id
stringlengths 16
16
| text
stringlengths 151
2.3k
| word_count
int64 30
60
| source
stringclasses 1
value |
|---|---|---|---|
twg_000012937700
|
were at fault. But all the troops, barring Sykes and Ricketts and the quite unused cavalry, were raw, untried, undisciplined. Few were good marksmen, and, to tell the truth, few were possessed of a patriotism that would stand strain. That virtue awoke later in the Army of the Potomac; it was not present in force on the field of Bull
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937701
|
Run. Many were three-months men, their term of service about to expire, and in their minds no slightest intention of reenlistment. They were close kin to the troops whose term expiring on the eve of battle had this morning "marched to the rear to the sound of the enemy's cannon." Many were men and boys merely out for a lark
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937702
|
and almost ludicrously astonished at the nature of the business. New Englanders had come to battle as to a town meeting; placid farmers and village youths of the Middle States had never placed in the meadows of their imaginations events like these, while the more alert and restless folk of the cities discovered that the newspapers had been hardly explicit.
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937703
|
The men of the Northwest had a more adequate conception; there was promise in these of stark fighting. To all is to be added a rabble of camp followers, of sutlers, musicians, teamsters, servants, congressmen in carriages, even here and there a congressman's wife, all the hurrah and vain parade, the strut and folly and civilian ignorance, the unwarlike softness
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937704
|
and the misdirected pride with which these Greeks had set out to take in a night that four-years-distant Troy. Now a confusion fell upon them, and a rout such as was never seen again in that war. They left the ten guns, mute enough now, they gave no heed to their frantic officers, they turned and fled. One moment they
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937705
|
stood that charge, the next the slopes of the Henry Hill were dark blue with fugitives. There was no cohesion; mere inability to find each an unencumbered path crowded them thus. They looked a swarm of bees, but there was no Spirit of the Hive. The Confederate batteries strewed their path with shot and shell, the wild and singular cry,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937706
|
first heard upon that field, rang still within their ears. They reached the foot of the hill, the Warrenton turnpike, the Sudley and Newmarket road, and the marshy fields through which flowed Young's Branch. Up to this moment courtesy might have called the movement a not too disorderly retreat, but now, upon the crowded roads and through the bordering meadows,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937707
|
it became mere rout, a panic quite simple, naked, and unashamed. In vain the officers commanded and implored, in vain Sykes' Regulars took position on the Mathews Hill, a nucleus around which the broken troops might have reformed. The mob had neither instinct nor desire for order. The Regulars, retreating finally with the rest, could only guard the rear and
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937708
|
hinder the Confederate pursuit. The panic grew. Ravens in the air brought news, true and false, of the victors. Beckham's battery, screaming upon the heels of the rout, was magnified a hundred-fold; there was no doubt that battalions of artillery were hurling unknown and deadly missiles, blocking the way to the Potomac! Jeb Stuart was following on the Sudley Road,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937709
|
and another cavalry fiend--Munford--on the turnpike. Four hundred troopers between them? No! _Four thousand_--and each riding like the Headless Horseman with terror in his hand! There was Confederate infantry upon the turnpike--a couple of regiments, a legion, a battery--they were making for a point they knew, this side Centreville, where they might intercept the fleeing army. It behoved the army
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937710
|
to get there first, to cross Bull Run, to cross Cub Run, and to reach Centreville with the utmost possible expedition. The ravens croaked of the Confederate troops four miles down Bull Run, at the lower fords. They would cross, they would fall upon Miles and Tyler, they would devour alive the Federal reserves, they would get first to Centreville!
