THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY THE WILMER COLLECTION OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS PRESENTED BY RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. fVii^,,,: 'M' '^"ditS"' ■ i*f ■ 'I ^ ■'*■■' ^% . V. .-' •' '. Li"^' hi'- "■ m^ >f\ I'M'- ■f. :^;,'t>•^.o•. •■ » .'«■ -^i^^ ''.■,-■ >?--^ U^' X-'-A 'm ■ **^iSK.^ ^r.^- Sftf^^^^r--^ Ml Z^*^* '■^'^f. -C- .-jV' •■ .J2;v•■^■■ W^ ^MEP <::OLLECTION / d ~V' O--^^" (J—^-^-^ A o MOHTJI:^ OK, THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PALADINS. • FINAL MEilOIES OF A STAFF OFFICEE SEEYmG m YIEGmiA. Fbom the MSS. of t COLOXEL SURRY, OF EAGLE'S NEST. BY JOHIST ESTE]^ COOKE AUTHOR OF "SUPwET OF EAGLE'S NEST." Neo aspera terrent. NEW YORK: F. J. HUXTIXGTOX AND CO., 459 BROOME STREET. 1869. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, hj F. J. HUXTIXGTON & CO., In the Clerk's OflBce of the Disrrict Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. McCBEA & MlLLEK, Stereotypers. PROLOGUE. OiT the wall over the mantel-piece, here in my quiet study at Eagle's-Nest, are two crossed swords. One is a battered old sabre worn at Gettysburg, and Appomattox ; the other, a Federal oflBcer's dress sword captured in 1863. It was a mere fancy to place them there, as it was a whim to hang upon that nail yonder, the uniform coat with its stars and braid, which Stuart wore on his famous ride around McClellan in 1862. Under the swords liang portraits of Lee, Jackson, and Stuart. Jackson wears his old coat, and his brow is raised as though he were looking out from beneath his yellow old cadet cap. Stuart is seated, grasping his sabre, with his plumed hat resting on his knee. His huge beard flows on his breast, his eyes are clear and penetrating, and beneath the picture I have placed a slip cut from one of his letters to me, and containing the words, " Yours to count on, J. E. B. Stuart." Lastly, the gray commander-in-chief looks with a grave smile over his shoulder, the eyes fixed upon that excellent engraving of the " Good Old Kebel," a private of the Army of Northern Virginia, seated on a log, after the war, and reflecting with knit brows on the past and the present. From this sketch of my surroundings, worthy reader, you will perceive, that I amuse myself by recalling the old times when the Grays and Blues were opposed to each other. Those t^o swords crossed — those pictures of Lee, Jackson, Stuart, and the '"Old Rebel" — you are certain to think that the possessor of them is unreconstructed (terrible word !) and still a rebel ! But is it wrong to remember the past? I think of it without bitterness. God decreed it — God the all-wise, the all-merciful — for his own purpose. I do not indulge any repinings, or reflect 10 PROLOGUE. with rancor upon tlie issue of the struggle. I prefer recalling the stirring adventure, the brave voices, the gallant faces: even in that tremendous drama of 1864-5, I can find something besides blood and tears: even here and there some sunshine I In this last series of my memoirs I shall deal chieflj with that immense campaign. In the first series which, I trust the reader of these pages will have perused, I followed Jackson through his hard battles to the fatal field of Chancellorsville. In this volume I shall beg the reader first to go with Stuart from the great review of his cavalry, in June, 18G3, to the dark morn- ing of May 11, 1864, at Yellow Tavern. Then the last days will follow. I open the drama with that fine cavalry review in June, 1863, on the plains of Culpeper. It is a pleasure to return to it — for Gettysburg blackened the sunshine soon. The column thundered by ; the gay bugles rang; the great banner floated. "Where is that pageant to-day ? Where the old moons of Villon ? Alas I the strong hours work their will. June, 1863, is long dead. The cavalrv horses, if thev came back from the wars, are ploughing. The rusty sabres stick fast in the battered old scabbards. The old saddles are shabby — and our friends take them away from us. The old buttons are tar- nished, and an order forbids our wearing thom. The brass bands clash no more ; and the bugles are silent. Where are the drums and the bugles ? Do they beat the long roll at the approach of phantom foes, or sound the cavalry charge in another world? They are silent to-day, and have long disappeared; but I think I hear them still in my dreams! It is in June, 1863, therefore, worthy reader, that I open my volume. Up to that time I had gone with Jackson's " foot cav- alry," marching slowly and steadily to battle. Now, I was to follow the gay and adventurous career of the Virginia Rupert — Stuart, the Knight of the Black Plume ! If you are willing to accompany me, I promise to show you some animated scenes. You will hear Stuart laugh as he leads the charge, or jest with his staff, or sing his gay cavalry songs. But, alas ! we shall not go far with him ; and when he leaves us a sort of shadow will fall upon the landscape. From that May, 1864, laughter will PROLOGUE. 11 seldom be heard. The light which shines on the great picture will be red and baleful. Blood will gush on desperate fields — men will fall like dry leaves in the winds of autumn. The crimson torrent will sweep away a whole generation al- most — and the Red Cross flag will go down in blood. The current of events will drag us to Petersburg, and those last months which witnessed the final wrestle in this war of the giants. Let us bask in the sunshine, before breasting the storm. The pages of blood and mourning will soon be opened — meanwhile we will laugh. In this June, 1863, faces smile still, and cheers resound. Bu- gles are ringing, swords clashing, cannon thundering. Lee's old army is full of ardor, and seventy thousand rneD shout ! " Pennsyivania I Pennsylvania I " MOHTJ N^; OR, THE LAST DAYS OF LEE AND HIS PAUDINS. BOOK I. GETTYSBUEG, I. THE CAVALRY REVIEW. On a beautiful day of June, 1863, the plains of Culpeper, in Virginia, were the scene of an imposing pageant. Stuart's cavalry was passing in review before Lee, who was about to commence his march toward Gettysburg. Those of my readers who were fortunate enough to be pres- ent, will not forget that scene. They wiU remember the martial form of Stuart at the head of his sahreurs ; how the columns of horsemen thundered by the great flag ; how the multitude cheered, brightest eyes shone, the merry bands clashed, the gay bugles rang; how the horse artiUery roared as it was charged in mimic battle— while Lee, the gray old soldier, with serene carriage, sat his horse and looked on. Never had the fields of Culpeper witnessed a spectacle more magnificent. The sunshine darted in lightnings from the long line of sabres, lit up beautiful faces, and flashed from scarfs, and 14 MOHUN. waving handkerchiefs, rosy cheeks, and glossy ringlets. All was life, and joy, and splendor. For once war seemed turned to carnival; and flowers wreathed the keen edge of the sword. Among the illustrious figures gazed at by the crowd, two were the observed of all observers — those of Lee and Stuart. Lee sat his powerful horse, with its plain soldierly equipments, beneath the large flag. He Avas clad in a gray uniform, almost without mark of rank. Cavalry boots reached nearly to his knees ; as usual he wore no sword ; over his broad brow drooped a plain brown felt hat, without tassel or decoration. Beneath, you saw a pair of frank and benignant, but penetrating eyes, ruddy cheeks, and an iron gray mustache and beard, both cut close. In the poise of the stately head, as in the whole carriage of his person, there was something calm, august and imposing. This man, it was plain, was not only great, but good ; — the true type of the race of gentlemen of other times. Stuart, the chief of cavalry of the army, was altogether dif ferent in appearance. Young, ardent, full of life and abandon, he was the true reproduction of Rupert, said to be his ancestor. The dark cavalry feather; the lofty forehead, and dazzling blue eyes; his little "fighting jacket," as lie called it, bright with braid and buttons, made a picture. His boots reached to the knee ; a yellow silk sash was about his waist ; his spurs, of solid gold, were' the present of some ladies of Maryland; and with saber at tierce point, extended over his horse's head, he led the charge with his stafi", in front of the column, and laughing, as though the notes of the bugle drove him forward. In every movement of that stalwart figure, as in the glance of the blue eyes, and the laughter curling the huge mustache, could be read youth and joy, and a courage which nothing could bend. He was called a " boy " by some, as Coriolanus was be- fore him. But his Federal adversaries did not laugh at him ; they had felt his blows too often. Nor did the soldiers of the army. He had breasted bullets in front of infantry, as well as the sabre in front of cavalry. The civilians might laugh at him — the old soldiers found no fault in him for humming his songs in battle. They knew the man, and felt that he was o good soldier, as well as a great general. He would have made THE CAVALRY REVIEW. 15 an excellent private, and did not feel "above " being one. Never was human being braver, if he did laugh and sing. Was he not brave? Answer, old sabreurs, whom he led in a hundred charges! old followers of Jackson, with whom he went over the breast- works at Chancellorsville ! Some readers may regard this picture of Stuart as overdrawn , but it is the simple truth of that brave soul. He had his faults; he loved praise, even flattery, and was sometimes irascible — but I have never known a human being more pure, generous and brave. At sunset the review was over. The long columns of cavalry moved slowly back to their camps. The horse artillery followed ; the infantry who had witnessed the ceremony sought their bivou- acs in the woods ■ and the crowd, on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, returned toward the Court-House, whose spires were visible across the fields. Stuart had approached the flag-staff and, doffing his plumed hat, had saluted Lee, who saluted in return, and complimented the review. After a few mon^ents' conversation, they had then salu- ted a second time. Lee, followed by his staff, rode toward his quarters ; and Stuart set out to return to his own. We had ridden about half a mile, when Stuart turned his •head and called me. I rode to his side. " I wish you would ride down toward Beverly's Eord, Surry," he said, " and tell Mordaunt to keep a bright lookout to-night. They must have heard our artillery on the other side of the river, and may want to find out w^hat it means." I saluted, and turned my horse. Stuart cantered on singing. In a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was riding toward the Rappahannock. IG MOHUX II. HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF GENERAL STUART'S STAFF. If the reader has done me the honor to peruse tlie first vol- nine of my memoirs, I indulge the vanity of supposing that lie will like to be informed how I became a member of General Stuart's staff. "When oaks crash down they are apt to prostrate the sap- lings growing around them. Jackson was a very tall oak, and I a very humble sapling. When the great trunk fell, the mere twig disappeared. I had served with Jackson from the begin- ning of the war; that king of battle dead at Chancellorsville, I had found mvself without a commander, and without a home. I was not only called upon in that May of 1863, to mourn the il- lustrious soldier, who had done me the honor to call me his friend ; I had also to look around me for some other general ; some other position in the army. I was revolving this important subject in my mind, when I received a note from General J. E. B. Stuart, Jackson's friend and brother in arms. " Come and see me," said this note. For- ty-eight hours afterward I was at Stuart's head-quarters, near Culpeper Court-IIouse. When I entered his tent, or rather breadth of canvas, stretched beneath a great oak, Stuart rose from the red blanket upon which he was lying, and held out his hand. As he gazed at me in silence I could see his face flush. "You remind me of Jackson," he said, retaining my hand and gazing fixedly at me. I bowed ni}' head, making no other reply; for the sight of Stuart brought back to me also many memories; the scouting of the Valley, the hard combats of the Lowland, Cold Harbor, Ma- nassas, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, and that last greeting between Jackson and the great commander of the cavalry, on the weird moonlight night at Chancellorsville. ON GEN. STUART'S STAFF. 17 Stuart continued to gaze at me, and I could see his eyes slowly fill with tears. ''It is a national calamity!" he murmured. "Jackson's loss is irreparable!"* He remained for a moment gazing into my face, then passing jiis hand over his forehead, he banished by a great effort these depressing memories. His bold features resumed their habitual cheerfulness. Our dialogue was brief, and came rapidly to the point. "Have you been assigned to duty yet, my dear Surry ?" " I have not, general." " "Would you like to come with me ?" " More than with any general in the army, since Jackson's death. You know I am sincere in saying that." "Thanks — then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want another inspector-general, and want youy "With these words Stuart seated himself at his desk, wrote a note, which he dispatched by a courier to army head-quarters ; and then throwing aside business, he bega:n laughing and talking. For once the supply of red tape in Eichmond seemed tem- porarily exhausted. Stuart was Lee's right hand, and when he made a request, the TVar Office deigned to listen. Four days afterward, I was seated under the canvas of a staff tent, when Stuart hastened up with boyish ardor, holding a paper. " Here you are, old Surry," — when he used the prefix " old " to any one's name, he was always excellently well disposed toward them, — "the Richmond people are prompt this time. Here is your assignment — send for Sweeney and his banjo! He shall play ' Jine the Cavalry!' in honor of the occasion, Surry!" You see now, my dear reader, how it happened that in June, 1868, Stuart beckoned to me, and gave me an order to transmit to General Mordaunt. ♦ His words. 18 MOHUl^. III. BLUE AXD GRAY PHANTOMS. As I rode toward the Rappahannock to deliver Stuart's order to General Mordannt, the wide landscape was suddenly lit up by a crimson glare. I looked over my shoulder. The sun was poised upon the western woods, and resembled a huge bloodshot eye. Above it extended a long black cloud, like an eyebrow — and from the cloud issued low thunder. "When a storm is coming, the civilian seeks shelter; but the soldier carrying an order, wraps his cape around him, and rides on. I went on past Brandy and Fleetwood Hill, descended to- ward the river, entered a great belt of woods — then night and storm descended simultaneously. An artillery duel seemed going on in the clouds; the flickering lightnings amid the branches resembled serpents of fire : the wind rolled through the black wood, tearing off boughs in its passage. I pushed my horse to full speed to emerge from this scene of crashing limbs and tottering trunks. I had just passed a little stream, when from a by-road on my left came the trample of hoofs. It is good to be on the watch in the cavalry, and I wheeled to the right, listening — when all at once a brilliant flash of lightning showed me, within fifty paces, a column of Hue cav- alry. "Halt!" rang out from the column, and a pistol-shot followed. I did not halt. Capture was becoming a hideous affair in June, 3 863. I passed across the head of the column at full speed, fol- lowed by bullets ; struck into a bridle-path on the right, and pushed ahead, hotly pursued. They had followed me nearly half a mile, firing on me, and ordering me to halt, when suddenly a sonorous "Haiti" re- sounded fifty yards in front of me ; and a moment afterward, a carbine ball passed*through my riding cape. I drove on at full speed, convinced that these in front were friends; and the chest of my horse struck violently against that of another in the darkness. MOHUX AND HIS PRISONER. 19 "Halt, or you are dead I" came in the same commanding Yoice. Another flash of lightning showed me a squadron of gray cav- alry : at their head rode a cavalier, well mounted ; it was his horse against winch I had struck, and he held a cocked pistol to ray breast. The lightning left nothing in doubt. Gray and blue quickly recognized each other. The blue cavalry had drawn rein, and, at that moment, the leader of the grays shouted — " Charge !" A rush of hoofs, and then a quick clash of sabres followed. The adversaries had hurled together. The wood suddenly became the scene of a violent combat. It was a rouorh affair. For ten minutes the result was doubt- ful. The Federal cavalry were apparently commanded by an officer of excellent nerve, and he fought his men obstinately. For nearly a quarter of an hour the wood was full of sabre- strokes, carbine-shots, and yells, which mingled with the roll of the storm. Then the fight ended. My friend ot the cocked pistol threw himself, sabre in hand, upon the Federal front, and it shook, and gave back, and retreated. The weight of the onset seemed to sweep it, inch by inch, away. The blue squadron finally broke, and scattered in every direction. The grays pressed on with loud cheers, firing as they did so: — five minutes afterward, the storm-lashed wood had swallowed pursuers and pursued. The whole had disappeared like phantom horsemen in the direction of the Rappahannock. IV. MOHUX AXD HIS PRISONER. Half an hour afterward, the storm had spent its fury, and I was standing by a bivouac fire on the banks of the Rappahan- nock, conversing with the officer against whom I had driven my horse in the darkness. 20 MOHUN. Mounted upon a powerful gray, lie had led the attack with a sort of fury, and I now looked at him with some curiosity. He was a man of about thirty, of gaunt face and figure, wear- ing a hat with a black featlier, and the uniform of a colonel of cavalry. The features were regular and might have been called handsome ; the eyes, hair, mustache, and imperial — he wore no beard — coal black; the complexion so pale that the eifect was startling. More curious than all else, however, was the officer's expression. In the lips and eyes could be read sometliing bitterly cynical, mingled with a profound and apparently in- eradicable melancholy. After looking at my new acquaintance for an instant, I said to myself: "This man has either suffered some great grief, or committed some great crime." His bearing was cold, but courteous. "I recognized you as soon as I saw you, colonel," he said, in response to my salute. " You probably do not know me, how- ever, as I have just been transferred from the Army of the West. Colonel Mohun, at your service." I exchanged a pressure of the hand with Colonel Mohun, or, speaking more correctly, I grasped his. It did not return the pressure. I then thanked him for his timely appearance, and he bowed coldly. "It was lucky that my scout led me in this direction," he said, " that party is whipped back over the river, and will give us no more trouble to-night — the woods are full of their dead and wounded." As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and present- ed it. "Will you smoke, sir?" he said. I bowed and selected a cigar. Colonel Mohun imitated me, and was about to commence smoking, when two or three cavalry men were seen approaching through the gloom, apparently es- corting some one. As they drew nearer the*figures became plainer in the fire- light. The cavalry men had in charge a female prisoner. She was a woman of petite figure, clad in a handsome gray riding-habit, and mounted upon a superb horse, with rich equip- ments, apparently belonging to a Federal officer of high rank. MOHTTX AND HIS PRISONER. 21 From the horse, I glanced at the prisoner's face. It was a strange countenance. She was about twenty-five — her complexion was dead white, except the lips which were as red as carnations ; her eyes were large and brilliant, her hair dark and worn plain under a small riding-hat. In one delicately gauntleted hand she held the rein of her horse — with the other, which was ungloved, she raised a lace handkerchief to her lips. On the finger sparkled a diamond. There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked " dangerous " in spite of her palmness. She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handker- chief still raised to her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon them. What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? I turned, and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His appearance almost frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a corpse, his whole frame shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were distended until the black pupils shone in the centres of two white circles. Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly ; he passed his hand over his forehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice : " Then you are not dead, madam ?" " Xo, sir," the prisoner replied tranquilly. Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his features gradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had first observed in them. " This meeting is singular," he said. A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner. "Our last interview was very difterent, was it not, sir?" she said. " The Nottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to- night, and you did not expect to meet me again — so soon !" Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look. "No, madam," he said. "You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?" Mohun coolly inclined his head. "And you have not seen me since ?" "Never, madam." " You are mistaken 1" 22 M 11 U N . " Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a cir- cumstance, madam ?" " Yes!" ""Where and when have I seen you since that time V " Every wliere, and at all times I — awake and asleep, day and night!" Mohun shuddered. '* True," he said, with a bitter smile. "You remember, then ! I am not wrong!" exclaimed the prisoner, gazing intently at him. Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical ex- pression upon his lips. "Certainly I remember, madam," he said. "Do you think it possible for any one to forget your charming ladyship? And could any thing be more delightful than this interview between two old friends ? But let us reserve tliese sweet confidences, these gushing emotions! One thing only is wanting, to ])erfeot the happiness of this moment ; the presence this evening of yoi/r dear hrother ! — but he is doubtless detained els where !" Mohun's expression was singular as he uttered these words. The prisoner looked at him as he was speaking with an indescrib- able smile. I can only compare it to that of the swordsman about to deliver a mortal lunge. "My brother," she said, in accents as soft as a flute; " de- tained elsewhere, do you say, sir ? You are mistaken in suppos- ing so. He commanded the cavalry with which you were fighting to-night !" At these words, uttered in a strange, mocking voice, I saw Mohun start as if a rattlesnake had bitten his heel. With all his self-possessi'on he could not restrain this exhibition of emotion. "Impossible! You are deceiving me — " The prisoner interrupted him with a gay laugh. "So you do not believe me," she said; "you think, my dear sir, that everybody is dead but yourself! Dismiss that idea from your mind ! »/ am not dead, since we have the pleasure of again meetins in the flesh. He is not dead! Xo! it was Coloujel Mor- timer Darke whom you fought to-night. This is his horse which I borrowed to take a short ride. I have been captured, but he STUART. 23 is neither dead nor captured, and you will doubtless receive some friendly message from Lira soon." Under the mocking accents and the satirical glance, it was easy to read profound hatred. The speaker conld not hide that. At that moment she resembled a tigress about to spring. Mohun had listened with absorbing attention as his companion spoke ; but, as on the first occasion, he speedily suppressed his agitation. His face was now as cold and unmoved as though moulded of bronze. " So be it, madam," he said; "I will respond as I best can to such message as he may send me. For yourself, you know me well, and, I am glad to see, indulge no apprehensions. The past is dead ; let it sleep. You think this interview is painful to me. You deceive yourself, madam ; I would not exchange it for all the wealth of two hemispheres." And calling an oflficer, he said : — "You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting the circumstances attending her capture." Mohun made a ceremonious bow to the prisoner as be spoke, saluted me in the same manner, and mounting his horse, rode back at the head of his column. The prisoner, escorted by the young officer, and still riding her fine horse, had already disappeared in the darkness. V. STUART. An hour afterward, I had delivered my message to Mordaunt, and was returning by the road over Fleetwood Hill, thinking of the singular dialogue between Mohun and the gray woman. What had these worthies meant by their mysterious allusions ? How had Mohun found himself face to face on this stormy night, with two human beings whom he thought dead ? These questions puzzled me for half an hour; then I gave up 24 MOHUN. the mystery, laughing. An hour afterward I had passed through Culpeper Court-House, crossed the fields, and had reached Gen- eral Stuart's head-quarters. Stuart's tent, or rather the strip of canvas which he called one, was pitched beneath a great oak on a wooded knoll about a mile south of the little village. Above it drooped the masses of fresh June foliage ; around, were grouped the white canvas " flies " of the staflf; in a glade close by gleamed the tents d'abri of the couriers. Horses, tethered to the trees, champed their corn in the shadow ; in the calm, summer night, the battle-flag drooped and clung to its staff. Before the tent of Stuart, a man on guard, with drawn sabre, paced to and fro with measured steps. A glance told me that Mohun's singular prisoner had arrived. A courier was holding her fine animal near the general's tent, and as I dismounted, three figures appeared in the illuminated doorway. These were the figures of Stuart, the ''gray woman," and a young aid -de-camp. "Farewell, madam," said Stuart, bowing and laughing; "I am sorry to have made your acquaintance under circumstances so disagreeable to you ; but I trust you will appreciate the situation, and not blame me." "Blame you? Not in the least, general. You are a very gal- lant man." And the gay words were accompanied by a musical laugh. "You will have an opportunity of seeing the Confederate capi- tal," said Stuart, smiling. The lady made a humorous grimace. "And of abusing me upon the way thither; and afterward on the route to Fort Monroe and Washington, as you will not be detained, I am sure." "I shall not abuse you, sir. You are the noblest gentleman I have ever known." * And with mutual salutes they parted — the young aid-de-camp accompanying the lady to her horse, and aiding her to mount. They then set forward toward the Court-House. Stuart had ordered the prisoner to be conducted thither, and detained at the ♦ The real words of Stuart's prisoner. STUAPwT. 25 village tavern, under guard, until morning, when she would be sent to Richmond. As they disappeared, I entered the general's tent, and found iiim laughing. Leaning one hand upon his desk, covered with papers, upon which rested his feather-decorated hat, he care- lessly played with the tassel of his yellow sash with the other hand. His blue eyes sparkled, and his mustache curled with humor. " That is really a beauty, Surry ?" he said, " and I have laughed heartily." He threw himself on his red blanket as he spoke, and began playing with his two setter pups, whose names were "Nip " and " Tuck." He had bronght them out of the lines on his saddle. " Well, you are really a magician," I said. " You charm the evil spirit, and make prisoners laugh." Stuart laughed in reply. " That is a curious person that Mohun sent me," he said ; " at first she was disdainful enough ; but I paid her a few compli- ments, and now she is in an excellent humor, as you saw." " Yes." " But what about the fight?" I made my report of the events of the evening. "Well, Mohunis a trump," said Stuart. "A new man, but seems made of the right stuft^— real steel. What does Mordaunt say of the attack ?" "Only a scout." "Eight, and this lady is our spoil! She is handsome, is she not? But a more curious face I have never seen. White cheeks and red lips — a sort of devil and angel mixed ! Who is she, I wonder, and what was her errand. Something is under it. She gave her name as 'Mrs. Darke,' — and her horse made me break T;he tenth commandment, Surry I Lady and courser are splen- did." "She is certainly a beauty." "And what eyes!" " Dangerous." Stuart remained silent for some moments, and then I heard him sigh. 26 MOHUN. "Do you know, my dear Surry," he said, "that if people heard us talk in this way, they would call us libertines — immoral — any thing? There are two things that people will not disbe- lieve about me — that I am impure, and a drunkard ! Do you know what a good man Avas heard to say of me the other day? ' Stuart would be one of the greatest soldiers in the army, if he did not drink so hard!'* And others add: 'if he were not a libertine.' "Well, need I defend myself to you^ from these charges? I promised my mother in my childhood, never to touch ardent spirits, and a drop has never passed my lips, except the wine of the communion.! I know I need not tell you that I am equally guiltless of the other imputation. That person does not live who can say that I ever did any thing improper of that description.! And yet I am a drunkard — a libertine — I, who never touched drink, and love but one person in this world !" Stuart's head sank, and he uttered a weary sigh. " They will not let me alone," he muttered, " and yet I am here fighting for my country. But I defy them to take my good name away from me, Surry !" And he rose to his feet. *' General Lee knows me ! Jackson knew me ! I have the regard of the one, and I had the love of the other. "What do I care ? If my children only will not hear these ignoble charges ! One can never hear them, Surry — my beloved little Flora! She died while I was fighting near Middleburg in the fall of '62 — that nearly broke me down — " And Stuart paused and covered his eyes with his hand. Be- tween the fingers I saw a tear. For a moment his breast heaved — something like a sob issued from the brave lip, whereon the heavy mustache trembled. "I think of her often — I shall never get over her death, Surry! "the murmured. "They think me hard and cold, and bad perhaps — it is nothing. Since she died I care less for men's opinion, and only try to do my duty, till the ball comes that will end me." And dashing a tear from his eyes, Stuart walked to the door of his tent, from which he gazed forth upon the stars. ♦ This was actually said of Stuart. t His words. STUART'S INSTIITOT. 27 Five minntes passed thus, and I did not speak. Then all at once I heard Stuart call out : "Orderly !" " Yes, sir," came from the man on post near the tent. " Tell Sweeney to come and bring his banjo!" And walking fifty steps, Stuart caressed the glossy neck of his mare " Lady Margaret," who was tethered to a bough, and looked around afiectionately at her master. "V^Tien he returned he was humming '* The dew lay on the blos- som," and following him was Sweeney — the same old Sweeney ! — ever mild, courteous, almost sad, doffing his cap, saluting with simple grace, and tuning his banjo. In a m'oment the tent, the wooded knoll, the whole vicinity was ringing with the uproarious notes of the mirth-inspiring banjo ; and Sweeney was chanting, as only that great master could chant, the mighty epic of the sabreurs of Stuart : — "K jovL want to have a good time Jine the cavalry, Bully Boys, hey I ' The staff and couriers quickly assembled, the servants were grouped in the starlight, the horses beneath the boughs turned their intelligent heads — and leading in the uproarious chorus might have been heard the sonorous and laughing voice of Stuart. YI. STUART'S INSTINCT. The festivities were kept up until nearly midnight. Then Stuart yawned ; said with a laugh, " Good morning, gentle-7n^7i /" as was his habit when he wished to work; and the tent was soon deserted. I retired to rest, but at three in the morning felt a hand upon my shoulder. " The general is going to move, colonel, and wishes to see you," said the orderly. 28 MOHUN". I rose, made my brief toilet, and went toward Stnart's tent where alight was shining. He was writing bnsilj at his desk, as fresh and gay as on the preceding evening. His enormous con- stitution defied fatigue. All at once I saw that there was another personage in the tent. He was a young man of about twenty, of slight figure, beardless face, and an expression so shy and retiring that he seemed ready to blush if -you spoke to him. He wore, neverthe- less, the uniform of a captain of artillery ; and I remember won- dering how this girlish and shrinking personage, with the large, sad eyes, had come to hold a commission. "Captain Daveuant, of "my horse artillery. Colonel Surry," said Stuart. The youth colored, and then with an air of painful embarrass- ment took a step forward and pressed my hand. The grasp of the slender fingers was like the grip of a steel vice. "Davenant has been on a scout across the Rappahannock, to keep his hand in," said Stuart, busily writing. "My horse ar- tillery boys do a little of every thing — and Davenant is a wild-cat, Surry, with a touch of the bull dog, in spite of liis looks I" Tlie young officer drew back blushing more than ever at these words. His confusion seemed to deprive him of the power of utterance. "I'll bet he's blushing now!" said Stuart, laughing and con- tinuing to write with his back turned, as he spoke. " He is blushing or sighing — for the poor Yankees he has killed, doubt- less!" "You are laughing at me, general," said the young mnn timidly. " Well, my laughter won't hurt you, Davenant. T never joke with people I don't like. But to business. The enemy are going to attack me, Surry. Get ready, I am going to move." "Eeady, general." "All right !—Hagan!" "General!" The voice came like an echo. Then at the door appeared the gigantic, black-bearded Lieutenant Hagan, chief of the general's escort. Have you forgotten him, my dear reader? — his huge STUART'S INSTINCT. 29 figure, his mighty beard, the deep thunder of his tones? I showed you the brave soldier in 1861 and '62. In 1863 his beard was heavier, his voice more like thunder — when the giant walked along he seemed to shake the ground. "I am going to move in half an hour, Hagan," said Stuart, still writing busily. " Head-quarters will be established on Fleet- wood Hill, beyond Brandy; my horse!" Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes the camp was buzzing, and " Lady Margaret " was led up. "Come on, Surry! Come, on DavenantI I will beat you to the Court-House!"' And Stuart buckled on his sword, drew on his gauntlets, and mounted his horse. I was beside him. Not to be ready when Stuart was — was to be left behind. He waited for nobody. His staff soon learned that. As Davenant's horse was awaiting him, he was as prompt as Stuart desired. In a minute we were all three riding at full speed toward the village. Stuart was playing with his glove, which he had taken off and dangled to and fro. His brows were knit, and he was reflecting. We did not interrupt him, and in ten minutes we were all clattering over the main street of the hamlet. Stuart pushed on by the tavern, without pausing, in the direction of Fleetwood, when just as he reached the eastern suburbs of the town a small one-horse wagon, leaving the place, attracted his attention. There was just sufficient light to make out the figures in the wagon. There were two. One was a portly and plainly clad old countryman, with a prominent nose, a double chin, and fat hands decorated with pinchbeck rings. Beside him sat an old woman, as fat as himself, wearing a faded calico gown, a "coal-scuttle" bonnet, and a huge ruflfled cap beneath. Stuart looked keenly at the wagon, called to the driver to halt, and demanded whither he was going, and on what business. The old countryman smiled. The question seemed to strike him as absurd, and his explanation was simple and calculated to re- move all suspicion. He stated that his name was Brown — that 30 MOHUN. he lived near the village ; had brought in a load of vegetables to sell, on the preceding evening — some friends had persuaded him and "his old woman" to spend the night, and they were now- going home. Stuart peered under the coal-scuttle bonnet. "And this is your 'old woman' myTriend," he said with a laugh. "Jest so, sir," was the wheezy reply of the fat old country- man, smiling sweetly. " You see she would come along, sir. "Womankind is mighty contrary !" "A profound sentiment!" laughed Stuart, and riding on with- out further words, he left the countryman free to proceed on his way. We crossed a little stream, rode on toward Fleetwood, and had nearly reached Brandy when Stuart suddenly reined in his horse. "Do you know I think," he said, " that I have done a foolish thing?" "What, general?" "To let that old fellow go on. I don't like his looks." "The old countryman?" " Yes; I wish I had arrested him — him and his wife." "Arrested them?" Stuart nodded. "I have an instinct about rascals, Surry; and something tells me that I have been guilty of an imprudence." " Was not his explanation satisfactory ?" "No." " What could be wrong?" "Every thing." "And his 'old woman,'" I said, laughing ; "think of that highly respectable dame." "Hike her least of all!" "From "instinct?" "If you choose." " I think your instinct misleads you this time, general." "I think not." "Well, we will see." STUART'S INSTINCT. 31 And we did see. In two hours the head-quarters tents were pitched upon Fleet- wood Hill beyond Brandy, and Stuart sent his provost marshal to Culpeper Court-House, with orders to conduct the prisoner taken by Mohun on the preceding night, to General Lee, fur ex- amination. x\n hour afterward the worthy provost returned in hot haste with the astounding information that the fair lady was nowhere to be found. She had disappeared from her chamber, none knew how, before daylight, and as a notoriously suspected individual who had lately been hanging round the tavern had disappeared too, it was probable that they had gone off togetlier. Upon this point, a note left by the lady directed to "General Stuart" would probably give information. This had been found upon her table. And the provost wound up by handing the note to Stuart. He read it with an air of decided ill-humor. Then throwinc: it upon his desk, burst into a laugh. "Well, Surry," he said, "who is right and who is wrong, now? Eeadthat!" And he pointed to the note, which I opened and read. It was in a delicate female hand, and ran as follows : — " General Stuart will pardon the attempt his captive is about to make, to effect her escape. He made himself quite charm- ing in their brief interview, but liberty is sweet. Finding a friend unexpectedly in this quarter of the world, I have made every arrangement with him ; he is a great master of disguises, and, though the travelling costume which I shall adopt will make me look hideous, I hope it will enable me, before sunrise, to pass a private ford, known to my friend alone, and reach the opposite bank of the Rappahannock. " Farewell, my dear general. If all the rebels were like your- self, I might change my politics. I have but one other friend in your army — Colonel Mohun, of the cavalry. Present my regards to him, and say that we will meet again.'''* That was all. I raised ray eyes from the paper, and looked at the general with stupefaction. "Then that ' old woman ' was the lady?" 82 MOHUN. "Precisely." " And we are fooled ?" "Completely. They are by this time on the other side of the Rappahannock." With these words, Stuart dismissed the whole subject, turned to his desk, and in a moment was busy at his official writing. VII. THE BALL BEFOPwE THE BATTLE. On the same evening I was riding with Stuart toward Cul- peper Court-House. "Do you know where we are going, Surry?" he said, with a laugh. "I can guess, I think." " Try." " To the ball given by the young officers to the Charlottesville belles to-night." " You are wrong, old fellow. I don't dare to go there." "Don't dare?" " Well, that is the word," he replied ; "I am not afraid of the Yankees, but I am of gossips — above all, of the valorous corre- spondents of the newspapers." "I begin to understand now." " They are dangerous." "Yes." Stuart cantered on, playing with his glove as usual. "Think of Messieurs the bomb-proof critics!" he laughed. " They already say I reviewed the cavalry with a wreath of flowers around my horse's neck." "Is it possible?" " They say so everywhere ; and I will tell you the foundation for the charge. In passing through the Court-House on the morn- ing of the review, a young lady friend of mine ran out from her house and threw a wreath over the neck of my horse. Well, I THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE. 33 think it is something to be courteous in this world. I did not throw it off. I thanked her, rode on, and only removed it when I got out of sight. Meeting General Lee, I told him of it, laugh- ing, and he said, with a smile: 'Why did you not wear it?'* I might as well have done so, Surrv, for vou see I have the credit of it. Why try to be temperate, and pure, and soldierly ? I am a drunkard, a libertine, and a popinjay! But I care nothing. I intend to do my duty, old fellow, and the next few days will probably show if I can fight." With which words Stuart broke into a song, cantered on more rapidly, and passing without drawing rein through the Court- House, soon reached General Lee's head-quarters on an eminence bevond. Here he remained for an hour, in private interview with the commander-in-chief. Finally, they came out together. Gen- eral Lee in his plain uniform, with that sedate dignity of bearing which made the gray old cavalier so superb. I had the honor to receive his salute, and to press his hand, and then I set out with General Stuart for Fleetwood. In passing through the Court-House we observed the windows of a large building all ablaze with lights, and heard the merry notes of music. Stuart drew rein. "I think I will drop in for a few minutes, in spite of every thing!" he said. "See the end of all my excellent resolutions, Surry!" And rapidly dismounting, Stuart entered the ball-room. I fol- lowed. If the review was imposing, the ball was charming. Youths and maidens had assembled promptly at the sound of music, and, if I were a poet or a penny-a-liner, my dear reader, I would compose a fine description of the merry spectacle. But alas ! I am neither; and feel unequal to the "ornate" style of writing. I am only a battered old militaire, with a number of great events to speak of. Look in the newspapers of that period for an ac- count of the assembly. Let me say, however, in passing, that there was something sad as well as joyful, gloomy as well as brilliant, in all that echoing ♦Fact 34 MOHUN. laughter, and the movements of these gay figures, on the eve of the bloody battle of Fleetwood. Girls were smiling upon youths who in twelve hours w^ould be dead. Lips were shaping gallant compliments — soon they were going to utter the death-groan. All went merry as a marriage-bell, and they danced to the joy- ous music. Soon the cannon would begin to roll, and the youths would charge to that stormy music as they danced to this. I was gazing at the lively assemblage — at the undulating forms moving to and fro, the gay uniforms, the fluttering scarfs, the snowy arms, the rosy cheeks, when ray attention was attracted by a figure which made me lose sight of all else. It \vas that of a young girl about twenty, tall, stately, and beautiful. Iler dark hair was carried back in glossy waves, and ended in profuse curls. Her cheeks resembled blush roses; the eyes were large, brilliant, and full of laughing hauteur; the lips red, and wreathed into a dazzling smile, which was the perfec- tion of satirical mirth. I grow extravagant; but this young girl was superb. There was something queenlike and imposing in her movements and whole appearance. She seemed to look down on the crowd with satirical disdain, and the gay youths who surrounded her were every instant struck by the bright shafts of a wit which spared nothing. Who w^as this dangerous beauty, who received the attentions of the youiig officers with so much careless disdain ? I asked that question of a friend and he replied : "Miss Georgia Conway, a daughter of Judge William Con- way." "Ah," I said, "the statesman? — the successor of Randolph in bitter oratory?" " Yes, and yonder ho is." I looked in the direction indicated, and saw an elderly gentle- man of small stature, with long gray hair, and lips full of benignant smiles. He wore a suit of black, and there was some- thing courtly and attractive in every movement of the slender figure. His low bow and sweet smile were the perfection of old- time courtesy. I was still looking at this gentleman, whose fame had extended 1 THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE. 35 tlironghout Yirginia and the whole South, when a familiar voice near me, attracted my attention. It was tliat of Captain Dave- nant, the young officer of the horse artillery, and glancing in the direction of the voice I saw him hending over a young lady who was seated and conversing with him. She was a girl of seventeen, with hlne eyes, auburn hair, and a complexion as fair as a lily. As Davenant addressed her in low tones, she gazed up into his face with an expression of confiding aifection. In the eyes of the young officer I could- read a profound and ardent love. Turning to my friend I inquired the name of the young lady, in turn. "Miss Yirginia Conway," he replied, "the only sister of Miss Georgia." He had scarcely uttered the words, when Davenant's interview with the young lady terminated in a very singular manner. Sud- denly Judge Conway passed through the crowd, reached the spot where the young people were conversing, and darting a glance of positive fury at the youth — a glance which made his eyes re- semble coals of fire — offered his arm to his daughter, and abruptly bore her away. Davenant's face flushed crimson, and his eyes darted flame. He took a step as though about to follow — but all at once he stopped. Then from red his face became pale. The old expression of sadness returned to his lips. "With head bent down, and a faint color stealing over his cheeks, he went toward the door, passed through it, and disappeared. Before I had time to reflect upon this singular incident, I heard the voice of Stuart. "Come, Surry! to horse! unless you wish to remain!" he said. "Beady, general!" I replied. And in five minutes we were galloping toward Fleetwood. "A gay ball," said Stuart, as we rode along; " but do you re- member my instinct^ Surry?" " Perfectly, general. Has it told you something on the pres- ent occasion?" "Yes." "What?" 36 MOHUN. " You have heard of the famous ball at Brussells, broken np by the guns of "Waterloo?" " Certainly." "TVell, I think that this one will prove similar — that cannon are going to thunder before the music stops." Stuart had scarcely spoken when rapid hoof-strokes were heard in front, and a horseman shot by. "Have you seen General Stuart?" said a voice in the dark- ness. "Here I am! — what news, Stringfellow ?" The horseman drew rein so suddenly that his horse was thrown upon his haunches. "You will be attacked at daylight, general." "Well,— what force?" " The whole Yankee cavalry, with infantry and artillery sup- ports." " All right ; ride back with me, and tell me every thing, String- fellow." In half an hour we were at liead-quarters. Stuart dismounted and entered his tent. "You see I was right, Surry," he said turning toward me, " and there is something in my instinct after all!" VIII. FLEETWOOD. At daylight a long thunder came up from the woods of the llappahannock. The greatest cavalry combat of the war had begun. At that sound Stuart leaped to the saddle, and rode rapidly toward the front. Fifteen minutes afterward his head-quarters had vanished. On the green slope of Fleetwood not a tent was visible. Is the reader familiar with the country along the Upper Rappa- FLEETWOOD. 37 hannock? If so, lie will remember that the river is crossed in Cnlpeper by numerous fords. The principal — beginning on the left, that is to say, up the river — are Welford's, Beverly's, the liailroad bridge, and Kelly's fords. Stuart's left, under William H. F. Lee, was opposite Welford's ; liis centre, under Jones, opposite Beverly's ; his right, under Hampton, toward Kelly's ; and a force under Robertson was posted in the direction of Stevensburg, to guard the right flank. The whole amounted to about seven or eight thousand cavalry. The Federal column which now advanced to attack it, is said to have embraced all the cavalry of General Hooker's army ; and must have numbered more than twelve thousand sabres. Stuart rode on rapidly down. Fleetwood Hill, and was soon op- posite Beverly's Ford where the enemy had crossed in force. General Jones was heavily engaged, and the i^apoleons of the horse artillery were roaring steadily. Every moment the round shot crashed, or the shell tore througli the woods about three hundred yards in front of the pieces where the dismounted cavalry of the enemy had effected a lodgment. They kept up a hot fire at the cannoneers, and the steady rattle of carbines further up tlie river told that Lee was also engaged. In face of the bursting shell, the blue tirailleurs could not advance ; and Stuart sent an order to Hampton to move in and attack on the right. The troopers of the Gulf States advanced at the word; their dense column was seen slowly moving, with drawn sabre, across the plain ; the moment of decisive struggle seemed rapidly approach- ing, when suddenly a heavy blow was struck at Stuart's rear. I had been directed by him to ascertain if " every thing had been sent off from Fleetwood," and to see that no papers had been dropped there in the hurry of departure. Going back at a gallop I soon reached the hill, and rode over the ground recently occupied by the head-quarters. The spot seemed swept. Not a paper was visible. All that I could see was a withered bouquet dropped by some young ofiicer of the staff — a relic, no doubt, of the last night's ball at the village. I had already turned to ride back to Stuart, when my attention was attracted by a column of cavalry advancing straight on Brandy p 3 MOnUN. —that is, upon Stuart's rear. "What force was that ? Could it be the enemy ? It was coming from the direction of Stevensburg ; but how could it have passed our force there? ''Look!" I said to an officer of the horse artillery, one bat- tery of which was left in reserve on the hill, "look! what col- umn is that?" "It must be Wickham's," was his reply. "I am sure they are Yankees!" "Impossible!" he exclaimed. But our doubts were soon terminated. From the rapidly ad- vancing column two guns shot out and unlimbered. Then two white puffs of smoke spouted from their muzzles, and the enemy's shell burst directly in our faces. The horse artillery returned the fire, and I hastened back with the intelligence to Stuart. *' It is only a squadron I suppose," he replied with great cool- ness. " Go back and get all the cavalry you can, and charge the guns and bag them !" * It is impossible to imagine any thing calmer than the speaker's voice. I knew, however, that the attack was more critical than he supposed; hastened back ; came up with two regiments; and they ascended the hill at full gallop, leaping the ravines, and darting toward the crest. Suddenly it blazed with staggering volleys. The Federal cavalry had rushed straight across the fields toward the hill — ascended its western slope as we ascended the eastern, and met xis — coming on, in squadron front, they struck the Confederates advancing in column of fours, and in confusion from the rough ground — they recoiled — were thrown into disorder ; and with loud cheers the enemy swarmed all over Fleetwood Hill. The battle seemed lost. Stuart was cut off, and hemmed in between two powerful bodies of Federal cavalry, supported by infantry and artillery. All that saved us at that moment, was the " do or die " fight- ing of the cavalry and horse artillery. On the crest of Fleetwood took place a bitter and obstinate struggle. It was one of those fights of the giants, which once * His worda. FLEETWOOD. 39 ■witnessed is never forgotten. The cannoneers of the horse artillery fought as savagely, hand to hand, as the regular cav- alry ; and the crest became the scene of a mad wrestle, rather of wild beasts than men. All at once the form of Davenant appeared amid the smoke. He liad come rapidly from the front, and now threw himself into the combat like the bloodhound to which Stuart had compared him. His sad smile had disappeared ; his cheeks were flushed ; his eyes fiery ; — leaping from his horse, he seized the sponge-staff of a gun, from which all the cannoneers had been driven, and ramming home a charge of canister, directed the gun upon a column of the enemv. Before he could fire, a Federal cavalryman rode at him, and cut furiously at his bare head, with the full weight of his sabre. Davenant did not try to draw his sword — the attempt would have been useless. In his hand he had a weapon ; and with a swing of the rammer he swept the cavalryman from the saddle.'" He fell headlong, covered with blood ; and Davenant aimed and fired the charge of canister — leaped upon his horse — and drawing his sword, plunged into the melee, his head bare, his eyes flaming, his voice rising loud and inspiring, above the combat. It was a stubborn, a superb struggle. Three times the enemy's guns were charged and captured ; three times the Confederates were furiously charged in turn, and the pieces recaptured by the enemy.* A flnal charge of the gray cavalry carried all before it. The Federal artillery was seized upon, and their cavalry driven back — ^but at that moment a heavier force still was seen advancing upon Stuart from the direction of Kelly's ford. It was a splendid spectacle. They came on in solid column, and rapidly formed line of battle on the slope of Fleetwood, with drawn sabres, and flags floating. As they moved they seemed to shake the very ground. I had never before seen so great a force of cavalry drawn up — and the critical moment of the battle had plainly come. At that i^istant the great field presented a remarkable appear- ance. Cavalry were charging in every direction, and it was hard to tell friend from foe. Stuart was fighting, so to say, from the * Fact. 2* 40 MOHTJN. centre outwards. The enemy were in his front, in his rear, and on both his flanks. If they dosed in, apparently, he would be crushed as in a vice. The iron hand would strangle him. That moment tested the nerves. Stuart's " heart of oak " bore the strain. He was aroused, stung, his cheeks burned, his eyes flamed — but the man was sufficient for the work. I looked .closely at him. " Do or die " was plain on his face. From that instant I never had any doubts about Stuart. He rushed two pieces of artillery to a knoll in front of the line of Federal horsemen. A moment afterward two reports were heard, and two shell burst x>recisely in the middle of the line, uja- king a wide gap in it, and checking the charge which had begun.* All at once I saw a column of cavalry coming up from the river, and turning to Stuart, said : — " General, what cavalry is that ?" "Hampton's!" Stuart exclaimed. "Bring it up like light- ning!"t I set out at full gallop, and soon reached the column. At the head of it rode Young, the beau sabreur of Georgia, erect, gal- lant, with his brave eye and smile. I pointed out the enemy and gave the order. "All right!" exclaimed Young, and, turning to his men, he whirled his sabre around his head and shouted, " Forward !" The column thundered on, and as it passed I recognized Mohun, his flashing eje and burnished sabre gleaming trom tlie dust-cloud. In live minutes they were in front of the enemy — the men wheeled and faced the Federal line. " Charge!" rose from a hundred lips. Spurs were buried in the hot flanks ; the mass was hurled at the enemy ; and clashing like thunder, sword against sword, swept every thing before it. Kot a single shot was fired — the sabre only was used. The enemy were broken to pieces — what I saw was a wild melee of whirling swords, flying horses, men cloven to the chin ; while others were seen throwing themselves from the saddle, and raising their hands to escape the keen swordsmen slashing at them.* * Fact. t His words. FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. 41 The great force of the enemy sweeping do\vn on Stuart's flank was thns routed. The spectacle which followed was ludicrous as well as exciting. The enemy fled in disorder. Never before had I seen the nails in the hind shoes of hundreds of horses — myriads of horses' tails streaming like meteors as they ran ! The force disappeared in the woods, hotly pursued by their foes. The dust followed them in a great cloud — from that cloud arose yells and cheers — cannon thundered ; carbines rattled ; — but that sound receded more and more rapidly toward the river On our left the brave William H. F. Lee had been as successful. He had charged and repulsed the enemy, falling wounded at the head of his men. They had not again advanced upon him. Near the Barbour House he presented an unbroken front to them. Stuart held with his cavalry, indeed, the whole Fleetwood range. The long thunder of his artillery said to the enemy, "Come on!" They did not come. They went back. Tlieir cavalry had crossed the river to ascertain the meaning of the great review. They had discovered nothing, after heavy loss. The ground was strewed with their dead and dying — they retired, shattered and bleeding. Stuart's loss was also great — even his staff was not spared. One of my brother staff officers was killed, another wounded, a third captured. But Stuart had won the greatest cavalry fight of the war. IX. MOHUN FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. In a room of the "Barbour House " on Fleetwood Hill, Stuart was writing a dispatch to General Lee. It was nearly sunset, and the red light was streaming through the windows. On the floor lay a number of wounded men, groan- ing piteously. Busily attending to their wants were two young 42 MOHUN girls — the daughters of Judge Conwaj, whom I had seen on tlie night of the hall. The young ladies, I afterward discovered, had been on a visit to the family occupying the Barbour House ; had courageously re- mained during the whole of the battle — and they were now busily attending to the wants of the wounded. I was gazing at the eldest — the superb beauty with the disdain- ful eyes, who had held that wit-combat with her circle of admi- rei's — \vhen Stuart finished his dispatches, and turned round. " Any reports ?" he said briefly to a member of his staff. "None, general — except that Colonel Mohun is reported killed." "Mohun! It is impossible! He drove the enemy, and was un- hurt. I would not swap him for a hundred, nor a thousand of the enemy!" "Thank you, general!" said a sonorous voice behind us. And Mohun entered, making the military salute as he did so. In his bearing I could discern the same cool pride, mingled with satire. There was only one change in him. He was paler than ever, and I could see that his right shoulder was bloody. As he entered, Miss Georgia Conway, who was bending over a wounded soldier, raised lier head and looked at him. Mohun's eye met her own, and he bowed ceremoniously, taking no further notice of her. At this exhibition of careless indifference I could see Miss Conway's face flush. An expression of freezing hauteur came to the beautiful lips ; and the disdainful glance indicated that her amour 'pro'pre was deeply wounded. She turned her back upon him abruptly — but as Mohun had already turned his. the movement failed in its object. The officer was looking at Stuart, who had grasped his hand. He winced as the general pressed it, and turned paler, but said nothing. "Then you are not dead, Mohun !" exclaimed Stuart, laughing. " Not in the least, general, I am happy to inform you," re- plied Mohun. " I am truly glad to hear it ! "What news?" " Our party is all over. We followed them up until they re- crossed the river — and I owed them this little pieca of politeness FAINTS AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. 43 for I recognized an old acquaintance in the ccynmander of the squadron." " An acquaintance ?" "A certain Colonel Darke — a charming person, general." And Mohun laughed. "I recognized him yonder when we charged on the hill^ and, at first, he followed his men when they broke. As I got close to him, however, in the woods, he recognized me in turn, and we crossed swords. He is brave — no man braver; and he did his utmost to put an end to me. I had somewhat similar views my- self in reference to my friend, the colonel, but his men inter- posed and prevented my carrying them out. They were all around me, slashing away. I was nearly cut out of the saddle — I was carried away from my friend in the melee — and the un- kindest cut of all was his parting compliment as he retreated through the river." " What was that, Mohun ?" "A bullet from his pistol, which grazed my shoulder. A mere scratch, but provoking. I saw him grin as he fired." "An old friend on the Yankee side? Well, that happens," said Stuart — "Frequently, general," said Mohun; "and this one was Tcry dear, indeed — most tenderly attached to me, I assure you. My aff'ection for him is of the same endearing nature : and we only crossed sabres in jest — a mere fencing bout for amusement. We would not hurt each other for worlds!" And Mohun's mustache curled with laughter. There was something restless and sinister in it. Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed. "Well, Mohun," said Stuart, who was not looking at him ; "I am going to send you across the river on a reconnoissance to- night." "All right, general." And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered, and Stuart raised his eyes. "You are wounded!" he exclaimed. "A trifle," laughed Mohun. But as hb spoke, his frame tottered ; his face assumed the hue 4A MOHUN. of a corpse ; and he would liave fallen, had not Miss Georgia Conway started up unconsciously from the wounded man whom she was attending to, and supported the officer in her arms. Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to Iiis pale face. "A pretty tableau!" I heard him murmur; "it would do to put in a romance. A cup of tea— or a pistol — that would finish — " As he uttered these singular words, the blood gushed from his tt'ounded shoulder, his eyes closed, and, his head falling on tho bosom of the young girl, he fainted. X. THE SLIM AXIMAL. Fleetwood was the first gun of the great campaign which cul- minated on the heights of Gettysburg. A week afterward, Lee's colunms were in motion toward Pennsylvania. Was that invasion the dictate of his own judgment? History will answer. What is certain is, that the country, like the army, shouted "Forward!" The people were ablaze with wild enthu- siasm ; the soldiers flushed with the pride of their great victories of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. The authorities at Eich- mond shared the excitement, and the commissary-general, with unwonted humor, or in sober earnest, indorsed, it is said, upon a requisition for supplies: "If General Lee wishes rations, let him seek them in Pennsylvania." I doubt if the great commander shared the general agitation. I think he aimed to draw Hooker out of Virginia, leaving tlie rest to Providence. So he moved toward the Potomac. The world had called Lee cautious. After this invasion, that charge was not repeated. From first to last audacity seemed the sentiment inspiring him. With Hooker on the Rappahannock, threatening Richmond, Lee thrust his advance force under Ewell through the Blue Ridge THE SLIM ANIMAL. 45 toward Maryland ; pushed Longstreet np to Culpeper to support him, and kept only A. P. Ilill-at Fredericksburg to bar the road to the Confederate capital. Hooker wished to advance upon it, but President Lincoln for- bade him. The dispatch was a queer othcial document. " In case you find Lee coming to the north of the Rappahan- nock," Lincoln wrote, "I would by no means cross to the south of it. I would not take any risk of being entangled upon the river, like an ox jumped half over afence^ and liahle to he torn hy dogs^ front and rear^ icithout a fair chance to gore one way or TcicTc the other:' Ludicrous perhaps, but to the point; the "Rail-Splitter" was not always dignified, but often judicious. Chancellorsville had been defeat — Lee's assault, foreboded thus by Lincoln, would be death. Hooker fell back, therefore, in the direction of Washington. Lee had foreseen that fact, and had given himself small anxiety. His three corps were already in full motion toward the Potomac; and suddenly the thunder of artillery came on the winds of the mountains. Ewell, the head of the Southern spear, was driving at Milroy, holding Winchester. The struggle was brief. General Milroy had put the iron heel on the poor valley ; had oppressed the unfortunate people beyond the power of words — and suddenly the hand of Fate clutched and shook him to death. Ewell stormed his " Star Fort " near Winchester, with the bayonet ; drove him to headlong flight ; got in rear of him, capturing nearly all his command ; and poor Milroy scarce managed to escape, with a small body-guard, beyond the Potomac. " In my opinion Milroy's men will fight better under a soldier /" It was his commanding officer, Hooker, who wrote those words a few days afterward. From the hands of his own general came that unkindest cut-! Exit Milroy, thus, amid hisses and laughter — the hornet's nest at Winchester was swept away — and Ewell headed straight for Pennsylvania. Longstreet came up rapidly to fill the gap in the line — Hill followed Longstreet — and then the world beheld the singular 46 , MOnUN. spectacle of an army extended in a lonj skirmisli line over a hundred miles, with another army massed not daring to assail it. Hooker did not see his "opening;" bnt Lincoln did. One ot his dispatches has been quoted — here is another as amusing anT. tent on taking the place, when I was sent by Stuart to order him *' not to go too far." I came up with Chambliss as he was charging, but had scarce- ly given him the order, when he was charged in turn by a heavy force and driven back. The enemy rushed on, firing volleys, and the road was full of tramping horsemen. To avoid being carried away with them, I diverged into a field, when all at once Stuart appeared, retreating at full gallop before a party who were chasing him; It was a serious matter then, but I laugh now, remembering that "good run." Stuart and myself retreated at a gallop, boot to boot ; leaped ditches and fences; and got off in safety. A few moments afterward his artillery opened its thunders. From the lofty hill, that hardy captain of the horse artillery, Breathed, roared obstinately, driving them back. Hampton's guns on the right had opened too — and until night, we held the heights, repulsing every advance of the enemy. It was truly a fine spectacle, that handsome town of Hanover as I looked at it, on the afternoon of the fair June day. In front extended green fields ; then the church spires rose above the ' roofs of the town ; behind, a range of mountains formed a pic- turesque background. It is true, the adjuncts of the scene were far from peaceful. The green fields were full of blue sharp- shooters ; in the suburbs were posted batteries ; down the moun- tain road behind, wound a long compact column of cavalry. Breathed fought hard that day. From the waving field of rye on the upland his guns thundered on — in the face of that fire, the enemy could not, or would not, advance. So the night came on, and Stuart's great train moved. Those wagons were a terrible encumbrance to us on the march. But Stuart determined not to abandon them, and thev were dragged on — a line stretched to infinity ! Thenceforth, dear reader, the march was a sort of dream to me. How can I relate niy adventures — the numerous spectacles and events of the time ? I know not even now if they were events or mere dreams, seeing that, all the long way, I was half asleep in the saddle I It was a veritable Drowsyland that Ave moved through DPwOWSYLAis'D. 69 on horseback! The Dutchmen, the "fraus," the "spreading," the sauer-kraut — the conestogas, the red barns, the guttural voices, the strange faces — were these actual things, or the mere fancies of a somnambulist? Was I an officer of real cavalry making a real march ; or a fanciful being, one of a long column of phantoms ? I seem dimly to remember a pretty face, whose owner smiled on me — and a faint memory remains of a supper which she gave me. If I am not mistaken I was left alone in the town of Salem — ^hostile faces were around me — and I was falling asleep when Hampton's cavalry came up. I think, then, I rode on with him — having been left to direct him. That we talked about horses, and the superiority of " blood " in animals ; that at dawn, Hampton said, " I am perishing for sleep!" and that we lay down, side by side, near a haystack. All that is a sort of phantasmagoria, and others were no better than myself. "Whole columns went to sleep, in the saddle, as they rode along; and General Stuart told me afterward, that he saw a man attempt to climb over a fence, half succeed only, and go to sleep on the top rail ! Some day I promise myself the pleasure of travelling in Penn- sylvania. It possesses all the attractions to me of a world seen iu a dream! But after that good sleep, side by side with the great Carolinian, things looked far more real, and pushing on I again caught up with Stuart. He advanced steadily on Carlisle, and in the afternoon we heard artillery from the south. I looked at my military map, and calculated the distance. The result was that I said : — " General, those guns are at a place called Gettysburg on this map." " Impossible!" was his reply. "They can not be fighting there. You are certainly wrong." But I was right. Those guns were the signal of the "First day's fight at Gettys- burg." '0 MOHUN. XIX. CARLISLE BY FIPwELIGHT. It can not be said th.it we accomplished very enormous results at Carlisle. The enemy defended it bravely. Stuart sent in a flag, demanding a surrender : this proposition was politely declined ; and for fear that there might possibly re- main some doubts on the subject, the Federal commander of the post, opened with artillery upon the gray cavalry. That was the signal for a brisk fight, and a magnificent spec- tacle also. As soon as the enemy's response to the flag of truce liad been received, Stuart advanced his sharp-shooters, replied with his artillery to their own, and dispatched a party to destroy the ex- tensive United States barracks, formerly used as cantonments for recruits to the array. In ten minutes tlie buildings were wrapped in flames; and the city of Carlisle was illumined magnificently. The crimson light of the conflagration revealed every house, the long lines of trees, and made the delicate church spires, rising calmly aloft, resemble shafts of rose-tinted marble. I recall but one scene which was equally picturesque — the "doomed city" of Fredericksburg, on the night of December 11, 1862, when the church spires were illumined by the burning houses, as those of Carlisle were in June, 18C3. So much for this new "Siege of Carlisle." Here ray descrip- ion ends. It was nothing — a mere picture. An hour afterward Stuart ceased firing, the conflagration died down; back into the black night sank the fair town of Carlisle, seen then for the first and the last time by this historian. The guns were silent, the cavalry retired; and Stuart, accom- panied by his staflf, galloped back to a great deserted house where he established his temporary head-quarters. On the bold face there was an expression of decided ill-humor, lie had just received a dispatch, by courier, from General Lee. THE HOUSE IsEAR CARLISLE. 