Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday, June 7, 1864 – Second Entry

A courier has brought in the intelligence that Averill's force is at Jordan's Furnace, between 20 and 30 miles from this, and advancing this way. That the force engaged with Jones was not Averill's: probably Crooke's. People are more certain to-day of "the Yankees coming" than they have been at all yet, because there is not a soldier between them and us, and if they chose to ride into Lexington to-night, there is not a thing to hinder them, all the Confederates having passed on to Staunton or its neighborhood. Mr. P. is as busy as he can be, getting things at the V. M. I. moved away. The library has been carried to the College. As the Institute is Government property, they will most likely burn it; that, at all events, is what we apprehend. We have hidden our own valuables to some extent; and Mr. P. is having his bacon hauled into the mountains. Yet the enemy may not come; we have expected them so often when they didn't come, that we may be delivered again. Gen. Elzey has passed on to Lynchburg to-day.

Later: At half past four o'clock we went to the daily prayer-meeting. Dr. White gave us what information he had been able to collect; told us that the enemy was certainly on his way hither; but inculcated calm reliance upon God; said the force advancing would not reach us today; and appointed the meeting for to-morrow, saying that we should come, unless it was dangerous for ladies to be upon the street. As we went from the Lecture Room, three couriers rode up, and the street was crowded from one pavement to the other. We found that Imboden, Jackson, and McCausland are all with their small forces falling back; that the enemy took possession of Staunton yesterday at one o'clock; burnt a large factory and the railroad Depot; and it is said the Virginia Hotel; and were advancing this way. All was such commotion as I have never seen in Lexington; people moving flour, goods, &c.; driving out their cow ; ladies flying about in a high state of excitement. A little while after I reached home, in came E. and Mr. W. from Brownsburg, fugitives from the enemy. E.'s carriage was broken, so he could not bring his wife and children to us; but he took them and the servants over to Mrs. W.'s; moved out his bacon, and what flour he had, shut up his house, and left it to its fate. At his church on Sunday, a courier arrived, and demanded in the name of Gen. McC. that the citizens should turn out en masse and blockade two of the mountain passes. E. went with them; spent all Sunday night cutting down trees, and was near enough to Crooke's camp to hear the band; almost to distinguish the tunes; heard ten reveilles, which would indicate ten regiments; saw the camp fires. When he left home, McC. had passed his house coming this way; the enemy was several miles above Brownsburg. Agnes is pretty brave; she was willing to be left alone in the house, the only white person, with her little children. All her anxiety was to get E. off. I was busy until ten o'clock getting off our bacon and flour, which E. tells me the enemy is taking all along the route.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 184-6

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 11, 1864

We surely “dwell in the midst of alarms.” We were roused from our beds this morning at five o'clock by an order for the impressment of our horses to haul the Institute cannon: then came Frank, Preston Cocke, and William Lewis for a hurried breakfast, and provision for their haversacks; ordered towards Winchester, where is Seigle with a large Yankee force. They left at seven o'clock; all the Home Guard is ordered out too; so Lexington is left without men. Last night firing was heard by a great many persons, more distinctly they say than ever before. They suppose it to be at Richmond. I'm thankful my husband is away, on the errand of God's Church, and so escapes going to Winchester. He will regret it no little!

I was very much struck, a few weeks ago, in listening to my children at play. They dramatized that familiar passage in Childe Harold as closely as if it had been explained to them, —

“There was a sound of revelry by night,” &c.

Of course they had never even heard it read; but they got their “Mammy” to cut paper soldiers and ladies; then they had a “party,” and made the soldiers and ladies dance together. While they were busy dancing, came a shout from George: “The enemy — the Yankees — they are coming! Your guns! Your guns!” So the soldiers tore themselves away. “There was mounting in hot haste,” and they made them rush to battle, leaving the poor paper ladies scattered disconsolately about the floor. The thought of war is never out of our minds. If it could be, our children would bring it back by their plays! For they are almost wholly of a military character. Oh! when will the end come! No mail last night; but news by stage that Pickett has been successful above Petersburg.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 179-80

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: November 6, 1862

Randolph [Col. P.'s fourth son] has come home from the Institute sick.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 156

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: November 10, 1862

Randolph very ill with typhoid fever; has been delirious almost a week. The Dr. thinks there is some change for the better. I pray it may be God's will to spare his life. A cadet has died at the Institute, with this same fever, after seven days' illness.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 156

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 1, 1862

A dreary dismal day of rain, and my feelings are in accordance with the weather. At midnight last night Mr. P. was summoned to the Institute by a dispatch received from Jackson, requiring the corps of cadets to march at once to his support in an expected battle. Before three o'clock he returned, saying he too was to go early in the morning. Although something of the kind has been continually dreaded, it was a shock to me — and such a grief! He is gone — to be exposed certainly to the chances of a stern battle; there is no mail communication between Jackson's position and this, so I can't hear from him, and must be content with rumors, which are torturing, because generally so exaggerated.

After he left me, I shut myself in his study, and blotted the leaves of his Bible with my tears, while I read on my knees the 91st Psalm, and besought God to realize to him all the promises contained in that Psalm. Then, with my finger on the Saviour’s promise, “Ask and it shall be given you,” etc., I plead his fulfilment of it to me in my precious husband's behalf; and I think I felt a relief in laying my aching heart on the bosom of the Redeemer. “Be not afraid, only believe! God has been so good to us in the past, let us trust him for the future” — my Beloved said to me as he held me in his arms at parting. With God's help I will try and act upon his counsel. Am I not limiting my heavenly Father's power when I feel that my husband is less safe on the battle field than at home? Wherever he is, the Almighty arms are around him; this being so, why should I be afraid? “Why art thou so fearful, oh, thou of little faith!”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 138-9

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: April 3, 1862

I regret now that I did not, a year ago, make brief notes of what was passing under my eye. Not write a journal, — I have no time nor inclination for that, — but just such slight jottings as might serve to recall the incidents of this most eventful year in our country's history. It is too late now to attempt the review. While the year has not brought the sorrow and trial to me, which it has to such multitudes of hearts, it still has had in it much of trouble and perplexity. The sudden breaking up of my Father's family — his and Sister Julia's departure to Philadelphia—my husband's long absence in the army — my many cares incident upon this absence — my days and nights of torturing apprehension while he was campaigning with General Jackson — my entire ignorance of all that appertained to my Father, Sister, and most of my friends — these were the troubles that made my year sorrowful. Thanks to God's mercy, I got through all somehow, and was blest by having my husband restored to me by February 1st.

Darkness seems gathering over the Southern land; disaster follows disaster; where is it all to end? My very soul is sick of carnage. I loathe the word — War. It is destroying and paralyzing all before it. Our schools are closed —all the able-bodied men gone — stores shut up, or only here and there one open; goods not to be bought, or so exorbitant that we are obliged to do without. I actually dressed my baby all winter in calico dresses made out of the lining of an old dressing-gown; and G. in clothes concocted out of old castaways. As to myself, I rigidly abstained from getting a single article of dress in the entire past year, except shoes and stockings. Calico is not to be had; a few pieces had been offered at 40 cents per yard. Coarse, unbleached cottons are very occasionally to be met with, and are caught op eagerly at 40 cents per yard. Such material as we used to give nine-pence for (common blue twill) is a bargain now at 40 cents, and then of a very inferior quality. Soda, if to be had at all, is 75 cents per lb. Coffee is not to be bought. We have some on hand, and for eight months have drunk a poor mixture, half wheat, half coffee. Many persons have nothing but wheat or rye.

These are some of the very trifling effects of this horrid and senseless war. Just now I am bound down under the apprehension of having my husband again enter the service; and if he goes, he says he will not return until the war closes, if indeed he come back alive. May God's providence interpose to prevent his going! His presence is surely needed at home; his hands are taken away by the militia draught, and he has almost despaired of having his farms cultivated this year. His overseer is draughted, and will have to go, unless the plea of sickness will avail to release him, as he has been seriously unwell. The Institute is full, two hundred and fifty cadets being in it; but they may disperse at any time, so uncertain is the tenure of everything now. The College has five students; boys too young to enter the army.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 134-5

Lieutenant-Colonel John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, May 19, 1861

Division Headquarters,

Harper's Ferry, May [1]9,1861.

Do you think I have forgotten my little wife? I would write to you daily, if I had time and postage stamps. These latter relics and mementos of things gone by are not to be had, though much sought for in all the camp. Strange! that we should feel the want of stamps when we have declared that we have no need of the government that issued them! I had a stock of them in my trunk, but my trunk is in Staunton.

But the want of stamps is nothing to the want of time. Massie has gone to Richmond with dispatches; Jackson said that I ought to go, but I interceded for Massie, that he might have a few days off duty. While he is gone, I take as much of Jackson's responsibility as I choose. Colonels, captains, and officials of all ranks come to me for orders, for leave of absence, for directions, for privileges, for information. It is precisely, so far as I am concerned, like the superintendency of the Institute, and it is my practice in that sort of work that gives me here more efficiency than men of more ability and more experience. It is astonishing to see how the Institute tells just now. Every man from the oldest to the youngest, who has been connected with it, is looked to for extra service. When Massie is here I do some of the same sort of thing, but mainly I write letters for Jackson, and advise with him as far as I am able. Don't read this letter out of the family, or it would sound egotistic. Of course this takes up my time from morning till night, and sometimes from night almost till morning. I am writing now, in the morning, while everybody but the sentinels and the servants are still in bed. But it is worth while to rise early to see the sunrise here. Busy as I am, I stop the current of other thoughts often during the day, especially at morning and evening, to take a hasty, deep draught of the exceeding beauty around me. I have been with Jackson reconnoitering on the three positions of command, the Virginia Heights, the Maryland Heights, and the ridge behind the little town of Bolivar. We were examining with an eye to defense, but my eye will gaze on beauty wherever it is to be seen. Here beauty is in rich fresco on all the walls of our enceinture. One thought often occurs — [The rest of the letter is lost, and we will never know what that thought was that often occurred to the soldier-professor! ]

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 119-20

Lieutenant-Colonel John T. L. Preston to Margaret Junkin Preston, May 12, 1861

Harper's Ferry, May 12 (1861).

Precious Wife, — As far as I know, I am in for the war, and cannot say when I will see you again. It would surprise you to see with what flexibility I adapt myself to my new circumstances. I did not know before how well I could get through work which is new to me, nor did I know how much technical acquaintance with military matters I had absorbed (for I never paid the least attention to them) by my life-long connection with the Institute. At all events, I have been for a week, since Massie's absence, acting as chief aid, settling all manner of questions for colonels, majors, and captains, and sometimes when Jackson was absent looking after his fortifications, acting as commander-in-chief. (Don't repeat such things to anybody.) We have regular and earnest war, in all but the battle, that has not come yet. The preparatory arrangements for war are more difficult and responsible than the battle itself, and the indirect evils are more to be deplored than the positive loss of life. Don't I long for my dear wife and children? Indeed I do. Tell George I have got my big sword sharpened up now, and ride a nice horse.  . . . I have not heard a single word from you, but I know you do not forget to think of and pray for me. God bless us all.

Your Husband.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 118

Diary of Private Charles H. Lynch: June 12, 1864

Sunday. Came off picket. General Hunter is applying the torch to many buildings. I watched them burn. Among them were the Washington Military Institute, and the home of Governor Letcher. It was a grand and awful sight to see so many buildings burning at the same time. A bronze statue of George Washington was removed from the front entrance and saved. It was put in one of the wagons, and in time was to be sent to Washington, D. C. After the fires were out I visited the ruins. The cavalry brought in to our lines many slaves, the owners trying to hide them in the surrounding mountains. They were a husky lot, and could run as fast as a horse. I saw them keep up with cavalry. Visited many points of interest in and around this fine looking town.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 75

Diary of Private Charles H. Lynch: June 11, 1864

Up and on the march by daylight. After a few hours marching, judging by the cannonading, there is hot work going on. We are pushing on for Lexington. Find the town is located on the south side of the James River. The enemy burned the bridge, delayed our crossing. The Engineer Corps provided a way for us to cross on the ruins of the bridge. The cavalry and artillery crossed at some other point. The Engineer Corps used lumber from nearby buildings to make the bridge safe for us to cross.

At this point we received a great surprise. A wagon train overtook us with supplies. Our rations at this time were very low. The enemy were run out of town. We go in camp on the east side. Lexington is a beautiful town. The scenery grand. Reported to us that the sound of Yankee guns had never been heard here before, or until today.

Stonewall Jackson and many prominent rebel officers lie buried here in the town's cemetery. The Washington Military Institute is located here, the pride of old Virginia. Governor Letcher resides here. Many other fine residences are located here. The weather clear, but hot. Scouts are bringing in prisoners. Detailed for picket duty tonight.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 74-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 23, 1861

Several prominent citizens telegraphed President Davis to-day to hasten to Virginia with as many troops as he can catch up, assuring him that his army will grow like a snow-ball as it progresses. I have no doubt it would. I think it would swell to 50,000 before reaching Washington, and that the people on the route would supply the quartermaster's stores, and improvise an adequate commissariat. I believe he could drive the Abolitionists out of Washington even yet, if he would make a bold dash, and that there would be a universal uprising in all the border States this side of the Susquehanna. But he does not respond. Virginia was too late moving, and North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Kentucky, and Missouri have not seceded yet — though all of them will soon follow Virginia. Besides, the vote on the ratification in this State is to take place a month hence. It would be an infringement of State rights, and would be construed as an invasion of Virginia! Could the Union men in the Convention, after being forced to pass the ordinance, have dealt a more fatal blow to their country? But that is not all. The governor is appointing his Union partisans to military positions. Nevertheless, as time rolls on, and eternal separation is pronounced by the events that must be developed, they may prove true to the best interests of their native land.

Every hour there are fresh arrivals of organized companies from the country, tendering their services to the governor; and nearly all the young men in the city are drilling. The cadets of the Military Institute are rendering good service now, and Professor Jackson is truly a benefactor. I hope he will take the field himself; and if he does, I predict for him a successful career.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 26-7

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: June 12, 1861

The Briars —We are now in the beautiful Valley of Virginia, having left Chantilly on the 8th. The ride through the Piedmont country was delightful; it looked so peaceful and calm that we almost forgot the din of war we had left behind us. The road through Loudoun and Fauquier was picturesque and beautiful. We passed through the villages of Aldie, Middleburg, and Upperville. At Middleburg we stopped for an hour, and regaled ourselves on strawberries and cream at the house of our excellent brother, the Rev. Mr. K. At Upperville we spent the night. Early next morning we went on through the village of Paris, and then began to ascend the Blue Ridge, wound around on the fine turnpike, paused a moment at the top to “view the landscape o'er,” and then descended into the “Valley.” The wheat, which is almost ready for the reaper, is rich and luxuriant, foreshadowing an abundant commissariat for our army. After driving some miles over the delightful turnpike, we found ourselves at this door, receiving the warm-hearted welcome of the kindest of relatives and the most pleasant of hosts. Our daughters were here before us, all well, and full of questions about “home.” This is all very delightful when we fancy ourselves making a voluntary visit to this family, as in days gone by, to return home when the visit is over, hoping soon to see our friends by our own fireside; but when the reality is before us that we were forced from home, and can only return when it pleases our enemy to open the way for us, or when our men have forced them away at the point of the bayonet, then does our future seem shadowy, doubtful, and dreary, and then we feel that our situation is indeed sorrowful. But these feelings must not be indulged; many are already in our situation, and how many more are there who may have to follow our example! Having no houses to provide for, we must be up and doing for our country; idleness does not become us now — there is too much to be done; we must work on, work ever, and let our country's weal be our being's end and aim.

