help to brace him for the ordeal. The
companionship of his comrades in a common danger and the fury and
tumult of battle are also very animating. But in the last resort the
soldier must rely upon his own innate qualities, both mental and
physical. For bravery lies in the blood, and courage in the mind, and
valour is the combination of the often thoughtless fire and dash of
the one, and the calculated enterprise and determination of the other.

Bearing these considerations always in mind, let us never cast the
contumelious stone, or say a bitter word, against any regiment, or
party of men, who in war are overborne by the black terror