71 That dispatch said, '-Come, I need you urgently here," and the "here" in question, was Gettysburg, at least twenty miles distant. Now, with worn-out men and horses, twenty miles was a serious matter. Stuart's brows were knit, and he mused gloomily. Suddenly he turned and addressed me. " You were right, Surry," ho said, "those guns were at Get- tysburg. This dispatch, sent this morning, reports the enemy- near there." I bowed; Stuart reflected for some moments without speaking. Then he suddenly said : — " I wish you would go to General Lee, and say I am coming, Surry. How is your horse ?" " Worn-out, general, but I can get another." "Good ; tell General Lee that I will move at once to Gettys- burg, with all my force, and as rapidly as possible !" "I will lose no time, general." And saluting, I went out. From the captured horses I selected the best one I could find, and burying the spurs in his sides, set out through the black niirlit. XX. THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLLSLE AND GETTYSBURG. You know when you set out, the proverb says, but yon know not when you will arrive. I left Carlisle, breasting the night, on the road to Gettysburg, little thinking that a curious incident was to occur to me upon the way— an incident closely connected with the destinies of some personages who play prominent parts in this history. I had ridden on for more than an hour, through the darkness, keeping a good look-out for the enemy, whose scouting parties of cavalry were known to be prowling around, when all at once, my horse, who was going at full speed, struck his foot against a shar]) point of rock, cropping out from the surface: 72 MOHUX. The animal stumbled, recovered himself, and went on as rapidly as before. A liiindred yards further his speed relaxed ; then he began to limp painfully; then in spite of every application of the spur I could not force him out of a slow limping trot. It was truly unfortunate. I was the bearer of an important message, and was surrounded by enemies. The only chance was to pass through them, under shadow of the darkness ; with light they would perceive me, and my capture be certain. A hundred yards further, and I found I must decide at once upon the course to pursue. My horse seemed about to fall. At every stroke of the spur he groaned piteously, and his limp had become a stagger. I looked around through the trees, and at the distance of a quarter of a mile I saw the glimmer of a light. To obtain another horse was indispensable under the circumstances ; and looking to see that my revolver was loaded and capped, I forced my totter- ing animal toward the mansion in which the light glimmered. My design was simply to proceed thither, "impress" a fresh horse at the pistol's muzzle; throw my saddle upon him; leave my own animal, and proceed on my way. Pushing across the fields, and dismounting to let down the fences which my limping animal could not leap, I soon approached the light. It shone through the window of a house of some size, with ornamental grounds around it, and apparently the abode of a man of means. At fifty paces from it I dismounted and tethered my horse in the shadow of some trees. A brief reconnoissance under the cir- cumstances was advisable ; and approaching the mansion silently, without allowing my sabre to make any clatter, I gained the long portico in front, and went to a window reaching down to the flooring of the verandah. Through the half-closed Venetians I could see into a large apart- ment, half library, half sitting-room, as the easy chairs, mantel ornaments, desks, and book-cases showed. On the centre-table burned a brilliant lamp — and by its light I witnessed a spectacle which made me draw back in the shadow of the shutter, and rivet my eyes on the interior. Before me, in the illuminated apartment, I saw the woman THE HOUSE NEAR CARLISLE. 73 whom Mohiin had captured on the Rappahannock ; and beside her the personage with whom she had escaped that morning in the wagon from Culpeper Court-House. I could not mistake him. The large, prominent nose, the cunning eyes, the double chin, the fat person, and the chubby hands covered with pinchbeck rings, were still fresh in ray memory. The name of this personage had been revealed by Nighthawk. Swartz, the secret agent, blockade-runner, and ''best spy in the Federal army " was before rae. A glance at the woman revealed no change in her appearance. Before me was the same lithe and graceful figure, clad as before in a n-rav dress. I saw the same snow-white cheeks, red lips, and large eyes burning with a latent fire. The two were busily engaged, and it was not difficult to under- stand their occupation. The desks, drawers and chests of the apartment were all open ; and the female wiih rapid hands was transferring papers from them to Swartz, who methodically packed them in a leathern valise. These papers were no doubt important, and the aim to remove them to some place of safety beyond the reach of the Confederates. I gazed for some moments, without moving, upon the spectacle of these two night-birds at their work. The countenance of the lady was animated; her motions rapid; and from time to time she stopped to listen. Swartz, on the contrary, was the incarna- tion of phlegmatic coolness. His face wore an expression of entire equanimity ; and he seemed to indulge no fears whatever of intruders. All at once, however, I saw his eyes glitter as they fell upon a paper which she handed him to pack away with the rest. It was carefully folded, but one of the folds flew open as he received it, and his eyes were suddenly fixed intently upon the sheet. Then his head turned quickly, and he looked at his companion. She was bending over a drawer, and did not observe that glance. Thereupon Swartz folded up the paper, quietly put it in his pocket, and went on packing the valise with his former coolness; only a slight color in his face seemed to indicate concealed emotion. As he pocketed the paper, his companion turned round. It was plain that she had not perceived the manoeuvre. 74: MOHUX. At the same moment I heard the sound of hoofs in rear of the house, and the clatter of a sabre as a cavalier dismounted. A few indistinct words, apparently addressed to a servant or orderly, followed. Then the door of the apartment opposite the front win- dow was thrown open, and a man entered. In the new-comer I recognized M^ohun's adversary at Upper- ville — Colonel Darke, of the United States Cavalry. XXI. FALLEN Daeke entered the apartment abruptly, but his appearance seemed to occasion no surprise. The spy retained his coolness. The lady went on with her work. You would have said that they had expected the officer, and recognized his step. Their greeting was brief. Darke nodded in apparent approba- tion of the task in which the man and woman were engaged, and folding his arms in front of tlie marble mantel, looked on in silence. I gazed at him with interest, and more carefully than I had been able to do during the fight at Upperville, when the smoke soon concealed him. Let me draw his outline. Of all the human beings whom I encountered in the war, this one's character and career were perhaps the most remarkable. "Were I writing a romance, I should be tempted to call him the real hero of this volume. He was a man approaching middle age; low in stature, but broad, muscular, and powerful. He was clad in the full-dress uniform of a colonel of the United States Cavalry, wore boots reaching to the knee and decorated with large spurs; and his arms were an immense sabre and a brace of revolvers in black leatlier holsters attached to his belt. His face was swarthv, swollen by excess in drink apparently, and half covered by a shajzcrv beard and mustache as black as night. The eves were deep-set, and wary : the poise of the head upon the shoulders, FALLEN. Y5 haughty ; the expression of the entire countenance cold plUe- matic, grnn. ' ^ *= Such was this man, upon the surface. But there was some- thing more about him which irresistibly attracted attention, and aroused speculation. At tlie first glance, you set him down as a common-place ruffian, the prey of every brutal passion. At the second glance, you began to doubt whether he was a mere vulgar adventurer-you could see, at least, that this man was not of low birth. There was in his bearing an indefinable something 'Vlf .'°. '''^ that he had "seen better days." The surface of the fabric was foul and defiled, but the texture beneath was of velvet, not " hodden gray." '•That brute," I thought, "was once a gentleman, and crime or drink has destroyed him!" they pi.ed heir busy work; and once or twice he pointed to drawers wh.oh they had failed to open. These direction we c promptly obeyed, and the work went on. The few words wl.ich the panes uttered came in an indistinct murmur only throuc-1, the wmdow at which I was stationed. ° Such was the scene within the mansion, upon whicli I gazed with strong cur,os,ty: suddenly tl>e neigh of a horse was heard in a dump of woods beyond the front gate ; and Darke quickly raised ills head, and then came out to the portico He passed within three feet of me, but did not perceive me, as I was concealed by one of the open Venetians. Then he paused wat hd" • .^"r.""' ''''""' '" '"' ^°'"'«^- •-"'i " ^-t-' watch-dog was barking-that was all. No other noise disturbed the silence of the July night. Darke remained upon the portico for some moments, listening attentively. Then turned and re-entered the house. Througf he window, I could see him make his appearance again in the Illuminated apartment. In response to the glances of inquiry plablv^""'"'""''™' """ """"" " ^'""'■' "'''^' *'"' "^»' ^"'d "Nothing is stirring. You can go on with your work " In this however, he was mistaken. Darke had scarcely re-entered the apartment, when I discerned the hoof-strokes of 76 Monux. horses beyond the front gate — then the animals were heard leaping the low fence — a moment afterward two figures came on at full gallop, threw themselves from the saddle, and rapidly ap- proached the house. The rattle of a sabre which one of them wore attracted Darke's attention. He reached the door of the room at a single bound — but at the same instant the new comers rushed by me, and burst in. As they passed I recognized them. One was Mohun, the other Nighthawk. XXII. DARKE AXD MOHUN. What followed was instantaneous. The adversaries were face to face, and each drew his pistol and fired at the same moment. Neither was struck: they drew their swords; and, tlirouirh the cloud of smoke filling the apartment, I could see Darke and Mohun close in, in a hand to hand encounter. Tliey were both excellent swordsmen, and the struggle was pas- sionate and terrible. Mohun's movements were those of the tiger springing upon his prey; but Darke met the attack with a cool- ness and phlegm which indicated unshrinking nerve ; his expres- sion seemed, even, to indicate that crossing swords with his adversary gave the swarthy giant extreme pleasure. His face glowed, and a flash darted from beneath the shaggy eyebrows. I could see him smile; but the smile was stranire. From the adversaries my glance passed quickly to the gray woman. She was leaning against the wall, and exhibited no emo- tion whatever; but the lurid blaze in the great dark eyes, as she looked at Mohun, clearly indicated that a storm was raging in her bosom. Opposite the woman stood Xighthawk — motionless, but grasping a pistol. As to Swartz, that worthy had profited by an open window near, and had glided through it and disapi>carod. DAEKE AND MOHUN. 77 To return to the combatants. The passionate encounter ab- sorbed all my attention. Mohun and Darke were cutting at each other furiously. They seemed equally matched, and the result was doubtful. One thing only seemed certain — that in a few- minutes one of the adversaries would be dead. Such was the situation of affairs when shots were heard with- out, the clash of sabres followed, and the door behind Darke was burst open violently by his orderly, who rushed in, exclaiming : — "Look out, colonel I The enemy are on you !" As he uttered these words, the man drew a revolver and aimed at Mohun's breast. Before he could fire, however, an explosion was heard, and I saw the man suddenly drop his weapon, which went off as it escaped from his nerveless grasp. Then he threw up his hands, reeled, took two uncertain steps backward, and fell at full length on the floor. Nighthawk had shot him through the heart. All this had taken place in far less time than it has taken to write it. I had made violent efforts to break through the win- dow; and finding this impossible, now ran to the door and burst into the apartment. The sincrular scene was to have as singular a denouement. Darke evidently realized the great danger which he ran, for the house was now surrounded, nearly, and his capture was imminent. From the black eyes shot a glare of defiance, and advancing upon Mohun, he delivered a blow at him which nearly shattered his opponent's sword. Mohun struck in turn, aiming a furious cut at Darke; but as he did so, he stumbled over the dead or- derly, and nearly fell. For the moment he was at Darke's mercy. I rushed forward, sword in hand, to ward off the mortal stroke which I was certain his adversary would deliver, but my inter- vention was useless. Darke recoiled from his stumbling adversary, instead of striking at him. I could scarcely believe my own eyes, but the fact was unmistakable. Then the Federal colonel looked around, and his eye fell upon the woman. "Kill him!" she said, coldly. "Do not mind me! — only kill him !->' 78 MonuN. "No!" growled Darke. And seizing the woman in his arms : — "They shall not take you prisoner!" he said. And the swarthy Hercules passed through the door in rear, at a single bound, bearing off the woman like a feather. A moment afterward the hoof-strokes of a horse were heard. Darke had disappeared with the gray woman. I turned to look at Mohun. He was standing perfectly mo tionless, and looking after Darke with a strange expression of gloom and astonishment. " You are unhurt !" I said. He turned quickly, and held out his hand. " Slightly wounded — but I am not thinking of that." " Of what, then ?" "I remember only one thing — that this man might have buried his sword in my heart, and did not." An hour afterward the skirmish was over: I had explained my presence at the house to Mohun, parted with him, promising to see him soon again ; and, mounted upon a fresh animal which Mohun presented to me from among those captured, was once more on mv wav to Gettvsbarg. It was hard to realize that the scenes of the night were actual occurrences. They were more like dreams than realities. XXIII. GETTYSBURG. I CAME in sight of Gettysburg at sunrise. Gettysburg! — name instinct with so many tears, with so much mourning, with those sobs which tear their "way from the human heart as the lava makes its way from the womb of the volcano! There are words in the world's history whose very sound is like a sigh or a groan ; places which are branded " accursed " by the moaning lips of mothers, wives, sisters, and orphans. Shadowy figures, gigantic and draped in mourning, seem to hover GETTYSBUEG. 79 above these spots : skeleton arms "with bony fingers point to the soil beneath, crowded with graves : from the eyes, dim and hol- low, glare unutterable things : and the grin of the fieshless lips is the gibbering mirth of the corpse torn from its cerements, and erect, as though the last trump had sounded, and the dead had arisen. N"o fresh flowers bloom in these dreary spots ; no merry birds twitter there; no streamlets lapse sweetly with musical mur- murs beneath the waterflags or the drooping boughs of trees. See ! the blighted and withered plants are like the deadly night- shade — true flowers of war, blooming, or trying to bloom, on graves ! Hear the voices of the few birds — they are sad and dis- cordant ! See the trees — they are gnarled, spectral, and torn by cannon-balls. Listen! The stream yonder is not limpid and mirthful like other streams. You would say that it is sighing as it steals away, soiled and ashamed. The images it has mirrored arouse its horror and make it sad. The serene surface has not given back the bright forms of children, laughing and gathering the summer flowers on its banks. As it sneaks like a culprit through the scarred fields of battle, it washes bare the bones of the dead in crumbling uniforms — bringing, stark and staring, to the upper air once more, the blanched skeleton and the irrinuin-z skull. Names of woe, at whose utterance the heart shudders, the blood curdles! Accursed localities where the traveller draws back, turning away in horror! All the world is dotted with them ; everywhere they make the sunlight black. Among them, none is gloomier, or instinct with a more nameless horror, than the once insignificant village of Gettysburg. I reached it on the morning of July 2, 1863. The immense drama was in full progress. The adversaries had clashed together. Riding across the extensive fields north of the town, I saw the traces of the combat of the preceding day — and among the dying I remember still a poor Federal soldier, who looked at me with his stony and half glazed eye as I passed; he was an enemy, but he was dying and I pitied him. A few words will describe the situation of affairs at that mo- ment. Lee had pressed on northward through the valley of the Cum- 4 80 MOHUN. berland. when news came that General Meade, Avho had succeeded Hooker, was advancing to deliver battle to the invaders. At that intelligence Lee arrested his march. Meade menaced his communications, and it was necessary to check him. llilTs corps was, therefore, sent across the South Mountain, toward Gettysburg ; Ewell, who had reached York, was ordered back ; and Lee made his preparations to fight his adversary as soon as he appeared. The columns encountered each other in the neighborhood of Gettysburg — a great centre toward which a number of roads con- verge, like the spokes of a wheel toward the hub. The head of Hill's column struck the head of Reynolds's — then the thunder began. The day and scene were lovely. On the waving wheat-fields and the forests in full foliage, the light of a summer sun fell in flashing splendor. A shght rain had fallen ; the wind was gently blowing ; and tlie leaves and golden grain were covered with drops wliich the sunshine changed to diamonds. Over the exquisite landscape drooped a beautiful rainbow. Soon blood had replaced the raindrops, and the bright bow spanning the sky was hidden by lurid smoke, streaming aloft from burning buildings, set on fire by shell. I give but a few words to this first struggle, which I did not witness. The Federal forces rushed forward, exclaiming : — "We have come to stay!" "And a very large portion of them," said one of their officers, General Doubleday, "never left that ground!" Alas! many thousands in gray, too, "came to stay." Hill was hard pressed and sent for assistance. Suddenly it ap- peared from the woods on his left, where Ewell's bayonets were seen, coming back trorn the Susquehanna. Rodes, the head of Ewell's corps, formed line and threw him- self into the action. Early came up on the left; Rodes charged and broke through the Federal centre. Gordon, commanding a brigade then, closed in on their right flank, and the battle was decided. The great blue crescent was shattered, and gave way. The Con- THE ARMY. 81 federates pressed on, and the Federal array became a rabble. They retreated pellmell through Gettysburg, toward Cemetery Hill, leaving their battle-flags aud five thousand prisoners in our hands. Such was the first day's fight at Gettysburg. Lee's head of column had struck Meade's ; each had rapidly been re-enforced ; the affair became a battle, and the Federal forces were completely defeated. That was the turning point of the campaign. If this success had only been followed up — if we could only have seized upon and occupied Cemetery Hill! Then General Meade would have been compelled to retire upon Westminster and Washington. He would doubtless have fought somewhere, but it is a terrible thing to have an army flushed with victory " after " you I Cemetery Range was not seized that night. "When the sun rose the next morning, the golden moment had passed. General Meade was ready. From right to left, as far as the eye could reach, the heights bristled with blue infantry and artillery. From every point on the ridge waved the enemy's battle flags. From the muzzles of his bronze war-dogs, Meade sent his defiant challenge to his ad- versary to attack him. "Come on!" the Federal artillery seemed to mutter fiercely. And Lee'B guns from the ridge opposite thundered grimly in reply, "We are coming!" XXIY. THE ARMY. Alas!- That is the word which rises to the lips of every Southerner, above all to every Virginian, who attempts to describe this terri- ble battle of Gettysburg. 82 MOnUN. Tlie cheeks flusL, the voice falters, and sometliing like a fiery mist blinds the eyes. Wliat comes back to the memory of the old soldiers who saw that fight is a great picture of heroic as- saults, ending in frightful carnage only, — of charges snch as the world has rarely seen, made in vain, — of furious onslaughts, the only result of which was to strew those fatal fields with the dead bodies of the flower of the Southern race And we were so near succeeding ! Twice the enemy staggered ; and one more blow — only one more! promised the South a com- plete victory ! When Longstreet attacked Round Top Uill, driving the enemy back to their inner line, victory seemed within our very grasji — but we could not snatch it. The enemy acknowledge that, and it is one of their own poets who declares that " The century reeled "VThen Longstreet paused on the shipe of the hill." Pickett stormed Cemetery Heights, and wanted only support. Five thousand men at his back would have given him victory. There is a name for the battle of Gettysburg which exactly suits it — " The Great Graze !" You must go to the histories, reader, for a detailed account of this battle. I have not the heart to write it, and aim to give you a few scenes only. In my hasty memoirs I can touch only upon the salient points, and make the general picture. The ground on which the battle was fought, is familiar to many thousands. A few words will de.scribe it. Cemetery Eidge, where General Meade had taken up his position, is a range of hills running northward toward Gettysburg, within a mile of which place it bends off to the right, terminating in a lofty and rock-bound crest. This crest was Meade's right. His line stretched away south- ward then, and ended at Round Top Hill, the southern extremity of the range, about four miles distant. From one end to the other of the extensive range, bayonets glistened, and the muzzles of cannon grinned defiance. Opposite the Cemetery Range was a lower line of hills, called Seminary Range. Upon this Lee was posted, Ewell holding his left, A. P. Hill his centre, and Longstreet his right. THE ARMl. 83 Between the two armies stretched a valley, -waving with grain and dotted with fruit-trees, through whicli ran the Emmettsburg road, on the western side of a small stream. TJje golden grain waved gently ; the limpid water lapsed away beneath grass and flowers ; the birds were singing ; the sun was shining — it was the strangest of all scenes for a bloody conflict. I rode along the lino of battle, and curiously scanned the fea- tures of the landscape. There is a frightful interest connected with ground which is soon going to become the arena of a great combat. A glance told me that the enemy's position was much the stronger of the two. Would Lee attack it ? From the landscape I turned to look at the array. JTever had I seen them so joyous. It would be impossible to convey any idea of the afllatus which buoyed them up. Every man's veins seemed to run with quicksilver, instead of blood. Every cheek was glowing. Every eye flashed with superb joy and defiance. You would have supposed, indeed, that the troops were under the effect of champagne or laughing gas. ''I never even imagined such courage," said a Federal officer afterward; "your men seemed to be drunk with victory when they charged us !" That was scarce an exaggeration. Alreadv on the morning of battle they presented this appearance. Lying down in line of battle, they laughed, jested, sang, and resembled children enjoy- ing a holiday. On the faces of bearded veterans and boy-soldiors alike was a splendid pride. The victories of Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville had electrified the troops. They tliouglit little of a foe who could be so easily driven ; they looked forward to victory as a foregone conclusion — alas! they did not remember that they held the heights at Fredericksburg ; and that jloade on Cemetery Hill was an adversary very different from Hooker in the Spottsylvania ^Yilderness ! Such was the spectacle which I witnessed, when after deliver- ing my message to General Lee, I rode along the Southern line, I think the great commander shared in some measure the senti- ment of his troops. His bearing was collected; in his eye you could read no trace of excitement ; the lips covered by the gray mustache were firm and composed ; and he greeted me with 84: MOIIUN. quiet courtesy: — but ia the cheeks of the great soldier a ruddj glow seemed to betray anticipated victory. I confess I sliared the general sentiment. That strange intoxi cation was contagious, and I was drunk like the rest witli thp thougiit of triumph. That triumph would open to us the gates of Wasliington and bring peace. The North scarcely denied that then — though they may deny it to-day. The whole country was completely weary of the war. There seemed to be no hope of compelling the South to return to the Union. A victory over Meade, opening the whole North to Lee, promised a treaty of peace. The day had arrived, apparently when the army of Northern Virginia, musket in hand, was about to dictate the terms of that document. " Lee has only to slip the leash," I thought, as I gazed at the army, "and these war-dogs will tear down their prey!" Alas ! they tore it, but were torn too ! they did all at Gettys- burg that any troops could do. What was impossible, was beyond even their strength. XXV. THE WRESTLE FOR ROUND TOP HILL. From the morning of the second of July to the evening of the third, the fields south of Gettj'sburg were one great scene of smoke, dust, yproar, blood; of columns advancing and returning; can- non thundering; men shouting, yelling, cheering, and dying; blue mingled with gray in savage and unrelenting battle. In that smoke-cloud, with the ears deafened, you saw or heard little distinctly. But above the confused struggle rose two great incidents, which on successive days decided every thing. The first of them was Longstreet's assault on the enemy's left wing, in front of Round Top Plill. Lee had displayed excellent soldiership in determining upon this movement, and it will be seen that it came within an inch of THE WRESTLE. 85 success. Standing upon Seminary Range, near his centre, be had reconnoitered General Meade's position through his field-glass, with great attention ; and this examination revealed the fact that the Federal line was projected forward in a salient in front of Round Top Hill, a jagged and almost inaccessible peak, near which rested General Meade's extreme left. If this weak point could be carried, " it appeared " said Lee, " that its possession would give facilities for assailing and carry- ing the more elevated ground and crest beyond." As to ihe importance of tliat crest— namely Round Top Hill- hear General Meade: — ♦' If they had succeeded in occupying that, it would have pre- vented me from holding any of the ground which I subsequently held to the last." Lee determined to attack the salient, making at the same time a heavy demonstration — or a real assault— upon the Federal right, opposite Ewell. All his preparations were not made until the afternoon. Then suddenly, Longstreet's artillery opened its thunders. At that moment the spectacle was grand. The heights, the slopes, the fields, and the rugied crest opposite, were enveloped in smoke and fire from the bursting shell. The sombre roar as- cended hke the bellowing of a thousand bulls, leaped back from the rocks, and rolled away, in wild echoes through the hills. All the furies seemed let loose, and yet this was only the preface. At four in the evening the thunder dropped to silence, and along the lines of Hood and McLaws, which formed the charging column, ran a wild cheer, which must have reached the ears of the enemy opposite. That eheer told both sides that the moment had come. The word was given, and Longstreet hurled his column at the blue line occupying a peach-orchard in his front. The blow was aimed straight at the salient in the Federal line, and in spite of a brave resistance it was swept away ; McLaws advancing rapidly toward the high ground in its rear. At one blow the whole left wing of General Meade's army seemed thrown into irretrievable confusion, and Hood pressing forward on McLaws's right, hastened to seize upon the famous Round Top, 86 MOllDN. from whicli lie would be able to hurl Lis thunder upon the flank and rear of the Federal lino of battle. The scene, like the conflict which now took place, was wild and singular. The crest of Round Top Hill was a mass of rock, which rose abruptly from the rough and jagged slope. It was unoccupied — for the sudden overthrow of the force in front of it had not been anticipated — and one headlong rusli on the part of Hood alone seemed necessary to give him possession of the real key of the whole position. Hood saw that at a glance, and dashed up the slope at the head of his men. It was scarcely an order of battle which his troops presented at this moment. But one thought burned in every heart. The men swarmed up the hill-side ; the woods gave back the rolling thunder of their cheers; already the Southern battle- flags carried by the foremost were fluttering on tlie crest. The mass rushed toward the red flags ; for an instant the gray figures were seen erect upon the summit — then a sudden crash of musketry resounded — and a mad struggle began with a Federal brigade which had hastened to the spot. This force, it is said, was hurried up by General Warren, who finding the Federal signal-officers about to retire, ordered them, to remain and continue waving their flags to the last; and then, seizing on the first brigade ho could find, rushed them up the slope to the crest. They arrived just in time. Hood's men were swarming on the crest. A loud cheer arose, but all at once they found themselves face to face with a line of bavonets, while beyond were seen con- fused and struggling masses, dragging up cannon. "What followed was a savage grapple rather than an ordinary conflict. Only a small part of Hood's force had reached the sum- mit, and this was assailed by a whole brigade. The fight was indescribable. All that the eye could make out for some mo- ments in the dust and smoke, was a confused mass of men clutch- ing each other, dealing blows witli the butt-ends of muskets, or fencing with bayonets — men in blue and gray, wrestling, cursing, falling, and dying, in the midst of the crash of small-arms, and the thunder of cannon, which clothed the crest in flame. When the smoke drifted, it was seen that the Confederates had CHARGE OF THE YIRGIXIAXS. 87 been repulsed, and driven from the hill. Hood was foiling back slowly, like a wounded tiger, who glares at tlie huntsman and defies him to the last. The sloi)e was strewed with some of his bravest. The Federal cannon roaring on Round Top Hill, seemed to be laughing hoarsely. McLaws, too, had fallen back after nearly seizing upon the crest in his front. The enemy had quickly re-enforced their left, with brigades, divisions, and corps, and the Confederates had been hotly assailed in their turn. As night descended, the whole Southern line fell back. The pallid moonlight shone on the up- turned faces of the innumer^able dead. Longstreet sat on a fence, cutting a stick with his penknife, when an English oiScer near him exclaimed : — "I would not have missed this for any thing?" Longstreet, laughed grimly. " I would like to have missed it very much I" * he said. XXVI. THE CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. Lee's great blow at the enemy's left had failed. He had thrown his entire right wing, under Longstreet, against it. The enemy had been driven ; victory seemed achieved ; — but suddenly the blue lines had rallied, they had returned to the struggle, their huge masses had rolled forward, thrown Longstreet back in turn, and now the pale moon looked down on the battle-field where some of the bravest souls of the South had poured out their blood in vain. Lee had accomplished nothing, and one of his great corps was panting and bleeding. It was not shattered or even shaken. The iron fibre would stand any thing almost. But the sombre result remained — Longstreet had attacked and had been repulsed. What course would Lee now pursue? Would he retire? * His words. 4* 88 MOHUN. Retire ? Tlie army of Northern Virginia lose heart at a mere rebuft"? Lee^s veteran annj give up the great invasion, after a mere repulse ? Troops and commander alike shrunk from the very thought. One more trial of arms — something — an attack somewhere — not a retreat ! That was the spirit of the army on the night of the second of July. A flanking movement to draw the enemy out of their works, or a second attack remained. Lee determined to attack. Longstreet and Ewell had accomplished nothing by assailing the right and left of the enemy. Lee resolved now to throw a column against its centre — to split the stubborn obstacle, and pour into the gap with the whole army, when all would be over. That was hazardous, you will say perhaps to-day, reader. And you have this immense argument to advance, that it failed. Ah ! these arguments after the event! they are so fatal, and so very easy. Right or wrong, Lee resolved to make the attack ; and on the third of Julv he carried out his resolution. If the writer of the South shrinks from describing the bloody repulse of Longstreet, much more gloomy is the task of painting that last charge at Gettysburg. It is one of those scenes which Lee's old soldiers approach with repugnance. That thunder of the guns which comes back to memory seems to issue, hollow and lugubrious, from a thousand tombs. Let us pass over that tragedy rapidly. It must be touched on in these memoirs — but I leave it soon. It is the third of July, 1863. Lee's line of battle, stretching along the crest of Seminary Ridge, awaits the signal for a new conflict with a carelessness as great as on the preceding day. The infantry are laughing, jesting, cooking their rations, and smoking their pipes. The ragged cannoneers, with flashing eyes, smiling lips, and faces blackened with powder, are standing in groups, or lying down around the pieces of artillery. Near the centre of the line a gray-headed officer, in plain uniform, and entirely un- attended, has dismounted, and is reconnoitring the Federal position through a pair of field-glasses. CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. 89 It is Lee, and he is looking toward Cemetery Heights, the Mount St. Jean of the new Waterloo — on whose slopes the immense conflict is going to be decided. Lee gazes for some moments through his glasses at the long range bristling with bayonets. Not a muscle moves ; he resem- bles a statue. Then he lowers the glasses, closes them thought- fully, and his calm glance passes along the lines of his arm}^ You would say that this glance penetrates the forest; that he sees his old soldiers, gay, unshrinking, unmoved by the reverses of Long- street, and believing in themselves and in him ! The blood of the soldier responds to that thought. The face of the great com- mander suddenly flushes. He summons a staflE* officer and utters a few words in calm and measured tones. The order is given. The grand assault is about to begin. That assault is going to be one of the most desperate in all his- tory. Longstreet's has been fierce — this will be mad and full of headlong fury. At Round Top blood flowed — here the earth is going to be soaked with it. Gettysburg is to witness a charge recalling that of the six hundred horsemen at Balaklava. Each soldier will feel that the fate of the South depends on him, per- haps. If the wedge splits the tough grain, cracking it from end to end, the axe will enter after it — the work will be finished — the red flag of the South will float in triumph over a last and decisive field. Pickett's division of Virginia troops has been selected for the hazardous venture, and they prepare for the ordeal in the midst of a profound silence. Since the morning scarce a gunshot has been heard. Now and then only, a single cannon, like a signal- gun, sends its growl through the hills. Those two tigers, the army of Northern Virginia and the array of the Potomac, are crouching, and about to spring. At one o'clock the moment seems to have arrived. Along the whole front of Hill and Longstreet, the Southern artillery all at once bursts forth. One hundred and fortv-five cannon send their threatening thunder across the peaceful valley. From Cemetery Heights eighty pieces reply to them ; and for more than an hour these two hundred and twenty-five cannon tear the air with their harsh roar, hurled back in crash after crash from the rocky ram- 90 MOIIU^r. parts. That tliiinder is the most terrible yet heard in the war. It stirs the coolest veterans. General Hancock, the composed and nnexcitable soldier, is going to say of it, "Their artillery firo was most terrific; ... it was the most terrific cannonade I ever witnessed, and the most prolonged. ... It was a most terrific and appalling cannonade, one possibly hardly ever equalleJ," For nearly two hours Lee continues this "terrific" fire. The Federal guns reply — shot and shell crossing each other; racing across the blue sky; battering the rocks; or bursting in showers of iron fragments. Suddenly the Federal fire slackens, and then ceases. Their ammunition has run low,* or they are silenced by the Southern fire. Lee's guns also c6ase firing. The hour has come. The Virginians, nnder Pickett, form in double line in the edge of the woods, wliere Lee's centre is posted. These men are rag- ged and travel-worn, but tlieir bayonets and gun-barrels shine like silver. From the steel hedge, as the men move, dart lightnings. From the Cemetery Heights the enemy watch that ominous apparition — the gray line of Virginians drawn up for the charge. At the word, they move out, shoulder to shoulder, at common time. Descending the slope, they enter on the valley, and move steadily toward the heights. The advance of the column, with its battle-flags floating proud- ly, and its ranks closed up and dressed with the precision of troops on parade, is a magnificent spectacle. Old soldiers, hard- ened in the fires of battle, and not given to emotion, lean forward watching the advance of the Virginians with fiery eyes. You would say, from the fierce clutch of the gaunt hands on the mus- kets, that they wish to follow ; and many wish that. The column is midway the valley, and beginning to move more rapidly, when suddenly the Federal artillery opens. The ranks are swept by round shot, shell, and canister. Bloody gaps ap- pear, but the line closes up, and continues to advance. The fire of the Federal artillery redoubles. All the demons of the pit seem howling, roaring, yelling, and screaming. The assaulting column is torn by a whirlwind of canister, before which men fall in heaps mangled, streaming with blood, their bosoms torn to * This wns the real reason. CHARGE OF THE VIRGINIANS. 91 pieces, their hands clutching the grass, their teeth biting the earth. The ranks, however, close up as before, and the Virgin- ians continue to advance. From common time, they have passed to quick time — now they march at tlie double-quick. That is to say, they run. They have reached the slope ; the enemy's breastworks are right before them ; and they dash at them with wild cheers. They are still three hundred yards from the Federal works, wlien the real conflict commences, to which the cannonade was but child's play. Artillery has thundered, but something more deadly succeeds it — the sudden crash of musketry. From behind a stone wall the Federal infantry rise up and pour a galling fire into the charging column. It has been accompanied to this mo- ment by a body of other troops, but those troops now disappear, like dry leaves swept off by the wind. Tlie Virginians still advance. Amid a concentrated fire of infantry and artillery, in their front and on both flanks, they pass over the ground between them- selves and the enemy ; ascend the slope ; rush headlong at the breastworks : storm them : strike their bavonets into the ene- ray, who recoil before them, and a wild cheer rises, making the blood leap in the veins of a hundred thousand men. The Federal works are carried, and the troops are wild with enthusiasm. "With a thunder of cheers they press upon the flying enemy toward the crest. Alas ! as the smoke drifts, they see what is enough to dis- liearten the bravest. They have stormed the first line of works only ! Beyond, is another and a stronger line still. Behind it swarm the heavy reserves of the enemy, ready for the death- struggle. But the column can not pause. It is " do or die." In their faces are thrust the muzzles of muskets spouting flame. "Whole ranks go down in the fire. The survivors close up, utter a fierce cheer, and rush straight at the second tier of works. Then is seen a spectacle which will long be remembered with a throb of the heart by many. The thinned ranks of the Virgin- ians are advancing, unmoved, into the very jaws of death. They go forward — and are annihilated. At every step death meets them. The furious fire of the enemy, on both flanks and in their 92 MOHUN. front, Imrls them back, mangled and dying. The brave Garnett is killed while leading on his men. Kemper is lying on the earth maimed for life. Armistoad is mortally wounded at the moment when he leaps upon the breastworks : — he waves his hat on the point of his sword, and staggers, and falls. Of fifteen tield offi- cers, fourteen have fallen. Three-fourths of the men are dead, wounded, or prisoners. The Federal infantry has closed in on the flanks and rear of the Virginians — whole corps assault the handful — the little band is enveloped, and cut off from succor — they turn and face the enemy, bayonet to bayonet, and die. When the smoke drifts away, all is seen to be over. It is a panting, staggering, bleeding remnant only of the brave division that is coming back so slowly yonder. They are swept from the fatal hill — pursued by yells, cheers, cannon-shot, musket-ball.«, and canister. As they doggedly retire before the howling hurri- cane, the wounded are seen to stagger and full. Over the dead and dying sweeps the canister. Amid volleys of musketry and the roar of cannon, all but a handful of Pickett's Virginians pass into eternity. 11. THE GREAT MOMENT OF A GREAT LIFE. I WAS gazing gloomily at the field covered with detachments limping back amid a great whirlwind of shell, when a mounted officer rode out of the smoke. In his right hand he carried his drawn sword — his left arm was thrown around a wounded boy whom he supported on the pommel of his saddle. In the cavalier I recognized General Daveuant, whom I had seen near the village of Paris, and who was now personally known to me. In the boy I recognized the urchin, Charley, with the braided jacket and jaunty cup. I spurred toward him. *'Your son — I" I said, and I pointed to the boy. THE GREAT MOMENT. 93 "He is dying I think, colonel!" was the reply in a hoarse voice. The gray mustache trembled, and the eye of the father rested, moist but fiery, on tlie boy. "Such a child!" I said. "Could he have gone into the charge ?" " I could not prevent him !" came, in a groan, almost from the old cavalier. " I forbade him, but he got a musket somewhere, and went over the breastworks with the rest. I saw him then for the first time, and heard him laugli and cheer. A moment afterward he was shot — 1 caught and raised him up, and I have ridden back through the fire, trying to shield him — but he is dying! Look! his wound is mortal, I think — and so young — a mere child — never was any one braver than my poor child — !" A groan followed the words : and bending down the old cava- lier kissed the pale cheek of the boy. I made no reply ; something seemed to choke me. Suddenly a grave voice uttered some words within a few paces of us, and I turned quickly. It was General Lee — riding calmly amid the smoke, and re-forming the stragglers. Never have I seen a human being more composed. General Davenant wheeled and saluted. " We are cut to pieces, general !" he said, with something like a fiery tear in his eye. "We did our best, and we drove them ! — but were not supported. My brigade — by brave old brigade is gone 1 This is my boy — I brought him out — but he is dying too!" The hoarse tones and fiery tears of the old cavalier made my heart beat. I could see a quick flush rise to the face of General Lee. He looked at the pale face of the boy, over which the dis- ordered curls fell, with a glance of inexpressible sympathy and sweetness. Then stretching out his hand, he pressed the hand of General Davenant, and said in his deep grave voice : — " This has been a sad day for us, general — a sad day, but we cannot expect always to gain victories. Never mind — all this has been my fault. It is / who have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way you can." * * His words. 94 MOHUN. As he uttered these measured words, General Lee sainted and disappeared in the smoke. General Davenant followecl, bearing the wounded boy still upon his saddle. Ten minutes afterward, I was riding to find General Stuart, who had sent me with a message just before tlie charge. I had gloomy news for him. The battle of Gettysburg was lost. XXVIll. UNSHAKEK The sun was sinking red and baleful, when I reached Stuart, beyond the left wing of the army. From the afternoon of the second to this night of the third of July, the cavalry had met tliat of the enemy in stubborn conflict. The columns had hurled together. General Hampton had been severely wounded in a hand-to-hand encounter with sabres, while leading his men. Stuart had narrowly escaped death or capture in the melee; and Fitz Lee had fought hilt to hilt witli the Fed- eral horsemen, repulsing them, and coming back laughing, as was his wont. All these scenes I have passed over, however. The greater drama absorbed me. The gray horsemen were fighting hero- ically ; but what was that encounter of sabres, when the fate of Gettysburg was being decided at Cemetery Hill? So I pass over all that, and hasten on now to the sequel. Memory finds few scenes to attract it in the days that followed Gettysburg. But I beg the reader to observe that I should have no scenes of a humiliating character to draw. Never was army less ''whipped" than that of Lee after this fight! Do you doubt that statement, reader? Do you think that the Southerners were a disordered rabble, flying before the Federal bayonets? a flock of panic-stricken sheep, hurrying back to the Potomac, with the bay of the Federal war-dogs in their ears ? UNSHAKEN". 95 That idea — entertained by a number of our Northern friends — is entirely fanciful. Lee's army was not even shaken. It was fagged, hungry, out of ammunition, and it retired, — but not until it had remained for twenty- four hours in line of battle in front of the enemy, per- fectly careless of, even inviting, attack. "I should have liked nothing better than to have been at- tacked," said Longstreet, " and have no doubt I should have given those who tried, as bad a reception as Pickett received." * It may be said that this is the boast of the defeated side. But General ^'sleade, when interrogated before the war committee, stated the exact facts. "My opinion is now," said Meade "that General Lee evac- uated that position, not from the fear that he would be dislodged from it by any active operations on ray part, but that he was fearful a force would be sent to Harper's Ferry to cut off his communications That was what caused him to retire." "Did you discover," asked one of the committee, " after tho battle of Gettysburg, any symptoms of demoralization in Lee's army?" "No, sir," was General Meade's reply, "I saw nothing of that kind." t That statement was just, and General Meade was too much of a gentleman and soldier to withhold it. He knew that his great adversary was still unshaken and dangerous — that the laurels snatched on Round Top and Cemetery Heights miglit turn to cypress, if the wounded lion were assailed in his own position. After the repulse of Pickett's column on the third of July, Lee had the choice of two courses — to either attack again or retire. Meade was evidently determined to remain on the defensive. To engage him, Lee must once more charge the Cemetery Heights. But a third failure migiit be ruinous ; the Confederate ammunition was nearly exliausted ; the communications with the Potomac were threatened, — and Lee determined to retire. That is the true history of the matter. * His woi-d3. t General Meade's testimony may l>e found in the Eeport on tlie Conduct of tho War. I'art I., p. 337. 96 MOIIUN". The force which fell back before Meade was an array of veter- ans, with unshaken nerves. It required only a glance to see that these men were still dangerous. They were ready to fight again, and many raged at the retreat. Like Lee's " old war horse," they were anxious to try another struggle, to have the enemy re- turn the compliment, and come over to charge theni ! Tlien commenced that singular retreat. The trains retired in a long line stretching over many miles, by the Chambersburg road, while the army marched by the shorter route, between the trains and the enemy, ready to turn and tear the blue huntsmen if they attempted to pursue. So the famous army of Northern Virginia — great in defeat as in victory — took its slow way back toward the soil of Virginia. Never was spectacle stranger than that retreat from Gettysburg. The b£ylly wounded had been sent with the army trains; but many insisted upon keeping their places in the ranks. There was something grim and terrible in these bandaged arms, and faces, and forms of Lee's old soldiers — but you did not think of that as you looked into their pale faces. "What struck you in those eyes and lips was the fire, and the smile of an unconquer- al)le courage. Never had I witnessed resolution more splendid and invincible. In the ragged foot soldiers of the old army I could see plainly the evidences of a nerve which no peril could sliake. Was it race — or the cause — or confidence, through all, in Lee ? I know not, but it was there. These men were utterly careless whether the enemy followed them or not. They were retreating unsubdued. The terrible scenes through which they had passed, the sights of horror, the ghastly wounds, the blood, agony, death of the last few days had passed away from their memories ; and they went along with supreme indilference, ready to fight at any moment, and certain that they could whip any enemy who assailed them. General Meade did not attempt that. He kept Lee at arm's- length, and followed so slowly that the civilians were in enor- mous wrath, and looked de haut en has on him — on this timid soldier who had not cut Lee to pieces. Between Meade, however, and the bold civilians, there was this enormous difference. The soldier knew the mettle of the man UNSHAKEN. 97 and tbe array retiring from Gettysburg. The civilians did not. Meade retained tlie fruits of his victory over Lee. The civilians would have lost them. At Williamsport, Lee halted and drew up his army in line of battle. The Potomac, swollen by rains, presented an impassable obstacle. Meade, following slowly, was met at every step by Stuart's cavalry ; but finally faced his adversary. Every thing presaged a great battle, and Lee's cannon from the hills south of Hagerstown laughed, "Come on!" But General Meade did not come. Lee, standing at bay with the army of Northern Virginia, was a formidable adversary, and the Federal commander had little desire to charge the Confeder- ates as they had charged him at Gettysburg— in position. Day after day the adversaries remained in line of battle facing each other. Lee neither invited nor declined battle. At last the Potomac subsided : Lee put his army in motion, and crossing on a pontoon at Falling Waters took up his position on the south bank of the river. Stuart followed, bringing up the rear with his cavalry column; and the whole army was once more on the soil of Virginia. They had come back after a great march and a great battle. The march carried their flags to the south bank of the Sus- quehanna; the battle resulted in their retreat to the south bank of the Potomac. Thus nothing had been gained, and nothing lost. But alas ! the South had counted on a great and decisive victory. When Lee failed to snatch that from the bloody heights of Gettysburg — when, for want of ammunition, and to guard his communications, he returned to the Potomac— then the people began to lose heart, and say that, since the death of Jackson, the cause was lo^t. Gettysburg in fact is the turning point of the struggle. From that day dated the decadence of the Southern arms. At Chancellorsville, the ascending steps of victory culminated — and stopped. 98 MOHUN. At Gettysburg, the steps began to descend into the valley of defeat, and the shadow of death. What I shall show the reader in this final series of my mem- oirs, is Lee and liis paladins — officers and privates of the old army of Northern Virginia — figliting on to the end, true in defeat as in victory, in the dark days as in the bright — closing up the thin ranks, and standing by the colors to the last. That picture may be gloomy — but it will be sublime, too. UNDEPw "STUART'S OAK." 99 BOOK II. THE FLOWEE OF CAVALIEES I. UJs-DER "STUART'S OAK" Crossing to the south bank of the Potomac, Stuart established bis head-quarters at " The Bower," an old mansion on the Opequon. The family at the ancient hall were Stuart's cherished friends, and our appearance now, with the red flag floating and the bugle sounding a gay salute as we ascended the hill, was hailed with enthusiasm and rejoicing. All at the "Bower," loved Stuart; they love him to-day; and will love him alwavs. His tents were pitched on a grassy knoll in the extensive grounds, beneath some ancient oaks resembling those seen in English parks. It was a charming spot. Through the openings in the summer foliage you saw the old walls of the hall. At the foot of the hill, the Opequon stole away, around the base of a fir- clad precipice, its right bank lined with immense white-armed sycamores. Beyond, extended a range of hills : and in the far west, the Xorth Mountain mingled its azure billows with the blue of the summer skv. Such was the beautiful landscape which greeted our eyes : such the spot to which the winds of war had wafted us. Good old "Bower," and good days there ! How well I remember you ! After the long, hard march, and the incessant fighting, it was charming to settle down for a brief space in this paradise — to listen idly to the murmur of the Opequon, or the voice of the summer winds amid the foliage of the century oaks ! 100 MOHUN. The great tree on the grassy knoll, under which Staart erected his own tent, is called "Stuart's Oak " to this day. Ko axe will ever harm it, I hope; gold could not purchase it; for tender liearts cherish the gnarled trunk and liuge boughs, as a souvenir of the great soldier whom it slieltered in that summer of 1863. So we were anchored for a little space, and enjoyed keenly the repose of this summer nook on the Opequon. Soon the bugle would sound again, and new storms would buffet us; meanwhile, we laughed and sang, snatching the bloom of the peaceful hours, inhahng the odors, listening to the birds, and idly dreaming. For myself, I had more dreams than the rest of the gray people there ! The Bower was not a strange place to me. My brethren of the statf used to laugh, and say that, wherever we went, in Vir- ginia, I found kins-people. I found near and dear ones at the old house on the Opequon ; and a hundred spots which recalled my lost youth. Every object carried me back to the days that are dead. The blue Ijills, the stream, the great oaks, and the hall smiled on me. How familiar the portraits, and wide fireplaces, and decrs' antlers. The pictures of hawking scenes, with ladies and gentlemen in the queerest costumes; the engravings of famous race-horses, hanging between guns, bird-bags and fishing- rods in the wide hall — these were not mere dead objects, but old and long-loved acquaintances. I had known them in my child- hood ; looked with delight upon them in my boyhood ; now they seemed to salute me, murmuring — '' Welcome ! you remember us!" Thus the hall, the grounds, the pictures, the most trifling ob- ject brought back to me, in that summer of 1863, a hundred memories of the years that had flown. Years of childhood and youth, of mirth and joy, such as we felt before war had come to liarassus; when I swam in the Opequon, or roamed the hills, looking into bright eyes, where life was so fresh and so young. The ''dew was on the blossom" tjjen, the flower in the bud. Now the bloom had passed away, and the dew dried up in the hot war-atmosphere. It was a worn and weary soldier who came back to the scenes of his vouth. Suddenly, as I mused thus, dreaming idly under the great oak which sheltered me, I heard a voice from Stuart's tent, sending UNDER "STUART'S OAK." 101 its sonorous music on the air. It was the great cavalier singing lustilv — "The dew is on the blossom I" At all hours of the day you could hear that gay voice. Stuart's head-quarters were full of tlie most mirthful sounds and sights. The knoll was alive with picturesque forms. The horses, tethered to the boughs, champed their bits and pawed impatiently. The bright saddle-blankets shone under the saddles covered with gay decorations. Young officers with clanking sabres and rattling spurs moved to and fro. In front of the head-quarters tent the red battle-flag caught the sunshine in its dazzling folds. Suddenly, a new charm is added to the picturesque scene. Maiden figures advance over the grassy lawn ; bright eyes glim- mer ; glossy ringlets are lifted by the fingers of the wind ; tinkling laughter is heard ;— and over all rings the wild sonorous music of the bugle ! The days pass rapidly thus. The nights bring merriment, not sleep. The general goes with his stafif to the hospitable mansion, and soon the great drawing-room is full of music and laughter. The song, the dance, the rattling banjo follow. The long hours flit by like a flock of summer birds, and Sweeney, our old friend Sweeney, is the king of the revel. For Sweeney rattles as before on his banjo; and the "Old Gray Horse " flourishes still in imperishable youth ! It is the same old Sweeney, with his mild and deferential courtesy, his obliging smile, his unapproachable skill in "picking on the string." List- en! his voice rings again as in the days of '61 and '62. He is singing still "Oh Johnny Booker, help this nigger!" " Stephen, come back, come back, Stephen !" " Out of the window I did sail !" "Sweet Evelina," and the grand, magnificent epic which advises you to " Jine the Cavalry!" Hagan listens to him yonder with a twinkle of the eye — Hagan the black-bearded giant, the brave whose voice resembles thun- der, the devotee and factotum of Stuart, whom he loves. And Sweeney rattles on. You laugh loud as you listen. The banjo laughs louder than all, and the great apartment is full of uproar, and mirth, and dance. Then the couples sink back exhausted; a deep silence follows; 102 MOnUN. Sweeney has made you laugh, and is now going to make you sigli. Listen ! You can scarcely believe that the singer is the same person who has just been rattling through the " Old Gray Horse." Sweeney is no longer mirthful; his voice sighs instead of laughing. He is singing his tender and exquisite " Faded Flowers." He is telling you in tones as soft as the sigh of the wind in the great oaks, how "The cold, chilly winds of December, Stole my flowers, my companions from me !" Alas ! the cold, chilly winds of the coming winter will blow over the grave of the prince of musicians ! Sweeney, the pride and charm of the cavalry head-quarters, is going to pass away, and leave his comrades and his banjo forever! You would say that the future throws its shadow on the present. Sweeney's tones are so sweet and sorrowful, that many eyes grow moist — like Rubini, he "has tears in his voice." The melting strains ascend and sigh through the old hall. When they die away like a wind in the distance, the company remuin silent, plunged in sad and dreamy revery. Suddenly Stuart starts up and exclaims : — "Stop that, Sweeney! you will make everybody die of the blues. Sing the ' Old Gray Horse ' again, or ' Jine the Cav- alry!'" Sweeney smiles and obeys. Then, the gay song ended, he com- mences a reel. The banjo laughs ; his flying fingers race over the strings ; youths and maidens whirl from end to end of the great room — on the walls the "old people" in ruffles and short- Avaisted dresses, look down smiling on their little descendants! O gay summer nights on the banks of the Opequon ! you have flown, but linger still in memory ! In the autumn of 1867, I revisited the old hall where tliose summer days of 1863 had passed in mirth and enjoyment; and then I wandered away to the grassy knoll w^here " Stuart's oak" still stands. The sight of the great tree brought back a whole world of memories. Seated on one of its huge roots, beneath the dome of foliage just touched by the finger of autumn, I BACK TO THE RAPIDAX. 103 seemed to see all the past rise up again and move before me, with its gallant figures, its bright scenes, and brighter ej^es. Alas ! those days were dust, and Stuart sang and laughed no more. The grass was green again, and the birds were singing ; but no mar- tial forms moved there, no battle-flag rippled, no voice was heard. Stuart was dead ; — his sword rusting under the dry leaves of Hollywood, and his battle-flag was furled forever. That hour under the old oak, in the autumn of 1867, was one of the saddest that I have ever spent. The hall was there as before ; the clouds floated, the stream murmured, the wind sighed in the great tree, as when Stuart's tent shone under it. But the splendor had vanished, the laugh- ter was hushed — it was a company of ghosts that gathered around me, and their faint voices sounded from another world ! 11. BACK TO THE RAPIDAX. But this is a book of incident, worthy reader. 'We have little time for musing recollections. The halts are brief; the bugle is sounding to horse; events drag us, and we ace again in the saddle. Those gay hours on the Opequan were too agreeable to last. The old hall was a sort of oasis in the desert of war only. We paused for an instant ; rested under the green trees ; heard the murmur of the waters — then the caravan moved, breasting the arid wastes once more, and the coming simoom. Stuart's head-quarters disappeared — we bade our kind friends good-bye — and, mounting, set out for the Lowland, whither Lee's column was then marching. The short lull had been succeeded by new activity. Meade was advancing along the east slope of the Blue Ridge to cut Lee off from Richmond. But the adventure succeeded no better now than in 1862. Meade failed, as McClellan had failed before him. The army passed the Blue Ridge; drove back the force sent to 5 104 MOHUN. assail them in flank as they moved; and descended to Culpepor, from which they withdrew behind tlie Rapidan. Here Lee took up his position, crowned the soutli bank with liis artillery, and, facing General Meade, occupying the north bank, rested. Such had been the result of the great campaign, in its merely iiiilitary aspect. Lee had invaded the North, delivered battle on the territory of the enemy, suffered a repulse, retired, and was again occupy- ing nearly the same ground which he had occupied before the advance. Moving backward and forward on the great chessboard of war, the two adversaries seemed to have gained or lost noth- ing. The one was not flushed with victory ; the other was not prostrated by defeat. Each went into camp, ceased active oper- ations, and prepared for the new conflict which was to take place before the end of the year. I shall record some incidents of that rapid and shifting cam- paign, beginning and ending in the month of October; then I pass on to the more important and exciting pages of my memoirs : the miglity struggle between Lee and Grant. To return for a moment to the cavalry. It held the front along the Rapidan and Robertson rivers, from Madison Court- House on the left, to Chancellorsville on the right. Stuart kept his lynx-eye on all the fords of the two rivers, having his head- quarters in the forks of the streams not far from their junction. T should like to speak of the charming hours spent at the hos- pitable mansion near whicb head-quarters had been established The sun shone bright, at the house on the grassy hill, but not so bright as the eyes which gave us friendly welcome. Years have passed since that time — all things have changed — but neither time or the new scenes will banish from some hearts the memory of that beautiful face, and the music of that voice! We salute to-day as we saluted in the past — health and happiness attend the fair face and the kindly heart ! I saw much of Mohun in those days, and became in course of time almost his intimate friend. He exhibited still a marked re- serve on the subject of his past life : but I thought I could see that the ice was melting. Day by day he grew gayer — gradually his cj*nicism seemed leaving him. Who was this singular man. THE OPEXING OF THE HUXT. 105 and what was his past history ? I often asked myself these questions — he persisted in giving me no clue to the secret — but I felt a presentiment that some day I should " pluck out the heart of his mystery." So much, in passing, for my relations with Mohun. We had begun to be friends, and the chance of war was going to throw us together often. I had caught one or two glimpses of a past full of '' strange matters " — in the hours that were coming I was to have every mystery revealed. Meanwhile Lee was resting, but preparing for another blow. His army was in the highest spirits. The camps buzzed, and laughed, and were full of mirth. Gettysburg was forgotten, or if remembei'ed, it only served to inflame the troops, and inspire them with a passionate desire to "try again." In the blaze of a new victory, the old defeat would disappear. Such was the condition of things in the army of Xortheru Virginia in the first days of October, 1863. III. THE OPEXIXG OF THE HUXT. It soon became obvious that Lee had resolved to strike a blow at his adversary. How to do so with advantage seemed a hard problem. Be- tween the opponents lay the Rapidan, which would be an ugly obstacle in the path of an army retreating after defeat — and the same considerations which deterred General Aleade from attack- ing Lee, operated to prevent a like movement on the part of his adversary. Thus an advance of the Southern army on the enemy's front was far too hazardous to be thought of — and the only course left was to assail their flank. This could either be done by cross- ing lower down, and cutting the enemy ofi" from the Rappahan- nock, or crossing higher uj^, and cutting him oflf from Manassas. 