world could never equal." She tantalizes her
friend with a glowing picture of a gallop "over misty hills, down into
little green shaded glens, under overhanging branches all sparkling
with silvery dew." She tells her that they might take a walk "to 'The
Cliffs,' to see the sun go down behind yon wavy horizon of mountains,
if its setting promised to be fine, and saunter back in the gloaming,
just in time to have coffee handed in the free and easy social
Virginia style in the library."

In Lexington, Margaret's first sorrow came to her, the death of her
brother Joseph, whose health had not improved with the change to
Lexington and who had been sent to Florida, where he found a "far-off
lonely grave."

A description of the young poet at this time is given by a girl
admirer:

Miss Maggie was the object of my secret, enthusiastic worship.
She was not exactly pretty, but her slight figure, fair
complexion and beautiful auburn curls furnished a piquant setting
for her refined, intelligent countenance which made up for the
lack of mere beauty. I used to thrill with admiration as I
watched her riding at a swift gallop, a little black velvet cap
showing off her fairness, the long curls blowing about her
face....

We wondered that a person who could write poetry, which seemed
to our limited experience a sort of miraculous gift, should
condescend to talk to us about our studies and games as if she
were one of us.

It was in Lexington that her power reached its full development, and
she even took prizes in magazines and newspapers for some stories with
what her friends called "prim heroes and pasteboard heroines,"
classifications which she good-naturedly accepted, as she readily
acknowledged that she had no gift for story-telling.

In Lexington, Margaret's sister, Eleanor, met the grave and dignified
Major T.J. Jackson, Professor of Mathematics in the Virginia Military
Institute, and in 1853 was married to him. Here the death of the sweet
and gentle mother brought to the life of Margaret Junkin its crowning
sorrow, and shortly afterward the lovely young wife of Major Jackson
left the earthly home.

The Professor of Latin in the Virginia Military Institute was Major
J.T.L. Preston, grandson of Edmund Randolph. He was a man of great
dignity of character and manner and of unusual scholarship. Though
Margaret Junkin had at times requested her nearest of kin to seclude
her in an