beaming, stepped back from the table. "For
General Jackson, with General Stuart's esteem and admiration!"

Stonewall Jackson, big, too, and to appearance simple, looked under the
forage cap, smiled, and with one lean brown finger touched almost
timidly the beautiful, spotless cadet cloth. "Major von Borcke, you will
give General Stuart my best thanks. He is, indeed, good. All this," he
gravely indicated the loaded table, "is much too fine for the hard work
I'd have to give it, and I shall have it put away for the present. But
you tell General Stuart, major, that I will take the best care of his
beautiful present, and that I will always prize it highly as a souvenir.
It is, I think, about one o'clock. You will stay to dinner with me, I
hope, major."

But the banks of the Opequon uttered a protest. "Oh, general!"--"My
general, you will hurt his feelings."--"General, just try it on, at
least!" "Let us have our way, sir, just this once! We have been right
good, haven't we? and we do so want to see you in it!"--"General Stuart
will certainly want to know how it fits--" "Please, sir,"--"_Gineral,
Miss Anna sholy would like ter see you in hit!_"

Ten minutes elapsed while the Opequon rippled by and the crimson gum
leaves drifted down, then somewhat bashfully from the tent came forth
Stonewall Jackson metamorphosed. Triumph perched upon the helms of the
staff and the visiting cavalry. "Oh!--Oh!--" "General Stuart will be so
happy!" "General, the review this afternoon! General, won't you review
us _that way_?"

He did. At first the men did not know him, then there mounted a wild
excitement. Suppressed with difficulty during the actual evolutions, it
burst into flower when the ranks were broken. The sun was setting in a
flood of gold; there hung a fairy light over the green fields and the
Opequon and the vivid woods. The place rang to the frolic shouting. It
had the most delighted sound. "Stonewall! Stonewall Jackson! Stonewall!
Stonewall! Old Jack! Old Jack! Old Jack!"

Old Jack touched his beautiful hat of a lieutenant-general. Little
Sorrel beneath him moved with a jerk of the head and a distended
nostril. The men noticed that, too. "He don't know him either! Oh, Lord!
Oh, Lord! Ain't life worth while? Ain't it grand?--Stonewall!
Stonewall!"

On went the gold October, passing at last in a rain and drift of leaves
into a russet November. The curls of wood smoke showed plainer down the
glades, the crows were cawing, the