Jackson, is dead. The memory of his high worth, conspicuous virtues, and momentous services will be treasured in the heart, and excite the pride of his country to all time. His renown is already identified with our revolution; and even our enemy admits his unselfish devotion to our cause, and admires his eminent qualities.

"The Commanding Generals of the First Military District and of the District of Georgia, on the day following the receipt of this order, will cause a gun to be fired every half hour, beginning at sunrise and ending at sunset; and the flags of every post in the department will be hoisted at half-mast in token of this national bereavement."

The intelligence reached Richmond on the evening of the 10th, and created profound depression among all classes of citizens. On the morning of the 11th it was announced that the remains of the soldier would reach Richmond that afternoon in a special train sent by the Governor of Virginia, and the Mayor of the city requested all persons to suspend business after ten o'clock in token of respect for the dead. All stores, workshops, the departments of Government, and all places in which labor was performed were closed. Flags were suspended at half-mast, a deep silence reigned in the streets, and in spite of the intense heat large crowds remained for hours at the Fredericksburg depot, waiting for the arrival of the train.

About four in the evening, amid a painful silence, only broken by the tolling of the bells, the train reached Richmond with its burden. The coffin was placed in a hearse, behind which was stationed the General's staff, and preceded by General Elzey and his staff, the State Guard of Virginia, and two regiments of infantry, moved through crowds of citizens to the Governor's house.

The body was laid in the reception-room of the mansion, the coffin-lid having been raised so as to show the person of the dead; a wreath of laurel was laid upon the breast, and around the coffin was wrapped the snow-white banner of the Confederate States.

That banner had been just adopted, and had never yet been raised. It was thus first used to wrap the dead body of the man who had fought so well for the land over which it was to float.

"The face of the dead," says a writer in one of the journals, "displayed the same indomitable lines of firmness, with the long, slightly aquiline nose, and high forehead, of marble whiteness; but the cheeks presented a deep pallor. The eyelids were firmly closed, the mouth natural, and the whole contour of the face composed, the full beard and mustache remaining. The body was dressed in a full citizen's suit, it being the object of his friends, and we doubt not the nation's wish, to preserve the uniform in which he fought and fell."

During the evening a few friends and the officers of government were admitted, also some members of Jackson's old brigade. It is said that President Davis stood long by the body, gazed at the pallid face with deep emotion, and then turned away and left the house in silence. A more affecting incident was the appearance of an old soldier of the Stonewall Brigade. The veteran stood for some moments looking at the pale face of his General with tears in his eyes, then bending down pressed a kiss upon the lips, and slowly retired.

During the night the body was embalmed, a plaster cast of the features taken, and the corpse was placed in a metallic coffin. On the next day a great and solemn pageant marked the universal sense of loss.

A great procession was formed, and at the hour appointed the coffin was borne to the hearse; a signal gun was fired from the equestrian statue of Washington on the square; and to the solemn strains of the "Dead March in Saul," the procession began to move. The hearse was drawn by four white horses, and preceded by two regiments of Pickett's division and the State Guard of Virginia, with arms reversed, General Pickett and his staff, the Fayette artillery, and a squadron of cavalry. Behind came Generals Ewell, Winder, Churchill, Corse, Steuart, Kemper, Garnett, and Admiral Forrest-pall-bearers. These

were followed by the horse of the dead soldier caparisoned for battle, and led by his body-servant; his staff; members of the Old Stonewall Brigade with sorrowful and downcast looks; General Elzey and his staff; and then a vast array of government officials, the President, members of the Cabinet, the Governor of Virginia, the city authorities, with the judges, citizens, and good people generally-a silent and sorrowful multitude.

The procession moved down Governor's Street and up to the head of Main Street, whence it returned to the western gate of the Capitol Square, where a great concourse had assembled to see it enter. Sobs had accompanied it upon its way, the tears not only of women but of bearded men; such public grief had not been displayed since the death of Washington.

