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Updated: June 7, 2025
Hountsell handed in his written excuse as follows, "I am reported by Major Jackson for failing, at artillery drill, to trot. My excuse is, I am a natural pacer." It would be interesting to know the workings of Stonewall's mind when perusing this reply. After reaching Harper's Ferry two more six-pound brass pieces were received for this battery from Richmond.
I heard Captain Poague, on being informed who No. 3 was, shout, "Ned Moore, where is that priming-wire?" I replied, "It is in the limber-chest where it belongs." There were a good many people around, and I did not wish it to appear that I had misplaced my little priming-wire in the excitement of covering Stonewall's retreat. The captain yelled, as I thought unnecessarily, "It isn't there!"
"I tould him," said he, "I hadn't a cint, but he poured me a tin chuck-full. With thanks in me eyes I turned off the whole of it, then kindled me pipe and stood close by the still. Ah! me lad, how the liquor wint through me! In thray minits I didn't care a domn for all the captins in old Stonewall's army!"
I am a hero worshiper; an insatiable devourer of biographies; and I say that no man in all the splendid list ever equaled Edmund Stonewall. You smile because you have never heard his name, for, until now, his biography has not been written. And this is not truly a biography; it is only the story of the crowning event in Stonewall's career.
It was his general upon whom so many were looking, but there was curiosity among Stonewall's men, too, about Lee. As Harry drew back a little while the two generals talked, he found himself again with the officers of the Invincibles. "He has grown gray since we were with him in Mexico, Hector," he heard Colonel Leonidas Talbot say to Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.
But that twenty-ninth was a year later, when New Orleans for three hundred and sixty-five separate soul-torturing days had been sitting in the twilight of her captivity, often writhing and raving in it, starved to madness for news of Lee's and Stonewall's victories and of her boys, her ragged, gaunt, superb, bleeding, dying, on-pressing boys, and getting only such dubious crumbs of rumor as could be smuggled in, or such tainted bad news as her captors delighted to offer her through the bars of a confiscated press.
"He's supposed to be a student of a top general back in the American Civil War. Uses some of the original Stonewall's tactics." Max was out of his depth. "American Civil War? Was that much of a fracas, captain? It musta been before my time." "It was quite a fracas," Joe said dryly. "Lot of good lads died.
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