Chapter 20: death and burial.The history of Jackson now turns finally from the camp and the battle-field, to the sacred quiet of the sick room, and the dying bed. The far different scenes which are to be unfolded, may be appropriately introduced by a reference to the calm and thorough acquiescence of General Jackson in his sudden helplessness. So eager and determined a spirit as his might have been expected to chafe at his enforced inactivity at such a time. It might be expected that he would now be seen, like an eagle with broken pinion, beating against the bars of his cage, with a tumultuous struggle to soar again into the storm-cloud which was his native air. Such anticipations did injustice to the Christian temper which he constantly cultivated. To the amazement of his own nearest friends, from the moment he felt the hand of Providence laid upon his efforts, in the shape of those wounds, he dismissed all the cares of command, and the heat of his soul sank into a sweet and placid calm. He who, just before, seemed to be pursuing victory with a devouring hunger, was now all acquiescence. He cast upon God every anxiety for his country, and seemed unconscious of the grand designs which, the day before, were burning in his heart. When he awoke from his long and quiet slumber on the Sabbath morning, the distant sounds of a furious cannonade told his experienced ear, that a great battle was again raging. But the  thought did not quicken his pulse, nor draw from him a single expression of restlessness. He waited for news of the result with full faith in God, and in the valor of his army, only expressing such anxieties as an affectionate female might feel, for the safety of his comrades in arms. His first act, after receiving refreshments, was to request Lieut. Morrison to go to Richmond, and bring Mrs. Jackson to his bedside. He then admitted his chaplain, Rev. Mr. Lacy, who had just arrived, and learned his misfortune, to his tent. As he entered, and saw th6 stump where the left arm had lately been, he exclaimed in distress, “Oh, General! What a calamity!” Jackson first thanked him, with his usual courtesy, for his sympathy, and then proceeded, with marked deliberation and emphasis, as though delivering his Christian testimony touching God's dealing with him, to speak in substance thus; and at a length which was unusual with his taciturn habits. “You see me severely wounded, but not depressed; not unhappy. I believe that it has been done according to God's holy will, and I acquiesce entirely in it. You may think it strange; but you never saw me more perfectly contented than I am to-day; for I am sure that my Heavenly Father designs this affliction for my good. I am perfectly satisfied, that either in this life, or in that which is to come, I shall discover that what is now regarded as a calamity, is a blessing. And if it appears a great calamity, (as it surely will be a great inconvenience, to be deprived of my arm,) it will result in a great blessing. I can wait, until God, in his own time, shall make known to me the object he has in thus afflicting me. But why should I not rather rejoice in it as a blessing, and not look on it as a calamity at all? If it were in my power to replace my arm, I would not dare to do it, unless I could know it was the will of my Heavenly Father.” He then spoke, in answer to inquiries, of all the incidents of  his fall, with entire freedom and quiet. After a little he added, that he thought when he fell from the litter, that he should die upon the field, and gave himself up into the hands of his Heavenly Father without a fear. He declared that he was in possession of perfect peace, while thus expecting immediate death. “It has been,” he said, “a precious experience to me, that I was brought face to face with death, and found all was well. I then learned an important lesson, that one who has been the subject of converting grace, and is the child of God, can, in the midst of the severest sufferings, fix the thoughts upon God and heavenly things, and derive great comfort and peace: but, that one who had never made his peace with God would be unable to control his mind, under such sufferings, so as to understand properly the way of salvation, and repent and believe on Christ. I felt that if I had neglected the salvation of my soul before, it would have been too late then.” These are nearly the exact words, in which this valuable witness was borne by General Jackson; for the minister, impressed with their solemn weight, charged his memdry with them, and speedily committed them to writing. It is needless to moralize upon them, in order that their lesson may be felt by every reader. The General was disposed to speak yet more upon these themes; but acquiesced in the friendly caution of his nurse and physician, and remained for a long time in perfect quiet. About eleven o'clock, A. M., Captain Douglass, his Assistant Inspector, arrived from the field with definite news of the victory, and taking his faithful nurse, Lieutenant Smith aside, detailed such things as he thought would most interest the General. The latter went into the tent, and recited them to him, relating, among other things the magnificent onset of the Stonewall Brigade. General Stuart had gone to them at the crisis of the battle, and pointing out to them the work which he wished them to do, had  commanded them to “charge and remember Jackson” Whereupon they had sprung forward, and driving before them threefold numbers with irresistible enthusiasm, had decided the great day. The General listened with glistening eyes, and after a strong effort to repress his tears said; “It was just like them to do so; just like them. They are a noble body of men.” Smith replied; “They have indeed behaved splendidly; but you can easily suppose, General, that it was not without a loss of many valuable men.” His anxiety was immediately aroused; and he asked quickly: “Have you heard of any one that is killed?” Said Smith, “Yes sir; I am sorry to say, they'have lost their commander.” He exclaimed: “Paxton? Paxton?” Smith.--“Yes sir, he has fallen.” Thereupon he turned his face to the wall, closed his eyes, and remained a long time quiet, laboring to suppress his emotion. He then, without any Other expression of his own sense of bereavement, began to speak in a serious and tender strain of the genius and virtues of that officer. Smith said that Mr. Lacy had talked confidentially with General, Paxton about his spiritual interests, had found him by no means the stranger, that some supposed him, to the religion of the heart, and believed him a regenerate man., Jackson replied, in a tone of high satisfaction: “That's good; that's good I” It may be added in confirmation of this judgment, that the last occupation of General Paxton on the battle-field, after he had placed his regiments in position, was to employ the interval of leisure in reading his New Testament; and that as he received the order to carry them into action, he replaced the book in his pocket, and accompanied his command to'move, with a brief exhortation to those around him, to entrust their safety into the hand of the Almighty, in the faithful performance of their duty. It was by this Christian courage, that the victories of the Confederacy were won.  General Jackson now directed Lieutenant Smith to obtain materials for writing, and dictated to him a note to General Lee. In the most unpretending words, he stated that he had been disabled by his wounds, and had accordingly demitted his command to the General next him in rank, A. P. Hill. He then congratulated the Commander-in-Chief upon the great victory which God had that day vouchsafed to his arms. He received soon after the note of General-Lee, which was given above. When this was read to him, he was evidently much gratified; and'after a little pause, said: “General Lee is very kind: but he should give the glory to God.” At a later hour he remarked: “Our movement yesterday was a great success: I think, the most successful military movement of my life. But I expect to receive far more credit for it than I deserve. Most men will think that I had planned it all from the first; but it was not so — I simply took advantage of circumstances as they were presented to me in the providence of God. I feel that His hand led me: Let us give Him all the glory.” These words undoubtedly give the most exact representation of the character of his strategy. While no commander was ever more painstaking in his forecast, none was ever fuller of ready resource, or more prompt to modify his plans according to the new circumstances which emerged. And when he was once possessed of the posture of affairs, his decision was as swift as it was correct. The