n April
20, 1863. On the 23d the little one, held in the proud father's arms,
was baptized by the regimental chaplain. Nine golden days followed the
reunion of the loving family before Hooker crossed the Rappahannock in
force. Wife and baby were hurried off to Richmond after "a hasty,
tender adieu," and the battle of Chancellorsville began.

"From the opening of this campaign," says Jackson's biographer, "it
was observed that a wondrous change came over him. From the quiet,
patient, but arduous laborer over his daily tasks, he seemed
transformed into a thunderbolt of war."

During the three awful days of Chancellorsville "the thunderbolt"
seemed omnipresent to the Confederate soldiers, oftenest in the
hottest of the fight, always where he was most sorely needed.

On the afternoon of May 2d, in making his way from one part of the
field to another with his staff and couriers, they were mistaken for
Federal cavalry, and a volley of musketry was poured in upon them,
wounding General Jackson mortally.

On the way to the rear a second disaster overtook the doomed band. A
Federal battery opened a fire across the road, and the devoted
attendants, laying the wounded chief in a shallow ditch, covered him
with their own bodies while the tempest of shot tore up the earth on
all sides of them. The danger was averted by a change in the range of
the guns, and the mournful march was resumed. Meeting a North Carolina
general who "feared," in reply to Jackson's eager questions, "that his
troops could not maintain their position," the hero spoke out, in the
accustomed tone of command:

"You _must_ hold your ground, General Pender! you must hold your
ground, sir!"

It was his last military order. Some hours later he lay in his tent,
weak from pain and loss of blood, one arm gone, and his other wounds
dressed, when a messenger arrived in haste from General J. E. B.
Stuart, relating that he was contending against fearful odds in the
field, and asking for counsel from the friend who would never more
ride forth at his side. At the tidings of Stuart's extremity, General
Jackson aroused himself to interrogate the bearer of the message,
query succeeding query with characteristic impetuosity. Suddenly the
martial fire faded ashily, his eyes dulled into mournfulness.

"I don't know. I can't tell--" as if groping for thought or words.
"Tell General Stuart to do what _he_ thinks best."

The "resolve" he and others had thought invincible, th