ards the
great lakes of the North, the north-western angle, or Virginia
Panhandle, narrowed the passage between East and West to an isthmus
not more than a hundred miles in breadth. With this territory in the
possession of the Confederates, the Federal dominions would be
practically cut in two; and in North-western Virginia, traversed by
many ranges of well-nigh pathless mountains, with few towns and still
fewer roads, a small army might defy a large one with impunity.

November 4.

On November 4 Jackson's wish was partially granted. He was assigned
to the command of the Shenandoah Valley District, embracing the
northern part of the area between the Alleghanies and the Blue Ridge.
The order was received with gratitude, but dashed by the fact that he
had to depart alone. "Had this communication," he said to Dr. White,
"not come as an order, I should instantly have declined it, and
continued in command of my brave old brigade."

Whether he or his soldiers felt the parting most it is hard to say.
Certain it is that the men had a warm regard for their leader. There
was no more about him at Centreville to attract the popular fancy
than there had been at Harper's Ferry. When the troops passed in
review the eye of the spectator turned at once to the trim carriage
of Johnston and of Beauregard, to the glittering uniform of Stuart,
to the superb chargers and the martial bearing of young officers
fresh from the Indian frontier. The silent professor, absent and
unsmiling, who dressed as plainly as he lived, had little in common
with those dashing soldiers. The tent where every night the general
and his staff gathered together for their evening devotions, where
the conversation ran not on the merits of horse and hound, on
strategy and tactics, but on the power of faith and the mysteries of
the redemption, seemed out of place in an army of high-spirited
youths. But, while they smiled at his peculiarities, the Confederate
soldiers remembered the fierce counterstroke on the heights above
Bull Run. If the Presbyterian general was earnest in prayer, they
knew that he was prompt in battle and indefatigable in quarters. He
had the respect of all men, and from his own brigade he had something
more. Very early in their service, away by the rippling Shenandoah,
they had heard the stories of his daring in Mexico. They had
experienced his skill and coolness at Falling Waters; they had seen
at Bull Run, while the shells burst in never-endin