Mohun | Page 3

curling the huge mustache, could be read youth
and joy, and a courage which nothing could bend. He was called a
"boy" by some, as Coriolanus was before him. But his Federal
adversaries did not laugh at him; they had felt his blows too often. Nor
did the soldiers of the army. He had breasted bullets in front of infantry,
as well as the sabre in front of cavalry. The civilians might laugh at
him--the old soldiers found no fault in him for humming his songs in
battle. They knew the man, and felt that he was a good soldier, as well
as a great general. He would have made an excellent private, and did
not feel "above" being one. Never was human being braver, if he did
laugh and sing. Was he not brave? Answer, old sabreurs, whom he led
in a hundred charges! old followers of Jackson, with whom he went
over the breastworks at Chancellorsville!
Some readers may regard this picture of Stuart as overdrawn; but it is
the simple truth of that brave soul. He had his faults; he loved praise,
even flattery, and was sometimes irascible--but I have never known a
human being more pure, generous and brave.
At sunset the review was over. The long columns of cavalry moved
slowly back to their camps. The horse artillery followed; the infantry
who had witnessed the ceremony sought their bivouacs in the woods;
and the crowd, on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, returned toward
the Court-House, whose spires were visible across the fields.
Stuart had approached the flag-staff and, doffing his plumed hat, had
saluted Lee, who saluted in return, and complimented the review. After
a few moments' conversation, they had then saluted a second time. Lee,
followed by his staff, rode toward his quarters; and Stuart set out to
return to his own.
We had ridden about half a mile, when Stuart turned his head and
called me. I rode to his side.
"I wish you would ride down toward Beverly's Ford, Surry," he said,
"and tell Mordaunt to keep a bright lookout to-night. They must have
heard our artillery on the other side of the river, and may want to find
out what it means."
I saluted, and turned my horse. Stuart cantered on singing.

In a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was riding toward the
Rappahannock.

II.
HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF GENERAL STUART'S STAFF.
If the reader has done me the honor to peruse the first volume of my
memoirs, I indulge the vanity of supposing that he will like to be
informed how I became a member of General Stuart's staff.
When oaks crash down they are apt to prostrate the saplings growing
around them. Jackson was a very tall oak, and I a very humble sapling.
When the great trunk fell, the mere twig disappeared. I had served with
Jackson from the beginning of the war; that king of battle dead at
Chancellorsville, I had found myself without a commander, and
without a home. I was not only called upon in that May of 1863, to
mourn the illustrious soldier, who had done me the honor to call me his
friend; I had also to look around me for some other general; some other
position in the army.
I was revolving this important subject in my mind, when I received a
note from General J.E.B. Stuart, Jackson's friend and brother in arms.
"Come and see me," said this note. Forty-eight hours afterward I was at
Stuart's head-quarters, near Culpeper Court-House.
When I entered his tent, or rather breadth of canvas, stretched beneath a
great oak, Stuart rose from the red blanket upon which he was lying,
and held out his hand. As he gazed at me in silence I could see his face
flush.
"You remind me of Jackson," he said, retaining my hand and gazing
fixedly at me.
I bowed my head, making no other reply; for the sight of Stuart brought
back to me also many memories; the scouting of the Valley, the hard
combats of the Lowland, Cold Harbor, Manassas, Sharpsburg,
Fredericksburg, and that last greeting between Jackson and the great
commander of the cavalry, on the weird moonlight night at
Chancellorsville.
Stuart continued to gaze at me, and I could see his eyes slowly fill with
tears.
"It is a national calamity!" he murmured. "Jackson's loss is
irreparable!"[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]
He remained for a moment gazing into my face, then passing his hand
over his forehead, he banished by a great effort these depressing
memories. His bold features resumed their habitual cheerfulness.
Our dialogue was brief, and came rapidly to the point.
"Have you been assigned to duty yet, my dear Surry?"
"I have not, general."
"Would you like