e never
betrayed irritation, and in the lecture-room or elsewhere he was
kindness itself; but his own life had been filled from boyhood with
earnest purpose and high ambition. Hard work was more to his taste
than amusement. Time, to his mind, was far too valuable to be wasted,
and he made few allowances for the thoughtlessness and indolence of
irresponsible youth. As a relief possibly to the educational
treadmill, his class delighted in listening to the story of Contreras
and Chapultepec; but there was nothing about Jackson which
corresponded with a boy's idea of a hero. His aggressive punctuality,
his strict observance of military etiquette, his precise
interpretation of orders, seemed to have as little in common with the
fierce excitement of battle as the uninteresting occupations of the
Presbyterian deacon, who kept a Sunday school for negroes, had with
the reckless gaiety of the traditional sabreur.

"And yet," says one who know him, "they imbibed the principles he
taught. Slowly and certainly were they trained in the direction which
the teacher wished. Jackson justly believed that the chief value of
the Institute consisted in the habits of system and obedience which
it impressed on the ductile characters of the cadets, and regarded
any relaxation of the rules as tending to destroy its usefulness. His
conscientiousness seemed absurd to the young gentlemen who had no
idea of the importance of military orders or of the implicit
obedience which a good soldier deems it his duty to pay to them. But
which was right--the laughing young cadet or the grave major of
artillery? Let the thousands who in the bitter and arduous struggle
of the Civil War were taught by stern experience the necessity of
strict compliance with all orders, to the very letter, answer the
question."* (* Cooke page 28.)

"As exact as the multiplication table, and as full of things military
as an arsenal," was the verdict passed on Jackson by one of his
townsmen, and it appears to have been the opinion of the community at
large.

Jackson, indeed, was as inarticulate as Cromwell. Like the great
Protector he "lived silent," and like him he was often misunderstood.
Stories which have been repeated by writer after writer attribute to
him the most grotesque eccentricities of manner, and exhibit his
lofty piety as the harsh intolerance of a fanatic. He has been
represented as the narrowest of Calvinists; and so general was the
belief in his stern and merc