106 MOHUN. Lee determinecl on the latter— and in a bright morning early in October the great movement began. Leaving Fitz Lee's cavalry and a small force of infantry in the works on the Rapidan fronting the enemy, General Lee put his columns in motion for the upper fords. The men hailed the movement ^vith cheers of delight. As they wound along, with glittering bayonets, through the hills and across the river, you could easily see that the old army of Northern Virginia was still in full feather — that Gettysburg iiad not shaken it — and that Lee could count on it for new campaign.s and harder combats than any in the past. The head of the column was directed toward Madison Court- Ilouse, which would enable Lee either to advance directly upon the enemy's flank by the Sperryville road, or continue his flank movement, pass the Rappahannock, and cut off his opponent from "Washington. The advance was an inspiring spectacle. The weather was magnificent, and the crimson foliage of the wood rivalled the tints of the red battle-flags, fluttering above the long glittering hedge of bayonets. Stuart's cavalry had moved out on the right flank to protect the column from the observation of the enemy. The campaign of October, 1863, had opened. It was to be one of the briefest, but most adventurous move- ments of the war. Deciding little, it was yet rich in incident and dramatic scenes. A brilliant comedy, as it were — just tinged with tragedy — was that rapid and shifting raid of Lee's whole army, on Meade. Blood, jests, laughter, mourning — these were strangely mingled, in the cavalry movements at least : and to these I proceed. From the heights, whence you see only the "great events,'* the movements of armies, and the decisive battles, let us now descend into the lowland, good reader. I will lay before you» some incidents, not to be found in the "official reports;" and I promise to carry you on rapidly ! THE GAME A-FOOT. 107 lY. THE GAME A-FOOT. It was a magnificent morning of October. Stuart leaped to saddle, and, preceded by his red flag rippling gayly in the wind, set out from his head-quarters in the direction of the mountains. He was entering on his last great cavalry campaign — and it was to be one of his most successful and splendid. The great soldier, as he advanced that morning, was the beau ideal of a cavalier. His black plume floated proudly ; his sabre rattled; his eyes danced with joy; his huge mustache curled with laughter ; his voice was gay, sonorous, full of enjoyment of life, health, the grand autumn, and the adventurous and splendid scenes which his imagination painted. On his brow he seemed already to feel the breath of victory. It was rather an immense war-machine, than a man which I looked at on that morning of October, 1863. Grand physical health, a perfectly fearless soul, the keenest thirst for action, a stubborn dasli which nothing could break down — all this could be seen in the face and form of Stuart, as he advanced to take command of his column that day. On the next morning at daylight he had struck the enemy. Their outposts of cavalry, supported by infantry, were at Thoroughfare Mountain, a small range above the little village of James City. Here Stuart came suddenly upon them, and drove in their pickets : — a moment afterward he was galloping forward with the gavetv of a huntsman after a fox. A courier came to meet him from the advance guard, riding at full gallop. " Well ! " said Stuart. '' A regiment of infantry, general." "Where?" " Yonder in the gap." And he pointed to a gorge in the little mountain before us. Stuart wheeled and beckoned to Gordon, the brave North 108 MOHUN. Carolinian, who had made the stubborn charge at Barbee's, in 18G2, when Pelham was attacked, front and rear, by tlie Federal cavalry. " We have flushed a regiment of infantry, Gordon. Can you break them ?" *' I think I can, general. " The handsome face of the soldier glowed — his bright eyes flashed. " All right. Get ready, then, to attack in front. I will take Young, and strike them a^ the same moment on the right flank!" "With which words Stuart went at a gallop and joined Young. That gay and gallant Georgian was at the head of his column ; in his sparkling eyes, and the smile which showed the white teeth under the black mustache, I saw the same expression of reckless courage which I had noticed on the day of Fleetwood, when the young Georgian broke the column on the hill. Stuart explained his design in three words: — " Are you ready?" "All ready, general!" And Young's sabre flashed from the scabbard. At the same instant the crash of carbines in front, indicated Gordon's charge. Young darted to the head of his column. "Charge!" he shouted. And leading the column, he descended like a thunderbolt on the enemy's flank. As he did so, Gordon's men rushed with wild cheers into the gorge. Shouts, carbine-shots, musket-shots, yells resounded. In five minutes the Federal infantry, some three hundred in num- ber, were scattered in headlong flight, leaving the ground strewed with new muskets, whose barrels shone like burnished silver. " Good !" Stuart exclaimed, as long lines of prisoners appeared, going to the rear, " a fair beginning, at least !" And he rode on rapidly. ( THE OHASE. 109 V. THE CHASE. The cavalry pressed forward without halting and reached the hills ahove James City — a magniloquent name, but the " city " was a small affair — a mere village nestling down amid an amphi theatre of hills. On the opposite range we saw the enemy's cavalry drawn up •, and, as we afterward learned, commanded by General Kilpat- rick. They presented a handsome spectacle in the gay autumn sun- shine ; but we did not attack them. Stuart's orders were to pro- tect the march of Ewell from observation; and this he accom- plished by simply holding the Federal cavalry at arm's-length. So a demonstration only was made. Skirmishers advanced, and engaged the enemy. The whole day thus passed in apparent failure to drive the Federals. A single incident marked the day. Stuart had taken his posi- tion, with his staff and couriers, on a hill. Here, with his battle- flag floating, he watcl.ied the skirmishers, — and then gradually, the whole party, stretched on the grass, began to doze. They were to have a rude waking. I was lying, holding my bridle, half asleep, when an earthquake seemed to open beneath me. A crasli like thunder accompanied it. I rose quickly, cov- ered with dust. A glance explained the whole. The enemy had directed a gun upon the tempting group over which the flag rose, and the percussion-shell had fallen and burst in oui- midst. Strangest of all, no one was hurt. Stuart laughed, and mounted his horse. "A good shot!" he said, " look at Surry's hat!" which, on examination, I found covered half an inch deep with earth. In fact, the shell had burst within three feet of my head — was a "line shot," and with a little more elevation, would have just reached me. Then, exit Surry ! in a most unmilitary manner, by the bursting of a percussion-shell. At nightfall the enemy was still in position, and Stuart had not advanced. 110 MOHUN. We spent the night at a farm-house, and were in the saddle again at dav\n. The hills opposite were deserted. The enemy had retreated. Stuart pushed on their track down the Sperryville road, passed tiie village of Griffinshurg, and near Stonehouse Mountain came on, and pushed them rapidly back on Culpeper Court-Ilouse. All at once quick firing was heard on our right. " What is that ? " Stuart asked. ''An infentry regiment, general!" said Weller, one of our couriers, galloping quickly up. The words acted upon Stuart like the blow of a sword. A wild excitement seemed to seize hira. "Bring up a squadron!" he shouted — for we were riding ahead without support ; " bring up the cavalry ! I am going to charge I Bring me a squadron !" And drawing his sword, Stuart rushed at full gallop, alone and unattended, toward the Federal infantry, whose gun-barrels were seen glittering in the woods. Never had I seen him more excited. He was plainly on fire with the idea of capturing the whole party. The staff scattered to summon the cavalry, and soon a com- pany came on at full gallop. It was the '* Jeflferson Company," under that brave oflScer, Captain George Baylor. " Charge, and cut them down!" shouted Stuart, his drawn sword flashing as he forced his horse over fallen trees and the debris of the great deserted camp. A fine spectacle followed. As the Federal infantry double- quicked up a slope, Baylor charged. As his men darted upon them, they suddenly halted, came to a front-face, and the long line of gun-barrels fell, as though they were parts of some glittering war-machine. The muzzles spouted flame, and the cavalry received the fire at thirty yards. It seemed to check them, but it did not. They had come to an impassable ditch. In another moment, the infantry broke, every man for himself, and making a detour, the cavalry pursued, and captured large numbers. For the second time Stuart had charged infantry and broken THE CHASE. Ill them. Pushing on now through the great deserted camps of Stonehouse Mountain, he descended upon Culpeper. The enemy's cavalry retreated, made a stand on the hills beyond, with their artillery; and seemed to have resolved to retreat no farther. Suddenly the thunder of artillery came up from the Rapidan. I was sitting ray horse near Stuart and Gordon. They were both laughing — indeed, Stuart seemed laughing throughout the cam- paign. "That is Fitz Lee!" he said; "he has crossed and driven them." And turning round, — " I wish you would go to General Lee, Surry — you will find him toward Griffinsburg — and tell him we are driving the enemy, and Fitz Lee seems to be coming up." I saluted, and left the two generals laughing as before. In half an hour I had found General Lee. He was in camp on the Sperryville road, and was talking to Ewell. It was a singular contrast. Lee, robust, ruddy, erect, with his large frank eye — Ewell, slight, emaciated, pale, with small pier- cing eyes, and limping on his crutch. "Thank you, colonel," General Lee said, with his grave but charming courtesy ; " tell General Stuart to continue to press them back toward the river." And turning to Ewell : — "You had better move on with your command, general," he said, in his measured voice. Ewell bowed and turned to obev — I returned to Stuart. He was pushing the Federal cavalry " from pillar to post." Driven back from the hill, where they had planted their artil- lerv, thev had retreated on Brandv ; Stuart had followed like a fate ; Gordon, sent round to the left, struck their right flank with his old sabreurs ; Fitz Lee, coming up on the right, thun- dered down on their left — and in the woods around Brandy took place one of those cavalry combats which, as my friends, the novelists say, "must be seen to be appreciated I" If the reader will imagine, in the dusk of evening, a grand hurly-burly made up of smoke, dust, blood, yells, clashing swords, banging car- 5* 112 MOHUX. bines, thundering cannon, and wild cheers, he will have a feint idea of that "little affair" at Brandy. A queer circumstance made this fight irresistibly comic. Fitz Lee had repulsed Buford on the Rapidan ; followed him on his retreat, harassing him at every step — when, just as Bu- ford reached Brandy, with Fitz Lee at his heels, Kilpatrick de- scended on Fitz Lee's rear by the Sperryville road, and Stuart thundered down on 7iis/ Thus Fitz Lee was pursuing Buford ; Kilpatrick, Fitz Lee ; and Stuart, Kilpatrick ! It was a grand and comic jumble — except that it came very near being any thing but comic to that joyous cavalier, " General Fitz," as we called liim — caught as he was between Generals Buford and Kilpatrick ! General Fitz was the man for a ''tight place," however — and '• liis people," as he called his cavalry, soon cut through to Stuart. It was a tough and heavy fight. " Old Jeb cut ofiT more than he could cTiaw, that time!" said a veteran afterward, in describing the fight. And at one time it seemed that the enemy were going to hold their ground. Fleetwood, beyond, was lined with bayonets, and every knoll was crowned with cannon: when night fell, however, the whole force had retreated and crossed the Rappahannock, leaving the ground strewed with their dead and wounded. In the dusky woods near Brandy, Stuart sat his horse, looking toward the Rappahannock, and laughing still. He was talking with brave Fitz Lee, whose stout figure, flowing beard, and eyes twin- kling with humor, were plain in the starlight. I shall show you that gallant figure more than once in this volume, reader. You had but to look at him to see that he was the bravest of soldiers, and the best of comrades. So night fell on a victory. Stuart had driven the enOmy at every step. He liad charged their infantry, cavalry, and artillery, routing all, — and he was once more in sight of Fleetwood Hill, where he had defeated them in the preceding June. Singular current of war! It used to bear us onward; but be taken with a sudden fancy to flow back to the old spots! See Manassas, Fredericksburg, Cold Harbor, Chancellorsville! Fleetwood takes its place with them — twice bloody and memo- THE RUSE. 1J3 rable. In sight of it took place two of Stuart's liarJest combats — and both were victories. VI. THE EUSE. By sunrise Stuart was pushing rapidlj up the bank of the Rap- pahannock toward "W^arrenton Sj)rings. Meade had retreated from Culpeper, and was falling back rapidlj. Lee was pressing on to cut him off in the vicinity of Auburn. A hot fight took place at Jeffersonton, a little village beyond Hazel River ; and here the enemy fought from house to house, but finally retreated. Stuart followed, and came up with their rear retreating over the bridge at "Warrenton Springs. On the northern bank the Federal sharp-shooters were posted in double line. Stuart turned, and saw, not far from him, the Jefferson Com- pany who had charged so gallantly at Stonehouse Mountain. A movement of his hand, and they were charging over the bridge. Suddenly they recoiled. The head files had stopped, — -the horses rearing. The flooring in the centre of the bridge had been torn up — it was impossible to cross. The men wheeled and came back under a hot fire of sharp- shooters. Stuart's face was fiery. "To the ford!" he shouted. And placing himself in front of the men, sword in hand, he led them through the ford, in face of a heavy fire, charged up the opposite slope, and the Federal skirmishers scattered in wild flight. The Twelfth Virginia Cavalry followed them, and they were cut dow^n or captured. 114: MOHDN. As the column moved on, Stuart galloped along the line toward the front. He had just faced death with these men, and at sight of him they raised a cheer. "Hurrah for old Jebl" rose in a shout from the column. Stuart turned : his face glowed : rising in his stirrups, he took off his hat and exclaimed: — " Bully for the old Twelfth !" The words were unclassic, it may be, reader, but they raised a storm. " I felt like I could die for old Jeb after that," one of the men said to me. Stuart disappeared, followed by tumultuous clieers^and his col- umn continued to advance upon Warrenton ahead of the army. He had ridden on for a quarter of an hour, when he turned to nie, and said : — " I am getting uneasy about things at Culpeper. I wish you would ride back to Rosser, who is there with two hundred men, and tell him to call on Young, if he is pushed." I turned my horse. "You know where Young is?" " On the Sperryville road." " Exactly — Rosser can count on him. I am going on toward Warrenton." And the general and myself parted, riding in opposite direc- tions. I returned toward Hazel River; passed that stream, and the long rows of army wagons ; and as the sun was sinking, drew near Culpeper. As I pressed on, I heard the long thunder of cannon coming up from the direction of Brandy. What could that sound mean ? Had the enemy again advanced and assailed the small force of cavalry there"? Going on now at full speed, I heard the cannon steadily ap proaching Culpeper Court-House. All at once, as I drew near the village, I heard a tremendous clatter in the streets ; a column of cavalry was advancing to the front — soon tlie crack of carbine:? was heard bevond the town. THE RUSE. 115 A short ride brought me to the field, and all was explained. Colonel Rosser had been attacked by a whole corps of Federal infantry, and two divisions of cavalry — while his own force was about two hundred men, and a single gun. He had offered an obstinate resistance, however, fallen back slowly, and when about to be driven into the town, Young had come to his aid. Then followed one of the gayest comedies of the war. Young was the author of it. You laugh sometimes still, do you not, old comrade, at the trick you played our friends on that October evening ? Young threw himself into the fight with the true cavalry elan. Dismounting his whole brigade, he opened a rapid fire on the advancing enemy; and this obstinate resistance evidently pro- duced a marked effect upon their imaginations. They had been advancing — they now paused. They had been full of audacity, and now seemed fearful of some trap. It was evident that they suspected the presence of a heavy force of infantry — and night having descended, they halted. This was the signal for the fifth act of the comedy. Young kindled camp-fires along two miles of front ; brought up his brass band and played " The Bonnie Blue Flag," and '^ Dixie." It was obvious to the enemy that at least a corps of Lee's infantry was there in their front, ready to renew the action at dawn ! The finale was comic — I shared the blankets of the gallant Georgian that night — when we rose the enemy's whole force had disappeared. Such had been the result of the ruse, and I always regarded the affair as one of the gayest incidents of the war. "When I left the brave Young, he was laughing in triumph. If your eye meets this page, old comrade, it may give you an- other laugh — and laughter is something in this dull epocli, is it not? But whether you laugh or sigh, and wherever you may be, health and happiness attend you! In the afternoon, I was at Warrenton. 116 MOHUN. VII. STUART CAUGHT IX THE TRAP. I FOUND the general moving toward Auburn, on a reconnois- pance. Meade had been delayed ranch by uncertainty as to his adver- sary's designs— had scarcely advanced beyond the Rappahan- nock — and the object of Stuart was to discover his position and intentions. That was the work always assigned to the "Eyes and Ears" of the army — Stuart's cavalry ; and the stout cavalier, now at the head of his column, was on for the railroad, along which the ene- my must retreat. Another comedy was to follow — which came near being a tragedy. Stuart steadily advanced, and about sunset had passed Auburn, when, as he was riding at the head of his column, a messenger rode up hastily from Gordon, holding the rear. "Weill" said Stuart. " The enemy are in your rear, general !" "Impossible!" " General Gordon sent me to say so." Stuart turned and galloped back. Gordon came to meet him. "The Yankee array are in our rear, general," said Gordon. " Come, and I will show you." And riding to an eminence he pointed out across the fields, in the gathering gloom, long lines of infantry and artillery moving toward Manassas. Stuart gazed at them keenly. As he sat looking toward them, j9i staff officer from the front came up rapidly. "Well, captain!" " The enemy are in front, general." "Infantry?" " Yes. with artillery." Stuart looked at Gordon. STUART CAUGHT IX THE TRAP. 117 " A real trap," he said coollj, knitting his brows. "Have thev seen von, Gordon?" he asked. "I think not, general." " TTell, so far all is well. Tliere is nothing to do but to lay low, and take the chances of getting out." Stuart's voice was never cooler. He looked quietly at the huge column cutting off liis retreat. "A splendid chance to attack them!" he all at once exclaimed. And tearing a leaf out of his dispatch-book, he wrote a hasty note to General Lee. I afterward knew wliat it contained. Stnart described liis situation, and proposed that Rodes, then near Warrenton, should attack at dawn — when lie would open with his artillerv. charge with his horsemen, and cut his wav out. "A'good man in blue uniform now, Gordon." Gordon sent off an aid, and the man soon appeared. From top to toe he was of irreproachable blue ; and he listened keenly to his instructions. Five minutes afterward he had dismounted, given his horse to a comrade, and was stealing on foot through the thicket toward the Federal column. A moment afterward he had mingled with their column and disappeared. Other messengers, also in Federal uniform, were dispatched : the whole force of cavalrv was massed, and concealed in the V 7 woods : then darkness descended ; and the long night of anxiety began. The situation was not agreeable. Stuart was caught in a ver- itable trap. On both sides — in his rear and his front — were pass- ing heavy corps of Federal infantry; their numerous artillery; and their long-drawn columns of cavalrv. Discoverv was destruc- tion ; the only hope was that the enemy would not suspect our proximity. If we were once known to be lurking there, good-bye to Stuart and his men ! So the long night commenced. The hours passed on, and still we were not discovered. It seemed miraculous that some noise did not betray Stuart's hiding-place ; but an Unseen Eye seemed to watch over him, and an Unseen Hand to guard him. More than once the neisrh of a horse rang out on tiie air of night ; and two or three times the discordant bray of a mule at- US , MOHUN". taclicd to the artillery startled the silence of the woods. But these sounds were unheeded. They evidently attracted no attention from the eneinv. Leaning down in their saddles, the men, half overcome by sleep, but afraid of a rough waking, passed sleepless hours, looking fur the dawn. Stuart was never cooler. On his horse, at the head of his men, he betrayed no emotion. You would not have known, except for Ills subdued tones when speaking to some one, that he. and his command were in a veritable "tiglit place." Cool and resolnte, he was equal to any event. Certain capture or destruction of his whole force was imminent. Thus the night glided "away. AVe had not been discovered. Over the trees was seen the yellow streak of dawn. I looked round. The men's faces were haggard from want of sleep. But they evidently felt perfect confidence in Stuart. He hastened to justify it. ISo sooner had light come than he placed his artillery in posi- tion. As it grew and broadened, the enemy were seen just on a hill in front of us, busily cooking their breakfasts. Suddenly a single cannon sent its long thunder, dull and rever- berating, through the woods, from the direction of Warrenton. . Stuart rose erect in his saddle, and looked in the direction of the sound, his eyes glowing. Another followed ; then another ; then a long, continuous bel- low of artillery, making the hills echo. There was no longer any doubt about the fate of the messen- gers. Lee had received the dispatches; Rodes had opened on the Federal columns, attacking as that good soldier knew how" to attack. Stuart darted to his guns. On his countenance was a grim smile. '•' Attention I" he exclaimed. The cannoneers ran to their posts, a cheer rose, the next in- stant the guns spouted flame ; shell after shell in rapid succession screamed through the woods — and bursting in the midst of tiie blue groups, threw them into the wildest disorder. Stuart did not allow the panic to subside. His sharp-shooters MEADE^S "EYE-TEETH." 1J9 opened at the same instant a determined fire ; the great cavalier went at full speed to the head of his column :— then rushing like an avalanche, troopers and artillery, charged the column in front, hurst through, trampling it as he went, and at a gallop the gray horsemen, with guns following, broke out ; and were again free. Stuart was ont of the trap. From one of the " tightest places " that a commander was ever in he had extricated his whole com- mand. Once in safety, he turned like a wild boar on his enemies. In ten minutes his artillery had taken a new position— its thunders had opened — its roar told the army, that his feather still floated, his star was still in the ascendant. Such was that queer affair of Auburn. Few more curious in- cidents occurred in the war. A brave oflicer of the infantry had accompanied us as an amateur. '' I've got enough of the cavalry," he said, laughing ; " I am going back to the infantry. It is safer !" VIII. GENERAL [MEADE'S "EYE-TEETH." Stuart came back langhing from his adventure. The army hailed his reappearance with joy and cheers. They had already split the air with shouts in honor of the cavalry, on that evening at "Warrenton Springs, when Stuart charged through the ford. "Hurrah for Stuart!" was now the exclamation everywhere. And let me add that the stout cavalier keenly enjoyed his popu- larity. He was brave and fond of glory— approbation delighted him. In his ears, praise, sympathy, admiration, sounded sweet. General Lee continued to press forward, but the golden mo- ment for intercepting Meade had fled. 120 MO HUN. lie had not been cut off in Ciilpeper ; lie had not been cut off at Warrenton ; he was not going to be cut off at Bristoe, near Manassas. Hill had been sent in that direction to intercept the enemy's retreat, but on the afternoon succeeding the adventure of Stuart, an ugly blow was dealt him on the banks of Deep Pain. He came u}) with the enemy's rear guard under their l^ave General Warren ; assailed it in front of an embankment furiously, and suffered a heavy repulse. General Cooke was shot down at the head of his men ; the brigade was nearly cut to pieces ; and Warren retreated across Deep Run, in grim triumph, carrying off several pieces of Hill's artillery. It was a grievous blow, and aft'ected the brave Hill deeply. General Lee was no less melancholy ; it is said that he was both gloomy and restive. It was reported, I know not upon what authority, that when lie and General Hill were riding over the field, and Hill essayed to explain the unfortunate affair, the com- mander-in-chief shook his head, and said in grave tones : — "Say no more, general — have these poor dead soldiers buried." From the hill above Bristoe, General Lee, accompanied by Stuart, looked out in the direction of Manassas. Not a blue coat was to be seen. Meade had made good his retreat. Every- where he had eluded the blows of his great adversary — and in parting from him, finally, at Bristoe, had left blood in his foot- steps — the blood of some of Lee's best soldiers. It is said that General Meade made this retreat under protest — and that he was everywhere looking for a position to fight. A Northern correspondent described how, sitting with him by the camp-fire, General Meade had said : — " It was like pulling out my-eye teeth not to have had a fight V Did he say that? Then he was out-generalled. But he had succeeded in retreating safelv. He was behind the works of Centreville : Lee had stopped the pursuit. There was nothing more, indeed, to be done. Lee must retire, or attack the enemy behind their earth-works. That was not very promising, and he fell back toward his old camps, on the Eapidaii.. WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED. 121 Kotliing prevented the cavalry, however, from " feeling " the enemy in their new position ; and Stuart rapidly advanced to Bull Run, across whichTitz Lee drove the Federal horsemen. A raid toward their rear, by Stuart, followed. He moved to- ward Groveton ; deflected to the left, and crossed the Catharpin in a violent storm ; advanced next day toward Frying-Pan ; then striking the Second Corps of Meade, and throwing it into confu- sion, by producing the impression that his force was Lee's whole army, he quietly retired by the way he had come. His disappearance revealed all. The enemy perceived that the attack was only a " cavalry raid," and were seized with immense indignation. A picked division was sent out in pursuit of the daring raiders — and this force of horsemen, about three thousand in number, hurried across Bull Run to punish Stuart. They were commanded by the ardent General Kilpatrick :— what followed is known as the " Buckland Races." IX. WHAT THE AUTHOR HAS OMITTED. Such is a rapid summary of the cavalry operations succeeding the action of Bristoe. Those readers who cry ont for " movement I movement!" are respectfully requested to observe that I have passed over much ground, and many events in a few paragraphs :— and yet I might have dwelt on more than one scene which, possibly, might have interested the worthy reader. There was the gallant figure of General Fitz Lee, at the head of his horsemen, advancing to charge what he supposed to be the enemy's artillery near Bristoe, and singing as he went, in the gayest voice : — "Eest in peace! rest in peace! Sluinb'ring lady love of mine ; Eest in peace ! rest in peace ! Sleep on !" 122 MOHUN. There was the charge over the barricade near Yates's Ford, where a strange figure mingled just at dusk with the staff, and when arrested as he was edging away in the dark, coolly an- nounced that he belonged to tiie "First Maine Cavalry." There was the march toward Chantilly, amid the drenching storm, when Stuart rode along laughing and shouting his camp songs, with the rain descending in torrents from his heavy brown beard. There was the splendid advance on the day succeeding, through the rich autumn forest, of all the colors of the rainbow. Then the fight at Frying-Pan ; arousing the hornets' nest tliere, and the feat performed by Colonel Surry, in carrying oflf through the fire of the sharp-shooters, on the pommel of his sad- dle, a beautiful girl who declared that she was "not at all afraid!" These and many other scenes come back to memory as I sit here at Eagle's Nest. But were I to describe all I witnessed during the war, I should never cease writing. All these must be passed over — my canvas is limited, and I have so many figures to draw, so many pictures to paint, that every square inch is valuable. That is the vice of " memoirs," reader. The memory is an immense receptacle — it holds every thing, and often trifles take the prominent place, instead of great events. You are interested in those trifles, when they are part of your own experience ; but perhaps, they bore your listener and make him yawn — a terrible catastrophe ! So I pass to some real and hona fide " events." Sabres are going to clash now, and some figures whom the reader I hope has not forgotten are going to ride for the prize in the famous Buckland Races ! X. I FALL A VICTIM TO TOM'S ILL-LUCK. Stuart had fallen back, and had reached the vicinity of Buck- land. VICTIM TO TOM'S ILL-LUCK. 123 There was a bright light in his bhie eyes, a meaning smile on his Tnustached lip, which in due time I was going to under- stand. Kilpatrick was following him. From the rear guard came the crack of skirmishers. It seemed hard to understand, but the fact was perfectly evident, that Stuart was retreating. I had fallen out of the column, and was riding with Tom Her- bert. Have you forgotten that worthy, my dear reader? Has the roar of Gettysburg driven him quite from your memory ? I hope not. I have not mentioned him for a long time, so many things have diverted me — but we had ridden together, slept together, fought together, and starved together ! Tom had come to be one of my best friends, in fact, and his charming good humor beguiled many a weary march. To hear him laugh was real enjoyment; and when he would suddenly burst forth with, " Oh look at the riggings On Billy Barlo — o — o — ow !" the sternest faces relaxed, the sourest personages could not but laugh. Brave and honest fop ! Where are you to-day, mon gargon ! I wish I could see you and hear you sing again ! But I am prosing. Riding beside Tom, I was looking down and thinking of a certain young lady, when an exclamation from my companion made me raise my head. " By George! there's the house, old fellow !" "The house?" " Of the famous supper." "So it is!" "And my inamorata, Surry! I wonder if she is still there?" " Inamorata ? What is her other name ?" Tom laughed, and began to sing in his gayest voice, " Oh, Katy ! Katy ! Don't marry any other; You'll break my heart, and kill me dead, And then be hanged for murder I" " That is answer enough," I said, laughing. " Suppose we go and see if they are still alive," Tom said, blush- ing ; " ten minutes will take us to the house." 124 MOHUN. In fact, I saw across the fields, embowered in foliage, the hos- pitable mansion in which we had eaten the famous suppei* on the route to Pennsylvania. " It is risky,-' I said, hesitating. " But pleasing," retorted Tom, with a laugh. And I saw, from his flushed face, that he had set his heart on the visit. Tliat conquered me. I never could refuse Tom Herbert any thing; and we were soon cantering toward the house. Leaving our horses in a little grove, near the mansion, in order that they might not attract the attention of any of the enemy's vedettes, we hastened up the steps. As we reached the door, it opened, and Miss Katy Dare, the heroine of Tom's dreams, very nearly precipitated herself into our arms. "Oh, I am so glad to see you I*' she exclaimed, with her au- burn ringlets dancing, her eyes sparkling, — and taking care to look at me as she uttered the words. Then a Avhole bevy of young ladies hastened out to welcome ns. "Wliere had we been ? Why were we going hack ? Could Gen- eral Stuart intend to leave them in the Yankee lines again ? Oh, no ! he could not ! He could not have the heart to ! Was he coming to see them ? Oh, the sight of gray uniforms was HEATEXLY ! I ! And the young damsels positively overwnelmed me with ex- clamations and interrogatories. Eyes danced, lips smiled, cheeks glowed — they hung aronnd me, and seemed wild with enthusiasm and delight. Around me^ I say — for Tom and Miss Katy had accidentally strolled into a conservatory near at hand. A glass door gave access to it, and they had "gone to examine the flowers," the- young ladies said, with rapturous smiles and little nods. Meanwhile, "the wants of the soldiers" were bv no means forgotten. Busy hands brought in china, silver, and snowy nap- kins. On the table the waiter was soon deposited, containing a splendid, miraculous array of edibles, and these were flanked by decanters containing excellent home-made wine. SINGULAR CONVERSATION". 125 This consumed half an hour — but at last the repast was ready, and one of the young ladies hastened toward the conservatory, uttering a discreet little '' ahem !" which mada her companions laugh. In an instant Tom made his appearance with a decided color in his cheeks ; and Miss Katy — well, Miss Katy's face was the color of a peony, or a carnation. Shall I reveal to you, gentle reader, what Tom told me long afterward? He had advanced and been repulsed — had attack- ed and been "scattered." Pardon the slang of tlie army, and admire the expeditious operations of the gentlemen of the cavalrv ! Tom was blushing, but laughing too. He was game, if he was unfortunate. He did not even decline the material enjoyment of lunch, and having led in the young Miss Katy, with a charmingly foppish air, took his seat at the table, which promised so much pleasure of another description. The fates frowned on us. Tom was unlucky that day, and I was drawn into the vortex of bad fortune. Suddenly a clatter of hoofs came from the grass plat in front of the house ; the rattle of sabres from a company of cavalry fol- lowed ; and the young ladies had just time to thrust us into tlie conservatory, when the door opened, and an officer in blue uni- form, accompanied by a lady, entered the apartment. XL I OVERHEAR A SINGULAR CONVERSATION. I KEC0G^^ZED the new-comers at a glance. They were Darke, and the gray woman. There was no mistaking that powerful figure, of low stature, but herculean proportions ; that gloomy and phlegmatic face, half-covei-ed with the black beard ; and the eye glancing warily, but with a reckless fire in them, from beneath the heavy eye- brows. 126 MOHUN. The woman wore an elegant grav riding habit — gray seemed a favorite with lier. Her cheeks were as white as ever, and her lips as red. Her bearing was perfectly composed, and she advanced, with the long riding skirt thrown over her arm, walking with exquisite grace. All this I could easily gee. The glass door of the conservatory had been left ajar in the hurry of our retreat, and from behind the lemon-trees and flower-bushes, we could see into the apart- ment without difficulty. There was evidently little danger of our discovery. The new- comers had plainly entered the house with no design to search it. Darke advanced into the apartment; made the ladies a bow, which more than ever convinced me that he had been familiar with good society ; and requested food for the lady. She had tasted none for many hours, and was faint. He would not ask it for himself, inasmuch as he was an enemy. He bowed again as he spoke, and was silent. The young ladies had listened coldly. As he finished, they pointed to the waiter, and without speaking, they left the apart- ment. Darke was left alone with the woman in gray. She seemed to have regarded ceremony as unnecessary. Going to the table, she had already helped herself, and for some moments devoured, rather than ate, the food before her. TJien she rose, and went and took her seat in a rocking- chair near the fire. Darke remained erect, gazing at her, in si- lence. The lady rocked to and fro, pushed back her dark hair with the snowy hand, and looking at her companion, began to laugh. " You are not hungry ?" she said. " Xo," was his reply. "And to think that a romantic voung creature like mvself should be !" " It was natural. I hoped that you would have given up this fancy of accompanying me. You can not stand the fatigue." " I can stand it easily," she said. "When we have a cherished object, weariness does not count." " A cherished object ! "What is yours ?" SINGULAR CONVERSATION. 127 " Sit down, and I will tell yon. I am tired. You can rejoin the column in ten minutes." " So be it," said Durke, gloomily. And he sat down near her. " You wish to be informed of my object in going with you everywhere," she said. And her voice which had at first been gay and careless, assumed a mocking accent, making the nerves tingle. " I can explain in a very few words my romantic desire. I wish to see him fall." " Humph 1" ejaculated Darke, coldly ; " you mean ■" " That man — yes. You promised to kill him, when you next met. Did you not promise me that ?" Darke looked at the speaker with grim admiration. " You are a singular woman," he said ; " you never forget a wrong. And yet the wrong, people might say, was committed by you — not Tiimy " Do you say that ?" exclaimed the woman with sudden venom in her voice. "I say nothing, madam," was the gloomy reply. *'I only de- clare that you hate much more strongly than I do. I hate him — and hate him honestly. But I w^ould not take him at disadvan- tage. You would strike hina, wherever you met him — in the dark — in the back---I think you would dance the w^ar-dance around him, when he was dying !" And Darke uttered a short jarring laugh. " You are right," said the woman, coolly. " I wish to see that man die — I expected you to kill him on that night in Pennsyl- vania. You promised to do it ; — redeem your promise !" " I will try to do so, madam," said Darke, coolly. " And I wish to be present on the occasion." Darke laughed as before. " That doubtless has prevented you from having our good friend Mohun — well — assassinated !" The woman was silent for a moment. Then she said : — " No, I have tried that." "Ah!— recently?" " Yes." *'By what means — who was your agent?" G 128 MOHUN. "■ Swartz." Darke waited, li.stcning. " He has three times waylaid him behind the rebel lines, and fired on him as he was riding at night through the woods," added the woman. " Bah !" said Darke ; " Swartz told you that ?" " He has done so." " Hatred blinds you ; I do not believe that story. But I design nothing of that description against Colonel Mohun. I will fight him wherever I meet him in battle — kill him, if I can — but no assassination." A mocking smile came to the woman's lips. "You seem to dislike the idea of — assassination," she said. Darke uttered a sound resembling the growl of a wild animal, and a moment after, seizing the decanter, he dashed some of its contents into a glass, and raised it to his lips. " Cursed stuff!" he suddenly exclaimed, setting the glass down violently. "I want drink — real drink — to-day !" The woman looked at him curiously, and said quietly : — "What is the matter?" Her companion's brows were knit until the shaggy masses united over the gloomy eyes. Beneath burned a lurid fire. "I have seen him again — General Davenant," he said, in a low voice; "it is the second time." As he uttered these words, Darke seemed the prey of some singular emotion. "It was at Gettysburg first," he continued. "He was lead- ing the charge, on the third day, against Cemetery Heights. I was there by accident. They were repulsed. When he rode back, he was carrying a bleeding boy in his arms through the smoke. I recognized his tall form and gray hair ; and heard his voice in the midst of the cannon, as he cheered on his men." The speaker's face had flushed. His breast rose and fell. "That was the first time," he said. "The second was the other day when he was riding among the enemy's guns near Bristoe — I made him out with my glasses." Darke bent down, and gazed at the floor in silence. The fire SIXGULAK CONVEPwSATION. 129 in tlie dark eyes had deepened. His lieavy under lip Avas caught in the Lirge, sharp teeth. All at once a ringing laugh disturhed the silence. There "was a mocking intonation in it which was unmistakable. " General Davenant !" exclaimed the woman. ""Well, who is General Davenant?" Darke looked at the mocking speaker sidewise. "Who is General Davenant?" he said. "Is it necessary that I enlighten you, madam? He is my bugbear — my death's head ! The sight of him poisons my life, and something gnaws at me, driving me nearly mad! To see that man chills me, like the hand of death !" Tlie woman looked at him and then began to laugh. "You do unbend your noble strength, my lord!" she said, "to think so brainsickly of things !" throwing into the word, " brain sickly," exaggerated stage-rant. •"One would say," she continued, "that the brave Colonel Darke had the blues to-day ! Take care how you meet Colonel Mohun in this mood ! The result might be unfortunate." Darke made no reply for some moments. He was gazing with knit brows upon the floor. Then he raised his head. "You return to the subject of your friend," he said, coldly. " Yes. The subject is agreeable." " TVell, I can give you intelligence of him — unless Swartz has anticipated me." " What intelligence ?" "Your friend Mohun is in love — again!" The woman's face flushed suddenly. "With whom?" she said. " Ah ! there is the curious part of the affair, madam I" returned Darke. And in a low tone he added : — " The name of the young lady is — Georgia Conway." The woman half rose from her chair, with flashing eyes, and said : — "Who told you that?" Darke smiled. There was something lugubrious in that chilly mirth. 130 M O H U N . "An emissary on whom I can rely, brought me the intelli- gence," he said, " Colonel Mohun was wounded in the battle of Fleetwood, and entering a house where she was nursing the wounded, fainted, and was cauglit in her arms. From that mo- ment the affair began. She nursed him, and he was soon healed. I had myself inflicted the wound with a pistol ball — but the hurt was trifling. He got well in a few days — and was ready to meet me again at Upperville — but in those few days the young lady and himself became enamored of each other. She is proud, they say, and had alwavs laughed at love — he too is a woman-hater — no doubt from some old aflair, madam I — but both the young people suddenly changed their views. Colonel Mohun became devoted ; the young woman forgot her sarcasm. My emissary saw them riding out more than once near Culpeper Court-Honse ; and since the return of the army, they have been billing and cooing like two doves, quite love sick ! That's agreeable, is it not, madam ?" And Darke nttered a singular laugh. As for the woman she had grown so pale, I thought she would faint. " Do you understand, madam ?" continued Darke. " Colonel Mohun is in love again ; and the name of his friend is — Georgia Conway !" The woman was silent ; but I saw that she was gnawing her nails. "My budget is not exhausted, madam," continued Darke. "The yonng lady has a sister ; her name is Virginia. She too has a love aff'air with a young officer of the artillery. His name is William Davenant!" And the speaker clutched the arm of a chair so violently that the wood cracked in his powerful grasp. "That is all!" he added. " The Mohuns, Davenanta and Con- ways, are about to intermarry, you see ! Their blood is going to mingle, their hands to clasp, in spite of the gulf of fire that di- vides their people! All is forgotten, or they care nothing. They are yonder, billing, and cooing, and kissing ! the tender hearts are throbbing — all the world is bright to them — while I am here, and you, tearing our hearts out in despair!" Darke stopped, uttering a sound between a curse and a groan. SIN^GULAR C0NVERSATI0:N'. 131 Tlie woman had listened with a bitter smile. As he finished, she rose and approached him. Her eyes burned in the pale face like coals of fire. " There is a better thing than despair !" she said. "What?" " Vengeance !" And grasping his arm almost violently : — " That man is yonder !" she said, pointing with the other hand toward Warrenton, " Go and meet him, and kill him, and end all this at once ! Remember the banks of the Nottaway ! — That sword thrust — that grave ! Remember, he hates you with a deadly hatred — has wounded you, laughed at you, — driven you back, when you met him, like a hound under the lash ! Remem- ber me ! — your oath I Break that oath and I will go and kill him myself!" As she uttered these words a cannon shot thundered across the woods. " Listen !" the woman exclaimed. Darke rose suddenly to his feet. *' You are right I" he said, gloomily. " You keep me to the work. I do not hate him as you do — but he is an enemy, and I will kill him. Why do I yield to you, and obey you thus ? What makes me love you, I wonder !" Suddenly a second gun roared from beyond Buckland. "We will talk of that afterward," said the woman, witli flushed cheeks ; " think of one thing only now — that Tie is yonder." " Good !" said Darke, " and I hope that in an hour one of us will be dead, I care not which — come, madam — but you must not expose yourself!" "What ami!" "All I have left!" he said. And with a gloomy look he rushed from the house, followed by the gray woman. 132 MO HUN. XII. THE BUCKLAND RACES. In a moment the voice of Darke was heard, ordering "to horse !" a clatter of sabres followed ; and the company of cav- alry sat out at full gallop toward the firing. At their head I saw Darke's burly figure. The woman, es- corted by an orderly, rode toward the rear. In a few minutes the company of cavalry had entered a belt of woods and disappeared. "We had hastened into the apartment — Tom and myself, and looked now toward the highway. It was dark with a long column of Federal cavalry which seemed to be in great agitation. The column, as well as I could make out, numbered at least a division. Neither the head nor the tail of the blue serpent was visible — only the main body, with its drawn sabres glittering like silver scales in the sun. I hesitated not many seconds. Something was evidently going on, and our present whereabouts dangerous. With a hasty salute to the young ladies who had hurried in, I made a sign to Tom, and ran to my horse. My companion did not join me for at least five minutes. Ira- patience began to master me, when he appeared, laughing, and flourishing a knot of red ribbon, which I had observed in Miss Katy's hair. With a bound he was in the saddle — I saw him turn and make a gay salute toward the ladies on the steps, and then we set out at full speed across the fields to rejoin Stuart. He was evidently engaged with the enemy. From the front came quick carbine shots and shouts. From the woods, on the left flank and in rear of the enemy, was heard the rapid thunder of cannon. Suddenly every thing flashed upon me. I remembered Stuart's significant smile ; the absence of Fitz Lee; a trap had evidently been laid, and General Kilpatrick had fallen into it. I was not deceived. The gallant Fitz Lea had suggested the THE BUCKLAND RACES. 133 ruse. He was to move toward Auburn, while Stuart retreated upon Warrenton, pursued by Kilpatrick. Then Fitz Lee was to attack the enemy in flank and rear, from the direction of Auburn — his cannon would be the signal for Stuart to turn. General Kilpatrick, thus assailed in front, flank and rear, sauve qui pent would, probably, be the order of the day with him. Everything turned out exactly as it had been arranged. Stuart retired steadily on Warrenton. "When the Federal rear ap- proached Buckland, Fitz Lee came in on their left flank, and then Stuart turned like a tiger, and bore down on the head of their column. That gun we had heard was the signal of Fitz Lee''s attack. Those carbine shots came from Stuart as his men charged. We had set out at full speed to rejoin Stuart, as I have said ; but he saved Tom and myself the trouble of riding very far. He came to meet us, at full gallop, with drawn sabre, driving the Federal troopers in disorder before him. The affair that succeeded was one of the most animated of the war. The enemy were completely dumbfoundered, but a part of Kilpatrick's force made a hard fight. Sabres clashed, carbines cracked, Fit^ Lee's artillery roared — the fields and woods around Buckland were full of tumult and conflict. In ten minutes we had caught up with Stuart. He was lead- ing his column in person. At the head of the front regiment rode Mohun, with drawn sabre, and pressing his magnificent gray to headlong speed. In his eye was the splendid joy of combat; his cheeks glowed; his laughing lips revealed the white teeth under the black mustache. It was difficult to recognize in this gay cavalier, the pale, bitter and melancholy cynic of the previous June. "Look, Surry!" exclaimed Mohun, "we are driving our friend Kilpatrick! Stuart is down on him like a lion!" "You are driving a personal friend of yours, besides!" I said. " Yonder he is — Colonel Darke !" Mohun's smile disappeared suddenly. He looked at Darke, whose burly figure was seen at the head of the charging column ; and that glance was troubled and doubtfal. 134 MOHUN. " I am sorry to meet him," he said, in a low tone. " Whv ?" " He would not strike me vonder, in Pennsylvania, when I was in his power." " But he has sworn to kill you to-day I " I exclaimed. *' I have just heard him swear that ! Look out, Mohun ! here they are I" In an instant the two columns had clashed together, like thun- der. What followed was a fierce and confused struggle — sabres clashing, carbines banging, men shouting, groaning, and falling from their horses, which trampled over the dead and wounded alike. I was close beside Mohun as he closed in with Darke. The lat- ter had plainly resolved on his enemy's destruction ; and in an in- stant the two men were cutting furiously at each other with their sabres. They were body to body — their faces flamed — it was rather a wrestle on horseback, than a sword fight. Suddenly ITohun delivered a blow which fell upon his oppo- nent's sword hand, nearly cutting through the fingers. Darke's arm instinctively fell, and he was at his adversary's mercy. Instead of plunging his sword into Darke's breast, however, as he might have done, Mohun let its point fall, and said : — " Take your life! o^Tow I am even with you, sir!" Darke recoiled, and a furious flash darted from his eyes. Then liis left hand went to his hilt ; he drew a pistol ; and spur- ring close up to Mohun, placed the weapon on his enemy's breast, and fired. The bullet passed through Mohun's breast, but at the same instant Darke uttered a fierce cry. Mohun had driven his sword's point through the Federal officer's throat — the blood spouted around the blade— a moment afterward the two adversaries had clutched, dragged each other from their rearing horses, and were tearing each other with hands and teeth on the ground, wet with their blood. One of Mohun's men leaped from horseback and tore them apart. '' A sword! give me a sword," exclaimed Mohun, hoarsely. And rising to his feet, he clutched at an imaginary weapon, — ■ his lips foamed with blood, — and reeling, he fell at full length on SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863 135 the body of his adversary, who was bathed in blood, and seemed to be dying. What is here described, all took place in a few minutes. In that time the enemy's column had been broken, and hurled back. Suddenly the wild Southern cheer rang above the woods. Stuart and Fitz Lee had united their forces ; in one solid column they pressed the flying enemy, banging and thundering on their rear with carbines and cannon. Kilpatrick was defeated; his column in hopeless rout. "Stuart boasts of having driven me from Culpeper;" he is reported to have said just before the fight, " and now I am going to drive Aim." But Stuart was not driven. On the contrary, he drove Kil- patrick. Some of the enemy's column did not stop, it is said, before they reached the banks of the Potomac. Such was the dramatic termination of the last great cavalry campaign of Stuart. The affair came to be known as " The Buckland Races," and Stuart's old sabreurs still laugh as they recall the comedy. XIII. TWO SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863. The campaign of October, 1863, was over. Lee was behind the Rapidan. In December General Meade struck a blow, in turn, at his ad- versary. Shall we glance, in passing, at that affair of Mine Run? I saw a spectacle there — and a sad one, too — which I am tempted lo describe, though aware it has little to do with my narrative. I have left Colonels Mohun and Darke in a bloody embrace yonder near Buckland. I ought to relate at length how they were not dead, and how they in due time recovered, but for the moment I think of a fine sight, and a weeping face, whicli I saw in the woods below Verdiersville. 6* 136 MOHUN. Let us ride thither, reader, it will not take long. In December, then, General Meade crossed the lower Rapidan, and advanced to assail General Lee in his works above. A fiasco followed. Meade marched toward Verdiersville ; found his adversary behind earth-works, near that place ; recon- noitered them, felt them, moved backward and forward before them — and then, one morning, before General Lee was aware of the fact, quietly disappeared, returning to the north bank of the Eapidan. You see I have no battles to describe on this occasion, reader. We had some hard figliting in the cavalry, but I shall not dwell upon that. It is some handsome fire-necklaces, and a talk with an old woman, wliich I shall speak of. The fire-necklaces were manufactured by General Meade's troops, just before their retreat. The men had fallen into line at the word ; moved silently toward the Rapidan, and had not taken the trouble, in leaving the rebel woods, to extinguish their bivouac fires, amid the thickets, carpeted with leaves. The re- sult was a splendid spectacle. The fires had gradually burned outward, devouring the carpet of dry leaves. Great circles of flame were seen everywhere in the woods, and these dazzling fire-necklaces grew larger and larger, twined together, became entangled, twisted about, sparkled, crackled, — of all the sights I ever saw I think this was the most curious ! From time to time the flanjes crawled along and reached the foot of some tall tree, festooned with dry vines. Then the vine would catch ; the flame would dart through the festoons ; climb the trunk ; stream from the summit, — and above the blazing rings, twisting in endless convolutions, would roar a mighty tongue of flame, crimson, baleful, and menacing. It was a new " torch of war," invented by General Meade. Such was the picturesque spectacle which rose a moment ago to my memory. Now for the sad scene which I witnessed, as I rode back with Stuart. Passing a small house, a poor woman came out, and with eyes full of tears, exclaimed, addressing Stuart: — SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863. 137 " Oh, child ! stop a minute ! Are they coming back ? They have took every thing I had — they are not coming back !" * Stuart stopped. He was riding at the head of his staff, pre- ceded by his battle-flag. Not a trace of amusement was seen on his features, as he heard himself addressed in that phrase, " Oh, child!" "Have they treated you so badly?" he said, in his grave, kind voice. " Oh, yes !" exclaimed the poor vroman, weeping bitterly, " they have took every hog, cow, and ear of corn I have, and every thing from my daughter ; she is a widow, and lives near us. These are her children, my grandchildren, come to get out of the way." * And she pointed to two or three little girls,, with frightened faces, and eyes wet with tears. Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never shrunk, was a wealth of sweetness and kindness. " Well, they are not coming back, my good woman," he said, in a voice of deep feeling. "You need not be afraid — they are gone now." The poor woman clasped her hands. " Oh ! do you believe that, child !" * she said ; " do you believe they'll never come back?" "I hope not, at least," Stuart replied, in a low tone. "She clasped her hands, and for the third time addressing him as "child," sobbed: — " Oh! if they will only never come back!" That scene affected me deeply. The poor woman's tears brought something into my throat, which seemed to choke me. This time the Northern soldiers had been impartial in their maraud- ing. They had not only destroyed the property, and carried off the slaves of the wealthy proprietors, the "bloated aristocrats;" thev had taken tlie bread out of the mouths of the widow and the fatherless — leaving them bare and starving in that bleak Decem- ber of '63. War conducted in that manner is barbarous — is it not, reader? ♦ Her words. 138 MOnUN. The cry of that widow aud her children must have gone up to Heaven. Stnart returned to Ijis bivouac in the pine wood near Verdiers- ville, where he had slept without tents, hj his camp-fire, all these freezing nights. Then the army began to move ; soon it resumed its former position ; the cavalry was sent to watch the fords of the Kapidan ; and Stuart returned to his own head-quarters near Orange Court-House, gayly singing, as he had left them to advance and meet the enemy. XIV. STUART'S WINTER QUARTERS. * Coox Hollow! — What gay memories are evoked by that familiar name! How we laughed and sang in that hollow in the hills near Orange, in the cold winter of 1863! Stuart called his head-quarters ""Wigwam Independence," but the officers of his staff gave them the sobriquet of " Coon Hol- low ;" aud I adopt in my memoirs the old familiar designation. Never were soldiers more comfortable than the inhabitants of Coon Hollow ! — and Stuart's tent was the most comfortable of all. He had stretched a large canvas beneath some sheltering trees; and filling up the opening at each end with a picturesque wicker-work of evergreens, ensconced himself there in his sylvan lodge, like some Robin Hood, or ranger of the greenwood in old times. The woodland haunt and open air life seemed, at first, to charm the bold cavalier; nothing seemed wanting to his happi- ness, lost here in the forest : but soon the freezing airs " demor- alized " even the stout cavalryman, and he exchanged his canva*; for a regular tent of the largest description, with a plank floor, a camp-couch, and a mighty chimney, wherein sparkled, ere long, a cheerful fire of hickorv, driving awav the blasts of the cold winter nights, which were sent on their way with song. Such was Stuart's own domicile. The staff tents were grouped STUART'S WINTER QUARTERS. I39 around, with their solid chimneys of rock. The "cavalry head- quarters " was complete — a warm nest in the woods. Couriers came and went; sabres rattled ; spurs jingled ; the horses whin- nied from their stables, woven of pine boughs, near by ; and in and out of the general's tent played his two boisterous setters, Nip and Tuck, the companions of his idle hours. We all messed' together, under a broad canvas, at one table : music resounded ; songs were sung; Sweeney, soon, alas! to be dead, was yet king of the woodland revels; Stuart joined in his songs, to the musio of the banjo ; and not seldom did the bright faces of fair ladies shine on us, bringing back all the warmth of the summer days — the blue sky, the sunshine, and the smiles ! Such was good old " Coon Hollow." I recall it with delight. The chill airs cut you to the bone when you ventured out on horseback from the sheltered nook ; but in Coon Hollow all was warm and bright. In the woods on the crest above, the winds sighed : but in the hollow below, the banjo rattled ; laughter resounded ; great fires roared ; and, as though in open defiance of winter and its tempests, Stuart, carolled in his clear and sono- rous voice, his favorite ditty, " Tho dew is on the blossom." So we sang and laughed all those long winter evenings. The winds carried away the sound of jests, and banjo notes. The long hours of winter thus flew by like birds lost, one by one, in the night of the past. Happy days ! happy nights! I remember them still. Stuart is dead— more than one of my dear compan- ions have followed him — but their voices sound airain, their eves again flash, their friendly smiles linger in memory. So the days fled by — and I wonder if our friends across the Rapidan, who were going to crush us, were as gay as the folk about to be crushed ? The future looked stormy, but we laughed —and we did right, did we not, friend ? That mirth was not unseemly — not unworthy of approval. It is evidence at least of " game," non fractum esse fortund et retinere in reins asperis, dignitatem — is it not? Good fortune, wealth, and success, are notliing compared to that. For my part, I would rather have the equal mind in arduous things, than money in my purse, or 140 MOIIUN. victory. The army of JSTorthern Virginia had that in the winter of 1863, as they had had it in 1861 and '62, and were going to have it iu the dark year and black winter preceding April, 18li5. But I linger too long on those days at " Coon Hollow." Tlie wave of war had wafted us to that quiet nook ; for a time, we laughed and sang ; but the storm was coming. Soon it struck us; and we left tlie harbor, driven by the tempest. So I dismiss Coon Hollow, lost amid tlie hills of Orange. The si»ot is desolate to-day, and the bleak wood is silent. But for me, Stuart is singing there now as then — and will sing in my memory forever! LEE'S "RAGGED REGIMENTS." It required a stout heart to laugh and sing, con amore^ in the last days of that winter, and the first days of spring, 1864. Those very figures, "1864," tell the story, and explain this. Do they not, reader ? Each year of the war has its peculiar plivsiognomy. 1861 — that is mirth, adventure, inexperience, bright faces, wreaths of flowers, "boxes" from home, and "honorable men- tion " in reports, if you only waved your sword and shouted " Hurrah!" Then you heard the brass bands playing, the drum gayly rolling, the bugles sending their joyous notes across the fields and through the forests — blooming fields, untouched forests 1 — and that music made the pulses dance. Gayly-clad volunteers marched gallantly through the streets ; the crowds cheered ; the new flags, shaped by fair hands, fluttered ; — not a bullet had torn through them, not a rent was seen in the new uniforms. As the trains swept by with the young heroes on board, bevies of lovely girls cheered, waved handkerchiefs, and threw nosegays. Eyes were sparkling, lips smiling, cheeks glow- iag in '61. The youtiis had havelocks to ward oft* tlie sun ; gaiters to keep out the dust ; woollen belts to prevent rheuma- LEE'S "EAGGED KEGIMENTS." 141 tism ; fanciful shirt bosoms, and pretty needle-cases and tobacco poncbes of silk and velvet, decked with beads and gay needle- work, bv the dearest finsrers in the world ! So they went to the wars — those stout and ruddy youths. Every one anxious to have his liead taken off by a cannon ball, all for the honor and glory of it. They marched along cheering, as the white handkerchiefs waved ; they proudly kept step to the tap of the drum, or moved briskly beside the cannon, or canter- ed by on their glossy and spirited horses. The epoch was agitated, but joy coursed in every vein. And when the first successes came, those small affairs were greeted with "thunders of applause." General Spoons marched to Bethel ; took a look at the gray people ; fired a gun or two before retreating — and a thousand Southern journalists shouted "lo, triumphe! — a grand victory!" The brave Del, Kemper fired a shot at the Federal train ap- jjtroaching Vienna, and the journalists cried, "we have driven back the whole Federal army I" Then some real fighting came, and the applause was again tremendous. When the news of the first Manassas flashed over the wires, the Southern people stood upon their heads, and went wild. The war was ended — the affair was over — the brass bands, and rolling drums, and dazzling uniforms had speedily done the business. The power of the North was broken. She had run upon the breakers. The great hulk was lying stranded, the ■waves were beating her, and she was about to go to pieces. Such was 1861 — an era of mirth, inexperience, inflated views, brilliant pageants, gay adventures, ruddy cheeks, sparkling eyes and splendid banners, floating proudly in the sunshine of victory ! 1862 came, and with it a new phase of the war. Sweat, dust, and blood had replaced the music and wreaths of roses. Faces, were not so ruddy — they began to look war-worn. The rounded cheeks had become gaunt. The bright uniforms were battle-soiled. Smoke had stained them, the bivouac dimmed them, the sun had changed the blue-gray to a sort of scorched yellow. Waving handkerchiefs still greeted the troops — as they greeted them to the end of the war. But few flowers were thrown now — their good angels looked on in silence, and prayed for them. 14-2 MOHUX. They were no longer holiday soldiers, but were hardened in battle. They knew the work before them, and advanced to it with the measured tramp of veterans. They fought as well as soldiers have ever fought in this world. Bid they not ? Answer, Cold Harbor, Malvern Hill, Cedar Mountain, Manassas, Boons- boro\ Sharpsburg, and Fredericksburg! And every battle, nearly, was a victory. In the lowlands and the mountains — in Virginia and Maryland — they bore aloft the banner of the South in stalwart hands, and carried it forward with unshrinking hearts, to that baptism of blood awaiting it. That was the great year for the South. The hour was dark — a huge foe fronted us — but wherever that foe was met, he seemed to reel before the mailed hand that buffeted his front. All frippery and decoration had long been stripped from the army. The fingers of war — real war — had torn off the gaudy trappings ; and the grim lips had muttered, '' What I want is hard muscle, and the brave heart — not tinsel I" The bands were seldom heard — the musicians were tending the wounded. The drums had ceased their jovial rattle, and were chiefly used in the " long roll," which said " Get ready, boys! they are coming!" So in the midst of smoke and dust, — with yells of triumph, or groans of agony, in place of the gay cheering — passed that year of battles, 1862. The South was no longer romantic and elated on the subject of the war. The soldiers no longer looked out for adventures, or for the glorious cannon-ball to carry off their heads, and make their names immortal. At home, the old men were arming, and the women sending words of cheer to their husbands and sons, and praying. In the camps, the old soldiers had forgotten the wreaths of roses. Their havelocks were worn out, and they no longer minded the sun. Gray flannel had replaced the "fancy" shirt bosoms ; they carried tobacco in their pockets ; and you saw them, seated on some log, busy sewing on buttons, the faces once so round and ruddy, now gaunt and stained with powder. 1863 came, and it was an army of veterans that struck Hooker at Chancellorsville. It was no longer a company of gay gallants marching by, amid music, waving scarfs, and showers of nose- gays from fairy hands. It was a stormy wave of gaunt warriors, LEE'S "RAGGED REGIMENTS." 