“With dirge and bell and minute gun we paid Some few poor rites, an inexpressive token, Of a great people’s pain, to Jackson’s shade, In agony unspoken. “No wailing trumpet and no tolling bell, No cannon, save the battle’s boom receding, When Stuart to the grave we bore, might tell, With hearts all crushed and bleeding ...” But the people thronged to Hollywood, above the rushing river. Hollow and hill, ivy-mantled oaks and grass purpled with violets, the place was a good one in which to lay down the outworn form that had done service and was loved. Flowers grew there with a wild luxuriance. To-day they were brought beside from all gardens— “We well remembered how he loved to dash, Into the fight, festooned from summer’s bowers. How like a fountain’s spray, his sabre flash, Leaped from a mass of flowers—” To-day flowers lined the open grave; they covered the coffin and the flag. Back in the hospital a man with three wounds wailed all night. “I had a brother and he was living up North and so he thought that-er-way. And he wrote that he held by the Nation just as hard as I held by the State. And so he up and joined the Army of the Potomac and came down here. And in the Wilderness the other day—and in the Wilderness the other day—oh, in the Wilderness the other day—I was sharpshooting! I was up in a tree, close to the bark, like a ’pecker. There was a gully below with a stream running down it, and on the other side of the gully was an oak with a man in it, close to the bark like a ’pecker. And we were Yank and Johnny Reb, and so every time one of us showed as much as the tip of a ’pecker’s wing, the other one fired. We fired and fired. And at last he wasn’t so cautious, and I got him. And first his musket fell, down and down, for he was up high. And then the body came and it hit every bough as it came. And something in me gave a word of command. It said ‘Go and look.’ I got down out of the oak, for I was in an oak tree, too, and I went down one side of the gully and up the other. And he was lying all doubled up. And I got another word of command, ‘Turn him over.’ And I did, and he was my brother.... And I’m tired of war.” CHAPTER XXVIII COLD HARBOUR