or their want of manners, he
sent them off in different directions to discover Johnnie, giving
them no rest until mother and son were brought together.

But if the soldiers loved Jackson for his simplicity, and respected
him for his honesty, beyond and above was the sense of his strength
and power, of his indomitable will, of the inflexibility of his
justice, and of the unmeasured resources of his vigorous intellect.
It is curious even after the long lapse of years to hear his veterans
speak of their commander. Laughter mingles with tears; each has some
droll anecdote to relate, each some instance of thoughtful sympathy
or kindly deed; but it is still plain to be seen how they feared his
displeasure, how hard they found his discipline, how conscious they
were of their own mental inferiority. The mighty phantom of their
lost leader still dominates their thoughts; just as in the battles of
the Confederacy his earthly presentment dominated the will of the
Second Army Corps. In the campaign which had driven the invaders from
Virginia, and carried the Confederate colours to within sight of
Washington, his men had found their master. They had forgotten how to
criticise. His generals had learned to trust him. Success and
adulation had not indeed made him more expansive. He was as reticent
as ever, and his troops--the foot-cavalry as they were now
called--were still marched to and fro without knowing why or whither.
But men and officers, instead of grumbling when they were roused at
untimely hours, or when their marches were prolonged, without
apparent necessity, obeyed with alacrity, and amused themselves by
wondering what new surprise the general was preparing. "Where are you
going?" they were asked as they were turned out for an unexpected
march: "We don't know, but Old Jack does," was the laughing reply.
And they had learned something of his methods. They had discovered
the value of time, of activity, of mystery, of resolution. They
discussed his stratagems, gradually evolving, for they were by no
means apparent at the time, the object and aim of his manoeuvres; and
the stirring verses, sung round every camp-fire, show that the
soldiers not only grasped his principles of warfare, but that they
knew right well to whom their victories were to be attributed.

STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY

Come, stack arms, men, pile on the rails;
Stir up the camp-fires bright;
No matter if the canteen fails,
We'll make a roaring night.
Here S