The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1867-02-21


fighting was a necessity OF his blood
For this man to have been rude, course.
domineering and insulting to unprotec-
ted iadies-aS more than one Federal
general at Winchester was-that was
simply impossible. He might have
said in the words of the old Ulysses,
'Iiley give their lives, / mine.0
Such was his private character SIM
pie, beautiful, and altogether lovely
OF this man, OF fiber SO hard and IN
shrinking, Of dash, nerve, obstinacy and
daring never eXcelled in the annals Of
history. Under that sweet and friend
~ smile was the stubborn and reckless
soul of the born fighter. Under those
girls, was brain Of fire-a resolution Of
invineible strength which dared to come
at every adversary, with whatever odds.
His intellect, outside OF his profession,
was rather mediocre than otherwise,
and he wrote so badly that few Of his
productions are worth preserving. But
in the field he was a master mind. His
! eye for position was that Of the born
soldier; and he was obliged to depend
upon that native faculty, for he had new
er been to West Point or any other mil
itary sehool-They might have improv
ed him-they could not have made him.
God had given him the capacity to fight
troops; and if the dictum OF an humble
writer, loving and admiring him alive,
and now mourning him, be regarded as
unreliable, take the words of Jackson.
That cool, taciturn and unexcitable
| soldiernever gave praise which was TN
| deserved. Jackson knew Ashby as wels
as one human being ever knew another;
and after the fall of the great cavalier
| he wrote of him, Gas a partizan officer
never knew his superior. His daring
was proverbial; his powers ofendurance
almost incredible, his tone OF character
| heroic; and his sagacity almost intuitive
in divining the purposes and movements
of the enemy.".' The man who wrote
these words had himself some sagacity
| in s.divining the purposes and move
ments of the enemy" and could recog-
nize that trait in others.
The writer of this page had the honor
of brief acquaintance only with the
dead chief Of the valley cavalry, but the
sweet accents of his friendly voice and
the mild light OF the kindly brown eyes
still dwell ia his memory. 1t seems to
| him now, as he remembers Ashby, that
! the hand he touched was that OLA veri-
table child Of chivalry. Neverdid faint
of arrogance or vanity, Of rudeness or
| full spirit. This man Of daring, so pro-
verbal, ofpowers OF endurance SO in
credible, of character so heroic, and Of
sagacity so uniailing that it drew forth
the praise Of Jackson, was as simple as
a child, and never seemed to dream that
he had accomplished anything to make
him famous But famous he was and
is, and will be forever. The bitter strug
gle in which he bore SO noble Il part has
ended-the great flag under which he
fought is ftlrled, and none are so poor
as to Go it reverence. But in failure,
defeat, and ruin, this great name sur
vives-the cloud is not SO black that
the pure star of Ashby's fame does not
shine out in the darkness. In the MEM
cries and hearts of the people ofthe Val
ley his glory is as fresh to day as when
he fell. He rises up in memory, at once
his milk-white steed, leading the wild
charge, or slowly pacing up and down
defiantly, with proud face turned over
the shoulder, amid the bullets. Others
may forget him--We of the Valley can
not. For us his noble smile still shines
as it shone amid those glorious encoun-
tiers of the days of Jackson, when from
every hilltop he hurled defiance upon
Banks and Fremont, and in every val
ley met the heavy columns OF the Fed
eral cavalry. saber to salAr. He is dead,
but still lives. That career-brief, fiery.
crammed with glorious shocks, with
desperate encounters-is a thing of the
past; and Ashby has ''passed like q
dream away" But it is only the bod
| les of such men that die. All that is
noble in them survives. What comes
to the mind now when we pronounce
the name OF Ashby, is that pure devo-
ton to truth and honor which shone in
every act Of his life-that kind, good
heart OF hi, which made all love him
that resolution which he early made,
to spend the last drop of blood for the
cause in which he fought--and the dar-
ing beyond all words, which drove him
on to combat whatever force was in his
front We are proud--leave us that
at least-tlat this good knight came of
the homestead Virginia blood. He tried
to do his duty, and counted toll, and
danger, and hunger, and thirst and
exhaustion as nothing. He died as he
had lived, in harness, I'D lighting t.
the last. Ia an unknown skirmish OF
which not even the name is preserved
the fatal bullet came--the wave ofdeath
rolled Over BIN and the august figure
6isappeared. But that form is not lost