143 in ragged clothes and begrimed faces, wlio clutched their shining muskets, rushed headlong over the breastworks, and, rolling through the blazing and crackling woods, swept the enemy at the point of the bayonet, with the hoarse and menacing cry, " Re- member Jackson!" Gettysburg followed — never was grapple more fierce than that, as we have seen; and when the veterans of Lee were hurled back, the soil of the continent seemed to shake. They were repulsed and retreated, but as the lion re- treats before the huntsman, glaring back, and admonishing him not to follow too closely, if he -would consult his own safety. At Williamsport the wounded lion halted and turned — his pur- suer did not assail him — and he crossed the Potomac, and de- scended to the Rapidan, to strike in turn that dangerous blow in October, when Meade was nearly cut off from Washington. With that campaign of Bristoe, and the fiasco of Mine Run, the year 1863 ended. It left the South bleeding, and what was worse, — discouraged. Affairs were mismanaged. The armv had scarcely sufficient meat and bread to live on. The croakers, clad in black coats, and with snowy shirt bosoms, began to mutter under their breath, " It is useless to struggle longer !" — and, recoiling in disgust from the hard fare of " war times," began to hunger for the flesli-pots of Egypt. Manna was tasteless now ; the task-master was better than the wilderness and the scant fare. Oh ! to sit by the flesh- pots and grow fat, as in the days when they did eat thereof! Why continue the conflict? Why waste valuable lives? Why think of still fighting when flour was a hundred dollars a barrel, coffee twenty dollars a pound, cloth fifty dollars a yard, and good whiskey and brandy not to be purchased at any price ? Could pat- riotism live amid trials like that? Could men cling to a cause which made them the victims of Yankee cavalry ? Why have faith any longer in a government that was bankrupt — whose promises to pay originated the scoffing proverb, " as worthless as a Confederate note!" Meat and drink was the religion of tiie croakers in those days. Money was their real divinity. Without meat and drink, and with worthless money, the Confederacy, in their eyes, was not the side to adhere to. It was unfortunate — dov/n with it ! Let it be anathema-marauatha ! 144 MOHUN. The croakers said that — and the brave hearts whom they in- sulted could not silence thera. There were stout souls in black coats — but the croakers distilled their poison, working busily in the darkness. It was the croakers who bought up the supplies, and hoarded them in garrets, and retailed them in driblets, there- by causing the enormous prices which, according to them, fore- told the coming downfall. They evaded the conscript officers ; grew fat on their extortions; and one day you would miss them from their accustomed haunts — they had flitted across the Poto- mac, and were drinking their wine in New York, London, or Paris. Meanwhile, three classes of persons remained faithful to the death : — the old men, the army, and the women. The gray-beards were taking down their old guns and swords, and forming home-battalions, to fight the enemy to the death when his cavalry came to lay waste the country. The women were weaving homespun, knitting socks, nursing the wounded, and praying. They had never ceased to pray, nor had they lost the heart of hope. The croakers believed in suc- cess, and their patron saint was Mammon. The women believed in the justice of the cause, and in God. In 1801, they had cheered the soldiers, and waved their handkerchiefs, and rained bouquets. In 1862, they had sent brave words of encouragement, and bade their sons, and brothers, and husbands fight to the end. In 1863, they repeated that — sent the laggards back to the ranks — and when they were not sewing, or nursing the sick^ were praying. O women of Virginia, and the great South to her far- thest limits, there is nothing in all history that surpasses your grand record! You hoped, in the dark days as in the bright; — when bearded men shrunk, you fronted the storm unmoved ! Always you hoped, and endured, and prayed for the land. Had the rest done their dutv like the women and the armv, the red- cross flag would be floating to-day in triumph ! The army — that was unshaken. Gettysburg had not broken its strength, nor affected its stout manhood. Lee's old soldiers be- lieved in him after Gettysburg, in the winter of '63, as they had believed in him after Fredericksburg, in the winter of '62. They had confidence still in their great leader, and in their cause. Tlie HAMMER AND RAPIER. 145 wide gaps in their ranks did not dismay them ; want of food did not discourage them ; hunger, hardships, nakedness, defeat, — they had borne these in the past, they were bearing them still, they were ready to bear them in the future. War did not fright them — though the coming conflict was plainly going to be more bitter than any before. The great array of Grant on the north bank of the Rapidan did not depre&s them — had they not met and defeated at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville a force as great, and could not they do it again ? So they lay in their camps on the Rapidan, in that cold winter of 1863 — a little army of ragged and hungry men, with gaunt faces, wasted forms, shoeless feet; with nothing to encourage them but the cause, past victories, and Lee's presence. That was much ; what was enough, however, was the blood in their veins ; the inspiration of the great race of fighting men from whom they derived their origin. Does any one laugh at that? The winner will — but the truth remains. That ragged and famished army came of a fighting race. It was starving and dying, but it was going to fight to the last. When the cannon began to roar in May, 1864, these gaunt vet- erans were in line, with ragged coats, but burnished bayonets. When Lee, the gray cavalier, rode along their lines, the woods thundered with a cheer which said, " Ready !" XVI. HAMMER AND RAPIER. I PASS to the great collision of armies in the first days of May. Why say any thing of that dark episode called " Dahlgren's raid?" A full account would be too long — a brief sketch too short. And whatever our Northern friends may think, it is not agreeable to us to dwell on that outrage. Was that war ? Was it civilized warfare to march in the darkness upon a city full of 146 MO HUN". women and children — to \Aiin the assassination of the Southern President and his cabinet; the destruction of the city by the torch ; the release of the Federal prisoners at Belle Isle, to be let loose afterward with fire and sword on Richmond? Alas! all that was planned. The orders were captured, and exist still. Was that war ? I repeat. Answer, friends of the North. Or, did you think us mere wild beasts? I omit all that ; passing on to the real fighting. General Ulysses S. Grant had been appointed commander-in- chief of the armies of the United States, and had taken com- mand in person of the army of the Potomac, confronting Lee on the Rapidan. Before the curtain rises, and the cannon begin to roar, let ns glance at the relative numbers, and the programme of the Federal leader. Grant's " available force present for duty. May 1, 1864," was, according to the report of the Federal Secretary of War, 141, 1G6 men. Lee's force, "present for duty," as his army rolls will show, was 52,626 men. That is to say, rather more than one-third of his adversary's. Lee afterward received about 10,000 re-enforceraents from Beau- regard's columns. Grant received about 50,000. With about 62,000 men Lee repulsed the attacks of Grant with about 200,000 men, from the Rapidan to Petersburg — inflicting a loss on his adversary, by the Federal statement of more than 60,000 men. These numbers may be denied, but the proof is on record. The programme of General Grant in the approaching campaign was one of very great simplicity. He intended to "hammer con- tinuously>" as he wrote to President Lincoln, and crush his adver- sary at whatever expense of money and blood. From 1861 to 1864, war had been war, such as the world understands it. Pitched battles had been fought — defeats sustained — or victories gained. Then the adversaries rested before new pitched battles : more defeats or victories. General Grant had determined to change all that. It had been tried, and had failed. He possessed a gigantic r HAMMER AND PwAPIER. 147 ■weapon, the army of the United States. In his grasp was a huge sledge-hammer — the army of the Potomac. He was going to clutch that tremendous weapon, whirl it aloft like a new Vul- can, and strike straight at Lee's crest, and try to end him. If one blow did not suffice, he was going to try another. If that failed, in its turn, he would strike another and another. All the year was before him ; there were new men to fill tlie places of those w^ho fell ; blood might gush in torrents, but the end was worth the cost. "Would it hurl a hundred thousand men into bloody graves? That was unfortunate, but unavoidable. Would the struggle frighten and horrify the world ? It was possible. But these things w'ere unimportant. The rebellion must be crushed. The sledge-hammer must strike until Lee's keen rapier was shattered. Hammer and rapier were matched against each other — the combat was a routrance— the hammer must beat down the rapier, or fall from the grasp of him who wielded it. Such was the programme of General Grant. It was not war exactly, in the old acceptation of the term. It was not taught by Jomini, or practised by Napoleon. You would have said, indeed, at the first glance, that it rejected the idea of generalship m toto. Let us give General Grant his just dues, however. He was not a great commander, but he teas a man of clear brain. He saw that brute force could alone shatter the army of Northern Virginia ; that to w^ear it away by attrition, exhaust its blood drop by drop, was the only thing left — and he had the courage to adopt that programme. To come back to events on the Rapidan in the month of May, 1864. Lee is ready for the great collision, now seen to be inevitable. His right, under Ewell, occupies the works on the southern bank , of the Rapidan, above Chancellorsville. His centre, under A. P. Hill, lies near Orange Court-House. His left, under Longstreet, is in reserve near Gordonsville. The army of Northern Virginia is thus posted in echelon of corps, extending from Gordonsville, by Orange, toward the fords of the Rapidan. When the enemy cross on their great advance, Ewell is ready 148 MOHUK. to fuco east ; Hill will close in on liis right; and Longstreet in the same manner on Hill's right. Then the armj will be in line, ready to strike at Grant's flank as he moves through the "Wilder- ness. For Lee is going to strike at him. The fifty thousand are going to order the one hundred and forty thousand to halt. Stuart's cavalry is watching. It extends from Madison Court- House, along Robertson River, on the left of the army ; and on the right, from Swell's camps, past Chancellorsville, to Freder- icksburg. Such was the situation on the first of May. The two tigers were watching each other — and one was about to spring. XVII. FORT DELAWARE. To descend now .from the heights of generalization to the X>lain3 of incident and personal observation. For this volume is not a history of the war in Virginia, but the memoirs of a staff officer belonging to Stuart's cavalry. May, 1864, had come; we were soon to be in the saddle ; the thundering hammer of General Grant was about to commence its performances. One night — it was the night of the first of May — I was sitting in General Stuart's tent, looking into his blazing log fire, and musing. In this luxury I was not interrupted. It was nearly midnight, and the rest of the staff had retired. Stuart was writing at his desk, by the light of a candle in a captured " camp candlestick," and from time to time, without turning his head, ejaculated some brief words upon any subject which came into his head. After writing ten minutes, he now said briefly : — " Surrv." " General," was ray as brief response. " I think Mohun was a friend of yours ?" " Yes, general, we became intimate on the march to Gettysourg." FORT DELAWAEE. I49 " Well, I have just received his commission — " ' ' You mean as — " '• Brigadier-general. You know I long ago applied for it." " I knew that — pity he has not been exchanged." "A great pitj, — and you miss a pleasure I promised myself I would give you." " What pleasure, general ?" "To take Mohun his commission with your own hands." " I am truly sorry I can not. You know he was terribly wound- ed, and we had to leave him in Warrenton ; then the enemy ad- vanced; for a long time we thought him dead. Thus I am sorry I am debarred the pleasure you offer. Some day I hope to accept your offer." "Accept it now, colonel," said a benignant voice at the door. I turned suddenly, as did the general. At the opening of the tent, a head was seen — the head passed through — was followed by a body, — and Mr. Nighthawk, private and confidential emis- sary, glided in with the stealthy step of a wild-cat. He was unchanged. His small eyes were as piercing, his smile as benignant, his costume — black coat, white cravat, and " stove- pipe " hat — as clerical as before. "Good evening, gentlemen," said Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly; "I bring news of Colonel Mohun." "And fly in like an owl, or your namesake!" laughed Stuart. "An owl? I am told that is the bird of wisdom, gentlemen !" " You hit the nail on the head, when you said 'gentlemen ." " * replied Stuart, laughing; "but how about Mohun? Is he ex- changed, Nighthawk?" And Stuart wheeled round and pointed to a chair. Nighthawk sat down modestly. "Not exchanged, exactly, general; but safe!" he said. " He escaped ?" "Exactly, general." "And you helped him?" "I believe so." "Good! You really are a trump, Nighthawk — and you seem to have a peculiar fancy for Mohun." * A favdrite phrase of Stuart's. 150 MOHUN. "He is the best friend I have in the world, general." " Well, that accounts for it. But how did he escape?" "I will tell you in a few words, general. I rather pride my- self on the manner in which I conducted the little affiiir. You remember, Colonel Mohun was very badly wounded when you defeated Kilpatrick at Buckland. It was in a fight with Colonel Darke, of the Federal cavalry, who was also wounded and left dying, as was erroneously supposed, at a small house on the road- side, when you fell back. Colonel Mohun was left at "Warren- ton, his wound being so severe that he could not be brought far- ther in his ambulance, and here he staid until he was conva- lescent. His recovery was miraculous, as a bullet had passed through his breast; but he is a gentleman of vigorous constitu- tion, and he rallied at last, but, unfortunately, to find himself a prisoner. General Meade had reoccupied the country, and Col- onel Mohun was transferred from hospital to Fort Delaware, as a prisoner of war. "I have informed you, general," continued Mr. Nighthawk, smiling, and turning the rim of his black hat between his fingers, "that Colonel Mohun was one of my best friends. For that reason, I went to see him at Warrenton, and had arranged a very good plan for his escape, when, unfortunately, he was all at once sent away, thereby disappointing all ray schemes. I followed, however, saw that he was taken to Fort Delaware, and proceeded thither at once. You have probably not visited this place, gen- eral, or you, colonel. It is a fort, and outside is a pen, or stock- ade as it is called, covering two or three acres. Inside are cabins for the prisoners, in the shape of a semicircle, and grounds to walk in, except in the space marked off by the 'dead line.' If any prisoner crosses that he is shot by the sentries, whose beat is on a platform running round upon the top of the stockade. ""Well, I went to the place, and found that Colonel Mohun was confined with other ofllcers in the pen, where they had the usual Federal ration of watery soup, bad meat, and musty crackers. For a gentleman, like himself, accustomed before the war to every luxury that unbounded wealth could supply, this was naturally disagreeable, and I determined to omit no exertion to effect his escape. THE TJNIFORM 151 "Unfortunately, the rules of Fort Delaware are very strict however. To cross the 'dead line ' is death; to attempt to bur- row is confinement in irons, and other degrading punishments- and to bribe the sentinels invariably resulted in having the whole affair revealed, after they had received the money. It really seemed as if Colonel Mohun were doomed to the living death of a filthy prison until the end of the war, since exchanges had ceased, and it was only by devising a ruse of very great risk that I accomplished the end in view." "What was your plan, Nighthawk?" said Stuart, rising and moving to the fireplace, where he stood basking in the wal-mth. " Original, I lay my life, and— quiet." " Exactly that, general." And Nighthawk smiled sweetly. XVIII. THE UNIFOEM. " I HAVE always observed, general," said Mr. Kighthawk, rais- ing his eyes in pious meditation, as it were, " that there is no bet- ter rule for a man's conduct in life than to make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness — people in power." "A profound maxim," laughed Stuart; "friends are useful— that was your principle?" " Yes, general ; and I made one of the quartermaster of the post— a certain major Woodby— who was exceedingly fond of the ' root of all evil.' I made that gentleman's acquaintance, applied for the place of sutler in the pen ; and this place I acquired by agreeing to pay a heavy bonus in thirty days. " This was Saturday night. On Monday morning I presented myself before the gate, and demanded admittance as the newly appointed sutler of the pen. "I was admitted, and taken before the officer of the day, in his quarters. 7 Li I U t 152 MOHUN. '' 'Who are you?' he asked, gruffly. " 'The new sutler, lieutenant.' " ' Where are your papers?' " I had them ready, and presented them to him. He read them carefully, looked at me superciliously, and said : — " 'That is wholly informal.' " I looked at him. He had a red nose. " 'I have some excellent French brandy, captain,' I said, pro- moting him. "At sight of the portly flask which I drew half from my pocket and exhibited to him, I saw his face relax. " ' You are a keen fellow, and know the world, I perceive,' he said. "And taking the flask, he poured out nearly a glass full of the brandy, and drank it. Do you intend to keep that article of brandy V he said. For my friends, captain,' I replied, with a wink which he evidently understood. " ' Let me see your papers again.' " I unfolded them, and he glanced at them. " ' All right — they are in regular form. There is the key of the sutler's shop, on that nail. Take possession.' "And my friend the captain emptied a second glass of the brandy, and made me a sign that I could go. " I bowed profoundly ; took the key ; and went and opened the sutler's shop ; after which I strolled out to look at the prisoners in the area. The sentinel had seen me visit the oflficer of the day, and go to the sutler's shop. Thus he did not interfere with me when I went into the area, as I was obviously a good Union man and an employee of the post. " Such was the manner in which I secured a private interview with Colonel Mohun : we could talk without the presence of a corporal ; and we soon arranged the plan for his escape. " I had determined to procure a Federal uniform, to be smug- gled in to him, and an hour afterward, I left him, promising to see him again as soon as I could visit Wilmington, and return with the intended disguise. "A strange piece of good fortune aided me, or rather accom- THE UNIFORM. I53 plished my purpose at once. I bad scarcely returned to tlie sut- ler's shop, and spread some blankets to sleep upon, when the offi- cer of the day came in, and I saw at a glance that he was half intoxicated, in consequence of the large amount of brandy which he had swallowed. In a thick and husky voice he cursed the 'stuff' vended at the post, extolled 'the article' I carried, and demanded another pull at the flask. I looked at him — saw that a little more would make him dead-drunk — and all at once re- solved on my plan. "This was," continued Mr. Nighthawk, with modest simplici- ty, and smiling as he spoke, " to make my friend, the officer of the day, dead-drunk, and then borrow his uniform ; and I suc- ceeded. In half an hour he was maudlin. In three-quarters of an hour, drunk. Five minutes afterward he fell out of his chair, and began to snore, where he lay. " I secured the door tightly, stripped off his uniform, then my own clothing ; put on his, and then replaced my own citizen's dress over all, concealed his cap and boots beneath my over- coat, wrapped the prostrate lieutenant in my blankets for fear he would take cold, and going out, locked the door and proceeded to the quarters of the prisoners. Again the sentinel took no notice of me. I found Colonel Mohun in his 'bunk.' Ten min- utes afterward he had replaced his gray uniform with that of the Federal lieutenant, and, watching the moment when the back of the sentinel was turned, we walked together toward the gate of the pen. " That was the moment of real danger. Outside the narrow gate another sentinel was posted, and the man might be person- ally acquainted with the officer of the day, or have noticed his appearance. Luckily, the guard had been relieved about an hour before — the new sentinel had not seen the officer of the day — and when Colonel Mohun put his head through the little window be- side the gate, ordering 'Open!' the gate flew open, the sentinel presented arms as he passed, and I followed modestly — the door banging-to behind us." * 1* * Fact. 15i MOHUN. XIX. THE NOTE. *' Thus the colonel was out of the pen," continned Nighthawk, smiling. " The rest was not very dangerous, unless tlie alarm were given. They might miss the locked-up officer — he might have heen seen to go into the sutler's shop — and I admonished Colonel Mohan, in a low tone, to proceed as rapidly as possible in a direction which I pointed out. "The path indicated led to a spot on the island where I had concealed a small boat among some willows — and, once across on the mainland, I hoped that the danger would be over, "In spite of my admonitions, Colonel Mohun took his time. He is a cool one! He even turned and walked toward the fort, which he carefully examined — counting the guns, observing the ditches, and the ground around it. "'That place could be taken, Nighthawkl' he said, with a laugh. And he continued to stroll around the place, receiving at every moment respectful salutes from passing soldiers, which he returned with the utmost coolness, and an air of authority which I never have seen surpassed. I declare to you, general, that it made the sweat burst out on my forehead, and it was fully an hour before we reached the boat. I sprung in and seized the oars, for I saw a dozen soldiers approaching us from the direction of the fort. "'For heaven's sake, sit down, colonel,' I exclaimed; 'in five minutes we will be lost!' " He did not reply. He was feeling in the pockets of the lieu- tenant's coat; and drew out a note-book with a pencil attached. Then, as the men came toward us, he began to write. I looked over his shoulder — a bad habit I acknowledge, general — and I read these words : — " ' Colonel Mohun, C. S. A., presents his compliments to the commanding officer of Fort Delaware, and recommends the 10- inch Columbiad in place of the 30-lb. Parrotts on the bastion near the southern angle of the work. THE KOTE. 15.^ " ' A3 Colonel M. is en route for Richmond via Wilmington, and the train will soon pass, he is compelled to refrain from other suggestions which occur to him. " ' The commandant of the post will pardon the want of cere- mony of his departure. This distressing separation is dictated by necessity.' " Nighthawk smiled as he repeated the words of Mohun's note. " Did you ever hear of a cooler hand, general ? But I must end my long story. The colonel wrote this note while the sol- diers were coming toward us. When they had come within ten steps, he beckoned to one of them-the man came up, saluting- and the colonel said, ' Take this note to the commandant-go at once.' "My heart had jumped to my throat, general! The next moment I drew a good long breath of real relief. The Federal soldier touched his cap, took the note, and went back toward the fort. ^ Without further delay, I pushed out and rowed across to the mainland, where we soon arrived. " Then we left the boat, struck into the fields, and pushed for the nearest station on the railroad. On the way, I could not re- frain from upbraiding the colonel with his imprudence. He only laughed, however, and we went on without stopping. An hour afterward we reached the station, and the northern train soon came. We got in, the cars started, and we were en route for Baltimore. Suddenly the dull sound of a cannon-shot came from the direction of Fort Delaware. A moment afterward came another, and then a third. " ' A prisoner has escaped from Fort Delaware,' said one of the passengers near us, raising his eyes from a newspaper. Colonel Mohun laughed, and said carelessly, without sinking his voice in the least, 'Ten to one they have found yoar friend, the lieuten- ant, Nighthawk I ' Such a man, general ! It was enough to make your blood run cold ! I thought /was cool, but I assure you I never imagined a man could equal that. ' " We reached Baltimore, made the connection with the train gomg west to Wheeling, and disembarked at Martinsbur- There the colonel procured a horse-rode to a friend's on the'opequan -changed his blue dress for a citizen's suit, and proceeded to 156 MOHUN. Staunton, thence to Richmond, and yesterday rejoined his regi- ment, near Chancellorsville." XX. GENERAL GRANT'S PRIVATE ORDER. Stuart kicked a log, which had fallen on the hearth, back into the fire, and said : — " "Well, Nighthawk, your narrative only proves one thing." " What, general ?" "That the writer who hereafter relates the true stories of this war, will be set down as a Baron Munchausen." "No doubt of that, general." " This escape of Colonel Mohun, for instance, will be dis- credited." " No matter, it took place ; but I have not told you what brought me over, general." "Over?" " Yes, across the Rapidan. I did not go from ^Nfartinsburg to Richmond with Colonel Mohun. I thought I would come down and see what was going on in Culpeper. Accordingly I crossed the Blue Ridge at Ashby's Gap, reached Culpeper — and last night crossed the Rapidan opposite Chancellorsville, where I sa^ Colonel Mohun, before whom I was carried as a spy." " You bring news, then ?" said Stuart, with sudden earnestness and attention. " Important news, general. The Federal army is about to move." " To cross ?" "Yes." "Where — when! — what force!" " One hundred and forty thousand of all arms. I answer the last question first. "^ " And — " GEM. GRANT'S PEIVATE ORDER 15' *'The army will advance in two columns. The right— of Sedgwick's and Warren's corps— will cross at Germanna Ford. The left, consisting of Hancock's corps, at Ely's ford below' They have pontoon and bridge trains— and the movement will commence at midnight on the third— two days from now." Stuart knit his brows, and buried his hand in his beard. Sud denly he called out to the orderly :— " Have two horses saddled in five minutes!" And seizing his hat, he said : — " Get ready to ride to General Lee's head-quarters with me Nighthawk!" ' The clerical looking emissary put on his respectable black hat. "You are certain of this intelligence?" Stuart said, turning with a piercing glance to him. " Quite certain, general," said Mr. Nighthawk, serenely. " You were in the camps ?" *' In all, I believe, and at army head-quarters." " You overheard your intelligence ?" "No, I captured it, general." "How?" "A courier was sent in haste— I saw the commander-in-chief speaking to him. I followed— came up with him in a hollow of the woods— and was compelled to blow his brains out, as he would not surrender. I then searched his body, and found what I wanted. There it is, general." And Nighthawk drew forth a paper. " What is it?" exclaimed Stuart. ^ "Grant's confidential order to his corps commanders, general, directing the movements of his army." Stuart seized it, read it hastily, and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. Ten minutes afterward he was going at full speed, accompanied by Nighthawk, toward General Lee's head- quarters. 158 MOHUN. XXL " YIRGIXIA EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY I" Soon after daylight, on the next morning, Stuart was up, and writing busily at liis desk. He was perfectly cool, as always, and his manner when I went in exhibited no sort of flurry. But the couriers going and com- ing with dispatches indicated clearly that " something was in the wind." I was seated by the fireplace when Stuart finished a dispatch and came toward me. The next moment he threw himself upon a chair, leaned his head upon ray shoulder, and began to caress one of his dogs, who leaped into his lap. " Well, Surry, old fellow, we are going to get into the saddle. Look out for your head !" "" Excellent advice," I replied. " I recommend you to follow it. "You think I expose myself, do you?" "In the most reckless manner." "For instance — come, an instance!" he laughed. I saw Stuart was talking to rest himself. " Well, at Mine Run, when you rode up to that fence lined with sharp-shooters — and they fired on us at ten paces, nearly." " In fact, you might have shot a marble- at them — but I am not afraid of any ball aimed at me."* " Then you believe in chance^ general ?" " There is no chance, Surry," he said, gravely. " God rules over all things, and not a sparrow, we are told, can fall without his permission. How can I, or you, then ?" " You are right, general, and I have always been convinced of your religious faith." "I believe in God and our Saviour, with all my heart," said Stuart, solemnly. "I may not show it, but I feel deeply." " On the contrarv, vou show it — to me at least — even in trifles," * His words. EVERY MA^ TO DO HIS DUTY. 159 I said, moved by his earnestness. " Do you remember the other day, when an officer uttered a sneer at the expense of a friend of his who had turned preacher ? You replied that the calling of a minister was the noblest in which any human being could en- gage * — and I regretted at that moment, that the people who laugh at you, and charge you with vicious things, could not hear you." Stuart shook his head, smiling with a sadness on his lips which I had never seen before. " They would not believe me, my dear Surry ; not one would give me credit for a good sentiment or a pure principle ! Am I not a drunkard, because my face is burned red by the sun and the wind ? And yet I never touched spirit in all my life ! I do not know the taste of it! * Am I not given to women? And yet, God knows I am innocent, — that I recoil in disgust from the very thought! Am I not frivolous, trifling, — laughing at all things, reverencing nothing? And yet my laughter is only from high health and animal spirits. I am young and robust ; it is natural to me to laugh, as it is to be pleased with bright faces and happy voices, with colors, and music, and approbation. I am not as religious as I ought to be, and wish, with all my heart, I had the deep and devout piety of that good man and great military genius,* Stonewall Jackson. I can lay no claim to it, you see, Surry ; I am only a rough soldier, at my hard work. I am terribly busy, and my command takes every energy I possess ; but I find time to read my Bible and to pray. I pray for pardon and forgiveness, and try to do my duty, and leave the rest to God. If God calls me — and He may call me very soon — I hope I will be ready, and be able to say, ' Thy will be done." I expect to be killed in this war;* — Heaven knows, I would have my right Land chopped ofi" at the wrist to stop it ! *— but I do not shrink from the ordeal before me, and I am ready to lay down my life for my country." * Stuart paused, and leaned his arm upon the rude shelf above the fireplace, passing his hand over his forehead, as was habitual with him. "A hard campaign is coming, Surry," he said, at length, more cheerfully ; " I intend to do my duty in it, and deserve the * His words. 160 MOHUN. good opinion of the •world, if I do not secure it. I have perilled mv life manv times, and shall not shrink from it in future. I am a Virginian, and I intend to live or die for Old Virginia! The tug is coming; the enemy are about to come over and 'try again !' But we will meet them, and fight them like men, Surry! Our army is small, but with strong hands and brave hearts much can be done. We must be up and doing, and do our duty to the handle.* For myself, I am going to fight whatever is before me, — to win victory, with God's blessing, or die trying! Once more, Surry, remember that we are fighting for our old mother, and that Virginia expects every man to do his duty!" His face glowed as he spoke ; in his dazzling blue eyes burned the fire of an unconquerable resolution, a courage that nothing seemed able to crush. Years have passed since then, a thousand scenes have swept before me ; but still I see the stalwart cavalier, with his proud forehead raised, and hear his sonorous voice exclaim : — " Virginia expects every man to do his duty!" * XXII. WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTOX. This conversation took place at an early hour of the morning. Two hours afterward, I was in the saddle and riding toward Chancellorsville, with the double object of inspecting the pickets and taking Mohun his commission. I have described in my former Memoirs that melancholy country of the Wilderness; its unending thickets; its roads, narrow and deserted, which seem to wind on forever ; the desolate fields, here and there covered with stunted bushes; the owls flapping their dusky wings ; the whip-poor-will, crying in the jungle ; and the moccasin gliding stealthily amid the ooze, covered with its green scum. * His words. WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTON. IGI Strange and sombre country! lugubrious shades where death lurked! Already two great armies had clatched therein May, 1863. Now, in May, 'B'i, the tangled thicket was again to thun- der; men were going to grapple here in a mad wrestle even more desperate than the former! Two roads stretch from Orange Court-House to Chancellors- ville — the old turnpike, and the plank road — running through Yerdiersville. I took the latter, followed the interminable wooden pathway through the thicket, and toward evening came to the point where the Ely's Ford road comes in near Chancellorsville. Here, sur- rounded by the rotting weapons, bones and skulls of the gre.-it battle already fought, I found Mohun ready for the battle that was coming. He commanded the regiment on picket opposite Ely's Ford ; and was pointed out to me at three hundred yards from an old torn down house which still, remains there, I fancy. Mohun had dismounted, and, leaning against the trunk of a tree, was smoking a cigar. He was much thinner and paler than when I had last seen him ; but his eye was brilliant and piercing, his carriage erect and proud. In his fine new uniform, replacing that left at Fort Delaware, and his brown hat, decorated with a black feather, he was the model of a cavalier, ready at a mo- ment's warning to meet the enemy. We exchanged a close grasp of the hand. Something in this man had attracted me, and from acquaintances we Had become friends, though Mohun had never given me his confidence. I informed him of Nighthawk's visit and narrative, congratu- lated him on his escape, and then presented him with his appoint- ment to the grade of brigadier-general. ''Hurrah for Stuart! He is a man to count on!" exclaimed Mohun, " and here inclosed is the order for me to take command of four regiments !" " I congratulate you, Mohnn." "I hope to do good work with them, my dear Surry — and I think they are just in time." With w^hich words Mohun put the paper in his pocket. " You know the latest intelligence ?" he said. 1(^2 MOHUN. " Yes ; but do not let us talk of it. Tell me something about yourself — but first listen to a little narrative from me." And T described the visit which I had made with Tom Herbert to the house near Buckland ; the scene between Darke and his companion ; and, to keep back nothing, repeated the substance of their conversation. Mohun knit his brows ; then burst into a laugh. ""Well!" he said, "so those two amiable characters are still bent on making mince-meat of me, are they ? Did you ever hear any thing like it ? They are perfect tigers, thirsting for blood!" "Nothing more nor less," I said ; "the whole thing is like a romance." "Is it not?" " A perfect labyrinth." " The very word !" " And I have not a trace of a kev." Mohun looked at me for some moments in silence. He was evidently hesitating; and letting his eyes fall, played with the hilt of his sword. Then he suddenly looked up. "I have a confidence to make you, Surry," he said, "and would like to make it this very day. But I cannot. You have no doubt divined that Colonel Darke is my bitter enemy — that his companion is no less, even more, bitter — and some day I will tell you what all that means. My life has been a strange one. As was said of Randolph of Roanoke's, ' the fictions of romance cannot surpass it." These two persons alluded to it — I under- stand more than you possibly can — but I do not understand the allusions made to General Davenant. I am not the suitor of his daughter — or of any one. I am not in love — I do not intend to be — to be frank with you, friend, I have little confidence in women — and you no doubt comprehend that this strange one whom you have thrice met, on the Rappahannock, in Pennsylva- nia, and near Buckland, is the cause." " She seems to be a perfect viper." "Is she not? You would say so, more than ever, if I told you what took place at Warrenton." WHAT OCCURRED AT WARRENTON. 163 And again Mohun's brows were knit together. Then his bit- ter expression changed to laughter. " What took place at Warrenton !" I said, looking at him in- tently. " Exactly, mj dear friend — it was a real comedy. Only a poignard played a prominent part in the affair, and you know poignards belong exclusively to tragedy." Mohun uttered these words with his old reckless satire. A sort of grim and biting humor was plain in his accents. " A poniard — a tragedy — tell me about it, Mohun," I said. He hesitated a moment. " Well, I will do so," he said, at length. "It will amuse you, my guest, while dinner is getting ready." " I am listening." " Well, to go back. You remember my fight with Colonel Darke near Buckland ?" " Certainly; and I was sure that you had killed each other." " You were mistaken. He is not dead, and you see I am not. He was wounded in the throat, but my sabre missed the artery, and he was taken to a house near at hand, and thence to hospital, where he recovered. My own wound was a bullet through the chest ; and this gave me so much agony that I could not be carried in my ambulance farther than Warrenton, where I was left with some friends who took good care of me. Meanwhile, General Meade had again advanced and occupied the place — I was discovered, and removed as soon as possible to the Federal hospital, where they could have me under guard. Faith ! they are smart people — our friends the Yankees ! They are convinced that ' every little helps,' and they had no idea of allowing that tremendous South- ern paladin. Colonel Mohun, to escape ! So I was sent to hospital. The removal caused a return of fever — I was within an inch of the grave — and this brings me to the circumstance that I wish to relate for your amusement. " For some days after my removal to the Federal hospital, I was delirious, but am now convinced that much which I then took for the wanderings of a fevered brain, was real. "I used to lie awake a great deal, and one gloomy night I saw. or dreamed I saw, as I then supposed, that woman entev my ward, 164: MOHUIT. in company with the surgeon. She bent over me, glared npon me with those dark eves, which you no doubt remember, and then drawing back said to the surgeon : — " ' Will he live V " " ' Impossible to say, madam,' was the reply. ' The ball passed through his breast, and although these wounds are almost always mortal, men do now and then recover from them.' "'Will this one?' " ' I cannot tell you. madam, his constitution seems powerfal.' "I saw her turn as he spoke, and fix those glaring eyes on me again. Thev were enough to burn a hole in vou, Surrv, and made me feel for some weapon. But there was none — and the scene here terminated — both retired. The next night, however, it was re- newed. This time the surgeon felt my pulse, touched my forehead, placed his ear to my breast to listen to the action of the heart, and rising up said, in reply to madam's earqest glance of inquiry: — "'Yes, I am sure he will live. You can give yourself no fur- ther anxiety about your cousin, madam.' " Her cousin f That was not bad, yon see. She had gained access, as I ascertained from some words of their conversation, by representing herself as my cousin. I was a member of her family who had 'gone astray' and embraced the cause of the rebellion, but was still dear to her! Womanlv heart! 'clin£]ring affection! not even the sin of the prodigal cousin could sever the tender chord of her love ! I had wandered from the right path — fed on husks with the Confederate swine; but I was wounded — had come back ; should the fatted calf remain unbutchered, -and the loving welcome be withheld? " ' You can give yourself no further uneasiness ahout your cousin^ madam P " Such was the assurance of the surgeon, and he turned away to other patients, of whom there were, however, very few in the hospital, and none near me. As he turned his back, madam looked at me. Her face was really diabolical, and I thouglit at the moment that she was a nicrhtmare — that I dreamed her! Closing my eyes to shut out the vision, I kept them thus shut for some moments. When I reopened them she was gone. " Well, the surgeon's predictions did not seem likely to be veri- WHAT OCCUEPwED AT ^ARP.EXTOX. 165 fied. Mr fever retiirnecl. Thronghont the succeeding day I turned and tossed on ray couch ; as night came, I had some hide- ous dreams. A storm was raging without, and the rain falling in torrents. The building trembl-ed, the windows rattled — it was a night of nights for some deviPs work ; and I remember laughing in my fever, and muttering, ' Now is the time for delirium, bad dreams, and ugly shapes, to flock around me!' " I fell into a doze at last, and had, as I thought, a decidedly bad dream — for I felt certain that I was dreaming, and that what I witnessed was the. sport of my fancy. What I saw, or seemed to see, was this: the door opened slowly — a head was thrust in, and remained motionless for an instant; then the head moved, a body followed; madam, the lady of the dark eyes, glided stealthily toward my cot. It was enough to make one shudder, Surry, to have seen the stealthy movement of that phantom. I gazed at it through my half-closed eyelids — saw the raidnight eyes burning in the white face half covered by a shawl thrown over the head — and, under that covering, the right hand of the phantom grasped something which I could not make out. "In three quick steps it was beside me. I say it, for the figure resembled that of a ghost, or some horrible thing. From the eyes two flames seemed to dart, the lips opened, and I heard, in a low mutter : — " 'Ah ! he is going to recover, then !' "As the words left the phantom's lips, it reached my cot at a bound ; something gleamed aloft, and I started back only in time to avoid the sharp point of a poniard, which grazed ray head and nearly buried itself in the pillow on which I lay. " Well, I started up and endeavored to seize my assailant ; but she suddenly broke away from me, still clutching her weapon. Her clothing was torn from her person — she recoiled toward the door — and I leaped from my couch to rush after and arrest her. I had not the strength to do so, however. I had scarcely taken three steps when I began to stagger. "'Murderess!' I exclaimed, extending ray arms to arrest her flight. " It was useless. A few feet further I reeled — my head seemed turning round — and again shouting 'Murderess!' I fell at full 166 mohu:n". length on the floctr, at tlie moment when the woman disap- peared. " That was curious, was it not? It would have been a tragical dream — it was more tragical in being no dream at all, but a reality. What had taken place was simple, and easy to under- stand. That woman had come thither, on this stormy night, to murder me ; and she had very nearly succeeded. Had she found me asleep, I should never have waked. Fortunately, I was awake. Some noise frightened her, and she disappeared. A moment afterward one of the nurses came, and finally the sur- geon. " "When I told hira what had taken place, he laughed. " * Well, colonel, go back to bed,' he said, 'such dreams retard your recovery more than every thing else.' "I obeyed, without taking the trouble to contradict him. My breast was bleeding again, and I did not get over the excitement for some days. The phantom did not return. I slowly recover- ed, and was taken in due time to Fort Delaware — the rest you know. '•I forgot to tell you one thing. The surgeon almost persuaded me that I had been the victim of nightmare. Unfortunately, however, for the theory of the worthy, I found a deep hole in my pillow, where the poniard had entered. " So you see it was madam, and not her ghost, who had done me the honor of a \asit, Surry." XXIII. THE GRATE OF ACHMED. An hour afterward I had dined with Mohnn at his head-quar- ters, in the woods ; mounted our horses ; and were making our way toward the Rapidan to inspect the pickets. This consumed two hours. We found nothing stirring. As THE GRAVE OF ACHMED. 167 snnset approached, we retraced our steps toward Chancellorsville. I had accepted Mohun's invitation to spend the night with hira. As I rode on, the country seemed strangely familiar. All at once I recognized here a tree, there a stump — we were passing over the road which I had followed first in April, 1861, and again in August, 1862, when I came so unexpectedly upon Fen- wick, and heard his singular revelation. We had been speaking of Mordaunt, to whose brigade Mohun's regiment belonged, and the young officer had grown enthusiastic, extolling Mordaunt as ' one of the greatest soldiers of the army, under whom it was an honor to serve.' ""Well," I said, "there is a spot near here which he knows well, and where a strange scene passed on a night of May, 1863." "Ah ! you know the country, then?" said Mohun. "Perfectly well." " What are you looking at V " That hill yonder, shut in by a thicket. There is a house there." And I spurred on, followed by Mohun. In five minutes we reached the brush-fence ; our horses easily cleared it, and we rode up the hill toward the desolate-looking mansion. I surveyed it intently. It was unchanged, save that the porch seemed rotting away, and the window-shutters about to fall — that on the window to the right hung by a single hinge. It was the one through which I had looked in August, 1862. There was the same door through which I had burst in upon Fenwick and his companion. I dismounted, threw my bridle over a stunted shrub, and ap- proached the house. Suddenly I stopped. At ten paces from me, in a little group of cedars, a man was kneeling on a grave, covered with tangled grass. At the rattle of my sabre he rose, turned round — it was Mordaunt. In a moment we had exchanged a pressure of the hand ; and then turning to the grave : — " That is the last resting-place of poor Achmed," he said ; adding, in his deep, grave voice : — " You know how he loved me, Surry." 168 MOnUN. "And liow you loved Mm^ Mordannt. I can understand yonr presence at his grave, my dear friend. Mordaunt sighed, then saluted Mohun, who approached. "This spot," he said, "is well known to Colonel Surry and myself, Mohun." Then turning to me, he added : — " I found a melancholy spectacle awaiting me here." " Other than Achmed's grave?" " Yes ; come, and I will show you." And he led the way into the house. As I entered the squalid and miserable mansion, the siglit which greeted me made me recoil. On a wretched bed lay the corpse of a woman ; and at a glance, I recognized the woman Parkins, who had played so tragic a part in the history of Mordaunt. The face was hideously attenu- ated ; the eyes were open and staring ; the lower jaw had fallen. In the rigid and bony hand was a dry and musty crust of bread. " She must have starved to death here," said Mordaunt, gazing at the corpse. And, approaching it, he took the crust from the fingers. As he did so, the teeth seemed grinning at him. "Poor creature!" he said; "this crust was probably all that remained to her of the price of her many crimes! I pardon her» and will have her buried !" As Mordaunt turned away, I saw him look at the floor. " There is Achmed's blood," he said, pointing to a stain on the plank ; " and the other is the blood of Fenwick, who was buried near his victim." "I remember," I murmured. And letting my chin fall upon my breast, I returned in thought to the strange scene which the spot recalled so vividly. " There is but one other actor in that drama of whom I know nothing, Mordaunt!" " You mean " " Violet Grafton." Mordaunt raised his head quickly. His eyes glowed with a serene sweetness. " She is my wife," he said ; " the joy and sunlight of my life ! I no longer read Les Miserdbles^ and sneer at my species — I no A NIGHT BIRD. 169 longer scowl, Surry, and try to rush against the bullet that is to end me. God has rescued a lost life in sending me one of his angels ; and it was she who made me promise to come hither and pray on the grave of our dear Achraed !" Mordaunt turned toward the door as he spoke, and inviting me to ride with him, left the mansion. As I had agreed to stay with Mohun, I was obliged to decline. Five minutes afterward he had mounted, and with a salute, the tall form disappeared in the forest. 'We set out in turn, and were soon at Mohun 's bivouac. XXIV. A NIGHT BIRD. I SHAEED Mohun's blankets, and was waked by the sun shin- ing in ray face. My companion had disappeared, but I had scarcely risen when he was seen approaching at full gallop. Throwing himself from his horse, he grasped ray hand, his face beaming. ''All right, Surry!" he exclaimed; " I have seen Mordaunt; my command is all arranged; I have four superb regiments; and they are already in the saddle.'' '' I congratulate you, my dear general ! Make good use of them — and I think you are going to have the opportunity at once." " You are right — the enemy's cavalry are drawn up on the north bank of the river." " Any firing in front ?" " They are feeling at all the fords." " Are you going there ?" '' At once." " I will go with you." And I mounted my horse which stood saddled near by. 170 MOHUN. Swallowing some mouthfuls of bread and beef as we rode on, we soon reached Mohun's command. It consisted of four regi- ments, drawn up in column, ready to move — and at sight of the voung sahreur, the men raised a shout. Mohun saluted with drawn sabre, and galloped to the front. A moment afterward the bugle sounded, and the column ad- vanced toward the Rapidan, within a mile of which it halted — Mohun and myself riding forward to reconnoitre at Germanna Ford, directly in our front. The pickets were engaged, firing at each other across the river. On the northern bank were seen long columns of Federal cavalry, drawn up as though about to cross. I rode with Mohun to the summit of the lofty hill near the ford, and here, seated on his horse beneath a tree, we found Mordaunt. It was h;ird to realize that, on the evening before, I had seen this stern and martial figure, kneeling in prayer upon a grave — had heard the brief deep voice grow musical when he spoke of his wife. But habit is every thing. On the field, Mor- daunt was the soldier, and nothing but the soldier. " You see," he said, " the game is about to open," pointing to the Federal cavalry. " You remember this spot, and that hill yonder, I think." ''Yes," I replied, "and your charge there' when we captured their artillery in August, '62." As he spoke, a dull firing, which we had heard for some mo- ments from the direction of Ely's Ford, grew more rapid. Five minutes afterward, an officer was seen approaching from the Bide of the firing, at full speed. "When he was within a hundred yards, I recognized Harry Mordaunt. He was unchanged ; his eyes still sparkled, his plume floated, his lips were smiling. He greeted me warmly, and then turned to General Mordaunt, and reported the enemy attempting to cross at Ely's. " I will go, then ; will you ride with me, Surry? Keep a good look out here, Mohun." . I accepted Mordaunt's invitation, and in a moment we were galloping, accompanied by Harry, toward Ely's. "Glad to see you again, colonel!" exclaimed the young man, A NIGHT BIRD. 171 in Ins gay voice, " you remind me of old times, and a young lady •was speaking of you lately." "A certain Miss Fitzhugh, I -will wager !" *' There's no such person, colonel." "Ah! you are married!" "Last spring; but I might as well be single! That's the worst of this foolishness, — I wish they would stop it ! I don't mind hard tack, or fighting, or sleeping in the rain ; what I do mind is never being able to go home ! I wish old Grant would go hoYne and see his wife, and let me go and see mine / We could then come back, and blaze away at each other with some satisfaction!" Harry was chattering all the way, and I encouraged him to talk ; his gay voice was delightful. "We talked of a thousand things, but they interested me more than they would interest the reader, and I pass on to matters more important. Pushing rapidly toward Ely's, we soon arrived, and found the enemy making a heavy demonstration there. It lasted through- out the day, and I remained to witness the result. At sunset, however, the firing stopped, and, declining Mordaunt's invitation to share the blankets of his bivouac, I set out on my way back to Orange. Night came almost before I was aware of it, and found me following the Brock road to get on the Orange plank road. Do you know the Brock road, reader? and have you ever rid- den over it on a lowering night ? If so, you have experienced a peculiar sensation. It is impossible to imagine any thing more lugubrious than these strange thickets. In their depths the owl hoots, and the whippoorwill cries ; the stunted trees, with their gnarled branches, are like fiends reaching out spectral arms to seize the wayfarer by the hair. Desolation reigns there, and you unconsciously place your hand on your pistol as you ride along, to be ready for some mysterious and unseen enemy. At least, I did so on that night. I had now penetrated some distance, and had come near the lonely house where so many singular events had occurred. I turned my head and glanced over my shoulder, when, to my surprise, I saw a light glimmering through the window. What 172 . MOHUN. was its origin ? The house was certainly uninhabited, even by the dead — for Mordaont had informed me that a detail had, that morning, buried the corpse. There was but one means of solving the mystery, and I leaped the fence, riding straight toward the house ; soon reaching it, I dismounted and threw open the door. "What should greet my eyes, but the respectable figure of Mr. Kighthawk, seated before a cheerful blaze, and calmly smoking his pipe I XXV. THE APPOIXT:!krEXT. As I entered, Mr. Nighthawk rose politely, without exhibiting the least mark of astonishment. "Good evening, colonel," he said, smiling, "I am glad to see you." " And I, never more surprised to see any one than you, here, Islghthawk!" '' Why so, colonel ?" I could not help laughing at his air of mild inquiry. "Did I not leave you at our head-quarters?" "That was two days ago, colonel." " And this is your residence, perhaps ?" " I have no residence, colonel ; but am here, temporarily, on a little matter of business." "Ah! a matter of business!" "I think it might be called so, colonel." " Which it would be indiscreet to reveal to me, however. That is a pity, for I am terribly curious, my dear Nighthawk!" Nighthawk looked at me benignly, with a philanthropic smile. "I have not the least objection to informing you, colonel. You are a gentleman of discretion, and have another claim on my respect." "What is that?" THE APPOINTMENT. 173 " You are a friend of Colonel Mohun's." " A very warm one." " Then you can command me ; and I will tell yon at once that I am awaiting the advance of General Grant." "Ah ! Now I begin to understand." ''I was sure you would at the first word I uttered, colonel. General Grant will cross the Rapidan to-night — by to-morrow evening his whole force will probably be over — and I expect to procure some important information before I return to General Stuart. To you I am Mr. Nighthawk, an humble friend of the cause, employed in secret business, — to General Grant I shall be an honest farmer, of Union opinions, who has suffered from the depredations of his troops, and goes to head-quarters for redress. You see they have already stripped me of every thing," continued Mr. Nighthawk, waving his arm and smiling; "not a cow, a hog, a mule, or a mouthful of food has been left me. They have de- stroyed the very furniture of my modest dwelling, and I am cast, a mere pauper, on the cold charities of the world!" Mr. Nighthawk had ceased smiling, and looked grave ; while it was I who burst into laughter. His eyes were raised toward heaven, with an expression of meek resignation ; he spread out both hands with the eloquence of Mr. Pecksniff; and presented the appearance of a virtuous citizen accepting meekly the most trying misfortunes. When I had ceased laughing, I said : — *' I congratulate you on your histrionic abilities, Nighthawk. They deserve to be crowned with success. But how did vou dis- cover this house?" " I was acquainted with its former owner, Mrs. Parkins. She was a sister of a friend of mine, whom I think you have seen, colonel." " What friend ?" " His name is Swartz, colonel." " Not the Federal spy ?" " The same, colonel." " Whom we saw last in the house between Carlisle and Gettys- burg?" "I saw him the other day," returned Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly. 174 MOnUN. "Is it possible!" " Near Ciilpeper Court-Honse, colonel. And, to let you into a little secret, I expect to see hira to-night." I looked at the speaker with bewilderment. "That man will be here!" " If he keeps his appointment, colonel." "You have an appointment?" " Yes, colonel." " In tliis house ?" "To-night." ""Vrith what object, in heaven's name!" Nighthawk hesitated for some moments before replying. " The fact is, colonel," he said, " that I inadvertently mentioned my appointment with Swartz without reflecting how singular it must appear to you, unless I gave you some explanation. But I am quite at my ease with you — you are a friend of Colonel Mohun's — and I will explain as much of my business as propriety will permit. To be brief, I am anxious to procure a certain doc- ument in Swartz's possession." "A certain document?" I said, looking intently at the speaker. " Exactly, colonel," "^hich Swartz has?" " Precisely, colonel." "And which he stole from the papers of Colonel Darke on the night of Mohun's combat with Darke, in the house near Car- lisle ?" Mr. Nighthawk looked keenly at me, in turn. "Ah! you know that!" he said, quickly. "I saw him steal it, through the window, while the woman's back was turned." "I am deeply indebted to you, colonel," said Mr. Nighthawk, gravely, " for informing me of this fact, which, I assure you, is iinportsnt. Swartz swore to me that he had the paper, and had procured it in that manner, but I doubted seriously whether he was not deceiving me. He is a Tery consummate rascal, knows the value of that document, and my appointment with him to- night is with an eye to its purchase from him." "Do vou tliink he will come?" THE APPOIXTMENT. 175 " I think so. He "W'ould sell his soul for gold." "And that woman? he seems to be her friend," "He would sell her for silver /" After utterin;r which hon mot,, Mr. Xighthawk smiled. This man puzzled me beyond expVession. His stealthy move- ments were strange enough — it was singular to meet him in this lonely house — but more singular still was the business which had brought him. What was that paper? Why did Nighthawk wish to secure it ? I gave up the inquiry in despair. "Well," I said, "I will not remain longer; I might scare off your friend, and to eaves-drop is out of the question, even if you were willing that I should be present." " In fact, colonel, I shal 1 probably discuss some very private matters with my friend Swartz, so that — " " You prefer I should go." Mr. Nighthawk smiled; he was too polite to say " yes." "You are not afraid to meet your friend in this lonely place?" I said, rising. "Not at all, colonel." "You are armed?" Mr. Nighthawk opened his coat, and showed me a brace of re- volvers. "I have these, but they are unnecessary, colonel." "Unnecessary?" " I have an understanding with Swartz, and he with me." " What is that ?" "That we shall not employ the carnal weapon; only destroy each other by superior generalship." "You speak in enigmas, Nighthawk!" " And yet, my meaning is very simple. If I can have Swartz arrested and hung, or he me, it is all fair. But we have agreed not to fight." "So, if you caught him to-night, you could have him hung as a spy?" "Yes, colonel; but nothing would induce me to betray him." "Ah!" "I have given him my parol, that he shall have safe con- duct 1" 8 176 MOnUN. I laughed, bade Nighthawk good-bye, and left him smiling as I had found him. In ten minutes I was again on the Brock road, riding on through the darkness, between the impenetrable thick- ets. XXVL STUAPwT SINGS. My reflections were by no means gay. The scenes at the lonely house had not been cheerful and mirth-inspiring. That grinning corpse, with the crust of bread in the bony fin- gers; that stain of blood on the floor; the grave of Achmed ; lastly, the appointment of the mysterious Nighthawk with the Federal spy ; all were fantastic and lugubrious. Who was Nighthawk, and what was his connection with Mo- hun ? "Who was Mohun, and what had been his previous history ? Who was this youth of unbounded wealth, as Nighthawk had in- timated, in whose life personages supposed to be dead, but still alive, had figured? " Decidedly, Mohun and Nighthawk are two enigmas!" I mut- tered, "and I give the aflfair up."" "With which words I spurred on, and soon debouched on the Orange plank road, leading toward Mine Run. As I entered it, I heard hoof-strokes on the resounding boards, and a company of horsemen cantered toward me through the darkness. As they came, I heard a gay voice singing the lines : — "I wake up in the morning, I wake up in the morning, I wake up in the morning, Before the break o" day !" There was no mistaking that gay sound. It was Stuart, riding at the head of his staff and couriers. In a moment he had come up, and promptly halted me. " Ah ! that's you, Surry !" he exclaimed with a laugh, " wan- dering about here in the Wilderness I What news?" STUART SINGS. 177 1 reported the state of things in front, and Stuart exclaimed : — " All right ; we are ready for them ! Coon Hollow is evacu- ated—head-quarters are in the saddle! Hear that whippoorwill! It is a good omen. "Whip 'em well! Whip 'em well! — and we'll do it too!"* Stuart laughed, and began to sing — " Never mind the weather But get over double trouble I We are bound for the Happy land of Lincoln 1" As the martial voice rang through the shadowy thickets, I thought, " How fortunate it is that the grave people are not here to witness this singular ' want of dignity ' in the great commander of Lee's cavalrv I" Those "grave people" would certainly have rolled their eyes, and groaned, " Oh ! how undignified !" "Was not the occasion sol- emn ? "Was it not sinful to laugh and sing ? No, messieurs ! It was right ; and much better than rolling the eyes, and staying at home and groaning ! Stuart was going to fight hard — meanwhile he sang gayly. Heaven had given him animal spirits, ^nd he laughed in the face of danger. He laughed and sang on this night when he was going to clash against Grant, as he had laughed and sung when he had clashed against Hooker — when his proud plume floated in front of Jackson's veterans, and he led them over the breastworks at Chancellorsville, singing, " Old Joe Hooker, will you come out of the "Wilderness !" Stuart cantered on : we turned into the Brock road, and I found myself retracing my steps toward the Rapidan. As I passed near the lonely house, I cast a glance toward the glimmering light. Had Nighthawk's friend arrived? We soon reached Ely's Ford, and I conducted Stuart to Mor- daunt's bivouac, which I had left at dusk. He had just wrapped his cloak around him, and laid down under a tree, ready to mount at a moment's warning. ""What news, Mordaunt?" said Stuart, grasping his hand. " Some fighting this evening, but it ceased about nightfall, general." * His words. 178 MOHUN. Stuart looked toward the river, and listened attentively. "I hear nothing stirring.'' And passing his hand through his beard he muttered half to himself: — " I wonder if Grant can have made any change in his ])ro- gramme ?" " The order at least was explicit — that brought by Niglit- hawk," I said. Stuart turned toward me suddenly. "I wonder where he could be found ? If I knew, I would send him over the river to-night, to bring me a reliable report of every thing." I drew the general aside. "lean tell you where to find Nighthawk." "AVhere." "Shall I bring him?" "Like lightning, Surry! I wish to dispatch him at once!" Without reply I wheeled my horse, and went back rapidly to- ward the house in the Wilderness, I soon reached the spot, rode to the window, and called to Nighthawk, who came out promptly at my call. " Your friend has not arrived ?" I said. " He will not come till midnight, colonel." " When, I am afraid, he will not see you, Nighthawk — you are wanted. And I explained my errand. Niglithawk sighed — it was easy to see that he was much disappointed. "Well, colonel," he said, in a resigned tone, " I must give up ray private business — duty calls. I will be ready in a moment." And disappearing, he put out the light — issued forth in rear of the house — mounted a horse concealed in the bushes — and re- joined me in front. " Swartz will not know what to think," he said, as we rode rapidly toward the river; "he knows I am the soul of punc- tuality, and this failure to keep my appointment will much dis- tress him." "Distress him, Nighthawk?" " He will think some harm has happened to me." MOHUN PwIDES. 