night ambuscades, fought and won the battle of Winchester at early morning, pursued the enemy through that noble little city, where similar wayside scenes were exhibited by gentle and tender women, regardless of the running fight going on in the streets where they were, left the city behind them and went into bivouac six miles beyond after twenty-seven consecutive hours of marching and fighting. Jackson afterwards called on them repeatedly for almost incredible efforts. During the same campaign he demanded of a portion of them thirty-five consecutive hours of marching and fighting, including two pitched battles; but from the time of that pathetic march down the Valley, no murmur was heard in his command. Ever afterwards, to the bitter end—even when incorporated with that grand Army of Northern Virginia under the immortal chief to whom they equally with Jackson looked up with reverence—they felt unshaken confidence in their corps commander. If at any time the thin ranks on their right or their left or in their own line were broken by overwhelming numbers, they would comfort one another with the words, "never mind, boys, old Stonewall is here."
Mr. Chairman, in the army of Italy there once fell a soldier of the ranks, fighting grandly beneath the eye of his General—afterwards the imperial master of Europe. Next morning orders came from headquarters that henceforth forever, when the roll of his regiment shall be called, the name of that fallen hero should be called among them, and that the answer should come back from the ranks—"Dead upon the field of glory." Oh, Mr. Chairman! Oh, God! if a solemn roll-call could be had this night of the regiment to which belonged the gallant boys of whom I have told you and of the many other regiments in which marched their comrades in peril and in trial, the answer would come back from the ranks in the great majority of cases, "Dead upon the field of glory."
One night there lay in the outer trenches, confronting a dark redan, " brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, and from the banks of Shannon," who "sang of Annie Laurie." Next day they married immortality, and the music of their bridal march was the deep roar of the artillery and the sharp crash and rattle of the rifles and the musketry. These men illustrated for the thousandth time, Mr. Chairman, not more than the dear boys of whom I have told you, the precious truth that "the bravest are the tenderest, the loving are the daring."
