In forma pauperis to God
Lay bare thine arm--stretch forth thy rod,
Amen! That's Stonewall Jackson's way."

Then Happy Tom threw down his stick and the men dispersed to their
quarters. But they had paid Stonewall Jackson a tribute that few
generals ever received.

"You're a wild and foolish fellow, Tom Langdon," said Dalton, "but I
like you for this thing you've done."

"You'll notice that Old Jack never appeared while we were singing,"
said Langdon. "I don't see why a man should be so modest and bashful.
Why, if I'd done half what he's done I'd ride the tallest horse in the
country; I'd have one of those Mexican saddles of yellow leather studded
with large golden-headed nails; the stirrups would be of gold and the
bridle bit would be gold, too. I'd have twelve uniforms all covered
with gold lace, and I'd have hats with gold-colored ostrich plumes
waving in them after the fashion of Jeb Stuart."

"Don't you worry, Tom," said Dalton. "You'll never have any excuse for
wearing so much gold. Have you heard what one of the boys said after
the chaplain preached the sermon to us last Sunday about leading the
children of Israel forty years through the wilderness?"

"No, George; what was it?"

"Forty years going through the wilderness," he growled. "Why, Stonewall
Jackson would have double-quicked 'em through in three days, and on half
rations, too."