Thus amid tolling bells, the discharge of artillery at intervals, and the mournful strains of martial music, the long procession reached the Capitol Square. Here it halted, and the hearse moved to the western entrance of the capitol, accompanied only by the pall-bearers, general officers, and the public guard. In the midst of a great crowd of weeping women and children, with the thunder of artillery, and the mournful music of the bands filling the air, the coffin was then lifted from the hearse and borne into the capitol. The Hall of the House of Representatives had been draped in mourning, Confederate standards folded along the face of the galleries, and here in front of the speaker's chair, on a species of altar covered with white linen looped up with crape, the coffin was deposited.

The face and bust were then uncovered, and the crowd was admitted to gaze upon the features. Throughout the afternoon multitudes continued to come and go, old men and youths, women and children—all taking a sorrowful look at the placid features of the illustrious dead. When night came, 20,000 persons had thus passed in front of the body.

From the capitol the remains of Jackson were borne, under military escort, to Lexington, where they were received by General Smith, the corps of cadets, the professors, and a large

body of citizens. They were escorted in solemn procession to the barracks of the Institute, and deposited in the old lectureroom of the deceased. The room was just as he had left it two years before, as no one had occupied it during his absence; but it had been draped in mourning. The coffin was placed in front of the dead man's favorite chair, and amid the roar of the old cadet battery, heard at intervals of half an hour throughout the day, the body of the soldier lay in state in the familiar hall.

It was thus that he had returned to the beloved spot where he had passed so many happy hours in other years, and to which his thoughts went back in those last moments when he murmured:

"Bury me in Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia!"

"Lexington!" That town had witnessed the peaceful labors of the professor; the calm researches of the quiet student; the serene enjoyments of the good husband and friend. Thence he had departed to enter upon the career which was to make his name renowned forever in the annals of a tragic epoch-to crown him with glory and honor as the right arm and chief hope of a great people. He murmured "Lexington! Lexing ton!" as the German exile murmurs "the Rhine! Rhine!"

the

"The Valley of Virginia!" Those words too had, doubtless, a magical influence upon the stern soul of the celebrated leader. They conjured up visions of his chief glories won upon that old familiar, long loved soil. They meant Kernstown! McDowell! Winchester! Cross Keys! Port Republic! There was scarce a foot of the great highways of that region but had been trodden by him and his soldiers; scarce a mile over which he had not fought. There his steps had been clogged with battles, and almost every encounter was a victory. For that sacred earth he had fought so long and persistently; thence he had so frequently driven the invaders; every foot was dear to him from the mouth of the beautiful Shenandoah to its source; and for its freedom he had cheerfully risked all that man possesses. He had delivered that lovely land from all its foes;

and, lying powerless there near Fredericksburg, his heart turned fondly to the scene of his happiness and his fame. In that earth which he had redeemed-the soil of the Valley of Virginia—he desired his ashes to repose.

There they were accordingly deposited. Escorted by infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and borne to the grave upon a caisson of the old cadet battery, as became the great artillerist, they were consigned to the beloved earth where reposed the bodies of his first wife and child.

It is said that some loving hand planted on his grave a piece of laurel brought from the grave of Napoleon at St. Helenathus connecting, as it were, by an invisible link, the man of Austerlitz with the victor of Port Republic and Chancellorsville.

Both returned in the moments of delirium to the battle-field; but whilst Napoleon died with that fierce cry, "Tête d'Armée!" upon his lips, Jackson fell asleep in a childlike dream of rivers and green trees. Napoleon trusted in his "Star"-Jackson in God. The former was a simple fatalist; the motto of the Virginian was, "Do your duty and trust to Providence.”

"It is all right," was the other motto of Jackson-and he clung to it even in death. Let us, too, trust that all is well, and look beyond the storm with serene trust in Him who rules the destinies of men and nations.

CHAPTER XL.

JACKSON THE SOLDIER AND THE MAN.

We have presented in the foregoing pages as truthful a record of the events of Jackson's career, as the material at our command permitted. It is impossible that the main occurrences have not been understood, or that the reader has not formed a tolerably clear idea of the military and personal traits of the in