, A good old Rebel, the hero thus vaunts his brief but glorious annals:
I followed old Mars' Robert For four year, near about; Got wounded in three places And starved at Pint Lookout.
Again, why Marse Robert?
The passion of soldiers for nicknaming their favorite leaders, re-christening them according to their unfettered fancy and their own sweet will, is well known.
The little corporal, The iron Duke, Marshall forwards, Bobs, Bobs Bahadur, Little Mac, Little Phil, Fighting Joe, Stonewall, Old Jack, Old Pete, Old Jube, Jubilee, Rooney, Fitz, Marse Robert --all these and many more are familiar.
There is something grotesque about most of them and in many, seemingly, rank disrespect.
Yet the habit has never been regarded as a violation of military law, and the commanding general of an army, if a staunch fighter, and particularly if victory often perches on his banner, is very apt to win the noways doubtful compliment of this rough and ready knighthood from his devoted troop
As I have always understood, he passed safely through the war and followed the men of his battery to Georgia.
Stonewall was a remarkable little animal.
It was surprising that he was not lost or killed in action, especially when we had to ck out of pine bark, and must of necessity be always doing something, even if it were but training a puppy.
Van taught Stonewall to attend roll-call, and to sit up on his haunches, next to him, on the advanced rank of non-commissioned officers, andween his teeth.
Then when the orderly sergeant, before beginning the roll, called Pipes out!
Van would stoop and slip Stonewall's pipe from his mouth to his left paw, which would then instantly drop to his side with the other, and the little corpould stand, or sit, stiffly and staunchly in the position of a soldier, eyes front, until the company was dismissed.
Stonewall was stolen from us several times by Harry Hayes' brigade, his Louisiana Creoles having the ungovernable passion of the