From the time we went to Lexington we all used to take delightful, long rambles, rather to the surprise of Lexington people, who were not quite so energetic.  We found the earliest spring flowers on the “Cliffs,” and “Cave Spring” was a favorite spot to walk to (several miles from town) stopping always for a rest at the picturesque ruins of old “Liberty Hall.”

“Liberty Hall” was the name of an old school building outside of Lexington.

Writing reproachfully to a friend for not coming to visit her, Margaret tells of the “sweet pure air of our Virginia mountains,” of the morning “overture of the birds,” “such as all the Parodis and Linds and Albonis in the world could never equal.”  She tantalizes her friend with a glowing picture of a gallop “over misty hills, down into little green shaded glens, under overhanging branches all sparkling with silvery dew.”  She tells her that they might take a walk “to ’The Cliffs,’ to see the sun go down behind yon wavy horizon of mountains, if its setting promised to be fine, and saunter back in the gloaming, just in time to have coffee handed in the free and easy social Virginia style in the library.”

In Lexington, Margaret’s first sorrow came to her, the death of her brother Joseph, whose health had not improved with the change to Lexington and who had been sent to Florida, where he found a “far-off lonely grave.”

A description of the young poet at this time is given by a girl admirer: 

Miss Maggie was the object of my secret, enthusiastic worship.  She was not exactly pretty, but her slight figure, fair complexion and beautiful auburn curls furnished a piquant setting for her refined, intelligent countenance which made up for the lack of mere beauty.  I used to thrill with admiration as I watched her riding at a swift gallop, a little black velvet cap showing off her fairness, the long curls blowing about her face....

We wondered that a person who could write poetry, which seemed to our limited experience a sort of miraculous gift, should condescend to talk to us about our studies and games as if she were one of us.

It was in Lexington that her power reached its full development, and she even took prizes in magazines and newspapers for some stories with what her friends called “prim heroes and pasteboard heroines,” classifications which she good-naturedly accepted, as she readily acknowledged that she had no gift for story-telling.

In Lexington, Margaret’s sister, Eleanor, met the grave and dignified Major T.J.  Jackson, Professor of Mathematics in the Virginia Military Institute, and in 1853 was married to him.  Here the death of the sweet and gentle mother brought to the life of Margaret Junkin its crowning sorrow, and shortly afterward the lovely young wife of Major Jackson left the earthly home.