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937711
|
That catastrophe, at least, the mob did its best to prevent. It threw away its muskets, it dropped its colours, it lightened itself of accoutrements, it fled as if each tired and inexperienced grey soldier behind it had been Death in the Apocalypse. Each man ran for himself, swore for himself, prayed for himself, found in Fate a personal foe,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937712
|
and strove to propitiate her with the rags of his courage. The men stumbled and fell, lifted themselves, and ran again. Ambulances, wagons, carriages, blocked the road; they streamed around and under these. Riderless horses tore the veil of blue. Artillery teams, unguided, maddened, infected by all this human fear, rent it further, and behind them the folds heard again
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937713
|
the Confederate yell. Centreville--Centreville first, and a little food--all the haversacks had been thrown away--but no stopping at Centreville! No! Beyond Centreville the Potomac--Washington--_home_! Home and safety, Maine or Massachusetts, New York or Vermont, as the case might be! The sun went down and left the fleeing army streaming northward by every road or footpath which it conceived might lead
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937714
|
to the Potomac. In the summer dusk, back at the Lewis House, a breathless courier brought to Beauregard a circumstantial statement. "From Major Rhett at Manassas, general! The Federal Reserves have been observed crossing below MacLean's. A strong column--they'll take us in the rear, or they'll fall upon Manassas!" That McDowell would use his numerous reserves was so probable a
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937715
|
card that Bonham and Longstreet, started upon the pursuit, were recalled. Ewell and Holmes had just reached the battlefield. They were faced about, and, Beauregard with them, double-quicked back to MacLean's Ford--to find no Miles or Richardson or Runyon for them to attack! It was a mistake and a confusion of identity. The crossing troops were Confederates--D. R. Jones returning
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937716
|
from the position he had held throughout the day to the southern bank of Bull Run. The dark had come, the troops were much exhausted, the routed army by now at Centreville. Beauregard did the only thing that could be done,--ordered the men to halt and bivouac for the night in the woods about the stream. Back upon the Sudley
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937717
|
Road Stuart and his troopers followed for twelve miles the fugitive army. There was a running fight; here and there the enemy was cut off; great spoil and many prisoners were taken. Encumbered with all of these, Stuart at Sudley Church called off the chase and halted for the night. At the bridge over Cub Run Munford with a handful
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937718
|
of the Black Horse and the Chesterfield Troop, a part of Kershaw's regiment and Kemper's battery meeting the retreat as it debouched into the Warrenton turnpike, heaped rout on rout, and confounded confusion. A wagon was upset upon the bridge, it became impassable, and Panic found that she must get away as best she might. She left her congressmen's carriages,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937719
|
her wagons of subsistence, and her wagons of ammunition, her guns and their caissons, her flags and her wounded in ambulances; she cut the traces of the horses and freed them from pleasure carriage, gun carriage, ammunition wagon, and ambulance; with these horses and afoot, she dashed through the water of Cub Run, and with the long wail of the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937720
|
helpless behind her, fled northward through the dusk. A little later, bugles, sounding here and there beneath the stars, called off the pursuit. * * * * * The spoil of Manassas included twenty-eight fieldpieces with a hundred rounds of ammunition to each gun, thirty-seven caissons, six forges, four battery wagons, sixty-four artillery horses, five hundred thousand rounds of small
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937721
|
arm ammunition, four thousand five hundred sets of accoutrements, four thousand muskets, nine regimental and garrison flags, pistols, swords, musical instruments, knapsacks, canteens, blankets, tents, officers' luggage, rope, handcuffs, axes, and intrenching tools, wagons, horses, camp and garrison equipage, hospital stores and subsistence, and one thousand four hundred and twenty-one prisoners. History has not been backward with a question. Why
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937722
|
did not the Confederate forces press the pursuit to the Potomac, twenty-five miles away? Why did they not cross that river? Why did they not take Washington? History depones that it was a terror-stricken city and that it might have been stormed, and so, perhaps, the great war ended ere it had well begun. Why did you not pursue from
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937723
|
Manassas to Washington? The tongue of the case answers thus: "We were a victorious army, but we had fought long and hard. We had not many fresh troops. Even those which were not engaged had been marching and countermarching. The enemy had many more than we--heavy reserves to whom panic might or might not have been communicated. These were between
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937724
|
us and Centreville, and the night had fallen. Our cavalry was the best in the land, but cruelly small in force, and very weary by that midnight. We were scant of provisions, scant of transportation, scant of ammunition. What if the Federal reserves had not stood, but had fled with the rest, and we had in some fashion achieved the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937725
