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 i
 
 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF A STAFF-OFFICER 
 
 SERVING IN VIRGINIA 
 
 EDITED, FROM THE MSS. OF COLONEL SURRY 
 
 By JOHN ESTEN COOKE 
 
 AUTHOR OP "FAIRFAX," "HILT TO HILT," "MOHUN," " OUT OF THE FOAM," 
 "HAMMER AND RAPIER," ETC., ETC 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 M£ 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 G. IV. Dillingham, Publisher, 
 
 Successor to G. W. Carleton & Co. 
 
 MDCCCLXXXIX.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 186(5, 
 By BUNCE & HUNTINGTON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 
 District of New York. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, 
 
 BY G. W. DILLINGHAM, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE SURRYS. 
 
 Having returned to "Eagle's-Nest," and hung up a dingy 
 gray uniform and battered old sabre for the inspection of my 
 descendants, I propose to employ some leisure hours in record- 
 ing my recollections, and describing, while they are fresh in my 
 memory, a few incidents of the late Eevolution. 
 
 This will not be a task, my dear, unknown reader — rather an 
 amusement ; for nothing delights more your old soldier returned 
 from the wars than to fight his battles o'er again, boast of his 
 exploits, and tell the children and grandchildren, clustering 
 in fancy around his knees, what wonders he has seen, and how 
 many heroic deeds he has performed. 
 
 I think those dear, coming grandchildren will take an interest 
 in my adventures. They will belong to the fresh, new genera- 
 tion, and all the jealousies, hatreds, and corroding passions of 
 the present epoch will have disappeared by that time. Simple 
 curiosity will replace the old hatred ; the bitter antagonism of 
 the partisan will yield to the philosophic interest of the student, 
 and the events and personages of this agitated period will be 
 calmly discussed by the winter fireside. How Lee looked, and 
 Stuart spoke — how Jackson lived that wondrous life of his, and 
 Ashby charged upon his milk-white steed — of this the coming 
 generations will talk, and I think they will take more interest in 
 such things than in the most brilliant arguments about secession. 
 
 Therefore, good reader, whom I will never see in the flesh, I 
 am going to make some pictures, if I can, of what I have seen. 
 1*
 
 10 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Come! perhaps as you follow me you will live in the stormy 
 days of a convulsed epoch, breathe its fiery atmosphere, and see 
 its mighty forms as they defile before you, in a long and noble 
 line. To revive those days, surround you with that atmos- 
 phere, and reproduce those figures which have descended into 
 the tomb, is the aim which I propose to myself in writing these 
 memoirs. 
 
 I foresee that the number of "IV I shall employ will be 
 enormous, and beyond a peradventure you will call me egotis- 
 tical ; but how can the use of that stiff, erect character be done 
 away with in an autobiography? Be magnanimous, therefore, 
 
 kindly reader, and regard me as a friend who is telling you 
 his adventures, not as an author composing a feigned history. 
 It is only a poor "prisoner on parole" who is talking: leave 
 him that one resource to while away the time — that single con- 
 solation. We sit on the old porch at Eagle's Nest; yonder 
 flows the Rappahannock ; the oaks sigh; the sunshine laughs — so 
 
 1 begin. 
 
 I always heard that the first of the Surrys in Virginia was 
 Philip, the son of Philip, and that he took refuge here when the 
 head of Charles I. went to the block. This Cavalier was 
 a gay gallant, the family legend says, and did much hard riding 
 and fighting under Prince Rupert ; but the royal banner drooped, 
 the Roundhead pikes carried the day; and, collecting such money 
 and jewels as he could lay his hands on, Colonel Philip Surry 
 repaired to the head-quarters of Cavalierdom, Virginia. Here 
 everything suited him. Cavalier faces were seen everywhere, 
 land was cheap, and foxes abounded ; so he built this house of 
 " Eagle's-Nest " below Port Royal, on a hill above the Rappa- 
 hannock, gave it the name of the family estate in England, and, 
 collecting a number of thorough-breds, and a pack of hounds, 
 married and settled down. All I have heard of him thereafter 
 may be stated in a few words: he went with Richard Lee to see 
 Charles II., then in exile at Breda, where he offered to proclaim 
 the youth King of England and Virginia at Williamsburg. 
 When his offer was not accepted, he returned to Eagle's-Nest, 
 where he dedicated his energies to fox-hunting and raising
 
 THE SURRYS. 11 
 
 Wood horses for the remainder of his life. His portrait hangs on 
 the wall here — a proud, handsome face, with blue eyes, pointed 
 beard, black mustache, and broad shoulders covered with Venice 
 lace falling over a hauberk of steel; in the hand is a hat with 
 a black, trailing feather. There is Colonel Philip Surry, dead this 
 many a day. 
 
 He left in his will the curious injunction that the eldest son of 
 the family in every generation should sign his name, " Surry of 
 Eagle's-Nest;" so my father always called himself, and I have 
 followed the family habit. My father was the fifth or sixth in 
 descent from Philip I., and bore his name. He was the soul of 
 benevolence and kindness. Intellectually, he was the greatest 
 man I ever knew. At the bar of the Court of Appeals of Vir- 
 ginia he ranked with the old race of lawyers, Marshall, "Wirt, 
 "Wickham, and Leigh — all his intimate friends; but as his hair 
 had grown gray he had retired from the profession, and spent his 
 days at home in the country. He has died since the beginning 
 of the war, but his portrait is yonder, a tall and stately figure, 
 with a noble countenance, clear loyal eyes, and a smile of exqui- 
 site sweetness. He is gone now, like all the Surrys of the past, 
 but his memory still lives. His intellect was so powerful, his 
 temper so sweet and kind, that the first men of his age saluted 
 him with respect, and I never knew a lady or a child not to love 
 him. He belonged to that old generation of Virginians who have 
 disappeared, and the sun to-day, I think, shines nowhere on his 
 like. 
 
 I shall only add to this family sketch the statement that my 
 dear mother, who died in my boyhood, was Mary Aunesley, of 
 Princess Anne, and that she had but two children besides myself. 
 One of these was my sister Annie, about sixteen years of age 
 when the war began ; and the other, my younger brother, was 
 only nineteen at that time, but a graduate of West Point, and a 
 lieutenant in the United States army. 
 
 Such was the origin of the writer of the present memoirs, 
 and from this point of view he looked upon the struggle which 
 was approaching.
 
 12 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 II. 
 
 IN WHICH THE WRITER OMITS A NUMBER OP THINGS. 
 
 I have not the least intention of inflicting upon the reader an 
 account of my childhood, boyhood, or early manhood, spent at 
 "Eagle's-Nest." It would not interest deeply — that life of a 
 child who ran laughing and singing through the grounds of an old 
 house, or conned his lessons at his dear mother's knee — who lis- 
 tened to the murmur of the Rappahannock flowing past the lofty 
 hill, and dreamed his idle dreams of far-off lands — who rode all 
 the colts he could catch, and was thrown by them, spun his top, 
 tore his clothes^ and drew down the denunciations of his gray- 
 haired "mammy." Nor would the life of the youth and man 
 prove more interesting. 
 
 All these details would be charming, my dear reader, if 
 Colonel Surry was anybody — a great warrior, statesman, or gen- 
 eral — and was dead. But he is none of these, and fortunately 
 still lives; so all these particulars of his youth are omitted. The 
 flowers bloomed brighter then, and the song of the birds was 
 sweeter; but that wa's in my childhood, not in yours, reader. 
 Mine for myself-— yours for you, friend. Let us dream of the 
 dead days sometimes, as the comedy of life plays before us and 
 the voices laugh — we will never see those days any more, except 
 in dreams ! 
 
 I spent one session at the Virginia Military Institute ; studied 
 law at the University ; commenced the practice in Essex and the 
 surrounding counties — and in 1861, at the age of twenty-five, 
 saw the country about to be plunged into war. 
 
 Fill that hiatus with the hundred octavo volumes which will 
 ba written on the causes of what our friends across the border 
 call the "Great Rebellion." In the present memoirs I intend to 
 weary neither myself nor the reader with that discussion. Let 
 others trace back the torrent to its source — laboriously demon- 
 strating how 18G1 was the logical result of 1820 — and show how
 
 HOT BLOOD. 13 
 
 the antagonism of race and opinion became the antagonism of the 
 bayonet. This is not the place for that logomachy. I who write 
 am as firm to-day in my conviction of the right of secession as 
 yesterday, or five years ago. But the question has been tried — the 
 issue is dead, for the present, and let it rest. Besides, you know 
 all that story now, reader mine — how the whole North roared 
 at the wicked South, and John Brown with the pike carried out 
 what Bielper wrote with the pen. In 1860 the beginning of the 
 end came. The "Republicans" triumphed: the Gulf States de- 
 clared that the Union was dissolved — and, asserting their right 
 to shape their own destiny, prepared to support their action with 
 the sword. 
 
 Where was Virginia? it may be asked. I reply that she was 
 trying to command the peace, vainly supposing that this storm 
 could be hushed. I blamed her then, when my blood was hot — 
 now I think that she acted with her ancient courage and dignity. 
 The Virgin of her shield would not lightly touch the sword, be- 
 cause, when once she drew it, she meant to throw away the 
 scabbard. 
 
 Whether she kept that resolution, let the blood and tears and 
 desolation of four terrible years, in which she never shrank be- 
 fore her foe, declare. 
 
 III. 
 
 HOT BLOOD. 
 
 Richmond, which I visited at this stormy period, was the fiery 
 heart from which flowed the blood of Revolution. 
 
 What a change had passed over the quiet old place ! In past 
 years the city was the picture of repose. The white walls of the 
 Capitol rose from the deep-green foliage, silent, except when some 
 aspiring young legislator thundered in his maiden speech : the 
 falls of James River sent upon the air their soft and lulling mur- 
 mur : the birds sang in the trees of the Capitol Square : children
 
 14 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 played there : the clouds floated : Richmond was all good-nature 
 and repose. 
 
 Now this was a tradition — a lost page in her history. Fierce 
 agitation had replaced the old tranquillity ; and in the streets, the 
 hotels, the drawing-rooms, nothing was heard but hot discussion. 
 Men's pulses were feverish. Neighbors of opposite views scowled 
 fiercely at each other. Young ladies wore the Southern colors, 
 and would turn their pretty backs upon an admirer who was not 
 for secession. The cockade of South Carolina — a red rosette with 
 a palmetto tree upon it — was everywhere worn ; and upon the 
 wearers the advocates of the old order of things looked with ill- 
 concealed hostility. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Convention, of which my father was a mem- 
 ber, thundered on from day to day: the press poured forth its 
 lava : the stump resounded with denunciations : and society was 
 evidently approaching one of those epochs when, having ex- 
 hausted the powers of the tongue, the human animal has re- 
 course to the sword. 
 
 Altogetber, the period was jovial and inspiring ; and I declare 
 to you, reader, that I would like to live it over, and hear the 
 bands play "Dixie " again, under the " bonnie blue flag!" 
 
 The hot current dragged me, and I speedily had a rencontre 
 which was not without importance in its bearing on my future. 
 
 I was sitting in the public room of my hotel, on an afternoon 
 of April, when a party of young men came in, and among them 
 I recognized a former acquaintance at the University, named 
 Baskerville. I had never liked him, and he was generally un- 
 popular, in consequence of his arrogance — the result, it was said, 
 of very great wealth. As I glanced at him now, his appearance 
 did not falsify the report. His costume was dazzling ; his shirt 
 bosom sparkled with diamond studs ; his hands were encased in 
 yellow kid gloves ; and he carried a small ratan with a golden 
 head. Baskerville was about twenty-six, tall, straight, and ex- 
 ceedingly handsome — but as arrogant in his bearing as a patrician 
 among the common people. It was overpowering ! 
 
 Such was the figure which came into the room where I was 
 Bitting, and began talking politics.
 
 
 HOT BLOOD 
 
 15 
 
 His denunciations of secession and secessionists were bitter 
 and violent ; and his laughing companions seemed to be urging 
 him on. From secession, the abstract, he passed to the cockades, 
 the concrete ; and denounced their wearers as " shallow-brained 
 traitors, who would suffer for their folly." As I was wearing a 
 cockade, though it was invisible to the speaker, I did not much 
 relish this, but I controlled my temper — when all at once Basker- 
 ville uttered some words which I could not possibly pass over. 
 
 " I heard a speech in the Convention to-day which deserves 
 the halter," he said arrogantly. 
 
 "Who delivered it?" asked another of the party. 
 
 " That old traitor Surry !" 
 
 "When he said that, I got up and went to the place where he 
 was standing. 
 
 "That is my father, sir," I said. 
 
 His reply was a haughty stare and the words, "I am not 
 acquainted with you, sir!" 
 
 " You lie," I said, " you recognize me perfectly ; — but that is 
 not what I wanted to say. You call me a 'shallow-brained 
 traitor ' for wearing a cockade — which proves to me that you 
 are a fool. You insult the gray hairs of my father — that con- 
 vinces me that you are a coward." 
 
 ******* 
 
 The above asterisks are gracefully substituted for what almost 
 immediately followed. The by-standers speedily " separated the 
 combatants," as the newspapers say; and, informing my adver- 
 sary that I could be found at No. 45 in the hotel, I went to my 
 chamber, to avoid the crowd which began to collect. 
 
 I fully expected a message from Baskerville ; but none came 
 that evening, or the next morning. Tired of waiting, I was 
 about to go out, when a card was handed to me ; and enter a 
 few moments afterward, one of the party of the previous even- 
 ing — a young gentleman elegantly clad. 
 
 At the grave and ceremonious air of my reception he began 
 to laugh. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Surry," he said, "but you are evidently 
 laboring under a slight misapprehension. I have not come as
 
 16 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Mr. Baskerville's representative to bring you a challenge — but 
 simply to make a friendly visit, at the risk, however, of appear- 
 ing intrusive." 
 
 "Not at all, sir," I said, " but I naturally supposed " 
 
 " That Baskerville would fight? Well, you thought wrong," 
 was the gay reply of my visitor, who balanced himself, with an 
 air of the most graceful insouciance, npon his chair. " Our dear 
 friend is a man of peace, not war — he insults people, but he 
 does not fight. I have seen him this morning, and he declares 
 that he remembers nothing whatever of the little affair of yes- 
 terday — says he was inebriated, which is a truly shocking thing 
 — and professes that he had no quarrel whatever with you, or 
 anybody else." 
 
 With which words my visitor began to laugh, in a manner so 
 careless and good-humored that it was impossible not to do like- 
 wise. When he left me an hour afterward, the whole affair ap- 
 peared like a joke, and I forgot it. 
 
 But Baskerville was to have far more to do with my life than 
 I dreamed at that moment. Many an inward groan was to 
 salute the very mention of his name. 
 
 IY. 
 
 A PAIR OF EYES. 
 
 Three days after tins scene, I bad reason to be exceedingly 
 sorry that I had quarrelled with Baskerville. 
 
 It was at that time the habit of the young ladies of the city to 
 promenade with their gallants upon the Capitol Square in the 
 evening, and enjoy the music of a fine brass band which played 
 from a rostrum opposite the City Hall. 
 
 The scene at such moments was really charming. The white 
 walls of the Capitol rose dreamily in the moonlight ; the great 
 bronze Washington towered above ; bright forms moved to and 
 fro beneath the moon ; eyes sparkled ; smiles shone ! O summer 
 
 -1-
 
 A PAIR OF EYES. 17 
 
 night, with that wondrous moon ! whither have you flown with 
 the curls that lay in masses on those snowy shoulders? 
 
 One evening I went to listen to the music, and, lost in the 
 crowd in front of the rostrum occupied by the musicians, was 
 enjoying that sad and beautiful air, the "Mocking Bird" — when, 
 all at once, I saw in front of me a face so lovely that something 
 like a thrill passed through my frame. 
 
 It was the face of a girl — let me try and draw her outline. 
 Fancy a maiden of about nineteen, with a figure rounded, slen- 
 der, and as flexible as the stem of the river-flag — waving hair of 
 a deep chestnut, twisted up into a shining braid on the snowy 
 neck; and eyes — ah, those eyes! — they were languishing, bril- 
 liant, and of an intense and dazzling violet — that tint which the 
 summer sky wears when the purple of the sunset dashes against 
 the blue. That face and those eyes possessed a haunting beauty 
 such as I had never before seen in woman. As she stood there 
 in the moonlight, keeping time with her slipper to the strains of 
 the "Mocking Bird," I thought she was some fairy — not a girl 
 of flesh and blood ! 
 
 Such was the exquisite face — and now do you ask, how I saw 
 her eyes? I was gazing at the clear and elegant profile half 
 turned from me, when some sound behind the girl attracted her 
 attention, and she turned her head. For an instant those won- 
 drous eyes met mine — then they were withdrawn, and I heard 
 her utter some cold words to the gentleman upon whose arm she 
 leaned. 
 
 I looked at him — I had not wasted a glance upon him before. 
 It was Baskerville. 
 
 Nothing could be more unfortunate. I had made up my mind 
 to discover who his companion was — for I had seen her at none 
 of the parties which I had attended — and now there was an in- 
 separable barrier in my relations with her escort. I nevertheless 
 determined to ascertain her name, and chance seemed about to 
 assist me. The band soon ceased playing ; the crowd began to 
 disperse ; and the young lady and Baskerville approached the 
 western gate, through which the multitude were passing. I was 
 close behind them, and, just as they reached the gate, observed
 
 18 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 that she had dropped her handkerchief. Here was the opportu- 
 nity. She evidently did not observe the accident, and I hastily 
 picked up the handkerchief — resolving to read the name upon it, 
 and then return it. 
 
 Straining my eyes in the moonlight, I discovered in one corner 
 of the little perfumed affair of lace and cambric the young lady's 
 initials! "M. B. 1 ' was all; and, disappointed, I looked round 
 for the owner. 
 
 She had disappeared — lost like a flower amid the crowd. I 
 tried in vain to discover her ; and at last gave up the search. 
 
 In vain did I go to every concert, every party, every church 
 thenceforward — looking for her. She did not reappear. She 
 had vanished like a dream of the moonlight night. 
 