plan of attacking Hooker from the west was conceived and matured on the evening of Friday, almost in a moment. At that time he met General Stuart at the old furnace in front of Chancellorsville; he gained a view thence of the comparative altitude of that place; he saw the position of the Federal batteries which Stuart was then engaging; and, at a glance, divined thence the disposition of Hooker's forces; he learned the absence of the hostile cavalry; and the friendly screen of forests which  surrounded Chancellorsville was described to him. It was then that his decision was made; and after a few moments anxious conference with General Stuart, he rode rapidly back to seek General Lee, and to communicate his conclusion to him. During the Sabbath, General Lee sent word to him that he regarded the Wilderness as so exposed to the insults of the Federal cavalry, that it would be prudent to remove to Guinea's Station as soon as possible. Dr. McGuire therefore determined to attempt the journey on the morrow. The General hoped, after resting there for a day or two, to proceed to Ashland, a rural village on the same railroad, twelve miles from Richmond, and thence to his beloved Lexington. He dreaded the bustle of the capital, and sighed for the quiet of his home; where, he said, the pure mountain air would soon heal his wounds, and invigorate his exhausted body. On Monday morning he appeared so exceedingly well, that it was determined to attempt the journey. A mattress was placed in an ambulance, and he was laid upon it, with every appliance for his comfort which could be devised. Dr. McGuire took his place within, by his side, while Lieutenant Smith rode near, and Mr. Hotchkiss, with a party of pioneers, preceded the vehicle, removing everything from the road, which might cause a jostle to the sufferer. He seemed bright and cheerful during the journey, and conversed with spirit concerning military affairs and religion. The route taken led southward, by Spottsylvania Court House, and the distance to Guinea's was thus made twenty-five miles.. The road was encumbered by the army teamsters, usually a rude and uncouth race, conveying supplies to the army at Chancellorsville. But when they were told that the ambulance contained the wounded General, they made way for it with tender respect; and their frequent reply to the escort was: “I wish it was I, who was wounded.” At nightfall, the party reached the house of Mr. Chandler, near the railroad  station, whose hospitality General Jackson had shared the previous winter, when he first came from the Valley. Here he was gladly received, and everything possible was done for his comfort; for it was a notable trait of his character, that he inspired in all the people, and especially in the purest and most Christian, that unbounded devotion, which counted every exertion made for him a precious privilege. The house of Mr. Chandler was already full of wounded officers, to whom he sent, by his attendants, most courteous and sympathizing messages. He arrived at this resting place wearied and painful, complaining of some nausea, and pain in his bruised side; but still declared that he had made the journey with unexpected comfort, for which he should be very grateful to God. Referring to his previous advantage in the use of the remedies of Preissnitz, he earnestly entreated that wet towels should now be placed on his stomach and side. Dr. McGuire consenting to this, the ambulance was arrested, fresh water was obtained from a spring on the roadside, and the application was made, as he declared, to his great relief. When he was removed to his bed at Mr. Chandler's, he took some supper with relish, and then spent the night in quiet sleep. During this journey, it has been remarked, General Jackson appeared full of vivacity and hope, conversing with his physician, his chaplain, and Mr. Smith, on every topic of common interest. He referred again to the Stonewall Brigade, and to the proposal which was mooted among them, to ask formal authority from the Government to assume that name as their own, on their rolls and colors. He said with enthusiasm: “They are a noble body of patriots; when this war is ended, the survivors will be proud to say: ‘I was a member of the old Stonewall Brigade.’ The Government ought certainly to accede to their request, and authorize them to assume this title; for it  was fairly earned.” He then, with characteristic modesty, added, that “the name, Stonewall, ought to be attached wholly to the men of the Brigade, and not to him; for it was their steadfast heroism which had earned it at First Manassa's.” Some one asked him of the plan of campaign which Hooker had just attempted to execute. He said: “It was, in the main, a good conception, sir; an excellent plan. But he should not have sent away his cavalry; that was his great blunder. It was that which enabled me to turn him, without his being aware of it, and to take him by his rear. Had he kept his cavalry with him, his plan would have been a very good one.” It may be added, in accordance with this verdict of the highest authority, that the strategy of the Federal Generals, from that of McDowell on the first field of Manassa's, onward, was usually good enough, had it been seconded by the courage of their troops. The Federal is rarely found deficient in anything which cunning or diligence can supply; his defect is in the manhood of the soldiery. On Monday morning, General Jackson awoke refreshed, and his wounds were pronounced to be in an admirable condition. He now began to look forward to his restoration to his command, and inquired of Dr. McGuire, how many weeks would probably elapse before he would be fit for the field. He also requested his chaplain to visit him at ten o'clock each morning, for reading the Scriptures and prayer. These seasons were the occasions of much religious conversation, in which he unbosomed himself with unusual freedom and candor. He declared that his faith and hope in his Redeemer were clear. He said he was perfectly willing to die at that time; but believed that his time was not yet come, that his Heavenly Father still had a work for him to do in defence of his beloved country, and that until that was completed, he should be spared. During these morning  hours, he delighted to enlarge on his favorite topics of practical religion; which were such as these: The Christian should carry his religion into everything. Christianity makes man better in any lawful calling; it equally makes the general a better commander, and the shoemaker a better mechanic. In the case of the cobbler, or the tailor, for instance, religion will produce more care in promising work, more punctuality, and more fidelity in executing it, from conscientious motives; and these homely examples were fair illustrations of its value in more exalted functions. So, prayer aids any man, in any lawful business, not only by bringing down the divine blessing, which is its direct and prime object, but by harmonizing his own mind and heart. In the commander of an army at the critical hour, it calmed his perplexities, moderated his anxieties, steadied the scales of judgment, and thus preserved him from exaggerated and rash conclusions. Again he urged, that every act of man's life should be a religious act. He recited with much pleasure, the ideas of Doddridge, where he pictured himself as spiritualizing every act of his daily life; as thinking when he washed himself, of the cleansing blood of Calvary; as praying while he put on his garments, that he might be clothed with the righteousness of the saints; as endeavoring, while he was eating, to feed upon the Bread of Heaven. General Jackson now also enforced his favorite dogma, that the Bible furnished men with rules for every thing. If they would search, he said, they would find a precept, an example, or a general principle, applicable to every possible emergency of duty, no matter what was a man's calling. There the military man might find guidance for every exigency. Then, turning to Lieutenant Smith, he asked him, smiling: “Can you tell me where the Bible gives generals a model for their official reports of battles?” He answered, laughing, that it never entered his mind to think of looking for such a thing in  the Scriptures. “Nevertheless,” said the General, “there are such: and excellent models, too. Look, for instance, at the narrative of Joshua's battle with the Amalekites; there you have one. It has clearness, brevity, fairness, modesty; and it traces the victory to its right source, the blessing of God.” After Monday, the bright promise of his recovery began to be overcast; pain and restlessness gradually increased, and he was necessarily limited in conversation. It