January Twentieth
No truth is lost for which the true are weeping,
Nor dead for which they died.
Francis O. Ticknor
January Twenty-First
The following lines are remarkable in that they represent a boy’s estimate of Stonewall Jackson before the war between the States. They were written by William Fitzhugh Lee when a cadet under Jackson at the Virginia Military Institute:—
Like some rough brute that roams the forest wild,
So rude, uncouth, so purely Nature’s child,
Is “Hickory,” and yet methinks I see
The stamp of genius on his brow; and he,
With his mild glance and keen, but quiet eye,
Can draw forth from the secret recess where they lie
Those thoughts and feelings of the human heart
Most virtuous, good, and free from guilty art.
There’s something in his very mode of life
So accurate, steady, void of care and strife,
That fills my heart with love for him who bears
His honors meekly and who wears
The laurels of a hero! This is a fact,
So here’s a heart and hand for “Jack!”
Stonewall Jackson born, 1824
January Twenty-Second
Wherein, then, lay his strength, and what was the secret of his influence over all this land? I answer in one word—character. And what is meant by character? Courage? Yes; courage of his opinions, and physical courage as well; for he had a Briton’s faith in pluck. Pride of race? In a limited sense, yes. Honesty? The question is almost an insult. Love of truth? Yes, undying love of it.