 I ought to have sent the handkerchief to Baskerville, you may 
 say, for transmission to its owner. So I ought to have done — 
 but I did not. 
 
 Y. 
 
 WHAT I SAW ON THE BROOK ROAD. 
 
 The incident just related made a strong impression upon me; 
 and the face I had thus caught a glimpse of in the moonlight 
 continued to haunt me. But an affair with which I found my- 
 self mixed up, a few days afterward, for the moment quite 
 diverted my attention from the owner of the handkerchief. 
 
 Having brought an excellent riding horse from Essex, I was in 
 the habit of riding out in the evening for exercise, after the con- 
 finement of the Convention. The Brook road, extending in a 
 northwestern direction from the city, was a favorite ride ; and 
 one evening I went in that direction, soon emerging from- the 
 dusty streets into the broad highway, which unrolled itself like 
 a long brown ribbon upon a robe of emerald. 
 
 Three or four miles from the city, near the point where the 
 slender spire of the Brook Church rises from the trees, a horse- 
 man at full gallop passed me, and descended the hill in front.
 
 WHAT I SAW ON THE BROOK ROAD. 19 
 
 As he shot by, I could see that lie was tall and vigorous ; his 
 face was pale ; and as he fled onward he looked over his shoul- 
 der with the air of one who is pursued. 
 
 Such proved to be the fact. As he disappeared beneath the 
 crest of the hill, a second horseman appeared approaching at full 
 speed ; and he too darted by and disappeared like a vision of the 
 night. 
 
 What could all this mean ? Here were evidently flight and 
 pursuit ; and in the Middle Ages, nothing would have been more 
 natural. Tben, gentlemen rode down their adversaries ; but, in 
 this prosaic age, men generally go in pursuit of their loves or 
 vengeances by the railway. 
 
 The apparition of the two cavaliers puzzled me so greatly that 
 I galloped on to see, if possible, what would ensue. 
 
 In this I was fortunate. He who had first appeared had de- 
 scended the hill leading to the brook, and, thundering over the 
 little rustic bridge, would no doubt have distanced his pursuer, 
 had not an accident arrested him. His horse placed his foot 
 upon a rolling stone, stumbled, and, falling, threw his rider, who 
 rose just as his pursuer came up. As the latter approached, 
 however, the former drew from his breast a paper which he tore 
 into a hundred pieces; after which he folded his arms and con- 
 fronted his opponent with an air of defiance which was discerni- 
 ble even at the distance from which I regarded the scene. 
 
 A brief parley followed, and, from the violence of the gestures 
 on both sides, a personal collision appeared about to take place. 
 None ensued, however, and to my surprise both horsemen re- 
 mounted, and returned toward the city. 
 
 As they passed me, I could see in the countenance of the one 
 who had been pursued an expression of sullen and bitter hatred 
 — in the face of the other a gloomy satisfaction, something like 
 a ferocious joy. 
 
 Such was the curious incident I encountered in my ride. As 
 the reader will soon perceive, I was destined to be present at 
 the sequel of the afltair, and witness, if not understand, the de- 
 nouement.
 
 20 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE VENDETTA. 
 
 In the fine April mornings, often before the sun had risen, I 
 was accustomed to take long walks, which more than once ex- 
 tended far into the country. 
 
 At daylight, on the morning succeeding the scene just de- 
 scribed, I know not what chance directed my steps toward 
 Hollywood Cemetery, on the banks of the James, above the 
 city. 
 
 Entering the grounds, which at that early hour were quite de- 
 serted, I strolled on to the hill upon which Monroe lies buried, 
 and, throwing myself beneath a tall elm "which grows there, 
 gazed with admiration upon the fair landscape. Below mur- 
 mured the falls, foaming around the islands with their drooping 
 foliage ; straight across shot the long white line of the Peters- 
 burg bridge, and to the left appeared the crowding roofs of the 
 city, above which rose the snow-white pillars of the Capitol, 
 brilliant in the first rays of the sun. 
 
 I was gazing in silence at this beautiful spectacle, and listen- 
 ing dreamily to the song of an oriole in the elm above, when the 
 sound of wheels on the gravel road by which I had ascended the 
 hill attracted my attention. Looking in the direction of the sound, 
 I saw two hacks, from which four gentlemen descended, saluting 
 each other as they did so. Then, without loss of time, they 
 ascended the hill, and the whole party paused in an open space 
 not ten yards from my elm. They could not see me, as I was 
 stretched upon the grass, and a row of cedar bushes around a 
 group of graves intervened. But I could see perfectly, as I 
 looked through an opening, and in two of the party recognized 
 the horsemen of the previous evening. 
 
 These affairs are rarely private, and I had no hesitation in re- 
 maining. To this I was impelled by a strong sentiment of curi- 
 osity. % 
 
 My attention was immediately riveted to the face of the pur-
 
 THE VENDETTA. 21 
 
 suer on the preceding evening. He was tall, powerful, and with 
 a face resembling bronze. His eyes, as black as night, sparkled 
 under raven eyebrows, and his heavy mustache and beard were 
 of the same color. But his expression was more striking than 
 all else. Never have I seen a fiercer satisfaction in the human 
 face. A species of instinct told me that nothing but the gratifi- 
 cation of some long-brooding passion— some cherished vengeance 
 — could bring that gladiator-like smile to the lips of a human 
 being. 
 
 His opponent's face expressed rather bitter hatred than satis- 
 faction at the approaching encounter. It was plain from his 
 sullen and lowering brow that he thirsted for his adversary's 
 blood, but not so evident that he welcomed the prospect of a 
 fair and open contest. With his small keen eyes, his thin lips, 
 and overhanging brows, I should have set him down for one who 
 would prefer doing away with an enemy by treachery — and 
 afterward I came to know that this estimate of the man was 
 entirely correct. 
 
 It was evidently the snake opposed to the tiger — not so bold, 
 but equally dangerous. 
 
 The preliminaries were soon arranged. The seconds were 
 evidently old practitioners, and their proceedings were matter-of- 
 fact and business-like. 
 
 "This spot, I think, is suitable," said one of them, "except 
 for that ugly object there." And he pointed to a newly-dug 
 grave. 
 
 "It is a matter of indifference to us, sir," returned the other 
 second, "as the fire will naturally be across the line of the 
 sun." 
 
 " That is just, sir, and if entirely agreeable to you, we will 
 now proceed." 
 
 His associate bowed, and they proceeded to measure off the 
 ground. The sound of pistols striking against their case was 
 then heard, and the click of the triggers as they were tried. 
 A short pause then followed — they were loading the weapons. 
 When this was accomplished, they were handed to the principals. 
 
 One of the seconds then said :
 
 22 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I shall give the word, which will be, ' Are you 
 ready? Fire! One, two, three' — the fire to be delivered after 
 the word ' one ' and before the word 'three.' " 
 
 The principals listened in silence, standing half-faced to the 
 right and left, the weapons pointed toward the ground. 
 
 " Before, however, this affair proceeds further," continued the 
 speaker, "I consider it my duty to make a statement in the 
 hearing of all. I was called on last night by Mr. Fenwick, with 
 whom I have only a slight acquaintance," and the speaker turned 
 toward the individual pursued and overtaken on the Brook road 
 — " who requested that I would act for him in an affair to take 
 place this morning. I consented with pleasure, but to my sur- 
 prise was informed by Mr. Fenwick that he could not state the 
 cause of the meeting — he could only assure me that it was un- 
 avoidable. I need not say, gentlemen, that such a state of things 
 is awkward. The affair is wholly informal. No correspondence 
 can hereafter be published, and both principals and seconds may be 
 placed in a most disagreeable position. I yielded to Mr. Fenwick's 
 representations that he was an entire stranger and knew scarcely 
 any one besides myself; but I again ask that the grounds of the 
 present meeting may be stated, in order that the affair may be 
 honorably arranged, or, in case it unfortunately is obliged to 
 proceed, that none of the parties may be placed in a false 
 position." 
 
 The speaker ceased, and a brief pause followed. It was broken 
 by the deep voice of Fenwick's adversary. 
 
 "I reply, sir, that the affair cannot be arranged," he said. 
 
 "You will pardon me for asking why?" 
 
 '•For reasons which cannot be now explained." 
 
 The second looked doubtful. 
 
 "I am not convinced, sir — " he began, when the man of the 
 bronzed face, with a fierce glow in his eyes, interrupted him. 
 
 " Well, sir," he said, in a voice so cold and menacing that 
 it sent a thrill through me, " I will endeavor to convince yon 
 that valid grounds exist for the encounter about to take place 
 — as take place it will, with or without witnesses. Suppose, 
 sir, that one human being has sworn against another that oath
 
 THE VENDETTA. 23 
 
 of vengeance which, in Corsica, is called the vendetta! No 
 matter what may be the reason — it may he a family feud, 
 descending from generation to generation, or it may be for an 
 ofl'ence, personal to the individual — the origin of it is nothing to 
 the point ! Well, suppose, sir, that you are the person who has 
 registered that oath ! Say it is your soul that cries out for the 
 blood of this adversary, and that, after long years spent in 
 searching for and awaiting him, you find him ! Say that you 
 discover him at the moment when he is skulking in the dark ! — 
 when he is plotting against your country as the secret agent of 
 her enemies!" — 
 
 "Impossible, sir!" exclaimed the second^ almost recoiling as 
 he spoke. 
 
 "A moment, sir — I have not yet finished," said the deep 
 voice. " Suppose that you pursue this man and he flies, tearing 
 up the paper which is the proof of his guilt! Suppose that, 
 mastered by a weak and silly deference to the so-called code of 
 honor, you offer this man a fair combat instead of putting him 
 to death ! — suppose, lastly, sir, that the adversaries are placed 
 face to face — the pistols loaded, the hopes of long years of wait- 
 ing about to be realized — suppose that, sir! — place yourself in 
 that situation — and then tell me if you imagine that the man 
 who has lived for this alone — that I — I, sir ! — will forego my 
 private vengeance!" 
 
 There was something so cold and threatening in the deep tones 
 of the speaker — his eyes burned with a fire so dark and lurid — 
 that the person whom he had addressed seemed overcome and 
 unable to find a word of reply. 
 
 At last he raised his head, and I could see upon his counte- 
 nance an expression of utter bewilderment. 
 
 "A stronger affair I never took part in !" he muttered; " and 
 if my principal is the man he is represented to be — " 
 
 The quick ear of the swarthy personage caught the muttered 
 words. 
 
 "Oh! understand me, sir!" he said; " I do not charge your 
 principal with any thing infamous. I am a gentleman by birth, 
 and am ready to meet him. You may, therefore, act for him."
 
 24 SURKY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "One moment, sir," was the reply " I wish to see Mr. Fen- 
 wick." 
 
 And, making a sign to his principal, he walked some paces 
 apart. Fenwick had listened to the words of his adversary with 
 sullen and lowering brow — with eyes cast down, but lips closely 
 set. Unable or unwilling to reply, he had evidently resolved to 
 let the affair take its own course. He was absent for about ten 
 minutes, conversing with his second, when they returned, and 
 the latter said : 
 
 " I shall continue to act for Mr. Fenwick and now withdraw 
 all my objections." 
 
 His associate bowed, and in a moment everything was ready. 
 
 The word was given : two pistol shots followed, like a single 
 report; and the man of the bronze face remained unmoved. 
 Then I looked at Fenwick. For a moment he stood erect, then, 
 uttering an imprecation, he fell forward on his face. 
 
 The seconds hastened to him, and one of them muttered : 
 
 "Shot through the lungs — he will be dead in five minutes!" 
 
 A hasty consultation was then evidently being held, and, from 
 the words "gate-keeper's house," I had no doubt of their inten- 
 tion to leave the dying man there. 
 
 My glance then fell on the man whose bullet had produced this 
 tragedy. He was standing motionless, with folded arms — the 
 smoking pistol in his hand — and in his dark, cold features I 
 thought I read that his vengeance was not even yet satisfied. 
 
 I was gazing at him still, when a signal was made to one of the 
 hack-drivers, and the vehicle ascended the hill. The dying man 
 was placed in it ; his second followed — and then the other prin- 
 cipal and second slowly descended the hill on foot, and entered 
 their carriage, which rapidly disappeared. 
 
 The whole scene had vanished ; and I gloomily took my way 
 back to the city. 
 
 On the next morning I read among the "local items" in one 
 of the journals the following paragraph : — 
 
 " Mysterious Affaik. — Yesterday morning a fatal rencontre 
 took place at Hollywood Cemetery, the particulars of which are 
 yet shrouded in mystery. About sunrise, the gate-keeper, who
 
 THE VENDETTA. 25 
 
 occupies a small house at the entrance of the cemetery, heard the 
 discharge of pistols, and, hastening in the direction of the sound, 
 met two hacks returning, one of which contained a gentleman 
 mortally wounded. He was conveyed to the gate-keeper's, and 
 suhsequently to his hotel, where he now lies at the point of 
 death. The name of the gentleman is Fenwick — that of his 
 opponent we have not been able to discover." 
 
 On the next day an additional paragraph appeared, headed, 
 " The Affair at Hollywood." 
 
 " This mysterious affair," wrote the sensation journalist, " con- 
 tinues painfully to excite the curiosity of the public. But as yet 
 no new developments have been made. The seconds and princi- 
 pals — all but Mr. Fenwick — have disappeared, and the causes 
 which led to the meeting are entirely unknown. Mr. Fenwick 
 was yesterday somewhat easier, and may possibly recover, his 
 physicians say. If the bullet of his adversary had passed the 
 one-thousandth part of inch nearer to the femoral artery, the 
 wound would have instantly proved fatal. We expect to be able, 
 in a day or two, to throw additional light upon this singular 
 affair." 
 
 Three days afterward the public were inundated with this 
 additional light. 
 
 "We are now able to explain the affair at Hollywood," wrote 
 the journalist. "The meeting resulted from a violent scene 
 which took place between Mr. Fenwick and a noted abolitionist 
 and tool of the Yankees, who has lately been lurking in this city. 
 Mr. Fenwick arrested him, and discovered the proofs of his guilt, 
 but, misled by a false sense of honor, accepted his challenge. The 
 unhappy result is known; but we are still unable to give the 
 name of the other party in the duel. Mr. Fenwick, we are happy 
 to say, is steadily improving, and his physicians declare that he 
 will soon be able to leave his bed." 
 
 Such was the flood of dazzling light poured on this "mysteri- 
 ous affair." 
 
 This paragraph, as I learned long afterward, never met the 
 eye of the person against whom it was directed, or his second, as 
 they had left the city on the morning succeeding the encounter.
 
 26 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I dropped the paper, and asked myself, for the hundredth time, 
 the meaning of the whole affair. Who was that man with the 
 ihin, cunning lips, and the eye of the snake? — who that dark per- 
 sonage with the black eyes and the face of bronze, who had sworn 
 the vendetta against his adversary ? 
 
 The curtain fell upon the mystery, and all was dark. 
 
 VII. 
 
 MT COMMISSION. 
 
 On the floor of the Convention the advocates and opponents 
 of secession meanwhile thundered on from day to day, and in 
 the committees the leaders grappled furiously, as though in a 
 breast-to-breast struggle for life or death. 
 
 The shifting phases of that great contest will some day be de- 
 lineated by the historian. They will not be followed here. 
 These memoirs hurry on to other scenes, and cannot dwell upon 
 those fierce battles of the tongue preluding the conflict of bayo- 
 nets. I will here record, however, my conviction that I, for one, 
 did injustice to many who opposed the adoption of the Ordinance 
 of Secession. I then thought they were untrue to the honor of 
 the Commonwealth. I now think that they only differed with 
 their opponents upon the expediency of secession at the moment. 
 They thought that Virginia would be able to mediate between 
 the extremes of both sections — that she could " command the 
 peace " — and that her voice would be heard across the storm. 
 Vain hope ! All at once these mists of delusion were divided by 
 the lightning flash. President Lincoln called for seventy-five 
 thousand men to coerce the Gulf States, and Virginia was di- 
 rected to furnish her quota. 
 
 From that moment all opposition to immediate secession ended. 
 Its advocates triumphed — its opponents were paralyzed, or, rather, 
 acknowledged that no other course was left. The choice was 
 now between fighting with and fighting against the Southern 
 States, and the Convention no longer hesitated.
 
 MY COMMISSION. 27 
 
 It was on the 18th day of April, I think, that, hastening to- 
 ward the Capitol, whither I had heen attracted by a sudden 
 rumor, I saw the Confederate flag rise in the place of the stars 
 and stripes. 
 
 The Convention had just adjourned for the day, and I met my 
 father in the throng. His countenance glowed, and in his earn- 
 est look I read deep feeling. Many of the members' faces ex- 
 hibited traces of tears. 
 
 At my ardent expressions of joy, my father smiled — rather 
 sadly, I thought. 
 
 "We have done our duty, my son," he said; "and you know 
 I have advocated this step from the beginning, when I think the 
 war might have been prevented. Now it is a fixed fact. What 
 do you propose to do?" 
 
 " To return at once to King William, and set about raising a 
 company. If they choose me to command them — good. If not, 
 I will serve in the ranks." 
 
 My father walked on in silence, evidently reflecting. 
 
 "Wait two or three days," he said; "there will be time 
 enough." 
 
 And we continued our way. 
 
 Three days afterward he came into my chamber, and said, with 
 a smile ; 
 
 " Good morning, Captain." 
 
 I laughed, pnd replied : 
 
 " You give me my title in advance." 
 
 " No ; I have addressed you properly." 
 
 And he handed me a large envelope, upon one corner of wMcb 
 were stamped the Virginia arms. I tore it open, and found that 
 it contained my appointment as captain in the Provisional Army 
 of Virginia, with orders to report to Colonel Jackson, command- 
 ing at Ilarper's Ferry ! 
 
 Never did lover greet more rapturously the handwriting 
 of his mistress. I rose to my full height, waved the paper 
 round my head, and uttered a "hurrah!" which shook the 
 windows. 
 
 Turning with Hushed face and sparkling eye» toward my
 
 28 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 father, I saw him looking at me with inexpressible tenderness and 
 sweetness. 
 
