soldier trying to sing cheer into company.

Dere was an old niggah, dey called him Uncle Ned--
He's dead long ago, long ago!
He had no wool on de top ob his head,
De place whar de wool ought to grow.
Den lay down de shubble an de hoe,
Hang up de fiddle an de bow--

CHAPTER XIII

FOOL TOM JACKSON

The Reverend Mr. Corbin Wood, chaplain to one of Loring's regiments,
coming down from the hillside where he had spent the night, very
literally like a shepherd, found the little stream at its foot frozen to
the bottom. No morning bath for a lover of cleanliness! There had been
little water, indeed, to expend on any toilet since leaving Winchester.
Corbin Wood tried snow for his face and hands, but the snow was no
longer soft, as it had fallen the day before. It was frozen and harsh.
"And the holy hermits and the saints on pillars never had a
bath--apparently never wanted one!"

Reveille sounded drearily enough from the surrounding mountains. The
fires sprang up, but they did not burn brightly in the livid day. The
little there was to eat was warmed and eaten. When, afterwards, the
rolls were called, there were silences. Mr. Ready-to-halt, Mr. Faint
Heart, Mr. Fearing, and also Mr. Honesty, really too ill to march, were
somewhere on the backward road to Winchester. Length by length, like a
serpent grey and cold, sluggish, unburnished, dull, and bewildered, the
column took the road. Deeply cut the day before by the cavalry, by
Garnett's brigade, and by the artillery, the road was horrible. What had
been ridged snow was now ridged ice.

Corbin Wood and his old grey horse were loved by their regiment. The
chaplain was not, physically, a strong man, and his ways were those of a
scholar, but the regiment found them lovable. Pluto the horse was very
wise, very old, very strong and gentle. Upon the march he was of use to
many beside his master. The regiment had grown accustomed to the sight
of the chaplain walking through dust or mud at the bridle of the grey,
saying now and then a word in a sober and cheerful fashion to the
half-sick or wholly weary private seated in his saddle. He was forever
giving some one a lift along the road. Certain things that have had
small place in the armies of the world were commonplaces in the
Confederate service. The man on horseback was a more fortunate, but not
a better man--not even a b