became necessary again to resort to his favorite remedy, the wet napkins, and to employ anodynes to soothe his nerves. Under the influence of the opiates, his sleep now became disturbed and full of dreams. He several times inquired anxiously about the issue of the battles. On Tuesday he was told that Hooker was entrenched north of Chancellorsville; when he said: “That is bad; very bad.” Falling asleep afterwards, he aroused himself exclaiming: “Major Pendleton; send in and see if there is higher ground back of Chancellorsville.” His soul was again struggling, in his dreams, for his invaded country; and he thought of his artillery crowning some eminence, and thence pelting the intruder from his stronghold. It was also on this day that the whole line of the railroad was agitated with rumors of the approach of Stoneman's vagrant cavalry; which had attacked Ashland, and was expected to advance thence toward Fredericksburg, ravaging all the stations. General Jackson expressed the most perfect calmness, in view of this danger and said, that he doubted not if they captured him, God would cause them to treat him with kindness. The confusion prevalent along the railroad had retarded Mr. Morrison in his journey to Richmond; and now made it dangerous for Mrs. Jackson to travel by that route. On Thursday, however, she determined to delay no longer, and setting out by railroad, reached Mr. Chandler's in the forenoon. But meantime, the symptoms of General Jackson's case had  become still more ominous. Wednesday brought a cold, drenching rain, with a chilling atmosphere, unhealthy for his enfeebled system. Wednesday evening, Dr. McGuire, who had scarcely permitted himself to sleep for three or four nights, overpowered by fatigue, retired to rest. But during the night, the General began to complain of an intense pain in his side, and urged his servant Jim, who was watching with him, to apply wet towels. He complied; but the remedy failed to bring relief; and as morning approached, he summoned the Doctor again. The General was found with a quickened pulse, laboring respiration, and severe pain. Pneumonia was clearly developed, but not with alarming intensity; the pain and difficult breathing being more accounted for by a neuralgic Pleurodinia, constricting the muscles of the chest, than by actual inflammation of the lungs. The physician therefore resorted to the more vigorous remedies of sinapisms and cupping; but with only partial effect. The chaplain was now despatched to the army, which had returned to its old quarters near Fredericksburg, to bring the General's family physician, Dr. Morrison, now chief surgeon of Early's Division. Mr. Lacy, while seeking him, called on General Lee, and told him that the General's condition was more threatening. He replied that he was confident God would not take-Jackson away from him at such a time, when his country needed him so much. “Give him,” he added, “my affectionate regards, and tell him to make haste and get well, and come back to me as soon as he can. He has lost his left arm; but I have lost my right arm.” Meantime, Mrs. Jackson had arrived with her infant. The duties of the sick room delayed her introduction for an hour, and they sought to prepare her feelings for the change which she must see in her husband. He had asked for a glass of lemonade, and some one proposed, as a kindly relief to her anxiety, that she should busy herself in preparing it. When Mr. Smith  took it to him, he tasted, and looking up, said quickly; “You did not mix this, it is too sweet; take it back.” Disease had produced a surprising change in his temper in one respect, that he who, in health, was almost indifferent to the quality of his food and drink, and satisfied with the simplest, had become critical and exacting in those particulars. He was now informed that Mrs. Jackson had arrived, and expressed great delight. When she entered his room, she saw him sadly changed; his features were sunken by the prostration of his energies; and were marked by two or three angry scars, where they had been torn by his horse, as he rushed through the brushwood. His cheeks burned with a swarthy, and almost livid flush. Yet his face beamed with joy, when, awaking from his disturbed slumber, he saw her near him. When he noted the shade of woful apprehension which passed over her face, he said tenderly, “Now Anna, cheer up, and don't wear a long face; you know I love a bright face in a sick room.” And nobly did she obey. With a spirit as truly courageous as that of her warrior husband, she commanded her grief, and addressed herself cheerfully to the ministry of love. Many a tear was poured out over her unconscious suckling, yet she returned to his sick room always with a serene countenance; and continued to be, until the clouds of death descended upon his vision, what he had delighted to call her in the hours of prosperity, his “Sunshine.” He now added, with reference to his impaired hearing, that he wished her to speak distinctly while in his room, because he wanted to hear every word she said. At two o'clock, P. M., Dr. Morrison arrived. When he spoke to him, the General looked up, and said affectionately: “That's an old, familiar face.” His condition was now examined thoroughly, and was found so critical that it was determined to send Mr. Smith to Richmond, to bring some female friend to Mrs  Jackson's assistance, and to call in the aid of Dr. Tucker, of that city, whose skill in pulmonary diseases was greatly valued. But the best treatment which medical science could suggest was immediately commenced; and the symptoms of Pneumonia were partially subdued. Nature, however, did not rally as this enemy receded; the vital forces were too much exhausted to be effectually revived. There remained no organic disease of sufficient force to destroy the lungs of an infant; but still his “constitutional symptoms” grew steadily more discouraging. The causes of this decline were several; the cold which he had contracted Friday night; the fatigue and exhaustion of his long continued abstinence, labor and intense excitement during the march and battle; the cruel fall from the litter; and above all, the fatal hemorrhage. It was during the horrid confusion of that night combat in the thicket, that his strength was drained away; the deceitful appearance of the succeeding days was but a partial flowing again of the tides of life, which were proved too weak to fill their accustomed channel, and so ebbed forever. During his remaining hours, he was at times oppressed by something, which was not delirium, but the burthen of a profound prostration, combined with the slumberous drugs which were given to command his pain. Whenever he was addressed by any one whom he knew, he roused himself; and memory, reason and consciousness were found in full exercise; but at other times he lay with closed eyes, seemingly engaged in silent prayer, or overcome by sleep which was visited with disturbed visions; and at others again, he entered into the conversation around his bed, with so much intelligence and animation, that his physicians checked his exertions of his failing strength. During Thursday night, Dr. Morrison had occasion to arouse him from sleep, to take some draught, saying: “Will you take this, General?” He looked steadily into his face and said: “Do your duty.”  Then, as though to signify that he intended what he said, and wished the physician to do for him precisely what his judgment dictated, he repeated, “Do your duty.” His vagrant thoughts in sleep were obviously wandering back to the field of strife; at one time he was heard to say quickly: “A. P. Hill, prepare for action;” and several times: “Tell Major Hawks to send forward provisions for the troops.” On Friday morning Dr. Morrison suggested his fear of a fatal termination of his disease. He dissented from this expectation positively, and said, precisely in these words, “I am not afraid to die; I am willing to abide by the will of my Heavenly Father. But I do not believe that I shall die at this time; I am persuaded the Almighty has yet a work for me to perform.” It was not at random that he then employed two different terms to denote God; but their use was intentional, and was a remarkable manifestation of his religion. The favorite term by which he was accustomed to speak of God in the relations of redemption to his own soul, as the attentive reader will have noticed already, was, “My Heavenly Father.” It was this dear name which he now used, when he would express his acquiescence in the Divine will concerning himself. But when, in the next breath, he spoke of the'work which he expected God, as the Ruler of nations, to assign to him, he called Him “The Almighty.” He also