o doubt Eric was sorry he had been frightened by the bad omen.

May 10, 1796, Napoleon carried the bridge at Lodi, in the face of the
Austrian batteries. Fourteen cannon--some accounts say thirty--were
trained upon the French end of the structure. Behind them were six
thousand troops. Napoleon massed four thousand grenadiers at the head
of the bridge, with a battalion of three hundred carbineers in front.
At the tap of the drum the foremost assailants wheeled from the cover
of the street wall under a terrible hail of grape and canister, and
attempted to pass the gateway to the bridge. The front ranks went down
like stalks of grain before a reaper; the column staggered and reeled
backward, and the valiant grenadiers were appalled by the task before
them. Without a word or a look of reproach, Napoleon placed himself at
their head, and his aids and generals rushed to his side. Forward
again, this time over heaps of dead that choked the passage, and a
quick run, counted by seconds only, carried the column across two
hundred yards of clear space, scarcely a shot from the Austrians taking
effect beyond the point where the platoons wheeled for the first leap.
So sudden and so miraculous was it all that the Austrian artillerists
abandoned their guns instantly, and their supports fled in a panic
instead of rushing to the front and meeting the French onslaught. This
Napoleon had counted on in making the bold attack. The contrast
between Napoleon's slight figure and the massive grenadiers suggested
the nickname "Little Corporal."

The great secret of the success of Joan of Arc was the boldness of her
attacks.

When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of base assailants, and
they asked him in derision, "Where is now your fortress?" "Here," was
his bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart.

It was after the Mexican War when General McClellan was employed as a
topographical engineer in surveying the Pacific coast. From his
headquarters at Vancouver he had gone south to the Columbia River with
two companions, a soldier and a servant. One evening he received word
that the chiefs of the Columbia River tribes desired to confer with
him. From the messenger's manner he suspected that the Indians meant
mischief. He warned his companions that they must be ready to leave
camp at a moment's notice. Mounting his horse, he rode boldly into the
Indian village. About thirty chiefs were holding council. McClellan
was led i