Massanuttons--is a picture not easily forgotten. And the
little town, quiet and old-fashioned, with its ample gardens and
red-brick pavements, is not unworthy of its surroundings. Up a narrow
street, shaded by silver maples, stood the manse, not far from the
headquarter offices; and here when his daily work was done Jackson
found the happiness of a home, brightened by the winning ways and
attractive presence of his wife. With his host he had much in common.
They were members of the same church, and neither yielded to the
other in his high standard of morality. The great bookcases of the
manse were well stocked with appropriate literature, and the cultured
intellect of Dr. Graham met more than half-way the somewhat abstruse
problems with which Jackson's powerful brain delighted to wrestle.

But Jackson and his host, even had they been so inclined, were not
permitted to devote their whole leisure to theological discussion.
Children's laughter broke in upon their arguments. The young staff
officers, with the bright eyes of the Winchester ladies as a lure,
found a welcome by that hospitable hearth, and the war was not so
absorbing a topic as to drive gaiety afield.

The sedate manse was like to lose its character. There were times
when the house overflowed with music and with merriment, and sounds
at which a Scotch elder would have shuddered were heard far out in
the street. And the fun and frolic were not confined to the more
youthful members of the household. The Stonewall Brigade would hardly
have been surprised had they seen their general surrounded by
ponderous volumes, gravely investigating the teaching of departed
commentators, or joining with quiet fervour in the family devotions.
But had they seen him running down the stairs with an urchin on his
shoulders, laughing like a schoolboy, they would have refused to
credit the evidence of their senses.

So the months wore on. "We spent," says Mrs. Jackson, "as happy a
winter as ever falls to the lot of mortals upon earth." But the
brigade was not forgotten, nor the enemy. Every day the Virginia
regiments improved in drill and discipline. The scouts were busy on
the border, and not a movement of the Federal forces was unobserved.
A vigilant watch was indeed necessary. The snows had melted and the
roads were slowly drying. The Army of the Potomac, McClellan's great
host, numbering over 200,000 men, encamped around Washington, hardly
more than a day's march distant from