179 And Mr. Nighthawk smiled so sadly, that I could not refrain from laughter. We soon reached the spot where Stuart awaited us. At sight of Nighthawk he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction, and ex- plained in brief words his wishes. ''That will he easy, general," said Nighthawk. " Can you procure a Federal uniform ?" "I always travel with one, general." " And Mr. Nighthawk unstrapped the bundle behind his sad- dle, drawing forth a blue coat and irowsers, which in five minutes had replaced his black clothes. Before us stood one of the " blue birds." Nighthawk was an unmistakable "Yankee." Stuart gave him a few additional instructions, and having listened with the air of a man who is engraving the words he hears upon his memory, Nighthawk disappeared in the dark- ness, toward the private crossing, where he intended to pass the river. Half an hour afterward, Stuart was riding toward Germanna Ford. As we approached, Mohun met us, and reported all quiet. Stuart then turned back in the direction of Chancellorsville, where Nighthawk was to report to him, before daylight, if possible. . XXVII. MOHUN RIDES. I LiNGEEED behind a moment to exchange a few words with Mohun. Something told me that he was intimately connected with the business which had occasioned thfe appointment between Nighthawk and Swartz — and at the first words which I uttered, I saw that I was not mistaken. Mohun raised his head quickly, listened with Uie closest at- tention, and when I had informed him of every thing, said abruptly : — "Well, I'll keep Nighthawk's appointment for him!" ISO ^[ oil UN. "Yon!" I said. '' Yes, my dear Surry — this is a matter of more importance thaa you think. The business will not take long — the enemy will not be moving before daylight — and you said, I think, that the ap- pointment w^as for midnight?" " Yes." Mohun drew out his watch ; scratched a match which he drew from a small metal case. "Just eleven," he said; "there is time to arrive before mid- night, if we ride well — will you show me the way?" I saw that he was bent on his scheme, and said no more. In a few moments we were in the saddle, and riding at full speed toward the house where the meeting was to take place. Mohun rode like the wild huntsman, and mile after mile dis- appeared behind us — flitting away beneath the rapid hoofs of our horses. During the whole ride he scarcely opened his lips. He seemed to be reflecting deeply, and to scarcely realize my presence. At last we turned into the Brock road, and were soon near the lonely house. " We have arrived," I said, leaping the brushwood fence. And we galloped up the knoll toward the house, which was as dark and silent as the grave. Dismounting and concealing our horses in the bushes, we opened the door. Mohun again had recourse to his match-case, a.nd lit the candle left by Xighthawk on an old pine table, and glanced at his watch. "Midnight exactly !" he said; "we have made a good ride of it,, Surry." " Yes ; and now that I have piloted you safely, Mohun, I will discreetly retire." " Why not remain, if you think it will amuse you, my dear friend ?" "But you are going to discuss your private affairs, are you not ?" " They are not private from you, since I have promised to relate my whole life to you." " Then I remain ; but do you think our friend will keep his appointment ?" THE SPY. 181 "There he is," said Mohun, as hoof-strokes were heard with- out. " He is punctual." XXVIII. THE SPY. A MOMENT afterward we heard the new-comer dismount. Then his steps were heard on the small porch. All at once his figure appeared in the doorway. It was Swartz. The fat person, the small eyes, the immense double chin, and the chubby fingers covered with pinchbeck rings, were unmistakable. He was clad in citizens' clothes, and covered with dust as from a long ride. Mohun rose. " Come in, my dear Mr. Swartz," he said coolly ; " you see we await you." The spy recoiled. It was plain that he was astonished beyond measure at seeing us. He threw a glance behind him in the direction of his horse, and seemed about to fly. Mohun quietly drew his revolver, and cocked it, "Fear nothing, my dear sir," he said, "and, above all, do not attempt to escape." Swartz hesitated, and cast an uneasy glance upon the weapon. "Does the sight of this little instrument annoy you?" said Mohun, laughing. " It shall not be guilty of that impoliteness, Mr. Swartz." And he uncocked the weapon, and replaced it in its holster. "Now," he continued, "sit down, and^et us talk." Swartz obeyed. Before Mohun's penetrating glance, his own eank. He took his seat in a broken-backed chair; drew forth a huge red bandanna handkerchief ; wiped his forehead; and said quietly : — " I expected to meet a friend here to-night, gentlemen, instead of " 182 MOHUN. "Enemies?" interrupted Mohun. "TVe are such, it \s true, my dear sir, but you are quite safe. Your friend Nighthawk is called away ; he is even ignorant of our presence here." "But meeting him would have been different, gentlemen. I had his safe conduct!" " You shall have it from me." " May I ask from whom ?" said Swartz. " From General Mohun, of the Confederate army." Swartz smiled this time ; then making a grotesque bow, he replied: — " I knew you very well, general — that is why I am so much at my ease. I am pleased to hear that you are promoted. When I last savr you, you were only a colonel, but I was certain that you would soon be promoted or killed." There was a queer accent of politeness in the voice of the speaker. He did not seem to have uttered these words in order to flatter his listener, but to express his real sentiment. He was evidently a character. " Good !" said Mohun, with his habitual accent of satire. " These little compliments are charming. But I am in haste to- night — let us come to business, my dear sir. I came hither to ask you some questions, and to these I expect plain replies." Swartz looked at the speaker intently, but without suspicion. His glance, on the contrary, had in it something strangely open and unreserved. "I will reply to all your questions, general," he said, "and reply truthfully. I have long expected this interview, and will even say that I wished it. You look on rae as a Yankee spy, and will have but little confidence in what I say. ^STevertheless, I am going to tell you the whole truth about every thing. Ask your questions, general, I will answer them." Mohun was leaning one elbow on the broken table. His glance, calm and yet fiery, seemed bent on penetrating to the most secret recess of the spy's heart. " Well," he said, " now that we begin to understand each other, let us come to the point at once. Where were you on the morning of the thirteenth of December, 1856?" Swartz replied without hesitation : — THE SPY. 183 *'0n the bank of Nottoway River, in Dinwiddie, Virginia, and bound for Petersburg." " Tlie object of yoar journey ?" "To sell dried fruits and winter vegetables." " Then you travelled in a cart, or a wagon?" " In a cart, general." " You reached Petersburg without meeting with any incident on the way ?" "I met with two very curious ones, general. I see you know something about the affair, and are anxious to know every thing. I will tell you the whole truth ; but it will be best to let me do it in my own way." " Do so, then," said Mohun, fixing his eyes more intently upon the spy. Swartz was silent again for more than a minute, gazing on tho floor. Then he raised his head, passed his red handkerchief over his brow, and said : — " To begin at the beginning, general. At the time you speak of, December, 1856, I was a small landholder in Dinwiddie, and made my living by carting vegetables and garden-truck to Peters- burg. Well, on6 morning in winter — you remind me that it was the thirteenth of December, — I set out, as usual, in my cart drawn by an old mule, with a good load on board, to go by way of Monk's Neck. I had not gone two miles, however, when passing through a lonely piece of woods on the bank of the river, I heard a strange cry in the brush. It was the most startling you can think of, and made my heart stop beating. I jumped down from my cart, left it standing in the narrow road, and went to the spot. It was a strange sight I saw. On the bank of the river, I saw a woman lying drenched with water, and half-dead. She was richly dressed, and of very great beauty — but I never saw any human face so pale, or clothes more torn and draggled." The spy paused. Mohun shaded his eyes from the light, with his hands, and said coolly : — "Goon." '• "Well, general — that was enougli to astonish anybody — and what is more astonishing still, I have never to this day discovered the meaning of the woman'* being there — for it was plain that she 8* 1S4: MOHUN^. was a lady. She was lialf-dead with cold, and had cried out in what seemed to be a sort of delirium. Wheu I raised her up, and wrung the wet out of her clothes, she looked at me so strangely that I was frightened. I asked her how she had come there, but she made no reply. Where should I take her ? She made no reply to that either. She seemed dumb — out of her wits — and, to make a long story short, I half led and half carried her to the cart in which I put her, making a sort of bed for her of some old bags. " I set out on my way again, without having the least notion what I should do with her — for she seemed a lady — and only with a sort of idea that her friends might probably pay me for my trouble, some day. " Well, I went on for a mile or two farther, when a new ad- venture happened to me. That was stranger still — it was like a story-book ; and you will hardly believe me — but as I was going througli a piece of woods, following a by-road by which I cut off a mile or more, I heard groans near the road, and once more stopped ray cart. Then I listened. I was scared, and began to believe in witchcraft. The groans came from the woods on my left, and there was no doubt about the sound — so, having listened for some time, I mustered courage to go in the -direction of the sound. Can you think what I found, general?" " What?" said Mohun, in the same cool voice ; " tell me." " A man lying in a grave ; — a real grave, general — broad and deep — a man with a hole through his breast, and streaming with blood." " Is it possible ?" And Mohun uttered a laugh. " Just as I tell you, general — it is the simple, naked truth. When I got to the place, he was struggling to get oat of the grave, and his breast was bleeding terribly. I never saw a hu- man being look paler. ' Help I' he cried out, in a sutfocated voice like, when he saw me — and as he spoke, he made such a strong effort to rise, that his wound gushed with blood, and he fainted." *'He fainted, did he? And what did you do?" said Mohun. " I took him up in my arms, general, as I had taken the wo- man, carried him to my cart, when I bound up his breast in the THE SPY. 185 best way I could, and laid him by tbe side of the half-drowned lady." '' To get a reward from his friends, too, no doubt ?" "Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not de- serve something for being so scared — and for the use of my mule?" " Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire ? But go on, sir — your tale is interesting." " Tale, general? It is the truth — on the word of Swartz !" " I no longer doubt now, if I did before," said Mohun ; " but tell me the end of your adventure." " I can do that in a few words, general. I whipped up my old mule, and went on through the woods, thinking what I had best do with the man and the woman I had saved. I could take them to Petersburg, and tell my story to the mayor or some good citi- zen, who would see that they w^ere taken care of. But as soon as I said 'mayor' to myself, I thought 'he is the chief of police.' Police ! — that is one of the ugliest words in the language, general ! Some people shiver, and their flesh crawls, when you cut a cork, or scratch on a window pane — well, it is strange, bnt I have al- ways felt in that way when 1 heard, or thought of, the word, police ! And here I was going to have dealings with the said police ! I was going to say ' I found these people on the iSTotto- way — one half-drowned, and the other in a newly dug grave!' No, I thank you ! We never know wliat our characters will stand, and I was by no means certain that mine would stand that ! Then the reward — I wished to have ray lady and gentle- man under my eye. So, after thinking over the matter for some miles, I determined to leave them with a crony of mine near Monk's Neck, named Alibi, w^ho would take care of them and say nothing. Well, I did so, and went onto Petersburg, where I sold my truck. When I got back they were in bed, and on my next visit they were at the point of death. About that time I was taken sick, and was laid up for more than three months. When I went to see my birds at Monk's Neck, they had flown !" "Without leaving you their adieux ?" " No, they were at least polite. They left me a roll of bank notes— more than I thought they had about them." 186 M o n U N . "You had searclied tliein, of course, when they were lying in your cart," said Mohun. Swartz smiled. "I acknowledge it, general — I forgot to mention the fact. I had found only a small amount in the gentleman's i)ocket-book — nothing on the ladv — and I never could understand where he or she had concealed about their persons such a considerable amount of money — though I suppose, in a secret pocket." Mohun nodded. " That is often done — well, that was the last of them ?^' Swartz smiled, and glanced at Mohun. "What is the use of any concealment, my dear Mr. Swartz?" said the latter. "You may as well tell the whole story, as you have gone this far," "You are right, general, and I will finish. The war broke out, and I sold my truck patch, and invested in a better business — that is, running the blockade across the Potomac, and smuggling in goods for the Riclmiond market. On one of these trips, I met, plump, in the streets of Washington, no less a person than tlie lady whom I had rescued. She was richly dressed, and far more beautiful, but there was no mistaking her. I spoke to her; she recognized me, took me to her house, and here I found the gentleman^ dressed in a fine new uniform. He was changed too — liis wound had long healed, he was stout and strong, but I knew him, too, at a glance. Well, I spent the evening, and when I left the house had accepted an offer made me to combine a new business with that of blockade runner." "That of spy, you mean?" said Mohun. Swartz smiled. "You speak plainly, general. We call ourselves 'secret agents* — but either word expresses the idea!" THE PAPER. 187 XXIX. THE PAPER. MonrN raised his head, and looked Swartz fall in the face. His glance had grown, if possible, more penetrating than before, and a grim smile responded to the unctuous expression of the spy. " Well, my dear Mr. Swartz," he said coolly, "that is a curious history. Others might doubt its accuracy, but I give you my word that I do not! I did well to let you proceed in your own way, instead of questioning you— but I have not yet done ; and this time shall return to the method of interrogation." "At your orders, general," said Swartz, whose quick glance showed that he was on his guard, and foresaw what was coming. Mohun leaned tow^ard the spy. " Let us proceed to ' call names,' " lie said. " The man you res- cued from the grave was Colonel Darke?" "Exactly, general." "Is that his real name, or a false one?" Swartz hesitated; then replied : — "A false one." "His real name?" " Mortimer." "And the lady is V "His wife, general." " Good," said Mohun, " you are well informed, I see, ray dear Mr. Swartz ; and it is a pleasure to converse with a gentleman who knows so much, and knows it so accurately." "You flatter my pride, general!" " I do you justice— but to the point. Your story was cut off in the middle. After the interview in Washington, you continued to see Colonel Darke and his wife ?" "I saw them frequently, general." "In the army — and at their home, both?" "Y^s, general." i "Where did they live?" "Near Carlisle, Pennsylvania." 18S MOHUN. "Where you were on a visit, just before the battle of Gettys- burg?" "Yes, general." " Very good !" And rising quickly, Mohun confronted the spy, who drew back unconsciously. " Where is the paper that you stole from the woman that night?" he said. Swartz was unable to sustain the fiery glance directed toward him by Mohun. "Then Nighthawk has told you all!" he exclaimed. " Colonel Surry saw you hide the paper." Swartz looked suddenly toward me — his smiles had all vanished. "The paper! give me tbe paper I" exclaimed Mohun; "you shall have gold for it!" "I have left it in Culpeper, general." " Liar I — give me the paper! Swartz started to his feet. Mohun caught at his throat — the spy recoiled — when suddenly a quick firing was heard coming rapidly from the direction of Germanna Ford. "The enemy have crossed, Mohun!" I cried. Mohun started, and turned his head in the direction of the sound, "They are advancing!" I said, "but look out! — the spy! — " Mohun wheeled, drawing his pistol. Swartz had profited by the moment, when our attention was attracted by the firing, to pass through the door, gain his horse at a bound, and throw himself into the saddle, with an agility that was incredible in one so fat. At the same moment Mohun's pistol-shot responded, but the bullet whistled harmlessly over the spy's head. In an in^tanthe had disappeared in the woods. Mohun rushed to his horse, I followed, and we were soon riding at full speed in the direction of the firing. As we advanced, however, it receded. We pushed gn, and reached the bank of the Rapidan just as Mohun's men had driven a party of the enemy over. GRAKT STRIKES HIS FIRST B^LOW. 180 It was only a small body, who, crossing at a private ford and surprising the sleepy picket, had raided into the thicket, to retire promptly when they wei^ assailed. The affair was nothing. Unfortunately, however, it had en- abled the Federal spy to elude us. Swartz had disappeared like a bird of the night; and all pur- suit of him in such a wilderness was impossible. An hour afterward, I had rejoined Stuart. XXX. aRANT STRIKES HIS FIRST BLOW." Srcn were the singular scenes which I witnessed, amid the shadows of the Spottsylvania Wilderness, in the first days of Mav, 1864. . The narrative has brought the reader now to an hour past mid- night on the third of May. An hour before— that is to say, at midnight precisely— the Federal forces began to move : at six in the morning, they had massed on the north bank of the Rapidan ; and as the sun rose above the Wilderness, the blue columns began to cross the river. General Grant, at the head of his army of 140,000 men, had set forth on his great advance toward Richmond— that advance so often tried, so often defeated, but which now seemed, from the verv nature of things, to be destined to succeed. Any other hypothesis seemed absurd. What could 50,000 do a-ainst nearly thrice their number? What could arrest the im- mense machine rolling forward to crush the Confederacy ? A glance at Grant's splendid array was enough to make the stoutest heart sink. On this 4th day of May, 1864, he was crossing the Rapidan with what resembled a countless host. Heavy masses of blue infantry, with glittering bayonets— huge parks of rifled artillery, with their swarming cannoneers— long columns of horsemen, armed with sabre and repeating carbines, made the 190 • MOHUy. earth shake, and the woods echo witli their heavy and continuous tramp, mingled with the roll of wheels. In front of them, a little army of gaunt and ragged men, looked on and waited, without resisting their advance. "What did that waiting mean? Did they intend to dispute the passage of that multitude toward Richmond? It seemed incredible, but that was exactly the intention of Lee. It is now known that General Grant and his officers felicitated themselves greatly on the safe passage of the Rapidan, and were convinced that Lee would hasten to retreat toward the South Anna. Instead of retreating, Lee advanced and delivered battle. The. first collision took place on the 5th of May, when the Federal army was rapidly massing in the Wilderness. Ewell had promptly advanced, and about noon was forming line of battle across the old turnpike, when he was vigorously attacked by "Warren, and his advance driven back. But the real obstacle was behind. Swell's rear closed up — he advanced in his turn; assailed Warren with fury; swept him back into the thicket; seized two pieces of his artillery, with about 1,000 prisoners; and for the time completely paralyzed the Federal force in his front. Such was the first blow struck. It had failed, and General Grant turned his attention to A. P. Hill, who had hastened up, and formed line of battle across the Orange plank road, on Eweirs right. Hancock directed the assault here, and we have General Lee's testimony to the fact, that the Federal attempts to drive back Hill were " repeated and desperate." All failed. Hill stub- bornly held his ground. At night tlie enemy retired, and gave up all further attempts on that day to make any headway. Grant had expected to find a mere rear-guard, while Lee's main body was retreating upon Richmond. He found two full corps in his front ; and there was no doubt that a third — that of Longstreet — was approaching. Lee was evidentjy going to fight — his aim was, plainly, to shut up Grant in the Wilderness, and drive him back beyond the Rapidan, or destroy him. THE REPORT. 191 XXX. THE REPORT. It was twiligbt, and the fighting was over. The two tigers had drawn back, and, crouching down, panted heavily, — resting and gathering new strength for the fiercer con- iiict of the next dav. From the thickets rose the stifled hum of the two hosts. Only a few shots were heard, now and then, from the skirmishers, and these resembled the last drops of a storm which had spent its fury. I had been sent by General Stuart with an order to General Hampton, who commanded the cavalry on Hill's right. Hampton was sitting his horse in a field extending, at this point, between us and the erteray ; and, if it were necessary, I would draw his outline. It is not necessary, however ; every one is familiar Avith the figure of this great and faithful soldier, in his old gray coat, plain arms and equipments, on his large and power- ful war-horse, — man and horse ready for battle. In the war I saw many great figures, — Hampton's was one of the noblest. Having delivered my message to General Hampton, who re- ceived it with his air of grave, yet cordial courtesy, I turned to shake hands with Captain Church — a thorough-bred young oflBcer, as brave as steel, and one of my best friends — when an exclama- tion from the staif attracted my attention, and looking round, I saw the cause. At the opposite extremity of the extensive field, a solitary horseman was seen darting out of the woods occupied by the Federal infantry, and this man was obviously a deserter, making his way into our lines. At a sign from General Hampton, Captain Church went to meet him, and as my horse was fresh, I accompanied my friend in his ride. The deserter came on at full speed to meet us, and for a mo- ment, his horse skimmed the dusky expanse like a black-winged 192 MOHUN. bird.* Then, all at once, his speed moderated ; he approached at a jog-trot, and through the gathering gloom I recognized, above the blue uniform, the sweetly smiling countenance of Nighthawk ! . "Good evening, colonel," said Nighthawk; " I am glad to see you again, and hope you are well." " So you have turned deserter, Nighthawk ?" I said, laughing heartily. " Precisely, colonel. I could not get oflf before. Will you in- form me where I can find General Stuart?" "I will take you to him." And riding back with Captain Church and Nighthawk, I soon found myself again in presence of General Hampton. A word from me explained the real character of the pseudo- deserter. General Hampton asked a number of questions, Night- hawk replied to them, and then the latter begged me to conduct him to General Stuart. I did so without delay, and we soon reached Stuart's bivouac, where he was talking with his staff by a camp-fire. At sight of the blue figure he scarcely turned ; then suddenly he recognized Nighthawk, and burst into laughter. ''Well, my blue night-bird!" he exclaimed, "here you are at last ! What news ? Is Grant going to cross the river?" Nighthawk hung his head, and sighed audibly. "I could not help it, general." " Why didn't you come before ?" " It was impossible, general." Stuart shook his head. "Strike that word out of vour dictionarv, mv friend."! " That is good advice, general; but this time they nonplussed me. They blocked every road, and I had to join their army." " Well, I hope you got the $600 bounty," said Stuart, laughing. "That was another impossibility, general; but I enjoyed the very best society yonder." " What society, Nighthawk ?" "That of Grant, Meade, and Sedgwick." " Ah ! ray old friend. General Sedgwick ! But where are Grant's head-quarters, Nighthawk? Tell me every thing !'' * This scene Is real. t His words. THE REPORT. 193 "At Old Wilderness Taveru, general." " And you saw him there ?" " In the midst of his generals, — I was temporarily one of his couriers." " I understand. Well, their intended movements ?" Nighthawk shook his head. '' I could have foretold you those of to-day, general." "How?" "I heard G-eneral Meade dictating his order, through the win- dow of his head-quarters, and can repeat it verbatim^ if you desire." "By all means, ISTighthawk, — it will reveal his programme. But is it possible that you can do so ?" " I can, general ; I engraved every word on ray memory." And, fixing his eyes intently upon vacancy, Nighthawk com- menced in a low, monotonous voice: — " The following movements are ordered for the 5th May, 1864. General Sheridan, commanding cavalry corps, will move with Gregg's and Torbert's divisions against the enemy's cavalry, in the direction of Hamilton's Crossing. General Wilson, with the Third cavalry division, will move at 5 a. m., to Craig's meeting- house, on the Catharpin road. He will keep out parties on the Orange Court-House pike, and plank road, the Catharpin road, Pamunkey road, and in the direction of Troyman's store and Andrews's store, or Good Hope church. 2. Major-General Hancock, commanding Second Corps, will move at 5 a. m., to Shady Grove church, and extend his right toward the Fifth Corps at Parker's store. 3. Major-General Warren, commanding Fifth Corps, will move at 5 a. m., to Parker's store, on the Orange Court-House plank road, and extend his right toward the Sixth Corps at Old Wilderness Tavern. 4. Major-General Sedgwick, commanding Sixth Corps, will move to the Old Wilderness Tavern, on the Orange Court-House pike, as soon as the road is clear." The monotonous voice stopped. I had listened with astonish- ment, and found it difficult to credit this remarkable feat of memory, though it took place before my eyes, or rather, in my ears. 194 MOnUN. 'It 13 really wonderful," said Stuart, gravely. "You see," said Nighthawk, returning to his original voice, so to speak, "you see, general, this would have been of sorae importance yesterday." "It is very important now," said Stuart; " it indicates Grant's programme — his wish to get out of the Wilderness. He is at Old Wilderness Tavern ?" "He was this morning, general, with Yeade and Sedgwick." " You were there ?" "I was, general." " What did you gather, Nighthawk ?" " Little or nothing, general. True, I heard one or two amusing things as I loitered among the couriers near." " What ?" " General Grant came out talking with Meade, Sedgwick, and AVarren. General Meade said, ' They have left a division to fool us here^ while they concentrate^ and prepare a position toward the North Anna^ — and what I want is to prevent these fellows from getting hack to Mine Hun.'' " * Stuart laughed. " Well, ' these fellows' don't appear to be going back. What did Grant say?" "He smoked, general." " And did not open his lips ?" " Only once, when General Meade said something about ' ma- noeuvring.' " "What did he sav?" " I can give you his words. He took his cigar from his lips — puffed out the smoke — and replied, ^ Oh ! J never ma- ncBuvrc ! ' " * " So much the better," said Stuart : " the general that does not manoeuvre sacrifices his men : and I predict that General Grant will soon alter his programme." Stuart had ordered his horse to be saddled, and now mounted to go to General Lee's head-quarters. " By the bye," he said, " did you hear Warren or Sedgwick say any thing, Xighthawk?" * II is words. THE UNSEEN DEATH. 195 Niglithawk smiled. "I heard Sedgwick utter a few words, general." " What ?" "He said to Warren, '• I hear Hood is to take Stuarfs place. I am glad ofit^for Stuart is the hest cavalry officer ever foaled in North AmericaP " * XXXII. THE UNSEEN DEATH. The morning of the 6th of May was ushered in with thunder. The battle of the preceding day had been a sort of " feeler " — now the real struggle came. By a curious coincidence, Grant and Lee both began the attack and at the same hour. At five o'clock in the morning the blue and gray ranks rushed together, and opened fire on each other. Or rather, they fired when they heard each others' steps and shouts. You saw little in that jungle. I have already spoken more than once of this sombre country — a land of undergrowth, thicket, ooze ; where sight failed, and. attacks had to be made by the needle, the officers advancing in front of the line with drawn — compasses! The assaults here were worse than night- fighting ; the com- bats strange beyond example. Regiments, brigades, and divi- sions stumbled on each other before they knew it ; and each opened fire, guided alone by the crackling of steps in the bushes. There was something weird and lugubrious in such a struggle. It was not a conflict of men, matched against each other in civil- ized warfare. Two wild animals were prowling, and hunting each other in the jungle. When they heard each others' steps, they sprang and grappled. One fell, the other fell upon him. Then the conqueror rose up and went in pursuit of other game — the dead was lost from all eyes. * Ilis words. 196 MOHUX. In this mournful and desolate country of the Spottsylvania Wilderness, did the bloody campaign of 1864 begin. Here,where the very landscape seemed dolorous; here, in blind wrestle, as at midnight, did 200,000 men, in blue and gray, clutch each other — bloodiest and weirdest of encounters. "War had had nothing like it. Destruction of life had become a science, and was done by the compass. The Genius of Blood, apparently tired of the old common-place mode of killing, had invented the " Unseen Death," in the depths of the jungle. On the morning of May Gth, Lee and Grant had grappled, and the battle became general along the entire line of the two armies. In these rapid memoirs I need only outline this bitter struggle — the histories will describe it. Lee was aiming to get around the enemy's left, and huddle him up in the thicket — but in this he failed. Just as Longstreet, who had arrived and taken part in the action, was advancing to turn the Federal flank on the Brock road, he was wounded by one of his own men ; and the move- ment was arrested in mid career. But Lee adhered to his plan. He determined to lead his col- umn in person, and would ha^■e done so, but for the remonstrances of his men. " To the rear I" shouted the troops, as he rode in front of them ; '' to the rear!" And he was obliged to obey. He was not needed. The gray lines surged forward : the thicket was full of smoke and quick flashes of flame : then the woods took fire, and the scene of carnage had a new and ghastly feature added to it. Dense clouds of smoke rose, blinding and choking the combatants : the flames crackled, soared aloft, and were blown in the men's faces; and still, in the midst of this frightful array of horrors, the carni- val of destruction went on without ceasing. At nightfall, General Lee had driven the enemy from their front line of works — but nothing was gained. What could be gained in that wretched country, where there was nothing but thicket, thicket I BREATHED AND HIS GUN. 197 General Grant saw his danger, and, no donbt, divined the ob- ject of his adversary,— to arrest and cripple him in this tangle- wood, where numbers did not count, and artillery could not be used. There was but one thing to do— to get out of the jungle. So, on the day after this weird encounter, in which he had lost nearly 20,000 men, and Lee about 8,000, Grant moved toward Spottsylvania. The thickets of the Wilderness were again silent, and the blue and gray objects in the undergrowth did not move. The war-dogs had gone to tear each other elsewhere. XXXIII. BREATHED AND HIS GUN. In the din and smoke of that desperate grapple of the infantry, I have lost sight of the incessant cavalry combats which marked each day with blood. And now there is no time to return to them. A great and som- bre event drags the pen. With one scene I shall dismiss those heroic fights — but that scene will be superb. Does the reader remember the brave Breathed, commanding a battalion of the Stuart horse artillery ? I first spoke of him on the night preceding Chancellorsville, when he came to see Stuart, at that time he was already famous for his "do-or-die " fighting. A Marylander by birth, he had " come over to help us :" had been the right-hand man of Pelham ; the favorite of Stuart ; the admi- ration of the whole army for a courage which the word " reck- less" best describes ;— and now, in this May, 1864, his familiar name of " Old Jim Breathed," bestowed by Stuart, who held him in high favor, had become the synonym of stubborn nerve and elan, unsurpassed by that of Murat. To fight his guns to the muz- zles, or go in with the sabre, best suited Breathed. A veritable bull-dog in combat, he shrank at nothing, and led everywhere. I saw brave men in the war — none braver than Breathed. When 198 mohu:n'. he failed in auy tiling, it was because reckless courage could not accomplish it. He was young, of vigorous frame, with dark hair and eyes, and tanned by sun and wind. His voice was low, and deep; his man- ners simple and unassuming; his ready laugh and off-hand bearing indicated the born soldier ; eyes mild, friendly, and full of hon- esty. It was only when Breathed was fighting his guns, or leading a charge, that they resembled red-hot coals, and seemed to flame. To come to my incident, I wish, reader, to show you Breathed ; to let you see the whole individual in a single exploit. It is good to record things not recorded in " history." They are, after all, the real glory of the South — of which nothing can deprive her. I please myself, too, for Breathed was my friend. I loved and admired him — and only a month or two before, he had made the whole armv admire — and laugh with — him too. See how memory leads me oif! I am going to give ten words, first, to that incident which made us laugh. In the last davs of winter, a force of Federal cavalrv came to make an attack on Charlottesville — crossing the Rapidan high up toward the mountains, and aiming to surprise the place. Unfor- tunately for him, G-eneral Custer, who commanded the expedition, was to find the Stuart horse artillery in winter quarters near. So sudden and unexpected was Custer's advance, that the artillery camps were entirely surprised. At one moment, the men were lying down in their tents, dozing, smoking, laughing — the horses turned out to graze, the guns covered, a profound peace reigning — at the next, they were running to arms, shouting, and in con- fusion, with the blue cavalry charging straight on their tents, sabre in hand. Breathed had been lounging like the rest, laughing and talking with the men. Peril made him suddenly king, and, sabre in hand, he rushed to the guns, calling to his men to follow. With his own hands he wheeled a gun round, drove home a charge, and trained the piece to bear upon the Federal cavalry, trampling in among the tents within fifty yards of him. "Man the guns I" he shouted, in his voice of thunder. " Stand to your guns, boys I You promised me you would never let these guns be taken!" * * His "words. BREATHED AND HIS GUN. 199 A roar of voices answered him. The bull-dogs thrilled at the voice of the master. Suddenly the pieces spouted flame ; shell and canister tore through the Federal ranks. Breathed was everywhere, cheering on the cannoneers. Discharge succeedeil discharge; the grouod shook: then the enemy gave back, wa- vering and losing heart. Breathed seized the moment. Manv of the horses had been caught and hastily saddled. Breathed leaped upon one of them, and shouted : — "Mount!" The men threw themselves into the saddle — some armed with sabres, others with clubs, others with pieces of fence-rail, caught up from the fires. "Charge!" thundered Breathed. And at the head of his men, he lead a headlong charge upon the Federal cavalry, which broke and fled in the wildest disorder, pursued by the ragged cannoneers, Breathed in front, with yells, cheers, and cries of defiance. They were pursued past Barboursville to the Eapidan, without pause. That night Stuart went after them: their ofiicers held a council of war, it is said, to decide whether they should not bury tlieir artillery near Stannardsville, to prevent its capture. On the day after this, they had escaped. In passing Barboursville, on their return from Charlottesville, one of the Federal troopers stopped to get a drink of water at the house of a citizen. " "What's the matter ?" asked the citizen. "Well, we are retreating." " Who is after you ?" " Nobody but old Jim Breathed and his men, armed with fence- rails."* Such was one of a dozen incidents in Breathed's life. Let me come to that which took place near Spottsylvania Court-House. Grant had moved, as we have seen, by his left flank toward that place. General Fitzhugh Lee opposed him on the way, and at every step harassed the head of the Federal column with his dismounted sharp-shooters and horse artillery. Near Spottsylvania * His words. 9 200 MOHUN. Court-House, it was the stand made by Fitz Lee's cavalry that saved the position, changing the aspect of the whole campaign. Sent by Stuart with a message to the brave " General Fitz," I reached him near Spottsylvania Court-House, at the moment when he had just ordered his cavalry to fall back slowly before the advancing enemy, and take a new position in rear. Two guns which had been firing on the enemy were still in battery on a hill ; upon these a heavy Federal skirmish line was steadily moving: and beside the guns. Breathed and Fitzhugh Lee sat their horses, looking coolly at the advancing line. " Give them a round of canister, Breathed !" exclaimed General Fitz Lee. Breathed obeved, but the skirmish line continued bravelv to advance. All at once, there appeared in the woods behind them, a regular line of battle advancing, with flags fluttering. To remain longer on the hill was to lose the guns. The bullets were whizzing around us, and there was but one course left — to fall back. " Take the guns off. Breathed !" exclaimed the general ; " there is no time to lose ! Join the command in the new position, farther down the road !" Breathed looked decidedly unwilling. " A few more rounds, general !" And turning to the men, he shouted : — *' Give them canister !" At the word, the guns spouted flame, and the canister tore through the line of skirmishers, and the Federal line of battle be- hind ; but it did not check them. They came on. more rapidly, and the air was full of balls. "Look out for the guns, Breathed! Take them off I" ex- claimed the general. Breathed turned toward one of the pieces, and ordered : — " Limber to the rear !" The order was quickly obeyed. "Forward!" The piece went off at a thundering gallop, pursued by bullets. "Only a few more rounds, general!" pleaded Breathed; "I won't lose the guns!" BREATHED AND HIS GUN. 201 "All right!" As he spoke, the enemy rushed upon the single gun. Breathed replied by hurling canister in their faces. He sat his horse, unflinching. Never had I seen a more superb soldier. The enemy were nearly at the muzzle of the piece. " Surrender !" they were heard shouting ; " surrender the gun!" Breathed's response was a roar, which hurled back the front rank. Then, his form towering amid the smoke, his eyes flashing, his drawn sabre whirled above his head. Breathed shouted, — " Limber up !" The cannoneers seized the trail ; the horses wheeled at a gal- lop ; the piece was limbered up ; and the men rushed down the hill to mount their horses, left there. Then around the gun seemed to open a volcano of flame. The Federal infantry were right on it. A storm of bullets cut the air. The drivers leaped from the horses drawing the piece, thinking its capture inevitable, and ran down the hill. In all instant they had disappeared. The piece seemed in the hands of the enemy — indeed, they were almost touching it — a gun of the Stuart horse artillery for the first time was to be cap- tured I That thought seemed to turn Breathed into a giant. As the drivers disappeared, his own horse was shot under him, staggered, sunk, and rolled upon his rider. Breathed dragged himself from beneath the bleeding animal, rose to his feet, and rushing to the lead horses of the gun, leaped upon one of them, and struck them violently with his sabre to force them on. As he did so, the horse upon which he was mounted fell, pierced by a bullet through the body. Breathed fell upon his feet, and, with the edge of his sabre, cut the two leaders out of the traces. He then leaped upon one of the middle horses — the gun being drawn by six — and started oflf. He had not gone three paces, when the animal which he now rode fell dead in turn. Breathed rolled upon the ground, but rising to his feet, severed the dead animal and his c-ompanion from the piece, as he had done the leaders. 202 MOnUN. He then leaped upon one of the wheel-horses — these alone be- ing novv left — struck them furiously with his sabre — started at a thundering gallop down the hill — and pursued by a hail-storra of bullets, from which, as General Lee says in his report, ''he mi- raculously escaped unharmed," carried off the gun in safety, and rejoined the cavalry, greeted by a rolling thunder of cheers. Such was the manner in which Breathed fouglit his artillery, and the narrative is the barest and most simple statement of fact. Breathed came out of the war a lieutenant-colonel only. Na- poleon would have made him a marshal. XXXIV. MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. MoEE than one stirring incident marked those days of desper- ate fighting, when, barricading all the roads, and charging reck- lessly, Stuart opposed, at every step, Grant's advance toward the Po. But I can not describe those incidents. They must be left to others. The pen w^hich has paused to record that exploit of Breathed, is drawn onward as by the hand of Fate toward one of those scenes which stand out, lugubrious and bloody, from the pages of history. From the moment when Grant crossed the Rapidan, Stuart had met the horsemen of Sheridan everywhere in bitter conflict ; and the days and nights had been strewed all over with battles. 2^ow, on the ninth of May, when the two great adversaries faced each other on the Po, a more arduous service still was demanded of the great sabreur. Sheridan had been dispatched to sever General Lee's communications, and, if possible, capture Richmond. The city was known to be well nigh stripped of troops, and a determined assault might result in its fall. Sheri- dan accordingly cut loose a heavy column, took command of it in MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. 203 person, and descended like a thunderbolt toward the devoted city. Kg sooner, however, had he begun to move, than Stuart fol- lowed on his track. He had no difficulty in doing so. A great dust-cloud told the story. That cloud hung above the long col- umn of Federal cavalry, accompanied it wherever it moved, and indicated clearly to Stuart the course which his adversary was pursuing. If he could /)nly interpose, with however small a force, between Sheridan and Richmond, time vs^ould be given for preparation to resist the attack, and the capital might be saved. If he failed to interpose, Sheridan would accomplish his object— Richmond would fall. It was a forlorn hope, after all, that he could arrest the Fed- eral commander. General Sheridan took with him a force es- timated at 9,000. Stuart's was, in all, about 3,000; Gordon, who was not in the battle at Yellow Tavern, included. That action was fought by Fitz Lee's division of 2,400 men all told. But the men and officers were brave beyond words ; the incentive to daring resistance was enormous ; they would do all that could be done. Such was the situation of affairs on the 9th of May, 1864. Stuart set out at full gallop on his iron gray, from Spottsyl- vania Court-House, about three o'clock in the day, and reached Chilesburg, toward Hanover Junction, just as night fell. Here we found General Fitz Lee engaged in a hot skirmish with thf) enemy's rear-guard ; and that night Stuart planned an attack upon their camp, but abandoned the idea. His spirits at this time were excellent, but it was easy to see that he realized the immense importance of checking the enemy. An officer said in his presence : — " We won't be able to stop Sheridan." Stuart turned at those words ; his cheeks flushed ; his eyes flamed, and he said : — " No, sir ! I'd rather die than let him go on !"* On the next morning, he moved in the direction of Hanover Junction ; riding boot to boot with his friend General Fitz Lee. * His words. 204 MOHUN. I had never seen him more jovons. Some events engrave them- selves forever on the memory. That ride of ]May 10th, 1864-, was one of them. Have human beings a presentiment, ever, at the near approneh of death ? Does the shadow of the unseen hand ever reveal itself to the eye? I know not, but I know that no such presentiment came to Stuart ; no shadow of the coming event darkened the path of the great cavalier. On the contrary, his spirits were buoyant beyond example, almost; and, riding on. with General Fitz Lee, he sang in his gallant voice his favorite ditties "Come out of the Wilderness!" and " Jine the Cavalry!" As he rode on thus, he was the beau ideal of a cavalier. His seat in the saddle was firm; his blue eyes dazzling; his heavy mustache curled with laughter at the least provocation. Some- thing in this man seemed to spring forward to meet danger. Peril aroused and strung liim. All his energies were stimulated by it. In that ride tlirougli the May forest, to attack Sheridan, and arrest him or die, Stuart's bearing and expression were su- perbly joyous and inspiring. His black plume floated in the spring breeze, like some knight-errant's ; and he went to battle humming a song, resolved to conquer or fall. Riding beside him, I found my eyes incessantly attracted to his proud face ; and now I see the great cavalier as then, clearly with the eyes of memory. What a career had been his ! w^hat a life of battles ! As we went on through the spring woods, amid the joyous songs of birds, all the long, hard combats of this man passed before me like an immense panorama. The ceaseless scouting and fighting in the Shenandoah Yaller ; the charge and route of the red- legged "Zouaves'^ at Manassas; the falling back to the Penin- sula, and tlie fighting all through Charles City ; the famous ride around McClellan ; the advance and combats on the Rapidau and Rappahanock, after Cedar Mountain ; the night attack on Cat- lett's, when he captured Pope's coat and papers; the march on Jackson's flank, and the capture of Manassas ; the advance into Maryland; the fights at Frederick, Crampton's, and Boonsboro', with the hard rear-guard work, as Lee retired to Sharpsburg; his splendid handling of artillery on the left wing of the army MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART. 205 there ; the retreat, covered by his cavah*y ; tlie second ride aroiind McClellan, and safe escape from his clutches ; the bitter conflicts at Upperville and Barbee's, as Lee fell back; the hard fighting thereafter, on the banks of the Rappahannock; the " crowding 'em with artillery," on the night of Fredericksburg; the winter march to Dumfries; the desperate battle at Kelly's Ford ; the falling back before Hooker; the battle of Chancellors - ville, when he succeeded Jackson ; the stubborn wrestle of Fleet- wood; the war of giants below Upperville; the advance across Maryland into Pennsylvania, when the long march was strewed all over with battles, at Westminister, Hanover, Carlisle, Gettys- burg, where he met and repulsed the best cavalry of the Federal army ; the retreat from Gettysburg, wnth the tough affair near Boonsboro' ; guarding the rear of the army as it again crossed the Potomac; then the campaign of October, ending with Kilpatrick's route at Buckland ; the assault on Meade's head of column, when he came over to Mine Run ; the bold attack on his rear there ; and the hard, incessant fighting since Grant had come over to the Wilderness; — I remembered all these splendid scenes and illus- trious services as I rode on beside Stuart, through the fields and forests of Hanover, and thought, ''This is one of those great figures which live forever in history, and men's memories!" To-day, I know that I was not mistaken, or laboring under the influence of undue affection and admiration. That figure has passed from earth, but still lives ! Stuart is long dead, and the grass covers him; but there is scarce a foot of the soil of Virginia that does not speak of him. He is gone, but his old motlier is proud of him — is she not? Answer, mountains where he fought — lowlands, where he fell — river, murmuring a dirge, as you foam through the rocks yon- der, past his grave ! 206 MOnUN. XXXV. "SOOX WITH ANGELS I'LL BE MAKCHIXG." Let me rapidly pass over the events of the tenth of May. Gordon's little brigade had been ordered to follow on the rear of the enemy, -while Fitz Leo moved round by Taylorsville to get in front of them. Stuart rode and met Gordon, gave the brave Xorth Carolin- ian, so soon to fan, his last orders ; and then hastened back to Fitz Lee, who had continued to press the enemy. They had struck the Central railroad, but the gray cavaliers were close on them. Colonel Robert Randolph, that brave soul, doomed like Gordon, charged them furiously here, took nearly a hundred prisoners, and drove them across the road. At this moment Stuart returned, and pushed forward toward Taylorsville, from which point he intended to hasten on and get in their front. About four in the afternoon we reached Fork church, and the command halted to rest. Stuart stretched himself at full length, surrounded by his staff, in a field of clover; and placing his hat over his face to protect his eyes from the light, snatched a short sleep, of which he was very greatly in need. The column again moved, and that night camped near Taylors- ville, awaiting the work of the morrow. At daylight on the 11th, Stuart moved toward Ashland. Here he came up with the enemy ; attacked them furiously, and drove them before him, and out of the village, killing, wounding, and capturing a considerable number. Then he put his column again in motion, advanced rapidly by the Telegraph road toward Yellow Tavern, a point near Rich- mond, where he intended to intercept the enemy — the moment of decisive struggle, to which all the fighting along the roads of Hanover had only been the prelude, was at hand. Stuart was riding at the head of his column, lookiLg straight YELLOW TAVERN". 207 forward, and with no thought, apparently, save that of arriving in time. He was no longer gay, TTas it the coming event ; was it the loss of sleep ; the great interest at stake ; the terrible struggle be- fore him? I know not; but he looked anxious, feverish, almost melancholy. "My men and horses are tired, jaded, and hungry, but all right," he had written to General Bragg, from Ashland. And these words will serve in large measure to describe the condition of the great commander himself. I was riding beside him, when he turned to me and said, in a low tone: — " Do you remember a conversation which we had at Orange, Surry, that night in my tent?" "Yes, general." "And what I said?" "Every word is engraved, I think, upon my memory." "Good. Do not let one thing ever escape you. Kemember, that I said what I say again to-day, that ' Virginia expects every man to do his duty !' " "I will never forget that, general," He smiled, and rode on. For half a mile he was silent. Then I heard escape from his lips, in a low, musing voice, a refrain which I had never heard him sing before — "Soon with angels FU be marching!" * I know not why, but that low sound made me shiver. XXXVI. YELLOW TAVERN, MAY 11, 1864. Yellow Taveen ! At the mention of that name, a sort of tremor agitates me even to-day, when nearly four years have passed. * Eeal. 9* 208 MOnUN. In my eyes, the locality is cursed. A gloomy cloud seems ever hanging over it. Ko birds sing in the trees. Tlie very sunshine of the summer days is sad there. But I pass to my brief description of the place, and the event which made it one of the black names in Southern history. Yellow Tavern is an ohl dismantled hostelry, on the Brook road, about six miles from Richmond. Nothing more dreary than this desolate wayside inn can be imagined. Its doors stand open, its windows are gone, the rotting floor crumbles beneath the heel, and the winds moan through the paneless sashes, like in- visible spirits hovering near and muttering some lugubrious secret. "This is the scene of some deed of darkness!" you are tempted to mutter, as you place your feet upon the threshold. Wlien you leave the spot behind you, a weight seems lifted from your breast — you breathe freer. Such was the Yellow Tavern when I went there in the spring of 1864. Is it different to-day? Do human beings laugh there ? I know not ; but I know that nothing could make it cheerful in my eyes. It was, and is, and ever will be, a thing accursed! For the military reader, however, a few words in reference to the topographical features of the locality are necessary. Yellow Tavern is at the forks of the Telegraph and Mountain roads, six miles from Richmond. Tlie Telegraph road runs north and south — over this road Stuart marched. The Mountain road comes into it from the nortliwest. By this road Sheridan was coming. Open the left hand, with the palm upward ; the index finger pointing north. The thumb is the Mountain road ; the index- finger the Telegraph road ; where the thumb joins tlie hand is tlie Yellow Tavern in open fields; and Richmond is at the wrist. Toward the head of the thumb is a wood. Here Wickham, commanding Stuart's right, was placed, his line facing the Moun- tain road so as to strike- the approaching enemy In flank. From Wickham's left, or near it, Stuart's left wing, under Lomax, extended along the Telegraph road to the Tavern — the two lines thus forming an obtuse angle. On a hil], near Lomax's right, was Breathed with his guns. The object of this disposition of Stuart's force will be seen at YELLOW TAVERN. 9o3 a glance. Lomax, commanding the left, was across the enemy's front; Wickham, commanding the right, was on their flank; and the artillery was so posted as to sweep at once the front of both Stuart's wings. The enemy's advance would bring them to the first joint of the thumb. There they would receive Lomax's fire in front; "Wickham's in flank; and Breathed's transversely. The cross fire on that point, over which the enemy must pass, would be deadly. Take a pencil, reader, and draw the diagram, and lines of fire. That will show Stuart's excellent design. Stuart had reached Yellow Tavern, and made his dispositions before the arrival of Sheridan, who was, nevertheless, rapidly advancing by the Mountain road. Major McClellan, adjutant- general, had been sent to General Bragg, with a suggestion that the latter should attack from the direction of the city, at the moment when the cavalry assailed the Federal flank. All was ready. It was the morning of May 11th, 1864. Never was scene more beautiful and inspiring. The men were jaded, like their horses; but no heart shrank from the coming encounter. Stretching in a thin line from the tavern into the woods on the right of the Mountain road, the men sat their horses, with drawn sabres gleaming in the sun ; and the red battle-flags waved proudly in the fresh May breeze, as though saluting Stuart, who rode in front of them. Such was the scene at Yellow Tavern. The moment had come. At about eight, a stifled hum, mixed with the tramp of hoofs, was heard. Then a courier came at a gallop, from the right, to Stuart. The enemy were in sight, and advancing rapidly. Stuart was sitting his horse near Yellow Tavern when that intelligence reached him. He rose in his saddle, took his field- glasses from their leathern case, and looked through them in the direction of the woods across the Mountain road. Suddenly, quick firing came on the wind — then, loud shours. Stuart lowered liis glasses, shut them up, replaced them in their case, and drew his sabre. Never had I seen him present an appearance more superb. His head was carried proudly erect, his black plume floated, his 210 MOIIUN. l)lue ejes flashed — he was the heau ideal of a soldier, and as one of his bravest officers* afterward said to me, looked as if he luid resolved on " victory or death." I had seem him often aroused and strung for action. On this morning he seemed on lire, and resembled a veritable king of battle. Suddenly, the skirmish line of the enemy appeared in front of the woods, and a quick fire was opened on Stuart's sharp-shooters under Colonel Pate, in the angle of the two roads ; Stuart hastened to take the real initiative. He posted two guns on a rising ground in the angle, and opened a heavy fire ; and galled by this fire, the enemy suddenly made a determined charge upon the guns. Stuart rose in his stirrups and gazed coolly at the heavy line advancing upon him, and forcing Pate's handful back. "Take back the guns!" he said. They were limbered up, and went off rapidly. At the same moment Colonel Pate appeared, his men obsti- nately contesting every foot of ground as they fell back toward the Telegraph road, where a deep cut promised them advantage. Colonel Pate was a tall, fair-liaired oflk-er, with a ready smile, and a cordial bearing. He and Stuart had bitterly quarrelled, and the general had court-martialed the colonel. It is scarcely too much to say that they had been deadly enemies. For the first time now, since their collision, they met. But on this day their enmity seemed dead. The two men about to die grasped each other's hands. " They are pressing you back, colonel!" exclaimed Stuart. " Yes, general, I have but three skeleton squadrons ! and you see their force." " You are right. You have done all that any man could. Can you hold this cut?" " I will try, general." Their glances crossed. I^Tever was Stuart's face kinder. " If you say you will, you will do it 1 Hold this position to the last, colonel." "I'll hold it until I die, general." t * Breathed. t His words. YELLOW TAVERX. 211 "With a pressure of the hand they parted. Fifteen minutes afterward, Pate was dead. Attacked at once in front and on both flanks in the road, his little force had been cnt to pieces. He fell with three of his captains, and his handful were scattered. Stuart witnessed all, and his eye grew fiery. ''Pate has died the death of a hero!" * he exclaimed. " Order Wickham to dismount his brigade, and attack on tlie right!" he added to Lieutenant Garnett, aid-de-carap. Twenty minutes afterward, Wickham's men were seen advanc- ing, and driving the enemy before them. This relieved the left, and "Wickham continued to push on until he struck up against a heavy line behind rail breastworks in the woods. He then fell back, and each side remained motionless, awaiting the movement of the other. Such was the preface to the real battle of Yellow Tavern, — the species of demonstration which preluded the furious grapple. Stuart's melancholy had all vanished. He was in splendid si)irits. He hastened back his artillery to the point from which it had been driven, and soon its defiant roar was heard rising above the woods. At the same moment a courier galloped up. ""What news?" "A dispatch from Gordon, general. Stuart took it and read it with high good humor. " Gordon has had a handsome little affair this m(5rning," he said ; " he has whipped them." And looking toward the northwest — "I wish Gordon was here," * he said. The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again ad- vanced. It was nearly four o'clock. Night approached. But the great blow was coming. Stuart was sitting his horse near the guns, with Breathed be- side him. Suddenly the edge of the woods on the Mountain road swarmed with blue horsemen. As they appeared, the long lines of sabres darted from the scabbards; then they rushed like a hurricane toward the guns. * His words. 2j2 MOHUN. Tlie attack was so sudden and overpowering, that nothing could stand before it. For a short time the men fought desperately, crossing sabres and using their pistols. But the enemy's numbers were too great. The left was driven back. AVith triumphant cheers, the Federal troopers pressed upon them to drive them completely from the field. Suddenly, as the men fell back, Stuart appeared, with drawn sabre, among them, calling upon them to rally. Ilis voice rose above the fire, and a wild cheer greeted him. The men rallied, the enemy were met again, sabre to sabre, and the field became a scene of the most desperate conflict. Stuart led every charge. I shall never forget the appearance which he presented at that moment; with one hand he controlled his restive horee, with the other he grasped his sabre ; in his cheeks burned the hot blood of the soldier. "Breathed !" he exclaimed. "General!" "Take command of all the mounted men in the road, and hold it against whatever may come ! If this road is lost, we aregone !" * Breathed darted to the head of the men and shouted : — "Follow me!" His sword flashed lightning, and digging the spur into his horse, he darted ahead of the column, disappearing in the middle of a swarm of enemies. A superb sight followed. Breathed was seen in the midst of the Federal cavalry defending himself, with pistol and sabre, against the blows which were aimed at him on every side. He cut one ofllcer out of the saddle ; killed a lieutenant with a pistol ball; was shot slightly in the side, and a sabre stroke laid open his head. But five minutes afterward he was seen to clear a path with his sabre, and reappear, streaming with blood, f The momentary repulse ettected nothing. The enemy re-formed their line, and again charged the guns, which were pouring a heavy fire upon them. As they rushed forward, the hoofs of their horses shook the ground A deafening cheer arose from the blue line. * His words. t This incident, like all here related as attending this battle, Is rigidly true. YELLOW TAVEEX. 213 Stnart was looking at them, and spurred out in front of the guns. His eyes flashed, and, taking off his brown felt hat, he waved it and cheered. Then he wheeled to take command of a column of Lomax's men, coming to meet the charge. They were too late. In a moment the enemy Avere trampling among the guns. x\.ll but one were captured, and that piece was saved only by the terror of'the drivers. They lashed their horses into a gallop, and rushed toward the Chickahominy, followed by the cannoneers who were cursing them, and shouting : — "For God's sake, boys, let's go back ! They've got Breathed ! Let's go back to him !"* That terror of the drivers, which the cannoneers cursed so bit- terly, ended all. The gun, whirling on at wild speed, suddenly struck against the head of the column advancing to meet the enemy. A war-engine hurled against it could not have more effectually broken it. Before it could re-form the enemy had struck it, forced it back ; and then the whole Federal force of cavalry was hurled upon Stuart. His right, where Fitz Lee commanded in person, was giviiig back. His left was broken and driven. The day was evidently lost ; and Stuart, with a sort of desperation, rushed into the midst of the enemy, calling upon his men to rally, and firing his pistol in the faces of the Federal cavalrymen. Suddenly, one of them darted past him toward the rear, and as he did so, placed his pistol nearly on Stuart's body, and fired. As the man disappeared in the smoke, Stuart's hand went quickly to his side, he reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen had not Captain Dorsay, of the First Virginia Cavalry, caught him in his arms. The bullet had passed through his side into the stomach, and wounded him mortally. In its passage, it just grazed a small Bible in his pocket. The Bible was the gift of his mother — but the Almighty had decreed that it should not turn the fatal bullet. Stuart's immense vitality sustained him for a moment. Pale, and tottering in the saddle, he still surveyed the field, and called on the men to rally. * Their words. 214 MOHUN. "Go back," he exclaimed, "and do your dutj, as I Iiave done mine ! And our country will be safe !" * A moment afterward he called out again to the men passing him : — " Go back ! go back ! I'd rather die than be whipped I" * The old lightning flashed from his eyes as he spoke. Then a mist passed over them ; his head sank upon his breast ; and, still supported in the saddle, he was led through the woods toward the Chickahominv. Suddenly, Fitzhugh Lee, who had been stubbornly fighting on the right, galloped up, and accosted Stuart. His face was flushed, his eyes moist. "You are wounded I" he exclaimed. "Badly," Stuart replied, "but look out, Fitz ! Yonder they come !" A glance showed all. In the midst of a wild uproar of clashing sabres, quick shots, and resounding cries, the Federal cavalry w'ere rushing forward to overwhelm the disordered lines. Stuart's eye flashed for the last time. Turning to General Fitzhugh Lee, he exclaimed in a full, sonorous voice : — " Go ahead, Fitz, old fellow ! I know you will do what is right I"* This was the last order he ever gave upon the field. As he spoke, his head sank, his eyes closed, and he was borne toward the rear. There was scarcely time to save him from capture. His wound seemed to have been the signal for his lines to break. They had now given way everywhere — the enemy were pressing them with loud shouts. Fighting with stubborn desperation, they fell back toward the Chickahominy, which they crossed, hotly pressed by the victorious enemy. Stuart had been placed in an ambulance and borne across the stream, where Dr. Randolph and Dr. Fontaine made a brief ex- amination of his wound. It was plainly mortal — but he was hastily driven, by way of Mechanicsville, into Richmond. His hard fighting had saved the city. "When Sheridan attacked, he was repulsed. * His ■words. YELLOW TAVERN. 215 But the capital was clearly purchased. Twenty-four hours afterward Stnart was dead . The end of the great cavalier had been as serene as his life was stormy. His death was that of the Christian warrior, who bows to the will of God, and accepts whatever His loving hand decrees for hira. He asked repeatedly that his favorite hymns should be sung for him ; and when President Davis visited him, and asked : — "General, how do you feel?" "Easy, but willing to die," he said, "if God and my country think I have fulfilled my destiny, and done my duty."* As night came, he requested his physician to inform him if he thought he would live till morning. The physician replied that his death was rapidly approaching, when he faintly bowed his head, and murmured : — ■ " I am resigned, if it be God's will. I should like to see my wife, but God's will be done." * When the proposed attack upon Sheridan, near Mechanicsville, was spoken of in his presence, he said : — " God grant that it may be successfull I wish I could be there." '^ Turning his face toward tlie pillow, he added, with tears in his eyes, " but I must prepare for another world," * Feeling now that his end was near, he made his last dispositions. " You will find in my hat," he said to a member of his staff, " a little Confederate flag, which a lady of Columbia, South Carolina, sent me, requesting that I would wear it on my horse in battle, and return it to her. Send it to her." * He gave then the name of the lady, and added : — "My spurs — those always worn in battle — I promised to give to Mrs. Lily Le^e, at Shepherdstown. My sabre I leave to ray son." * His horses and equipments were then given to his staff — his papers directed to be sent to his wife. A prayer was then offered by the minister at his bedside : his lips moved as he repeated the words. As the prayer ended he murmured : — " I am going fast now — I am resigned. God's will be done!" * As the words escaped from his lips, he expired. * His ■words. 