make room for improvements, the first thing pointed out to a stranger visiting Clarksburg was the old house in which he was born.
Zzzhis schoolmaster.In Weston lives William E. Arnold, an old-time gentleman and lawyer, Stonewall Jackson's first schoolmaster, and his close and life-long friend. He, perhaps, more intimately than any other, knew Jackson during his early years. In his law office (for though more than eighty years of age, he still practices law) I found Mr. Arnold a few days ago and told him my errand. A long and interesting chat followed, and then the old gentleman kindly volunteered to go with me to the farm where Jackson spent his boyhood. A ride of four miles over a pleasant country road brought us to the old Jackson house and mills on the west bank of the Monongahela river. The house, long vacant, is now falling into decay. In a few years only a mass of crumbling ruins will remain. We strolled over the fields and along the river's edge, and then sat down to rest on the porch of the old house. Here, warmed by the sunshine of the bright June morning, Mr. Arnold chatted of Jackson's boyhood. Much that he said was new, and all so interesting that I give it in full. Said he:
I knew Stonewall Jackson from infancy. I remember a visit to his father at Clarksburg, where he practiced law a few months before he died. His death, when Stonewall was three years old, left his family very poor. His wife, a proud, high-spirited woman, for a time supported herself and children by teaching and needle-work. Finally she married a lawyer named Woodson, and her children were scattered among their several uncles and aunts. A year or so later the mother died. Thomas, then a lad of eight, was adopted by his Uncle Cummins, and he lived here on this farm until the remainder of his boyhood was passed.