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Lexington, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
Stonewall Jackson in Lexington, Va. [Anything that throws light on the life and character of the model infantryman is worth preserving in these pages, and we therefore publish the following letters — the first from an old student of Washington College, and the second from J. D. Davidson, Esq., of Lexington]: My first recollection of Stonewall Jackson is when I was a college-boy at Lexington, Va., in the fall of 1860. I am not able to say whether it was the peculiar carriage of the stiff, military-looking Institute professor, who daily passed the college grounds, that was of chief interest to the students of Washington College, or whether the sell Of bloody struggles past and gone, The children at their knees shall hear How Jackson led his columns on. G. H. M. Cloverlick, W. Va., February 16, 1880. Lexington, Va., August 16, 1876. Ed. Lexington Gazette,--In the spring of 1858, T. J. Jackson, then a professor in the Virginia Military Institute, at Lexington, Va.--now
Churubusco (Indiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
boarding-house. I shall never forget the impression his manner and appearance made upon me. Boy as I was, I looked upon him with a reverential awe. I had heard the stories of his struggles in early life; of how he had walked from his house in Lewis county to Washington to receive his appointment as a cadet to West Point; of his being ill prepared, and the difficulty he had in keeping up with his classes; and then I had heard of his brilliant career in Mexico, of his mounting the walls of Cherubusco with. the American flag in his hands; and here now was the hero of my youthful enthusiasm before me. He was so different from what I thought a hero ought to be! There was so little animation, no grace, no enthusiasm. All was stiffness and awkwardness. He sat perfectly erect, his back touching the back of the chair nowhere; the large hands were spread out, one on each knee, while the large feet, sticking out at an exact right angle to the leg (the angle seeming to have been determined w
West Point (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
as the son-in-law of their college president, Rev. George Junkin. My first meeting with General Jackson in the social circle was one evening, when he called to see a friend at our boarding-house. I shall never forget the impression his manner and appearance made upon me. Boy as I was, I looked upon him with a reverential awe. I had heard the stories of his struggles in early life; of how he had walked from his house in Lewis county to Washington to receive his appointment as a cadet to West Point; of his being ill prepared, and the difficulty he had in keeping up with his classes; and then I had heard of his brilliant career in Mexico, of his mounting the walls of Cherubusco with. the American flag in his hands; and here now was the hero of my youthful enthusiasm before me. He was so different from what I thought a hero ought to be! There was so little animation, no grace, no enthusiasm. All was stiffness and awkwardness. He sat perfectly erect, his back touching the back of th
Lewis County (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
reasons for fearing the austerity of his manner, but who knew him as the son-in-law of their college president, Rev. George Junkin. My first meeting with General Jackson in the social circle was one evening, when he called to see a friend at our boarding-house. I shall never forget the impression his manner and appearance made upon me. Boy as I was, I looked upon him with a reverential awe. I had heard the stories of his struggles in early life; of how he had walked from his house in Lewis county to Washington to receive his appointment as a cadet to West Point; of his being ill prepared, and the difficulty he had in keeping up with his classes; and then I had heard of his brilliant career in Mexico, of his mounting the walls of Cherubusco with. the American flag in his hands; and here now was the hero of my youthful enthusiasm before me. He was so different from what I thought a hero ought to be! There was so little animation, no grace, no enthusiasm. All was stiffness and awk
Winchester, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
eyes sparkling with the expectation of military glory awaiting them. Poor boyslittle did they know, as they stood there in their bright uniforms, and with their bright guns shining in the morning sunlight, how few of them would be left to answer at the last roll-call of the Army of Northern Virginia. As they stood thus, Major Jackson, mounted on an ordinary-looking horse, rode up. His face was as calm and unmoved as ever, the thin lips tightly compressed, and looking just as he looked at Kernstown and Manassas. Riding up to the side of an elderly-looking gentleman in clerical cloth, standing in front of the main entrance to the institute, Major Jackson wheeled his horse, and facing his battalion as he raised his cap, said, Let us pray. The venerable Dr. White, pastor of the Presbyterian church, then stepped forward, and baring his gray locks to the sun, poured forth a feeling prayer. It was a memorable scene! Just as the clergyman pronounced the Amen, Jackson wheeled his horse,
