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these questions were speedily answered by General Stuart.
The beautiful girl of seventeen, and herce, and song were to while away the hours --so Stuart sent for three members of his military househo admiration.
The guitar continues to roar and Stuart's laughter mingles with it; the ventriloquist r, and I think I can recall a few words of General Stuart, too. He had been busily engaged with his at of a poor boy of my command, madam, replied Stuart, who was shot and killed on picket the other dthe elder a look of unmistakable sympathy.
Stuart then gave an account of the fight; and his voi boy — the ladies were fairly conquered.
When Stuart gallantly accompanied them to the door, and boin death!
I have made this little sketch of Stuart at Camp Qui Vive for those who like the undreshe outpost as you followed me, the gay face of Stuart; heard his laughter as he called for the MockiQui Vive, or any other camp, will the laugh of Stuart ring out joyous and free.
He is gone-but live
ave fought and bled and conquered on so many battle-fields that memory grows weary almost of recalling their achievements.
Gathering around Jackson in the old days of 186 , when Patterson confronted Johnston in the Valley of the Shenandoah-when Stuart was a simple Colonel, and Ashby only a Captain — they held in check an enemy twenty times their number, and were moulded by their great commander into that Spartan phalanx which no Federal bayonet could break.
They were boys and old men; the heiewall Jackson's way.
The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning, and, by George, There's Longstreet struggling in the lists, Hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his Yankees whipped before- Bay'net and Grape!
hear Stonewall roar, Charge, Stuart!
Pay off Ashby's score!
That's Stonewall Jackson's way!
Lastly, hear how the singer at the camp fire, in sight of the firs of the Blue Ridge and the waters of the Shenandoah, indulges in a wild outburst in honour of his chief: