ut his last years were made
happy by her companionship, and comfortable by the wealth she had
brought him. Dear Dick Ewell! Virginia never bred a truer gentleman, a
braver soldier, nor an odder, more lovable fellow.

On the second day in this camp General Winder came to me and said that
he had asked leave to go to Richmond, been refused, and resigned. He
commanded Jackson's old brigade, and was aggrieved by some unjust
interference. Holding Winder in high esteem, I hoped to save him to the
army, and went to Jackson, to whose magnanimity I appealed, and to
arouse this dwelt on the rich harvest of glory he had reaped in his
brilliant campaign. Observing him closely, I caught a glimpse of the
man's inner nature. It was but a glimpse. The curtain closed, and he was
absorbed in prayer. Yet in that moment I saw an ambition boundless as
Cromwell's, and as merciless. This latter quality was exhibited in his
treatment of General Richard Garnett, cousin to Robert Garnett, before
mentioned, and his codisciple at West Point. I have never met officer or
soldier, present at Kernstown, who failed to condemn the harsh treatment
of Garnett after that action. Richard Garnett was subsequently restored
to command at my instance near Jackson, and fell on the field of
Gettysburg.

No reply was made to my effort for Winder, and I rose to take my leave,
when Jackson said he would ride with me. We passed silently along the
way to my camp, where he left me. That night a few lines came from
Winder, to inform me that Jackson had called on him, and his resignation
was withdrawn.

Charles Winder was born in Maryland, graduated at West Point in 1850,
embarked soon thereafter for California in charge of a detachment of
recruits, was wrecked on the coast, and saved his men by his coolness
and energy. He left the United States army to join the Confederacy, and
was killed at Cedar Run some weeks after this period. Had he lived, he
would have reached and adorned high position.

And now a great weariness and depression fell upon me. I was threatened
with a return of the illness experienced the previous autumn. For many
weeks I had received no intelligence from my family. New Orleans had
fallen, and my wife and children resided there or on an estate near the
city. I hoped to learn of them at Richmond; change might benefit health,
and matters were quiet in the Valley. Accordingly, a short leave was
asked for and granted; and although I returned within th