Yesterday we went to Winchester to see my dear S., and found her house full of refugees: my sister Mrs. C, and her daughter Mrs. L., from Berkeley County. Mrs. C.'s sons are in the army; her eldest, having been educated at the Virginia Military Institute, drilled a company of his own county men during the John Brown raid; he has now taken it to the field, and is its commander; and Mr. L. is in the army, with the rank of major. Of course the ladies of the family were active in fitting out the soldiers, and when an encampment was near them, they did every thing in their power to contribute to the comfort of the soldiers; for which sins the Union people around them have thought proper to persecute them, until they were obliged to leave home — Mrs. L. with two sick children. Her house has been searched, furniture broken, and many depredations committed since she left home ; books thrown Out of the windows during a rain: nothing escaped their fury.

Winchester is filled with hospitals, and the ladies are devoting their energies to nursing the soldiers. The sick from the camp at Harper's Ferrry are brought there. Our climate seems not to suit the men from the far South. I hope they will soon become acclimated. It rejoices my heart to see how much everybody is willing to do for the poor fellows. The ladies there think no effort, however self-sacrificing, is too great to be made for the soldiers. Nice food for the sick is constantly being prepared by old and young. Those who are very sick are taken to the private houses, and the best chambers in town are occupied by them. The poorest private and the officer of high degree meet with the same treatment. The truth is, the elite of the land is in the ranks. I heard a young soldier say, a few nights ago, that his captain was perhaps the plainest man, socially, in the company, but that he was an admirable officer. We heard a good story about a wealthy young private whose captain was his intimate friend, but not being rich, he could not afford to take a servant to camp; it therefore fell to the lot of the privates to clean the captain's shoes. When the turn of the wealthy friend came, he walked up, cap in hand, with an air of due humility, gave the military salute, and said, with great gravity, “Captain, your shoes, if you please, sir.” The ludicrousness of the scene was more than either could stand, and they laughed heartily. But the wealthy private cleaned the captain's shoes.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 27-9

Major-General Thomas J. Jackson to Mary Anna Morrison Jackson, May 5, 1862

Staunton, May 5th.

Since I last wrote to my darling I have been very busy. On Wednesday last I left my position near Swift Run Gap, and moved up the south fork of the Shenandoah to Port Republic, which is about three miles from Weyer's Cave. I would like to see the cave, for I remembered that my little pet had been there, and that gave me a deeper interest in the great curiosity. The road up the river was so treacherous that I could only advance about six miles per day, and to leave the road was at the risk of sinking yet deeper in the quicksands, in which that locality abounds. The country is one of the loveliest I have ever seen. On Saturday the march was resumed, and we crossed the Blue Ridge at what is known as Brown's Gap, and thus entered into Eastern Virginia. I stopped with a very agreeable family named Pace. Here I expected to pass the Sabbath, but on Sunday morning I received a despatch stating that part of the enemy's force had arrived within one day's march of Brigadier-General Edward Johnson's camp. Under the circumstances I felt it incumbent upon me to press forward, and I arrived here last evening, where I am stopping at the Virginia House. The troops are still coming in. The corps of cadets of the Virginia Military Institute is here.

SOURCE: Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), p. 254-5

Major-General Thomas J. Jackson to Governor John Letcher

WINCHESTER, February 6, 1862.

His Excellency JOHN LETCHER, Governor of Virginia:

GOVERNOR: Your letter of the 4th instant was received this morning.*

If my retiring from the Army would produce that effect upon our country that you have named in your letter, I of course would not desire to leave the service, and if, upon the receipt of this note, your opinion remains unchanged, you are authorized to withdraw my resignation, unless the Secretary of War desires that it should be accepted. My reasons for resigning were set forth in my letter of the 31st ultimo and my views remain unchanged, and if the Secretary persists in the ruinous policy complained of, I feel that no officer can serve his country better than by making his strongest possible protest against it, which, in my opinion, is done by tendering his resignation, rather than be a willful instrument in prosecuting the war upon a ruinous principle.

