He fell from his horse, and was borne back, already dying. That night,
amid the thunder of the exploding magazines, the commander, first, of
the "light division," and then of a great corps--the hero of Cold
Harbor, Sharpsburg, and a hundred other battles--was buried in the city
cemetery, just in time to avoid seeing the flag he had fought under,
lowered.
Peace to the ashes of that brave! Old Virginia had no son more
faithful!
Fort Gregg was the last obstacle. At ten o'clock that had fallen, heavy
masses of the enemy were pushing forward. Their bristling battalions,
and long lines of artillery had advanced nearly to General Lee's
head-quarters, a mile west of Petersburg.
As the great blue wave surged forward, General Lee, in full-dress
uniform, and wearing his gold-hilted sword, looked at them through his
field glasses from the lawn, in front of his head-quarters, on foot,
and surrounded by his staff. I have never seen him more composed.
Chancing to address him, he saluted me with the calmest and most
scrupulous courtesy; and his voice was as measured and unmoved as
though he were attending a parade. Do you laugh at us, friends of the
North, for our devotion to Lee? You should have seen him that day, when
ruin stared him in the face; you would have known then, the texture of
that stout Virginia heart.
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