Year: 1877

lighted most to Hear.


Col. Kyd Douglass, in Philadelphia Times


have referred to Maj. Jackson's
ill health. 1t took the form of dys-
pepsia, and once during the war he
told me he had suffered with it for
twenty years, and he knew of no
misery which attacked man as it
did, physically, mentally and moral
ly, and was as likely to drive one to
suicide. 1t produced in him that
simplicity OF diet which was as con-
spicuous as his simplicity of man
ners. He never was hearty eater,
but often ate of one or two things
on the table plentifully, eating some
things he did not like and liking
many things he did not eat. In the
army he rarely accepted an invita-
ton to dinner, and when he did, it
was generally to oblige his staff
He once said that he believed he
was fOnder of whisky and brandy
than any man in the army; and yet
he never tasted it. His discipline
commenced with himse and con-
trolled his appetite as firmly as he
did his troops.


In face and figure Stonewall Jack
son was not striking. Above the
average height, with frame angu-
lar, muscular, and fleshless, he was
in all his movements, from riding a
horse to handling a pen, the most
ungracetul man in the army. His
expression was thoughtful, and
generally clouded with an air of ia
tigue. His eye was small, blue, and
in repose as gentle as young girls
With high, broad forehead, small,
sharp nose, thin, pallid lips, deep set
eyes, and dark, rusty beard, he was
not handsome man. His face in the
drawing-room or tent, sonftened by
his sweet smile, was as different
from itself on the battle field as
little lake in summer noon differs
from the same lake when frozen
Walking or riding the General was
ungainly; his main object was to 90
over the ground, without regard to
the manner of going. His favorite
horse was as little like Pegasus as
he was like Apollo; he rode boldly
and well, but certainly not with
grace and ease. He was not a man
of style. General Lee, on horse
back or off, was the handsomest
man l ever saw. 1t was said of
Wade Hampton that he looked as
knightly when mounted as if he had
stepped out from an old canvas,
horse and all. Breckenridge was a
model of manly beauty, and Joe
Johnston looked every inch sol
dier. None of these things can be
said of Jackson.


A kin to his dyspepsia, and per-
haps as a consequence, was his |
ignorance of music. One morning, |
at Ashland, he startled a young lady |
from her propriety by gravely ask
ing her if she had ever heard a new
piece of music called 'Dixie," and |
as gravely listening to her while she
sang it. He had heard it thousand
thimes from the army bands and yet
it semed new to him. Judged by
the Shakspearean standard, w1o
could be more eft for treasons,
stratagems and spoils?' And yet
there was one kind of music which |
always interested and delighted him.
1t was the "rebel yell'' of his troops.
To this grand chorus he never failed
to respond. The difference between
the regular "hurrah'' of the Federal
army and the irregular, wild yell of
the Confederates was as marked as
the difference in their uniforms.
The rebel yell was a peculiar mix
ture of sounds, a kind of wierd |
shout. Jackson was greeted with |
it whenever he made his appearance |
to the troops, on the march or in |
the battle, and just invariably he |
would seize his old gray cap from
his head in acknowledgment, and |
his ''Little Sorrel," knowing his
habit, would break into a gallop |
and never halt until the shout had |
ceased.