insisted that Dr. McGuire should be called in, and the appeal be made to him. When he entered, he candidly admitted that he shared his fears; but General Jackson, while perfectly willing to die, was still as sturdy as ever in declaring his expectation of life. It may be added, that even so late as Saturday night, when Dr. Morrison renewed the expression of his fears, he still dissented, saying: “I don't think so: I think I shall be better by morning.” On Friday morning Mr. Smith returned from Richmond with  the additional assistance which he had gone to seek. But medical skill could suggest no means to replace the vital forces which were surely failing, at the fountain of life. It was on the afternoon of this day that he asked Dr. McGuire whether he supposed the diseased persons healed by the miraculous touch of the Saviour ever suffered again from the same malady. He continued to say, that he did not believe they did; that the healing virtue of the Redeemer was too potent, and that the poor paralytic to whom He had once said, “I will: be thou healed,” never shook again with palsy. He then, as though invoking the same aid, exclaimed: “Oh for infinite power!” After a season of quiet reflection, he said to Mr. Smith, (who, being designed for the pulpit, had-received a thorough theological training,) “what were the Headquarters of Christianity after the crucifixion?” He replied that Jerusalem was at first the chief seat; but after the dispersion of the disciples thence by persecution, there was none for a time, until Antioch, Iconium, Rome, and Alexandria, were finally established as centres of influence. The General interrupted him: “Why do you say ‘centres of influence ’ ! is not Headquarters a better term?” He then requested him to go on, and Smith, encouraged by Dr. McGuire, proceeded to explain how the Apostles were directed by Divine Providence, seemingly, to plant their most flourishing churches, at an early period, in these great cities, which were rendered by their political, commercial, and ethnical relations, “Headquarters” of influence for the whole civilized world. Jackson wao much interested in the explanation, and at its end, said: “Mr. Smith, I wish you would get the map, and show me precisely where Iconium was.” He replied that he thought there was no map at hand, where that ancient city would be found. Said the General, “Yes, Sir: you will find it in the Atlas which is in my old trunk.” This trunk was searched, but the Atlas was not found  there, and Mr. Smith suggested that it was probably left in his portable desk. He said: “Yes, you are right, I left it in my desk,” (mentioning the shelf.) Then, after musing for a moment, he added, “Mr. Smith, I wish you would examine into that matter, and report to me.” His meaning was, that he should refresh his knowledge of this interesting feature of the history of the infant Church, by reference to books, and thus prepare himself to unfold it more fully to him. On Saturday morning, while he was suffering cruelly from fever and restlessness, and tossing about upon his bed, Mrs. Jackson proposed to read him some Psalms from the Old Testament, hoping their sublime consolations would soothe his pains. He at first replied that he was suffering too much to attend, but soon after added, “Yes, we must never refuse that; get the Bible, and read them.” In the afternoon he requested that he might see his chaplain. He was then so ill, and his respiration so difficult, that it was thought all conversation would be injurious, and they attempted to dissuade him. But he continued to ask so repeatedly and eagerly, that it was judged better to yield. When Mr. Lacy entered, he inquired whether he was endeavoring to further those views of Sabbath observance of which he had spoken to him. On his assuring him that he was, he entered at some length into conversation with him upon that subject. Thus, his last care and labor for the Church of God was an effort to secure the sanctification of His holy day. As the evening wore away, his sufferings increased, and he requested Mrs. Jackson to sing some psalms, with the assistance of all his friends around his bed, selecting the most spiritual pieces they could. She, with her brother, then sung several of his favorite pieces, concluding, at his request, with the 51st Psalm,
Show pity, Lord, O Lord forgive. sung to the “Old Hundredth.” The night was spent by him in feverish tossings, and without quiet sleep. During all its weary hours, the attendants sat by his side, sponging his brow with cool water, the only palliative of his pain which seemed to avail. Whenever they paused, he looked up, and by some gesture or sign, begged them to continue. Thus the morning of Sabbath, the 10th of May, was ushered in, a holy day which he was destined to begin on earth, and to end in heaven. He had often said that he desired to die upon the Sabbath; and this wish was now about to be fulfilled. His end was evidently so near that Dr. Morrison felt it was due to Mrs. Jackson to inform her plainly of his condition. She remembered that he had often said, when speaking of death, that although he was willing to die at any time, if it was the will of God, he should greatly desire to have a few hours' notice of the approach of his last struggle. She therefore declared that he must be distinctly informed of his nearness to death; and agonizing as was the task, she would herself assume the duty of breaking the solemn news to him. He was now lying quiet, and apparently oppressed by the incubus of his deep prostration. She went to his bedside and aroused him, when he immediately recognized her, although he did not appear at first to apprehend distinctly the tenor of her announcement. The progress of the disease had now nearly robbed him of the power of speech. She repeated several times: “Do you know the Doctors say, you must very soon be in heaven? Do you not feel willing to acquiesce in God's allotment, if He wills you to go to-day?” He looked her full in the face, and said, with difficulty: “I prefer it.” Then, as though fearing that the intelligence of his answer might not be fully appreciated, he said again: “I prefer it.” She said: “Well, before this day closes, you will be with the blessed Saviour in His glory.” He replied with great distinctness  and deliberation: “I will be an infinite gainer to be translated.” He had before requested that the chaplain should preach, as usual, at his Headquarters, but he now seemed to be oblivious of the fact. When Colonel Pendleton, his Adjutant, entered the room, he greeted him with his unfailing courtesy; and then asked, who was preaching at Headquarters. When he was told that the chaplain was gone to do it, he expressed much satisfaction. Mrs. Jackson now determined to employ the fleeting moments, to learn his last wishes; first asking for one final assurance more, that his Saviour was present with him in his extremity. To this he only answered with a distinct “Yes.” His wife asked him whether it was his will that she and his daughter should reside with her father, Dr. Morrison. He answered: “Yes, you have a kind and good father; but no one is so kind and good as your Heavenly Father.” She then inquired where he preferred that his body should be buried. To this he made no reply. When she suggested Lexington, he assented, saying: “Yes, in Lexington;” but his tone expressed rather acquiescence than lively interest. His infant was now brought to receive his last embrace; and as soon as, she appeared in the doorway, which he was watching with his eyes, his face was lit up with a beaming smile, and he motioned her toward him, saying fondly “Little darling!” She was seated on the bed by his side, and he embraced her, and endeavored to caress her with his poor, lacerated hand — while she smiled upon him with infantile delight. Thus he continued to toy with her, until the near approach of death unnerved his arm, and unconsciousness settled down upon him. In his restless sleep, he seemed attempting to speak; and at length said audibly: “Let us pass over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.” These were the last words he  uttered. Was his soul wandering back in dreams to the river of his beloved valley, the Shenandoah, (the “river of sparkling waters,” ) whose verdant meads and groves he had redeemed from the invader, and across whose floods he had so often won his passage through the toils of battle? Or was he reaching forward across the River of Death, to the golden streets of the Celestial City, and the trees whose leaves are for the healing of the nations? It was to these that God was bringing him, through his last battle and victory; and under their shade he walks, with the blessed company of the