woman who graced his charming home. Many men would have considered it their duty to remain at home under the circumstances, especially as young Newman's wide popularity gave him every promise of high political preferment. But when at 12 o'clock, April 17, 1861, there came a telegram from the governor of Virginia, ordering the "Montpelier Guards," a volunteer regiment composed of the best young men in the county, to be ready to take a train of cars that evening, Wilson Newman promptly enlisted as a private soldier in the company to which four of his brothers already belonged, and served, until killed September 19, 1864, at Winchester, as one of the most intelligent, brave, patient and efficient soldiers who ever fought in any cause. One incident illustrates his character: On one of the marches of Jackson's "Valley campaign," I saw him one day with bare, blistered and bleeding feet limping along the hard turnpike and suffering greatly as he left his bloody tracks on the road in keeping up with his command. I begged him to fall out of rank and rest by the roadside until I could get him a place in one of the ambulances or on a wagon. "No, I cannot do that," replied the brave patriot, "for all of the transportation is needed for poor fellows worse off than I am. Besides, I cannot leave the ranks now, for we are going to fight up yonder presently, and if I cannot march I can shoot. Indeed, I am in first-class condition to go into battle just now, for I cannot run even if I wished to, and will be obliged to hold my position, no matter how hot it should prove." And thus the heroic boy limped to the front to "take his place in the picture near the flashing of the guns." Three years ago, visiting the town of Lexington, Va., nestling in the Blue mountains and rich in hallowed memories, I went to the tomb of Lee, which the genius of Edward Valentine has decked with one of the most superb works of art on this continent, putting into pure white marble the veritable "Robert E. Lee at rest." I also gazed for