I am much obliged to you for requesting that I should be ordered to the Institute.

Very truly, your friend,

 T. J. JACKSON.

_______________

* Not Found.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 5 (Serial No. 5), p. 1062-3; Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), p. 234-5

Major Thomas J. Jackson to Mary Anna Morrison Jackson, February 18, 1861

Home, February 18th, 1861.

My precious little darling, your husband has returned from the Institute, had his dinner all alone, and feels sad enough this afternoon; but I trust that my little pet has had a pleasant day's travel, and that the kind providence of God has kept her from all accident and danger, and has spread out before her many enjoyments. I hope that you will be greatly prospered during all your absence. The day here has been very changeable, alternating between sunshine and snow. I hope the Richmond weather is better, for I have been thinking you might be too much exposed in shopping. However, I hope you have taken a carriage, if necessary, and have taken good care of my little one.

SOURCE: Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), p. 137

Major Thomas J. Jackson to Mary Anna Morrison Jackson, December 2, 1859

December 2d.

John Brown was hung to-day at about half-past eleven A. M. He behaved with unflinching firmness. The arrangements were well made and well executed under the direction of Colonel Smith. The gibbet was erected in a large field, southeast of the town. Brown rode on the head of his coffin from his prison to the place of execution. The coffin was of black walnut, enclosed in a box of poplar of the same shape as the coffin. He was dressed in a black frock-coat, black pantaloons, black vest, black slouch hat, white socks, and slippers of predominating red. There was nothing around his neck but his shirt collar. The open wagon in which he rode was strongly guarded on all sides. Captain Williams (formerly assistant professor at the Institute) marched immediately in front of the wagon. The jailer, high-sheriff, and several others rode in the same wagon with the prisoner. Brown had his arms tied behind him, and ascended the scaffold with apparent cheerfulness. After reaching the top of the platform, he shook hands with several who were standing around him. The sheriff placed the rope around his neck, then threw a white cap over his head, and asked him if he wished a signal when all should be ready. He replied that it made no difference, provided he was not kept waiting too long. In this condition he stood for about ten minutes on the trap-door, which was supported on one side by hinges and on the other (the south side) by a rope. Colonel Smith then announced to the sheriff “all ready” — which apparently was not comprehended by him, and the colonel had to repeat the order, when the rope was cut by a single blow, and Brown fell through about five inches, his knees falling on a level with the position occupied by his feet before the rope was cut. With the fall his arms, below the elbows, flew up horizontally, his hands clinched; and his arms gradually fell, but by spasmodic motions. There was very little motion of his person for several moments, and soon the wind blew his lifeless body to and fro. His face, upon the scaffold, was turned a little east of south, and in front of him were the cadets, commanded by Major Gilman. My command was still in front of the cadets, all facing south. One howitzer I assigned to Mr. Trueheart on the left of the cadets, and with the other I remained on the right. Other troops occupied different positions around the scaffold, and altogether it was an imposing but very solemn scene. I was much impressed with the thought that before me stood a man in the full vigor of health, who must in a few moments enter eternity. I sent up the petition that he might be saved. Awful was the thought that he might in a few minutes receive the sentence, “Depart, ye wicked, into everlasting fire!”  I hope that he was prepared to die, but I am doubtful. He refused to have a minister with him. His wife visited him last evening. His body was taken back to the jail, and at six o'clock P. M. was sent to his wife at Harper's Ferry. When it arrived, the coffin was opened, and his wife saw the remains, after which it was again opened at the depot before leaving for Baltimore, lest there should be an imposition. We leave for home via Richmond to-morrow.

SOURCE: Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), p. 130-2