Finally when the firing ceased, General Jackson was removed from the battlefield to a hospital, and then to Mr. Chandler's house at Guinea Station, where he died, May 10, 1863. Lieutenant Smith became The Reverend when war ceased, and married Miss Agnes Lucy Lacy, a daughter of Major J. Horace Lacy. He was well known in Fredericksburg. For thirty years he was pastor here; for fifty years Secretary of the Presbyterian Synod, and for years editor of the Central Presbyterian. Many know his works. All men know the deep, immovable courage it took that night to lie as a barrier, to take whatever death might be hurled down the shell-swept road toward "Stonewall" Jackson. He still lives, in 1921, in Richmond. His voice is low, his smile soft, and his religion his life. He is the last surviving member of "Stonewall" Jackson's staff. MAJOR J. HORACE LACY There are many living now who remember him. The strong, stolid figure, the fine old face traced with the lineage of gentility, the cane that pounded down the sidewalks as he went where he willed. There are some left who knew the power and poetry and kindliness of the man. Major Lacy was a graduate of Washington and Lee and an attorney at law, though he seldom practiced. He was married in 1848 at Chatham, when he was twenty-four years of age, to Miss Betty Churchill Jones, and later became the owner of "Chatham" and of the "Lacy House," about each of which clings grim traditions of war; both the Wilderness place and Chatham became known in those two battles as "The Lacy House." Washington Irving was his guest while spending some time in Virginia; General Robert E. Lee was his guest, and many other widely known men. His service in war was well done. He was made a lieutenant at the beginning and promoted to major on the field of battle at Seven Pines. He served under General Joseph E. Johnston until the latter surrendered, some time after Appomattox. When the war was ended he went North to do a brave thing. He spoke through Pennsylvania and Maryland, pleading for funds to bury and put grave stones over the Confederate dead. He had experiences there. But his splendid oratory and the courage of his presence usually kept order. [Sidenote: _Winning a Hostile Audience_] He spoke once at Baltimore, and among his audience was an Irish Federal regiment, clad half in uniform, half in civilians, as forgotten ex-privates usually are. Major Lacy was told that most of the audience was hostile and threatening. He walked on the platform and spoke a few words about the unknown men he came to get funds to decently bury, of the women away where the starlight was twinkling over cabin and home, of those who waited, listening for a step; of those who were never again to see the men they loved. Shuffling feet and laughter dulled the simple pathos of his words. Then turning half away from his audience he recited a poem called "The Irish Immigrant's Lament":