Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 21.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

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[23] and fifty yards or more in his rear. He sat stark and stiff in the saddle. Horse and rider appeared worn down to the lowest point of flesh consistent with effective service. His hair, skin, eyes, and clothes were all one neutral dust tint, and his badges of rank so dulled and tarnished as to be scarcely perceptible. The ‘mangy little cadet cap’ was pulled so low in front that the visor just cut the glint of his eye-balls.

A ghastly scene was spread just across the road hard by. The Seventeenth and Twenty-first Mississippi, of Barksdale's brigade, had been ordered into the woods about dusk the evening before, and told not to fire into the first line they met; but the poor fellows ran into a Federal brigade, and were shocked and staggered by a deadly volley. Splendid soldiers that they were, they obeyed orders, held their own fire, laid down and took the enemy's. Almost every man struck was killed, and every man killed was shot through the brain. Their comrades had gone into the woods as soon as it was light, brought out the bodies and laid them in rows, with hands crossed upon their breasts, but eyes wide-staring. A sickly summer rain had fallen in the night, and the faces of the dead were bleached with more than death's pallor. Every eye-ball was strained upward toward the spot where the bullet had crashed through the skull, and every forehead stained with ooze and trickle of blood. Men were passing through the silent lines, bending low, seeking in the distorted faces to identify their friends.

Jackson glanced a moment toward this scene. Not a muscle quivered. ‘Eyes front!’ and he resumed his steady gaze down the road toward Richmond. He was the ideal of concentration—imperturbable, resistless. I remember feeling that, if he were not a very good man he would be a very bad one. By a ludicrous turn of the association of ideas, the old darkey minister's illustration of faith flashed through my brain—‘Bredren, if de Lord tell me to jump through a stone wall, I's gwine to jump at it; jumpa at it 'longs to me, goina through it 'longs to God.’ The man before me would have jumped at anything the Lord told him to jump through.

A moment later and his gaze was rewarded. A magnificent staff approached from the direction of Richmond, and riding at its head, superbly mounted, a prince, aye, a demi-god. At that time General Lee was one of the handsomest of men, especially on horseback, and that morning every detail of the dress and equipment of himself and horse was absolute perfection. When he recognized Jackson he rode forward with a courier, his staff halting. As he gracefully