 I addressed myself to the task of procuring my equipments 
 with an ardor which I now look back to with a satirical smile. 
 Ah, those good days of the good year 1861 ! How anxious we 
 all were to get to horse and march away under the bonnie blue 
 flag! How fearful we were that a battle would be fought be- 
 fore we arrived ; that we would not have an opportunity of 
 reaping the glory of having our heads carried off by a cannon 
 ball ! That romance soon passed, and the war became a " heavy 
 affair " — but then it was all illusion and romance. 
 
 At the end of a week I had procured my uniform and equip- 
 ments. The first consisted of a suit of gray, the sleeves of the 
 coat profusely decorated by my fanciful tailor with the gold 
 braid of a captain : the latter of a light sabre, pistol, saddle, and 
 single blanket, strapped behind. My slender wardrobe was 
 carried in the valise upon the horse of my servant, an active 
 young negro, who had figured as my body servant, and was de- 
 lighted at " going to the wars." 
 
 I bade my friends good-by, and then went to have a last in- 
 terview with my father. I still see his noble face, and hear his 
 grave, sweet accents. There were tears in his eyes as he pressed 
 my hand, and I think my own were not dry. 
 
 I got into the saddle, waved my hand, and, followed by my 
 servant, set out upon the untried future. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE LONELY HOUSE. 
 
 It was the end of April when I commenced my journey toward 
 the Potomac. The weather was charming, the birds sang in the 
 trees, and the face of nature lay before me, all smiles and sun- 
 shine, her form clothed in that tender green with which she 
 salutes the spring.
 
 THE LONELY HOUSE. 29 
 
 Such was the fine and pleasant season when the writer of the 
 present memoir, clad in Southern gray, with his horseman's 
 hoots, and gayly-clattering sahre, set out for the wars, his mind 
 full of rosy dreams, his pulse thrilling with anticipations of 
 adventure. 
 
 To-day he seems quite a stranger to the old hattered soldier, 
 whose pulse rarely thrills, and who is tired of romance and ad- 
 venture — or almost. 
 
 I made ahout thirty miles the first day, and stopped that night 
 in the neighborhood of Beaver Dam, at the house of the hospit- 
 able Colonel F , who gave me a cordial reception. On the 
 
 next morning I again set out, turning my horse's head toward 
 Raccoon Ford, on the Rapidan. 
 
 The country through which I now passed was thinly inhabited, 
 and toward the afternoon I began to feel convinced that I had 
 missed my road. This, I soon ascertained from a wayfarer, was 
 the fact ; I had inclined too far toward the right, and my shortest 
 route now to Culpepper Court-House was by way of Germanna 
 Ford. Long before reaching that point it began to grow dark, 
 and I found myself in the region near Cliancellorsville known as 
 the " Wilderness." 
 • All around me extended a dense and unbroken expanse of 
 thicket, which the eye vainly tried to pierce. The narrow and 
 winding road through the gloomy undergrowth resembled rather 
 a dusky serpent than a highway, and, as I penetrated deeper and 
 deeper into this mysterious wilderness, the lugubrious sights and 
 sounds which greeted me were ill calculated to raise my spirits. 
 The silence was unbroken, save by the melancholy cry of the 
 whippoorwill, buried in the swampy thicket; and no living 
 object was seen, except when some huge owl, startled by the 
 tramp of the horses, flapped his heavy pinions across the road, as 
 lie sought refuge in the shadowy depths of the wood. The moon 
 had risen, and was struggling amid a bank of clouds ; but the 
 solemn light served only to bring out in clearer relief the sombre 
 details of the wild and deserted landscape. The long branches 
 depending above the narrow road resembled the shaggy arms of 
 goblins, reaching down to grasp and carry the traveller away ;
 
 30 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and I know not what melancholy influence, born of the place and 
 time, weighed down my spirits, filling me with almost supersti- 
 tious depression. Here night and a solemn gloom seemed to 
 reign undisputed, and the notes of the whippoorwill resembled, 
 to my fancy, the cries of unhappy beings imprisoned in these 
 mournful solitudes. 
 
 That strange Wilderness, now associated with so many scenes 
 of blood and death, had enticed me into its depths. I was the 
 captive of its funereal shadows, its ominous sights and sounds, 
 and, as will soon be seen, I was to explore some of its mysteries. 
 
 The depressing influence of the scene evidently affected my 
 servant also. He drew nearer to me, and suggested that the 
 horses were too much fatigued to go further. 
 
 To this view I assented, and, telling him we would stop at the 
 first house, continued my way, still pursuing the narrow road 
 through the unending thickets. I went on thus for another hour, 
 and, despairing of reaching any house, was about to bivouac in 
 the woods, when all at once a light was seen glimmering through 
 the boughs on my right. Never was any sight more welcome, 
 and pushing on, I came to a brush fence at the foot of a hill, 
 skirted with pines, upon which the moonlight enabled me to dis- 
 cern a small house. . 
 
 Leaping the low fence, I ascended the hill, found myself before 
 a sort of cottage, with flowers growing round the porch, and a 
 light in the window ; and, dismounting, knocked at the door. 
 
 What was my astonishment, to hear, in a sweet and eager voice, 
 in response to my knock, the words : 
 
 "Come! come! you are expected. 1 ' 
 
 Overwhelmed with surprise, I opened the door and entered. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE WOMAN IN WHITE. 
 
 The apartment in which I found myself was small, with a rag 
 carpet on the floor, split-bottomed chairs, a walnut table, and a 
 broad fireplace, above which ticked an eight-day clock.
 
 THE WOMAN IN WHITE. 
 
 31 
 
 This I took in at a glance, but my eyes were speedily riveted 
 npon the person who had uttered those singular words, "Come! 
 come! you are expected." 
 
 It was a lady of about thirty-five apparently, who still ex- 
 hibited traces of extraordinary beauty, though she was thin to 
 emaciation. Her hair had once been auburn — it was now 
 sprinkled with gray ; and the magnificent eyes were deeply 
 sunken in their sockets. They still possessed, however, a won- 
 derful brilliancy, and it was impossible not to be struck with 
 their mingled gloom and tenderness. The dress of this singular 
 personage still further excited my astonishment. It was of white 
 muslin, low-necked, and with short sleeves. The shoulders 
 and arms thus revealed were thin to a painful degree, and their 
 pallor was frightful. To complete the singularity of her cos- 
 tume, there fell from her carefully braided hair a long bridal 
 veil of snowy lace, and around her neck she wore a superb 
 necklace. 
 
 As I entered, the lady rose with sudden animation and a beam- 
 ing expression upon her countenance, but immediately sank back, 
 murmuring : 
 
 "It is not my dai'ling! He will not come — he will never 
 come!" 
 
 This strange scene had so completely taken me aback that I 
 remained standing in the middle of the apartment without utter- 
 ing a word. There I might have continued to stand, deprived 
 of all power of utterance ; but all at once a door opened, and a 
 woman of about fifty, hard-featured and morose in manner, and 
 plainly dressed, hastily entered. 
 
 "What will you have, sir?" she said in tones as cold as an 
 icicle. I explained that my horses were worn out, and that I 
 wished to secure a night's lodging — a statement which was 
 greeted with the freezing reply : 
 
 " This is not a house of entertainment, sir, and we cannot 
 lodge you." 
 
 I would have retired upon receiving this ungracious answer, 
 but the pale lady came to my succor. 
 
 " No, no," she said in her sweet and mournful voice, " he must
 
 32 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 not go away. I thought it was my darling — and he is tired. 1 
 also am tired, oh very, very tired." 
 
 And she sighed drearily, relapsing into silence. Her hands 
 were clasped upon her lap, but from time to time she played with 
 a little golden cross suspended from her necklace. Suddenly the 
 clock struck, and the sound produced a singular effect upon her. 
 She rose to her feet, turned toward the door, and, throwing back 
 her long lace veil with a movement of inexpressible grace, ex- 
 claimed with sparkling eyes : 
 
 " That is the hour ; and he will soon be here. He is coming 
 now !" 
 
 In fact, the hoofs of a horse were heard upon the ground with- 
 out, and with flushed cheeks the lady hastened to the door, to 
 which my servant had just ridden up. The mysterious lady evi- 
 dently mistook the noise for that made by the person whom she 
 expected, and, throwing open the door, stood with clasped hands 
 in an attitude of passionate expectation. 
 
 The scene, however, came to a sudden end. The harsh-looking 
 woman hastened to the lady's side, and, with a singular mixture 
 of deference and roughness, exclaimed : 
 
 " What are you doing, madam ? Do you suppose he will be 
 glad to see you, if you make yourself sick by going into the night 
 air? Besides, your hair is all coming down, and it makes you 
 ugly. Come, and let me fix it up again." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" was the mournful reply, "he always loved to have 
 my hair neatly arranged. He will not like to see me thus ! But 
 will he come? I fear he will never come! No, no! — he will 
 never, never come !" 
 
 And, hiding her face with her hands, she wept bitterly, and 
 permitted herself to be led away. She passed through an inner 
 door, and I was left alone. 
 
 To describe my astonishment at this extraordinary scene 
 would be impossible. I stood motionless in the midst of the 
 apartment, gazing at the door through which the lady had dis- 
 appeared, and it was not until I heard a voice at my very elbow 
 ihat I realized my whereabouts. 
 
 It was the voice of the harsh-looking woman, who now re-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE WILDERNESS. 33 
 
 turned to inform me, with greater emphasis than before, that 1 
 must go further on to secure a night's lodging. Her mistress, 1 
 must see, was insane, she said; and any company made her 
 worse. 
 
 She had scarcely finished, when a musical voice behind me 
 said: 
 
 " It is not necessary for this gentleman to go, Mrs. Parkins. 
 We will soon have you some supper, sir. Pray sit down. You 
 are very welcome." 
 
 X. 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OP THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 I passed from one enchantment to another. I had seen a mys- 
 terious bride. I now found myself vis-a-vis to a young beauty 
 of seventeen, whose appearance was sufficiently attractive to 
 monopolize my whole attention. 
 
 Let the reader figure to himself an oval face exceedingly sweet 
 and winning; large blue eyes full of unclouded serenity; and a 
 delicate mouth, which expressed at once extreme modesty and 
 very great earnestness. Around this countenance, at once femi- 
 nine and full of character, fell a profusion of auburn ringlets — 
 not curls — reaching scarcely to the neck. The figure, clad in a 
 light spring dress, was slender and graceful — the hand small and 
 white as snow. In the depths of the tranquil blue eyes, I thought 
 I could discern unknown treasures of goodness, and great Avas 
 my surprise at finding this aristocratic girl buried in an obscure 
 abode of the wilderness. 
 
 She welcomed me with an air of simplicity and ease which no 
 princess could have surpassed ; and under the influence of this 
 manner, so firm yet unassuming, even the morose woman, who 
 now reappeared upon the scene, seemed to grow less harsh. 
 She placed some supper on the table — muttered a promise to see 
 to my servant and horses — and then withdrew. 
 
 The young lady, who had calmly introduced herself as " Miss 
 
 2 *
 
 34 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Grafton," took her seat at the tea-tray, and conversed during 
 the meal with the same unaffected tranquillity. She spoke of 
 the lady in white without being urged; but simply said that her 
 mind was disordered — especially upon "a certain anniversary in 
 April," which had chanced to be the night of my arrival. Then 
 she glided to other topics, and finally suggested that I must be 
 weary. My bed was ready — would I retire ? 
 
 So I retired to a small, neat chamber above — to lie awake for 
 (lours thinking of her. 
 
 At last I fell asleep, but I had a singular dream. I thought I 
 heard in my chamber low, cautious footsteps, as though a woman 
 were walking with bare feet upon the floor. Tip ! — tip ! — tip ! — 
 I could have sworn the sound was real. As I listened, too, with 
 a quick beating of the heart, I thought I saw a dusky figure flit 
 before me — something rustled — then the whole disappeared, and 
 silence reigned in the chamber. 
 
 Was it all a dream ? I asked myself as I opened my eyes at 
 dawn. For the life of me I could not decide, and I finally dis- 
 missed the subject from my mind. 
 
 At that moment I heard the hoof-strokes of a horse beneath 
 my window, and a long acquaintance with the indolent character 
 of my servant convinced me that the horse was not my own. 
 
 Going quietly to the window, I raised a corner of the white 
 curtain, and, looking out, saw a horse standing, ready saddled for 
 a journey, before the door. 
 
 On the steps the woman Parkins was conversing with a man 
 wrapped closely in a dark cloak, and wearing a drooping hat. 
 [n spite of this disguise, however, I recognized one of the parti- 
 cipants in the duel at Hollywood — the person called Fenwick. 
 
 He was thinner and paler, no doubt from his recent wound ; 
 but I saw before me the same dark and sinister face ; the same 
 bold yet lurking glance ; the same lips, thin, compressed, and 
 full of cunning. 
 
 I heard only the last words which passed between these 
 worthies. 
 
 " This officer must not see me," muttered Fenwick, " and I am 
 going. Ourse that girl! how I love her and hate herl"
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE WILDERNESS. 35 
 
 The woman uttered a harsh and grating laugh, which sounded 
 strangely from those morose lips. 
 
 "That's her feeling for you, except the love," she said- "she 
 don't seem to like you, sir." 
 
 "And why!" exclaimed Fenwick in a sort of rage, "because 
 I have told her I love her! — because I cannot live away from 
 her! — because I would give up all for her! — therefore she hates 
 me!" 
 
 And I could hear the speaker grind his teeth. 
 
 " "Well, it is not my fault, is it?" came in harsh tones from the 
 woman. " I do what I am paid for " 
 
 "And you would sell your soul for gold!" interrupted Fen- 
 wick, with a bitter sneer 
 
 "Suppose I would!" was the reply; "but I can't make the 
 young lady care for you. You had better give her up, and pur- 
 sue her no longer." 
 
 "Give up the pursuit! — do you think I will do that? to be 
 foiled and beaten by a simple girl! — No! I swear by all the 
 devils in hell she shall not escape me !" 
 
 He spoke so loudly and violently that the woman growled in 
 a low voice : 
 
 " You will be overheard. After hiding all last night, you will 
 be seen by the officer — I hear him stirring in his room." 
 
 Fenwick hesitated a moment ; ground his teeth ; glanced at 
 iny window ; and then, shaking his clenched hand, leaped upon 
 his horse. 
 
 "What is delayed is not lost!" he exclaimed bitterly. 
 
 And putting spur to the animal, he disappeared at full gallop 
 in the thicket. 
 
 Such was my third meeting with this personage, who went 
 and came on secret errands, fought duels with nameless ad- 
 versaries, and had loves or hatreds to gratify wherever 
 he went. While musing upon the singular chance which had 
 again thrown him in my way, I was summoned to breakfast, 
 at which Miss Grafton presided. The lady in white did not 
 reappear. 
 
 " My cousin is sick, and I hope you will excuse her, sir," was
 
 36 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 the calm explanation of the young girl ; and with this I was 
 obliged to remain content. 
 
 "When the meal was ended I ordered my horses, and at my 
 request Miss Grafton walked out with me upon the knoll before 
 the house, where I repeated to her the conversation I had over- 
 heard between Fenwick and Mrs. Parkins. 
 
 It seemed to excite no surprise in her whatever, and I observed 
 no exhibition of emotion in her countenance. 
 
 "I owe you many thanks for your friendly warning, sir," she 
 said tranquilly ; " but this is not the first intimation I have had of 
 these designs." 
 
 " But I am sincerely uneasy, Miss Grafton," I replied; "this 
 man is dangerous and perfectly unscrupulous." 
 
 "I do not fear him, sir," she said. " God will defend me." 
 
 Her voice was so brave and firm that I could not restrain a 
 glance of admiration. 
 
 " You have witnessed some singular things in this house, sir," 
 the young lady added, "and I am sorry that they attracted your 
 attention. In regard to Mr. Fenwick, I shall say nothing; but I 
 trust that you will not speak of the condition of my unfortunate 
 relative, whose derangement is very painful to me." 
 
 "Most assuredly I shall not, if you wish it." 
 
 " She is quite ill this morning, in consequence of the excite- 
 ment last night, and I should feel no surprise if she died at any 
 moment. Her life is a sad one ; and it will gratify those who 
 love her — I am almost the only one — if her condition is not made 
 the subject of speculation or remark. She has long been buried 
 here, and if she is to die, it is better that no notice should be 
 taken of the event. She is not happy!" 
 
 And deep silence veiled the eyes of the fair girl as she slowly 
 returned to the house. 
 
 A few minutes afterward I bade her farewell, and got into 
 the saddle. A bow, a motion of the hand, which she responded 
 to by an inclination of her head — and we parted.
 
 THE PACKAGE. 37 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE PACKAGE. 
 
 Crossing the Rapidan at Germauna Ford, I pushed on through 
 Culpepper Court-IIouse, toward the mountains, intending to pass 
 the Blue Ridge at Ashby's Gap. 
 
 The strange scenes which had greeted my eyes and ears in the 
 Wilderness still absorbed my whole attention ; and I taxed my 
 memory to recall every circumstance, however minute, con- 
 nected with my sojourn in the abode of the White Lady. I was 
 thus engaged, and rode on musing deeply, when, chancing to put 
 my hand in my coat pocket, it struck against something. 
 
 I drew this something out, and found that it was a package of 
 papers in a large envelope, securely sealed in several places, with 
 a crest stamped on the sealing wax — but the astonishing circum- 
 stance was that the envelope bore no direction whatever. 
 
 All at once I saw something in one corner, in the delicate 
 handwriting of a woman, and deciphered the words: 
 
 " Read these when I am dead — and remember 
 
 Your own Feances." 
 
 That was all! But that little was a whole world of wonder. 
 Who could this " Frances " be, and whence came this package? 
 All at once came the recollection of that vision of the preceding 
 night. I remembered the faint footfalls on the floor of my 
 chamber, as though delicate feet without slippers were tipping 
 along, and something told me that the White Lady had entered my 
 chamber and placed that package in my pocket. The more I re- 
 flected, the stronger was my conviction of the fact. She had, 
 no doubt, experienced a confused impression of my identity or 
 acquaintance with the person whom she had expected on that 
 " certain anniversary in April " mentioned by Miss Grafton — 
 had entered my apartment — deposited the package in my coat 
 pocket for delivery to the unknown, and, before I could detect 
 her, had glided away, with the cunning of insanity, and dis- 
 appeared.
 
