She turned to the grave again, her gaze fixed on the striking figure of
the grief-stricken father, bare-headed, straight as an arrow, his fine
face silhouetted against the shining Southern sky. The mother stood back
amid the shadows, in her somber wrappings, her tall figure drooped in
pitiful grief.
The leader turned quickly from his personal sorrows to those of his
country, his indomitable courage rising to greater heights as dangers
thickened.
Two weeks later General Sheridan attempted what Dahlgren tried and
failed to accomplish.
The President hurried from his office to his home, seized his pistols,
mounted his horse and rode out to join Generals Gracie and Ransom who
were placing their skeleton brigades to repulse the attack.
The crack of rifles could be distinctly heard from the Executive
Mansion.
The mother called her children to prayers. As little Jeff knelt he
raised his chubby face and said with solemn earnestness:
"You had better have my pony saddled, and let me go out and help
father--we can pray afterwards!"
In driving Sheridan's cavalry back from Richmond General Stuart fell at
Yellow Tavern mortally wounded--the bravest of the brave--a full Major
General who had won immortal fame at thirty-one years of age.
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