river, and rest under the shade of the trees." He died.

* * * * *

The bells tolled, the bells tolled in Richmond, tolled from each of her
seven hills! Sombre was the sound of the minute guns, shaking the heart
of the city! Oh, this capital knew the Dead March in Saul as a child
knows his lullaby! To-day it had a depth and a height and was a dirge
indeed. To-day it wailed for a Chieftain, wailed through the streets
where the rose and magnolia bloomed, wailed as may have wailed the
trumpets when Priam brought Hector home. The great throng to either side
the streets shivered beneath the wailing, beneath the low thunder of the
drums. There was lacking no pomp of War, War who must have gauds with
which to hide his naked horror. The guns boomed, the bells tolled, the
muffled drums beat, beat! Regiments marched with reversed arms, with
colours furled. There was mournful civic pomp, mournful official. There
came a great black hearse drawn by four white horses. On it lay the body
of Stonewall Jackson, and over it was drawn the deep blue flag with the
arms of Virginia, and likewise the starry banner of the eleven
Confederate States. Oh, heart-breaking were the minute guns, and the
tolling, tolling bells, and the deep, slow, heroic music, and the
sobbing of the people! It was a cloudless day and filled with grief.
Behind the hearse trod Little Sorrel.

Beneath arching trees, by houses of mellow red brick, houses of pale
grey stucco, by old porches and ironwork balconies, by wistaria and
climbing roses and magnolias with white chalices, the long procession
bore Stonewall Jackson. By St. Paul's they bore him, by Washington and
the great bronze men in his company, by Jefferson and Marshall, by Henry
and Mason, by Lewis and Nelson. They bore him over the greensward to the
Capitol steps, and there the hearse stopped. Six generals lifted the
coffin, Longstreet going before. The bells tolled and the Dead March
rang, and all the people on the green slopes of the historic place
uncovered their heads and wept. The coffin, high-borne, passed upward
and between the great, white, Doric columns. It passed into the Capitol
and into the Hall of the Lower House. Here it rested before the
Speaker's Chair.

All day Stonewall Jackson lay in state. Twenty thousand people, from the
President of the Confederacy to the last poor wounded soldier who could
creep hither, passed before the bier, looked upon the calm face,