before he fell dead, pierced by a Minie-ball.

In this battle, known as First Winchester, two of the battery were
killed and twelve or fourteen wounded. The fighting was soon over and
became a chase. My gun being _hors de combat_, I remained awhile with
the wounded, so did not witness the first wild enthusiasm of the
Winchester people as our men drove the enemy through the streets, but
heard that the ladies could not be kept indoors. Our battery did itself
credit on this occasion. I will quote from Gen. Dick Taylor's book,
entitled "Destruction and Reconstruction": "Jackson was on the pike and
near him were several regiments lying down for shelter, as the fire from
the ridge was heavy and searching. A Virginian battery, the Rockbridge
Artillery, was fighting at great disadvantage, and already much cut up.
Poetic authority asserts that 'Old Virginny never tires,' and the
conduct of this battery justified the assertion of the muses. With
scarce a leg or wheel for man and horse, gun or caisson, to stand on, it
continued to hammer away at the crushing fire above." And further on in
the same narrative he says, "Meanwhile, the Rockbridge Battery held on
manfully and engaged the enemy's attention." Dr. Dabney's "Life of
Stonewall Jackson," page 377, says: "Just at this moment General Jackson
rode forward, followed by two field-officers, to the very crest of the
hill, and, amidst a perfect shower of balls, reconnoitred the whole
position.... He saw them posting another battery, with which they hoped
to enfilade the ground occupied by the guns of Poague; and nearer to his
left front a body of riflemen were just seizing a position behind a
stone fence when they poured a galling fire upon the gunners and struck
down many men and horses. Here this gallant battery stood its ground,
sometimes almost silenced, yet never yielding an inch. After a time they
changed their front to the left, and while a part of their guns replied
to the opposing battery the remainder shattered the stone fence, which
sheltered the Federal infantry, with solid shot and raked it with
canister."

In one of the hospitals I saw Jim ("Red") Jordan, an old schoolmate and
member of the Alleghany Roughs, with his arm and shoulder horribly
mangled by a shell. He had beautiful brown eyes, and, as I came into the
room where he lay tossing on his bed, he opened them for a moment and
called my name, but again fell back delirious, and soon afterward died.

The chase w