There was Longstreet, blue of eye like Lee, full bearded, thick and powerful, and proud of his horsemanship, in which he excelled.
Ewell, too, stumped in on his crutches, vigorous, enthusiastic, but never using profane language where Lee was.

And there was A.P.

Hill, of soldierly slenderness and of fine, pleasing manner; McLaws, who had done so well at Antietam; Pickett, not yet dreaming of the one marvelous achievement that was to be his; Old Jubal Early, as he was familiarly called, bald, bearded, rheumatic, profane, but brave and able; Hood, tall, yellow-haired; Pender, the North Carolinian, not yet thirty, religious like Jackson, and doomed like him to fall soon in battle; Tieth, Edward Johnson, Anderson, Trimble, Stuart, as gay and dandyish as ever; Ramseur, Jones, Daniel, young Fitzhugh Lee; Pendleton, Armistead, and a host of others whose names remained memorable to him.

They were all tanned and sun-burned men.

Few had reached early middle age, and the shadows of death were already gathering for many of them.
But the high spirits of the Southern army merely became higher as they began to make rapid but secret preparation for departure.