But the admiration for Jackson was by no means confined to his own soldiers and to his own section.
There was a nuisance in the service known as the army correspondent.
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.
It was not war, it was murder.
Our gloomy Presbyterian ideas encourage fear of God, not love for him.
We were lavish of blood in those days, and it was thought to be a grand thing to charge a battery or an earth-work lined with infantry.