redeemed. His attendants, now believing that consciousness had finally departed, ceased to restrain his wife; and she was permitted to abandon herself to all the desolation of her grief. But they were mistaken. Bowing down over him, her eyes raining tears upon his dying face, and covering it with kisses, she cried: “Oh, doctor; cannot you do something more?” That voice had power to recall him once more, for a moment, from the very threshold of heaven's gate; he opened his eyes fully, and gazing upward at her face, with a long look of full intelligence and love, closed them again forever. His breath then, after a few more inspirations, ceased; and his laboring breast was stilled. And thus died the hero of so many battles, who had so often confronted death when clothed with his gloomiest terrors; with his last earthly look fixed upon the face which was dearer to him than all else, except that Saviour, whom he was next to behold in glory. While he was thus passing down beneath the shadow of the portals of death, two different scenes were enacting, connected with his fate, contrasted in their actors and accessories as widely as the extremes of earth well admit. But it is not easy to decide which paid the most touching tribute to the dying warrior. Mrs. Chandler, the hostess to whose affectionate hospitality the  General was now indebted for a shelter, had a daughter of five years old, whose heart he had won, as he stole the hearts of all the ingenuous, during his short visit of the previous winter. This winning child had noticed the tears which moistened her mother's cheeks, as she was engaged about her household duties; and for a long time, had followed her about the house with a restless and wistful countenance. At length she ventured to ask: “Mamma, will General Jackson die?” She was told that the Doctors said they could not save him, and he was going to die. Fixing her large, solemn eyes upon her mother's face with a look of intense earnestness, she replied: “Oh, I wish God would let me die for him, for if I did, you would cry for me; but if he dies, all the people in the country will cry.” The cotemporaneous scene was at the quarters of the Staff of General Jackson's corps, where a vast congregation of nearly two thousand men, with the Commander-in-Chief, and a brilliant assemblage of Generals, was collected for public worship. When General Lee saw the chaplain approaching, he met him, and anxiously inquired after the sufferer's condition. He was told that it was nearly, or quite hopeless; when with great feeling he said: “Surely General Jackson must recover. God will not take him from us, now that we need him so much. Surely he will be spared to us, in answer to the many prayers which are offered for him.” He afterwards added: “When you return, I trust you will find him better. When a suitable occasion offers, give him my love, and tell him that I wrestled in prayer for him last night, as I never prayed, I believe, for myself.” With these words, he hastily turned away, to hide his uncontrollable emotion. This message has not yet been delivered. After public worship, in which the whole multitude was melted into grief while joining in the prayers for his recovery, Mr. Lacy returned, only to find him gone. He had expired about three o'clock in the afternoon.  The dying scene has now been exactly related, without attempt at any dramatic embellishment; for it is believed that this faithful and homely narrative will be more impressive to every rightly constituted mind, than any effort of literary art. Nor will any reflections be added, upon the lessons of such a death to the hearts of the readers; but each one will be left, in the silence of his own soul, to draw them for himself. They are too plain and solemn to need repetition. Colonel Pendleton immediately informed General Lee, and the Governor of the Commonwealth, of the departure of Jackson's soul; and by the latter, it was communicated to the Confederate Government. In a few hours the electric telegraph had conveyed the news to all the Confederate States; and to every heart it came as a chilling shock. All over the land, hundreds of miles away from the regions which he had illustrated by his prowess, the people who had never seen his face, grieved for him as men grieve for their nearest kindred. Other countries and ages may have witnessed such a national sorrow; but the men of this generation never saw so profound and universal grief, as that which throbbed in the heart of the Confederate people at the death of Jackson. Women, who had never known him save by the fame of his virtues and exploits, wept for him as passionately as for a brother. The faces of the men were black with dismay, as they heard that the tower of their strength was fallen. All felt what many mouths expressed, that no language could declare their sense of bereavement so well as the requiem of David for his princely friend, Jonathan. “How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thy high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love was wonderful, passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!” Men said that they had never  admitted among their fears of possible calamity, the apprehension that Jackson could fall in battle; for he had passed unscathed through so many perils, that he seemed to them to wear a charmed life. He was to his fellow-citizens the man of destiny, the anointed of God to bring in deliverance for his oppressed Church and Country. They had seen his form leading the van of victory, with such trust as the ancient Hebrews reposed in their kings and judges, when they went forth to turn to flight the armies of the aliens, anointed with holy oil, and guided to sure triumph by the oracles of Urim and Thummim and inspired seers. Even those who did not pray themselves, believed with a perfect assurance, that his prayers found certain access to the heavens, and that the cause for which he interceded was secure under — the shield of omnipotence. The people of God, with a more intelligent and scriptural trust, gloried in his sanctity and Christian zeal, as a signal proof that the cause of their country was the cause of righteousness, in his pious example as a precious influence for good upon their sons who followed his banners, and in the homage done to Christ and His Gospel by his devotion. His soldiers trusted in his prestige with a perfect faith; for they had seen Fortune perch so regularly upon his flag, that the fickleness of her nature seemed to be changed, for him, into constancy. Jackson's corps, when fighting under his eye, always assailed the enemy with the certain expectation that victory, and nothing but victory, was to be the issue. His Commander-in-Chief, who best knew the value of his sleepless vigilance, his industry, his wisdom in council, and his vigor in action, appreciated his loss most fully of all. Men were everywhere speculating with solemn anxiety upon the meaning of his death. They asked themselves: Has God “taken the good man away from the evil to come?” Has he adjudged us as unworthy, because of our ingratitude and disobedience, of such a deliverer;  and after proving us for a time by lending a Jackson to our cause, has He now withdrawn the gift, in judicial displeasure? Or does He only mean to render the example of his military and Christian virtues more shining and instructive by his translation, and thus, while He teaches us to trust more exclusively in Himself, raise up, after this model, a company of Jacksons, to defend their country? While some answered these questions in both ways, according to their temperaments, the greater number wisely left them to be solved by God Himself, in the evolution of His providence. In one conclusion all agreed, that the imitation of Jackson's example by his countrymen would make his people invincible, and their final triumph absolutely certain, and that this was the practical lesson set forth by God in his life and death. Gen. Jackson's remains were shrouded by his Staff, Sunday evening, in his military garments, and deposited in an open coffin of wood, which was procured near by. His coat had been almost torn to pieces by his friends, in their eagerness to reach and bind up his wounds, the night he fell; and it was now replaced by the civilian's coat which he sometimes wore in his hours of relaxation. But his military overcoat covered and concealed this exception. The Congress of the Confederate States had a short time before adopted a design for their flag, and a large and elegant model had just been completed, the first ever made, which was intended to be unfurled from the roof of the Capitol. This flag the President now sent, as the gift of the country, to be the winding