John Esten Cooke

“ But the column can not pause. It is “do or die.” In their faces are thrust the muzzles of muskets spouting flame. Whole ranks go down in the fire. The survivors close up, utter a fierce cheer, and rush straight at the second tier of works.
Then is seen a spectacle which will long be remembered with a throb of the heart by many. The thinned ranks of the Virginians are advancing, unmoved, into the very jaws of death. They go forward—and are annihilated. At every step death meets them. The furious fire of the enemy, on both flanks and in their front, hurls them back, mangled and dying. ”

“ In all those hard combats, no ball or shell ever struck him. The glance of the blue eyes seemed to conquer Danger, and render Death powerless. He seemed to bear a charmed life, and to pass amid showers of bullets without peril or fear of the result. It was not from the enemy's artillery alone that he ran the greatest danger in battle. He was never content to remain at his guns if they were silent. His mind was full of the contest, pondering its chances, as though he had command of the whole army himself; he never rested in his exertions to penetrate the designs of the enemy. ”

“ President, after the interval of three-quarters of a century, when your jealous eye has ranged down the record and traced the names that history will never let die, you come to the name—the only name in all the annals of history that can be named in the perilous connection—of Robert E. Lee, the second Washington. Well may old Virginia be proud of her twin sons! born almost a century apart, but shining like those binary stars which open their glory and shed their splendor on the darkness of the world. ”

“ Why not catch the laughter of those youthful lips, and tell how the young men and maidens amused themselves that fine autumn day? Everything innocent and fresh is beautiful—and there are eyes which shine more brightly than the sun, voices which make a softer music than the breezes of October in the laughing trees. Redbud's face and voice had this innocence and joy in it—there was pleasure in the very sound of it; and such a delicate kind of light in the soft eyes, that as they went, the young men felt more pure, and bowed to her, as something better than themselves—of higher nature. ”

“ Honor was left us—and the angels of home! As the sorrowful survivors of the great army came back, as they reached their old homes, dragging their weary feet after them, or urging on their jaded horses, suddenly the sunshine burst forth for them, and lit up their rags with a sort of glory. The wife, the mother, and the little child rushed to them. Hearts beat fast, as the gray uniforms were clasped in a long embrace. Those angels of home loved the poor prisoners better in their dark days than in their bright. ”