so saw the growth of the hero-worship accorded to his great
commander. He did not believe that any other general, except perhaps
Napoleon in his earlier career, had ever received such trust and
admiration. Many soldiers who had felt his guiding hand in battle now
saw him for the first time. He had an appearance and manner to inspire
respect, and, back of that, was something much greater, a firm conviction
in the minds of all that he had illimitable patience, a willingness
to accept responsibility, and a military genius that had never been
surpassed. Such was the attitude of the Southern people toward their
great leader then, and, to an even greater degree now, when his figure,
like that of Lincoln, instead of becoming smaller grows larger as it
recedes into the past.

Harry often rode with him. He seemed to have an especial liking for the
very young members of his staff, or for old private soldiers, bearded and
gray like himself, whom he knew by name. Far in October he rode down
toward the Rapidan where Stuart was encamped, taking with him only Harry
and Dalton. He was mounted on his great white war horse, Traveller,
which the soldiers knew from afar. Cheering arose, but when he raised
his hand in a deprecating way the soldiers, obedient to his wish, ceased,
and they heard only the murmur of many voices, as they went on. The
general made the lads ride, one on his right and the other on his left
hand, and brilliant October coloring and crisp air seemed to put him in
a mood that was far from war.

"I pine for Arlington," he said at length to Harry, "that ancestral home
of mine that is held by the enemy. I should like to see the ripening
of the crops there. We Virginians of the old stock hold to the land,
and you Kentuckians, who are really of the same race, hold to it, too."

"It is true, sir," said Harry. "My father loves the land. After his
retirement from the army, following the Mexican war, he worked harder
upon our place in Kentucky than any slave or hired man. He was going
to free his slaves, but I suppose, sir, that the war has made him feel
different about it."

"Yes, we're often willing to do things by our own free will, but not
under compulsion. The great Washington himself wrote of the evils of
slave labor. The 'old fields' scattered all over Virginia show what it
has done for this noble commonwealth."

Harry remembered quite well similar "old fields" in Kentucky. Slaves
were far less nume