sheet of the corpse. The Governor of Virginia, assuming the care of the funeral, sent up a metallic coffin, with a company of embalmers, on Sunday night, together with a deputation of eminent civilians and military men, to escort the remains to Richmond. During that night they were finally prepared for the tomb, and on Monday morning, May  11th, were conveyed to the Capital by a special train, attended by the General's Staff, his widow and her female friends, and the Governor's Committee. When they approached the suburb through which the Fredericksburg Railroad enters the city, the gathering throng warned them to pause and seek a more quiet approach for the afflicted ladies. The train was therefore arrested, and the wife of the Governor, receiving Mrs. Jackson and her attendants into her carriages, drove rapidly and by circuitous and less frequented streets, to his Mansion on the Capitol Square. The cars then slowly advanced into the city, through an avenue which, for two miles, was thronged with myriads of men and women. Business had been suspended, and the whole city, as one man, was come forth to meet the mighty dead; Amidst a solemn silence, only broken by the boom of the minute guns and the wails of a military dirge, the coffin was borne into the Governor's gates, and hidden for the time, from the eyes of the multitude, of which the major part were wet with tears. For the next day, a great civic and military pomp was devised, which was thus described in a cotemporary publication. “At the hour appointed, the coffin was borne to the hearse, a signal gun was fired from near the Washington monument, and the procession began to move to the solemn strains of the Dead March in Saul. The hearse was preceded by two regiments of Gen. Pickett's division, with arms reversed, that General and his Staff, the Fayette artillery, and Wren's company of cavalry. Behind came the horse of the dead soldier, caparisoned for battle, and led by a groom; his Staff officers, members of the Stonewall Brigade, invalids and wounded; and then a vast array of officials, headed by the President of the Confederate States, and members of his Cabinet, followed by all the general officers in Richmond; after whom came a mighty throng of civic dignitaries, and citizens. The procession moved through the main  streets of the city, and then returned to the Capitol. Every place of business was closed, and every avenue thronged with solemn and tearful spectators, while a silence more impressive than that of the Sabbath, brooded over the whole town. When the hearse reached the steps of the Capitol, the pall bearers, headed by Gen. Longstreet, the great comrade of the departed, bore the corpse into the hall of the lower house of the Congress, where it was placed upon a species of altar, draped with snowy white, before the Speaker's chair. The coffin was still enfolded with the white, blue, and red, of the Confederate flag.” There the head was uncovered, and the people were permitted, during the remainder of the day, to enter and view the features of the dead for the last time. The face was found to be in perfect repose; the livid flush of fever had passed away; the broad and lofty forehead was now smooth and snow white, the cheeks thin, and bronzed by sun and breeze, the expressive mouth firmly closed; while an expression of shining calm shed a species of ghostly radiance over the countenance. During the whole afternoon the people streamed through the room, ladies, legislators, old men, children, rugged soldiers, in a mingled, silent throng, looked a moment on the dead face, and passed out another way; until twenty thousand persons had paid this last tribute of affection. The women brought some exotic or sweet flower to lay upon the coffin; and these offerings became so numerous, that they loaded the whole bier, and the table on which it rested, and rose to a great heap. Before the pious interest of the people could be satisfied, the hour had arrived for closing the doors, and the officials warned the throng of people to retire. Just then, a mutilated veteran from Jackson's old division, was seen anxiously pressing through the crowd, to take his last look at the face of his beloved leader. They told him that he was too late, that they were already closing up the coffin for the last time, and that  the order had been given to clear the hall. He still struggled forward, refusing to take a denial, until one of the Marshals of the day was about to exercise his authority to force him back. Upon, this, the old soldier lifted the stump of his right arm toward the heavens, and with tears running down his bearded face, exclaimed: “By this arm, which I lost for my country, I demand the privilege of seeing my General once more.” Such an appeal as this was irresistible; and at the instance of the Governor of the Commonwealth, the pomp was arrested until this humble comrade had also dropped his tear upon the face of his dead leader. And this was the last, and surely, not the least glorious tribute which was offered to him, before his remains were finally sealed up for the tomb. The Government shrouded Jackson in their battle-flag; but the people shrouded him in Mayflowers. The former contributed to the funereal pomp the outward circumstances of grandeur, the procession, the drooping banners, the dirge, and the gloomy thunders of the burial-salute; but the true tribute paid to the memory of Jackson was that given by the unprompted homage of the people. No ceremonial could be so honorable to him as the tears which were dropped around his corpse by almost every eye, and the order, and solemn quiet, in which the vast crowds assembled and dispersed. No such homage was ever paid to an American. On Wednesday, the coffin, followed now by the widow and the General's Staff, was carried by way of Gordonsville to Lynchburg. At every station the people with a similar spirit, were assembled in crowds, with offerings of flowers. At Lynchburg the scenes of Richmond were repeated; and the remains were placed upon a barge in the Canal, to be conveyed in that way to Lexington. They reached the village Thursday evening, and were borne by the Cadets to the Military Institute, where they were laid in the Lecture Room, which Jackson had occupied as  professor, and guarded during the night by his former pupils. Friday, the 15th of May, they were finally brought forth to the church where he had so much delighted to worship, and committed to his venerable and weeping pastor, Dr. White. This good man then celebrated the last rites before a great multitude of weeping worshipers, with an unpretending simplicity and tenderness, far more appropriate to the memory of Jackson than the pomp of rhetoric. Thence they bore the coffin, followed by the whole population of the vicinage, to the village buryingground, and committed it to the earth. His grave was marked by nothing but a green mound, and the fresh garlands which the love of the people, unbidden, had never forgotten to renew. The cemetery covers the smooth crest of a hill, which swells up at the western entrance of the village, and commands a full view of all the smiling landscape, and of the grand ramparts of mountains in which it is encircled. It is a fit resting place for the body of the modest hero; amidst the village fathers, whose virtues had blessed their happy, Christian homes, with the peaceful sounds of domestic life and of the Sabbath worship near by, whose sanctities Jackson died to protect from the polluting invader. At the distance of a few steps rest the remains of his lamented comrade, General Paxton, and of his cousin, Alfred Jackson, who gave his life for the liberties of his native soil, which had exiled him for his patriotism. There is no mark to distinguish the grave of Jackson, the humblest in all that simple resting place; but the stranger needs none to guide him to it. Multitudes of feet, in their pilgrimage to it, have worn a path which cannot be mistaken; and no Confederate ever passes the spot withont turning aside, to seek a new lesson of patriotism and fortitude from the suggestions of the scene. The Stonewall Brigade, while expressing their sense of their bereavement, asked permission to assume the task of building  his tomb. An association of gentlemen also began to raise funds to erect, at the Capitol, a grand monument to his memory. The continuance of the war has prevented the completion of both these designs, for the present. It would be tedious to recite all the formal expressions of sorrow made by the military, legislative, and judicial bodies of the country. Only the General Order of Lee, announcing his death to the army, will be appended, as giving utterance in the most happy and dignified terms, to the universal grief.
