It behaved decently under their powerful artillery, but it was a rough ordeal for such inexperienced soldiers ; and General Lee saw the necessity of sustaining them. A brook was running between the two armies. Division after Division crossed it to climb the fortified slopes. General Lee was pressing their march ; and yet, counting what he had left, he was evaluating the time when all his reserves would be engaged in the fight.
Southern historians like to represent Lee on this beautiful, fine day of June ; firm on his gray horse, Traveler -- the horse that was to remain faithful in all his campaigns -- wearing a simple uniform without any decorations, observing, with calm, the course of the action. One would think they wanted to honor, from its first manifestation, that military example whose glory never ceased growing for three years and possessed the rare privilege of remaining pure and undaunted amidst the hatreds and rancors of a civil war.
In spite of his 54 years, General Lee was still the intrepid horseman of Arlington -- the heroic walker of Pedrigale. He had lost nothing yet of his youth′s elastic vigor. His tall size, the regularity of his features, the penetrating but kind expression of his dark eyes, his serious but always kindly manners, commanded respect at first sight. Here was, without doubt, the Chief one must obey. But what opened all hearts to him was the charm -- so difficult to define, even by chose who have felt it -- that natures really