As yet that last great wrestle of the opposing armies lay in the future.  The veterans of the Army of Northern Virginia defended the line of the Rapidan, and the gray commander-in-chief, in his tent on Clarke’s Mountain, serenely awaited the further movements of the enemy.  During the long months of winter he was busily engaged, as usual, in official correspondence, in looking to the welfare of his men, and in preparations for the coming campaign.  He often rode among the camps, and the familiar figure in the well-known hat, cape, and gray uniform, mounted upon the powerful iron-gray—­the famous “Traveller,” who survived to bear his master after the war—­was everywhere greeted by the ragged veterans with cheers and marks of the highest respect and regard.  At times his rides were extended to the banks of the Rapidan, and, in passing, he would stop at the headquarters of General Stuart, or other officers.  On these occasions he had always some good-humored speech for all, not overlooking the youngest officer; but he shone in the most amiable light, perhaps, in conversing with some old private soldier, gray-haired like himself.  At such moments the general’s countenance was a pleasant spectacle.  A kindly smile lit up the clear eyes, and moved the lips half-concealed by the grizzled mustache.  The bonhomie of this smile was irresistible, and the aged private soldier, in his poor, tattered fighting-jacket, was made to feel by it that his commander-in-chief regarded him as a friend and comrade.

We dwell at too great length, perhaps, upon these slight personal traits of the soldier, but all relating to such a human being is interesting, and worthy of record.  To the writer, indeed, this is the most attractive phase of his subject.  The analysis and description of campaigns and battles is an unattractive task to him; but the personal delineation of a good and great man, even in his lesser and more familiar traits, is a pleasing relief—­a portion of his subject upon which he delights to linger.  What the writer here tries to draw, he looked upon with his own eyes, the figure of a great, calm soldier, with kindly sweetness and dignity, but, above all, a charming sincerity and simplicity in every movement, accent, and expression.  Entirely free from the trappings of high command, and with nothing to distinguish him from any other soldier save the well-worn stars on the collar of his uniform-coat, the commander-in-chief was recognizable at the very first glance, and no less the simple and kindly gentleman.  His old soldiers remember him as he appeared on many battle-fields, and will describe his martial seat in the saddle as he advanced with the advancing lines.  But they will speak of him with even greater pleasure as he appeared in the winters of 1862 and 1863, on the Rappahannock and the Rapidan—­a gray and simple soldier, riding among them and smiling kindly as his eyes fell upon their tattered uniforms and familiar faces.