The narrative of Gen. Jackson's career is now closed. The full description given of his person, character and capacity at a former part of this work, makes it unnecessary to enter at length into a discussion of his merits as a commander here. Every reader will draw his own conclusions for himself, from the facts which have been faithfully related above. But, a few observations remain to be made, without which the historical portraiture of Jackson would be incorrect. It is to be remarked that, while he rose very rapidly, in the first two years of this war, to the foremost place as a great soldier, none of his comrades have yet  displaced him from his eminence. His reputation is manifestly no “nine days wonder,” but one which is destined to endure, and to leave his name among the great of all ages. Few or none of those who inhabit with him the temple of Fame, won their way to it by a career so short. All of the events by which his glory was earned, are comprised within two years time. As a strategist, the first Napoleon was undoubtedly his model. He had studied his campaigns diligently, and he was accustomed to remark with enthusiasm upon the evidences of his genius. He said that he was the first to show what an army could be made to accomplish, and to replace the old technical art of war with the conceptions of true science. Napoleon had shown what was the value of time as an element of strategic combinations, and had evinced that good troops could be made, if well cared for, to march twenty-five miles daily, and win battles besides. And this war should show that Confederate soldiers could do as much. Few generals have waged war with such unvarying success as Gen. Jackson. It has been truly remarked of him, that he was never routed in battle; that he was never successfully surprised by his enemies; that he never had a train, or any organized portion of his army, captured by them; and that he never made entrenchments. His success did not come by chance. While no commander recognized so devoutly and habitually the direction of Divine Providence, none was ever more unwearied in providing the conditions of success. It was his rule that his chief Quartermaster and chief Commissary should see him every day at 10 o'clock, A. M., unless sent for at other hours, and report fully the condition of their departments. Twenty-four hours never passed without interviews with both of them; and he knew the exact state of all his supplies and trains, at all times. He was exceedingly jealous for the comfort of his men, so far as this  was compatible with celerity of movement. Many instances might be cited of his care about their rations. When preparing for his march to Romney in the winter of 1862, he directed the chief Commissary to carry along rations of rice for the army, in addition to the other supplies. That officer remarked that rice was not much favored by the men as an article of food, and that they seldom drew it when in quarters. The General replied that nevertheless, they might desire it when on the march, and he did not wish them to be deprived of any part of their appointed supplies. Several hogsheads of rice were accordingly carried along, and brought back untouched. So, his care of his wounded was great, and no commander kept his medical department more efficiently organized than he. Gem Jackson's personal demeanor toward his soldiers was reserved, but courteous. It was impossible for any to assume an improper familiarity towards him; and no one could be farther than he from all the arts of the demagogue. He never did anything for dramatic effect or for popularity, and never practised any of those means for inspiring enthusiasm, in which Napoleon was such an adept. The only manifestation which he ever made of himself to his command was in the simple, single-minded performance of his duty. He never was known to show himself, of set purpose, to his troops, never made them speeches, and whenever they cheered him, escaped as quickly as possible. But his politeness to the men was unfailing, and carried its own evidence of sincerity. For instance, he was one day riding where scores of soldiers off duty were passing, and whenever one of these touched his hat to him he did not fail to return the same salutation. After thus noticing perhaps a hundred of them, one more deferential than the rest, lifted his hat from his head, when the General also, instead of touching his hat again, removed his wholly, and returned the soldier's bow.  His ideas of discipline and subordination were strict, and he was exacting of his subordinates, in proportion as their rank approximated his own. It was his maxim that he who would govern others, must himself set the example of punctilious obedience. Hence, to his Colonels he was a stricter master than to his private soldiers; and to his Generals, more exacting than to his Colonels. If he found in an officer a hearty and zealous purpose to do all his duty, with a willing and self-sacrificing courage and devotion, he was, to him, the most tolerant and gracious of superiors, overlooking blunders and mistakes with unbounded patience, and repairing them by his own exertions, without even a sign of vexation. But, if he believed that his subordinates were self-indulgent or contumacious, he became a stern and exacting master, seeming even to watch for an opportunity to visit their shortcomings upon them. It must, in candor, be added, that by this temper he was sometimes misled into prejudice; and during his career, a causeless friction was produced in the working of his government over several gallant and meritorious officers who served under him. This was almost the sole fault of his military character; that by this jealousy of intentional inefficiency, he diminished the sympathy between himself and the general officers next his person, by whom his orders were to be executed. Had he been able to exercise the same energetic authority, through the medium of a zealous personal affection, he would have been a more perfect leader of armies. But where he had committed unconscious injustice, he was ever ready to amend it, and to correct his estimate of his officers' merits: and nothing was so sure to melt away the last particle of his prejudice, as an act of courage and vigor upon the field of battle. The utter absence of the Puritanical turn of mind in him, was strongly displayed in the liberal spirit with which he disregarded his own personal tastes, and even his own  moral and religious appetencies, in promoting every man who displayed the elements of efficiency, notwithstanding his private repugnance to his personal character. The man's manners, tastes, religious condition, might all be utterly repulsive to General Jackson's private preferences, but if he saw in him ability to serve the cause, he employed him. Yet all appearance of indifference to error or vice, or of a Sadducean temper, was removed effectually by the care with which he rebuked and suppressed every impropriety in his own presence. That devotion to duty which he exacted of others, he practised with most exemplary fidelity himself. Never was there a man who lived more “as ever in his great Taskmaster's eye,” consecrating every hour and every energy to his country, with an utter disdain of ease and self. From the day he left his home, in April, 1861, to that when he was brought back to it amidst the tears and benedictions of his people, he never had a furlough; was never off duty for a day, whether sick or well; never visited his family; and never even slept one night outside the lines of his own command. His personal courage was of the truest temper. When the history of his early infirmities is recalled, it will appear very unlikely that he was by nature endowed with that hardihood of animal nerve, which makes the courage of the pugilist and gladiator. This surmise will appear more probable, when the strange confession is related, which he made to his medical director, Dr. McGuire. His care for his wounded and sick has been stated; yet he rarely visited the hospital in person. He excused himself by saying that he would often do so, but that when he was in cold blood, the sight of wounds and all their disgusting accessaries was insupportable to his nerves! It was not unusual to see him pale and tremulous with excitement at the firing of the first gun of an opening battle. But the only true courage is  moral courage; and this was so perfect in him, that it had absolutely changed his corporeal nature. No man could exhibit a more calm indifference to personal danger, and more perfect selfpossession and equanimity in the greatest perils. The determination of his spirit so controlled his body, that