Mohun | Page 3

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 to come with me?"
"More than with any general in the army, since Jackson's death. You know I am sincere in saying that."
"Thanks--then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want another inspector-general, and want you."
With these words Stuart seated himself at his desk, wrote a note, which, he dispatched by a courier to army head-quarters; and then throwing aside business, he began laughing and talking.
For once the supply of red tape in Richmond seemed temporarily exhausted. Stuart was Lee's