"
The two lads and General Stuart fell to work with energy. General Lee
ate more sparingly. Stuart was a boy himself, talking much and running
over with fun.
"Have you heard what happened to General Early, sir?" he asked the
commander-in-chief.
"Not yet."
"But you will, sir, to-morrow. Early will be slow in sending you
that dispatch. He hasn't had time to write it yet. He's not through
swearing."
"General Early is a valiant and able man, but I disapprove of his
swearing."
"Why, sir, 'Old Jube' can't help it. It's a part of his breathing,
and man cannot live without breath. He sent one of his best aides with
a dispatch to General Hill, who is posted some distance away. Passing
through a thick cedar wood the aide was suddenly set upon by a genuine
stage villain, large, dark and powerful, who clubbed him over the head
with the butt of a pistol, and then departed with his dispatch."
"And what happened then?"
"The aide returned to General Early with his story, but without his
dispatch. The general believed his account, of course, but he called
him names for allowing himself to be surprised and overcome by a single
Yankee. He cursed until the air for fifty yards about him smelled
strongly of sulphur and brimstone.
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