the aim of the Mexicans was
anything but accurate, and in twenty-four hours the American troops
were pushing forward up the hillside, through a grove full of
sharpshooters, over rocks and gullies, even over mines, which the
Mexicans had no chance to set off. Cannon roared and volleys of
musketry were fired at the assailants, but they dashed over the
redoubt, up, still up, to the escarpment, and over it they tumbled.
Meanwhile the Mexicans were standing on the city walls and peering out
from the spires of the cathedral. They saw, as the Americans pushed on
and up, the Stars and Stripes appear, now to the right, now to the
left, as point after point was taken. Now the Americans had reached
the main works. The scaling-ladders were planted and the men scrambled
over the wall. Even then the Mexicans were not without a faint hope,
for their banner still floated over the highest pinnacle. Suddenly it
disappeared, and the Stars and Stripes took its place. The victory had
been won. On the second day after the first gun was fired at
Chapultepec, the American troops were following their flag into the
City of Mexico.

The Civil War began with the firing upon Fort Sumter. Shot came in a
whirlwind, half a score of balls at a time. The woodwork blazed, the
brick and stone flew in all directions. Red-hot balls from the furnace
in Moultrie dashed down like a pitiless hailstorm. The barracks were
ablaze, streams of fire burst out of the quarters. Ninety barrels of
powder were rolled into the water lest it should explode in the awful
heat. The men were stifled with fumes from the burning buildings. Over
the horrors of this attack the Stars and Stripes floated serenely from
the staff, flashing out, as each gust of wind tossed the clouds of
smoke aside for a moment, the glories of the red, white, and blue,
clear and calm and unscathed.

Beams fell with a crash, ammunition in one magazine exploded, black
clouds of smoke filled the fort, and for hours the men covered their
faces with wet cloths to keep from suffocating. Nine times the
flagstaff was struck by a shot, and at the ninth the flag fell.
Lieutenant Hall dashed into the storm of balls, caught up the flag,
and brought it away. The halyards were cut and tangled. The flag could
not be raised, but it was nailed to the staff, and in the midst of the
incessant fire, Sergeant Peter Hart fastened it up on the ramparts.
The fort surrendered, but not the flag; for as Major Anderson and his