the
men that he was wounded. Jackson, lying on Hill's breast, opened his
eyes, and said, "Tell them simply that you have a wounded Confederate
officer." Lieutenants Smith and Morrison, and Captain Leigh of Hill's
staff, now lifted him to his feet, and with their aid he walked a few
steps through the trees. But hardly had they gained the road when the
Federal batteries, along their whole front, opened a terrible fire of
grape and canister. The storm of bullets, tearing through the
foliage, was fortunately directed too high, and the three young
officers, laying the general down by the roadside, endeavoured to
shield him by lying between him and the deadly hail. The earth round
them was torn up by the shot, covering them with dust; boughs fell
from the trees, and fire flashed from the flints and gravel of the
roadway. Once Jackson attempted to rise; but Smith threw his arm over
him, holding him down, and saying, "General, you must be still--it
will cost you your life to rise."

After a few minutes, however, the enemy's gunners, changing from
canister to shell, mercifully increased their range; and again, as
the Confederate infantry came hurrying to the front, their wounded
leader, supported by strong arms, was lifted to his feet. Anxious
that the men should not recognise him, Jackson turned aside into the
wood, and slowly and painfully dragged himself through the
undergrowth. As he passed along, General Fender, whose brigade was
then pushing forward, asked Smith who it was that was wounded. "A
Confederate officer" was the reply; but as they came nearer Fender,
despite the darkness, saw that it was Jackson. Springing from his
horse, he hurriedly expressed his regret, and added that his lines
were so much disorganised by the enemy's artillery that he feared it
would be necessary to fall back. "At this moment," says an
eye-witness, "the scene was a fearful one. The air seemed to be alive
with the shriek of shells and the whistling of bullets; horses
riderless and mad with fright dashed in every direction; hundreds
left the ranks and hurried to the rear, and the groans of the wounded
and dying mingled with the wild shouts of others to be led again to
the assault. Almost fainting as he was from loss of blood,
desperately wounded, and in the midst of this awful uproar, Jackson's
heart was unshaken. The words of Fender seemed to rouse him to life.
Pushing aside those who supported him, he raised himself to his full
height, and