|
Potomac? There were strong works at Arlington and Alexandria, lined with troops, and in easy distance were Patterson and his unused men. There was a river a mile wide, patrolled by gunboats, and beyond it a city with how many troops we knew not, certainly with strong earthworks and mounted guns. Being only men and not clairvoyants we did not
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937726
|
know that the city was so crazed with fear that perhaps, after all, had we ever gotten there we might have stormed it with a few weary regiments. We never saw the like in our own capital at any after date, and we did not know. We were under arms from dawn until the stars came out, we had fought
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937727
|
through the heat of a July day in Virginia, we were hungry, we were thirsty, we were drunk with need of rest. Most of us were under twenty-four. We had met and vanquished heavy odds, but we ourselves, like those who fled, were soldiers all untried. Victory disorganized us, as defeat disorganized them. Not in the same measure, but to
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937728
|
the extent that all commands were much broken, men astray in the darkness, seeking their companies, companies calling out the number of their regiments. Most of us went hungry that night. And all around were the dead and wounded, and above us, like a pall, the strangeness of this war at last. The July night passed like a fevered dream;
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937729
|
men sleeping on the earth, men seeking their commands, men riding to and fro, men wandering with lanterns over the battlefield. At three came down the rain. It was as though the heavens were opened. No one had ever seen such a downpour. All day long it rained, and in the rain we buried our comrades. There were two brothers,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937730
|
Holmes and Tucker Conrad, boys from the University. Holmes was shot through the heart, just on the edge of a ravine on the Henry Hill. Tucker, across the ravine, saw him fall. He was down one side and up the other before a man could draw breath. He lifted Holmes, and as he did so, he, too, was killed. We
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937731
|
found them lying in each other's arms, Holmes smiling, and we buried them so. We buried many friends and comrades and kindred--we were all more or less akin--and perhaps, being young to war, that solemn battlefield loomed to us so large that it obstructed the view of the routed invasion now across the Potomac, out of Virginia. We held then
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937732
|
and we hold still, that our generals that day were sagacious and brave, and we think history may take their word for it that any effective pursuit, looking to the crossing of the Potomac, was a military impossibility. It is true that Stonewall Jackson, as history reminds us, was heard to exclaim while the surgeon was dressing his hand, 'Give
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937733
|
me ten thousand fresh troops, and I will be in Washington to-morrow!' But there were not the ten thousand troops to give." WINCHESTER The December afternoon was drawing to a quiet close. The season had proved extraordinarily mild--it seemed Indian summer still rather than only a fortnight from Christmas. Farming folk prophesied a cold January, while the neighbourhood negroes held
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937734
|
that the unusual warmth proceeded from the comet which blazed this year in the skies. An old woman whom the children called a witch sat in the sun on her doorstep, and shook her head at every passer-by. "A green Christmas makes a fat graveyard.--Down, pussy, down, down!--A green Christmas makes a fat graveyard. Did ye hear the firing yesterday?"
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937735
|
An amethyst haze filled the valley town of Winchester. Ordinarily, in weather such as this, the wide streets had a dream quality and the gardens where the chrysanthemums yet lingered and the brick sidewalks all strewn with russet leaves, and the faint smell of wood smoke, and the old gilt of the sunshine, all carried back as to some vanished
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937736
|
song or story, sweet while it lasted. But if this was true once of Winchester, and might be true again, it was hardly true of to-day, of Winchester in December ; of Winchester with Major-General T. J. Jackson, commanding the Department of the Valley, quartered in the town, and the Stonewall Brigade, commanded by Garnett, encamped upon its edge, and
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937737
|
the Valley Troopers commanded by Ashby, flashing by on their way to reconnoitre the Federal General Banks; of Winchester, with bands playing "Dixie," with great white-topped wagons going endlessly through the streets, with soldiers passing and repassing, or drilling, drilling, drilling in the fields without, or thronging the Taylor House, or coming to supper in the hospitable brick mansions where
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937738
|
the pretty girls could never, never, never look aught but kindly on any man who wore the grey--of Winchester, in short, in war time. The sun slipped low in the heavens. Out of the purple haze to the south, a wagon from Staunton way, drawn by oxen and piled high with forage, came up a side street. The ancient negro
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937739
