His
beautiful wife, the daughter of a Union General, Philip St. George
Cooke, could not reach his bedside before he breathed his last.
The President reverently entered the death chamber and stood for fifteen
minutes holding the hand of his brilliant young commander.
They told him that he could not live to see his wife.
"I should have liked to have seen her," he said gently, "but God's will
be done."
The doctor felt his fast fading pulse.
"Doctor, I suppose I'm going fast now," Stuart said. "It will soon be
over. I hope I have fulfilled my duty to my country and my God--"
"Your end is near, General Stuart," the doctor responded softly.
"All right," was the even answer. "I'll end my little affairs down here.
To Mrs. Robert E. Lee I give my gold spurs, in eternal memory of the
love I bear my glorious Chief. To my staff, my horses--"
He paused and turned to the heavier officer who stood with bowed head.
"You take the larger one--he'll carry you better. To my son I leave my
sword--"
He was silent a moment and then said with an effort:
"Now I want you to sing for me the song I love best:
"'Rock of ages cleft for me
Let me hide myself in thee'"--
With his fast-failing breath he joined in the song, turned and murmured:
"I'm going fast now--God's will be done--"
So passed the greatest cavalry leader our country has produced--a man
whose joyous life was one long feast of good will toward his fellow men.
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