Rockbridge (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
ior, was a vein of the most exquisite sentiment. In the soul of the man was that magnetism which attracted and that power which controlled and made him the master of his fellowmen. In after days, when I saw the uplifting of his dusty cap excite the wildest enthusiasm among his veteran legions, I knew whence the power emanated. The next time I heard Jackson talk was in a political meeting one night in the town of Lexington. It was during the memorable presidential canvass of 1860. Rockbridge county was a staid old Whig community. The majority of Democrats, under the leadership of Governor Letcher, supported Douglass. The Breckinridge men had a small force. The leading spirits of this faction called a meeting one evening at the court-house. It was a small gathering, and when the two leaders, Colonel Massie and Frank Paxton, had reported their resolutions, a voice from the rear part of the building, in a quick, decisive tone, was heard to call out, Mr. Chairman. All eyes were
Jackson (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
of fifteen minutes he reviewed the resolutions, endorsed them, spoke of the dangers threatening the South, the duty of taking a firm stand, and then sat down. He displayed one quality of an orator not always exhibited by political speakers; when he was done he quit. The Frank Paxton spoken of in this connection, went out the next spring as a lieutenant in the Rockbridge Riflemen, and when he was killed at Chancellorsville, held the position of brigadier-general, and fell at the head of Jackson's old Stonewall brigade. His was as dauntless a spirit as that of his old commander, and they are quietly sleeping together in the Lexington cemetery. At the request of a young friend in the town of Lexington, who expected to be absent several weeks, I agreed to supply his place temporarily as a teacher in the colored Sunday school. Accordingly on the next Sabbath afternoon I repaired to the lecture-room of the Presbyterian church. I found the room well filled with colored children, w
Chancellorsville (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
going to say, and consequently the strictest attention was paid. In a speech of fifteen minutes he reviewed the resolutions, endorsed them, spoke of the dangers threatening the South, the duty of taking a firm stand, and then sat down. He displayed one quality of an orator not always exhibited by political speakers; when he was done he quit. The Frank Paxton spoken of in this connection, went out the next spring as a lieutenant in the Rockbridge Riflemen, and when he was killed at Chancellorsville, held the position of brigadier-general, and fell at the head of Jackson's old Stonewall brigade. His was as dauntless a spirit as that of his old commander, and they are quietly sleeping together in the Lexington cemetery. At the request of a young friend in the town of Lexington, who expected to be absent several weeks, I agreed to supply his place temporarily as a teacher in the colored Sunday school. Accordingly on the next Sabbath afternoon I repaired to the lecture-room of th
Institute Hill (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.6
war-spirit was at fever heat in Virginia. The steady-going old town of Lexington had suddenly been metamorphosed into a bustling military camp. Volunteer companies were being organized, and every preparation being made for a horrible war. But no event of that memorable period has left a more vivid impression upon my mind than the departure of the Cadet battalion from the Military Institute. It was a bright Sabbath morning, early in May, and a vast concourse of people had gathered on Institute Hill to see the youthful soldiers start for the war. The baggage and camp equipage had been put into the wagons, the horses hitched in, the drivers mounted, with whip in hand, waiting for the command to pull out. The cadets were in line, their cheeks aglow, and their eyes sparkling with the expectation of military glory awaiting them. Poor boyslittle did they know, as they stood there in their bright uniforms, and with their bright guns shining in the morning sunlight, how few of them would
Mexico (Mexico, Mexico) (search for this): chapter 1.6
, when he called to see a friend at our boarding-house. I shall never forget the impression his manner and appearance made upon me. Boy as I was, I looked upon him with a reverential awe. I had heard the stories of his struggles in early life; of how he had walked from his house in Lewis county to Washington to receive his appointment as a cadet to West Point; of his being ill prepared, and the difficulty he had in keeping up with his classes; and then I had heard of his brilliant career in Mexico, of his mounting the walls of Cherubusco with. the American flag in his hands; and here now was the hero of my youthful enthusiasm before me. He was so different from what I thought a hero ought to be! There was so little animation, no grace, no enthusiasm. All was stiffness and awkwardness. He sat perfectly erect, his back touching the back of the chair nowhere; the large hands were spread out, one on each knee, while the large feet, sticking out at an exact right angle to the leg (the
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