 38 SUKRT OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Such was my explanation of this singular circumstance ; but 
 another question now presented itself : "What was I to do with 
 the package ? I could not lose a whole day's journey and return 
 — that was impossible ; and yet I did not wish to retain the 
 papers of the poor, deranged lady. "What should I do ? The 
 best decision to which I could come was, to take care of them 
 until I had an opportunity of returning or sending them back by 
 a safe hand ; and, having thus decided upon my course, I re- 
 placed the package in my pocket, pondering deeply upon that 
 strange indorsement: 
 
 "Eead this when I am dead — and remember your own 
 Frances." 
 
 Then her name was Frances. What was the rest ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 HOW I ENCOUNTERED A TRAVELLER, AND OF WHAT 
 WE CONVERSED. 
 
 I followed a winding road through the woods, and was now 
 approaching the Eappahannock. 
 
 I had found the country on fire with the war fever, and at 
 every cross-road crowds of idlers had congregated, who discussed 
 and rediscussed the events of the day. These would gladly 
 have stopped me to ascertain every circumstance which I had 
 ever known, heard, or imagined. But I had no desire to delay 
 my journey for the idle amusement of gossips and busybodies. 
 So I turned a deaf ear to all their allurements, and steadily 
 pressed on toward the Rappahannock. 
 
 I had reached a point within a few miles of the river, when I 
 saw in front of me a traveller on a superb white horse. Of the 
 animal's action I soon had a convincing proof. 
 
 A bridge on the road, over a stream with precipitous banks, 
 had been swept away, and I heard the roar of the waters. The 
 traveller, I supposed, would seek a crossing above or below, but 
 in this I was mistaken. All at once I saw him put his horse at
 
 A TRAVELLER. 39 
 
 the opening — the animal rose in the air — and, with a gigantic 
 leap, cleared the chasm. 
 
 As I approached, the traveller halted, and I saw him look over 
 his shoulder. I glanced at him — then at the stream. It was 
 fully fifteen feet, and I assure you, my dear reader, I had not the 
 least idea of attempting it. 
 
 Ignominiously riding along the beach, 1 discovered a crossing, 
 and in a few moments had joined and saluted the man on the 
 white horse, who was courteously waiting for me. 
 
 He was low of stature, apparently about thirty, and his 
 costume was the careless dress of a gentleman. The face was 
 a striking one — very dark, heavily bearded, and rather brigand- 
 ish. But no bandit ever could boast a pair of eyes like the 
 stranger's. They were brown, and sparkled with unmistakable 
 good humor ; the whole countenance, indeed, was full of gayety 
 and courtesy. Altogether, there was something in the cavalier 
 on the white horse which irresistibly attracted you. 
 
 ""What a splendid animal, sir!" I said, when we had ex- 
 changed the greeting of wayfarers; " I really envied you when 
 I saw you take that leap !" 
 
 "I have cleared wider places," was his smiling reply, as we 
 rode on ; " and I don't think the Yankees could catch me very 
 easily." 
 
 " Do you belong to the army ?" 
 
 " To a cavalry company of this county, sir. I fear that we 
 shall soon be cutting right and left." 
 
 " You fear that ?" was my rather discourteous question ; but 
 the stranger did not seem to observe the word. 
 
 "Yes," he said in his mild voice , "I am sorry to fight the 
 North. War is terrible, and, do you know, I have a lingering 
 affection for the stars and stripes still ?" 
 
 " I felt as you do once, but we must choose a new flag.' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What will it be?" I said, "the Southern cross? the Palmet- 
 to ? We have a number of emblems to choose from." 
 
 "Yes, but I have chosen mine," said the stranger simply. 
 
 " What is it ?"
 
 40 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 He took off his hat and drew from it a small square of silk, 
 upon which was painted the Virgin of Virginia trampling upon 
 the neck of the tyrant, with the motto traced beneath, " Sic sem- 
 per tyrannis." 
 
 " This is the flag I intend to fight under,"* he said in the same 
 mild voice. 
 
 "It is the best of all!" 
 
 "Yes," he said; "I had it painted the day before I left Rich- 
 mond, and, sink or swim, live or die, I intend to fight under it to 
 the last!" 
 
 There was something so noble and chivalric in the dark face 
 of the stranger as he spoke, that I gazed at him with uncon- 
 cealed admiration. Again I observed, too, his perfect mastery 
 of his powerful white horse, his sinewy frame, his flashing eye 
 — and I thought, "You would be dangerous in a charge!" 
 
 But the traveller did not seem to observe the effect which his 
 words had produced. The glow disappeared from his counte- 
 nance, and he rode on — the picture of a kindly, unassuming gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Of that kindness of temperament I soon had an illustration. 
 On the road we came up with a little girl in a tattered frock, 
 without shoes or stockings, who limped along painfully over the 
 rocky way. My companion observed her weariness, and, check- 
 ing his horse, asked where she was going. The mild voice 
 seemed to disarm any fears the child had, and, looking out with 
 large eyes from her tangled hair, she replied that she had been 
 some miles to carry a message, and was returning home. 
 
 "How far is TiomeV asked the stranger, smiling. 
 
 "About two miles, sir," replied the child. 
 
 "Two miles!" exclaimed the stranger; "you can never walk 
 that far, little one, with your sore feet. Come, get up, I will 
 give you a ride!" 
 
 And reaching down, he lifted the child and placed her before 
 him on the saddle. He did not seem to notice that the dirty 
 and tattered dress rubbed against his spotless shirt bosom, as, 
 
 * His words.
 
 A TRAVELLER. 41 
 
 resting in his arms, the child looked at him out of her great 
 eyes. 
 
 The stranger quietly rode on, still conversing, until we reached 
 a point opposite a poor house seen across the fields: here the 
 child slid down, and disappeared. 
 
 We then continued our ride, conversing as hefore, and I found 
 my companion a very delightful talker. He was perfectly mod- 
 est and unassuming, hut a man of excellent sense. I should 
 have classed him with those persons who are described by the 
 phrase " they would not hurt a fly " — but at times his brown eyes 
 flashed, and a chivalric glow lit up his dark face, as we spoke 
 of the coming contest. 
 
 When we reached a cross-road, not far from the river, and, 
 checking his white horse, the stranger informed me that he must 
 leave me, to pay a visit to a friend, I really regretted the part- 
 ing. 
 
 "I hope, however, to see you again, captain," he said, address- 
 ing me by the title which my uniform indicated. "My house is 
 on your road, and I shall be at home to-morrow. I live at Mark- 
 ham's, near Manassas Gap, and trust you will make use of my 
 house to-night. My name is Turner Ashby, and my brother 
 Richard is at home. I shall expect to see you when I reach 
 home to-morrow morning." I accepted this obliging offer with 
 many thanks, as my day's journey would terminate in the vicin- 
 ity of Markham's ; and, with a friendly pressure of the hand, my 
 travelling companion disappeared at full speed on his white 
 horse. 
 
 I fully intended to make my way to his house, but, as the reader 
 will soon see, was prevented from doing so by " circumstances 
 over which I had no control."
 
 42 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE OWNER OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 Fobding the Rappahannock near the little hamlet of Orleans, 
 I stopped to dine and feed my horses at the hospitable mansion 
 
 of Mr. M ; and then continued my way, drawing nearer 
 
 and nearer to the long blue wave of the Ridge. 
 
 I lost no time, as heavy banks of clouds piled up on the hori- 
 zon indicated an approaching storm ; and the thunder already 
 began to mutter in the distance. The declining sun, threatening 
 and bloody, poured its crimson light upon field and forest as I 
 hastened on ; and from time to time vivid flashes of lightning 
 lit up the dark masses slowly gathering overhead. Then all at 
 once, without warning, and ere I dreamed of its approach, rushed 
 down from the mountains a veritable hurricane. 
 
 Never before had I encountered anything like this sudden tor- 
 nado. It blinded me, and took my breath away. Roaring as it 
 came, like a thousand wild beasts unloosed, it tore across the 
 fields, whirled amid the boughs of the forest, and carried every- 
 thing before it. 
 
 I had entered a belt of woods, through which the road ran, 
 ere I realized the extent of the hurricane ; and now went on at 
 full speed, to escape the dangerous vicinity of crashing boughs 
 and tree trunks. The air was filled with limbs torn from the 
 trees, and more than once, as .1 passed beneath, I narrowly 
 escaped being struck by them. 
 
 All at once, as I went on at full gallop, I saw a horse shoot 
 out from a side road, a hundred yards in front of me, and a 
 second glance told me that the rider was a young lady. Her 
 hair was flowing in heavy curls upon her shoulders, from beneath 
 the coquettish little hat and feather ; her habit streamed like a 
 meteor ; and, with head thrown back, and slender form erect in 
 the saddle, she seemed to be enjoying the hurly-burly of the 
 storm. 
 
 Behind her came a servant, urging his horse violently with
 
 OWNER OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. 4:3 
 
 hand and heel — as perfect a specimen of terror as his young 
 mistress was of "game." 
 
 I was charmed with the enticing figure which sped on before 
 me, and pushed my horse to his utmost speed, not only to escape 
 the storm, but also to keep up with the young lady. As I did 
 so, the hurricane increased in intensity. The air was full of fly- 
 ing boughs : twice I was obliged to leap trees which had crashpd 
 down between myself and the young lady: finally my enjoyment 
 of her splendid horsemanship came suddenly to an end. The 
 storm came on with a roar which surpassed all its former fury ; 
 a huge limb above me snapped — the next moment I was struck 
 violently upon the head, and hurled from my horse to the 
 ground. 
 
 I must have been completely stunned for some moments. 
 When I opened my eyes and came to my senses, I saw the 
 young lady kneeling beside me, and felt her arm under my head. 
 At ten paces the frightened servant held her horse. The storm 
 raged as furiously as before, but the young lady seemed perfectly 
 indifferent to it. 
 
 Suddenly I recognized in the face close to my own something 
 familiar ; then a thrill ran through my frame. It was the 
 owner of the handkerchief which I had picked up, on that 
 moonlight night, in the grounds of the Capitol at Richmond ! 
 
 There was no sort of doubt about the identity of the young 
 lady. There were the same beautiful lips, as red as carnations ; 
 the same waving chestnut hair ; the same eyes, half haughty and 
 half languishing — great violet eyes, which had haunted me ever 
 since that evening ! 
 
 I must have looked at her fixedly, for a slight rose-color came 
 to the cheeks. Then it faded, and she said, with the most per- 
 fect calmness : 
 
 "Are you much hurt, sir? Your arm seems to be broken." 
 
 "I do not know," I murmured. "I am ashamed to trouble 
 you!" 
 
 "You do not trouble me at all, sir," was the reply of the 
 young lady. " I will assist you to rise." 
 
 Was anything ever less romantic ? Instead of rescuing the
 
 44 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 young girl, of whom I had dreamed so long, here she was coming 
 to my own succor and rescuing me ! 
 
 Rising faintly to my feet, with a sort of vertigo in my brain, I 
 managed to mount my horse, which was led up at the moment, 
 and the young lady, too, got into the saddle. 
 
 "You must not ride rapidly: I fear you are seriously hurt," 
 she said. " I am in no haste, and will accompany you until you 
 feel stronger, sir." 
 
 And she calmly rode on by my side. 
 
 She was in no haste ! — and yet the forest was a whirlpool of 
 falling limbs and crashing trees, as the storm roared on with 
 unabated fury ! My fair companion exhibited not a single 
 evidence of fear — her face was as calm and cold as before. You 
 would have said that she was riding pensively along on a tranquil 
 May morning. 
 
 We soon issued from the forest. 
 
 " "Will yon come to my father's house, sir, until the storm is 
 over?" my companion now said. " I think you need some rest 
 before riding further." 
 
 "Thanks!" I murmured, in a sort of dream, as I listened to 
 that voice. 
 
 And she led the way into a by-road which ran in the direction 
 of a house which I saw rising from the woods upon a distant 
 hill. 
 
 Still stunned, bewildered, and scarcely realizing my situation, 
 I rode on by the side of the young lady, who seemed not to ob- 
 serve the rain which now drenched her chestnut curls and her 
 riding habit. She did not again open her lips; and I was too 
 faint and weak to address her. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour we reached a large white gate, 
 ascended a grassy hill, and stopped before the portico of an 
 old mansion of very considerable size, overshadowed by mag- 
 nificent oaks. I remember some dogs were lying upon the 
 portico, and a peacock was cowering with wet plumage beneath 
 one of the trees. Memory is a curious faculty and deals in 
 trifles. 
 
 I had dismounted, with the vague feeling that I ought to assist
 
 A FOLLOWER OF CALHOUN. 45 
 
 the young lady from the saddle, when a gentleman, with long 
 gray hair falling upon his shoulders, came out and approached us. 
 
 After that, I don't remember much more. My arm seemed on 
 fire ; a mist passed before my eyes, and, only dimly realizing 
 that the arm of the gray-haired gentleman was around me, 
 I lost consciousness. 
 
 Again, ray dear reader, can you possibly imagine any incident 
 less "heroic" than this first meeting with the lady of the 
 handkerchief? 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A FOLLOWER OF CALHOUN. 
 
 1 have no intention now of drawing a vivid and affecting pic- 
 ture of an amiable family turned topsy-turvy and running to and 
 fro. 
 
 Here is what I saw when I opened my eyes : an old lady in 
 a white cap, busily bandaging my broken arm; an old gentleman 
 with long gray hair, who was superintending the operation; and 
 a young lady with chestnut curls, who reclined in a chair oppo- 
 site, and did not seem greatly interested in the scene. 
 
 Five minutes after regaining consciousness, I had the satisfac- 
 tion of knowing that I was not among strangers at all, but was 
 the guest of Colonel Beverley of "The Oaks," one of my father's 
 oldest and most intimate friends. 
 
 "M. B.," on the handkerchief I had picked up, stood for Mis9 
 May Beverley, his daughter. 
 
 On the evening of the same day, my arm felt perfectly easy ; 
 and I was talking politics with my host. 
 
 He was really a character. Imagine, my dear reader, a tall, 
 thin gentleman, nearly seventy years of age, with long gray hair 
 falling in elf-locks on his shoulders; eyes as keen and piercing 
 as those of an eagle; but a smile so soft and sweet that no 
 woman's ever exceeded it in suavity. In every movement of my 
 host was the elegance and distinction of the old race of cavaliers ;
 
 46 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and in the gray-haired gentleman with the sweet and winning 
 smile, I was utterly unable to recognize the stern old doctrinaire 
 whom my father had often described to me — the politician of 
 passions so fiery, invective so withering, and a combativeness so 
 fierce and implacable. I knew that in the great war for State- 
 rights, when South Carolina opposed Jackson in 1832, no man 
 had been more violent and resolute than Colonel Beverley, who 
 had passionately espoused the views of Mr. Calhoun, and proved 
 himself a fire-brand of agitation and revolution. 
 
 I need not record the conversation which took place between 
 myself and my host. Great was his satisfaction when he heard 
 that I was a son of " old Phil. Surry, one of his very best 
 friends. I must stay as long as possible. "What was the news 
 from Richmond ? These cursed Yankees were going to invade the 
 South — the bludgeon against the rapier — the crop-eared Puritan 
 against the Cavalier ! Curse the Pilgrim Fathers, and the whole 
 canting breed of 'em ! The South had been fighting them for 
 fifty years in Congress, and was ready now to meet them on the 
 battle-field I John Brown nor John Devil should put the heel 
 on him/ Old Patrick Henry and Randolph of Roanoke saw 
 clearly how the thing was going to work — saw the ' poison 
 under the wings ' of this Federal contrivance, which had proved 
 a dead failure from the start ! The South had paid two-thirds 
 of the revenues of Government ; had furnished all the Presi- 
 dents ; had built up the shipping and manufactures of New 
 England ; and now these people had grown presumptuous and 
 greedy — they must put to death the bird that laid the golden egg, 
 and get all at once ! But the South was ready to meet them — ■ 
 she would resist with the bayonet ! She might be overwhelmed 
 by numbers, but she would fight to the last. With the denial of 
 the doctrine of State-rights every thing went ; old John C. Cal- 
 houn saw the working of the venom of Federalism and warned 
 the North of the consequences; but they scoffed at him. "War 
 was now at hand, and the only hope for the country was in the 
 triumph of the South. If she failed, all was over ; mobocracy 
 would rule, and all go to ruin. Against this the South was the 
 only breakwater. She must spread the old State-rights banner
 
 PYGMALION. 47 
 
 to the winds — meet the enemy breast to breast — and if she fell, 
 let her fall with the old State-rights flag around her — glorious 
 even in her death !" 
 
 As the old doctrinaire thus spoke, his face flushed, his eyes 
 burned, his form quivered. It was the fiery outburst of a 
 veritable volcano — you could smell the hot odor of the hissing 
 lava! 
 
 XY 
 
 PYGMALION. 
 
 I have no doubt my fair readers — if, indeed, I am honored 
 with such — have carefully omitted perusing that tirade upon pol- 
 itics — hastening on to some imaginary "love scenes." 
 
 Alas ! mesdames, there were none at all to record. It would 
 charm me, not only upon your account, but my own too, to 
 describe some romantic interviews with this young lady ; but I 
 should be compelled to draw upon my imagination. That would 
 not become the narrator of real events — and thus, all these ex- 
 pectations must be disappointed. 
 
 The young lady did not melt — indeed, she seemed to freeze 
 more and more. I can scarcely describe the phenomenon which 
 I then witnessed. Liking is apt to conciliate liking in return — 
 to a certain extent, at least ; but the more she knew of me, the 
 less Miss May Beverley seemed to care for me. It is impossible 
 to describe the chill and stately air with which the young lady 
 received my attentions. It was the bearing of a duchess who 
 repels one of the commonalty ; and it commenced the very daj 
 after my arrival. 
 
 She came into the parlor where I was lying on a sofa, and 
 slightly bending her head, upon which the bright chestnut hair 
 was now disposed in rich braids, inquired calmly how I felt. 
 