|
who drove was singing,-- "I saw de beam in my sistah's eye, Cyarn see de beam in mine! Yo'd better lef' yo' sistah's doah, An' keep yo' own doah fine!-- An' I had er mighty battle lak Jacob an' de angel--" The wagon passed on. A picket squad swung up the middle of the street, turned, and went marching toward
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937740
|
the sunset. The corner house was a warehouse fitted for a hospital. Faces showed at the windows; when, for a moment, a sash was lifted, a racking cough made itself heard. Just now no wounded lodged in the warehouse, but all the diseases were there with which raw troops are scourged. There were measles and mumps, there were fevers, typhoid
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937741
|
and malarial, there were intestinal troubles, there were pleurisy and pneumonia. Some of the illnesses were slight, and some of the men would be discharged by Death. The glow of the sun made the window glass red. It was well, for the place needed every touch of cheer. The door opened, and two ladies came out, the younger with an
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937742
|
empty basket. The oppression of the place they were leaving stayed with them for some distance down the wider street, but at last, in the rosy light, with a bugle sounding from the camp without the town, the spirits of the younger, at least, revived. She drew a long breath. "Well! As long as Will is in a more comfortable
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937743
|
place, and is getting better, and Richard is well and strong, and they all say he is a born soldier and his men adore him, and there isn't a battle, and if there were, we'd win, and this weather lasts, and a colonel and a captain and two privates are coming to supper, and one of them draws and the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937744
|
other has a voice like an angel, and my silk dress is almost as good as new, I can't be terribly unhappy, mother!" Margaret Cleave laughed. "I don't want you to be! I am not 'terribly' unhappy myself--despite those poor, poor boys in the warehouse! I am thankful about Will and I am thankful about Richard, and war is war,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937745
|
and we must all stand it. We must stand it with just as high and exquisite a courage as we can muster. If we can add a gaiety that isn't thoughtless, so much the better! We've got to do it for Virginia and for the South--yes, and for every soul who is dear to us, and for ourselves! I'll lace
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937746
|
your silk dress, and I'll play Mr. Fairfax's accompaniments with much pleasure--and to-morrow we'll come back to the warehouse with a full basket! I wish the coffee was not getting so low." A soldier, a staff officer equipped for the road, came rapidly up the brick sidewalk, overtook the two, and spoke their names, holding out his hand. "I was
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937747
|
sure 'twas you! Nowadays one meets one's world in no matter how unlikely a place! Not that Winchester is an unlikely place--dear and hospitable little town! Nor, perhaps, should I be surprised. I knew that Captain Cleave was in the Stonewall Brigade." He took the basket from Miriam and walked beside them. "My youngest son has been ill," said Margaret.
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937748
|
"He is in the 2d. Kind friends took him home and cared for him, but Miriam and I were unhappy at Three Oaks. So we closed the house and came." "Will always was a baby," volunteered Miriam. "When the fever made him delirious and they thought he was going to die, he kept calling for mother, and sometimes he called
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937749
|
for me. Now he's better, and the sister of a man in his mess is reading 'Kenilworth' aloud to him, and he's spoiled to death! Richard always did spoil him--" Her mother smiled. "I don't think he's really spoiled; not, that is, by Richard.--When did you come to town, Major Stafford?" "Last night," answered Stafford. "From General Loring, near Monterey.
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937750
|
I am the advance of the Army of the Northwest. We are ordered to join General Jackson, and ten days or so should see the troops in Winchester. What is going to happen then? Dear madam, I do not know!" Miriam chose to remain petulant. "General Jackson is the most dreadful martinet! He drills and drills and drills the poor
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937751
|
men until they're too tired to stand. He makes people get up at dawn in December, and he won't let officers leave camp without a pass, and he has prayer meetings all the time! Ever so many people think he's crazy!" "Miriam!" "But they do, mother! Of course, not Richard. Richard knows how to be a soldier. And Will--Will would
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937752
|
be loyal to a piece of cement out of the Virginia Military Institute! And of course the Stonewall Brigade doesn't say it, nor the Rockbridge Artillery, nor any of Ashby's men--they're soldiers, too! But I've heard the _militia_ say it--" Maury Stafford laughed. "Then I won't! I'll only confide to you that the Army of the Northwest thinks that General
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937753
|
Jackson is--is--well, is General Jackson!--To burn our stores of subsistence, to leave unguarded the passes along a hundred miles of mountain, to abandon quarters just established, to get our sick somehow to the rear, and to come up here upon some wild winter campaign or other--all on the representation of the rather singular Commander of the Army of the Valley!"
