natural law, or force or
mass. Such an one had to face, not an irritated human organism, but a
Gibraltar armed for the encounter. The men who found themselves
confronted by this anger could and did brace themselves against it, but
it was with some hopelessness of feeling, as of hostility upon a plane
where they were at a disadvantage. The man now sitting his horse before
him on the endless winter road was one not easily daunted by outward
aspects. Nevertheless he had at this moment, in the back of his head, a
weary consciousness that war was roseate only to young boys and girls,
that the day was cold and drear, the general hostile, the earth overlaid
with dull misery, that the immortals, if there were any, must be
clamouring for the curtain to descend forever upon this shabby human
stage, painful and sordid, with its strutting tragedians and its
bellman's cry of _World Drama_! The snow came down thickly, in large
flakes; a horse shook himself, rubbed his nose against his fellow's
neck, and whinnied mournfully. The pause, which had seemed long, was not
really so. Jackson turned toward the group of waiting officers. "Major
Cleave."

Cleave pushed his horse a little into the road. "Sir."

"You will return with this officer to General Loring's command. It is
far in the rear. You will give General Loring this note." As he spoke he
wrote upon a leaf torn from his pocket-book. The words as he traced them
read: "_General Jackson's compliments to General Loring. He has some
fault to find with the zeal of General Loring, his officers and men.
General Loring will represent to himself that in war soldiers are
occasionally called upon to travel in winter weather. Campaigns cannot
always be conducted in seasons of roses. General Loring will urge his
men forward, without further complaint. T. J. Jackson, Major-General._"

He folded the leaf and gave it to Richard Cleave, then touched Little
Sorrel with his heavy spur and with Ashby and the staff rode on through
the falling snow, between the hills. The small cavalry advance passed,
too, grey and ghost-like in the grasp of General January, disappearing
within the immense and floating veil of the snow. When all were gone
Stafford and Cleave turned their horses' heads toward the distant
column, vaguely seen in the falling day. Stafford made an expressive
sound.

"I am sorry," said Cleave gravely. "But when you have been with him
longer you will understand him better."

"I think that