 "Thank you — a great deal better!" was my reply, as I gazed 
 with unconcealed admiration upon the beautiful girl. "My hurt
 
 4:8 SURRY OF EAGLE ' S-NEST. 
 
 is very trifling, and I am only too glad I received it — for it haa 
 given me the happiness of knowing you." 
 
 I must have spoken with ardor, and betrayed what I felt, for, 
 as her eyes met my own, full of eager feeling, her cheek colored 
 slightly, and she turned away. 
 
 " I have spoken too warmly for a stranger, perhaps, Miss Bev- 
 erley — a mere acquaintance of yesterday," I added, " but you will 
 pardon me, I hope — these are not times of ceremony. Feeling 
 ripens rapidly now, and the acquaintance of to-day becomes the 
 friend — perhaps more than the friend — of to-morrow!" 
 
 She turned toward me — as I caught her expression, my heart 
 sank. It was a statue of ice which I saw before me — or marble, 
 if you like the comparison better. 
 
 "Pardon my words, Miss Beverley," I murmured, "but you 
 are not a mere acquaintance. You exposed yourself to danger 
 to assist me in the wood yonder " — 
 
 "Not at all, sir!" she interrupted, in a freezing tone; "it was 
 nothing; and I would have done as much for any one." 
 
 I sank back, silent, and cruelly mortified. 
 
 "Does your arm pain you much, sir? I hope it is better this 
 morning. The sun is coming out, I think, and the weather 
 promises to be fair again." 
 
 With which words, Miss May Beverley moved calmly to the 
 window ; looked out ; raised her snow-white hand to arrange the 
 braids of her hair ; and then slowly glided out of the apartment 
 — cold and stately to the last. 
 
 There is the first interview, my dear feminine reader. Do 
 you think that it promises any thing "thrilling," or "roman- 
 tic " ? 
 
 It was a specimen of all. Miss Beverley did not thaw — she 
 grew colder and colder as I grew warmer. 
 
 For I no longer tried to deceive myself upon the subject of my 
 sentiments toward her. In a day — an hour, as it were — her love 
 had become the only thing worth living for. Her eyes were the 
 stars of the evening sky — her chestnut hair the golden waves of 
 sunset — in her smile was the splendor of the pensive moon that 
 shines in the summer night !
 
 PYGMALION. 49 
 
 In other words, it was a world all "moonlight, love, and flow- 
 eis" which I inhabited, my dear reader. See the song for the 
 rest. 
 
 "When my mind was not reduced to an imbecile condition about 
 May Beverley, I used to lie on my sofa, and flush with anger at 
 a thought which incessantly recurred. Had Baskerville, with 
 whom she had been walking that evening, basely uttered in her 
 presence something to my discredit? Had he misrepresented 
 that encounter at the hotel, and thus poisoned the young lady's 
 mind against me? When that thought came to me, I clinched 
 my hands, and fell into silent rages. More than once I deter- 
 mined to ask, plainly, the truth ; but the cold face of the young 
 lady always repelled me. That pride and disdain, too, which 
 is the vice of the Surry family, withheld me. If she would 
 take that man's word, and condemn me without a hearing, 
 she cared nothing for me ! Why should I make myself ridi- 
 culous ? 
 
 In other words, I was in love with Miss May Beverley, and my 
 choice seemed to be unlucky. It is an old story. I don't mean 
 to prose on with it. 
 
 I will only say, that " day after day," as sighs the hero of 
 " Love's Chidings," the same phenomenon was presented — a man 
 burning, and a woman freezing. The longed-for thaw never took 
 place in May Beverley ; and even in her selection of songs — for 
 she played and sang exquisitely — she seemed to repel her unfor- 
 tunate wooer. 
 
 Sec! she strolls to the piano, yonder, with that "regal, indo- 
 lent air," of a born duchess, half haughty, half careless, all grace- 
 ful. The April sun lights up her waving hair, and crowns the 
 bright head like a glory. 
 
 Listen ! she touches the piano, and then commences singing 
 in a voice which echoes through the old hall. Do you know 
 what site is telling, whoever listens, in that song? Here is the 
 cheerful and jovial view of life and human nature which I listen 
 to for my mental improvement, as I lie on my sofa, or beud over 
 her, my face close to the perfumed hair and the snow-white neck, 
 encircled by the thin golden chain. 
 3
 
 50 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 (Favorite air of young ladies in the land of "Dixie," as sung 
 by Miss May Beverley, con espress. :) — 
 
 " In the Mrth of spring to meet ! 
 
 In the morning oir so sweet ! 
 And woman's love is sweeter than roses in May: 
 
 Butihe birth of spring will fleet, 
 
 Like the roses at her feet! 
 And love, lite the seasons, must soon pass away. 
 
 "The summer sun is bright, 
 
 And the swallow's wing is light — 
 And woman's love is warm as a fair summer day; 
 
 But the sun will set at night, 
 
 And the swallow wing his flight — 
 And love, like the summer, must soon pass away ! 
 
 " The leaf on autumn's bough 
 
 In the moonlight glimmers now — 
 And woman's love i8 as pure as its soft silver ray; 
 
 But the leaf goes on the gale, 
 
 And the silver moon will fail — 
 And love, like the autumn, must soon pass away J 
 
 " Gay winter sweeps us by, 
 
 Joy beams in every eye — 
 And woman's love is gayer and brighter than all ; 
 
 But chill 's the, winter's breath, 
 
 And the eye must close in death — 
 And love, death, and winter must all pass away 1" 
 
 The young lady ceases — her voice dies away, and I observe : 
 
 "That is a lively and inspiring air you have selected, Miss 
 Bevsrley. It is my favorite song — after the ' Miserere ' in 
 Trovatore.' 1 '' 
 
 I laugh as I make this brilliant jest, but no smile touches the 
 beautiful face of the young lady. 
 
 "Do you like Verdi?" she says, indifferently. And touching 
 the piano, she commences singing — 
 
 "Ah! fors' 61ui." 
 
 As she sings, her voice soars, triumphs, and the silver trills 
 ring through the old hall and the adjoining grounds. This time 
 I do not joke — I hang upon her lips. "With eyes glowing, boson?
 
 PYGMALION. 51 
 
 heaving, and cheeks full of passionate feeling, the young lady 
 gives to the music of Verdi an effect which I never dreamed it 
 possessed. 
 
 The ice had melted, roses had tinted the marble face — it was a 
 passionate girl, not a cold and stately woman, which I saw 
 before me. 
 
 Then the air died away ; the color in the cheeks faded : she 
 was marble again. 
 
 "You spoke of the 'Miserere,' " she said, in a tone of careless 
 indifference, as she ran her hands over the instrument before 
 her. 
 
 "Yes, it is the soul of sadness." 
 
 " Then you do not wish to hear it ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, I should be delighted if you would sing it." 
 
 " I will try, then ; if I weary you, tell me, and I will stop." 
 
 If she wearied me ! The idea seemed curious to the hapless 
 individual who could have stood there, beside her, and listened 
 to her forever. 
 
 So, in slow, measured strains, came that singular air which 
 Owen Meredith heard Mario sing, " Aux Italiens,' 1 and which 
 brought back his early love from the grave. That is a tenor 
 song, my dear reader, as you doubtless know ; and before I heard 
 May Beverley, I thought no woman could sing it. She made the 
 music magical, and I still hear that strain, echoing forever in 
 my memory. Was it her own heart speaking in the mournful 
 music ? Had she ever bidden farewell to any love in those wild 
 accents ? I knew not — I only knew that her voice produced an 
 indescribable effect upon me, and that, on that day, I did not 
 ask her to sing again. 
 
 I pass on from that period of enchantment. It was only for a 
 moment, now and then, that the violet eyes glowed, the cheeks 
 filled with color. The young lady remained as obstinately chill 
 as before ; and yet a little incident at the time seemed to indicate 
 that she possessed deep and earnest feelings. 
 
 There was a young Charley Beverley, her brother, who had 
 been off on a visit somewhere, but returned now to " The Oaks " 
 to get his equipments and join the forces on the Potomac.
 
 52 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Charley was a gay youngster, of about seventeen, with only one 
 passion in the world — to ride unbroken colts : only one ambi- 
 tion — to shoulder a musket and go and fight "the Yankees." 
 He was a favorite with all, but his sister May seemed his special 
 adorer. She hung around the youth with the deepest fondness 
 and devotion; sewed night and day at his articles of clothing; 
 could not bear, apparently, to have him out of her sight, and, 
 when he was leaving her, covered his face with passionate 
 kisses, and burst into an agony of tears. As the youth disap- 
 peared, she passed by a certain gentleman with an air of utter 
 unconsciousness of the fact of his existence, and, going to her 
 chamber, did not reappear again until the next morning. 
 
 She then made her appearance, as cold and haughty as before. 
 All traces of emotion had vanished from her face ; her tones 
 were calm and indifferent ; her walk as measured, stately, and 
 queenlike as before. 
 
 Altogether, I came to the conclusion that Miss May Beverley 
 was a singular character, and I only regretted that*I had been 
 so unfortunate as to become the victim of her beautiful eyes. 
 Things are 'in a desperate condition with a wooer, my dear 
 reader, when he is sorry that he ever met "her." If you are 
 young and susceptible, I strongly advise you to avoid the Jilles 
 du marbre. Sunshine and roses are much better than the gray 
 skies of winter, when the shining flowers seem destined never to 
 bloom again! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE GUEST WHO DID NOT COME. 
 
 Two or three more scenes will terminate those days at " The 
 Oaks." I shall now ask the reader to be present at a grand 
 dinner which the hospitable Colonel Beverley gave in honor of 
 his chance guest. 
 
 Here is the company seated at the broad table, in the large 
 dining-room, through which go and come, with shining faces, 
 the ebon subjects of the well-known "irrepressible conflict."
 
 THE GUEST WHO DID NOT COME. 53 
 
 After the dessert is finished, the ladies disappear — Mrs. Bever- 
 ley hland and smiling, her daughter silent and distraite. 
 
 The old Colonel then hegins to talk politics. He has sur- 
 rounded himself with a Spartan phalanx of " original secession- 
 ists," every one of whom is a passionate admirer of the great 
 Calhoun, and the unanimity of the company, upon politics, is 
 almost painfully perfect. Tt is hard to find points of difference 
 sufficient to afford discussion ; but the Colonel manages to pick 
 out an old gentleman who injudiciously "doubts if the views of 
 Mr. Calhoun were entirely practicable " — and then the storm 
 begins. Let us close our ears to it, reader, and remain quiet ; it 
 will soon expend its wrath. Listen ! it is already over, and 
 Colonel Beverley is addressing your humble servant. 
 
 ''Captain Surry," he says, bowing and drinking a glass of Ma- 
 deira to my good health, " you are here in the midst of the lead- 
 ing traitors and chief gentlemen — the two being the same — of 
 the County of Fauquier. There is not a single neighbor of mine 
 absent to-day — yes, one is not here, but no invitation ever tempts 
 him." 
 
 " Who is your hermit, Colonel?" 
 
 "Youmayw?ll give him that name. I sent him a pressing 
 invitation to meet you to-day, but he very politely refused." 
 
 I began to laugh. 
 
 "I am more anxious than ever to hear who he is — as not even 
 the charms of my society can move him." 
 
 " His name is Mordaunt." 
 
 "I do not know him." 
 
 "But surely you must have heard of him?" 
 
 "Not in the least. We are too good Virginians down there 
 on the Rappahannock, to hear of, or care for, anybody out of our 
 own county." 
 
 The old Colonel laughed and replied : 
 
 "Well, that accounts for it; but I must tell you about Mor- 
 daunt. He is one of our celebrities, though few people have 
 ever seen him. In one word you have described him — he is an 
 absolute hermit." 
 
 " And where does he live?"
 
 54 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " On a spur of the Blue Ridge, a few miles from this place. 
 His life of seclusion is only a part of the singularity ahout him." 
 
 " You excite my curiosity more and more, Colonel." 
 
 "Well, I'll try and gratify it, though I really know little, of 
 my own knowledge, in regard to him. There is something mys- 
 terious about the man and his history — a somewhat doubtful re- 
 commendation you will say — but our Mordaunt is unquestionably 
 a gentleman. He is still a young man, between thirty-five and 
 forty at least ; but is known to have served against the French 
 in Algiers, where he fought for many years, taking the side of 
 the Arabs. It is even said that he became a leading chief among 
 these wild bands, and was as active against their enemies as if 
 he had been a good Mussulman." 
 
 "That is a curious story, Colonel." 
 
 " Is it not ? But the man and his surroundings are even more 
 singular. I have met him two or three times— purely by acci- 
 dent — and can describe him to you. He is tall and dark — in 
 fact, burnt nearly black by the sun of the tropics ; but his manner 
 is very distinguished, and it is impossible not to see that he is 
 a gentleman born and bred. Now, as to his mode of living. It 
 is said that his house, which is situated in a secluded part of the 
 country, near the mountain, is full of tiger skins, strange weapons, 
 and a hundred outlandish mementos of travel in distant lands. 
 An ample estate enables him to gratify every whim, but he is 
 said to live very simply, spending most of his time in his study. 
 When not thus engaged, he is hunting, or taking long and solitary 
 rides among the mountains. All the old hunters know him, and 
 look upon him as a demi-god. He prefers their society, appa- 
 rently, to that of all other persons — though he scarcely ever opens 
 his lips, it is said, except to speak in Arabic to a Moorish attend- 
 ant he has brought with him from Algiers. Is not all that rather 
 curious ?" 
 
 " A real chapter from the pages of romance, Colonel ; but what 
 is the mystery of his life ?" 
 
 "I really do not know — nor does anybody. He came to live 
 in this country a few years ago, but he goes nowhere, discourages 
 visitors, and it was only by accident that I made his acquaintance.
 
 THE "LAST RIb& TOGETHER." 55 
 
 I have invited him to come and see me, two or three times, but 
 he always sends a cool, though perfectly courteous, refusal. I 
 thought I could tempt him to break his rule to-day — but you see 
 I have failed." 
 
 " I am sorry, for I really should like to meet your singular 
 hermit." 
 
 And the conversation glided to other topics. Soon afterward 
 the company rose, and, hearing the piano, I went into the draw- 
 ing-room and found Miss May Beverley singing the " Tempesta 
 del mio cor." Was there really a storm raging in the heart of 
 that statue ? I had never seen her look colder, or less repellant 
 in her manner, though the music of Verdi had brought a faint 
 rose-tint to the beautiful cheeks. 
 
 She ceased singing as I entered, and strolled carelessly to the 
 window. 
 
 "It is a very fine day," she said, beating a tattoo on the pane. 
 
 "Superb," I replied, " and I am sorry that the company to-day 
 prevented the ride you promised to take." 
 
 " Yes — I think I should have enjoyed it." 
 
 "Will you ride to-morrow, then?" 
 
 " If you wish, sir." 
 
 "What were you playing?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 And she staolled away languidly, preferring her own thoughts, 
 apparently, to my society. Pygmalion sighed — his statue seemed 
 never destined to glow with human feeling. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE "LAST RIDE TOGETHER." 
 
 There is a piece in Browning called " The Last Ride Together." 
 Did you ever meet with it, my dear reader? It is worth your 
 notice. Read that wonderful extravaganza, that supreme cry 
 of passion from a heart that fails in the struggle, and you will
 
 56 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 have some idea of the feelings of a friend of yours when he took 
 his last ride with May Beverley. 
 
 The month of flowers had come now — May had bloomed in all 
 its glory — and the girl who bore the name of this month of 
 months seemed blooming too. The balmy breezes blew against 
 her cheeks just tinted with the rose, made the ribbons of her 
 bodice flutter gayly, and just stirred the bright waves of her 
 chestnut hair, in which nestled a single flower of spring. The 
 lips, pensive and half parted, had the ripe red of the carnation — 
 the great dreamy eyes were as blue as the sky above us. 
 
 Then I knew what the poet meant when he made his unfor- 
 tunate hero utter that prayer, that he might "ride forever, for- 
 ever ride " by the side of the woman he adored. 
 
 The young lady had promised to conduct me to a lofty hill, 
 from which there was a superb view, and we were soon flying 
 along through fields and forests toward the Blue Ridge. In half 
 an hour we reached the hill, and I saw far beneath me the green 
 slopes of Fauquier, crowned with white mansions, embowered 
 in the young spring foliage. To the right, and in rear of us, rose 
 the shaggy, pine-clad sides of the Blue Ridge. 
 
 She checked her horse, and, leaning her cheek upon her hand, 
 murmured, as she gazed at the beautiful landscape : 
 
 "What a contrast to the tedium and sameness of society!" 
 
 Then looking at me with her large, pensive eyes: 
 
 "I believe I will turn hermit," she added. 
 
 " Like the Solitary of the Blue Ridge ? He must have inocu- 
 lated you with his enthusiasm for retirement." 
 
 "I have never seen him," was her reply. 
 
 " And you do not know where he lives?" 
 
 "No, I have never heard." 
 
 And she relapsed into silence. 
 
 I see her now as I saw her then — leaning her fair cheek 
 languidly upon the delicate gauntlet, and gazing pensively toward 
 the blue horizon. She wore a brown habit which revealed every 
 outline of the exquisite figure— slender, and swaying like the 
 reed, or the lily ; the plume in her riding-hat just shaded her 
 white forehead, and against the snowy neck shone the glossy
 
 THE "LAST RIDE TOGETHER." 57 
 
 braids of her hair. There, sitting upon her docile bay, in the 
 bright spring afternoon, May Beverley was " a sight to make an 
 old man young." 
 
 You fancy, perhaps, that the spring sunshine had at last 
 thrilled her pulses, and that the marble statue had become a 
 happy girl. Listen! 
 
 "Life is a dull affair," she murmurs; "nature the only solace, 
 and even that is not very gay. Come, sir, you must be tired of 
 waiting. Let us ride on." 
 
 So we descended the hill, and rode in the direction of another. 
 Pausing to enjoy every new view, the young lady did not seem 
 to observe the lapse of time. The light slowly faded, darkness 
 approached, and we found ourselves many miles from "The 
 Oaks," in a wild and unknown region. 
 
 "We had better return," I said. "But do you know the 
 country?" 
 
