Part 87 (1/2)

”Yes, he is. You haven't got any cathedrals here, General Jackson, but you've got about the most interesting army on the globe. Will McClellan--”

”I like the solidity of the early Norman. The foundations were laid in 1093, I believe?”

”Very probably, general. Has General Lee--”

”It has a commanding situation--an advantage which all of your cathedrals do not possess. I liked the windows best at York. What do you think, colonel?”

”I think that you are right, general. When your wars are over, I hope that you will visit England again. I suppose that you cannot say how soon that will be, sir?”

”No, sir. Only G.o.d can say that. I should like to see Ely and Canterbury.” He rose. ”Gentlemen, it has been pleasant to meet you. I hear the adjutant's call. If you would like to find out how my men _drill_, Colonel Johnson may take you to the parade-ground.”

Later, there arrived beneath the crimson gum four of Jeb Stuart's officers, gallantly mounted and equipped, young and fine. To-day their usual careless dash was tempered by something of important gravity; if their eyes danced, it was beneath half-closed lids; they did not smile outright, but their lips twitched. Behind them an orderly bore a long pasteboard box. The foremost officer was Major Heros von Borcke, of General Stuart's staff. All dismounted. Jackson came out of his tent.

The air was golden warm; the earth was level before the tent, and on the carpet of small bright leaves was yet the table, the chair, the camp-stool, and the boxes. It made a fine, out-of-door room of audience.

The cavalry saluted. Jackson touched the forage cap, and sat down. The staff officer, simple, big, and genuine, stood forward. ”Major Von Borcke, is it not? Well, major, what is General Stuart about just now?”

”General, he is watching his old schoolmate, General McClellan. My general, I come on a graceful errand, a little gift from General Stuart bearing. He has so great an esteem and friends.h.i.+p for you, general; he asks that you accept so slight a token of that esteem and friends.h.i.+p and he would say affection, and he does say reverence. He says that from Richmond he has for this sent--”

Major Heros von Borcke made a signal. The orderly advanced and placed upon the pine table the box. The other cavalry officers stepped a little nearer; two or three of Stonewall Jackson's military family came also respectfully closer; the red gum leaves made a rustling underfoot.

”General Stuart is extremely kind,” said Jackson. ”I have a high esteem for Jeb Stuart. You will tell him so, major.”

Slowly, slowly, came off the lid. Slowly, slowly came away a layer of silver paper. Where on earth they got--in Richmond in 1862--the gay box, the silver paper, pa.s.ses comprehension. The staff thought it looked Parisian, and nursed the idea that it had once held a ball gown. Slowly, slowly, out came the gift.

A startled sound, immediately suppressed, was uttered by the military family. Lieutenant-General T. J. Jackson merely looked a stone wall. The old servant Jim was now also upon the scene. ”Fo' de Lawd!” said Jim.

”Er new nuniform!”

Fine grey cadet cloth, gold lace, silken facings, beautiful bright b.u.t.tons, sash, belt, gauntlets--the leaves rustled loudly, but a chuckle from Jim in the background and a murmured ”Dat are sumpin' like!” was the only audible utterance. With empress.e.m.e.nt each article was lifted from the box by Major Heros von Borcke and laid upon the pine boards beneath Stonewall Jackson's eyes. The box emptied, Von Borcke, big, simple, manly, gravely beaming, stepped back from the table. ”For General Jackson, with General Stuart's esteem and admiration!”

Stonewall Jackson, big, too, and to appearance simple, looked under the forage cap, smiled, and with one lean brown finger touched almost timidly the beautiful, spotless cadet cloth. ”Major von Borcke, you will give General Stuart my best thanks. He is, indeed, good. All this,” he gravely indicated the loaded table, ”is much too fine for the hard work I'd have to give it, and I shall have it put away for the present. But you tell General Stuart, major, that I will take the best care of his beautiful present, and that I will always prize it highly as a souvenir.

It is, I think, about one o'clock. You will stay to dinner with me, I hope, major.”

But the banks of the Opequon uttered a protest. ”Oh, general!”--”My general, you will hurt his feelings.”--”General, just try it on, at least!” ”Let us have our way, sir, just this once! We have been right good, haven't we? and we do so want to see you in it!”--”General Stuart will certainly want to know how it fits--” ”Please, sir,”--”_Gineral, Miss Anna sholy would like ter see you in hit!_”

Ten minutes elapsed while the Opequon rippled by and the crimson gum leaves drifted down, then somewhat bashfully from the tent came forth Stonewall Jackson metamorphosed. Triumph perched upon the helms of the staff and the visiting cavalry. ”Oh!--Oh!--” ”General Stuart will be so happy!” ”General, the review this afternoon! General, won't you review us _that way_?”

He did. At first the men did not know him, then there mounted a wild excitement. Suppressed with difficulty during the actual evolutions, it burst into flower when the ranks were broken. The sun was setting in a flood of gold; there hung a fairy light over the green fields and the Opequon and the vivid woods. The place rang to the frolic shouting. It had the most delighted sound. ”Stonewall! Stonewall Jackson! Stonewall!

Stonewall! Old Jack! Old Jack! Old Jack!”

Old Jack touched his beautiful hat of a lieutenant-general. Little Sorrel beneath him moved with a jerk of the head and a distended nostril. The men noticed that, too. ”He don't know him either! Oh, Lord!

Oh, Lord! Ain't life worth while? Ain't it grand?--Stonewall!

Stonewall!”

On went the gold October, pa.s.sing at last in a rain and drift of leaves into a russet November. The curls of wood smoke showed plainer down the glades, the crows were cawing, the migratory birds going south, but the days were yet mild and still, wrapped in a balm of pale suns.h.i.+ne, a faint, purplish, Indian summer haze. The 2d Corps was hale and soberly happy.

It was the chaplain's season. There occurred in the Army of Northern Virginia a religious revival, a far-spread and lasting deepening of feeling. For many nights in many forest glades there were ”meetings”

with prayer and singing. ”Old Hundred” floated through the air. From tents and huts of boughs came the soldiers. They sat upon the earth, thick carpeted now with the faded leaves, or upon gnarled, out-cropping roots of oak and beech. Above shone the moon; there was a touch of frost in the air. The chaplain had some improvised pulpit; a great fire, or perhaps a torch fastened to a bough, gave light whereby to read the Book. The sound of the voice, the sound of the singing, blended with the voice of the Opequon rus.h.i.+ng--all rus.h.i.+ng toward the great Sea.

”Come, humble sinner, in whose breast A thousand thoughts revolve--”