answered feebly, but distinctly enough to be heard above
the din, 'You must hold your ground, General Fender; you must hold
out to the last, sir.'"

His strength was now completely gone, and he asked to be allowed to
lie down. His staff-officers, however, refused assent. The shells
were still crashing through the forest, and a litter having been
brought up by Captain Leigh, he was carried slowly towards Dowdall's
Tavern. But before they were free of the tangled wood, one of the
stretcher-bearers, struck by a shot in the arm, let go the handle.
Jackson fell violently to the ground on his wounded side. His agony
must have been intense, and for the first time he was heard to groan.

Smith sprang to his side, and as he raised his head a bright beam of
moonlight made its way through the thick foliage, and rested upon his
white and lacerated face. The aide-de-camp was startled by its great
pallor and stillness, and cried out, "General, are you seriously
hurt?" "No, Mr. Smith, don't trouble yourself about me," he replied
quietly, and added some words about winning the battle first, and
attending to the wounded afterwards. He was again placed upon the
litter, and carried a few hundred yards, still followed by the
Federal shells, to where his medical director was waiting with an
ambulance.

Dr. McGuire knelt down beside him and said, "I hope you are not badly
hurt, General?" He replied very calmly but feebly, "I am badly
injured, doctor, I fear I am dying." After a pause he went on, "I am
glad you have come. I think the wound in my shoulder is still
bleeding." The bandages were readjusted and he was lifted into the
ambulance, where Colonel Crutchfield, who had also been seriously
wounded, was already lying. Whisky and morphia were administered, and
by the light of pine torches, carried by a few soldiers, he was
slowly driven through the fields where Hooker's right had so lately
fled before his impetuous onset. All was done that could ease his
sufferings, but some jolting of the ambulance over the rough road was
unavoidable; "and yet," writes Dr. McGuire, "his uniform politeness
did not forsake him even in these most trying circumstances. His
complete control, too, over his mind, enfeebled as it was by loss of
blood and pain, was wonderful. His suffering was intense; his hands
were cold, his skin clammy. But not a groan escaped him--not a sign
of suffering, except the light corrugation of the brow, the fixed,
rigid face, the