 She looked round carelessly, and replied : 
 
 " Not in the least, sir?" 
 
 " Then I really think we had better lose no time in retracing 
 our steps before the light entirely disappears." 
 
 She bent her head indifferently, and turned her horse into a 
 road which led through a belt of woods. 
 
 " This is the direction to ' The Oaks,' " she said. " I know by 
 the mountain." 
 
 And she tranquilly rode on ; but I was by no means satisfied. 
 We were in a wild and rugged country — I knew how easily a 
 road is lost — and night was now upon us. We had entered what 
 resembled an interminable forest, and soon the winding charac- 
 ter of the road we pursued rendered it almost certain that we 
 were not proceeding in the direction of " The Oaks." 
 
 " I am very sorry to inform you, Miss Beverley," I said at last ? 
 "that we have lost our way. This a slight affair to myself, but 
 the air is growing cold, and you are very thinly clad." 
 
 " It is nothing," she replied coolly ; "I never take cold, and we 
 can inquire at the first house we find." 
 
 But none appeared — still stretched on aud on the interminable 
 forest. 
 
 3*
 
 58 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 It was then that I thought of the "Last Ride" of Browning. 
 If we never reached " The Oaks " any more forever, hut con- 
 tinued thus to ride, side by side ! would that destiny he hard? I 
 would have accepted it. 
 
 But suddenly a light glimmered through the foliage to the left, 
 and we soon reached a tall gate, which evidently led into the 
 grounds of a dwelling-house. "We passed through it, rode on 
 through an avenue of magnificent trees, and, ascending a gentle 
 slope, found ourselves in front of a low, brick mansion, with 
 extensive wings, over which drooped the arms of some enormous 
 black oaks. 
 
 1 dismounted, and at the first sound of the knocker — I remember 
 it was a scowling face, in bronze, like the mask of the old trage- 
 dians — the door opened, and a singular figure presented itself. 
 It was that of a young Moor, about eighteen apparently, with a 
 slender frame, swarthy face, and sparkling black eyes. He wore 
 an ornamented caftan, a braided jacket, and around his waist 
 was tied a shawl by way of girdle. 
 
 I briefly explained the object of my visit, but the young Moor 
 shook his head, evidently to indicate that he did not understand 
 my words. I was about to repeat my attempt to make him com- 
 prehend me, when all at once my eyes encountered an object 
 which drove everything else from my mind. 
 
 The door leading into an apartment on the right of the entrance 
 was open ; a chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling 
 lit up a strange scene of furs, weapons, and pictures ; but what at 
 once riveted my gaze was a portrait hanging on the wall of the 
 apartment, full in the light of the chandelier. 
 
 That portrait was the most exact likeness of the young lady I 
 had encountered at the house in the Wilderness — Violet Grafton. 
 
 I gazed at it with very great astonishment. Why was that 
 picture hanging here? Could the Solitary of the Mountains— 
 for this was plainly the house of Mordaunt — know the girl 
 buried yonder in that obscure mansion? Here plainly was her 
 portrait ; what relation did she bear to him ? 
 
 I was still gazing, lost in astonishment, at the beautiful face, 
 with its mild eyes peering out from the golden ringlets, when
 
 THE "LAST RIDE TOGETHER." 59 
 
 the hoof-strokes of a horse resounded on the avenue, and the 
 young Moor, who had remained standing by me motionless, at 
 once hastened to the door. 
 
 A man riding a powerful black horse had halted there, and 
 across the pommel of his saddle I saw the dead body of a bear, 
 still bleeding from a deep gash in the throat. The light then 
 fell upon the features of the horseman. I recognized the un- 
 known adversary of Fenwick in the duel at Hollywood Cemetery. 
 
 Mordaunt — for the reader no doubt understands that this was 
 the solitary — saluted Miss Beverly with profound but ice-like 
 courtesy. Then he bestowed a bow of the same description 
 upon me. 
 
 I hastened to break the awkward pause by an explanation of 
 the object of our visit. Mordaunt replied in a tone of formal 
 politeness that he would send a servant to guide us back — mean- 
 while, as Miss Beverley must be fatigued, would she honor him 
 by dismounting ? When this proposal was declined, the formal 
 personage uttered three words in Arabic, to the young Moor, 
 and in a few minutes a mounted servant was ready to accom- 
 pany us. Mr. Mordaunt was evidently accustomed to talk little 
 and to be served promptly. He did not utter another word, and 
 his formal air — mingled with deep gloom — had not changed for 
 an instant. 
 
 "You have a magnificent bear there," I said as I mounted; 
 "was he killed in the mountain, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the brief reply; "he gave me a hard fight, but 
 I mastered him." 
 
 A slight color came to the swarthy cheek. The recollection 
 of his combat seemed to please the stranger. But he seemed to 
 have little desire to describe it or to prolong the interview. His 
 manner was perfectly polite, but no ice could be colder; and, 
 thanking him for the guide, I set out with the young lady for 
 "The Oaks." 
 
 A ceremonious bow from the tall, gloomy figure — a slight 
 movement of Miss Beverley's head in return — so we parted. 
 
 " "Well, what do you think of the hermit?" I said, laughing, as 
 we rode on.
 
 60 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "He is very cold in his manners," was her indifferent reply. 
 " Something in his past life must have made him melancholy." 
 In an hour we had reached " The Oaks." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE ALGERINE. 
 
 On the next morning I mounted my horse, and, following the 
 road by which we had returned on the preceding night, soon 
 found myself again in sight of Mordaunt's house. 
 
 The object of my visit is easily explained. I had never ceased 
 to remember the cold and yet passionate tones of that deep 
 voice which had resounded before the duel in Hollywood Cem- 
 etery ; and I know not what it was that told me, that some great 
 tragedy had darkened this man's life — some mortal poison im- 
 bittered a character grand, noble, and magnanimous. I could 
 read that great nature in the clear bold eyes, the proud curl of 
 the lips, and the dignity of his most passionate utterances. Now, 
 this man, in whom I took an irresistible interest, was about to 
 be the victim of a plot devised by his bitter adversary. The 
 young lady whose portrait was hanging on his wall — his friend 
 or his kinswoman — was the object of the dark designs of Fen- 
 wick, as I had ascertained that morning in the Wilderness. It 
 was certain that these designs were unknown to Mordaunt. 
 "Was it not absolutely incumbent upon me, as a man of honor, to 
 put him on his guard by revealing them? 
 
 It did not take me very long to decide that question ; and the 
 result was my visit. I entered the tall gate, passed between the 
 long rows of trees, through the extensive grounds, and, dismount- 
 ing, grasped the scowling knocker, and let it fall. This time a 
 negro answered my summons, and, showing me into the room on 
 the right, containing the portrait, went to announce my visit to 
 his master. 
 
 The apartment in which I found myself was curious. It was 
 evidently the private sitting-room of the owner of the mansion ;
 
 THE ALGERINE. 61 
 
 and, as I afterward discovered, I had been shown into it by 
 mistake. Nothing more outre, than the appearance of this room, 
 can possibly be imagined. The furniture was antique, with gro- 
 tesque ornaments carved upon the wood ; and, in place of a car- 
 pet, the floor was covered with the most magnificent skins, pre- 
 serving the outlines of the animals from which they had been 
 torn. Ilere were the shaggy spoils of the lion of Morocco; the 
 mottled and tawny skins of the Bengal tiger; and the brilliant 
 fur of the East India leopard, as soft as and more pliable than the 
 finest velvet. With these were mingled other rich furs; and the 
 peculiarity which struck me was the extreme care taken to pre- 
 serve the appearance of the animals. The eyes were replaced 
 by dazzling globes of agate ; the teeth grinned threateningly be- 
 neath the curled lips ; and the sharp claws seemed ready to tear 
 any one who approached. 
 
 On two sides of the apartment the walls were covered with 
 books in every language. The opposite wall was filled with pic- 
 tures, representing combats on foot or horseback; encounters 
 between French Zouaves and Arabs in white burnous ; hunting 
 
 scenes, and every species of conflict with man or animal. Be- 
 tween the pictures hung, crossed as trophies, weapons of every 
 
 description, including beautiful specimens of the Moorish yata- 
 ghan, the Turkish scimetar, the deadly crease of the Malays, and, 
 by way of grim jest apparently, one of the long rude pikes used 
 by John Brown and his followers when they invaded Virginia. 
 On the table lay pipes of every form, chibouques, hookahs, nar- 
 ghiles, meerschaums carved into grotesque or beautiful figures, 
 and the plain but excellent Powhatan pipe of Virginia. In 
 porcelain jars beside them were a dozen varieties of tobacco — 
 the pale Latakia ; the dark Shiraz ; the Peerrique from New Or- 
 leans, black, fibrous, and powerful ; and the milder brown, that 
 which is raised on the south side of James River. 
 
 Across an open volume of Hugo's u Les Miterables,' n which had 
 then just appeared, lay a black meerschaum, which its owner 
 seemed to have been lately smoking. 
 
 Such was this curious apartment ; and it was impossible not to 
 speculate upon the character of the individual whose tastes it
 
 62 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 seemed to reflect. Here were the spoils of war and the chase •, 
 the best books of all languages ; and pictures which seemed to 
 start from the walls as you gazed upon them. Was my host, 
 then, a mixture of the soldier, the hunter, the student, and the 
 amateur of art ? One thing was very plain — that he had little 
 taste for female beauty : not a picture of the entire collection 
 contained a single female figure. The portrait of Miss Grafton 
 was the sole recognition of the existence of her sex. 
 
 I was gazing intently at this portrait, whose resemblance to 
 my beautiful young hostess of the Wilderness struck me still more 
 forcibly than before, when the door opened, I heard a step be- 
 hind me, and the owner of the mansion entered. 
 
 His manner, as he greeted me, was characterized by the same 
 cold yet perfect politeness which I had observed on the preced- 
 ing evening. But in this there was no affectation whatever. It 
 seemed never to have occurred to him that he ought to ask, "To 
 what am I indebted, sir, for the honor of this visit?" That is 
 a phrase, my dear reader, which is used only in novels, or by 
 charlatans. Mr. Mordaunt's bearing was gloomy, but that of a 
 Virginia gentleman welcoming a guest. He was evidently a 
 man of the world, however, and, like the Black Douglas, " his 
 hand was his own/' He was perfectly polite — seemed to regard 
 my visit as a courtesy bestowed upon hiin — but there everything 
 ended. Behind the host was the man — and with that personage 
 Mr. Mordannt evidently thought that I had nothing to do. 
 
 His voice, as he conversed upon the events of the day, was 
 deep, measured, and sonorous : his manner, although gloomy, was 
 high-bred, and what we call, for want of a better word, " distin- 
 guished." In half an hour I saw plainly that this hermit of my 
 imagination was not only a deep and powerful thinker, but a 
 trained and self-collected man of the world. 
 
 From the fugitive topics of the moment, the conversation 
 passed to art, and I said, as I pointed to the picture of Miss Graf- 
 ton: 
 
 "I was admiring that fine head when you entered, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt. It is a portrait, is it not ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," was his reply, in a voice of perfect coolness.
 
 THE ALGERINE. 63 
 
 M I think I know the original." 
 
 " The original!" he said, with a sudden glow upon his swarthy- 
 face; "you know the original? That is impossible, sir — she is 
 dead." ' 
 
 "Dead!" I exclaimed, in my turn, "why, that is impossible t 
 I saw her only a few days ago." 
 
 My host greeted this statement with a look of unmistakable 
 astonishment. He did not speak for a moment ; and then said, 
 coolly, in his deep, measured voice : 
 
 " You have doubtless met some lady who resembles this por- 
 trait, sir. I repeat, that the original is long sinco dead." 
 
 "Are you certain, Mr. Mordaunt?" 
 
 "Perfectly certain, sir." 
 
 And I saw something like a shadow pass over his broad fore- 
 head. 
 
 "Your statement fills me with the utmost astonishment," I 
 said. " Then you do not know a young lady named Violet Graf- 
 ton?" 
 
 " I have never heard of her, sir." 
 
 I looked at my host. It was impossible to believe that this 
 man, with the proud and loyal look, the deep, earnest voice, and 
 the bearing so cold and grave, could be deceiving me. And yet 
 it was utterly impossible that this portrait was not intended for 
 Miss Grafton. The likeness was positively startling. 
 
 Curiosity had now mastered me and absorbed every other sen- 
 timent. I determined to penetrate, if possible, that armor of re- 
 serve in which my singular host had encased himself. 
 
 "You have never heard of Miss Grafton, Mr. Mordaunt?" I 
 said. "Well, at least, you know a Mr. Fenwick, do you not?" 
 
 The question struck home. The head, which had drooped as 
 though bowed down by some gloomy recollection, suddenly rose 
 erect, and Mordaunt gazed at me with a glance so piercing that 
 the dark eyes seemed straining to penetrate my inmost soul. 
 Then the head sank again, and he replied, in tones more cold and 
 formal than I had yet heard from his lips: 
 
 " Yes, I know a person named Fenwick, sir." 
 
 "This person, at least, is alive, is ho not?"
 
 64 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I believe so," he said; and a flash of unmistakable hatred lit 
 up his black eye. 
 
 " Well, I know it, Mr. Mordaunt." 
 
 " You are, then, acquainted with him ?" was his cold interrog- 
 atory. 
 
 " I have never exchanged a word with him, but I have seen 
 him twice, and under somewhat peculiar cirsumstances. On the 
 first occasion he was engaged in a duel — on the second, he was 
 plotting against the peace of a young lady." 
 
 Mordaunt looked at me fixedly, and said : 
 
 "Where did that duel take place, sir?" 
 
 "In the grounds of Hollywood Cemetery, at Richmond." 
 
 He did not reply for a moment, and his dark eye still remained 
 fixed upon my own. Then he said, with perfect coolness : 
 
 " I really do not see how your presence, upon that occasion, 
 could have escaped me, sir. I thought that the principals and 
 seconds in the affair were the only persons who witnessed the 
 meeting you refer to." 
 
 In ten words, I recounted everything. Mordaunt listened with- 
 out interrupting me, and, when I had finished, said, with cool 
 indifference : 
 
 "Well, that was really curious; and your explanation shows 
 that, in this world, many things pass us by without attracting 
 our notice. I thought the parties in that affair were the only 
 persons present." 
 
 " You thought, also, that your adversary was dead, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt — but he is not. He is not only alive, but at this very 
 moment is engaged in a conspiracy against a young lady who, if 
 not the original, is the exact image of the portrait hanging yon- 
 der on your wall." 
 
 And I briefly informed my host of that encounter with Fenwick, 
 at the house in the Wilderness ; repeating the words which I had 
 heard him utter on the steps. Mordaunt listened with close 
 attention, and seemed especially struck with my description of 
 Miss Graf ton. 
 
 "The image of my portrait !" he muttered; "that is very 
 •trange — these singular resemblances 2"
 
 THE ALGERINE. 65 
 
 His eye wandered to the picture as lie thus muttered to him- 
 self, and he seemed to pass in gloomy thought to other scenes. 
 His brows contracted, his lips became rigid ; then something like 
 a bitter smile came to them. 
 
 Suddenly he seemed to realize my presence, and his glance was 
 lowered, nis face resumed all at once its former expression of 
 impenetrable coldness. 
 
 " You will pardon my absence of mind, sir," he said, in his 
 formal tone. " I am almost a recluse here, and the habit grows 
 upon me. Thanks for your visit, and this information in regard 
 to that person and his plots. You know more of my relations 
 with him than I thought you could ; but I am sorry to say that 
 circumstances of a private nature will not permit me to explain 
 an enmity which must appear somewhat singular to you. You 
 heard the words I addressed to my adversary's second, when he 
 attempted to stop that affair. Thus you know in what light 1 
 regard this person. I have sworn the vendetta against him, Cap- 
 tain Surry," continued my host with a flash of the dark eyes 
 which resembled lurid lightning, " and I will keep that oath ! 
 There is something more sure and fatal than the instinct of the 
 bloodhound : it is the eye and hand of the man who has sworn 
 to have his vengeance!" 
 
 "I tell you this, sir," he said, more coldly, after pausing for a 
 moment, " because you are a gentleman of mind and discretion, 
 who will feel no temptation to repeat my words. So much for 
 the relations which exist between myself and that wretch. Of 
 this Miss Grafton, I declare to you again, that I know nothing. 
 If she resembles this portrait, as you seem to think, the resem- 
 blance is purely accidental. As to the plot of that person, and 
 the danger she is exposed to, I shall only say that I hope soon 
 to remove all possibility of annoyance from that quarter." 
 
 There was no mistaking the meaning of these words, so cold 
 and full of menace ; but the speaker seemed to suppress, by a 
 powerful effort of his will, any further exhibitions of enmity, and 
 plainly wished to change the topic. 
 
 "My servant has shown you into my private study, sir," he 
 now said with his former air of courteous reserve, " and these
 
 M SURRY OF EAQ-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 decorations, no doubt, appear to you eccentric. They are the 
 rubbish of travel, and were intended for no eye but my own." 
 
 "They interest me much," was my reply. "You have visited 
 Europe?" 
 
 " Yes, I spent some years there." 
 
 " In Algiers." 
 
 " Ah ! you discover that from my pictures and weapons." 
 
 "No, I heard it before I ever saw you." 
 
 "Well, gossip is right for once, sir." 
 
 "You served against the French." 
 
 " Yes, I took, part with the Arabs." 
 
 " And have brought back one of the faithful." 
 
 "You mean my Moor, Achmed?" 
 
 "Is that his name?" 
 
 " Yes. The youth took a fancy to me when he was a mere 
 child, and, since the death of his father, who fell in battle, has 
 remained with me. I am very much attached to him, and I 
 believe that he would lay down his life for me." 
 
 "Were you often engaged with the French ?" 
 
 " Frequently — they are the best troops in the world. I did 
 not rank myself on the side of the Arabs from any dislike of 
 their enemies, but because their soil was invaded." 
 
 " The same principle will, doubtless, lead you to offer your 
 sword to the South." 
 
 "Assuredly." 
 
 " You, then, think of entering the army?" 
 
 "I never thought upon the subject. I am a Virginian — I fight. 
 therefore, as a matter of course." 
 
