His youngest son who bore his name, was also a lawyer; he held positions of trust in his native State, Virginia, as well as in Illinois and Missouri where he held the responsible and honored position of a United States judge. Our general’s father, Archibald Stuart, the son of Judge Stuart, after a brief military career in the War of 1812, became a successful lawyer. His wit and eloquence soon won him distinction, and his district sent him as representative to the Congress of the United States where he served four years. There is an interesting story told about General Stuart’s mother’s grandfather, William Letcher. He had enraged the Loyalists, or Tories, on the North Carolina border, by a defeat that he and a little company of volunteers had inflicted on them in the War of the Revolution. One day in June, 1780, as Mrs. Letcher was alone at home with her baby girl, only six weeks old, a stranger, dressed as a hunter and carrying a gun in his hand, appeared at the door and asked for Letcher. While his wife was explaining that he would be at home in a short time, he entered and asked the man to be seated. The latter, however, raised his gun, saying: “I demand you in the name of the king.” When Letcher tried to seize the gun, the Tory fired and the patriot fell mortally wounded, in the presence of his young wife and babe. Bethenia Letcher, the tiny fatherless babe, grew to womanhood and married David Pannill; and her daughter, Elizabeth Letcher Pannill, married Archibald Stuart, the father of our hero. Mrs. Archibald Stuart inherited from her grandfather, William Letcher, a large estate in Patrick county. The place, commanding fine views of the Blue Ridge mountains, was called Laurel Hill, and here in a comfortable old mansion set amid a grove of oak trees, Jeb Stuart was born and spent the earlier years of his boyhood. Mrs. Stuart was a great lover of flowers and surrounding the house was a beautiful old-fashioned flower garden, where Jeb, who loved flowers as much as his mother did, spent many happy days. He always loved this boyhood home and often thought of it during the hard and stirring years of war. Once near the close of the war, he told his brother that he would like nothing better, when the long struggle was at an end, than to go back to the old home and live a quiet, peaceful life. When Jeb was fourteen years old, he was sent to school in Wytheville, and in 1848 he entered Emory and Henry College. Here, under the influence of a religious revival, he joined the Methodist church, but about ten years later he became a member of the Episcopal church of which his wife was a member.