The vast army of McClellan spread out before me. The marching columns extended back as far as eye could see in the distance. It was a grand and glorious spectacle, and it was impossible to look at it without admiration.

Those who have happy homes seldom turn out badly.

As each brigade emerged from the woods, from 50 to 100 guns opened upon it, tearing great gaps in its ranks; but the heroes pressed on and were shot down by reserves at the guns. It was not war, it was murder.

It was not war, it was murder.

But the admiration for Jackson was by no means confined to his own soldiers and to his own section.

Jackson was not a religious man when he came to Lexington.

There was a nuisance in the service known as the army correspondent.