 •' l r ou are right, Mr. Mordaunt. And what branch of the ser- 
 vice, may I ask, do you intend to enter?" 
 
 "The cavalry — it is that with which I am most familiar. I 
 have already raised a company, and it is nearly ready for the 
 field. The men are all mountaineers of this region, excellently 
 mounted, and have done me the honor to choose me for their 
 captain, from having heard, I suppose, that I am not entirely a 
 novice in military matters. But I am indulging in egotism. 
 Will you smoke? Here are several sorts of pipes and varieties
 
 THE ALGERINE. 67 
 
 of tobacco, sent me from Europe. I prefer a plain meerschaum, 
 and the Lynchburg in that jar near your hand: you will find it 
 excellent." 
 
 I declined, and, pointing to the volume upon which his own 
 pipe rested, said : 
 
 "I see you are reading ' Les Miserahles.'' It absorbed me, in 
 Richmond, where I found a copy. Do you like it?" 
 
 "It is a mournful book," replied Mordaunt, "and at times 
 affects even as rough a husk as my own. It is rather too long, 
 perhaps; but then the subject is an inexhaustible one, the history 
 of ' the wretched.' " 
 
 "It is the story of humanity." 
 
 "You are right," said my host, " a tragedy, that is to say." 
 
 " Are all lives tragic ?" 
 
 " When they are not dull. Life is a poor affair, to my thinking 
 Captain Surry, and the shadow predominates. But we are growing 
 didactic. Are you fond of arms ? I have a tolerable collection." 
 
 And taking down weapon after weapon, Mordaunt pointed out, 
 with evident interest in the subject, their various merits. 
 
 "Man is a blood-thirsty animal," he said, "and cudgels his 
 brains to invent improved instruments of death. But after all, 
 this mediaeval bludgeon, studded with points of steel, is as effec- 
 tive as the last invention. My own favorite is the light French 
 sabre, pliable and pointed. Held at tierce-point, with the horse 
 at a gallop, it easily pierces through from breast to back." 
 
 And he passed to other weapons. When they were exhausted, 
 \ie called my attention to the pictures. 
 
 When, an hour afterward, I parted with my host, I felt that I 
 had been conversing with a remarkable man. Beneath the cold 
 exterior I could easily see the traces of a powerful organization ; 
 in the flash of the dark eye there was a latent force and passion 
 which would make this man equal to the most desperate under- 
 takings. Such should have been the commander of the French 
 cuirassiers who charged the living volcanoes of English infantry 
 at Waterloo : such the officer at the head of the " Six Hundred " 
 who rode through the Russian fire at Balaklava. Something 
 told me that, in work like this, the stern and passionate spirit
 
 68 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 under that mask of ice would rejoice — and I lived to see the 
 hour and the man both come. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE STATUE SPEAKS. 
 
 The moment now approached when I must leave this domain 
 of enchantment, and forget all the dreams in which I had in- 
 dulged. My arm was well, and duty called me. 
 
 I went without reluctance, for it was plain now that my suit 
 was hopeless. It is not an agreeable confession, but I am com- 
 pelled to state that Miss May Beverley seemed to care no more 
 for me on the last than on the first day of my visit. I go fur- 
 ther, and say that I think she cared less for me. 
 
 I had kept her handkerchief, picked up on that evening, in- 
 tending to return it when the moment came, with " a few re- 
 marks," such as Ave read in novels. How absurd did this "silly 
 romance" now appear! That pretty little drama quite hung 
 fire, and I thought I saw her laughing instead of blushing ! Now, 
 when a young lady laughs upon such occasions, you might as 
 well pocket your romance, get into the saddle, and wave her 
 "adieu for evermore!" 
 
 That is all excellent advice, and I bestow it upon the reader 
 in the gayest manner to-day. You see the wound has healed : 
 at that time it was bleeding. I jest now, but then I was the 
 prey of anger, disappointment, outraged pride, wounded vanity, 
 and wretchedness generally. Those poisonous distillations of 
 the human heart arc not wholesome, and did not contribute very 
 greatly to my happiness at the time. 
 
 "When one day I announced my intention to set out for the 
 Potomac on the next morning, I found the Colonel and Mrs. 
 Beverley much more deeply impressed by that important state- 
 ment than the young lady ; and indeed it seemed to be a matter 
 of perfect indifference to her whether I stayed or went away. 
 I found myself alone with her that evening on the steps of the
 
 THE STATUE SPEAKS. 69 
 
 portico, and it is impossible to imagine any thing more coolly 
 indifferent than her demeanor. 
 
 Disappointment, anger, mortified pride ! — see an allusion 
 above to the feelings of one of the parties to that interview. 
 
 The moon was shining, and the dreamy splendor lit up the 
 beautiful head 'with the waving hair and the great violet eyes. 
 I had never known May Beverley look so beautiful, but there 
 was an expression upon her face which I had never seen there 
 before. Pride, weariness, and a sort of scornful despair — all 
 were written in those eyes, and upon those lips, in characters 
 that could not be mistaken. I could scarcely extract a word 
 from her : she seemed brooding over something, and from time 
 to time looked furtively toward me, instantly withdrawing her 
 eyes when they met mine. 
 
 " What does all this mean!" I said to myself, with a sort of 
 gloomy surprise. " Mademoiselle seems distraite to-night, and 
 with something on her mind. Well, I'll try and see if I can't 
 arouse her." 
 
 And, suppressing a bitter laugh which rose to my lips, I said: 
 
 ,l This is a charming night! It reminds me of one in Rich* 
 mond not long since — on the Capitol Square, where the musio 
 wus playing." 
 
 She did not seem to hear me, but I saw her face flush and 
 then grow pale. 
 
 "I saw you there that night," I went on; " did I never tell 
 you I saw you ? That day in the storm was not our first meet- 
 ing." 
 
 She turned and looked at me. 
 
 " You saw me !" she said, in a low tone. 
 
 "Certainly! I had that great pleasure; and you don't think 
 it possible that I should forget it?" 
 
 She must have observed my bitterness, for a strange expression 
 came to her face. 
 
 " You were walking with Mr. Baskerville : is that gentleman 
 a friend of yours?" 
 
 A lurid light came to her eyes, and her roses all hided. 
 
 Looking me straight in the eyes, she remained silent for ser-
 
 70 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 eral minutes, and I could see her face in the moonlight flush 
 crimson. Then this was succeeded by a pallor so deadly that I 
 thought she was about to faint; she placed her hand on her 
 heart, and, still looking straight at me, murmured hoarsely : 
 
 "I am engaged to Mr. Baskerville!" 
 
 The blow I had received from that falling limb in the forest 
 was nothing to those words. I gazed at the speaker with an air, 
 I am convinced, of imbecile Wonder, and in vain attempted to 
 utter some reply. She must have seen, or fancied she saw, an 
 expression of scorn upon my pale face, for suddenly her brow 
 flushed again, and she haughtily exclaimed : 
 
 " You seem exceedingly surprised, sir ! Do you find any thing 
 very extraordinary in this announcement? Yes, sir — I repeat 
 that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Baskerville 1" 
 
 What could I reply? There are moments when all language 
 fails, and the very blood seems to stagnate. I remained thus 
 dumb and bewildered, looking at the person who had uttered 
 these words ; and then slowly came the full conviction of my 
 misery — slowly, as the gloomy moon rises, blood-red and men- 
 acing, over some battle-field covered with the dead. This, then, 
 was the end of all my romantic dreams ! — this was the mortal 
 blow which had struck me to the very heart — May Beverley was 
 to marry BasTcerville ! 
 
 As I muttered that name audibly, in a tone of inexpressible 
 scorn, the young lady uttered a hoarse moan, and exclaimed, 
 with cruel sarcasm : 
 
 "One would really suppose, sir, that you did not approve of 
 the match, and were going to refuse your consent to it!" 
 
 Those words revived me, like a bitter tonic. They aroused all 
 my pride, and made me a man again. Suppressing every exhibi- 
 tion of emotion, I said, in a tone as cold and measured as I 
 could assume at the moment : 
 
 " I beg that Miss Beverley will pardon any thing in my manner 
 which is offensive or disagreeable to her. She must be aware 
 that my approval or disapproval of any course she may pursue 
 amounts to nothing whatever ; and I am quite sure that my 
 opinions even are a matter of complete indifference to her. I
 
 THE STATUE SPEAKS. 71 
 
 did fancy, at one time, that there was something like friendship 
 between us; but that, too, is scattered to the winds at this 
 moment. I will not intrude further upon your presence, Miss 
 Beverley." 
 
 And, with bitterness at my heart, I rose and was about to 
 leave her. She retained me with a single movement of her 
 hand — the other was twitching convulsively at the gold chain 
 around her neck. She had turned her head away — she now 
 looked at me, and her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 "Pardon me," she said, in a low voice, " I did not mean to 
 offend you. I have known you but a short time, but I would 
 not willingly forfeit your regard. I am very wretched, sir ! No 
 one seems to care for me. You think me cold, my temper dis- 
 dainful — do not deny it, sir, I have read it in your eyes. I am 
 very proud, sir — I do not value the good opinion of everybody — 
 but I would do much to retain yours." 
 
 She paused : her voice trembled ; but I saw in her eyes the 
 light of a determined resolution. She had evidently made up 
 her mind to pursue some course from which her feelings recoiled. 
 
 "I have informed you of my engagement, sir — do you know 
 why ? I am about to utter words which no woman should speak 
 lightly, without a good reason." 
 
 She stopped again — then her cheeks were covered with blushes, 
 and she said, hurriedly : 
 
 "You are attached to me — I could not avoid seeing it! You 
 are an honorable gentleman, and I should have despised myself 
 forever if I had suffered you to be deceived — to remain in igno- 
 rance of what I have told you ! I have resolved many times to 
 tell you — I had not the courage. Every day I formed that reso- 
 lution — every day it has been broken ! I have tried to discourage 
 you — I have made myself very disagreeable. I have been cold, 
 satirical, even bitter — when I would have given worlds to have 
 appeared in my natural character, and won your friendship ! 
 You know all now — I am very unhappy, sir — but I am a proud 
 person, and I acted honorably, did I not? This avowal is almost 
 killing me, sir ! — but I must go on until I have finished ! It has 
 made me sick at heart to reflect that you regarded me as a young
 
 72 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 lady whose hand was disengaged, when I was the victim of a 
 formal contract. Yes, victim! I say victim!" she exclaimed, 
 in a voice of inexpressible aDguish ; " the victim of a hateful, an 
 intolerable engagement! You shall know all, sir — you must 
 know it ! My father was the friend of Mr. Baskerville 3 s father 
 ■> — he is dead now — and an agreement was made between them 
 that when Mr. Frederick Baskerville and myself grew up, we 
 should be married. He came to see me when he was a child, 
 and continued to do so as he grew older. I was educated in the 
 idea that I was some day to marry him — I admired him as a boy, 
 for his grace and ease of manner — and, when I was but fifteen, 
 engaged myself to him. His father, who was very fond of me, 
 died soon afterward, rejoicing that the marriage would now 
 surely take place ; and my own father, who is the slave of his 
 word, declares that I am doubly bound, first by his promise to 
 his friend who is dead, and again by my word to Mr. Basker- 
 ville!" 
 
 Again she paused; her voice had a cold and desolate intona- 
 tion now, which jarred upon the ear. I pitied her, but at the 
 name of Baskerville all my rage and misery overflowed. 
 
 "You do not speak!" she murmured in a piteous tone, ''per- 
 haps I weary you." 
 
 "Your words tear my heart!" I said. "Why do you utter 
 them? Why not simply say 'Go! I care nothing for you!' 
 Your confidence honors me — but I scarcely understand its ob- 
 ject!" 
 
 "You shall soon understand?" she exclaimed bitteily. "I 
 mean that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Baskerville, and 
 that I cannot bear him ! — that for years past, since I have dis- 
 covered his real character, I have shuddered at that contract ! — 
 that my life is imbittered by the very thought of marrying 
 him ! — and yet nothing I can do or say will change my father's 
 purpose, or prevent him from insisting upon this marriage with 
 a man I actually loathe!" 
 
 It was a wail of despair I listened to — the cry of a broken 
 neart. I forgot my own anguish as I listened to that voice, and 
 would have given all I hoped to possess of fame or wealth or
 
 THE STATUE SPEAKS. 73 
 
 happiness to have drawn the poor girl to me and sheltered hef 
 in my arms. 
 
 Setting my teeth together, I could only mutter : 
 
 "When is this marriage to take place?" 
 
 "When I am twenty-one," she murmured. 
 - "And you will marry that man?" 
 
 "I must." 
 
 The words sounded like a knell. What was there to reply? 
 I looked at her as she held down her head, crying silently. 
 
 " Do you remember that moonlight night in Richmond ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Here is your handkerchief, which I picked up — I return it to 
 you." 
 
 And I placed it in her hand. 
 
 "I saw you for the first time that night — and now that my 
 dream is over — now that you deny me all hope, and have resolved 
 upon this marriage with a man you abhor — I can now tell 
 you calmly, and will tell you that I loved you from that mo- 
 ment ! — that I love you now — as a man loves with his blood and 
 his heart! I did not know your name when I saw you that 
 night — I never expected to meet you again — and yet that day 
 in the storm I opened my eyes to see you bending over me ! I 
 thought that Good Fortune smiled upon me then — but you stead- 
 ily grew colder from that hour. To-day, I know why, and I 
 honor you ! You are a noble girl ! The misery of miseries is, 
 that you are going to marry this man, whom you despise. You 
 are right — he is a poor creature ! — pardon me ! there is some- 
 thing here at my heart that fills me with bitterness — it is the 
 thought that you are to be the wife of that person! That res- 
 olution disarms me — I have no strength to contend against it ! 
 What can I do? Kill him? Would you marry me then? lam 
 conquered — unless you do what you have a right to do before 
 God and man ! — refuse to fulfil that contract ! Will you re- 
 fuse?" 
 
 " I cannot !" came in a low moan from the girl. 
 "Then farewell." 
 
 Both rose at the same moment. Her face was as white aa a 
 4
 
 74 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 sheet, and the hand she gave me as cold as ice. She placed the 
 other over her eyes and retired, without uttering a sound, to her 
 chamber. 
 
 On the next morning she did not appear, and I left "The 
 Oaks " without again seeing her. 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE RUINED CHURCH AND THE STRANGER. 
 
 I entered the great Valley of Virginia through Ashby's Gap, 
 on a May morning which rendered the scene inexpressibly lovely. 
 The Shenandoah glided away beneatli the mottled arms of the 
 huge sycamores upon its banks, with a murmur as soft and 
 sweet as the distant tinkling of silver bells; green fields extended 
 on every side ; and in the west rose the blue ramparts of the 
 Massinutton and Great North Mountains, as beautiful and tran- 
 quil as some happy dream. It was hard to realize that war 
 would ever stamp his red hoof upon this Arcady, all loveliness 
 and repose ; or that the day would come when the threat of a 
 Federal commander would nearly be carried out, that " a crow 
 flying over the region should be obliged to cany his own ra- 
 tions." 
 
 And now as I enter upon new scenes of my memoirs, I beg 
 leave to notify the kindly reader that I shall endeavor hereafter 
 to entertain him with something more interesting than my pri- 
 vate feelings. Why should I inflict upon that amiable personage 
 a long and lachrymose paragraph all about the heavy heart 
 which a friend of his bore away from " The Oaks " — or describe 
 the tragic emotions of that unfortunate individual at the pros- 
 pect of seeing his sweetheart marry his rival ? Alas ! human 
 life is so full of these unlucky affairs, that I think the less we 
 hear of them the better! 
 
 I am therefore obdurately "resolved to be gay," and am reso- 
 lutely determined that, if possible, not a single wail of anguish 
 shall be heard from the hero of these memoirs. Is not life a
 
 THE RUINED CHURCH. 75 
 
 comedy, and the music lively ? Reader mine ! I who write have 
 seen both good and bad fortune in my time ; and it has always 
 seemed best to me to bear the first with a modest, the latter with 
 a courageous heart. 
 
 So we pass away now from those days at "The Oaks." From 
 the mast the long streamers wave farewell to the little bark that 
 glided across our course, and has disappeared. Bon voyage ! fair 
 May Beverley ! May the sea be smooth before you ! You and I 
 go different ways! 
 
 Turning to the right at Berry's Ferry, I passed a mansion pic- 
 turesquely perched upon a hill with a background of woods, 
 around the portico of which, I remember, some young ladies 
 were trailing a sweetbrier rose in full blossom. All this was 
 the very opposite of war — and yet I lived to witness a hot 
 fight upon that very lawn, and to see the spring grass dyed with 
 blood. 
 
 My horses were fresh, and I expected to reach the neighbor- 
 hood of Harper's Ferry before evening, but, when in the vicinity 
 of Charlestown, I found the sky, which had long been threatening, 
 suddenly indicate the approach of a storm. A huge bank of 
 black cloud, against which, from time to time, vivid flashes of 
 lightning shone, like a fiery crack in the dark mass, admonished 
 me of the wetting which awaited me unless I found shelter; and 
 very soon those heavy drops, which are the skirmishers thrown 
 out by an advancing tempest, began to patter on the leaves. 
 
 I looked round for some shelter, but saw no house anywhere. 
 In a clump of trees, however, a few hundred yards from the road, 
 rose the ruins of an old church ; and to this I hastened, dismount- 
 ing and taking refuge within, just as the storm burst. The ruin 
 was almost roofless; but a projection over the altar-place fur- 
 nished some protection from the rain ; and to this spot I hurried. 
 
 All at once I stopped. A man was kneeling there, with his 
 forehead buried in his hands; and at the same moment I heard 
 the neigh of his horse, which was tethered to a bough behind the 
 ruin, and had escaped my notice. 
 
 The falling rain and the rumble of the thunder must have 
 drowned the noise of my approach ; for the kneeling man re-
 
 76 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 mained in the same posture, and perfectly motionless, for at least 
 a quarter of an hour. At the end of that time, the clatter of my 
 eabre, as it accidentally struck against a fallen stone, attracted 
 his attention, and, slowly rising, the stranger turned toward me. 
 