216 MOHUN. BOOK III. BEHIXD THE SCENES. I. ^HAT I DID XOT SEE. I WAS not at Stuarfs bedside when he died. "While aiding tlie rest to hold him in the saddle, I had been shot through the shoul- der ; and twenty-four hours afterward I lay, at the house of a friend in Richmond, turning and tossing with fever. In my delirium I heard a mournful tolling of bells. It was many days, however, before I knew that they were tolling for Stuart. AVhen, at last, after more than a month's confinement to my bed, I rose, and began to totter about, — pale, faint, and weak, but convalescent — my great loss, for the first time, struck me in all its force. "Where should I turn now — and whither should I go? Jackson dead at Chancellorsville — Stuart at Yellow Tavern — thenceforth I seemed to have lost my support, to grope and totter in dark- ness, without a guide! These two kings of battle had gone down in the storm, and, like the Knight of Arthur, I looked around me, with vacant and inquiring eyes, asking whither I was now to direct my steps, and what work I should work in the coming years. Jackson I Stuart I — who could replace them? They had loved and trusted me — their head-quarters had been my home. Xow, when they disappeared, I had no friends, no home ; and aa inexpressible sense of loss descended upon me, as a dark cloud descends and obscures a landscape, smiling and full of sunshine. WHAT I DID NOT SEE. 217 Another woe had come to me. My father was dead. The war had snapped the chords of that stout heart as it snapped the chords of thousands, and the illustrious head of the house had descended into the tomb. From this double blow I scarcely had strensrth to rise. For weeks I remained in a sort of dumb stupor; and was only aroused from it by the necessity of looking after my family affairs. As soon as I had strength to mount my horse, I rode to Eagle's Nest, A good aunt had come and installed herself as the friend and protector of my little Annie ; and with the arms of my young sister around me, I wept for my father. I remained at Eagle's Nest more than two months. The long ride had made the wound in my shoulder reopen, and I was again stretched upon a bed of illness, from which, at one time, I thought I sliould not rise. More than once I made a narrow escape from scouting parties of Federal cavalry in the neighborhood ; and on one occasion, an officer entered my chamber, but left me unmo- lested, under the impression that I was too ill to live. It was late in the month of August before I rose from ray bed again, and set out on my return. In those three months and a half — counting from the time I left Spottsylvania with Stuart — great events had happened in Virginia. Grant's hammer and Lee's rapier had been clashing day and night. Hill and valley, mountain and lowland — Virginia and Maryland — liad thundered. General Grant had hastened forward from the Wilderness, only to find Lee confronting him behind breastworks at Spottsylvania Court-House. The Confederate co^imander had taken up a de- fensive position on the line of the Po ; and for more than two weeks Grant threw his masses against the works of his adversary, in desperate attempts to break through. On the 12th of May, at daylight, he nearly succeeded. " The Horse Shoe" salient Avas charged in the dusk of morning; the Southerners were surprised, and bayoneted in the trenches ; the works carried; the artillery captured ; and a large number of prisoners fell into the hands of the enemy. The blow was heavy, but General Grant derived little advantage from it. Lee rallied his troops; funued a new line ; and repulsed 218 Monu^. every assault made on it, throughout the entire day. When night fell, Grant had not advanced further; Lee's position was stronger than before, and plainly impregnable. For many days, Grant was occupied in reconnoitring and feeling his adversary. At the end of a week, the hope of break- ing Lee's line was seen to be desperate. Then commenced the second great "movement by the left flank" toward Richmond. Grant disappeared one morning, and hastened toward Hanover Junction. TThen he arrived, Lee was there in his front, ready to receive him. And the new position was stronger, if any thing, than that of Spottsylvania. Grant felt it; abandoned the attempt to carry it, at once; and again moved, on his swift and stealthy way, by the left flank toward Richmond. Crossing the Pamnnkey at Ilanovertown, he made straight for the capital ; but reaching the Tottapotomoi, he found Lee again awaiting him. Then the days and nights thundered, as tliey had been thun- dering since the day when Grant crossed the Rnpidan. Lee could not be driven, and the Federal movement by tlie left flank be- gan again. Grant made for Cold Harbor, and massed his army to burst through the Chickahominv, and seize Richmond. The huge en- gine began to move at daylight, on the third of June. Half an hour afterward, 13,000 of General Grant's forces were dead or wounded. He was repulsed and driven back. His whole loss, from the moment of crossing the Rapidan, had been about 60,000 men. That ended all hopes of forcing the lines of the Chickahominy. The Federal commander gave up the attempt in despair, and re- sumed his "Wandering-Jew march. Moving still by the left flank, he hastened to cross James River and advance on Petersburg. But Lee was again too rapid for him. In the works south of the Appomatox the gray infantry, under the brave General Wise, confronted the enemy. They repulsed every assault, and Grant sat down to lay siege to Richmond from the distance of thirty miles. Such had been the great campaign of the summer of 1864 in Virginia. Lee had everywhere stood at bay, and repulsed every WHAT I DID KOT SEE. 219 attack: he had also struck in return a grjat aggressive blow, in Maryland. At Cold Harbor, early in June, news had arrived that a Federal column, under Hunter, was advancing on Lynchburg. A force was sent to intercept Hunter, under the command of Early. That hard fighter crossed the mountains ; attacked his adversary ; drove him beyond the Alleghanies; and then, returning on his steps, hurried down the Shenandoah Valley toward the Potomac, driving every thing before him. Once at the Potomac, he hasten- ed to cross into Maryland. Once in Maryland, Early advanced, without loss of time, upon Washington. At Monocacy her met and defeated General Wallace ; pressed after him toward Wash- ington ; and reaching the outer works, advanced his lines to the assault. But he had but a handful, after the long and prostrating march. His numbers were wholly inadequate to storm the de- fences of the capital. Grant had sent forward, in haste, two army corps to defend the city, and Early was compelled to re- treat across the Potomac to the Shenandoah Valley, with the sole satisfaction of reflecting that he had given the enemy a great "scare," and had flaunted the red-cross flag in front of the ram- parts of Washington. I have not space to describe the cavalry movements of the summer. Hampton had succeeded Stuart in command of all the cavalry, and the country soon heard the ring of his heavy blows. In June, Sheridan was sent to capture Gordonsville and Char- lottesville ; but Hampton checked and defeated him in a fierce action near Trevillian's, and in another at Charlottesville ; pur- sued him to the White House; hurried him on to James River; and Sheridan crossed that stream on pontoons, glad, no doubt, to get back to the blue infantry. Hampton crossed also ; pene- trated to Dinwiddle ; defeated the enemy at Sappony church, capturing their men and artillery — everywhere they had been routed, with a total loss of more than 2,000 prisoners. Such were the events which had taken place during my tedious illness. They came to me only in vague rumors, or by means of chance newspapers sent by my neighbors. At last, however, I 220 M O n U N . rose from ray sick couch, and embracing my aunt and sister, who were to remain together at Eagle's Nest, set out on my return. Stuart's staff were all scattered, and seeking new positions. I was one of them, and I again asked myself more gloomily than at first, " Where shall I go ?" The gentlemen of the red tape at Richmond would doubtless inform me, however; and riding on steadily, with a keen look out for scouting parties, I at last reached the city. On the next day I filed my application in the war oflSce, to be assigned to duty. A week afterward T had not heard from it. Messieurs, the red tapists, were evidently not in the least bit of a hurry — and hat in hand I awaited their good pleasure. n. THE "DOOMED CITY." RiCHiioxD presented a singular spectacle in that summer of 1864. It was styled " the doomed city," by our friends over the bor- der, and in truth there was something gloomy and tragic in its appearance — in the very atm.osphere surrounding it. On every countenance you could read anxiety, poverty, the wasting effect of the terrible suffering and suspense of the epoch. All things combined to deepen the colors of the sombre picture. Hope long deferred had sickened the stoutest hearts. Men were nervous, anxious, burnt up by the hot fever of war. Provisions of every description were sold at enormous prices. Fathers of families could scarcely procure the plainest food for their wives and children. The streets were dotted with poor widows, be- reaved sisters, weeping mothers, and pale daughters, whose black dresses told the story of their loss to all eyes. Hunger clutched at the stomach; agony tore the heart. Soldiers, pale and totter- ing from their wounds, staggered by. Cannon rattled through THE "DOOMED CITY." 901 the streets. Couriers clashed backward and forward from the telegraph office to the war office. The poor starved — the rich scarcely fared any better. Black hair had become white. Stal- wart frames were bent and shrunken. Spies and secret emis- saries lurked, and looked at you sidewise. Forestallers crowded the markets. Bread was doled out by the ounce. Confederate money by the bushel. Gold was hoarded and buried. Cowards shrunk and began to whisper— "the flesh pots! the flesh pots! they were better!" Society was uprooted from its foundations. Strange characters were thrown up. The scum had come to the top, and bore itself bravely in the sunshine. The whole social fabric seemed warped and wrenched from its base; and in the midst of this chaos of starving women, feverish men, spies, ex- tortioners, blockade-runners, — over the "doomed city," day and night, rolled the thunder of the cannon, telling that Grant and Lee were still holding their high debate at Petersburg. Such was Eichmond at the end of summer in 18G-4. Society was approaching one of those epochs, when all things appear unreal, monstrous, gliding toward some great catastrophe. All rascaldom was rampant. The night-birds had come forth. Vice stalked, and flaunted its feathers in the light of day. Chaos seemed coming, and with it all the powers of darkness. That spectacle was singular to a soldier, bred in camps, and habituated, now, for some years, to the breezy airs of " the field." I looked on with astonishment. The whole drama seemed un- real — the characters mere players. Who was A, and B, and what did C do for a living ? You knew not, but they bowed, and smiled, and were charming. They grasped your hand, offered you cigars, invited you to supper — they w-anted nothing. And they found no difficulty in procuring guests. I was no better than the rest, reader — there is an honest confession — and, looking back now, I can see that I knew, and dined or supped with some queer characters in those days. Shall I give you a brief sketch of one of these worthies and his surroundings? It will afford some idea of the strange con- trasts then presented in the "doomed" and starving city. 222 MOHUN. III. I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. He was a prominent personage at that time — my friend (in a parliamentary sense at least) Mr. Bloeque. He was a charming little fellow, acqiiaintecl with everybody— an "employee of government," but employed to do heaven knows what; and while others were starving, Mr. Blocqiie was as plump as a partridge. He wore the snowiest shirt bosoms, glittering with diamond studs; the finest broadcloth coats; the most brilliant patent leather shoes; and his fat little hands sparkled with costly rings. He was constantly smiling in a manner that was delightful to behold ; hopped about and chirped like a sparrow or tomtit ; and was the soul of good humor and enjoyment. There was no resisting his charms; he conquered you in five minutes. "When he linked his arm in yours, and chirped, '"My dear friejid, come and dine with me — at five o'clock precisely — I shall certainly expect you !" it was impossible to refuse the small gentleman's invitation. Perhaps you asked yourself, "Who is my dear friend, Mr, Bloeque — how does he live so well, and wear broadcloth and fine linen?" But the next moment you smiled, shrugged your shoulders, elevated your eye- brows, and — went to dine with him. I was like all the world, and at five o'clock one evening was shown into Mr. Blocque's elegant residence on Shockoe Hill, by a servant in white gloves, who bowed low, as he ushered me iu. Mr. Bloeque hastened to receive me, with his most charming smile; I was introduced to the guests, who had all arrived; and ten minutes afterward the folding doors opened, revealing a superb banquet — for the word " dinner " would be too common- place. The table was one mass of silver. Waxlights, in can- delabra, were already lit ; and a host of servants waited, silent and respectful, behind every chair. The guests were nearly a dozen in number, and more than one prominent " government official " honored Mr. Blocque's repast. I had been introduced among the rest to Mr. Torpedo, member I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. 223 of Congress, and bitter foe of President Davis; Mr. Croker, -who had made an enormous fortune by buying up, and boarding in garrets and cellars, flour, bacon, coffee, sugar, and other neces- saries; and Colonel Desperade, a tall and warlike officer in a splendid uniform, who had never been in the army, but intended to report for duty, it was supposed, as soon as he was made brigadier-general. The dinner was excellent. The table literally groaned with every delicacy. Everywhere vou saw canvass-back ducks, grouse, salmon, pat6 de foie gras, oysters; the champagne, was really superb ; the Madeira and sherry beyond praise; and the cigars excellent Havanas, which at that time were rarely seen, and cost fabulous prices. Think, old army comrades, starving on a quarter of a pound of rancid bacon during that summer of '64 — think of that magical bill of fare, that array of wonders ! Who was the magician who had evoked all this by a wave of his wand? How could smiling Mr. Blocque roll in luxury thus, when everybody else was starving? How could my host wear broadcloth, and drink champagne and smoke Havanas, when rag- ged clothing, musty bacon, and new apple-abomination, were the order of the day with all others ? These questions puzzled me extremely ; but there was the magician before us, smiling in the most friendly manner, and pressing his rich wines on his guests, as they sat around the pol- ished mahogany smoking their cigars. Elegantly clad servants hovered noiselessly behind the convives — the wine circulated — the fragrant smoke rose — the conversation became general — and all was animation. "No, sir!" says Mr. Torpedo, puffing fiercely at his cigar, " the President never will assign Johnston to command again, sir! You call Mr. Davis 'pig-headed,' Mr. Croker — you are wrong, sir ! You do injustice to the pigs, sir ! Pigs are not insane, sir !" And Mr. Torpedo sucks at his cigar, as though he were a vam- pire, extracting the blood of his victim. Mr. Croker sips his wine ; he is large and portly ; ruddy and pompous; his watch seals jingle; and he rounds his periods with the air of a millionaire, who is atjrfustbmed try b'e listened to with d^ftfi'ence. 10 224 MOnUN. "You are right, my dear, sir," says Mr. Croker, clearin;? liis throat. " The Government has assuredly been administered, from its very inception, in a manner which the most enthusiastic ad- herents of the Executive will scarcely venture to characterize as cither judicious or constitutional. In the year which has just elapsed, things have been managed in a manner which must ex- cite universal reprobation. Even the alleged performances of the army are problematical, and — " "I beg your pardon, sir," says Colonel Desperade, twirling his mustache in a warlike manner ; " do I understand you to call in question the nerve of our brave soldiers, or the generalship of our great commander?" " I do, sir," says Mr. Croker, staring haughtily at the speaker. "I am not of those enthusiasts who consider G-eneral Lee a great soldier. He has succeeded in defensive campaigns, but is defi- cient in genius — and I will add, sir, as you seem to be surprised at my remarks, sir, that in my opinion the Southern Confederacy will be overwhelmed, sir, and the South compelled to return to the Union, sir!" "Upon what do you ground that extraordinary assumption, may I ask, sir?" " On common sense and experience, sir," returns Mr. Croker, severely; "look at the currency — debased until the dollar is merely a piece of paper. Look at prices — coffee, twenty dollars a pound, and sugar the same. Look at the army starving — the people losing heart — and strong, able-bodied men," adds Mr. Croker, looking at Colonel Desperade, "lurking about the cities, and keeping out of the way of bullets." The mustached warrior looks ferocious — his eyes dart flame. " And who causes the high prices, sir ? 'Who makes the money a rag? I answer — the forestallers and engrossers — do you kijow any, sir?" "I do not, sir!" "That is singular! * And Colonel Degperade twirls his mustache satirically — look- ing at the pompous Mr. Croker in a manner which makes that ivorthy turn scarlet. I was laughing to myself quietly, and listening for the ex- I DINE WITH MR. BLOCQUE. 225 pected outbreak, ^lien Mr. Blocqiie interposed with his winning voice. " TChat are you discussing, gentlemen ?" he said, with his charming smile. "But first tell me your opinion of this Madeira and those cigars. My agent writes me word that he used every exertion to procure the best. Still, I am not entirely pleased with either the wMne or brand of cigars, and hope you will ex- cuse them. Were you speaking of our great President, Mr. Tor- pedo ? And you, Mr. Croker — I think you were referring to the present state of affairs. They appear to me more hopeful than at any previous time, and his Excellency, President Davis, is guid- ing the helm of state with extraordinary courage and good judg- ment. I know some of you differ with me in these views, my friends. But let us not be censorious — let us look on the bright side. The troubles of the country are great, and we of the South are suffering every privation — but we must bear up, gentlemen ; we must keep brave hearts, and endure all things. Let us live on dry bread if it comes to that, and bravely fight to the last ! Let us cheerfully endure hardships, and oppose the enemy at all points. Our present troubles and privations w^ill soon come to an end — we shall again be surrounded by the comforts and luxu- ries of life — and generations now unborn will bless our names, and pity our sufferings in these days that try men's souls!" Mr. Blocque ceased, and smoothing down his snowy shirt bosom, pushed the wine. At the same moment, an alabaster clock on the marble mantel-piece struck seven. " So late ?" said Colonel Desperarde. " I have an appointment at the war office !" Mr. Blocque drew out a magnificent gold watch. "The clock is fast," he said, "keep your seats, gentlemen, — unless you fancy going to the theatre. My private box is at your disposal, and carriages will be ready in a few minutes." As the charming little gentleman spoke, he led the way back to the drawing-room — the folding doors flanked by silent and respectful servants as the guests passed in. In five ujinutes, coffee and liqueurs were served ; both were superb, the white sugar sparkled like crystal in the silver dish, and the cream in the solid jug was yellow and as thick as a syrup. 226 MOnUN. '•Shall it be the theatre, jrentlemen ?" said Mr. Blocque, with Avinning smiles. "We can amuse ourselves with cards for an hour, as the curtain does not rise before eight." And he pointed to a silver basket on the centre table of carved walnut, surmounted bv a slab of variegated marble. I looked, and saw the croM-ning wonder. The silver basket contained piles of gold coin and greenbacks! Not a trace of a Confederate note was visible in the mass ! Packs of fresh cards were brought quickly bv a servant, on a silver waiter; the guests helped themselves to the coin and bank notes; in ten minutes thej were X)laying furiously. As I do not play, I rose and took my leave. !Mr. Blocque ac- companied me to the door, smiling sweetly to the last. " Come again very soon, my dear colonel," he said, squeezing my hand, "my poor house, and all iu it, is at your service at all times!" I thanked my host, shook hands, and went out into the dark- ness, — determined never to return. I had had an excellent dinner, and, physically, had never felt better. Morally, I must say, I felt contaminated, for, unfortu- nately, i had begun to think of Lee's hungry soldiers, lying in rags, in the Petersburg trenches. " Eight o'clock ! All is well!" came from the sentinel, as I passed by the capitol. IV. JOHX M. DAXIEL. Ox the day after this scene, a trifling matter of business led me to call on John M. Daniel, editor of the Examiner. The career of this singular personage had been as remarkable as his character. He was not a stranger to me. I had known him in 1849 or '50, when I accompanied my father on a visit to Kichmondj and I still recall the stiikin^j? appearanc'e of the iiidi- JOHX M. DANIEL. 22T vidiial at tliat time. He had come, a poor boy of gentle birth, from the bleak hills of Stafford, to the city of Richmond, to seek his fortune, and, finding nothing better to do, had accepted the position of librarian to the Richmond library, waiting for some- thing to "turn up," and ready to grasp it. About the same time, that experienced journalist, the late B. M. De Witt, had founded the Exaviiner. He, no doubt, saw the eminent talents of the youth from Stafford, and the result had been an invitation to assist in the editorial departmentof the journal. Going to the Richmond library, to procure for my father some volume for reference, I had made the acquaintance of the youth- ful journalist. At the first glance, I felt that I was in the pres- ence of an original character. His labors on the Examiner had just commenced. He was seated, half-reclining, in an arm-chair, surrounded by "exchanges," from which he clipped paragraphs, throwing the papers, as soon as he had done so, in a pile upon the floor. His black eyes, long black hair, brushed behind the ears, and thin, sallow cheeks, were not agreeable; but they made up a striking physiognomy. The black eyes glittered with a sul- len fire; the thin lips were wreathed with a sardonic smile ; and I was informed that the youth lived the life of a solitaire^ volun- tarily absenting himself from society, to give his days and nights to exhausting study. He read every thing, it was said — history, poetry, political economy, and theology. Swift was said to be his literary divinity, and Rabelais was at his elbow always. Poor, uneducated, ignorant of nearly every thing, he was educating himself for the future — sharpening, by attrition with the strongest minds' in all literatures, ancient and modern, that trenchant weapon which afterward flashed its superb lightnings in the heated atmosphere of the great epoch in which he figured. Bitter, misanthropic, solitary; burning the midnight lamp, instead of moving among his fellows in the sunshine, he yet pos- sessed hardy virtues and a high pride of gentleman. He hated the world at large, it was said, but loved his few friends with an ardor which shrank at nothing. One of them owed a sum of money — and Daniel went on foot, twenty-two miles, to Peters- burg, paid it, and returned in the same manner. Afterward he 228 ATOIIUN. ■went in person to Charlottesville, to purchase a liouse for the use of another friend of limited means. For his friends he was thus willing to sacrifice his convenience and his means, without tlionght of return. All who were not his friends, he is said to have hated or despised. An acquaintance was in his room one day, and showed him a valuable pen-knife. Daniel admired it, and the gentleman said " You may have it, if you like it." Daniel turned upon him, scowled at him, his lip curled, and he replied, " What do you expect rae to do for you?" His other virtues were self-denial, and a proud independence. At the library, he lived on bread and tea — often making the tea himself. Too poor to possess a chamber, he slept on a lounge in the public room. He would owe no man any thing, asked no favors, and fawned on nobody. He would fight his own fight, make his own way ; with the intellect heaven had sent him, carve out his own future, unassisted. The sallow youth, groan- ing under dyspepsia, with scarce a friend, and nothing but his brain, promised himself that he would one day rise from his low estate, and wield the thunderbolts of power, as one born to grasp and hurl them. He was not mistaken, and did not overestimate his powers. TThen I saw him in 1849 or '50, he was obscurest of the obscure. Two or three vears afterward he had made the Examiner one of the great powers of the political world, and was living in a palace at Turin, minister to Sardinia. He had achieved this success in life bv the sheer force of his character ; bv the vigor and recklessness of his pen, and the intensity of his invect- ive. Commencing his editorial career, apparently, with the theory that, in order to rise into notice, he must spare nothing and no one, he had entered the arena of partisan politics like a full armed gladiator ; and soon the whole country resounded with the blows which he struck. Bitter personality is a feeble phrase to describe the animus of the writer in those days. There was something incredibly exasperating in his comments on political opponents. He flayed and roasted them alive. It was like thrusting a blazinc: torch into the raw flesh of his victims. !N"or was it simple "abuse." The satirist was too intelligent to rely upon that. It was his scorching wit which made opponents JOHN M. DANIEL. 229 shrink. His scalpel divided the arteries, and touched the vitals of the living subject. Personal peculiarities were satirized with unfailing acumen. The readers of the Examiner, in those days, will still recaU the tremendous flaying which he administered to his adversaries. It may almost he said, that when the remorse- less editor had finished with these gentlemen, there was "nothing of them left "—what lay before him was a bleeding and mortally wounded victim. And what was worse, all the world was laugh- ing. Those who looked with utter disapproval upon his ferocious course, were still unable to resist the influence of his mordant humor. They denounced the Examiner without stint, but they subscribed to it, and read it every morning. "Have you seen the Examiner to-day?" asked the friend whom you met on the street. "John M. Daniel is down on Blank!" said A to B, rubbing his hands and laughing. Blank may have been the personal ac- quaintance and friend of Mr. A, but there was no resisting the cartoon of him, traced by the pen of the satirist! The portrait might be a caricature, but it was a terrible likeness ! The Ion- nose was very long; the round shoulders, very round; the cast in the eye, a frightful squint; but the individual was unmistakable. The bitter humor of the artist had caught and embodied every weakness. Thenceforth, the unfortunate adversary went on his way before all eyes, the mark of suppressed ridicule and laugh- ing whispers. Whether you approved or disapproved, you read those tremendous satires. Not to see the Examiner in those davs was to miss a part of the history of the times. The whole political world felt the presence of a poioer in journalism. Into all the recesses of the body politic, those shafts of ridicule or de- nunciation penetrated. That venomous invective pierced the hardest panoply. For the first time' in American journalism, the world saw the full force of ridicule ; and tasted a bitterness of invective unknown since the days of Swift. Out of these personal attacks grews numerous duels. The butts of the editor's ridicule sent him defiances, and he was en- gaged in several affairs, which, however, resulted in nothing, or nearly nothing, as I believe he was wounded only once. They did not induce him to change his course. He seemed to have marked out his career in cold blood, and was plainly resolved to 230 Monux. adhere to his programme — to write himself into power. In this he fully succeeded. By dint of slashing and flaying, he attracted the attention of all. Then his vigorous and mpfied with his watch-fob unless it con- UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. 241 " tains a gold watch. Sometimes he has two watch-fobs ; some- " times d score. ***** "Tliis rosy child of Richmond lives, develops, gets into and " out of scrapes — a merry witness of our social unrealities. lie " looks on ready to laugh ; ready also for something else, for "pocketing whatever he can lay his hands on. Whoever you " are, you that call yourselves Honor, Justice, Patriotism, In- " dependence, Freedom, Candour, Honesty, Right, beware of the " grinning blockade-runner. He is growing. He will continue " to grow. " Of what clay is he made ? Part Baltimore street-dirt, part " James River mud, best part and worst part sacred soil of Pales- " tine. What will become of him in the hands of the potter, '' chance? Heaven grant that he may be ground into his original " powder before he is stuck up on our mantel-pieces as a costly "vase, in which the choice flowers of our civilization can but " wither and die." Admire that grim humor, reader — the firm stroke with which this Aristophanes of 1864 drew my friend, Mr. Blocqne. See how he reproduced every trait, delineated the worthy in his exact colors, and, at the foot of the picture, wrote, as it were, " Here is going to be the founder of ' one of the old families,' — one of the ornaments of the future, who will come out of the war rich, and be a costly vase, not a vessel of dishonor, as at present." Grim satirist! You saw far, and I think we want you to- day! VII. UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. I HAD dined with Mr. Blocque; two days afterward I went to sup with Judge Conway. Does the reader remember his appearance at Culpeper Court- House, on the night of the ball after the review in June, 1863 ? 242 M O H U X . On that evening he had excited my astonishment by abruptly ter- minating the interview between his daugliter and Captain Davenant ; and I little supposed that 1 would ever penetrate the motive of that action, or become intimate with the performer. Yet the chance of war had decreed that both events should occur. All will be, in due time, explained to the reader's satis- faction ; at present we will simply make the acquaintance of one of the most distinguished statesmen of the epoch. My friendly relations with the judge came about in a very simple manner. He was an intimate associate of the gentleman at whose house I was staying; had taken great interest in my recovery after Yellow Tavern ; and therefore had done me the honor to bestow his friendship upon me. On the dav to which we have now come. Judge Conwav had made a speech of surpassing eloquence, in Congress, on the con- dition of the country, and I had listened, thrilling at the brave voice which rang out its sonorous, "All's well I'' amid the storm. I was now going to call on the statesman to express my admira- tion of his eloquent appeal, and converse upon the exciting topics of the hour. I found him in a mansion not far from the splendid residence of Mr. Blocque. Here he occupied " apartments,'' or rather a single room, — and, in 1804, my dear reader, that was a very com- mon mode of living. Like others. Judge Conway was too poor to occupy a whole house, — even too poor to board. He had a single apartment, con- taining a few chairs and a bed ; was waited on by a maid ; and, I think, prepared his own meals, which were plain to povert}'. He met ine at the door of his bare and poor-looking apart- ment, extending his hand with the gracious and stately courtesy of the ancient regime. His figure was small, slight, and bent by age ; his face, thin and pale ; his hair nearly white, and falling in long curls upon his shoulders ; under the gray brows sparkled keen, penetrating, but benignant eyes. As I pressed the hand of my host, and looked around the poor apartment, I could not refrain from a sentiment of profound bit- terness. Two days before I had dined at the table of a peddling blockade-runner, who ate canvass-backs, drank champagne, wore UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. 0^3 "fine linen," and, dodging the conscript officers, revelled in lux- ury and plenty. And now here before me was a gentleman of ancient lineage, whose ancestors had been famous, who had him- self played a great part in the history of the commonwealth, — and this gentleman was poor, lived in lodgings, had scarce a penny; he had been wealthy, and was still the owner of great possessions; but the bare land was all that was left him for sup- port. He had been surrounded with luxury, but had sacrificed all to the cause. He had had two gallant sons, but they had fallen at the first Manassas — their crossed swords were above his poor bare mantel-piece. From the splendid table of the sneaking blockade-runner, I had come to the poverty-stricken apartment of this great statesman and high-bred gentleman. "Oh, Juvenal !" I muttered, " it is your satires, not the bucol- ics of Virgil, that suit this epoch !" The old statesman pointed, with all the grace of a nobleman, to a bare rocking-chair, and received my congratulations upon his speech with modest simplicity. " I am glad that my views are honored by your good opinion, colonel," he said, " and that you approve of the tone of them. I am naturally given to invective — a habit derived from my friend, the late Mr. Randolph ; but the country wants encouragement." " And yet not to satirize is so hard, my dear sir I" "Very hard." "Think of the army depleted — the soldiers starving — the finances in ruin, and entire destruction threatening us!" The old statesman was silent. A moment afterward he raised his head, and with his thin finger pointed to the crossed swords above his raantel-piece. " I try to bear and forbear since I lost my poor boys," he said. " They died for their country — I ought to live for it, and do what I can in my sphere — to suppress my bitterness, and try to utter words of good cheer. But we are discussing gloomy topics. Let us come to more cheerful matters. . I am in very good spirits to-day. My daughters have come to make me a visit," and the old face glowed with smiles; its expression was quite charming. "I ^de you do not apjft'^ciate that gi'eat tr'cut, my dear 244 M O H U N . colonel," lie added, smiling. " Yon are yet unmarried, thongh I rejoice to hear you are soon to be united to a daughter of my old friend, Colonel Beverly, of " TliQ Oaks." Some day I hope you will know the great charm of paternity. This morning I was lonely — this evening I am no longer so. Georgia and Virginia have come up from my house, "Five Forks," escorted by my faithful old Juba, and they burst in upon me like the sunshine!" The words had scarcely been uttered when a tap came at the door; a voice said, "May we come in, papa?" and a moment afterward the door opened, and admitted Miss Georgia Conway and her sister Virginia. Miss Georgia was the same tall and superb beauty, with the dark hair and eyes ; Miss Virginia the same winning little blonde, ■with tlie blue eyes, and the smiles which made her lips resemble rose-buds. The young ladies were clad in poor, faded-looking calicoes, and the slippers on the small feet, peeping from their skirts, were full of holes. Such was the appearance presented in that summer of 18G4, my dear reader, by two of the most elegant and " aristocratic " young ladies of Virginia! But you did not look at the calicoes, and soon forgot the holes in the shoes. My bow was such as I should have bestowed on two princesses, and the young ladies received it with a grace and courtesy which were charming. In ten minutes we were all talking like old friends, and the young ladies were making tea. This was soon ready; some bread, without butter, was placed upon the little table ; and the meal was the most cheerful and happy imaginable. " Oh, my dear Mr. Blocque!" I could not help saying to myself, "keep your champagne, and canvass-backs, and every luxury, and welcome ! I like dry bread and tea, with this company, better!" I have not room to repeat the charming words, mingled with laughter, of the young women, on that evening. Their presence vras truly like sunshine, and you could see the reflection of it upon the old statesman's countenance. Only once that countenance was overshadowed. I had uttered the name of "Willie Davenant, by accident; and then all at once remembering the scene at Culpcper Court-House, had looked UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. 245 quietly at Judge Conway and Miss Virginia. A deep frown was on liis face-that of the young girl was crimson with blushes, and two tears came to her eyes, as she caught her father's glance of displeasure. , . , I hastened to change the topic-to banish the dangerous sub- iect- and in a few moments everybody was smiling once more. Aliss' Georgia, in her stately and amusing way, was relatmg their experiences from a scouting party of the enemy, at " Five Forks. "I heard something of this from old Juba,|^' said the Judge ; "you do not mention your deliverer, however." "Our deliverer, papa?" " General Mohun." Mi-^s Georgia unmistakably blushed in her turn. "Oh I forgot!" she said, carelessly, "General Mohun did drive them off. Did I not mention it?— I should have done so before finishing, papa." As she spoke, the young lady happened to catch my eye. I was lau-hing quietly. Thereupon her head rose in a stately way _a deci'ded pout succeeded— finally, she burst into laughter. The puzzled expression of the old Judge completed the comedy of the occasion-we all laughed in a perfectly absurd and foolish way-and the rest of the evening passed in the most cheertul manner imaginable. When I bade mv friends good evening, I knew something i had not known before -.-namely, that Mohun the woman-hater, had renewed his "friendly relations" with Miss Georgia Conway, at her home in Dinwiddle. Exchangina- a pressure of the hand with my host and his charming daughters, I bade them good evening, and returned homeward. As I went along, I thought of the happy circle I had left; and again I could not refrain from drawing the com- parison between Judge Conway and Mr. Blocque. , _ At the fine house of the blockade-runner-champagne, rich viands, wax-lights, gold and silver, and profuse luxury. At the poor lodgings of the great itatesman,~a cup of tea and cold bread; stately courtesy from my host, charming smiles from his beautiful daughters, clad in calico, with worn-out shoes-and above the simple happy group, the crossed swords of the brave youths who bad fallen at Manassas ! 246 MOHUN. VIII. MR. X It was past ten in the evening when I left Judge Conway. But I felt no disposition to retire; and determined to pay a visit to a singular character of my acquaintance. The name of this gentleman was Mr. X . Looking back now to the days spent in Richmond, in that curious summer of '64, I recall, among the representative personages whom I encountered, no individual more remarkable than the Honorable Mr. X . You are acquainted with him, my dear reader, either personally or by re])utation, fur he was a prominent official of the Confederate Governtnent, and, before the war, had been famous in the councils of "the nation." He resided at this time in a small house, on a street near the capitol. You gained access to his apartment after night — if yoa knew the way — by a winding path, through shrubbery, to the back door of the mansion. When yon entered, you found your- self in presence of a tall, powerful, gray-haired and very courteous personage, who sat in a huge arm-chair, near a table littered with papers, and smoked, meditatively, a cigar, the flavor of which indicated its excellent quality. I enjoyed the intimacy of Mr. X in spite of the difference of our ages and positions. He had been the friend of my father, and, in my turn, did me the honor to bestow his friendslnp upon me. On this evening I was seized with the fancy to visit him — and passing through the grounds of the capitol, where the bronze Washington and his great companions looked silently out into the moonlight, reached the small house, followed the path through the shrabbery, and opening the door in the rear, found myself sud- denly enveloped in a cloud of cigar smoke, through which loomed the portly figure of Mr. X . He was seated, as usual, in his large arm-chair, by the table, covered with papers ; and a small bell near his hand seemed placed there for the convenience of summoning an attendant, without tlife trb'uble of rising. Ncfar thfe Veil lay a p'abkag'e of ME. X . 247 foiciji-n-looking documents. Near the documents lay a pile of telegraphic dispatches. In the appearance and surroundings of this man vou read "Power." Mr. X received me with easy cordiality. '' Glad to see you, my dear colonel," he said, rising and sliaking my hand; then sinking back in his chair, "take a cigar, and tell me the news." I sat down, — having declined the proffered cigar. "The news!" I said, laughing ; "I ought to ask that of you." "Ah! you think I am well-informed?" I pointed to the dispatches. Mr. X shrugged his shoulders. "Papers from England and France — they are not going to re- cognize us. And those telegrams — nothing. "We get little that is worth attention, except a line now and then, signed ' K. E. Lee.' " " Well, there is that signature," I said, pointing to an open paper. " It is a private letter to me — but do you wish to see a line ■^rhich I have just received? It is interesting, I assure you. And he handed me a paper. It was a telegram announcing the fall of Atlanta ! "Good heavens!" I said, "is it possible? Then there is nothing to stop Sherman. " "ISTothing whatever," said Mr. X , coolly. "What will be the consequence?" "The Confederacy will be cut in two. Sherman will be at Savannah before Grant reaches the Southside road — or as soon, at least." " You think Grant will reach that ?" "Yes, by April ; and then — you know what !" " But Lee will protect it." Mr. X shrugged his shoulders. " Shall I tell you a secret ?" I listened. " Lee's force is less than 50,000 — next spring it will not number 40,000. Grant's will be at least four times that." "Why can not our army be re-enforced?" Mr. X — — helped himself to a fresh cigar. 11 248 MOHUN. " The people are tired, and the conscript officers are playing a farce," he said. " The commissary department gives the army a quarter of a pound of rancid meat. That even often fails, for the quartermaster's department does not supply it. The result is — no conscripts, and a thousand desertions. The soldiers are starving ; their wives and children are writing them letters that drive them mad — the end is not far off; and when Grant reaches the Southside road we are gone." Mr. X smoked his cigar with extreme calmness as he spoke. "But one thing remains," I said. "What is that?" "Lee wilhretreat from Virginia." Mr. X shook his head. "He will not." "Why not?" "He will be prevented from doing so." "Under any circumstances?" " Until too late, at least." "And the result?" "Surrender — though, he said to me the other day, when he came to see me here, 'For myself, I intend to die sword in hand.' " I could not refrain from a sentiment of profound gloom, as I listened to these sombre predictions. It seemed incredible that they could be well founded, but I had more than once had an opportunity to remark the extraordinary prescience of the re- markable man with whom I conversed. "You draw a black picture of the future," I said. "And the South seems moving to and fro, on the crust of a volcano." " Xo metaphor could be more just." "And what will be the result of the war?" " That is easy to reply to. Political slavery, negro suffrage, and the bayonet, until the new leaven works." " The new leaven ?" " The conviction that democratic government is a failure." " And then— ?" "An emperor, or dictator — call him what you will. The MR. X 249 main fact is, that he will rule the country by the bayonet— North and South impartially." Mr. X lit a fresh cigar. " Thin-3 are going on straight to that," he said. " The futare is perfectly plain to me, for I read it in the light of history. These events are going to follow step by step. Lee is brave- no man is braver ;• a great leader. I think him one of the first captains of the world. Bat in spite of his courage and skill-m spite of the heroism of his army-in spite of the high character and pure motives of the president-we are going to tail ihen the rest will follow-negro suffrage and the bayonet. Then the third era will begin-the disgust of the white man at the equality of the negro ; his distrust of a government which makes such a farce possible; consequent revulsion against democracy; a ten- dencv toward monarchy; a king, emperor or dictator, who will restore order out of the chaos of misrule and madness. England is ru.hing toward a democracy, America is hastening to become an empire. For my own part I think I prefer the imperial to the popular idea-Imperato'r to Demos. It is a matter of taste, how- ever." 11 And Mr. X turned his head, calling out, calmly, ''Come in!" . , . ^ ti The door opened and a stranger glided into the apartment. He was clad in a blue Federal uniform, half-concealed by a brown linen overall. His face was almost covered by a red beard ; his lips by a mustache of the same color ; and his eyes disappeared behind huge green goggles. , " Come in," repeated Mr. X , who seemed to recogmzethe intruder; " what news?" The personage glanced quickly at me. " Speak before him,'" said Mr. X , " he is a friend. "lam very well acquainted with Colonel Surry," said the other, smiling, " and have the honor to number him, I hope, among mv own friends." With which words, the new-comer quietly removed his red beard, took off his green spectacles, and I saw before me no less a personage than Mr. Xighthawk ! 250 ' MOHUN. IX. "SEND ME A COPY.— IN CxVNADA!" Nothing was more surprising in this singular man than these sudden appearances at places and times when you least expected him. I had parted with him in Spottsylvania, on the night when he "deserted" from the enemy, and rode into our lines; and he was then the secret agent of General Stuart. Now, he reappeared in the city of Richmond, with an excellent understanding, it was evident, between himself and Mr, X ! Our greeting was cordial, and indeed I never had classed Night- hawk among professional spies. General Stuart assured me one day, that he invariably refused all reward; and his profound, almost romantic devotion to Mohun, had deeply impressed me. Love of country and watchful care of the young cavalier, whose past life was as mysterious as his own, seemed the control- ling sentiments of Nighthawk ; and he always presented himself to me rather in the light of a political conspirator, than as a " spy." His first words now indicated that he was a secret agent of the Government. He seemed to have been everywhere, and gained access to everybody; and once more, as in June, 1863, when he appeared at Stuart's head- quarters, near Middleburg, he aston- ished me by the accuracy and extent of his information. Political and military secrets of the highest importance, and calling for urgent action on the part of the Government, were detailed by Nighthawk, in his calm and benignant voice ; he gave us an ac- count of a long interview which he had had at City Point, with General Grant ; and wound up as usual by announcing an im- pending battle — a movement of the enemy, which duly took place as he announced. Mr. X listened with close attention, asking few questions. When Nighthawk had made his report, the statesman looked at his watch, said, sotto voce^ " Midnight — too late," and added jdoud : — THE WAY THE MONEY WEXT. 251 " Come back at ten to-morrow morning, my friend ; your in- formation is higlily interesting and important." iSTighthawk rose, and I did likewise, declining the courteous re- quest of Mr. X to prolong my visit. He held the door open with great politeness and said, smiling: — " I need not say, my dear colonel, that the views I have ex- pressed this evening are confidential — for the present, at least." "Assuredly," I replied, with a bow and a smile. "Hereafter you are at liberty to repeat them, if you wish, only I beg you will ascribe them to Mr. X , an unknown quantity. If you write a book, and put me in it, send me a copy — in Canada!" A moment afterward I was wending my way through the shrubbery, thinking of the curious personage I had left. At the gate Xighthawk awaited me, and I scarcely recognized him. He had resumed his red beard, and green glasses. "I am glad to see you again, colonel," he said benignantly ; "I heard that you were in the city and called at your lodgings, but found you absent," "You wished to see me particularly, then, Nighthawk." " Yes, and to-night, colonel." "Ah!" "I know you are a friend of General Mohun's." "A very sincere friend." " "Well, I think we will be able to do him a very great service by attending to a little matter in which he is interested, colonel. Are you disengaged, and wiUing to accompany me?" X. « THE WAY THE MOXEY WENT. I LOOKED intently at iSTighthawk. He was evidently very much in earnest. " I am entirely disengaged, and perfectly willing to accompany you," I said; "but where?" 252 MOHUN. Nighthawk smiled. "You know I am a mysterious person, colonel, both by char- acter and profession. I fear the habit is growing on me, in spite of every exertion I make. I predict I will end by burning my coat, for fear it will tell some of my secrets." " Well," I said with a smile, ''keep your secret then, and lead the way. I am ready to go far to oblige Yohun in any thing." "I thank vou, colonel, from my heart. You have only to follow me." And Nighthawk set out at a rapid pace, through the grounds of the capitol, toward the lower part of the city. There was something as singular about the walk of my com- panion, as about his appearance. He went at a great pace, but his progress was entirely noiseless. You would have said that he was skimming along ujjon invisible wings. In an incredibly short time we had reached a street below the capitol, and my companion, who had walked straight on without turning his head to the right or the left, all at once paused before a tall and dingy-looking house, which would have ap- peared completely uninhabited, except for a bright red light which shone through a circular opening in the door. At this door Nighthawk gave a single tap. The glass cover- ing the circular space glided back, and a face reconnoitred. My companion uttered two words; and the door opened, giving ac- cess to a stairs, which we ascended, the janitor having already disappeared. At the head of the stairs was a door which Nighthawk opened, and we found ourselves in an apartment where a dozen persons were playing faro. Upon these Nighthawk threw a rapid glance — some one whom he appeared to be seeking, was evidently not among the players. Another moment he returned through the door, t following, and we ascended a second flight of stairs, at the top of which was a second door. Here another janitor barred the way, but my companion again uttered some low words, — the door opened ; a niagnificently lit apartment, with a buffet of liquors, and every edible, presented itself before us; and in the midst of a THE WAY THE MONEY WENT. 053 dozen personages, who were playing furiously, I recognized— Mr. Blocque, Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperado. For some moments I stood watching the spectacle, and it very considerably enlarged my experience. Before me I saw promi- nent politicians, officers of liigh rank, employees of government holding responsible positions, all gambling with an ardor that amounted to fury. One gentleman in uniform— apparently of the quartermaster's department— held in his hand a huge package ot Confederate notes, of the denominations, of $100 and $500, and this worthy staked, twice, the pretty little amount of $10,000 upon a card, and each time lost. The play so absorbed the soldiers, lawgivers, and law-admin- istrators, that our presence was unperceived. My friend, Mr. Blocque, did not turn his head ; Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade, were red in the face and oblivious. After that evening I knew where some of the public money went. As I was looking at the strange scene of reckless excitement, one of the players, a portly individual with black mustache, rich dark curls, gold spectacles, and wearing a fine suit of broad- cloth-rose and looked toward us. Nighthawk was already gaz- ing at him ; and suddenly I saw their glances cross like steel rapiers. They had evidently recognized each other ; and going up to the gentleman of the spectacles, Nighthawk said a few words in a low voice, which I did not distinguish. " With pleasure, my dear friend," said the portly gentleman, "but you are sure you are not provided with a detective of General Winder's?" " Can you believe such a thing?" returned Xighthawk, reproach- fully. " I thought it possible you might have one waitmg below ; but if you give me your word, Nighthawk — " And without further objection the worthy followed Nighthawk and myself down the stairs. As we approached the outer door, the invisible janitor opened it; we issued forth into the street ; and the portly gentleman, fix- ing a keen look upon me in the clear moonlight, said : — " I believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before, colonel." 254 MOHUN. "I am ashamed to say I do not remember -where, sir," I said. "My memory is better, colonel; we met last May, in a hous© in the Wilderness, near Chancellorsville." "Is it possible that you are — " " Swartz, very much at your service. It is wonderful what a diflference is made by a wig and spectacles!" As he spoke, he gracefully removed his black wig and the gold spectacles. In the man with gray hair, small eyes, and double chin, I recognized the spy of the Wilderness. XI. THE PASS. Replacing his wig and spectacles, Mr. Swartz smiled in a good-humored manner, and said : — " May I ask to what I am indebted for this visit?" Nighthawk replied even more blandly : — " I wish to have a conversation with you, my dear Swartz, be- fore arresting you." "Ah! you intend to arrest me!" " Unless you make it unnecessary." "How?" "By producing the paper which Ave spoke of in the Wilder- ness," said Nidithawk, brieflv. Swartz shook his head. " That is not in my power, my friend. I did not bring it with me." " Will you think me very impolite if I say I do not believe Tou, my dear Swartz?" Swartz smiled. " Well, that would be speaking without ceremony, my friend — but I assure you I am unable to do as you desire." "Aha! you repeat that curious statement, my dear Swartz! Well, oblige me by accompanying me to the provost marshars." " You arrest me?" "Precisely." THE PASS. 255 "As a spy?" "Whvnot?" " It is impossible, Nighthawk!" "You resist?" ''I might do so." And, opening his coat, Mr. Swartz exhibited a bowie-knife and revolver. " I show you these little toys," said he, laughing good-humor- edly, "to let you see, my friend, that I might oppose your project — and you know I am not backward in using them on occasion. But I make a difference. You are not a common police-officer or detective, Xighthawk — you are a friend and comrade, and I am going to prove that I appreciate your feelings, and respect your wishes." K'ighthawk fixed his eyes on the speaker and listened. " " You are a friend of General Mohun's," said Mr. Swartz, witli bland good humor ; "you wish to secure a certain document in which he is interested ; you fancy I have that document here in the city ofPdchmond; and your object, very naturally, is to force me to surrender it. Well, I do not object to doing so — for a consideration. I fully intend to produce it, when my terms are accepted. I would have stated them to you in the TTilderness, but you were unable to meet me — or to General Moliun, but his violence defeated every thing. You meet me now, and without discussion, demand the paper. I reply, that I have not brought it with me, but three days from this time will meet you at a spot agreed on, with the document, for which you will return me — my consideration." Xighthawk shook his head. " Unfortunately, my dear Swartz, experience tells me that the present is always the best time for business— that ' a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' " Mr. Swartz smiled sweetly. " And I am the bird in your hand ?" " Something like it." *'I am a spy?" "Don't use hard names, mv friend." "By no means, my dear Nighthawk, and if I have hurt your 11* 256 MOHUN. feelings, I deeply regret it. But I am spenking to the point. You regard me as a Federal spy, lurking in Richmond — you pene- trate my disguise, and are going to arrest me, and search my lodg- ings for that paper." " The necessity is painful," said Xighthawk. *' It is useless, my friend." " I will try it." Swartz smiled, and drew a paper from his pocket, which he ■unfolded. " You are then determined to arrest your old comrade, Night- hawk." " Yes, my dear Swartz." "As a spy?" "Exactly." "In spite of this ?" And Mr. Swartz held out the paper. " Do me the favor to read this, colonel, and then oblige me by returning it." I took the paper, and easily read it by moonlight. It con- tained the following words : — "The bearer is employed on secret service, by the Confederate Government, and will not be molested." The paper was signed by a personage of high position in the government, and was stamped with the seal of the department over which he presided. Tliere could be no doubt of the genu- ineness of thft paper. The worthy Mr. Swartz loomed up before me in the novel and unexpected light of a Confederate emissary! I read the paper aloud to Nighthawk, and pointed to the official signature and seal. Nighthawk uttered a groan, and his chin sank upon his breast. That spectacle seemed to excite the sympathy of his friend. " There, mv dear yi2;hthawk," said Mr. Swartz, in a feeling tone, " don't take the blow too much to heart. I have beaten you, this game, and your hands are tied at present. But I swear that I will meet you, and produce that paper." " When?" murmured Xighthawk. " In three days from this time." " Where ?" THE GRAVE OF STUART. 257 "At the house of our friend Alibi, near Monk's Xeck, in Diii- widdie." " On your word?" " On the word of Swartz!" "Tliat is enoufl^h, my dear Swartz; I \\\l\ be at Alibi's, when we will come to terms. And now, pardon this visit, which has put you to so much inconvenience. I was merely jesting, my dear friend, when I spoke of arresting yoji. Arrest you ! Nothing could induce me to think of so unfriendly a proceeding. And now, goodnight, my dear friend. I will return with you, colonel." "With which words Nighthawk saluted his "friend," and we re- turned toward the upper part of the city. Such were the scenes of a night in the summer of 1864 XIL THE GRA^T: of STUART. On the next morning a piece of good fortune befell me. In spite of continued visits to the war-ofiBce, and an amount of im- portunity which must have been exceedingly annoying to the gentlemen of the red tape, I found myself, at the end of August, apparently no nearer to an " assignment to duty " than at first. It reallv seemed that the Confederate States had no need of mv services ; that the privilege of performing military duty in behalf of the Government was one jealously guarded, and not to be liglit- ly bestowed upon any one. I was in despair, and was revolving the project of resigning ray empty commission, and enlisting in the cavalry as a private soldier, when the deus ex machind to extricate me from all my troubles, appeared in the person of Col- onel P , of army head-quarters. This accomplished soldier and gentleman met me as I was com- ing out of the war-office, on the morning after the visit to Mr. X , looking I suppose, like some descendant of the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance, and stopped to inquire the cause of 258 MOHUN. my dejection. I informed him of the whole affair, and he laughed heartily. " You have set about your affairs, my dear colonel, in a manner entirely wrong," he said. '' You should have gone to some gen- eral, discovered that your grandmother and his own were third cousins; expressed your admiration of his valor; denounced the brother-general with whom he was quarreling; written puffs to the papers about him ; and then, one morning said, ' By the by, general, you are entitled 'to another staff oflficer.' The result would have been a glowing letter to the war department, request- ing your assignment — you would have attained your object — you Avould have been torn from the horrors of Richmond, and once more enjoyed the great privilege of being shot at!" I echoed the colonel's laugh. " Alas I" I said, " I have no genius for all that. I never yet could 'crook the hinges of the knee that thrift might follow fawning,' and I suppose I shall be compelled to resign, and enter the ranks. Why not ? Better men are there, carrying musket or carbine, or pulling the lanyard." '"Still you gained your rank by your services — and I am going to make you an offer which will enable you to retain it. Come and be my assistant inspector-general — an officer is required to inspect the cavalry and horse artillery, which is so distant, often, that I have no time to visit them." " A thousand thanks, colonel I You could not offer me a more pleasant duty." " You will have to ride a great deal, but will have a great deal of freedom. If you consent to my proposition, I will have the matter arranged at once, and will request you to make a tour of inspection to General Early's army, near Winchester." He looked at me, laughing. " 'The Oaks ' is a charming place," he added, "and you are certain to be very tired when you reach the vicinity of Mark- liam's! If you find it convenient to stop there — say, for a day or more — present my regards to Colonel Beverly, and any of the family you find present I" With which words he laughed again, shook me bv the hand, and then his tall form disappeared in the doorwav ol the war office. THE GRAVE OF STUART. 259 * On the next day I found my assignment awaiting me. I was appointed assistant inspector-general of the cavalry and horse artillery of the army of Northern Virginia. Tremendous title ! That evening I went hy railway to Petersburg, to visit Colonel P , and receive his instructions. Returning the same night, the nest day set out on horseback for the Valley of the Shen- andoah, by way of Orange, Gaines's Cross Roads, and Ashby'sGap. Of this journey it is unnecessary for me to speak in the present volume. Some curious adventures occurred to me, in the valley, near Millwood, and I made the acquaintance of St. Leger Lan- don, of "Bizarre," one of the bravest and truest gentlemen I have ever known. The adventures alluded to, and some events in the strange history of my friend, Captain Landon, are embraced in a separate memoir, to which I have given the fanciful title, Hilt to Hilt, or Days and Niglits on the BanJcs of the Shenandoah, I remained in the valley from the first to the eighteenth of Sep- tember, when I set out on my return to Petersburg, little think- ing that, on the very next day, General Early would be attacked on the Opequan, driven from Winchester, and forced to retreat up the valley, in spite of fighting which was never surpassed. I had received some rough handling in a cavalry combat near the Old Chapel, beyond Millwood, and my ride back was tedious. But at last I reached Richmond, and made preparations to set out at once for the army. On the evening before my departure, I went to visit the grave of Stuart at Hollywood, on the beauti- ful hill above the falls, west of the city. As I approached the lonely spot, where the great cavalier was lying beside his little Flora, of whom he had often spoken to me with tears, a thousand memories knocked at the door of mv , heart. With head bent down, and chin resting on my breast, I drew near the grassy mound over which waved the autumn foliage, tinted with yellow and crimson — and in these few mo- ments, all the splendid career of Stuart passed before me, as on that day when I rode with him toward the fatal field of Yellow Tavern. I remembered all his hard combats, his a:lorious encounters, his victories over suoh odds as vindicated his claim to a descent from the dashing Rupert, and ranked him with the most famous lead- 26.0 MOHUN. ers of cavalry in all history. I recalled the courage, tlic j')y, the gay laughter of the great soldier — the blue eyes that fl ishvd so — the sonorous voice singing the merrv soncrs. I remembered all the occasions when he had led his men in the charge — how he had wept for Jackson, bowed his head above the cold face of Pelham — how he had met the torrent unmoved, shrunk from nothing in his patli, fallen to save the Virginia capital, and died murmuring "God's will be done!" — I remembered all that, and with something in rny throat that seemed choking me, drew near the quiet mound, beneath which rested such a career, and so much glory. The birds were twittering and singing, the foliage waving gently — I raised my head — when suddenly I became aware that a solitary mourner was bending over the grave. He was an officer in gray uniform. He held a flower in his hand, which he dropped upon the grave, uttering a low sob as he did so. At the same moment he turned round, and I recognized the great partisan, Colonel Mosby.* XIII. THE CEDAR: TwEXTT-FouR hours after, I had passed over the same number of miles, and found myself at the staff head-quarters, on the left bank of the Appemattox. above Petersburg. I had soon pitched my tent, with the assistance of a servant ; had erected a hedge of cedar boughs to protect it from the cut- ting blasts of the coming winter ; and, a few rlay afterwards, was surrounded with many objects of comfort. My tent had been floored ; at one end rose an excellent chimney ; strips of planks, skilfully balanced on two logs, supplied a spring bed ; I had se- cured a split bottom chair, and my saddle and bridle were dis- posed upon a rough rack, near a black valise containing my small stock of apparel, and the pine table and desk holding official papers. * EeaL THE CEDARS. 261 I Having christened this castle " The Cedars," I settled do^vn for a long winter-and it was not a great while before I con- gratulated ravself on the good fortune which had provided me with that warm nest. More than once, however, I experienced something like a sentiment of shame, when, in the dark and freezing nights, with the hail rattling on my tent, I sat by my warm fire, and heard the crack of the sharp-shooters, along the lines beyond Petersburg. TVhat right had I to be there, by that blazing fire, in my warm tent, when my brethren— many of them mv betters— were yonder, fighting along the frozen hills? What had I done to deserve that comfort, and exemption from all pain? I was idling, or reading by my blazing m-e—thei/ were keeping back the enemy, and, perhaps, falling and dying in the darkness. I was musing in ray chair, gazing into the blaze, and going back in memory to the fond scenes of home, so clearly, that I laughed the hearth laugh, and was happy. And they? They, too, were thinking of home, perhaps,— of their wives and children, to sink down the next moment shivering with cold, or stagger and fall, with spouting blood, as the bullet pierced them. Why should / be thus favored by a good Providence ? I often asked myself that question, and I could not answer it. I could only murmur, " I did not sneak here to get out of the way of the bullets,— those, vonder, are mv betters, -God guard and keep the brave soldiers of this army I" And now, worthy reader, having given you some idea ol the manner in which the more fortunate ones wintered near Peters- burg, in 1864, I am going to drop the subject of army head- quarters, and mv surroundings there. Jackson and Stuart are dead, and have become figures of history. I have drawn them as well as I could,— I dare not attempt to do the same with the great commander in-chief He is alive. May he live longl-and, saluting him, I pass on. . -, , . i • So if I speak of General Lee, it will be of the individual m his official character. What he utters, he will have uttered in the hearing of many. With these words of preface, I resume the thread of my history. 2G2 MOHUN. XIV. THE SITUATIO:S". October, 1864, had come. The "situation " may be described in a few words. Grant had drawn his hnes from a point in Charles City, on tlie left bank of James River, across that streatn and across the x\p- pomattox, aronnd Petersburg to the Squirrel Level road, where he threatened the Southside railroad, Lee's line of communica- tion with the south and west. Fort Harrison had just been taken. Grant was gradually hemming in his opponent along the immense line extending across the two rivers, past the scene of the famous " Crater" explosion, to the vicinity of the Rowan- ty, a distance of nearly forty miles. One incessant crash and thunder went up, day and night. Grant was " hammering con- tinuously," carrying out his programme; and, the military view apart, never was spectacle more picturesque than that presented in these combats. The long lines of works were wreathed with the smoke of battle. The glare of cannon lit the smoke-cloud ; mortar shells rose, described their fiery curves, and descended in the trenches, and these were saluted as they rose and fell by the crack of mus- ketry, the roar of artillery, the echoing cheers of the blue and gray people, who never seemed weary of fighting, yelling, and paying their compliments to each other. At night the spectacle was superb; the mortars were like flocks of fire-birds, swooping down upon their prey. The horizon glared at each cannon-shot; shell burst in vivid lightnings, shining for a moment, then ex- tinguished. And yonder object, like a blood-shot eye, shining grimly through the darkness, — what is that? It is a lamp, my dear reader, with a transparent shade ; and on this shade is writ- ten, for the information of tlie gray backs : — " While yet the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest rebel mav return.'' mohu:n" AGAIX. 263 Lee's lines faced Grant's, following the blue cordon across the rivers, aronnd Petersburg, toward the Southside railroad. Beyond the right of the Confederate infantry stretched the cavalry, which consisted of the divisions of Wade Hampton and W. H. F. Lee, — the former commanding. Fitz Lee, with his division, was in the Valley. Such, reader was the situation, when I joined the army. The great fifth act of the tragic drama was approaching. XV. MOHUI^ AGAIK Three days after my arrival, I mounted my horse, crossed the Appomattox, followed the Boydton road, struck southward at the Quaker road, and soon found myself in the heart of the shadowy pine woods of that singular country, Dinwiddle. My oflScial duty was to inspect and report the condition of the cavalry and horse artillery of the army at the beginning and middle of each month. And now, first assuring the reader that I performed my duty in all weather, and amid every difiiculty, I will drop the official phase of my history, and proceed to mat- ters rather more entertaining. On the day after ray departure from Petersburg, I had made my inspections, and was returning. I had been received by my old friends of the cavalry with every mark of cordial regard. General Hampton, General Lee, and the various officers and men whom I had known as a stafi'-officer of General Stuart, seemed to welcome the sight of a face which, perhaps, reminded them of their dead leader ; and I had pressed all these warm hands, and received these friendly greetings not without emotion — for I, too, was carried back to the past. I saw Mordaunt and Davenant, but not Mohun — he was absent, visiting his picket line. Mordaunt was the same stately soldier — his grave and friendly voice greeted me warmly as in old days ; and Willie Davenant, now a major, commanding a battalion of 264 M H U N . liorse artillery, shook h.nnds with me, as shy and blushing as be- fore — and even more sad. "How had his suit prospered? "Were things more encour- aging?" I asked him these questions with a laugh, apologizing for my intrusion. He assured me sadly that it was not in the least an intrusion ; but that he had not seen the person to whom I alluded, for many months. And executing a blush which would have become a girl, this young tiger of the horse artillery — for such he always proved himself, in a fight — hastened to change the subject. Soon after- ward I took my departure, turned my horse's head toward Peters- burg, and set out at a round trot between the walls of pine. It was dusk when I reached the debouchment of the " military road," and, tired and hungry, T was contemplating ruefully the long ride still before me, when rapid hoof-strokes behind me at- tracted my attention, and, turning my head, I recognized the bold figure of Mohun. He was mounted on a fine animal, and came at full speed. In a moment he had caught up, recognized, and we exchanged a warm grasp of the hand. " I am delighted to see you, Surry. I thought you had deserted us, old fellow. The sight of you is a treat!" " And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming." Indeed, Mohun had never presented a better appearance, with his dark eyes; his tanned and glowing cheeks ; his raven mus- tached lips, which, parting with a smile, showed white and regu- lar teeth. He was the picture of a gallant soldier; all his old melancholy and cynical bitterness gone, as mist is swept away by the morning sunshine. "■ You are positively dazzling, Mohun. "Where are you going, and what has happened to you ? Ah !