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937754
|
He took off his gold-braided cap, and lifted his handsome head to the breeze from the west. "But what can you do with professors of military institutes and generals with one battle to their credit? Nothing--when they have managed to convert to their way of thinking both the commanding general and the government at Richmond!--You look grave, Mrs. Cleave! I
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937755
|
should not have said that, I know. Pray forget it--and don't believe that I am given to such indiscretions!" He laughed. "There were representations which I was to make to General Jackson. Well, I made them! In point of fact, I made them but an hour ago. Hence this unbecoming temper. They were received quite in the manner of a
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937756
|
stone wall--without comment and without removal from the ground occupied! Well! Why not expect the thing to show its nature?--Is this pleasant old house your goal?" They had come to a white, old mansion, with steps running up to a narrow yard and a small porch. "Yes, we are staying here. Will you not come in?" "Thank you, no. I
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937757
|
ride as far as Woodstock to-night. I have not seen Captain Cleave. Indeed, I have not seen him since last spring." "He is acting just now as aide to General Jackson. You have been all this while with General Magruder on the Peninsula?" "Yes, until lately. We missed Manassas." He stood beside the garden wall, his gauntleted hand on the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937758
|
gatepost. A creeper bearing yet a few leaves hung from a tree above, and one of the crimson points touched his grey cap. "I am now on General Loring's staff. Where he goes at present I go. And where General Jackson goes, apparently we all go! Heigho! How do you like war, Miss Miriam?" Miriam regarded him with her air
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937759
|
of a brown and gold gilliflower. She thought him very handsome, and oh, she liked the gold-braided cap and the fine white gauntlet! "There is something to be said on both sides," she stated sedately. "I should like it very much did not you all run into danger." Stafford looked at her, amused. "But some of us run out again--Ah!"
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937760
|
Cleave came from the house and down the path to the gate, moving in a red sunset glow, beneath trees on which yet hung a few russet leaves. He greeted his mother and sister, then turned with courtesy to Stafford. "Sandy Pendleton told me you were in town. From General Loring, are you not? You low-countrymen are gathering all our
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937761
|
mountain laurels! Gauley River and Greenbriar and to-day, news of the Allegheny engagement--" "You seem to be bent," said Stafford, "on drawing us from the Monterey line before we can gather any more! We will be here next week." "You do not like the idea?" The other shrugged. "I? Why should I care? It is war to go where you
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937762
|
are sent. But this weather is much too good to last, and I fail to see what can be done to the northward when winter is once let loose! And we leave the passes open. There is nothing to prevent Rosecrans from pushing a force through to Staunton!" "That is the best thing that could happen. Draw them into the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937763
|
middle valley and they are ours." Stafford made a gesture. "_Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame!_ Mrs. Cleave, there is no help for it! We are bewitched--and all by a stone wall in an old cadet cap!" Cleave laughed. "No, no! but it is, I think, apparent--You will not go in? I will walk with you, then, as far as the hotel." Margaret
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937764
|
Cleave held out her hand. "Good-bye, Major Stafford. We think day and night of all you soldiers. God bless you all, wherever you may be!" In the sunset light the two men turned their faces toward the Taylor House. "It is a good thing to have a mother," said Stafford. "Mine died when I was a little boy.--Well, what do
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937765
|
you think of affairs in general?" "I think that last summer we won a Pyrrhic victory." "I share your opinion. It was disastrous. How confident we are with our 'One to Four,' our 'Quality, not Quantity,' our contempt for 'Brute Mass'! To listen to the newspapers one would suppose that the fighting animal was never bred north of the Potomac--Maryland,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937766
|
alone, an honourable exception! France and England, too! They'll be our active allies not a minute later than April Fool's Day!" "You are bitter." "It is the case, is it not?" "Yes," said Cleave gravely. "And the blockade is daily growing more effective, and yet before we are closed in a ring of fire we do not get our cotton
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937767
|
out nor our muskets in! Send the cotton to Europe and sell it and so fill the treasury with honest gold!--not with this delusion of wealth, these sheafs of Promises to Pay the Government is issuing. Five million bales of cotton idle in the South! With every nerve strained, with daring commensurate to the prize, we could get them out--even
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937768
|
now! To-morrow it will be too late. The blockade will be complete, and we shall rest as isolated as the other side of the moon. Well! Few countries or men are wise till after the event." "You are not bitter." Cleave shook his head. "I do not believe in bitterness. And if the government is not altogether wise, so are
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937769
|
few others. The people are heroic. We will see what we will see. I had a letter from the Peninsula the other day. Fauquier Cary is there with his legion. He says that McClellan will organize and organize and organize again until springtime. It's what he does best. Then, if only he can be set going, he will bring into
