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

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

Those who have happy homes seldom turn out badly.

Our gloomy Presbyterian ideas encourage fear of God, not love for him.

It was not war, it was murder.

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.

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