“We recall him as he appeared in the hour of victory, grand, imposing, awe-inspiring, yet self-forgetful and humble.  We recall the great scenes of his triumph, when we hailed him victor on many a bloody field, and when above the paeans of victory we listened with reverence to his voice as he ascribed ’all glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are.’  We remember that grand magnanimity that never stooped to pluck those meaner things that grew nearest the earth upon the tree of victory, but which, with eyes turned toward the stars, and hands raised toward heaven, gathered the golden fruits of mercy, pity, and holy charity, that ripen on its topmost boughs beneath the approving smile of the great God of battles.  We remember the sublime self-abnegation of Chancellorsville, when, in the midst of his victorious legions, who, with the light of battle yet on their faces, hailed him conqueror, he thought only of his great lieutenant lying wounded on the field, and transferred to him all the honor of that illustrious day.

“I will be pardoned, I am sure, for referring to an incident which affords to my mind a most striking illustration of one of the grandest features of his character.  On the morning of May 3, 1863, as many of you will remember, the final assault was made upon the Federal lines at Chancellorsville.  General Lee accompanied the troops in person, and as they emerged from the fierce combat they had waged in ’the depths of that tangled wilderness,’ driving the superior forces of the enemy before them across the open ground, he rode into their midst.  The scene is one that can never be effaced from the minds of those who witnessed it.  The troops were pressing forward with all the ardor and enthusiasm of combat.  The white smoke of musketry fringed the front of the line of battle, while the artillery on the hills in the rear of the infantry shook the earth with its thunder, and filled the air with the wild shrieks of the shells that plunged into the masses of the retreating foe.  To add greater horror and sublimity to the scene, the Chancellorsville House and the woods surrounding it were wrapped in flames.  In the midst of this awful scene, General Lee, mounted upon that horse which we all remember so well, rode to the front of his advancing battalions.  His presence was the signal for one of those uncontrollable outbursts of enthusiasm which none can appreciate who have not witnessed them.  The fierce soldiers, with their faces blackened with the smoke of battle; the wounded, crawling with feeble limbs from the fury of the devouring flames, all seemed possessed with a common impulse.  One long, unbroken cheer, in which the feeble cry of those who lay helpless on the earth blended with the strong voices of those who still fought, rose high above the roar of battle and hailed the presence of the victorious chief.  He sat in the full realization of all that soldiers dream of—­triumph; and, as I looked upon him in the complete fruition of the