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937770
|
the field an army that is an army. And if he's not thwarted by his own government he'll try to reach Richmond from the correct direction--and that's by sea to Old Point and up both banks of the James. All of which means heavy fighting on the Peninsula. So Cary thinks, and I dare say he knows his man. They
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937771
|
were classmates and served together in Mexico." They approached the old colonnaded hotel. Stafford's horse stood at the rack. A few soldiers were about the place and down the street, in the warm dusk a band was playing. "You ride up the valley to-night?" said Cleave. "When you return to Winchester you must let me serve you in any way
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937772
|
I can." "You are very good. How red the sunsets are! Look at that bough across the sky!" "Were you," asked Cleave, "were you in Albemarle this autumn?" "Yes. For one day in October. The country looked its loveliest. The old ride through the woods, by the mill--" "I remember," said Cleave. "My cousins were well?" "Quite well. Enchanted princesses
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937773
|
guarded by the sable Julius. The old place was all one drift of red and yellow leaves." They reached the hotel. Cleave spoke abruptly. "I am to report presently at headquarters, so I will say good-bye here." The two touched hands. "A pleasant gallop! You'll have a moon and the road is good. If you see Randolph of Taliaferro's, tell
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937774
|
him to bring that book of mine he has." He walked away, stalwart in the afterglow. Stafford watched him from the porch. "Under other circumstances," he thought, "I might have liked you well enough. Now I do not care if you lead your mad general's next mad charge." The night fell, mild as milk, with a great white moon above
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937775
|
the treetops. It made like mother-of-pearl the small grey house with pointed windows occupied, this December, by Stonewall Jackson. A clock in the hall was striking nine as Cleave lifted the knocker. An old negro came to the door. "Good-evening, Jim. Will you tell the general--" Some one spoke from down the hall. "Is that Captain Cleave? Come here, sir."
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937776
|
Passing an open door through which could be seen a clerk writing and an aide with his hands behind him studying an engraving of Washington crossing the Delaware, Cleave went on to the room whence the voice had issued. "Come in, and close the door," it said again. The room was small, furnished with a Spartan simplicity, but with two
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937777
|
good lamps and with a log of hickory burning on the hearth. A table held a number of outspread maps and three books--the Bible, a dictionary, and Napoleon's "Maxims." General Jackson was seated on a small, rush-bottomed chair beside the table. By the window stood a soldier in nondescript grey attire, much the worse for mud and brambles. "Captain Cleave,"
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937778
|
said the general, "were you ever on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal?" "No, sir." "Do you know the stretch of the Potomac north of us?" "I have ridden over the country between Harper's Ferry and Bath." "Do you know where is Dam No. ?" "Yes, sir." "Come nearer, Gold," said the general. "Go on with your report." "I counted thirty
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937779
|
boats going up, general," said Allan. "All empty. There's a pretty constant stream of them just now. They'll get the coal at Cumberland and turn back toward Washington in about ten days. It is estimated that a thousand tons a day will go down the canal--some of it for private use in Washington, but the greater part for the warships
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937780
|
and the factories. The flatboats carry a large amount of forage. The Yankees are using them, too, to transport troops. There is no attempt to rebuild the section of the Baltimore and Ohio that we destroyed. They seem willing to depend upon the canal. But if Dam No. were cut it would dry that canal like a bone for miles.
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937781
|
The river men say that if any considerable breach were made it could not be mended this winter. As for the troops on the other side of the river--" He drew out a slip of paper and read from it: "'Yankees upon the Maryland side of the Potomac from Point of Rocks to Hancock--say thirty-five hundred men. Two thirds of
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937782
|
this force above Dam No. . At Williamsport Colonel Leonard with three regiments and several guns. At Four Locks a troop. At Dam No. several companies of infantry encamped. At Hancock a considerable force--perhaps two regiments. A detachment at Clear Spring. Cavalry over against Sleepy Creek, Cherry Run, and Sir John's Run. Concentration easy at any point up and down
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937783
|
the river. A system of signals both for the other side and for any of their scouts who may have crossed to this. Troops reported below Point of Rocks and at the mouth of the Monocacy. The remainder of General Banks's division--perhaps fifteen thousand men--in winter quarters at Frederick City.'--That is all I have to report, general." "Very good," said
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937784
|
Jackson. "Give me your memorandum. Captain Cleave--" "Yes, sir." Stonewall Jackson rose from the rush-bottomed chair and walked with his slow stiff stride to the mantelpiece. From behind a china vase he took a saucer holding a lemon which had been cut in two, then, standing very rigidly before the fire, he slowly and meditatively sucked the lemon. Cleave, beside