— I begin to understand I" And pointing northward, I said : — '' Five Forks is not far from here, is it ?" Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter. '' You are right, old friend ! It is impossible to hide any thing from you." MOHUX AGAIX. 265 *' And a friend of yonrs is there — whom yon are going to see?" *'Yes, my dear Surry," -was his reply, in a voice of sudden earnestness, " you are not mistaken, and you see I am like all the rest of the world. When we first met on the Rapidan, I was a woman-hater. I despised them all, for I had had reason. That was my state of mind, when a very beautiful and noble girl, whom you have seen, crossed my path. Events threw us to- gether — first, the wound I received at Fleetwood — she caught me as I was falling on that dav — and several times afterward I saw and conversed with her, finding her proud, satirical, indiffer- ent to admiration, but as honest and true as steel. Still, our relations did not proceed beyond friendship, and when I told you one day in the Wilderness that I was not her suitor, T spoke the truth. I am not exactly able to say as much to-day ! — But to finish my account of myself : I came here to Dinwiddle on the rii^ht of the armv, and a week or two after mv arrival the enemy made a cavalrv raid toward the Southside railroad. I followed, and came up with them as they were plundering a house not far from Five Forks. Well, I charged and drove them into the woods — when, who should make her appearance at the door but Miss Con- way, whom I had last seen in Culpeper ! As you know, her father resides here — he is now at Richmond — and, after following the enemy back to their own lines, hurrying them up with sabre and carbine, I came back to inquire the extent of their depredations at Five Forks. " Such is the simple explanation of the present 'situation,' my dear friend. Miss Virginia cordially invited me to come when- ever I could do so, and although Miss Georgia was less pressing — in fact, said nothing on the subject — I was not cast down thereby ! I returned, have been often since, and — that's all." Mohun laughed the heart's laugh. You have heard that, have you not, reader? "Xow tell me about yourself," he added, '' and on the way to Five Forks ! I see you are tired and hungry. Come ! they have the easiest chairs yonder, and are the soul of hospitality ! " The offer was tempting. Why not accept it ? My hesitation lasted exactly three seconds. At the end of that time, I was riding beside Mohun in the 266 MOHUN. direction of Five Forks, which we readied just as I terminated my account of myself since Mohun and I had parted in the Wil- derness. XVI. ''FIVE FORKS." "Five Foeks" was an old mansion not far from the place of the same name, now become historical. It was a building of large size; the grounds were extensive, and had been elegant; the house had evidently been the home of a long line of gentle- men, whose portraits, flanked by those of their fair helpmates, adorned the walls of the great drawing-room, between the lofty windows. In the hall stood a tall bookcase, tilled with law books, and volumes of miscellany. From the woodwork hung pictures of race-horses, and old engravings. Such was the establishment which the Federal cavalry had visited, leaving, as always, their traces, in broken furniture, smashed crockery, and trampled grounds. I shall not pause to describe my brief visit to this hospitable house. The young ladies had returned from Richmond some time before, escorted by the gray-haired Juba, that faithful old African retainer; and, as a result of the evenings which I had spent with them and their father, I had the honor to be received in the character of an old friend. Ten minutes after my arrival I saw that Mohun was passion- ately in love with Miss Georgia ; and I thought I perceived as clearlv that she returned his affection. Their eves — those tell- tales — were incessantly meeting; and Mohun followed every movement of the queenly girl with those long fixed, glances, which leave nothing in doubt. The younger sister, Miss Virginia, received me with charming sweetness, but a secret melancholy weighed down the dusky eye-^ lashes. The blue eyes were sad ; the very smiles on the rosy lips were sad. All was plain here, too, at a single glance. The GENERAL DAYENANT. 267 pnre girl had given her heart to the brave "Willie Davenant, and some mysterious hostility of her father toward the young officer, forced them apart. "What was the origin of that hostilitv? "Whv had Judge Con- way so abruptly torn his daughter away from Davenant at the ball in Culpeper — and why had that shadow passed over the old statesman's brow when I uttered the name of the young man in Richmond ? I asked myself these questions vainly — and decided in my mind that I should probably never know. I was mistaken. I was going to know before midnight. After an excellent supper, over which Miss Georgia presided with stately dignity — for she, too, had changed, in as marked a degree as Mohuu, — I rose, declared I must return to Petersburg, and bade the young ladies, who cordially pressed me to remain, good-night. Mohun declared that he would remain an hour longer — and having promised a visit soon, at his camp on the Eowanty, I mounted my horse, and set out, through the darkness, for Peters- burg. xvn. GE^'ERAL DAYEXANT. FoLLowi^-G the "White Oak road, I passed Hatcher's Run at Burgess's mill, and went on over the Boydton road, reflecting upon the scene I had just left. All at once my horse placed his foot upon a sharp root in the road, stumbled, nearly fell, and when I touched him with the spur I found that he limped painfully. Dismounting, I examined his foot. The sharp point had en- tered it, and it was bleeding profusely. The accident was unfor- tunate — and, attempting to ride on, I found the hurt worse than I had expected. My gray staggered on as if the limb were broken. I dismounted once more, led him slowly by the bridle, and 268 MOHUN. continued my way on foot. A quarter of a mile farther, tho animal was in such agony that I looked around for some light, by which to examine the hurt more fully. On the right, a glimmer was seen through the trees. I made straight toward it, through the woods, and soon found myself near a group of tents, one of which was lit up. " Whose head-quarters are these?*' I asked of a man on post, near. "Mine, my dear colonel," said a voice in the darkness near. " My candle yonder is hospitable and enables me to recognize you." With which words the figure advanced into the light, and I recognized the tall and stately form of General Davenant. He gave me Ins hand cordially, and I explained my dilemma. " You are unfortunate, but fortunate, too," said Davenant, " as I have a man among my couriers who knows all about horses. I will send yours to him ; meanwhile come into my tent." And intrusting my horse to the orderly with some brief di- rections, the general led the way into his head-quarters tent. A cheerful fire burned in the rude log-built chimney. On one side were a plain desk and two camp-stools; on the other a rough couch of pine logs, filled with straw, and spread with blankets. Upon the blankets a boy of about fourteen was sound asleep, the light auburn curls tossed in disorder over the rosy young face. At a glance I recognized the youth who had entered the ranks at Gettysburg, taken part in Pickett's charge, and been borne out tlirough the smoke, wounded and bleeding, in the arms of his father. The young Charley had evidently recovered, and was as ruddy as before. His little braided jacket was as jaunty, his face as smiling, as on that evening near Paris. An hour afterward, General Davenant and myself were con- versing like old friends. We were by no means strangers, as I had repeatedly been thrown with him in the army, and my inti- macv with Will doubtless commended me to the brave soldier's regard. An accident now seemed about to make us still better acquainted. The orderly had reported that it would be impos- sible to proceed farther with my horse that night, and I had accepted the invitation of General Davenant to remain with him until morning. GENERAL DAVEKANT. 269 "My brigade is holding the right of the armr, colonel," he had said ; " we have just moved to this position, and have not had time to become very comfortable. But I can offer you a tol- erable supper and a camp-bed after it, with a warm welcome, I assure you." I declined the supper, but accepted the bed; and seated op- posite the grizzled old cavalier, in his gray uniform, had begun to converse. Something about the stately general of infantry, drew me irre- sistibly toward him. His bearing was lofty, and not without a species of hauteur ; but under all was an exquisite high-breed- ing and courtesy, which made his society quite charming. At some words of mine, however, in reference to my visit on this day to his son, a decided expression of gloom had ob- scured the smiles of the old soldier. " Yes, colonel," he said, with something like a sigh, " Willie has lost his good spirits, and has been much depressed for more than a year. You are his friend— you share his confidence— you doubtless know the origin of this depression." •' I do, general ; a very common cause of trouble to young men — a young lady." "A young lady," repeated General Davenant, in the same gloomy tone. " He has committed the imprudence of falling in love, as the phrase is, with — Miss Conway." He paused before the words "Miss Conway," and uttered them witli evident repugnance. They issued from his lips, indeed, with a species of jerk ; and he seemed glad to get rid of them, if I may so express myself. " I can talk of this affair with you, colonel," he added, gloomily, " for Will has told me of your regard for him." I bowed, and said : — "You are not wrong in supposing that I am one of your son's best friends, general. I was long in the cavalry with hira— there is no more heroic soldier in the army— and it has given me sincere sorrow to see him laboring under such melancholy." General Davenant, with his hand covering his brow, listened in silence. "I have not inquired the origin of this depression," I added— 270 MOHUN. "that would have been indiscreet — though I know "Will would tell me. I guessed it, however, and I have visited the voung lady at her house to-night. I will certainly use my utmost exertions to remove all obstacles." Genei-al Davenant suddenly rose erect. His eye was flashing. " I beg you will not, colonell" he exclaimed. ''The harrier between himself and — Miss Conway — can never be removed." I looked at the speaker's flushed face with positive wonder, and replied : — "You astonish me, general! Are there any such obstacles in life ?" "There are!" I made no reply. "There are, colonel," repeated the now flery old soldier. "Judge Conway has been guilty of a gross wrong to me. No son of mine shall ever form an alliance with his family !" I looked up with deep astonishment. " This is a very great surprise to me, my dear general," I said ; "I thought, from many things, that it was Judge Conway who op- posed this alliance ; and from the belief that you had done him some great wrong." General Davenant had taken his seat again, after his outburst. Once more his forehead was covered with his hand. For some moments he preserved a silence so profound, that nothing dis turbed the night but the long breathing of the sleeping boy, and the measured tramp of the sentinel. Then, all at once, the general raised his head. His expression was no longer fierv — it was unutterablr sad. "I have been reflecting, colonel," he said gravely, "and, in these few minutes, have come to a somewhat singular determina- tion." " What is that, general ?" •• To tell you why my son can never marry the daughter of Judge Conway!" TWO MEN AND A WOMAN. 271 XVIII. TWO MEN AND A WOMAN. Geneeal Dayenant leaned bis elbow on tbe desk, rested bi9 forebead in bis band, and said in a deep, measured voice : — " My story need not be a long one, colonel. Tbose wbo relate gay adventures and joyous experiences, indulge in endless details — memory is cbarming to tbem at sucb moments — tbey go back to tbe past, witb a smile on tbe lips, recalling every little detail, every color of tbe brigbt picture. " My own narrative will be brief, because it is a gloomy one. It is far from pleasant to return to tbe scenes I propose to de- scribe. I only do so to erase a stigma wbicb seems to attacb to my family and myself ; to sbow you that, in spite of Judge Con- way, I deserve your good opinion. Assuredly I do not propose any pleasure to myself in relating tbese events. Alas! one of tbe bitterest tbings to a proud man — and I am proud — is to even seem to defend his good name from imputed dishonor!" Knitting bis brows as he spoke, the old soldier looked gloomily into tbe blaze before us. In a moment, be went on : — "I was born in tbe county of Dinwiddio, colonel, where my family had lived from the time of the first settlement of Virginia. My father was a large landholder, and his most intimate friend was Mr. Conway, the father of tbe present judge. The family friendship was inherited by tbe young people of the two families — and my two most intimate friends were Oeorge and WiUiam Conway. One is dead, tbe other is Judge William Conway, mem- ber of Congress. We bad played together as children, been com- panions at school. When our fathers died, and we in turn became the representatives of the two families, our friendship became even more close. I was half my time at 'Five Forks ' — tbey paid long visits to me at 'The Pines' — we bunted together, went to enter- tainments together, drank wine together, and were inseparable. '• George was especially my favorite. He was the soul of ami- ability ; everybody loved him ; and I entertained for him the most tender friendship. His brother William was equally estima- 12 272 M Oil UN. ble, bat did not .nttract yon as strongly, Although a person of the liighest sense of honor, and universally respected for talents of the first order, he was irascible, bitter, and, when once aroused, allowed nothing to restrain him. At such moments his best friends avoided him, for he was dangerous. He brooked no opposition. His anger was like a consuming fire; and a friendship which he had formed with that gentleman of splendid powers, but venomous antipathies, John Randolph of Roanoke, served still more to encourage him in the indulgence of the natural acerbity of his disposition. More than once, I have seen him almost foam at the mouth as he denounced some political adversary from the stump, and when one of these fits of passion seized him, he became as ungovernable as a wild animal. You can scarcely realize that, now. Sorrow has chastened liira ; trouble has softened him ; I have nothinflc to sav against the Judge William Conwav of to-dav. He is a self-sacrificing patriot, a gentleman of irreproachable courtesy, and sweetness of character; but, as a young man, he was a firebrand, and I think the fire is still unquenched beneath the gray hairs of the man of seventy. "Such were George and William Conway, when I knew them as young men — the one mild, amiable, the soul of kindness and good-nature; the other proud, honorable, but subject to fits of stormy passion, which made all avoid hira when the paroxysm was upon him. "From this hasty description, you will understand why George was a greater favorite with me than his brother. Our friendship was, indeed, as close and tender as possible, and we passed our majority and approached the age of twenty-five, without ever having had a moment's interruption of our intimacy. " Then, all at once, there appeared upon the stage, that cause of so much happiness, woe, joy, grief, to mankind — a woman. To make a long story short, George Conway and myself were so un- fortunate as to become attached to the same young lady, and very soon this sentiment amounted, both on his part and on my own, to a wild and consuming passion. The young lady — it is unnecessary to mention her name — was a person of rare beauty, and mistress of all the wiles which bring young men to the feet of women. She used these unsparingly, too, for nothing delighted TWO MEN AXD A WOMAN. 273 her so mncb as to attract admiration and inspire love. Perceiving tlie effect which her grace and loveliness had produced upon myself and George, slie made everj exertion to increase our in- fatuation — encouraged first one, then the other; and, in the end, succeeded in breaking those close ties of friendship which had bound us from the time when we had played together as children. "That is a sad confession, colonel, but it is the truth. Tlie bright eyes and smiles of a girl had termina4;ed a life-long friend- ship. The mere love of admiration in the heart of a young girl had interrupted the affection of years — making George and my- self cold and distrait toward each other. Soon things became still worse. From friends we bad become mere acquaintances — from acquaintances we became strangers, and finally foes. Busy-bodies whispered, tale-bearers blew the flames. If the young lady smiled on me at a party where George was present, the good people around us looked at him with satirical meaning. If she smiled on George, their eyes were turned toward me, and they giggled and whispered. "That is all tedious — is it not? An old story, which every country neighborhood knows. You laugh, perhaps, at hearing it told of A and B, — but you do not laugh when you are one of the actors. "VTell, not to lengthen my history unduly, an open rivalry and enmity at last arose between myself and poor George. We had been spurred on to hate each other, and narrowly escaped having an ' affair' together — appealing to the pistol as the arbiter. "It never came to that, however. I saw, ere long, that the young lady had made up her mind. George was in every way a more attractive and lovable person than myself; and after draw- ing me on, encouraging me, and inducing me to offer her my hand, she turned her back on me, and married George ! " Such was the result of the campaign. George had won, — and I am obliged to say that I hated him cordially. I should never have done so, from the simple fact of his success. I am not so ignoble as that, my dear colonel. Bitter as was my dis- appointment, I could have bowed to the fiat — pardoned the young lady — and offered my hand to dear George ; but there were our 'friends,' the busy-bodies and talebearers. They were unresting 274 . M n U X . in their exertions — took the wliole affair under their personal supervision, and invented a hundred fables to sting and arouse me. You would have said that they were bloody minded — the busy-bodies — and bent on trouble; that their aim -was to pro- foundly enrage me, and cause bloodshed. George had laughed at me, they said ; never had had a moment's doubt of the young lady's sentiments; had often jested about me, and expressed his pity for ray 'silly presumption ;' had even amused himself and the young lady, by mimicking my peculiarities, and raising a laugh at my expense. "These reports were persistently and regularly repeated for my information : I was baited, and worried, and driven nearly mad by them — finally a duel nearly resulted ; but that last step was not taken. I simply made my bow to the happy pair, left them without a word, and returned home, determined to drop the whole matter — but none the less enraged and embittered. ''From that moment George and myself rarely met, and never as friends. I liad been brought to hate him — he knew the fact — and although he was innocent of all wrong to me, as I know to-day, made no effort to win my regard again. He was as proud as myself— he said nothing — and our paths here separated forever. "Such is the necessary introduction, colonel," said General Davenant, " to the events which I propose to relate." XIX. THE MCRDER. "Moke than twenty years had passed," continued General Davenant, " when that old hatred which had been aroused in me, toward George Conway, produced bitter fruits. " I was to be taught by a terrible experience that hatred is a deadly sin ; that God punishes it more severely than all other THE MURDER. 275 sins, for it is the poison wliich turns the whole heart to bitter- ness. I had indulged it — made no effort to banish it — nourished it like a snake in the recesses of my breast, and now God decreed, as a punishment, that the snake should turn and sting me. '• To go back for a moment, however. George had married — a year afterward I had imitated him. My wife was an angel upon earth — she is an angel in heaven now — and in comparison with the deep affection which I felt for her, the ephemeral fancy for the young lady whom my rival had married, appeared the veriest trifle. "William Conway had also married, and he and George, ■with their wives, were living at Five Forks. William was judge of the circuit — George managed the estate — and theii* affection for each other, at this period of their mature manhood, was said to exceed that of their youth. " ' "Was said to,' I say, colonel ; for I never saw either of tliem. All intercourse between "The Pines "and ''Five Forks" had ceased twenty years before; and George and "William Conway were as much strangers to me, as if we lived in opposite quarters of the globe ; for time had not changed — or rather re- stored — the entente cordial of the past. On the contrary, the feud had become chronic — the gulf separating us had grown deeper. "When I met either of the brothers, we exchanged no greetings — passed without looking at each other — and the 'family feud ' between the Davenants and the Con ways was not even alluded to ; it had become an old story, and lost its interest. "Such was the condition of things — such the attitude which I occupied toward the two brothers — when the event, which I am about to relate, took place. The event in question was tragic and terrible. It came without warning, to shock tlie entire surrounding country. One night, on his return from the county seat, whither he was said to have gone upon some matter of business, George Conway was murdered, and his body con- cealed in some buslies by the roadside. " The body was not discovered until the morning succeeding the murder. His riderless horse was then seen standing at the door of the stable at Five Forks, and in great terror. Judge Conway set out rapidly to look for his brother, who was supposed to have met with some accident. Two or three neighbors, whom 27G MO HUN". ' he chanced to meet, joined in the search ; the body was dis- covered ; and, on examination, revealed a deep gash in the region of the heart, apparently inflicted by a dagger or a knife. ''The blow had evidently been mortal — no other hurt was visible. George Conway seemed to have been waylaid by some unknown person, and murdered on his return from the court- house. "It was impossible to divine the perpetrator of the crime, or form any idea of his motive. Upon the person of the murdered man a large sum of money, which he had received that day, was discovered. He had not been waylaid, thus, by one designing to rob him ; *and his peaceful and amiable character excluded the hypothesis that he had aroused such enmity as could have led to the bloody deed. The whole afliair was a profound mystery — no clue could be discovered to the perpetrator, or the motive of the crime — and the bodv was borne to ''Five Forks," where it was laid in state to await burial on the next day. "Judge Conway, it was said, had nearly lost his reason at this sudden and terrible blow. He had loved his brother with extra- ordinarv aflfection ; and the event struck him like a thunderbolt. His stupor of grief was succeeded by rage. He fell into one of his paroxysms. With flushed face, bloodshot eyes, and mouth foaming with a species of fury, he mounted his horse, went at full speed to the court-house, made inquiries of everybody who had seen his brother, asked with whom he had last been seen, and left no stone unturned to ferret out the author of the crime. " Meanwhile, the whole county was discussing, with awe-struck eyes, the extraordinary event. Who could have perpetrated the act? Who could have waylaid and murdered a man so univer- sally popular? Who was safe, if such a state of things could exist in a peaceful community, — if a good citizen could not ride to see a neighbor, or to the county seat, without danger of being mur- dered ? "Grief, indignation, horror, were the universal sentiments. Some one must be discovered upon whom to lay the crime. And that some one was the individual before vou, colonel !" THE KNIFE. 277 XX. THE KXIFE. "Let me continue, I beg," continued General Davenant, gloomily. " Your look of astonishment is quite natural ; you feel the indignation of a gentleman at my words ; but allow me to go on with my narrative. " Poor George Conway was buried on the day after the dis- covery of his body, and an immense concourse, accompanied him to his grave. The funeral procession was a mile long, for the notoriety attached to the event had drawn people from far and near ; and when the body reached the grave-yard, the crowd nearly filled the small inclosure. " I was present in my carriage with my wife, and my son Charles yonder, then a child in arms. You will understand, colonel, that I had not the heart to be absent. I had long ceased to feel a sentiment of any great regard for the Conways; but at the in- telligence of George's sudden death, all my old friendship had revived — the old kindly feeling came back; pity banished all enmity. I thought of his former love for me, and I determined to do all that remained in my power to show my sympathy — at- tend his funeral among those who mourned him. " Well, the body was borne to the grave, the service read, and the remains of the unfortunate gentleman deposited in their last resting-place. Then the clods rattled on the coffin, the service ended, and George Conway had passed away from all eyes. " I looked at his poor wife and brother with tears in my eyes. All my enmity was gone — my memory went back to the old scenes; at that instant I could have reached out my afms, and drawn the bereaved brother to mv heart, mingling mv tears with his own. "All at once, however, I looked at Judge Conway with aston-* ishment. I had expected to see him overwhelmed with grief — but as he now raised his head, and turned in the direction of the spot where I was standing, I saw that his features were convulsed with wrath. His cheeks were crimson, his teeth clenched, his 278 M H U N . eyes injected yrlth blood. Suddenly these bloodshot eyes met my own — the cheeks a moment before so red, grew pale — and exclaiming, 'It is you who murdered my brother!' he tlirew himself upon me with the fury of a wild animal, and his fiugers were nearly buried in my throat. " The assault was so sudden and terrible that I staggered back, and nearly fell over the grave. " Then regaining my self-possession, I caught Judge Conway by the throat in turn, hurled him from me, and stood confronting him, pale, panting, my throat bleeding — and resolved if he at- tacked me again to put him to death with the first weapon upon which I could lay my hand. " He was, meanwhile, struggling in the hands of his friends, who, by main force, held him back. " 'Let me go I' he shouted, foaming at the mouth with rage — ' that man murdered my brother ! I will take the law into ray own hands ! he shall not leave this spot alive ! He dares to come here in the presence of the dead body of George Conway — and he is his murderer!' "These words were rather howled than uttered. The speaker seemed to have lost his reason, from pure excess of rage. If his friends had not restrained him by main force, he would have thrown himself upon me a second time, when" one of us would have lost his life, colonel, for I was now as violently enraged as himself. " That /should be thus publicly branded with the basest crime ! that the representative of the old and honorable house of the Davenants, should be thus grossly insulted, his person assailed, his good name torn from him — that he should be denounced thus in the presence of all as a felon and murderer! " 'You are insane, sir!' I at length said, struggling to regain my coolness. ' Your grief has affected your brain ! I can par- don much in you to-day, sir, but beware how you again attempt \o degrade me!' " ' Hear him !' was the hoarse and furious reply of Judge Con- way; -and reaching out his thin fingers, a habit he had caught from Mr. Randolpli — he pointed at me where I stood. " 'Hear him ! He affects innocence I He is outraged ! He is THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 279 indignant! And yet he waylaid my brother, whom he has hated for twenty years — he wayLaid him like an assassin, and murdered him! There is the proof !' " And drawing from his pocket a knife, covered with clotted blood, he threw it upon the grave before all eyes. " Good God ! It was my own !" XXI. THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. "At the sight of that terrible object" continued General Davenant, " I staggered back, and nearly fell. I could not be- lieve my eyes — never thought of denying the ownership of the fearful witness. — I could only gaze at it, with a wild horror creeping over me, and then all these terrible emotions were too much for rae. "I took two steps toward the grave, reached out Avith a shud- der to grasp the knife whose clots of blood seemed to burn them- selves into my brain — then vertigo seized me, and letting my head fall, I fainted. " When I regained my senses, I was in my carriage, supported by the arms of my wife, and rolhng up the avenue to my own house. " Opposite me, in the carriage, little Charley, who, dimly realized apparently that some trouble had come to me, was crying bitterly, and a rough personage was endeavoring to quiet his sobbing, " The personage in question was a constable. "When I fainted at the grave, my friends had caught me in their arms — protested with burning indignation that the charge against me was a base calumny — and the magistrate who was summoned by Judge Con- way to arrest me, had declined to do more than direct a consta- ble to escort rae home, and see that I did not attem^-L to escape. "That was kind. I was a murderer, and my proper place a jail. Why should / be more favored than some poor common 280 M O H U N . man charged Avith that crime? Had such a person been con- fronted with sncli a charge, supported by such damning evidence as the bloody knife, would any ceremony have been observed ? * To jail I' all would have cried, ' Xo bail for the murderer I' And Avliv should the rich Mr. Davenant be treated with more con- sideration ? "On the day after my arrest — I spare you all the harrowing scenes, my poor wife's agony, and every thing, colonel — on the day after, I got into my carriage, and went and demanded to be con- fined in jail. It was the first time a Davenant had ever been in jail — but I went thither without hesitation, if not without a shudder. No sooner had I taken this step than the whole countrv seemed to have left their homes to visit me in mv prison. On the evening of the scene at the grave, twenty persons had called at the 'Pines,' to express their sympathy and indignation at the charge against me. Now, when the iron door of the law- had closed upon me, and I was a real prisoner, the visitors came in throngs without number. One and all, they treated the charge as the mere result of Judge Conway's fury — some laughed at, others denounced it as an attempt to entrap and destroy me— all were certain that an investigation would at once demonstrate my innocence, and restore me to liberty and honor. "Alas! I could only thank my friends, and reply that I hoped that such would be the result. But when they had left me alone, I fell into fits of the deepest dejection. " What proofs could I give that I was innocent? There was a terrible array of circumstances, on the contrary, to support the hyi)othesis of my guilt — much more than I have mentioned, colonel. I had visited the court-house on the same day with poor George Conway, and for the first time in twenty years had exchanged words with him. And the words were unfriendly. We had both been in the clerk's office of the county, when that gentle- man asked me some common-place question — in what year such a person had died, and his will had been recorded, I think. I replied, meutioning a year. The clerk shook his head, declaring that it must i pve been later, and appealed to poor George Conway, who agreed wii. him, adding, 'Mr. Davenant is certainly in the w-rong.' I was much annoyed that day— made some curt reply — THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 281 poor George made a similar rejoinder, and some liarsh, almost insulting words, passed bet\veen us. The afiixir went no further, however. I left the clerk's office, and having attended to the business which brought me, left the court-house about dusk. As I mounted my horse, I saw poor George Conway riding out of the place. I followed slowly, not wishing to come up with him, turned into a by-road which led toward my own house — and knew nothing of the murder until it was bruited abroad on the next day. " That is much like the special pleading of a criminal — is it not, colonel? If I had really murdered the poor man, would not this be my method of explaining every thing ? You see, I do not deny what several witnesses could prove; the fact that I quarreled -with Conway, came to high words, uttered insults, exhibited anger, followed him from the court-house at dusk — I acknov>^l- edge all tliat, but add, that I struck into a by-road and went Iiome ! That sounds suspicious, I assure you, even to myself, to-day. Imagine the effect it promised to have then, when I was a man charged with murder — who would naturally try to frame such a statement as would clear him — and when a large portion of the community were excited and indignant at the murder. " Such had been the truly unfortunate scene in the clerk's office, — the fatality which made me follow the man going to his death, and my known enmity of long standing, supported the hypothesis of my guilt. There was another, and even more fatal circumstance still, — the discovery of the knife with which George Conway had been slain. That knife was my own; it was one of peculiar shape, with a handle of tortoise-shell, and I had often used it in presence of my friends and others. A dozen persons could make oath to it as my property ; but it was not needed ; the scene at the grave made that useless. I evidently did not deny the ownership of the weapon which had been used in the commission of the murder. At the very sight of it, on the con- trary, in the hands of the brother of iuy victim, I had turned pale and fainted! " This was the condition of things when the special term of the court, held expressly to try me, commenced at Dinwiddle." 282 MOHUN. XXII. THE TRIAL. " A GEEAT crowd assembled on the day of th.e trial. Judge Conway had vacated the bench, as personally interested, and the judge from a neighboring circuit had taken his place. "Below the seat of the judge sat the jury. Outside the rail- ing, the spectators were crowded so closely that it was with diffi- culty the sheriff made a passage for ray entrance. " To one resolution I had adhered in spite of the remonstrances of all my friends, — to employ no counsel. In this determination nothing could shake me. A disdainful pi-ide sustained me, mingled with bitter obstinacy. If I, the representative of one of the oldest and most honorable families in the county of Din- widdle was to be branded as a murderer, — if my past life, my family and personal character, did not refute the charge, — if I "was to be dragged to death on suspicion, gibbeted as a murderer^ because some felon had stolen my pocket-knife, and committed a crime with it, — then I would go to my death unmoved. I would disdain to frame explanations; let the law murder me if it would ; no glib counsel should save my life by technicalities ; I would be vindicated by God and my past life, or would die. " Such was my state of mind, and such the origin of my refu- sal to employ counsel. "When the court now assigned me coun- sel, I rose aod forbade tliem to appear for me. In the midst of a stormy scene, and with the prosecuting attorney sitting dumb in his chair, resolved to take no par^ in the trial, the witnesses appeared upon the stand, and, rather by sufferance than the judge's consent, the jury proceeded to interrogate them. '' The circumstances which I have detailed to you were all proved in the clearest manner ; the altercation in the clerk's ofHce on the day of the murder; my long enmity against him, dating back more than twenty years ; the fact that I had followed him out of tha village just at dusk on the fatal night ; and the THE TRIAL. 283 discovery of my knife in the tall grass by the roadside near the body. " I had summoned no witnesses, but some appeared of their own accord, and gave important testimony. Many neighbors testified that my enmity toward George Conway had almost en tireiy disappeared in the lapse of years, and that I had spoken of him, upon more than one occasion, with great kindness. The clerk of the county described the scene in his office, stating that the aifair had appeared to him a mere interchange of curt words, without exhibition of the least malice on my part. The most important witness, however, was a poor man, living in the neigh- borhood, who made oath that he had been riding toward the court-house on the evening of the murder ; had passed Mr. Conway, and, riding on farther, came in sight of me, and he had, before reaching me, seen me turn into the by-road which led to- ward my own residence, I could not have committed the mur- der, he added, for Mr. Conway had time to pass the spot where his body was found before I could have ridden back to the high- road and caught up with him, " Unfortunately, the witness who gave this testimony bore a very indifferent character, and I could see that more than one of the jurors suspected that he was perjuring himself. "Another ugly-looking circumstance also intervened to neu- tralize the favorable impression thus made. From the irregular mode of proceeding, the fatal knife had not been exhibited in court. Suddenly, a juror called for it, and it could nowhere be found ! The sheriff swore that he had left it in the clerk's office, where he supposed it to be entirely safe. Upon searching for it, however, in the drawer where he had deposited it, the weapon was missing. "When that fact was stated, I saw a curious expression pass over the fjices of more than one of the jury. They evidently suspected foul play. " ' Was the door of the office locked?' asked one of them. " 'Yes, sir,' was the reply. " 'Were the windows secured?' " * By shutters with bolts.' " ' Are all the bolts on the windows of this building firm ?' 284 ' MOnUN. U ( I think so, sir.' There is one, that is not!' said the juror. •■' And he pointed to a long iron bolt on one of the windows, which bore evident traces of having been rent from its socket. " The slieriff looked in amazement in tiie direction indicated. "'You are right, sir!' he said; 'some one has entered tlie court-house by breaking open the shutter, and stolen that knife from the clerks' officie, which is never locked.' " A meaning silence followed the words. It was not difBcult to understand it. The jury looked at each other, and in theii glances I could read this — 'Mr. Davenant is on trial for his life. He or his friends suborn testimony to prove an alibi on the night of the mnrder, and not content with that, they hire a burglar to enter the court-house and steal the knife which proves his connec- tion with the deed— that it may not appear in evidence against him.' "The evidence closed. I had not uttered a word. I had sworn in mv heart that I would not stir a finger in the matter — but now, stung beyond endurance, I rose and addressed the jury in impassioned words. 'Their verdict,' I told them, 'was of little importance if I was to lose the respect of my fellow-citizens. I had made no effort to shape their decision, but now on the brink, it might be of a felon's grave, I would utter my dying words. I would confine myself to protesting before God, and on my honor, that I had long since forgiven George Conway the wrongs done me — that the scene on the dav of his murder was the result of momentary irritability, caused by business annoyances, and not malice — that I had forgotten it in an hour — returned directly to my own house — and only heard of the murder on the day after its commission. As to the knife — I had been suspected if not charged with having had the weapon stolen. Well! my answer to that was to declare that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, the murder was committed with my own Icnife! More than that. A witness had sworn that he saw me turn into the road to my own residence, at such a distance behind George Conway that I could not have rejoined him before he had passed the fatal spot. The witness was mistaken. There was time. By ridij\g across the angle through the thicket,, I could easily have rejoined 'him ! THE TRIAL. , 285 "'And now, gentlemen,' I said, 'I have done. I have left you no ground to charge me with suhorning testimony — with having the evidence of my crime stolen — with plotting in dark- ness, to hide my crime and bjiiid your eyes in determining iny guilt or innocence. That knife was mine, I repeat. It was pos- sible for me to rejoin Mr. Conway, and do him to death by a blow with it. j^ow, retire, gentlemen I Bring in your verdict ! Thank God! no taint of real dishonor will rest upon a Davenant, and I can appear before my Maker as I stand here to-day — innocent!' " Ten minutes afterward tlie jury had retired, with every mark of agitation upon their faces. The great concourse of spectators seemed moved almost beyond control. "Suddenly the crowd opened, I saw my wife hastening throngh the space thus made — a living wall on each side — and in an instant she had thrown herself into my arms, with a low cry which brought tears to the roughest faces of the auditory. I placed my arm around her, remonstrated with her for this ill- advised proceeding, and was trying to soothe her, when she hastily gave me a letter. A strange man had brought it an hour before, she said — it was marked 'In haste — this will save Mr. Davenant's life.' She had mounted her riding horse, and brought it at full speed in person, without waiting to question the stranger, who had at once disappeared. " I opened the letter — glanced at its contents — at the same instant the jury made their appearance — and the clerk said : — "'Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?' " 'We have, sir,' said the foreman. "'What is it?' "'Not guilty I' " The court-house rang with applause. The crowd ruslied toward me to shake me by the hand and congratulate me. Sud- denly, in the midst of tlie tumult, I heard the furious words : — " 'Murderer! you have escaped, but I brand you before God and man as the murderer of my brother!' "It was Judge Conway, who, mounted upon a bench, with glaring eyes, foaming lips, teeth clenched, in a wild fury, shook his arm at me, and denounced me as a convict before God, if not before man." 286 MOHUN. XXIII. WHAT THE LETTEPw CONTAIisTD. Geneeal DzV%'exant was silent for a moment. The deep voice, so long resounding in my ears, made the silence oppressive. "I^ow you know, my dear colonel," he suddenly added, '' why my son can not form an alliance with a daughter of Judge Conway." I bowed my head. The whole mystery was patent before me. " The family opposition is mutual," said General Davenant, with a proud smile; "he objects because he believes that I murdered his brother — and I object because he believes it ! He insulted me, outraged me — at the grave, in the court-house, in public, as in private; and I could not think of beseeching hi3 honor to give his consent to the marriage of his daughter with the son of an 'escaped murderer.'" The old soldier uttered these words with gloomy bitterness ; but in a moment he had regained his coolness. " That was tlie end of the affair," he said. '• I went home, ac- companied by a cortege of friends who seemed never weary of congratulating me ; and on the next day, I wrote a mortal defi- ance to Judge Conway, which I placed in the hands of a friend to convey to him. An hour afterward, I had mounted my horse, ridden rapidl}^ caught up with this friend on his way to Five Forks, and had taken from him the challenge, which I tore to pieces. You will probably comprehend the motive which compelled me to do this. It was not repugnance to the modern form of single combat, I am sorry to say. Old as I was, I had still the ancient hallucination on that subject. I did not then know that duels were mere comedies — child's play ; that one infantry skirmish re- sults in the shedding of more blood than all the affairs of a gener- ation. The motive that induced me to withdraw my challenge, was one which you will probably understand. The pale face of the dead George Conway had risen up before me — I knew liis broth(»r'8 deep love for him — that he regarded me as th« dead *'BLOOD." 287 man's murderer; and I no longer writhed under that public in- sult in the court-house, or, at least controlled myself. 'Let liim go on his war, poor, stricken heart!' I said with deep pity; 'I forgive him, and will not avenge that affront to me I' " Such is my history, colonel. It is sad, you see. I have re- lated it to explain what has come to your knowledge — the bitter hostility which Judge Conway indulges toward me, and his frowns at the very name of Davenant. These events occurred more than ten years ago. During all that time, he has been laboring under the belief that I am really guilty of his brother's blood. See where my ' high pride ' has conducted me," said Gen- eral Davenant, with a smile of inexpressible melancholy and bit- tei-ness. "I was proud and disdainful on the day of my trial T would not use the common weapons of defence — I risked my life by refusing counsel, and acknowledging the ownership of that knife. Pride, hauteur, a sort of disdain at refuting a charge of base dishonor — that was my sentiment then, and I remain as haughty to-day ! I am a Davenant— I was found 'not guilty'— why go and tell Judge Conway the contents of that letter re- ceived in the court-house?" " The contents of the letter, general ?" "Yes, colonel." " What did it contain ?— I beg you to tell me !" " The confession of the murderer of George Conway !" xxiy. "BLOOD." Gexeeal Dayexant had scarcely uttered the words which I have just recorded, when rapid firing was heard in the woods, a quarter of a mile from his head-quarters ; and a moment after- ward a courier came at a gallop, bearing a dispatch. "My horse!" came in the brief tone of command. And General Davenant tore open the dispatch, which he read attentively. 288 MOHUN. "The enemy are advancing to attack me," he said; /'this note was written ten minutes since. The attack has commenced. "Wir you go and see it, colonel?'' "Willinglv." General Davenant ordered another horse, as my own was use- less; we mounted and rode at full speed through the woods; in five minutes we were at the scene of action. A heavy assault was in progress. The enemy had massed a large force in front of the hastily erected earth-works, and were endeavoring, by a determined charge, to carry them. General Davenant was everywhere amid the fight, the guiding and directing head, and beside him I saw distinctly in the star- light, the brave figure of little Charley, who had started from his couch, buckled on a huge sword, and was now galloping to and fro, cheering on the men as gallantly as his father. It was an inspiring sight to see that child in his little braided jacket, with his jaunty cap balanced gallantly on his auburn curls — to see his rosy cheeks, his smiling lips, and his small hand flourishing that tremendous sabre, as he galloped gaily amid the fire. "And yet," I said, "there are those who will not believe in hlood or race!" Fill the space which that dash occupies, my dear reader, with an abrupt "duck" of the head, as a bullet went though my hat!. The charge was repulsed in twenty minutes; but the firing con- tinued throughout the night. "When it ceased, toward daybreak, and I rode back with General Davenant and Cljarley, who was as gay as a lark, and entertained me with reminiscences of Get- tysburg, I was completely broken down with fatigue. Throwing myself upon a bed, in General Davenant's tent, I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes the sun was high in the heavens. I looked around for the general, he was invisible. I rose, and at the door of the tent met Charley, with bright eves, and cheeks like roses. "The general has gone to corps head-quarters, colonel, and told me to present you his compliments, and beg that yon will remain to breakfast." After which formal and somewhat pompous sent-ence the youth- THE BLUE SEPwPENT. 289 ful Charley drew near, slapped me in a friendly way upon the back, and exclaimed, with dancing eyes : — "I say, colonel! wasn't that a jolly old he-fight we had last night?" My reply "was a laugh, and a glance of admiration at the gay boy. I declined the invitation of General Davenant, as I had to re- turn. My horse was brought, and I found his foot much easier. In half an hour I was on the road to Petersburg. XXV. THE BLUE SERPEXT. Qn'ce back at the "Cedars," I reflected deeply upon the history which I had heard from the lips of General Davenant. I shall refrain, however, from recording these reflections. If the reader will cast his eyes back over the pages of these me- moirs, he will perceive that I have confined myself generally to the simple narration of events — seldom pausing to ©O'er my own comments upon the scenes passing before me. Were I to do so, wlnat an enormous volume I should write, and how the reader would bo bored ! Now, to bore a reader, is, in my eyes, one of the greatest crimes of which an author can be guilty. It is the unpardonable sin, indeed, in a writer. For which reason, and acting upon the theory that a drama ought to explain itself and be its own commentator, I spare the worthy reader of these pages all those reflections which I indulged in, after hearing General Davenant's t-ingular narrative. "Pride! pride!" I muttered, rising at the end of an hour. "I think I can understand that — exceptional as is this instance ; but I wish I had heard who was the ' real murderer ' of George Conway I" Having thus dismissed the subject, I set about drawing up my 290 MOHUN. official report, and this charmingly common-place employment soon banished from my mind every more inviting subject ! It was nearly ten days after this my first ride into the wilds of Dinwiddle, before I again set out to look after the cavalry. The end of October was approaching. Grant had continued to hammer away along his immense line of earth-works ; and day by day, step by step, he had gone on extending his left in the direction of the Southside railroad. If the reader will keep this in view, he will understand every movement of the great adversaries. Grant had vainly attempted to carry Lee's works by assault, or surprise, — his only hope of success now was to gradually extend his lines toward the South- side road ; seize upon that great war artery which supplied life- blood to Lee's army; and thus compel the Confederate command- er to retreat or starve in his trenches. One tiling was plain — that when Grant reached the Southside railroad, Lee was lost, unless he could mass liis army and cut his way through the forces opposed to him. And this fact was so obvious, the situation was so apparent — that from the moment when the Weldon road was seized upon by General Grant, that officer and his great adversary never re- moved their eyes from the real point of importance, the true key of the lock — namely the Southside railroad, on Lee's right. Elsewhere Grant attacked, but it was to cover some movement, still toward his left. He assaulted Lee's works, north of the James — but it was south of the Appomattox that he was looking. The operations of the fall and winter, on the lines around Peters- burg were a great series of marches and counter-marches to and fro, suddenly bursting into battles. Grant massed his armv heavily in front of the works in Charles City opposite the left of Lee; attempted to draw in that direction his adversary's main force; then suddenly the blue lines vanished ; they were rushed by railroad toward Petersburg, and Grant hastened to thrust his columns still farther beyond Lee's right, in order to turn it and seize the Southside road. That was not the conception of a great soldier, it may be, reader ; but it was ingenious. General Grant was not a man of great military brain — but he was patient, watchful, and persever- ing. To defeat Lee, what was wanted was genius, or obstinacy — THE BLUE SERPEN'T. 291 2^apoleon or Grant. In the long run, perseverance was going to achieve the results of genius. The tortoise vras going to reach the same goal with the hare. It was a question of time — that was all. So, throughout October, as throughout September, and August, and July, General Grant thundered everywhere along his forty miles of earth-works, but his object was to raise a smoke denso enough to hide the blue columns moving westward. "Hurrah! we have got Fort Harrison!" exclaimed his enthusiastic subordi- nates. Grant would much rather have heard, "We have got the White Oak road !" Fort Harrison was a strong out-post simply ; the White Oak road was the postern door into the citadel. Gradually moving thus, from the Jerusalem plank road to the Weldou railroad, from the Weldon railroad to the Squirrel Level road, from the Squirrel Level road toward the Boydton road, be- yond which was the White Oak road, Grant came, toward the end of October, to the banks of the Rowanty. As this long blue serpent unfolded its coils and stretched its threatening head into the Dinwiddle woods, Lee had extended his right to confront it. The great opponents moved pari passu, each marching in face of each other. Like two trained and skillful swordsmen, they changed ground without moving their eyes from each others' faces— the Ijinge was met by the parry ; and this seemed destined to go on to infinity. That was the unskilled opinion, however. The civilians thought that — Lee did not. It was plain that this must end somewhere. Lee's line would not bear much further extension. It reached now from a point on the Williamsburg road, east of Richmond, to Burgess's Mill, west of Petersburg, His forty thousand men were strung over forty miles. That made the line so thin that it would bear little more. Stretched a little farther still, and it would snap. Lee called in vain for more men. The Government could not send them. He predicted the result of failure to receive them. They did not come. And Grant continued to move on, and Lee continued to stretch his thin line, until it began to crack. Such was the situation of affairs at the end of October — when 292 MO II UN. Grant aimed a heavy blow to cut the line in pieces. The blue serpent raised its head, and sprung to strike. XXVI. THE HOUSE NEAR MONK'S NECK, AND ITS OWNER. Sucn was the critical condition of affairs when I again set out to make my regular tour of inspection of the cavalry. Crossing Hatcher's Run at Burgess's Mill, I turned to the left, and soon found myself riding on between the lofty walls of pine, through which the roads of Dinwiddie wind like a serpent. When near Monk's Neck, I determined to stop and feed my horse. I always carried, strapped behind my saddle, a small bag containing about a feed of corn for that purpose ; and as I gen- erally selected some wayside house where I could, myself, rest while my horse was feeding, I now looked about me to discover such. My search was speedily rewarded. Three hundred yards from the road, in a clump of stunted trees, I saw a small house, which I soon reached. The surroundings of the establishment were poor and mean beyond expression. Through the open door I could see that the interior was even more poverty-stricken than the outside. As I dismounted, a man came to this door. Are you fond of natural history, reader ; and have you ever amused yourself by instituting comparisons between certain human beings and cer- tain animals — beasts, birds, or fishes? I have seen men who resembled horses, owls, hawks, sheep, — and geese. This one resembled the bird called the penguin. Read the description of the penguins : " Their feet are placed more posteriorly than in any other birds, and only afford them support by resting on the tar- sus, which is enlarged, like the sole of the foot of a quadruped. The wings are very small, and arc furnished with rudiments of feathers only, resembling scales. Their bodies are covered with THE HOUSE NEAR MONK'S NEOK. 293 oblong feathers, harsh to the touch, and closely applied over each other. ***** Their motions are slow and awkward, and from the form of their wings, they can not fly." The individual before me recalled the penguin — except that he was excessively lean instead of fat. The feet accorded with the above description ; the arms were short, and hung like wings ; the coat of the worthy was a ragged " cut-away," which ended in a point behind, like the tail of a bird ; and the movements of the indi- vidual were " slow and awkward " to a degree which forbade the supposition that, under any circumstances, he could be induced to fly. Add a long, crane-like neck, two bleared eyes, a mouth stretching from ear to ear, and a nose like the bill of a duck. You will then have before you the gentleman who bore, as I soon discovered, the classic name of Mr. Alibi. "When the w^orthy, who had flapped his arms, by w^ay of greet- ing, and shown me into his mansion, informed me that such was his name, I knew that the house at which I now found myself was the place of meeting agreed upon between Nighthawk and Swartz, at their interview in Richmond, Here, also, the man and ■woman, rescued by Swartz on the Nottoway, had been left, on his way to Petersburg, as the spy had informed us in the Wil- derness. " Well, general," croaked Mr. Alibi, with a smile, and in a nasal voice, " wha — a — t's the news ?" " I am only a lieutenant-colonel, Mr. Alibi." " Well, colonel, any thing stirring?" • " Nothing, I think. Any news with you, Mr. Alibi ? I have heard of you from a friend of yours." "Eh! And who mout that be, colonel?" " Mr. Nighthawk. Have you seen him lately ?" " Na — a — a — w," said Mr. Alibi, with a prolonged drawl through his nose, and flapping his arms in an uncouth fashion, " I ain't seen him for a long spell now." "Nor Swartz, either?" " Mr. Alibi looked keenly at me. "Na — a — a — w, nor him nuther, leftenant-colonel." "Leave out the 'leftenant,' my dear Mr. Alibi; and call me ' colonel ' — it is shorter," I said, laughing, as I looked at the queer 294 MOHUN. figure. "And ro you have not seen Swartz lately ? He made an appointment to meet Nighthawk here." " iMade an app'intment, did he, leftenant — least ways, colonel?" " Yes." " With Mr. Nighthawk ?" "Yes." " Well, I reckon they are both dead, or they'd 'a' kept their app'i-ntment." ''Nighthawk dead!" "He must be, sartain." " You are mistaken, friend Alibi," said a voice behind him. And Nighthawk, in person, entered the house. xxvn. STARVATION. Nighthawk had appeared, as was his wont, as if he had risen trora the earth. But this circumstance disappeared from my mind at once. I "vvas looking at his face. It had completely lost its benignant expression ; was pale, and bore marks of great fatigue. Some- thing of the old clerical benignity came to the eyes as he greeted me cordially ; but sitting down in the nearest chair, as though completely wearied out, he became as dispirited as before. "And what mout be the matter with you, Mr. Nighthawk?" said Mr, Alibi : "you look 's if the night hags had been a-riding of you with spurs on." And Mr. Alibi flapped his wings, stretched out his neck, and seemed about to cackle. "I am tired, Alibi," said Nighthawk, briefly, " go to the spriijg and get me some fresh water. You needn't come back in a hurry, as I wish to talk with Colonel Surry." And Mr. Nighthawk rose, and carelessly sat down near the window, through which he could reconnoitre. STARVATIOIlT. 295 The object of this movement was soon evident. Mr. Alibi took a bucket, and went out as though to seek the spring. When he had gone a few paces, however, he turned to the right and disappeared behind the house, toward the opposite window, which was open. Nighthawk rose, went to the door, and caught Mr. Alibi eaves- dropping — the result of which was that the penguin hastily moved off, muttering. In a minute he had shambled along and disappeared. No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward me. " Will yon go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to make?" he said, "An expedition, Nighthawk?" " A work of mercy, colonel ; let us talk quickly. That man, Alibi, is a spy — for both sides — and I wish to arrange every thing before he returns." "Explain, Nighthawk." " I will, colonel. Do yon remember that night in Richmond, when Swartz made an appointment to meet me at a house near Monk's Neck?" "Perfectly." " Well, this is the house, — and I expected important results from that meeting. Unfortunately, I was prevented, by some pickets who arrested me, from reaching this spot on the ap- pointed day. I was here two days afterward, however — asked for Swartz — he had not been here — and as that was the most un- accountable thing in the world to me, I set out to find him." " In the enemy's lines?" "Yes, colonel. I had no doubt I would come across him some- where. So I went through the country behind the Federal lines ; looked everywhere for my man, have been looking ever since I left you — and at last have found him." "Where?" "In the upper room of a deserted house, not three miles from this place, within the enemy's picket line." " The upper room of a deserted house?" " Confined — put to starve there, colonel ! The work of Darke, 13 296 MOnUN. and that she-devil who goes about with him, I am willing to swear, colonel!" "Good heavens! Is it possible?" I said, "Swartz is shut up and left to starve ?" " Exactly, colonel — and here is how I know it. I was coming back, worn out bj my long search after Swartz, when in passing this house, I came suddenly upon a picket of about fifty men. To avoid being seen. I ran, being on foot, and got behind the house. I had no sooner done so, than I heard groans from the upper part of it — and as the house was entirely uninhabited, these sounds excit- ed mv curiositv — not to sav astonishment. Well, I determined to find the origin of them. I crawled through a broken window — reached the second floor by a dusty staircase, and went straight toward a door, behind which I heard the groaning. It was heavily locked, and I could not even shake it. Then I ran to the partition between the room and the passage — found it made of boards, between the cracks of which I could see — and looking in, I saw Swartz! He was sitting on an old broken chair, beside a table with three legs, and his hand was buried in his hair, as if he was trying to tear it out. ""When I called to him, he started, and his groans stopped. He turned his head. Xo sooner had he recognized me than he cried out with joy ; and for some moments he could say nothing but " Save me j save me! Nighthawk! They are starving me to death?" "I will not lengthen out my story, colonel. I see Alibi coming back. I had scarcely exchanged ten words with Swartz, when I heard the gallop of a horse, and running to the window, saw tliat woman get off. A second's reflection told me that she was coming into the house ; I knew that, if discovered, I would be shot or taken prisoners— and I decided on my course in a minute. I said to Swartz, 'wait a few hours — I will go and bring you help.' I glided through a back window, dropped to the ground, ran into the bushes — and here I am, colonel, waiting for night to come, to return and rescue Swartz." " Can you do so?" " With one companion — to look out while I pick the lock." " Good — I'll go with you ; and provide for contingencies, too." BIRDS OF PREY. 297 I had seen a cavalryman passing along the. road in front of tlie house, and as Mr. Alibi came in at the same moment, I sent him to hail the wayfarer, and bring him to the house. As soon as Mr. Alibi had left us on his errand, I tore a sheet from my note-book, obtained from Nighthawk an exact description of the locality where Swartz wg,s confined, and writing a note to Mohun, in- formed him of our intention. If he could send a squadron of cavalry to drive in the picket near the house, it would insure the the success of our design, I added. As I finished this note, Mr. Alibi appeared with the cavalry- man. He proved to belong to Mohun's command. I entrusted the note to him, cautioning him that it was important, and must reach Mohun promptly — then I looked at my watch. It was four o'clock. Already the sun was declining toward the wooded horizon ; I looked toward it, and then at Xighthawk, who nodded. " In an hour, colonel," he said, " and as I am broken down, I will sleep." " With these words, Nighthawk leaned back in his split-bottom chair, covered his face with his handkerchief, and in ten seconds his long, quiet breathing showed plainly that he was asleep. "A cur'ous man, leftenant-colonel ! a cur'ous man is Mr. Nighthawkl" said Mr. Alibi. And he flapped his arms, and wriggled about in a manner so extraordinary that he looked more like a penguin than ever. XXVIII. BIRDS OF PREY. Night came on. I left ray horse at Mr. Alibi's ; set off on foot with Nighthawk; crossed the Rowanty, separating the opposing pickets, by a moss-covered log, in a shadowy nook, and was ap- proaching the house in which Swartz was shut up. Nighthawk moved with the stealthy and gliding step of a wild- 298 MOHUN. cat. I could see the man was a born scout; intended by nature for the calling he had adopted — secret service. He scarcely ut- tered a word ; when he did, it was in tones so low that they were lost in the whisper of the wfhd, amid the great trailing vines de- pending from the trees, and I was compelled to lean my ear close to catch the words. Fifty paces from the bank, a shadowy object on horseback was visible by the dim light. "The vedette," murmured Nighthawk, "but he need not see us." And plunging, or rather gliding into the shadow of the trees, he led the way without noise, to a point directly in rear of tlie vedette. A hundred yards farther a fire twinkled ; and around this fire were the dusky figures of men and horses. This was evidently the picket. Three hundred paces to the left, rose a darkobject, sombre and lugubrious against the night, which it exceeded in blackness. Only in the upper portion of the house, a dim light, like a star, glittered. " Some one is yonder," came from Nighthawk in a murmur as before, " let us go there, colonel." And crouching down until his body nearly reached the earth, my companion glided, snake-like, toward the house. I imitated him ; we passed unobserved, and almost immediately were be- hind the house. Xighthawk then rose erect, and said in a whisper: — "I am going to reconnoitre. Remain here, colonel. If I think you can come up without danger, I will make you a signal through that window." "With these words Xighthawk pointed to an open window about ten feet from the ground; glided past me through the broken sash of one beside which we were standing, and disap- peared like a shadow. I waited, holding my breath. From the upper portion of the house came the muffled sound of voices. I was endeavoring to distinguish the words uttered, when I saw Xighthawk appear at the upper window, and make me a sign. DARKE'S PAST LIFE. 299 That sign indicated that I might ascend with a reasonahle amount of safety ; and passing without noise through the win- dow, I found myself in a bare and deserted apartment, with a single shutterless window opposite me. On the right was an open door. I passed through it, and found myself at the foot of a rough stairway, occupying half of a narrow passage. Ascending, not without more than one creak, which, I must confess, sent a tingle through my nerves, I reached the upper landing, found myself in front of a closed door, and beside this door encountered the warning hand of Nighthawk. "Look!" he said. And drawing me toward hira, he pointed through a crack in the board partition, which separated the passage from the apart- ment. XXIX. DARKE'S PAST LIEE. Leaning on Nighthawk's shoulder, I placed my eye at the ap- erture. On a broken cliair beside the three-legged table sat Darke, booted, spurred, and armed with pistol and sabre. In an old rocking-chair, without arms, the singular woman, who seemed to accompany him everywhere, sat rocking to and fro, and care- lessly tapping with a small whip, the handsome gray riding-habit which defined her slender and graceful figure. Facing them, on an old bed frame, sat the unfortunate Swartz — but I would scarcely have recognized him, if I had not known that it was he. His frame had fallen away almost to nothing. His clothes hung upon him as upon a wooden pole. His cheeks were pale, sunken ; his eyes hollow ; his bearing, cowed, abject, and submissive beyond expresssion. Let me spare the reader one horror, however. Hunger was not torturing the unfortunate man at this moment. Beside him, on the floor, lay a piece of meat, and an unfinished loaf — thus 300 MOHUN. it was evident that food had been brouglit to him ; and as some of that food remained uneaten, he must have satisfied his hunger. From Swartz, my glance passed to Darke. This second survey of the wortliv proved to me that he was what is succinctly styled " half-drunk." But drink appeared not to have exhilarated him. It seemed even to have made him more morose. In the eves and lips of the heavily bearded Hercules could be read a species of gloomy sarcasm — a something resembling bitter melancholy. The woman in the gray dress, had never appeared cooler. She rocked to and fro in her chair with an air of perfect insouciance. The interview had evidently lasted some time before our arrival at the house; but, as the reader will perceive, we came soon enough to overhear a somewhat singular revelation. As I reached my position near the door, Darke was speaking to Swartz : — "You ask why you are shut up here to starve," he said, "and as I have some time on my hands to-night, I am going to tell you. That might be called 'impi'udent.' No! I am talking to a dead man! You see I hold out no false hopes — you will not leave this house alive probably — I will go back, and tell you something which will serve to explain the whole." Darke paused a moment, and tlien gazed with a strange mix- ture of gloom and tenderness upon the gray woman. "Perhaps you, too, madam," he said, speaking in alow tone, " may be ignorant of a part of my history. You know the worst — but not all. You shall know every thing. Listen ; and I beg you will not interrupt me. About ten years ago, I chanced to be at Dinwiddle Court-House, a few miles only from this spot; and one day a certain Mr. George Conway visited the court-house to re- ceive a considerable sum of money which was to be paid to him," At the words "a certain Mr. George Conway," uttered by the speaker, in a hoarse and hesitating voice, I very nearly uttered an exclamation. That name, which General Davenant's recent nar- rative had surrounded with so many gloomy associations, pro- duced a profound effect on me, as it now escaped from this man's lips ; and had it not been for Nighthawk's warning pressure on my arm, I should probably have betrayed our vicinity. Fortu- DARKE'S PAST LIFE 301 nately I suppressed the rising exclamation; it Lad attracted no attention; and Darke went on in the same low tone:— " I was in the clerk's office of Dinwiddie when the money T re- fer to was paid to Mr. Conway. It amounted to about ten thou- sand dollars, and as I had at that time no business in the reijion more important than hanging around the tavern, and drinking'and playing cards— as, besides this, I was at the end of my resources, having lost my last penny on the night before, at the card- table— the idea occurred to me that it would not be a bad plan to ride after Mr. Conway ; accost him on the road ; represent my necessities to him, and request a small loan out of his abundant means, to prevent myself from being deprived of my luxuries- liquor and cards. Is that a roundabout way of saying I intended to act the highwayman, perhaps the— murderer— on this occasion ? By no means, madam ! What is highway robbery ? Is it not the brutal and wanton robbery of the poor as well as the rich ? Well, I was not going to rob anybody. I was going to request a small loan —and so far from intending violence, or— murder — " be uttered that word always in a hesitating voice— '• I swear, I had no such intention. I was entirely unarmed ; upon my whole person there was not one deadly weapon— it was only by accident that I found, when riding out of the court-house, that I had a small pen-knife in my pocket. This I had picked up, by pure accident from the table of the clerk's office, where some one had laid it down. I Lad carelessly commenced paring my nails with it— my attention was attracted by something else. I finished paring my nails, and without being aware of wLat I was doing, put the knife in my pocket. " Well, you may think, perhaps, all this is irrelevant. You are mistaken. Many things turned on that knife. The devil himself placed it in my grasp that day !" 