his very flesh became impassive; the nearest hissing of bullets seemed to produce no quiver of the nerves; and when cannon balls hurtled across his path, there was no involuntary shrinking of the bridle hand. The power of concentration was of unrivalled force in his mind, and when occupied in profound thought, or inspired with some great purpose, he seemed to become almost unconscious of external things. This was the true explanation of that seeming recklessness, with which he sometimes exposed himself on the field of battle. The populace, who love exaggerations, called him fatalist, and imagined that, like a Mohammedan, he thought natural precautions inconsistent with his firm belief in an overruling Providence. But nothing could be more untrue. He always recognized the obligations of prudence and declared that it was not his purpose to expose himself without necessity. But this perfect courage does not wholly explain the position which he held in the hearts of his people. In this land of heroic memories and brave men, others besides Jackson have displayed true courage. He was not endowed with several of those native gifts which are supposed to allure the idolatry of mankind towards their heroes. He affected no kingly mien, nor martial pomp:; but always bore himself with the modest propriety of the Christian. His port on the battle-field was usually rather suggestive of the zeal and industry of the faithful servant, than of the contagious exaltation of the master-spirit. His was a masterspirit; but it was too simply grand to study dramatic sensations. It impressed its might upon the souls of his countrymen, not through deportment, but through deeds. Its discourses were  toilsome marches and stubborn battles; its perorations were the thunder-claps of defeat hurled upon the enemies of his country. It revealed itself only through the purity and force of his action; and thence, in part, the intensity of the impression. This aids to explain the enigma of his reputation. How is it that this man, of all others least accustomed to exercise his own fancy, or address that of others, has stimulated the imagination, not only of his own countrymen, but of the civilized world, above all the sons of genius among us? How has he, the most unromantic of great men, become the hero of a living romance, the ideal of an inflamed fancy, even before his life has been invested with the mystery of distance? How did that calm eye kindle the fire of so passionate a love and admiration in the heart of his people? He was brave; but not the only brave. He revealed transcendent military talent.; but the diadem of his country glowed with a galaxy of such talent. He was successful; but it had more than one captain, whose banner never stooped before an enemy. The solution is chiefly to be found in the singleness, purity, and elevation of his aims. Every one who observed him was as thoroughly convinced of his unselfish devotion to duty, as of his courage, it was no more evident that his was a soul of perfect courage, than that no thought of personal advancement, of ambition or applause, ever for one instant divided the homage of his heart with his great cause, and that “all the ends he aimed at were his country's, his God's and truth's.” The corrupt men, whose own patriotism was merely the mask of ambition or greedy avarice, and who had been accustomed to mock at disinterested virtue in their secret hearts, as an empty dream, when they saw the life of Jackson, had as heartfelt a conviction of his ingenuous devotion, as the noblest spirits who delighted to form their souls by the mirror of his example. In the presence of his sincerity, the basest were as thoroughly  silenced and convinced as the good. The confidence of his countrymen was, therefore, the testimony of the common conscience to the beauty of holiness. It recognized the truth, that the strength of Jackson was in his exalted integrity of soul. It was the confession of our natures, that the virtue of the Sacred Scriptures, is true greatness; grander than knowledge, talent courage, philosophy or success. May it not be concluded then, that this was God's chief lesson in this life and death! He would teach the beauty and power of true Christianity as an element of national life. Therefore He took an exemplar of Christian sincerity, as near perfection as the infirmities of nature would permit, and formed and trained it in an honorable retirement. He set it in the furnace of trial at an hour when great events and dangers had awakened the popular heart to most intense action; He illustrated it with that species of distinction which, above all others, fires the popular enthusiasm, military glory; and held it up to the admiring inspection of a country grateful for the deliverances it had wrought. Thus God teaches how good, how strong a thing, His fear is. He makes all men see and acknowledge, that in this man Christianity was the source of those virtues which they so rapturously applauded; that it was the fear of God which made him so fearless of all else; that it was the love of God which animated his energies; that it was the singleness of his aims which caused his whole body to be full of light, so that the unerring decisions of his judgment suggested to the unthinking the belief of his actual inspiration; that the lofty chivalry of his nature was but the reflex of the spirit of Christ. Even the profane admit, in their hearts, this explanation of his power, and are prompt to declare that it was Jackson's religion which made him what he was. His life is God's lesson, teaching that “it is righteousness that exalteth a nation.” His fall in the, midst of the great struggle for the existence of  his country, and in the morning of his usefulness and fame, has appeared to his people a fearful mystery. But if his own interests be regarded, it will appear a time well chosen for God to call him to his rest; when his powers were in their undimmed prime, and his glory at its zenith; when his greatest victory had just been won; and the last sounds which reached him from the outer world were the thanksgivings and blessings of a nation in raptures with his achievements, in tears for his fall. This tribute to his memory will now be closed with a record of the names of the zealous and faithful men, who at the time of his death, composed his Staff. In their selection, he had displayed a certain independence, or what many deemed a singularity of judgment. Not many of them were men of military education; for he was of all men least restricted by professional trammels. But their efficiency was the best justification of his judgment. His Adjutant and Chief of Staff, at the time of his fall, was the Hon. Charles James Faulkner, lately minister of the United States to France: who succeeded General Paxton in this office, when the latter took command of the Stonewall Brigade. At the battle of Chancellorsville Colonel Faulkner was absent on sick leave. The Assistant Adjutant was Lieutenant Colonel Alex. S. Pendleton, a zealous and spirited officer, who, after rising to the highest distinction, gave his life to his country in the disastrous campaign of September, 1864, in the Valley. The Chief Quartermaster was Major John Harman, and the Chief Commissary, Major Wm. Hawks. The Medical Director was Dr. Hunter McGuire. These four served under Jackson during his whole career. The Chief of Artillery was Colonel S. Crutchfield, who wag wounded at Chancellorsville a few moments after his General. The Chief of Engineers was Captain Boswell, who fell by the same fatal volley which cost Jackson his life. He was assisted by Mr. J. Hotchkiss, as Topographical  Engineer; an accomplished draughtsman, whose useful labors are still continued. Captain Wilbourne conducted the signal service. Colonel Allen managed, with unrivalled efficiency, the ordnance of the corps. Lieutenants Smith and Morrison were Aides-de-Camp and personal attendants to the General. The Inspectors of the corps were Colonel A. Smead, and Captain H. Douglass. These gentlemen formed a military family of the happiest character, and all, excepting those of the supply departments, messed together. While their mess table was simple as that of the privates of the army; and the General forbade that any luxuries should be habitually introduced, which were excluded from the soldiers' rations; refinement, courtesy, and purity presided over all their intercourse. Nothing was ever heard in that circle, which could raise a blush on the cheek of woman, or provoke a frown from the sacred ministers of religion. It is no detraction from the merit of the gallant men who composed it, to say that this propriety was, in part, the result of the elevated example of the General