...camp-fire bright; No growling if the canteen fails, We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong, To swell the Brigade's rousing song Of ‘ Stonewall Jackson 's way.’ We see him now—the queer slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye askew; The shrewd, dry smile; the speech so pat, So calm, so blunt, so true. The ‘Blue-light Elder’ know...