302 MO HUN. XXX. STABBED "XOT MUPwDEPwED." ""Well," Darke continued, "I have told you ray design, and now I will inform you how I carried it out. "I saw Mr. George Conway receive the money — in notes, bank notes, and gold. That was enough ; I knew the road he would take ; and going to the stable of the tavern I saddled ray horse, and rode out of the place in a western direction. When I was out of sight, however, I turned eastward toward Five Forks, pushed into the woods, and about sunset took ray stand in a piece of timber, on the side of the road which — he — was coming by." There was always a marked hesitation when he came to the name of his victim. He went on more rapidly now. " Well, he came along about dusk. Some one followed him, but I could not make out who. Another man came on from the direction of Petersburg ; passed me and him; and the other who liad followed him out of the court-house turned into a by-road and disappeared. Then I saw that the game was in my own hands. I waited, looking at him as he approached me. I swear I did not intend to harm him. I was half-drunk, but I remember what I intended. He came on. I rode toward him, demanded the money, he refused. I threw myself on him, as he struck at me with the butt of his heavy riding-whip, then we both rolled to the ground, I under ! His clutch was on my throat, I was choking. ' Help,' he cried, and I came near crying it, too! All at once my hand fell upon my pocket, I felt the knife, I drew it out, opened it, and stabbed him as he was strangling me ! " That was the whole ! Do you call it a murder ? I rose up, as he fell back. His breast was all bloody ; his eyes turned round; he gasped something, and fell back dead." The speaker paused and wiped his brow with his huge, muscular hand. His face was a strange spectacle. The most bitter and terrible emotions of the human heart were written there as with a pen of fire. " Then I looked at him;" he went on, "I said to myself, ' this THE TWO PAPERS. ^03 is a murder,' foolishly, for he was stabbed, not murdered; and my first thought was to conceal the body. I dragged it to the roadside, hid it in some bushes, and thinking I heard some one coming, leaped on my horse, who had stood by quietly — his had galloped away — and left the cursed spot as fast as I could go. The money was left on him. " I swear I did not touch a penny of it, and would not have touched it, even if I had not been inter- rupted. I had not intended to kill him. It was the result of the struggle. I took nothing of Ms away from that place, but I left something of my own; the knife with which I had struck him!" "The devil had put the cursed thing into my hand; and now the devil made me drop it there, within ten feet of the dead body." XXXI. THE TWO PAPERS. Daeke had spoken in a low, dull, gloomy voice; and something like a shudder had passed through his frame as he painted, in brief words, the sombre scene. This emotion now seemed even to grow deeper. Was there good left in this wild animal? "That knife," he continued, " was very nearly the means of hanging an innocent man. It belonged to a gentleman of the neighborhood who had accidentally laid it on the table of the clerk's office, a few moments before I, as accidentally, picked it up — and this gentleman had just had angry words with — him — about a trifle. What made things worse was that they had long been enemies — and when he was found there, dead in the bushes, next day, the owner of the knife found near the body was arrest- ed as the murderer. " Well, he went to jail, and the trial was coming on soon. The evidence against him was strong. He was the known enemy of — Mr. Conway. He had quarrelled with him on that day, and his knife was found by — the body — on which the money had not been touched. A robber, you see, would have taken the money ; as it was untouched the crime must have been committed by 13* 304: MOHUX. a personal enemy. TTho was that enemy ? The prisoner — whose name was Davenant ! " TVell, the trial was near, I had gone back to the court-house on that day, and was still lianging around the place. What was I to do? I had to determine whether I would let an innocent man be hanged for my crime, or go to the sheriff and say, ' re- lease the prisoner — I am the murderer.' That was rather more than I was ready for, and I hit on a means which might serve. Tlie knife was important evidence — the most important — and I was in the clerk's office one day, hanging round and listening, when I saw the sheriff put the knife in a drawer, to have it ready near court on the day of trial. Well, that night I broke into the court-house — stole the knife — and waited to see what would occur on the trial. ''As the day drew near I felt like a real murderer, and had the prisoner all the time before my eyes, hanging on a gal- lows. I drank harder than ever, but I could not get tliat pic- ture out of my mind. I saw worse pictures than before. So I determined what to do. I sat down, wrote a full confession of the murder, which I signed , and a friend of mine carried this to the prisoner's wife. I had put on it ' In haste, this will save Mr, Davenant's life ' — and his wife carried it, at full speed, with her own hands to the court-house, where she arrived just as the jury had retired. " The prisoner opened and read it. When he had finished it, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. As he did so, the jury came in with a verdict of ' Not guilty ' — and he went out of the court-room accompanied by a crowd of friends. "So he was cleared, you see — without using the document which I had written. That was in his pocket ; was of no fur- ther use ; and as it might become dangerous I entered his house that night, broke open the desk in which he kept his private papers, and took this one out, reading and making sure that it was the genuine document, by the light of the moon which streamed in at the window. "I was still looking at the paper, when a noise behind me attracted my attention, and turning round I saw — Mr. Davenant. He had heard the noise I made in breaking open the secre- THE TWO PAPERS. 3f)5 tary ; put on bis dressing-gown ; and coming down, pistol in hand, was on me before I knew it. The few minutes that followed were rather angrj, and noisy. Unexpectedly, Mr. Davenant did not fire on me. After an interchange of compliments, I put the paper in my pocket, passed out through the window, and mount- ing my horse, rode away. "After that I went far, and saw many persons. Among the rest you, madam ; and our matrimonial life has been cheq- uered ! "A word to you, now," he added, turning toward Swartz. '• I shut you up here to starve you to death because you were trusted and have betrayed me. Listen, and I will tell you how. You are greedy for gold, and this greed has tempted you to an act which will be your destruction. In Pennsylvania, one night, just before the battle of Gettysburg, you were at my house, and stole a paper from madam, who was collecting every thing to hide it from the enemy. Xo matter how I know that; I have made the discovery, and you deny it — refusing to deliver up that paper, which yon state you never had, and consequently have not in your posses sion. In saying that, you lied I You stole that paper, and promise yourself that you will sell it for a large sum of money — you have already been bargaining, and have tried to finish the business. '•TV ell, that paper is interesting — to madam at least; and she has kept it with care from the eyes of the very person you would sell it to ! Folded with it was another paper which is no less val- uable to me. Thus, you see, that we are interested ; and we will probably be informed in a day from this time where to find bot!; the documents — as you will then be starving, and will reveal every thing ! " You think me jesting, perhaps — you imagine I will spare you. Undeceive yourself — your life is a small matter compared with these two papers. '' One is the certificate of madam's marriage with your very humble servant ; the other the letter which I took from Mr. Davenant's desk that night, in which I confess myself the — well I the murderer — of George Conway!" 306 MOHUN. xxxn. A PISTOL-SHOT. Dai?ke's deep and gloomy voice ceased to resound, and for a moment the silence of the apartment w;is only disturbed by the slight creaking made by the chair of the woman, as she quietly rocked backward and forward. Swartz had risen to his feet while Darke was uttering his final words. With clasped hands, and trembling lips, he was about to throw himself upon his knees; — when suddenly a shot resounded without, a cry was heard, and then this was succeeded by rapid firing, mingled with hoof-strokes, in the immediate vicinity of the house. Darke rose to his feet, and in two strides was at the window. " An attack !" he exclaimed. " Can the friends of this carrion be trying to catch me!" And springing toward the door, he tore it open. Suddenly, another thought seemed to come to him. Returning at a bound to the side of Swartz, he seized him by the throat, dragged him through the door, and rushed down the steps, still dragging the unfortunate man. As he passed me, I drew my revolver and fired on him, but the ball did not strike him. Then I saw the woman dart past like a shadow. When Nighthawk and myself reached the foot of the stairs, she and Darke were already in the saddle. The collar of Swartz was still in his clutch. He seemed deter- mined to bear him off at the risk of being himself captured ; for a second glance showed me that a party of Confederate cavalry was rushing headlong toward the house, led by an oflicer whom I made out to be Mohun. Darke saw that the small force on picket could not contend with the attacking party. By the starlight, I could see his face, as he glared over his shoulder at Mohun, whom he had evident! v recoixnized. An ex- pression of profound hate was in that glance ; a hoarse growl PRESTON HAMPTON. 307 issued from his lips ; and I distinguished the low words addressed to Swartz, whom he w\is dragging on beside his horse. "So, you are rescued, you think! You have laid this trap for me, jailbird!" He drew his pistol as he spoke, and placed it close to the un- happy man's temple. I had mine in my hand, and, aiming at Darke, fired. It was too late. The bullet did not strike him ; and the report of his own weapon followed that of mine like an echo. Swartz staggered back, threw up his hands, and uttering a wild cry, fell at full length upon the ground. The scene which followed was as brief as this tragedy. Mohun charged, at the head of his men, and drove the picket force before him. In five minutes the whole party were dispersed, or captured. Darke had escaped with the gray woman, in the darkness. The pursuit did not continue far. The Federal lines were near ; and Mohun soon recalled his men. Grasping me cordially by the hand, he exclaimed : — ""Well, Surry! the prisoner! Where is Swartz?" I pointed to the spot where his body lay, and went thither with Mohun. Swartz lay perfectly dead, in a pool of blood. Darke had blown out his brains. XXXIII. PRESTON HAMPTON. An hour afterward the body of the unfortunate man had been buried, and I had returned with Mohun and Nighthawk to the opposite bank of the Rowanty. I had never seen Mohun so gloomy. He scarcely uttered a word during the whole march back ; and when I announced my intention to spend the night at the house of Mr. Alibi, as the long tramp had wearied me out, he scarcely invited me to his 30S MOHUN. head-quarters, and when I declined, did not urge me. Some- thing evidently weighed heavily on the mind of Mohun, and a few moment's reflection explained the whole to me. He had conversed rapidly and apart witli Nighthawk near the lonely house; and his gloom had dated from that conversation. Nighthawk had evidently explained every thing : the cause of Swartz's imprisonment; his statement in reference to the paper — and. now that Swartz was dead, the hiding-place of the docu- ment seemed forever undiscoverable. If the reader does not understand the terrible significance of this fact, and Mohun's consequent gloom, I promise that he shall comprehend all before very long. Mohun returned to his camp, and I remained at the house of Mr. Alibi until morning, stretclied on a lounge, and wrapped in my cape. I awoke about sunrise. As I opened my eyes, quick firing came from the direction of Burgess's Mill. The fire speedily became more rapid and continuous; I hastened to 'mount my horse ; and as I did so, a courier passed at full gallop. " What news ?" I asked. " The enemy are advancing in force I They have crossed I'' "Where?" * " Near Armstrong's !" And the courier disappeared, at full speed, in the woods. In a moment I had abandoned my design of inspecting, and was riding back. " Armstrong's" was a mill on the Kowanty, near the Boydton road. If the enemy had crossed there, in force, it was to make a heavy advance toward the Southside road. I was not mistaken. Reaching the debouchment of the " Quaker road," I found the cavalry drawn up in order of battle — a dispatch had been seut to hurry up the rest — on the lower waters of the Rowanty, and General Hampton informed me of the situation of afi'airs. The enemy had advanced in heavy force at sunrise, driven in the pickets, and, crossing the Rowanty, seized on the Boydton road and the bridge at Burgess's Mill. From prisoners taken, it was ascertained that the force consisted of the Second, Fifth, and PRESTON HAMPTON". 309 part of the Ninth Corps; Grant, Meade, and Hancock, accompan}-- ing the troops in person. That left nothing in doubt. If any remained, it was dispelled by the fact, stated to me by General Hampton, that the Federal troops "had eight days' rations, and were certainly bound for' the Southside road."* I had scarcely received this intelligence from General Hampton, when a heavy attack was made upon General William H. F. Lee, holding the Quaker road. From that moment the battle began to rage with determined furv, and the entire force of cavalry was engaged in an obstinate fight with the advancing enemy. It was a bitter and savage affair. The men charged; dismounted and fought behind im- promptu breastworks of rails ; fell back only when they were pushed by the weight of the great column rolling forward ; and for hours the whole field was a hurly-burly of dust, smoke, blood, uproar, carbine shots, musket shots, and the long threatening roar of cannon. The Stuart horse artillery fought like tigers. The men stuck to their guns amid a storm of bullets, and vindicated, as they had done before on many fields, the name of " my pets," given them by Stuart! Among the oflicers, Will Daveuant was seen, sitting his horse amid the smoke, as calm as a May morning; and I shall never forget the smile on the face of this young bull -dog, when he said : — " I think we can hold our ground, colonel." And looking over his shoulder, in the direction of Five Forks, he murmured : — "This is a good place to die, too." A thundering cheer rose suddenly above the roar of the guns, and the line of dismounted sharp-shooters behind their rail breast- works opened a more steady and resolute fire as the enemy ap- peared to pause. At the same moment young Preston Hampton, a son of the general, and one of my favorites, from his courage and courtesy, passed by at a gallop, cheering and encouraging the skir- mishers. * His worda. 310 MOHUN. I spurred after Lim. Just as I reached him, I saw the arm waving above his head suddenly drop ; his sword escaped from his grasp, and he fell from the saddle to the ground. In an instant I had dismounted, and with other officers who ■* hastened up, had raised him from the earth. As we did so, the group, consisting now of no less than seven, attracted the enemy's attention ; a hot fire was opened on us, and before we could bear the dying youth in our arms beyond the reach of the fire, four out of the seven officers were shot.* The boy was placed in an ambulance, and borne to the rear ; but the wound was fatal, and he soon afterward expired. A stafi" officer afterward informed me that General Hampton did not leave his tent for a fortnight — scarcely replying when he was spoken to, and prostrated by grief. I could understand that. The death of the brave youth sent a pang to my own heart — and he was only my friend. The great heart of the father must have been nearly broken. So fell Preston Hampton. Peace to his ashes ! No kinder or braver spirit ever died for his country I XXXIV. I AM CAPTURED. * HoTJE after honr the battle continued to rage ; the enemy making resolute attempts to brush off the cavalry. It was now discovered that Hancock's corps had crossed the Rowanty, supported by Crawford's division, with two corps be- hind ; and as General Hancock held the bridge at Burgess's, there seemed little probability that Lee could cross a force to attack him. But this was done. While the cavalry fought the blue masses with obstinate courage on the Boydton road, Mahone, that daring soldier, crossed a column of three brigades over the Rowanty, below Burgess's ; and suddenly the enemy found themselves * Fact I am: captured. 311 atacked in flank and rear. Mahone did not pause. He advanced straight to the assault ; swept every thing before him, and thrust- ing his small force in between Hancock and Crawford, tore from the former four hundred prisoners, three battle-flags, and six pieces of artillery. The assault had been sudden and almost overwhelming. TVTiile hotly engaged with Hampton in front, the enemy had all at once staggered beneath the heavy blow dealt on their flank and rear. They turned to strike at this new foe ; and the shock which fol- lowed was rude, the onset bloody. Mahone met it with that dash and stubbornness now proverbial in the army ; and, hurling his three brigades against the advancing column, broke through three lines of battle, and drove them back.* Kight was near, and the fighting still continued. The enemy seemed loth to give up the ground ; and were holding their posi- tion obstinately, when a determined charge from a brigade of Mahone's drove every thing in its front. I had been to carry a message for General Hampton, upon whose staff I served during the battle, and now found myself swept forward by the brigade charging. In front of them, I recognized General Davenant, on horseback, and sword in hand, leading the charge. His son Charley was be- side him. '•We are driving them, colonel!" exclaimed the general, with a proud smile " and look ! yonder are some of their general ofiicers flying from that house ! " As he spoke, he pointed to three horsemen, riding at full speed from a house known as Burgess's ; their splendid suit of staft oflBcers indicated that they were of high rank. In fact, the three horsemen who retired thus hastily, would have proved a rich prize to us. They were Generals Grant, Meade and Hancock.t They made a narrow escape, and the question suggests itself, " What would have been the result of their capture ?" I know *"In the attack subsequently made by the enemy, General Mahone broke three lines of battle. ""—General Lee's Dispatch of October 23, 1S64. t Fact. 312 MOHUN. not; I only know tliat Grant, Meade and Hancock, came near having an interview with General Lee that night — a peaceful and friendly talk at his head-quarters. I did not think of all this then. The hot charge dragged me. I had come to participate in it by the mere chance of battle — but this apparent accident was destined to have very singular results. I had ridden with General Davenant, as his brigade swept for- ward, and we were breasting a heavy fire on his front, when a sudden cry of " Cavalry ! look out !" came from our left. General Davenant wheeled his horse ; went at full speed, ac- companied b}' his son and myself, through the bullets, in the di- rection indicated ; and carried onward by his animal, as I was by my own, rode right into a column of blue cavalry, advancing to attack our flank. Such was the "chance of battle I" At one moment General Davenant was in command of a brigade which was driving the enemy, and sweeping every thing before it. At the next moment he had been carried by the powerful animal which he bestrode straight into the ranks of the Federal cavalry, hidden by the woods and approaching darkness — had been surrounded in an instant, fired upon, and half dragged from his saddle, and captured, together with his son Charley. "What was still more unfortunate to me, personally, was the fact that having followed the old soldier, I was surrounded, and made a prisoner in the same manner. XXXV. FACE TO FACE. "We had scarcelv time to realize the trulv disgusting fact, that we were captured at the very instant that the enemy were being driven, when the charge of the Federal cavalry was met by a hail- storm of bullets which drove them back in disorder. FACE TO FACE. 313 For some moments the woods presented a singular spectacle. Horsemen flying in wild confusion ; riderless animals darting madly toward the rear ; the groans of wounded men tottering in the saddle as they rushed by — all this made up a wild scene of excitement, and confusion worse confounded. General Davenant, his son, and myself had been ordered to the rear, under escort ; and the old cavalier had turned his horse's head in tliat direction, boiling with rage at his capture, when the repulse ensued, and the Federal cavalry streamed by us toward the rear. All at once a loud voice was heard shouting in the half dark- ness : — "Halt! halt I you cursed cowards ! Halt! and form column!" The speaker rushed toward us as he spoke, mounted upon a huge black horse, and I heard the noise made by his sabre, as with the flat of it, he struck blows upon the brawny shoulders of the fugitives. At his summons, and the blows of his sabre, the men halted, and again fell into column. Under the shadowy boughs of the woods, and in the gathering darkness, the long line of horsemen resembled phantoms rather than men. iSTear them glimmered some bivouac fires ; and the flickering light illumined their persons, gleamed on their scab- bards, and lit up the rough bearded faces. " Cowardly scoundrels!" exclaimed their leader, in fierce ac- cents, " where are the prisoners that ran into us?" "Here, colonel. One is a general!" said a man. "Let me see them!" General Davenant struck the spur violently into his horse, and rode close to the Federal officer,- in whom I had recognized Col- onel Darke. " Here I am, wretch ! — look at me!" exclaimed General Dave- nant, foaming with rage. "Accursed be the day when I begat a murderer and a renegade!" 3U MOHUN". XXXVI. THE CURSE. Daeke's hand unconsciously drew the rein, and man and horse both seemed to stagger back before the furious old soldier. " General DavenantI" muttered Darke, turning pale. " Yes, General Davenant! — a gentleman, an honest man ; not a traitor and a murderer I" "Good God!" muttered Darke, ''it is my father, truly — and ray little brother! The proud face, the eyes, the mouth — and yet they told me you were killed." "Ah! 'Killed I' Killing is a favorite topic with you!" ex- claimed General Davenant, furiously ; " well, kill me^ now ! — Strike your dastardly sword, or your Tcnife if you have one, straight into my breast ! Murder me, I say, as you murdered George Conway 1 — I have a purse in my pocket, and you can rob me when I am dead. Strike! strike! — but not with the sword! That is the weapon of a gentleman. Draw your knife, and stab me in the back — the knife is the weapon of the assassin !" And crossing his arms upon his breast, the fiery old cavalier confronted his son, with eyes full of bitter wrath and disdain — eyes which I shall never forget ; for their fire burnt them into my memory. Darke did not dare to meet them. I had listened with amaze- ment to those words, which indicated that the Federal officer was General Davenant's son ; then this sentiment of astonishment, profound as it was, had yielded to one of expectation, if I may so express myself. What I expected was a furious outbreak from the man of fierce and violent passions, thus taunted and driven to bay by the repeated insults of the general. No outburst came, however. On the contrary, the Fedeial officer bowed his head, and listened in silence, while a mortal pallor difi'used itself over his swarthy face. His gaze was bent upon the grouhd, and his brows so closely knit that they extended in an unbroken ridge of black and shaggy hair above his bloodshot eyes. He sat his horse, in the light of the THE CUKSE. 315 camp-fire, — a huge cavalier npon an animal as powerful and for- bidding in appearance as himself, — and for more than a minute after the scornful outburst from General Davenant, Darke re- mained silent and motionless, with his eyes still fixed upon the ground. Then he raised his head, made a sign with his hand to an officer, and said, briefly : — " Move back with the column — leave these prisoners here." At the word, the column moved back slowlj; the shadowy- figures were lost sight of in the darkness ; General Davenant, his son Charles, Darke, and myself, were left alone beside the camp- fire. Then the Federal officer, with a face over which seemed to pass "the shadow of unutterable things," looked first with a long, wistful, absorbed glance toward the boy Charles, his brother — lastlv, toward his father. *' Why do you taunt me ?" he said, in a low tone. " Will that result in any good now? Yes. I committed murder. I intended, if I did not commit, robbery. I killed — yes, I killed ! — with a knife — as a murderer kills. But I do not wish to kill you — or Charley — or this officer — or rob you. Keep your life and your money. There is the road before you, open. Go ; you are free !" General Davenant had sat his horse — the boy Charley beside him — listening in sullen wrath. As Darke ended, the general's hand went to the hilt of his sword, and he half drew it, by an instinctive movement, from the scabbard. ''"VTeli!" added the Federal officer, in the same low tone, with a deeper flush in his cheeks, "draw your sword, sir — strike me if you think proper. For myself, I am done with murder, and shrink from it, so that, if my father wishes to kill me, I will open my breast, to give him a fair opportunity. You see I am not altogether the murderous wretch you take me for. I am a murderer, it is true, and soiled with every vice — you see I am frank — but I will not resist, if you plunge your sword into my heart. Strike ! strike ! While I am dying I will have time to say the few words I have to say to you!" General Davenant shuddered with wrath still, but a strange emotion was mingled with the sentiment now — an emotion which 316 MOHTTN. I could not fathom. Before he could open his lips, however, Darke resumed, in the same tone : — " Yon hesitate — you are not ready to become my executioner. Well, listen, and I will utter that which may deprive you of all self-control. Yes, once more, I killed a man, and killed him for money ; but you made me what 1 was! You petted, and spoiled, and made me selfish. In addition, you hated — that man. Yon had hated him for twenty years. When I grew up, I found out that. If vou did not strike him, vou had the desire to do so — and, like a good son, I shared my 'father's loves and hatreds.' I heard you speak of — hira — harshly ; knew that an old grudge was between you; what matter if I met this enemy of the family on the high- road, and, with the dagger at his throat, said: 'Yield me a por- tion of your ill-gotten gains !' for that money was the proceeds of a forced sale for cash, bv which the father of a familv was turned out of house and home ! Well, I did that — and did it under the effect of drink. I learned the habit at your table ; wine was placed in my hands, in my very childhood, by you ; you indulged all my vile selfishness; made me a miserable, arrogant wretch; I came to hang about the village tavern, and gamble, and fuddle mvself, until I was made worthless! Then, when one dav the devil tempted me, I committed a crime — and that crime was committed by you! for you cultivated in me the vile habits which led me on to murder!" Darke's eyes were gloomy, and full of a strange fire. As he uttered the last words, he spurred close to his father, tore open his uni- form until his bare breast was visible, and added in accents full of vehement and sullen passion : — " Strike me ! Bury your sword's point in ray heart ! I am your son. You are as noble a gentleman as Brutus was 1 Kill me, then! I am a murderer: but I am a Davenant, and no coward!" From the fierce and swollen face, in which the' dark eyes burned like firebrands, my glance passed to the countenance of General Davenant. A startling change had taken place in the expression of the old cavalier. He was no longer erect, fiery, defiant. His glance no longer darted scorn and anger. His ch^n had fallen upon his breast ; Kis frame drooped; his cheeks, but now so flushed, were covered with a deep pallor. THE CURSE. 317 For a moment he remained silent. The hand which had clutched at the sword hilt hung listless at his side. All at once his breast heaved, and with a sound which resembled a groan, he said, in low tones : — *' I am punished ! Yes, my hatred has brought forth fruit, and the fruit is bitter! It was I who warped this life, and the tree has grown as I inclined it." "Yes," said Darke, in his deep voice, "first warped — then, when cut down, cast off and forgotten !" General Davenant looked at the speaker with bitter melancholy. " Ah ! you charge me with that, do yon, sir?" he said, " You do not remember, then, that I have suffered for you — you do not know, perhaps, that for ten years I have labored under the im- putation of that crime, and have preserved silence that I might shield your memory — for I thought you dead ! You do not know that I never breathed a syllable of that letter which you sent to me on the day of my trial — that I have allowed the world to believe I was saved by a legal technicality ! You have not heard, perhaps, that a daughter of Judge Conway is beloved by your brother, and that her father rejects with scorn the very idea of forming an alliance with my son — the son of one whom he re- gards as the murderer of his brother ! Oh I yes, sir ! truly I have cast off and forgotten you and your memory ! I have not wept tears of blood over the crime you committed — over the dishonor that rested on the name of Davenant ! I have not writhed be- neath the cold and scornful eye of Judge Conway and his friends ! I have not seen your brother's heart breaking for love of that girl ; and suppressed all, concealed every thing, borne the brand on my proud forehead, and lih young life, that your tombstone miglit at least not have ' murderer ' cut on it ! And now you taunt me with my faults ! — with my injudicious course toward you when your character was forming. You sneer and say that /first hated George Conway, and that the son only inherited the family feud, and struck the enemy of the family! Yes, I acknowledge those sins; I pray daily to be forgiven for them. I have borne for ten years this bitter load of dishonor. But there is something more maddening even than my faults, and the stain on my name — it is to.be taunted to my face, here, with the charge that /struck that 318 MOHUN. blow! that /made you the criminal, and then threw you off, and drove vou to become a renegade iu the ranks of our enemies!" The last words of the speaker were nearly drowned in a heavy fusillade which issued from the woods close by. "Listen!" exclaimed General Davenant, "that is the fire of your hirelings, sir, directed at the hearts of your brethren ! You are leading that scum against the gentlemen of Virginia! "Well join them ! Point wotli north and south of the James river ; so that it may be very properly considered as three reconnoissances in force ; made with a view of feeling, as it were, Lee's position ; and the object of the three reconnoissances having been fully at- tained — that is, Lee having been felt — they retired. That is the way in which the transactions of Thursday last are to appear in Stanton's bulletin, we may be all quite sure ; and this represent- ation, together with the occupation of a part of the Boydton plank-road (which road the newspapers can call for a few days the Southside Road) will cause every city from Boston to Mil- waukee to fire oflE" its inevitable hundred guns. Thus, the Presi- dential election will be served, just in the nick of time ; for that emergency it is not the real victory which is wanted, so much as the jubilation, glorification and cannon salutes. " Even when the truth comes to be fully known that this was the grand pre-election assault itself: the resistless advance on Richmond which was to lift the Abolitionists into power again upon a swelling high-tide of glory unutterable — easily repulsed and sent rolling back with a loss of about six or seven thousand men in killed, wounded and prisoners ; even when this is known, does the reader imagine that the Yankee nation will be discour- aged? Very far from it. On the contrary it will be easily made to appear that from these 'reconnoissances in force,' an advan- tage has been gained, which is to make the next advance a sure and overwhelming success. For the fact is, that a day was chosen for this mighty movement, when the wind was southerly, a soft and gentle breeze, which wafted the odour of the Yankee whiskey-rations to the nostrils of Confederate soldiers. The Con- federates ought to have been taken by surprise that morning; but the moment they snuffed the tainted gale, they knew what was to be the morning's work. Xot more unerring is the instinct which calls the vulture to the battle-field before a drop of blood is shed; or that which makes the kites 'know well the long 'stern swell, that bids the Romans close;' than the sure induc- tion of our armv that the Yankees are comJusr on, when morn or noon or dewy eve breathes along the .whole line a perfumed savour of the ancient rye. The way in which this discovery may be improved is plain. It will be felt and undei'stood 322 MOHUN. throughout the intelligent North, that it gives them at last the key to Richmond. They will say — Those rebels, to leeward of us, smell the rising valour of our loyal soldiers: the filling and emptying of a hundred thousand canteens perfumes the sweet South as if it had passed over a bed of violets, stealing and giving odours : — when the wind is southerly it will be said, rebels know a hawk from- a handsaw. Therefore it is but making our next grand assault on some morning when they are to windward of U8 — creeping up, in the lee of Lee, as if he were a stag — and Eichraond is ours." That is savage, and sounds unfraternal to-day, when peace and good feeling reign — when the walls of the Virginia capitol re- echo the stately voices of the conscript fathers of the great com- monwealth and mother of States : conscript fathers bringing their wisdom, mature study, and experience to the work of still further improving the work of Jefferson, Mason, and Wash- ington. '•I have Richmond by the throat!" General Grant wrote in October, 1864. In February, 1868, when these lines are written, black hands have got Virginia by the throat, and she is suffocating ; Cuffee grins, Cuffee gabbles — the groans of the " Old Mother" make him laugh. Messieurs of the great Northwest, she gave you being, and suckled you ! Are you going to see her strangled before your very eyes? II. NIGHTMARE. Ix truth, if not held by the throat, as General Grant announced, Richmond and all the South in that autumn of 1864, was stag- gering, suffocating, reehug to and fro under the immense incubus of all-destroving war. At that time black was the " only wear," and widows and or- N I G H T M A R E . 323 phans were crying in every house tliroiiglioiit tlie land. Bread and meat had become no longer necessaries, but luxuries. Whole families of the old aristocracy lived on crusts, and even by charity. Respectable people in "Richmond went to the " soup-houses." Men once rich, were penniless, and borrowed to live. Provisions were incredibly dear. Flour was hundreds of dollars a barrel ; bacon ten dollars a pound ; coffee and tea had become unknown almost. Boots were seven hundred dollars a pair. The poor skinned the dead horses on battle-fields to make shoes. Horses cost five thousand dollars. Cloth was two hundred dollars a yard. Sorghum had taken the place of sugar. Salt was sold by the ounce. Quinine was one dollar a grain. Paper to write upon was torn from old blank books. The ten or twenty dollars which the soldiers received for their monthly pay, was about sufficient to buy a sheet, a pen, and a little ink to write home to their starv- ing families that tliey too were starving. In town and country the atmosphere seemed charged with coming ruin. All things were in confusion. Everywhere some- thing jarred. The executive was unpopular. The heads of de- partments were inefficient. The army was unfed. The finances were mismanaged. In Congress the opposition bitterly criticised President Davis. The press resounded with fierce diatribes, pro and con^ on all subjects. The Examiner attacked the govern- ment, and denounced the whole administration of affairs. The Sentinel replied to the attacks, and defended the assailed offi- cials. One could see nothing that was good. The other could see nothing that was bad. Their readers adopted their opinions ; looking through glasses that were deep green, or else couleur de rose. But the green glasses outnumbered the rose-colored raore and more every day. Thus, in the streets of the city, and in the shades of the coun- try, all was turmoil, confusion — a hopeless brooding on the hours that were coming. "War was no longer an affair of the border and outpost. Federal cavalry scoured the woods, tearing tlie last mouthful from the poor people. Federal cannon were thun- dering in front of the ramparts of the cities. In tlie country, the faint-hearted gathered at the court-houses and cross-roads to com- ment on the times, and groan. In the cities, cowards croaked ia 32tt MOnUN. the market-places. In the country, men were hiding tlieir meat in garrets and cellars — concealing their corn in pens, lost in the depths of the woods. In the towns, the forestallers hoarded flour, and sugar, and salt in their warehouses, to await famine prices. The vultures of troubled times flapped their wings and croaked iovfullv. Extortioners rolled in tlieir chariots. Hucksters laugiied as they counted their gains. Blockade-runners drank their champagne, jingled their coin, and dodged the conscript ofticers. The rich were very rich and insolent. Tlie poor were want- stricken and despairing. Fathers gazed at their childrens' pale faces, and knew not where to find food for tliem. Mothers hugged their frail infants to bosoms drained by famine. Want gnawed at the vitals. Despair had come, like a black and poison- ous mist, to strangle the heart. The soldiers were agonized by maddening letters from their families. Tlieir fainting loved ones called for help. ''Father I come home!" moaned the children, with gaunt faces, crying for bread. "Husband, come home I" murmured the pale wife, with her half-dead infant in her arms. And the mothers — the mothers — ah! the mothers I They did not say, "Come home I" to their brave boys in the army ; they were too proud for that — too faith- ful to the end. They did not summon them to come home ; they only knelt down and prayed : " God, end this cruel war ! Only give me back my boy ! Do not bereave me of ray child ! The cause is lost — his blood not needed! God, pity me and give me back mv bov !" So that strange autumn of that strange year, 1864, wore on. The country was oppressed as by some hideous nightmare ; and Government was silent. The army alone, kept heart of hope — Lee's old soldiers defied the enemy to the last. LEE'S MISERABLES. 325 III. LEE'S MISERABLES. They called themselves "Lee's Miserables." That was a grim piece of liuraor, was it not, reader? And the name had had a somewhat curious origin. Victor Hugo's work, Les Miserables^ had been translated and published by a house in Rich- mond ; the soldiers, in the great dearth of reading matter, had seized upon it ; and thus, by a strange chance the tragic story of the great French writer, had become known to the soldiers in the trenches. Everywhere, you might see the gaunt figures in their tattered jackets bending over the dingy pamphlets— "Fantine," "Cosette," or "Marius," or "St. Denis," — and the woes of " Jean Valjean," the old galley-slave, found an echo in the hearts of these brave soldiers, immured in the trenches and fet- tered by duty to their muskets or their cannon. Singular fortune of a writer I Happy M. Hugo ! Your fancies crossed the ocean, and, transmitted into a new tongue, whiled away the dreary hours of the old soldiers of Lee, at Petersburg ! Thus, that history of "The Wretched," was the pabulum of the Soutli in 1864 ; and as the French title had been retained on the backs of the pamphlets, the soldiers, little familiar with the Gallic pronunciation, called the book " Lees Miserables !" Then another step was taken. It was no longer the book, but themselves whom they referred to by that name. The old veterans of the army thenceforth laughed at their miseries, and dubbed themselves grimly "Zed'« Miserables!"* The sobriquet was gloomy, and there was something tragic in the employment of it; but it was applicable. Like most popular terms, it expressed the exact thought in the mind of every one — coined the situation into a phrase. Truly, they were "The Wretched,"— the soldiers of the army of Xorthern Virginia, in the fall and winter of 1864. They had a * It is unnecessary to say that this is not a jest or fancy on the part of Colonel Surry. It is a statement of fact— Ed. 326 MOHUy. quarter of a pound of rancid " Nassau bacon " — from New En- gland — for daily rations of meat. The handful of flour, or corn- meal, which they received, was musty. Coffee and sugar were doled out as a luxury, now and then only ; and the microscopic ration hecarae a jest to those who looked at it. A little " grease " and cornbread — the grease rancid, and the bread musty — these were the food of the army. Their clothes, blankets, and shoes were no better — even worse. Only at long intervals could the Government issue new ones to them. Thus the army was in tatters. The old clothes hung on the men like scarecrows. Their gray jackets were in rags, and did not keep out the chilly wind sweeping over the frozen fields. Their old blankets were in shreds, and gave them little warmth when they wrapped themselves up in them, shivering in the long cold nights. The old shoes, patched and yawning, had served in many a march and battle — and now allowed the naked sole to touch the hard and frosty ground. Happy the man with a new blanket ! Proud the possessor of a whole roundabout! What millionaire or favorite child of for- tune passes yonder — the owner of an unpatched pair of shoes ? Such were the rations and clothing of the army at that epoch ; — rancid grease, musty meal, tattered jackets, and worn-out shoes. And these were the fortunate ones! Whole divisions often went without bread even, for two whole days. Thousands had no jack- ets, no blankets, and no shoes. Gaunt forms, in ragged old shirts and torn pantaloons only, clutched the musket. At night they huddled together for warmth by the fire in the trenches. When they charged, their naked feet left blood-marks on the abatis through which they went at the enemy. That is not an exaggeration, reader. These facts are of record. And that was a part only. It was not only famine and hard- ship which they underwent, but the incessant combats — and mor- tal tedium — of the trenches. Ah! the trenches! Those words summed up a whole volume of suffering. No longer fighting in open field ; no longer winter-quarters, with power to range ; no longer freedom, fresh air, healthful movement — the trenches! Here, cooped up and hampered at every turn, they fought through all those long months of the dark autumn and winter of LEE'S MISERABLES. 327 a 1864. Thej were no longer men, but machines loading and firing the mnsket and the cannon. Burrowing in their holes, and sub- terranean covered-ways, they crouched in the darkness, rose at the sound of coming battle, manned the breastworks, or trained the cannon — day after day, week after week, month after month, they were there in the trenches at their grim work; and some fiat of Destiny seemed to have chained them there to battle for- ever! At midnight, as at noon, they were at their posts. In the darkness, dusky figures could be seen swinging the sponge-stafi^, swabbing the cannon, driving home the charge. In the starlight, the moonlight, or the gloom lit by the red glare, those figures, resembling phantoms, were seen marshalled behind the breast- works to repel the coming assault. Silence had fled from the trenches — the crash of musketry and the bellow of artillery had replaced it. Tliat seemed never to cease. The men were rocked to sleep by it. They slept on in the dark trenches, though the mortar-shells rose, described their flaming curves, and, bursting, rained jagged fragments of iron upon them. And to many that was their last sleep. The iron tore them in their tattered bhm- kets. They rose gasping, and streaming with blood. Then they staggered and fell ; when you passed by, you saw a something lying on the ground, covered with the old blanket. It was one of " Lee's Miserables," killed last night by the mortars — and gone to answer, " Here !" before the Master. The trenches ! — ah ! the trenches ! Were you in them, reader ? Thousands will tell vou more of them than I can. There, an his- toric army was guarding the capital of an historic na,tion — the great nation of Virginia — and how they guarded it! In hunger, and cold, and nakedness, they guarded it still. In the bright days and the dark, they stood at their posts unmoved. In the black night-watches as by day — toward morning, as at evening — they stood, clutching the musket, peering out into the pitchy darkness; or lay, dozing around the grim cannon, in the embrasures. Hun- ger, and cold, and wounds, and the whispering voice of Despair, had no eff'ect on them. The mortal tedium left them patient. When you saw the gaunt faces contract, and tears flow, it was be- cause they had received some letter, saying that their wives and chil- dren were starving. Many could not endure that. It made them 14* 828 MOHUN. forget all. Torn with anguish, and unable to obtain furloughs for a day ©ven, they went home without leave — and civilians called them deserters. Could such men be shot — men who had fought like heroes, and only committed this breach of discipline that they might feed their starving children? And, after all, it was not desertion that chiefly reduced Lee's strength. It was battle which cut down the army — wounds and exposure wliich thinned its ranks. But thin as they were, and ever growing thinner, the old veterans who remained by the flag of such glorious memories, were as defiant in this dark winter of 18G4, as they had been in the summer davs of 1862 and 1863. Army of Northern Virginia I — old soldiers of Lee, who fought beside your captain until your frames were wasted, and you were truly his "wretched" ones — you are greater to me in your wretchedness, more siJendid in your rags, than the Old Guard of Kapoleon, or the three hundred of Thermopylae ! Neither fam- ine, nor nakedness, nor suffering, could break your spirit. You were tattered and half-starved ; your forms were war-worn ; but you still had faith in Lee,. and the great cause which you bore aloft on the points of your bayonets. You did not shrink in the last hour — the hour of supreme trial. You meant to follow Lee to tiie last. If vou ever doubted the result, vou had resolved, at least, on one thing — to clutch the musket, to the end, and die ia harness! Is that extravagance — and is this picture of the great army of ISTorthern Virginia overdrawn ? Did they or did they not fight to the end? Answer! Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, Charles City, every spot around Petersburg where they closed in death-grapple with the swarming enemy! Answer! winter of '64, — bleak spring of '65, — terrible days of the great retreat wlien hunted down and driven to bav like wild animals, thev fouirht from Five Forks to Appomattox Court-House — fought staggering, and starving, and falling — but defiant to the last ! Bearded men were seen crying on the ninth of April, 1865. But it was surrender which wrung their hearts, and brought tears to the grim faces. Grant's cannon had only made "Lee's Miserables " cheer and laugh. THE BLANDFORD RUINS. 329 IV. THE BLANDFORD RUIXS. These memories are not cheerful. Let us pass to scenes more sunny — and there were many in that depressing epoch. The cloud was dark — but in spite of General Grant, the sun icould shine sometimes ! After reading the Examiner's comments, I mounted my horse and rode into Petersburg, where I spent a pleasant hour in con- versation with a friend, Captain Max. Do you laugh still, my dear Max? Health and happiness attend you and yours, my hearty ! As I got into the saddle again, the enemy began a brisk shell- ing. The shell skimmed the roofs of the houses, with an un- earthly scream ; and one struck a chimney which it hurled down with a tremendous crash. In spite of all, however, the streets were filled with young women, who continued to walk quietly, or to trip along laughitlg and careless, to buy a riband or some trifle at the stores.* That seemed singular then, and seems more singular to-day. But there is nothing like being accustomed to any thing — and the shelling had now "lost its interest," and troubled nobody. " Good !" I said, laughing, "our friends yonder are paying us their respects to-day. They have dined probably on the tons of turkey sent from New England, and are amusing themselves shelling us by way of dessert." And wishing to have a better view of the lines, I rode toward Blandford. Do you remember the ivy-draped ruins of the old " Blandford church," my dear reader ? This is one of our Virginia antiquities, and is worth seeing. Around the ruins the large graveyard is full of elegant tombstones. Many are shattered to-day, however, by the Federal shell, as the spot was near the breastworks, and in full range of their artillery. *Eeal. 330 MOHUN. In fact it was not a place to visit in the fall of 1864, unless yon were fond of shell and a stray bullet. I was somewhat surprised, therefore, as I rode into the enclosure — with a hot skirmish going on a few hundred yards off — to see a young oflScer and a maiden sitting on a grass bank, beneath a larch tree, and conversing in the most careless manner imaginable.* TVho were these calmly indifferent personages ? Their backs were turned, and 1 could only see that the young lady had a profu- sion of auburn hair. Having dismounted, and approached, I made another discovery. The youth was holding the maiden's hand, and looking with flushed cheeks into her eyes — while she hung her head, the ringlets rippling over her cheeks, and played ab- sently with some wild flowers, which she held between her fingers. The " situation" was plain. "Lovers," I said to myself; " let me not disturb the voung ones !" And I turned to walk away without attracting their at- tention. Unfortunately, however, a shell at that instant screamed over the ruin ; the young girl raised her head with simple curiosity — not a particle of fear evidently — to watch the course of the mis- sile ; and, as the youth executed the like manoeuvre, they both became aware of my presence at the same moment. The result was, that a hearty laugh echoed among the tomb- stones ; and that the youth and maiden rose, hastening rapidly toward me. An instant afterward I was pressing the hand of Katy Dare, whom I had left near Buckland, and that of Tom Herbert, whom I had not seen since the fatal day of Yellow Tavern. LES FORTUXfe. The auburn ringlets of Katy Dare were as glossy as ever ; her blue eyes had still the charming archness which had made me * Real. LES FORTUNES. 331 love her from the first. Indeed her demeanor toward me had been full of such winning sweetness that it made me her captive ; and I now pressed the little hand, and looked into the pretty blushing face with the sentiment which I should have experi- enced toward some favorite niece. Katy made you feel thus by her artless and warm-hearted smile. How refrain from loving one whose blue eyes laughed like her lips, and whose glances said, "I am happier since you came!" And Tom was equally friendly ; his face radiant, his appear- ance distinguished. He was clad in a new uniform, half covered with gold braid. His hat was decorated with a magnificent black plume. His cavalry boots, reaching to the knee, were small, delicate, and of the finest leather. At a moderate estimation, Tom's costume must have cost him three thousand dollars!— Happy Tom ! He grasped my hand with a warmth which evidently came straight from the heart; for he had a heart— that dandy! ''Hurrah! old fellow ; liero you are!" Tom cried, laughing. " You came upon us as suddenly as if you had descended from heaven !" "Whither you would like to send me back! Am I wrong, Tom?" And I shot a glance of ancient and paternal aflfection at these two young things, whose tete-a-tete I had interrupted. Katv blushed beautifully, and then ended by laughing. Tom caressed his slender mustache, and said : — " My dear fellow, I certainly should like to go to heaven— con- sequently to send my friends there— but if it is all the same to everybody, I think I would prefer— hem !— deferring the journey for a brief period, my boy." " Until an angel is ready to go with you !" And I glanced at the angel with the ringlets. " Ah, my dear Surry !" said Tom, smoothing his chin with his hand, "'you really have a genius for repartee which is intolera- ble, and not to be endured !" " Let the angel sit in judgment !" " Oh, you have most ' damnable iteration !' " 332 MOHUN. " I learned it all from you." " From rae, my boy ?" "Certainly — see the beauty of repetition in poetry.'* And looking at the damsel, I began to repeat — "Katyl Katyl Don't marry any other 1 You'll break my heart, and kill me dead, And then be hanged for murder 1" The amount of blushing, laughter, pouting, good humor, and hilarity generally, which this poem occasioned, was charming. In a few minutes we were all seated again on the grassy bank, and Tom had given me a history of his adventures, which had not been either numerous or remarkable. He had been assigned to duty on the staff of General Fitzhugh Lee, and it was delight- ful to hear his enthusiasm on the subject of that gay and gallant officer. " I tell you he's a trump, old fellow," quoth Tom, with ardor. "He's as brave as steel, a first-rate officer, a thorough gentleman, generous, kind, and as jolly as a lark ! Give me Fitz Lee to fight with, or march with, or hear laugh ! He was shot in tlie Valley, and I have been with him in Richmond. In spite of his wound, which is a severe one, he is as gay as the sunshine, and it would put you in good spirits only to go into his chamber !" " I know General Fitz well, Tom," I replied, "and you are right about him ; every word you say is true, and more to boot, old fellow. So you are cruising around now, waiting for your chief to recover?" "Exactly, my dear Surry." " And have captured the barque Katy .'" "Humph!" quoth Miss Katy, tossing her head, with ablush and a laugh. "Beware of pirates," I said, " who make threats even in their verses, — and now tell me. Miss Katy, if you are on a visit to Pe- tersburg ? It will give me true pleasure to come and see you." "Indeed you must I" she said, looking at me with the most fascinating smile, "for vou know vou are one of mv old friends now, and must not neijlect me, I am at my aunt's, Mrs. Hall, — LES FORTUNES. 333 uncle brought me a month ago from Buckland ; ^^but in the morning I shall go down to a cousin's in Dinwiddle." " In Dinwiddle, Miss Katy?" " Yes, near the Rowanty. My cousin, Mr. Dare, has come for me." " Well, I will visit you there." " Please do. The house is called ' Disaway's.' " I bowed, smilins:, and turned to Tom Herbert. - When shall I see you again, Tom, and where ? Kext week— at Disaway's?" Tom colored and then laughed. This dandy, you see, was a good boy still. . " Well, old fellow," he replied, " I think it possible I may visit Dinwiddle. My respected chieftain, General Fitz, is at present reposing on his couch in Richmond, and I am bearer of bouquets as well as of dispatches between him and his surgeon. But I am told he is ordered to Dinwiddle as soon as he is up. The coun- try is a new one ; the thought has occurred to me that any in- formation I can acquire by-hem I-a topographical survey would be valuable. You perceive, do you not, my dear friend? You appreciate my motive ?" ^' Perfectly, Tom. There will probably be a battle near Dis- aAvay's.' " "And Pd better ride over the ground, eh ?" "Yes." " Well, I'll do it ! " Only beware of one thing I" " What, my dear Surry?" asked Tom, anxiously. " There is probably a conservatory at Disaway's." " A conservatory ?" " Like that near Buckland, and the battle might take place tUre. If it does— two to one you are routed !" Katv blushed exquisitely, smiled demurely, and burst into laugh- ter Then catching my eye she raised her linger, and shook her head with sedate reproach, looking at Tom. He was laughing. " All right, Pll look out, Surry 1" " Resolve on one thing, Tom." " What is that?" 33i MOHUN. " That yon will never surrender, but be taken in arms I" With which mild and inoffensive joke I shook hands with Tom, informing him where to find me ; made Miss Katy a bow, which she returned with a charming smile and a little inclination which shook together her ringlets ; and then leaving the young people to themselves, I mounted my horse, and returned to the Cedars. All the way I was smiling. A charming influence had de- scended upon me. The day was brighter, the sunshine gayer, for the sight of the young fellow, and the pretty little maiden, with lier blue eyes, like the skies, and her ringlets of silken gold ! VI. 01^ THE BANKS OF THE PwOWAXTY. When I again set out for the cavalry, a few days after the scene at Blandford church, the youth and sunshine of those two faces still dwelt in my memory, and I went along smiling and happy. Not even the scenes on the late battle-field beyond the Ro- wanty, made my mood gloomy ; and yet these were not gay. Graves were seen everywhere ; the fences were broken down ; the houses riddled by balls; and in the trampled roads and fields negroes were skinning the dead horses, to make shoes of their hides. On the animals already stripped sat huge turkey-buzzards feeding. My horse shied as the black vultures rose suddenly on flapping wings. They only circled around, however, sailing back as I disappeared. Such is war, reader, — a charming panorama of dead bodies and vultures I Turning into the Quaker road, I went on until I reached the head-quarters of General William H. F.Lee, opposite Monk's Neck. Here, under the crest of a protecting hill, where the pine thickets atforded him shelter from the wind, that gallant soldier had "set up h-is rest " — that is to say a canvass fly, one end of which was BAXKS OF THE ROWAXTY. 335 closed with a tliick- woven screen of evergreens. My visit was delightful, and I shall always remember it Avith pleasure. Where are you to-day, general, and good comrades of the old stall ? You used to laugh as hard as you fought — so your merriment was immense ! Heaven grant that to-day, when the bugles are silent, the sabres rusting, you are laughing as in the days I remember ! Declining the friendly invitation to spend the night, I went on in the afternoon ; and on my way was further enlivened by a gay scene which makes me smile even to-day. It was in passing General Butler's head-quarters near the Rowanty. In the woods gleamed his white tents ;" before them stretched the level sandy road ; a crowd of staff officers and others, with the general in their midst, were admiring two glossy ponies, led up by two small urchins, evidently about to run a race on them. Butler — that brave soldier, whom all admired as much as I did — was limping about, in consequence of a wound received at Fleetwood, In the excitement of the approaching race he had forgotten his hurt. And soon the urchins were tossed up on the backs of their little glossy steeds — minus all but bridle. Then they took their positions about three hundred yards off; remained an instant abreast and motionless ; then a clapping of hands was" heard — it was the signal to start — and the ponies came on like lightning. The sight was comic beyond expression. The boys clung with their knees, bending over the floating manes ; the little animals darted by; they disappeared in the woods "amid thunders of applause ;" and it was announced that the roan pony had won. "Trifles," you say, perhaps, reader; "why don't our friend, the colonel, go on with his narrative ?" True, — the reproach is just. But these trifles cling so to the memory ! I like to recall them — to review the old scenes — to paint the "trifles" even, which caught my attention during the great civil war. This is not a history, friend — only a poor little memoir. I show you our daily lives, more than the "great events " of history. That is the way the brave Butler and his South Carolinians amused themselves — and the figure of this sol- dier is worth placing amid my group of •'•paladins." He was brave — none was braver; thoroughbred — I never saw a man 336 MOHUN. more so. His sword had flashed at Fleetwood, and in a hundred other figlits ; and it was going to flash to the end ! I pushed on after the pony race, and very soon had penetrated the belt of shadowy pines which clothe the banks of the Rowanty, making of this country a wilderness as singular almost as that of Spottsylvania. Only here and there appeared a small house, similar to that of Mr. Alibi's — all else was woods, woods, woods! Through the thicket wound the "military road" of General Hampton ; and I soon found that his head-quarters were at a spot which -I had promised myself to visit — " Disaway's." Two hours' ride brought me to the place. Disaway's was an old mansion, standing on a hill above the Rowanty, near the " Halifax bridge," by which the great road from Petersburg to North Carolina crosses the stream. It was a building of consid- erable size, with Wings, numerous gables, and a portico ; and was overshadowed by great oaks, beneatli which gleamed the tents of Hampton and his staff". As I rode up the hill, the staff" came out to welcome me. I had known these brave gentlemen well, when with Stuart, and they were good enough, now, to give me the right hand of fellowship, — to receive me for old times' sake, with " distinguished consider- ation." The general was as cordial as his military family — and in ten minutes I was seated and conversing with him, beneath the great oak. A charming cordiality inspired the words and countenance of the great soldier. Kearly four years have passed, but I remember still his courteous smile and friendly accents. All at once, the figure of a young woman appeared in the door- way. At a glance I recognized the golden ringlets of Katy Dare. She beckoned to me, smiling ; I rose and hastened to greet her ; in a moment we were seated upon the portico, conversing like old friends. There was something fascinating in this child. The little maiden of eighteen resembled a blossom of the spring. Were I a poet, I should declare that her azure eyes shone out from her auburn hair like glimpses of blue sky behind sun-tinted clouds ! I do not know how it came about, or how I found myself there, but in a few moments I was walking with her in the autumn BANKS OF THE ROWANTY. 337 ■woods, and smiling as I gazed into the deep bine of her eves. The pines were sighing above us ; beneath onr feet a thick carpet of brown tassels lay; and on the summit of the evergreens the golden crown of sunset slowly rose, as though tlie fingers of some unseen spirit were bearing it away into the night, Katy tripped on, rather than walked — laughing and singing gayly. The mild air just lifted the golden ringlets of her hair, as she threw back her beautiful face ; her cheeks were rosy with the joy of youth; and from her smiling lips, as fresh and red as car- nations, escaped in sweet and tender notes, like the carol of an oriole, that gav and warbling son