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937785
|
the table, had a whimsical thought. The general, about to open slightly the door of reticence and impart information, was stimulating himself to the effort. He put the lemon down and returned to the table. "Captain Cleave, while I am waiting for General Loring, I propose to break this dam--Dam No. ." "Yes, sir." "I shall go almost immediately to
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937786
|
Martinsburg, taking with me General Garnett's brigade and two of the Rockbridge guns. It will be necessary to cover the operation. The work may take several days. By the time the dam is broken General Loring will be up." His eyes moved toward the mantel. Allan Gold stepped noiselessly across the room and brought back the saucer with the lemon,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937787
|
setting it on the table. "Thank you," said Jackson gently, and sucked the acid treasure. "With this reinforcement I am going against Kelly at Romney. If God gives us the victory there, I shall strike past Kelly at Rosecrans." "I hope that He will give it, sir. That part of Virginia is worth making an effort for." "That is my
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937788
|
opinion, sir. While I march toward Romney the government at Washington may thrust General Banks across the Potomac. I do not want him in my rear, nor between me and General Johnston." He again sucked the lemon. "The Secretary of War writes that our spies report a clamour at Washington for some movement before spring. It is thought at Richmond
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937789
|
that General Banks has been ordered to cross the Potomac as soon as practicable, effecting if possible a junction with Kelly and descending upon Winchester; General McClellan at the same time to advance against General Johnston at Manassas. Maybe it is so, maybe not. Of one thing I am sure--General McClellan will not move until General Banks is on this
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937790
|
side of the river. Yesterday Colonel Ashby captured a courier of Kelly's bearing a letter to Banks. The letter, which demands an answer, asks to know explicitly what are Banks's instructions from Washington." He put the lemon down. "Captain Cleave, I very particularly wish to know what are General Banks's instructions from Washington. Were Jarrow here he would find out
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937791
|
for me, but I have sent Jarrow on other business. I want to know within four days." There was a moment's stillness in the room; then, "Very well, sir," said Cleave. "I remember," said Jackson, "that you sent me the scout here. He does good service. He is at your disposal for the next few days." Drawing ink and paper
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937792
|
toward him, he wrote a few lines. "Go to the adjutant for anything you may need. _Captain Cleave on Special Service._ Here, too, is the name and address of a Catholic priest in Frederick City. He may be depended upon for some readiness of mind, and for good-will. That is all, I think. Good-night, captain. In four days, if you
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937793
|
please. You will find me somewhere between Martinsburg and the river." "You spoke, sir," said Cleave, "of a captured dispatch from General Kelly. May I see it?" Jackson took it from a box upon the table. "There it is." "Do you object, sir, to its reaching General Banks?" The other retook the paper, glanced over it, and gave it back.
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937794
|
"No, not if it goes by a proper courier." "Has the former courier been sent to Richmond?" "Not yet." He wrote another line. "This, if you wish to see the courier." "That is all, sir?" "That is all, captain. Within four days, near Martinsburg. Good-night." The two soldiers saluted and left the room, going softly through the hall, past the
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937795
|
door where the aide was now studying the Capture of Andre and out into the moonlight. They walked down the long board path to the gate, unlatched this, and turned their faces toward the camp. For some distance they were as silent as the street before them; then, "If ever you had taught school," said Allan, "you would know how
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937796
|
headings out of reading books and sentences that you set for the children to copy have a way of starting up before you at every corner. _The Post of Honour is the Post of Danger._ I can see that in round hand. But what I can't see is how you are going to do it." "I want," said the other,
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937797
|
"one half-hour quite to myself. Then I think I'll know. Here's the picket. The word's _Bethel_." The Stonewall Brigade was encamped in the fields just without the town. It was early in the war and there were yet tents--long line of canvas "A's" stretching in the moonlight far over the rolling ground. Where the tents failed there had been erected
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937798
|
tiny cabins, very rude, with abundant ventilation and the strangest chimneys. A few field officers were quartered in the town and Jackson had with him there his permanent staff. But captains and lieutenants stayed with the men. The general of them all ruled with a rod of iron. For the most part it swayed lightly, with a certain moral effect
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
twg_000012937799
|
only over the head of the rank and file, but it grew to a crushing beam for the _officer_ who did not with alacrity habitually attend to his every duty, great or small. The do-nothing, the popinjay, the intractable, the self-important, the remonstrant, the _I thought, sir_--the _It is due to my dignity, sir_--none of these flourished in the Army
| 60
|
gutenberg
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.