It was a snug town within its half circle of mountains.

Its brick and wooden houses were solid and good.

The young officers when they went on errands trod on pavements of red brick, and oaks and elms and maples shaded them nearly all the way.
When Harry, who went oftenest on such missions, returned to his general with the answers, he walked up a narrow street, where the silver maples, which would soon begin to bud under the continuous rain, grew thickest, and came to a small building in which other officers like himself wrote at little tables or waited in full uniform to be sent upon like errands.
If it were yet early he would find Jackson there, but if it were late he would cross a little stretch of grass to the parsonage, the large and solid house, where the Presbyterian minister, Dr.Graham, lived, and where Jackson, with his family, who had joined him, now made his home in this month of waiting.
It was here that Harry came one evening late in February.

It had been raining as usual, and he wore one of the long Union overcoats captured at Bath, blue then but a faded grayish brown now.

However, the gray Confederate uniform beneath it was neat and looked fresh.