they smile sarcastically at them. You see men who tell you that they have been in a dozen battles, and were licked and chased every time-they would like to chase once to see how it feels.' This begins to tell painfully on them. Their splendid qualities their patience, faith, hope, courage, are gradually oozing out. Certainly never were a graver, gloomier, more sober, sombre, serious, and unmusical body of men than the Army of the Potomac at the present time. It is a saddening contrast with a year ago."

The condition of affairs in the Southern army was strongly in contrast with this; and perhaps the Confederate authorities never had at their disposal a more effective force. The ranks had filled up since the Maryland campaign; the men were well rationed and tolerably clothed, and the result of the battle of Fredericksburg, in which about 25,000 troops (if so many) had repulsed about 75,000, had greatly elated them. The present writer never remembers seeing the army in gayer spirits, and the correspondent of the London "Times," who saw them in the winter of 1862, speaks of the "wonderful spirits of the tatterdemalion regiments of the South." The same writer adds:

"It is a strange thing to look at these men, so ragged, slovenly, sleeveless, without a superfluous ounce of flesh upon their bones, with wild matted hair, in mendicants' rags, and to think when the battle-flag goes to the front how they can and do fight. There is only one attitude in which I never should be ashamed of your seeing my men, and that is when they are fighting.' These were General Lee's words to me the first time I ever saw him; they have been confirmed by every other distinguished officer in the Confederacy."

The Southern troops found at this time a still greater admirer in the editor of the Washington "Republican,” a journal of strong Northern sentiment; and especial commendation was bestowed upon the Virginians:

"If there has been any decadence of the manly virtues in the Old Dominion," said this writer, "it is not because the present generation has proved itself either weak or cowardly or unequal

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to the greatest emergencies. No people, with so few numbers, ever put into the field and kept there so long, troops more numerous, brave, or more efficient, or produced Generals of more merit, in all the kinds and grades of military talent. It is not a worn-out, effete race which has produced Lee, Johnston, Jackson, Ashby, and Stuart. It is not a worn-out and effete race which, for two years, has defended its capital against the approach of an enemy close upon their borders, and outnumbering them thirty to one. It is not a worn-out and effete race which has preserved substantial popular unity under all the straits and pressure and sacrifices of this unprecedented war. Let history,' as was said of another race, which records their unhappy fate as a people, do justice to their rude virtues as men.' They are fighting madly in a bad cause, but they are fighting bravely. They have few cowards and no traitors. The hardships of war are endured without a murmur by all classes, and the dangers of war without flinching, by the newest conscripts; while their gentry, the offshoot of their popular social system, have thrown themselves into the camp and field with all the dash and high spirit of the European noblesse of the middle ages, risking, without apparent concern, upon a desperate adventure, all that men value; and after a generation of peace and repose and security, which had not emasculated them, presenting to their enemies a trained and intrepid front, as of men born and bred to war."

CHAPTER XXX.

JACKSON AT FREDERICKSBURG.

WE pass now from the narrative of great public events to a few personal details of Jackson at the period of the battle of Fredericksburg.

Those who served in the Army of Northern Virginia at the time in question will not soon forget the effect produced upon the

troops by the intelligence that Jackson had arrived with his invincible corps, and was ready to take part in any movement which occurred. The presence of the great soldier seemed to infuse new strength and confidence into every heart; and wherever he passed the woods reëchoed with cheers in his honor. He was then ascending to the summit of his fame, and the hearts of the men went forth to greet him with an affection and admiration amounting to enthusiasm.

On the evening of his arrival he had thrown himself upon the ground, under a tree, and was warming himself by the camp-fire, when an excellent lady, living near at hand, sent him an invitation to come and sup with the family. His presence had been discovered from a soldier, who asked permission to draw water from the well "for General Jackson "—to which the good lady responded: "Tell General Jackson that every thing in this house belongs to him."

