power to stir his pulses as the rebel yell.  “I remember,” says a staff-officer, “one night, at tattoo, that this cry broke forth in the camp of the Stonewall Brigade, and was taken up by brigades and divisions until it rang out far over field and woods.  The general came hastily and bareheaded from his tent, and leaning on a fence near by, listened in silence to the rise, the climax, and the fall of that strange serenade, raising his head to catch the sound, as it grew fainter and fainter and died away at last like an echo among the mountains.  Then, turning towards his tent, he muttered in half soliloquy, “That was the sweetest music I ever heard."”

Yet least of all was Jackson a mere fighting soldier, trusting to his lucky star and resolute blows to pull him through.  He was not, indeed, one of those generals who seek to win victories without shedding blood.  He never spared his men, either in marching or fighting, when a great result was to be achieved, and he was content with nothing less than the complete annihilation of the enemy.  “Had we taken ten sail,” said Nelson, “and allowed the eleventh to escape, when it had been possible to have got at her, I could never have called it well done.”  Jackson was of the same mind.  “With God’s blessing,” he said before the Valley campaign, “let us make thorough work of it.”  When once he had joined battle, no loss, no suffering was permitted to stay his hand.  He never dreamed of retreat until he had put in his last reserve.  Yet his victories were won rather by sweat than blood, by skilful manoeuvring rather than sheer hard fighting.  Solicitous as he was of the comfort of his men, he had no hesitation, when his opportunity was ripe, of taxing their powers of endurance to the uttermost.  But the marches which strewed the wayside with the footsore and the weaklings won his battles.  The enemy, surprised and outnumbered, was practically beaten before a shot was fired, and success was attained at a trifling cost.

Yet, despite his energy, Jackson was eminently patient.  He knew when to refuse battle, just as well as he knew when to deliver it.  He was never induced to fight except on his own terms, that is, on his own ground, and at his own time, save at Kernstown only, and there the strategical situation forced his hand.  And he was eminently cautious.  Before he committed himself to movement he deliberated long, and he never attacked until he had ample information.  He ran risks, and great ones, but in war the nettle danger must be boldly grasped, and in Jackson’s case the dangers were generally more apparent than real.  Under his orders the cavalry became an admirable instrument of reconnaissance.  He showed a marked sagacity for selecting scouts, both officers and privates, and his system for obtaining intelligence was well-nigh perfect.  He had the rare faculty, which would appear instinctive, but which is the fruit of concentrated thought allied to a wide knowledge of war, of divining