40. XL.
A CHAPTER ENTIRELY WITHOUT INCIDENT.
It was already autumn when we reached Eagle's-Nest, and the
September days had begun to tint the woods with the rich colors
of the fall. The old house, perched upon its lofty hill above
the Rappahannock, seemed to hold out arms of welcome; and I
greeted all the old familiar scenes and sights with the ardor of an
exile coming home, once more, after years of absence.
The sight of the ancient mansion, buried in its trees, was
“Welcome as the hand
Of brother in a foreign land,”
as says the sweetest and most musical—to my ear, at least—of all
the Northern poets; and I know not what emotion of boyish
yearning came to me as I entered the old hall, and murmured,
“After all, there is nothing like home!”
The old pointer on the porch came forward frisking to receive
my salutation; the portraits seemed to smile upon me; and
as I passed the picture of Philip Surry the cavalier, I thought the
eyes followed and spoke to me.
My wound was slow in healing, and I was driven to my books
for amusement. What a world of thought and emotion lies open
at the feet of the student! Books are the depositories of the
thoughts of the great—and these thoughts, more than all else,
stimulate the intellect. I have known some men, whose minds
were a very thin soil indeed, but who had read so much that a
very good crop was the result! When the soil is naturally
strong, the culture of the student makes the intellectual giant.
Unfortunately, the present writer read only for amusement,
and had an “ill-regulated mind.” It was the honey that I sought,
not the fruit; and in the sunny mornings, in my chair upon the
portico, it was a volume of romance or poetry, not history or
philosophy, which enabled me to pass the hours so pleasantly.
Sometimes the open book lay for hours almost on my knee,
and I mused upon a hundred things—upon my visit to the Wilderness,
Violet Grafton, Mordaunt, May Beverley, the meeting
with Will, and then came the gay laugh of Stuart breaking on
the silence, and heard almost with the material ear. The trees
rustled in the fresh September airs; Annie ran to place in my
button-hole a bunch of autumn flowers; the great river flowed
below the hills—a ribbon of silver on a tissue of emerald; and
Eagle's-Nest, and all thereunto appertaining, was a lazy, tranquil
picture of an old Virginia home.
With the advent of October I grew stronger, and finally ventured
out with my gun after the partridges. Then, enamored
of the glorious days, I fitted up my boat, and went duck-shooting
on the Rappahannock. One day, when I had gotten thoroughly
wet at this sport, I returned with a hot feeling about the head.
On the next morning I could scarcely get out of bed, and that
evening had a burning fever.
It lasted me almost until spring, and brought me to death's
door.
During my illness I heard little of politics or war. I only knew
that the North had determined to carry on hostilities with greater
energy than ever, and that immense armaments were marshalling
by land and sea to force the South back into the Union.
Johnston and Beauregard remained at Centreville, facing the Federal
army, now commanded by General McClellan; and Jackson
had been appointed Major-General, and, proceeding to Winchester,
had made an expedition against the enemy on the Upper Potomac,
which had resulted in their retreat from that region. I
had received a letter from him, enclosing an official document,
and this had proved to be my appointment as Major, which, I had
no doubt, his friendship had secured for me.
Among the figures which peopled my musings, you will no
doubt understand, my dear reader, that a certain young lady had
a prominent place. I have not insisted upon raving about her,
but she was seldom out of my mind. I always got back, however,
after my extensive trains of reflection, to the point from
which I started—that my best plan was, to stay away from her.
“It is for every young lady to decide her own destiny,” I muttered
with gloomy pride; “and she has decided to marry that
man. I would like to go and cut his throat, but that would not
mend matters!” And, turning over in my bed, I would try to
think of something else.
In February I left my bed, and by the first of March had nearly
regained my strength. My purpose was to return at the earliest
possible moment to my duties, and, thanks to my father, I was
supplied with a good horse to replace those which I had lost.
My servant had followed me from Manassas to Elm Cottage,
and from Elm Cottage to Eagle's-Nest. He responded with
grins to my announcement that I was ready to return to camp,
the lazy life of which the sable individual dearly loved; and in
the first week of March I set out to rejoin General Jackson.
This time I had not the sign of an incident upon the way, and
I did not stop at The Oaks. Crossing the Blue Ridge at Ashby's
Gap, and passing through the little village of Millwood without
drawing rein, I was directed to, and on a raw March evening
reached, General Jackson's head-quarters near Winchester.