The General speedily appeared in response to the invitation, and evidently enjoyed his conversation with the lady of the mansion with the keenest relish. The only significant circumstance connected with the incident was the character of this lady. She was not young, brilliant, and amusing, but very old, gray-haired, and known throughout the whole region for her unassuming goodness and devoted piety. In her society, Jackson seemed to experience an inexpressible charm-to rest his brain and his heart, as with his sweet and modest smile he sat and listened to the simple friendly accents. His countenance was full of quiet pleasure as he talked with the aged lady, and in spite of his long day's march he nearly lost sight of his supper in continuing the conversation.

Both are now dead; but they must have met again beyond the stars.

When the enemy's intended advance was ascertained, Jackson's forces moved silently to their position, and the men began to look out for their favorite, in order to cheer him as he rode along the line. Strange to say, no sound was heard in any direc tion, and one of the men said:

"Why don't old Jack come along, I wonder?"

"Why, he passed by a quarter of an hour ago," was the reply of a brother soldier.

"Old Jack!" exclaimed the first, "he pass by!"

"Yes, didn't you see him with his staff?"

"What!" ejaculated the soldier with an accent demanding at least three exclamation points," that finely-dressed fellow that went by here, Old Jack! No, sir! You can't fool me in that way!"

But Jackson had really passed, and the troops had not recognized him, from a very simple circumstance. He had doffed his old coat soiled with dirt and scorched by the sun, to appear in a new uniform-for him of the most gorgeous description. It consisted of the new coat presented to him by General Stuart in the Valley; a superb new overcoat of dark-blue cloth, with an ample cavalry cape; and a new cap, in the shape of his old cadet cap worn in so many battles, but, unlike the former, shining with gold braid which was resplendent in contrast with the dark cloth. It was no wonder that the troops did not recognize him in this unwonted finery. The old uniform had seemed to them to be a part of him, and the new was by no means to their liking.

Jackson's position during the battle was for the greater portion of the time near or in front of Colonel Walker's artillery on the hill above Hamilton's crossing, where his right was posted. Here the fire of the enemy's guns was exceedingly hot, and Jackson, like the rest, dismounted and lay down to protect himself from the storm of shell which swept the crest. He was soon on horseback again, however, and moving to every portion of the field. It was in the latter part of the day that, while hurrying to another part of the line, he directed an officer to order his artillery on the hill, then swept by projectiles, to move forward, and added coolly:

"Captain, if you and your horse come out alive, tell General Stuart that I am going to advance my whole line at sunset.”

At this period of the action, Jackson exhibited unwonted excitement. Despite his collected bearing, it was evident from his

rapid movements from point to point, and a flush in his cheeks, that his whole soul was aroused, and his brain on fire with the thought that he would be able to drive the enemy with the bayonet beyond the river. Even, however, at this moment, when his resolution was taken, and his nature stirred to its depths, his soldierly courtesy did not desert him. To the salutes which he received, he responded as carefully, with the finger to the cap, as if he had been on parade.

An affecting incident is related by a friend who shared his bed on the night of the battle; and it is here given as we received it from him. About midnight, Jackson's tent-mate, who had not yet fallen asleep, saw the soldier rise, dress, and go to his desk. He lit his candle, and, placing some books on end, so as to conceal the light from the supposed sleeper's eyes, began to work. From work he passed to reflection, and his friend said, suddenly:

"What are you thinking of, General?"

"Oh! are you awake?" was his reply; "I was thinking of the battle to-morrow, and that the balls will be hotter on the hill by the crossing than to-day."

As they were conversing, the sound of horse's hoofs was heard approaching; the noise ceased, and an orderly came into the tent.

"Who is that?" asked Jackson.

"Somebody from General Gregg, sir."

"Tell him to come in."

An officer appeared at the opening, and, saluting Jackson, said:

"General Gregg is dying, General, and sent me to say to you that he wrote you a letter recently in which he used expressions he is now sorry for. He says that he meant no disrespect by that letter, and was only doing what he considered to be his duty. He hopes you will forgive him."

Jackson listened to these words in silence, but it was evident

* Colonel A. R. Boteler-our authority for this incident.