e iron nerve
that had not quivered in the shock of fifty engagements, failed him.
Yet he rallied as the cannonading jarred his bed and insisted upon
receiving reports from hour to hour.

"Good! good!" he ejaculated, when told how his own brigade was
behaving. "The men will some day be proud to say to their children, 'I
was one of the Stonewall brigade.' The name belongs to them, not to
me. It was their steadfast heroism at First Manassas that earned it.
They are a noble body of men."

His wife and child were recalled in season to be with him for two days
immediately preceding his death. Although confident up to the dawn of
his last day on earth, that GOD still had work for him to do, and
would raise him up to do it, he received the news of his approaching
dissolution with perfect calmness.

"He preferred the will of GOD to his own;" he "would be infinitely the
gainer by the translation from earth to heaven." He gave his wife
instructions as to his burial and her future home; smiled radiantly,
in murmuring "Little darling! sweet one!" as the baby he had named for
his mother was lifted for the father's last kiss.

"Jackson must recover," General Lee had exclaimed upon hearing of his
condition. "God will not take him from us now that we need him so
much. Say to him that he has lost his left arm, _I my right!_"

Men who had not blenched when brought face to face with death that
menaced themselves, bowed to the earth, weeping like women, as mortal
weakness stole upon the strong right arm of the Confederacy. Without
the tent "the whole army was praying for him," while incoherent
sentences of command and inarticulate murmurings fell from his
lips--fainter with each utterance. The watchers thought speech and
consciousness gone forever, when the voice that had pealed like the
blast of Roland in charge and rally, sounded through the hushed
chamber, sweet, distinct, and full of cheer, but in dreamy
inflections:

_"Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees!_"

Forced march, and midnight raid, and mad rush of battle were over.
Victorious Greatheart slept upon the field.

[Signature of the author.]

[Illustration: Jackson at Chancellorsville.]

DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT

By L. P. BROCKETT, A.M.

(1801-1870)

[Illustration: David Farragut. [TN]]

Heroes have not been wanting in the history of maritime warfare, at
any time in these last three hundred years. Holland points with pride
to h