 He was a man apparently about forty years of age, tall, gaunt, 
 and awkward-looking. His beard and mustache, worn tolerably 
 full, were of a reddish brown, inclining to black ; and his eyes 
 were dark, piercing, and with a peculiar glitter in them. The 
 stranger wore a plain gray uniform, entirely without decorations, 
 and his forehead was covered by the rim of a small cadet-cap, 
 pulled low down, with the top trailing forward. 
 
 The expression of the stranger's countenance was mild, benevo- 
 lent, and modest — his smile, as he greeted me with an air of sim- 
 ple courtesy, very winning. 
 
 "I am afraid I interrupted your devotions, sir," I now said, 
 " and I pray you will pardon me." 
 
 "I had finished, or very nearly," was his reply, in a voice of 
 peculiar abruptness, but unmistakable courtesy. " This storm is 
 very violent, sir." 
 
 "And our place of refuge very dilapidated." 
 
 "Yes," he said, smiling; "but there seems great fitness in 
 taking refuge in this holy place." 
 
 " I understand. You mean that the church is the best shelter 
 from the storms of life. I am not a Christian myself, but you 
 will not find me differ with you upon that point, sir." 
 
 " I am truly glad to hear it," was his simple reply, in the same 
 brief voice. " God has prescribed but one refuge, and the chief 
 duty he inculcates is prayer." 
 
 There was something simple and noble in the man's bearing as 
 he spoke ; and his words seemed the most rational and natural 
 in the world — so little of the professional air of the preacher, so 
 to speak, did I discern in them. 
 
 " You belong to the army, sir ?" I now said, glancing at his 
 uniform. 
 
 "Yes, sir," was his reply. 
 
 " May I ask if you have ever served before?" 
 
 "Yes, in Mexico."
 
 THE RUINED CHURCH. 77 
 
 " All ? in the last war ! Then you must have seen some hard 
 fighting?" 
 
 " I was a* Churubusco, Chepultepec, and other battles." 
 
 "You are fortunate in having returned safely," I said. 
 
 " God spared me," was his reply, in the same simple tone. 
 
 His eye wandered as he spoke, and he seemed to be thinking, 
 as the thunder roared above the ruin, of those battles, which 
 had resembled it. 
 
 "I was many times much exposed," he added, "but no man 
 ever dies until his time comes. It was the good pleasure of the 
 Almighty, sir, that I should be spared for another conflict." 
 
 " And you doubtless carry similar convictions into the present 
 contest? I mean the doctrine of predestination." 
 
 " That word is much abused, sir," replied the stranger gravely, 
 "yet it expresses the only rational view of human life. Who 
 can tell when he will die? The bullet which is to strike me 
 down may now be moulded, and I may fall in the first skirmish 
 —or I may pass through a hundred bloody battles untouched. 
 If I am to fall now, I am to fall — if years hence, not until then — 
 if never, never! If Providence has decreed that I shall die in 
 my bed, surely the enemy cannot harm me." 
 
 "You are right, sir," I said, not a little moved by the earnest 
 tones of the speaker. " All rational men believe in the doctrine 
 you assert. But do you entirely discard free will?" 
 
 "No, sir, by no means — I believe in that, just as strongly. 
 But we touch upon the profoundest of all questions. It is better 
 to obey than to question. It is easy to understand the precept, 
 "Love one another," if the doctrines of free will and predestina- 
 tion are difficult!" 
 
 "Love one another!" I said; "that is a curious principle for a 
 soldier to adopt, is it not, sir?" 
 
 "I do not think so." 
 
 " And yet we are at the beginning of a long and bloody war." 
 
 " War is not opposed to the will of God, sir." 
 
 " But it is terribly bloody." 
 
 "So is the surgeon's knife. It is disagreeable, but necessaiT." 
 
 "You, then, regard this war as just and inevitable!"
 
 78 SUERY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I do, sir. I would cheerfully have laid down my life to have 
 prevented it ; but I believe that it could not be avoided." 
 
 "I agree with you. Will it be long? "When will it end?" 
 
 " I know not — nor do I expect to see its end." 
 
 "You expect to fall?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And yet you enter upon it cheerfully?" 
 
 " I try to do my duty — God will take care of the rest." 
 
 As the stranger spoke in his simple and earnest voice, he raised 
 his right hand aloft, looked upward, and, closing his eyes, muk 
 tered some inaudible words which seemed to be a prayer. So 
 singular was this proceeding that I set my companion down for 
 a confirmed eccentric ; and, not wishing to disturb him, went to 
 the dilapidated opening, once serving as a window, and looked 
 out. The clouds were clearing away — the blue began to appear 
 here and there — the storm was over. 
 
 As I turned round, I saw the stranger at my side, with a smile 
 of exquisite sweetness upon his features. At the same moment, 
 a dove, which had made its nest in a crevice of the ruin, winged 
 its way out, uttering a plaintive coo as it disappeared.* 
 
 " We have spoken of the probability of a long and bloody 
 war," said the stranger mildly, " but perhaps we err in our views 
 upon that subject. This dove may be the blessed emblem of 
 peace and sunshine, as when one brought the olive-branch to 
 Noah after the deluge." 
 
 "I hope so," was my reply, with a smile; "but I am afraid 
 that fierce bird the ' Spread-Eagle ' is going to tear our poor little 
 Southern dove, and make us return to the 'great and glorious 
 Union,' sir." 
 
 "There will be much blood shed first," was the response of the 
 stranger. " But I see the rain is over, sir. May I ask what route 
 you take?" 
 
 " I am going to Harper's Ferry." 
 
 " Then we will travel together, as I am riding in the same 
 direction." 
 
 * Colonel Surry stated to me in conversation that this little incident had never es- 
 caped his recollection, and always came back to his miud with a peculiar charm. — Ed.
 
 ON REVIEW. 79 
 
 " Most willingly." 
 
 And we went toward our horses. The stranger walked, I ob- 
 served, with a peculiarly awkward stride, and his seat in the sad- 
 dle, as he joined me, was very ungraceful. But he was evidently 
 a practised rider, if not a very graceful one. 
 
 Conversing as we rode, we passed through the town of Charles- 
 town, and, as night fell, approached Harper's Ferry. My com- 
 panion had informed me that he was returning from "Winchester 
 when the storm arrested him, and he now rode on with the as- 
 sured air of one who was returning to his own quarters. 
 
 The hills around were covered with white tents, which shone 
 like groups of waterfowl in the last rays of day ; and, reaching 
 one of these groups, very plain and unassuming in appearance, 
 the stranger drew rein, and seemed to have reached his journey's 
 end. 
 
 "Will you stay with me to-night, sir?" he said, very courte- 
 ously. " I can offer you a good bed of straw, and soldier's fare." 
 
 " Thanks for your kind offer, but I am looking for the head- 
 quarters of Colonel Jackson," I replied. 
 
 My companion smiled and said : 
 
 "Do you want to see him?" 
 
 " Yes; I am assigned to duty with him as aide-de-camp, sir." 
 
 "Ah ! then you are ?" 
 
 " Captain Surry, of the Virginia forces." 
 
 "And my name is Jackson," was the stranger's smiling reply. 
 " I am glad to make your acquaintance, Captain, and to welcome 
 you to my quarters. I think we shall be very good friends." 
 
 And Colonel Jackson gave me his hand. Such was our first 
 interview. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 ON REVIEW 
 
 In these memoirs, my dear reader, I intend to carefully avoid 
 writing a history of the war. See the histories for that. I aim 
 only at giving you a few pictures and relating some incidents.
 
 80 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Therefore, go to the grave and strictly reliable "official docu- 
 ments" for an account of the situation in May, 1861. I need 
 only say, that at that moment the Federal Government threat- 
 ened Virginia with three great columns — from Wheeling, Wil- 
 liamsport, and Alexandria ; and that the second, commanded by 
 Majer-General Patterson, was about four or five times as great as 
 the little "Army of Observation " at Harper's Ferry. 
 
 But that army was composed of excellent material. All classes 
 were mingled fraternally in its ranks, by the hand of that great 
 leveller called War. Here was the high-spirited boy, raised in 
 his elegant home on the banks of the Shenandoah, and the hardy 
 and athletic mountaineer from beyond the Alleghanies. The 
 pale and slender student lay down side by side with the ruddy 
 soa of the poor farmer, who had dropped the handles of the 
 plough to take up the musket. All were alike in one thing — 
 their eager desire to meet the enemy. 
 
 On the day after my arrival, Colonel Jackson reviewed the 
 troops. As he rode along the line, above which rose the glitter- 
 ing hedge of bayonets, I heard many a smothered laugh at his 
 singular appearance. In fact, the Colonel's odd costume and 
 manners were enough to excite laughter. Fancy a sort of Don 
 Quixote, reader — gaunt, bony, and angular — riding an old, stiff 
 Rosinante, which he pushed into a trot with great difficulty. This 
 figure was clad in a gray coat already growing rusty ; a faded 
 cap resting nearly upon the wearer's nose ; top-boots, huge 
 gauntlets, and a leather stock which propped up his chin and 
 sawed his ears. 
 
 He rode leaning forward, with his knees drawn up, owing to 
 the shortness of his stirrups ; raised his chin in the air in order 
 to look from beneath his cap-rim ; and from time to time moved 
 his head from side to side, above his stiff leather collar, with an 
 air of profound abstraction. Add to this a curious fashion of 
 slapping his right hand against his thigh, and the curt, abrupt 
 " Good!— very good!" which was jerked from his lips when any 
 report was made to him : and there is Colonel T. J. Jackson, of 
 the Virginia forces. 
 
 The young volunteers evidently expected to seo a gallant and
 
 ON REVIEW. 81 
 
 imposing figure, richly clad, and superbly mounted. When this 
 scarecrow appeared, tliey with difficulty restrained their laugh- 
 ter. When the review was over, and the young men were 
 marched back to their quarters, I learned, afterward, that they 
 made themselves exceedingly merry on the subject of their com- 
 manders appearance — not a few, who had been to the Lexington 
 Institute, repeating his former nickname of "Fool Tom Jackson." 
 
 What was the opinion, it may be asked, of his aide-de-camp, 
 who saw him every hour, and had ample opportunity of observ- 
 ing the man ? He did not impress me greatly : and I am obliged 
 to disclaim the deep penetration of that mighty multitude who — 
 long afterward — "always knew what was in Jackson from the 
 first." I thought him matter-of-fact in character, rather dull in 
 conversation, and possessed of only average abilities. He seemed 
 a plodding, eccentric, commonplace martinet. That was the 
 light in which I regarded this immortal. 
 
 If I did not admire his intellect, I, however, very greatly 
 respected his moral character. His life was perfectly blame- 
 less, and he had not a single bad habit. Spirit never passed 
 his lips, and I should as soon have expected the Potomac to 
 flow backward as to have heard him utter an oath. He regu- 
 larly said grace at his simple meals, spread on the lid of a camp- 
 chest, and spent hours daily in religious reading and prayer. He 
 was habitually charitable in his estimates of men, and seldom 
 yielded to any sort of irritability. "Eccentric" he was, in the 
 highest degree — but it was the eccentricity of a man whose 
 thoughts were half the time in heaven. 
 
 Three days after my arrival, he called me into his tent, and 
 began to talk to me about the war. He listened with an air of 
 great modesty and attention to my crude views, and, when I ex- 
 pressed an opinion that Harper's Ferry would not be attacked, 
 replied briefly: 
 
 "I think so too; it will be flanked." 
 
 He remained thoughtful for some moments, and then said : 
 
 " I wish you to carry a message for me to Colonel Stuart, 
 Captain ; you will find him near Martinsburg. Desire him to 
 picket heavily the whole front toward Williamsport, and to ea-
 
 82 
 
 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 tablish relays of couriers to give me intelligence. I should like 
 to hear what his scouts report. Before Patterson crosses I must 
 be ont of this place, ready to fight him on the " — 
 
 Suddenly the speaker paused, and looked keenly at me. 
 
 "Captain," he said, abruptly, "never remember any thing 
 but the message I send. My intentions must be known to no 
 one but myself. If my coat knew my plans, I would take it off 
 and burn it."* 
 
 I saluted, ordered my horse, and in half an hour was on the 
 road to Martinsburg. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I VISIT COLONEL " JEB. STUART." 
 
 Passing rapidly through the beautiful country skirting the 
 banks of the Potomac, I approached the Opequon. 
 
 When in sight of that picturesque stream, with it grassy banks, 
 studded with huge white-armed sycamores, I met a cavalryman, 
 who informed me that Colonel Stuart, with a squadron from his 
 regiment, was at that moment passing through the woods beyond. 
 I hastened to come up with him, and, fording the stream, gal- 
 loped on beneath the boughs of the gay spring forest, which was 
 ringing with the songs of birds. 
 
 Ere long I heard the tramp of hoofs, and a sonorous voice 
 singing one of my favorite songs, " The dew is on the blossom." 
 Five minutes afterward there appeared at a turn of the road, 
 clearly relieved against the green background of the leafy covert, 
 the head of a column of horsemen, in front of whom rode the 
 singer. 
 
 Let me draw his outline. He was a man of twenty-five or 
 thirty, of low stature, athletic figure, and with the air of a born 
 cavalryman. There was no mistaking his arm of the service. 
 He was the cavalier all over. His boot-tops covered the knee ; 
 his brass spurs were models of neatness; his sabre was light, 
 
 * His words.
 
 I VISIT COLONEL "JEB. STUART." 83 
 
 flexible, and "handy;" his gauntlets reached to the elbows. 
 The young cavalier was evidently at home in the saddle, and 
 asked nothing better than " a fight or a frolic." He wore the 
 blue undress uniform coat of the United States Army, gathered 
 at the waist by his sword-belt ; an old brown pair of velveteen 
 pantaloons, rusty from long use, and his bold face was sur- 
 mounted by a Zouave cap, from'which depended a white " have- 
 lock," giving him the appearance of a mediaaval knight with a 
 chain-helmet. Upon that proud head, indeed, a helmet, with its 
 flowing plume, seemed the fittest covering. 
 
 But I have not finished. I am drawing the portrait of one of 
 the immortals, reader, and you can afford to listen to every de- 
 tail. His saddle was a plain " McClellan tree " strapped over a 
 red blanket for saddle-cloth ; behind the cantel was his oil-cloth, 
 containing a single blanket, and on the pommel was a light india- 
 rubber overcoat for stormy days. The chest of his sorrel was 
 decorated with a brilliant yellow breast-cap, a blazing heart in 
 the centre, and the spirited animal champed a strong curb bit, 
 to which was attached a single rein.* 
 
 I did not notice these details when I first saw Stuart that day. 
 I was looking at his face. It was the picture of martial gayety 
 and enjoyment. A lofty and massive forehead, blue eyes as 
 brilliant and piercing as the eagle's, a prominent nose, a huge 
 brown beard, and heavy mustache, whose long ends curled up- 
 ward — there was Stuart's countenance. In that face and form, 
 immense health and physical strength shone. This man, it was 
 plain, could remain whole days and nights in the saddle, never 
 growing weary ; could march all night, fight all day, and then 
 ride a dozen miles and dance until sunrise. • 
 
 Such was the splendid war-machine which I saw beforo 
 me ; such the man who now paused in his song, looked at me 
 keenly out of his clear blue eyes, and gave me the frank military 
 salute with his gauntleted hand. 
 
 * Colonel Surry laughed, and said, when I read this passage: "Don't you think 
 that long description will bore the reader fifty years hence?" My reply was: "The 
 result will be just the contrary. Stuart will then rank with Harry of Navarre and 
 Prince Rupert." Do you doubt that, reader 1
 
 84 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I ^.ltroduced myself, delivered nay message, and rode on with 
 Stuart, who had cordially shaken hands and said : 
 
 " Glad to make your acquaintance, Captain. Come, and ride 
 back to camp with me." 
 
 So we rode on, side by side, Stuart talking carelessly, with the 
 ease and unreserve of the bon comjiagnon, instead of the stiffness 
 of the West-Pointer. 
 
 "Jackson is right,' 1 he said, musing, with an absent air ; and 
 as he spoke he took off his cap, made a salute, apparently to 
 some imaginary personage, and then replaced hia cap. This 
 curious habit I frequently observed in him afterward. 
 
 "The enemy will cross near Williamsport," he added; "I 
 am convinced of that. The pickets are already doubled, Captain, 
 and the relays established. I intend to inspect my pickets along 
 the whole front to-morrow. Will you ride with me? You can 
 then make an exact report of every thing." 
 
 I accepted this invitation, and Stuart then seemed to banish 
 all " official " affairs from his mind. lie turned his head, called 
 out "Sweeny!" and there rode forward from his escort a tall, 
 mild-looking man, of deferential bearing, who carried under his 
 arm an old-fashioned Virginia banjo. 
 
 "Come! strike up, Sweeny," Stuart exclaimed, in a jovial 
 voice. " Here is Captain Surry — give him a specimen of your 
 music." 
 
 Sweeny saluted me with sad and deferential courtesy, and I 
 expected him to play something like a dead march upon his in- 
 strument. Never was any one more mistaken. He struck 
 up that popular song — " O Lord, ladies ! don't you mind Ste- 
 phen!" and if ever the spirit of wild and uproarious mirth 
 spoke from any instrument, it was heard in the notes of Sweeny's 
 banjo. After finishing this gay air, with its burden, " Come 
 back, Stephen! — Stephen, come back! " he played a medleyi 
 with wonderful skill— a comic vis that was irresistible ; and then 
 Stuart, lying back on his horse for laughter, cried : 
 
 " Now give us the ' Old Gray Hoss,' Sweeny !" 
 
 And Sweeny commenced that most celebrated of recitations, 
 which I heard and laughed at a hundred times afterward, but
 
 A MOONLIGHT RIDE WITH STUART. 85 
 
 never without thinking of that gay spring scene — the long line 
 of cavalry winding through the May forest, with Stuart at their 
 head, shouting with laughter as he rode, and joining in the 
 chorus, like an uproarious hoy. 
 
 Sweeny played then, in succession, " O Johnny Booker, help 
 this nigger!" "Sweet Evelina," and "Faded Flowers" — for 
 this great musician could pass from gay to sad, and charm you 
 more with his sentimental songs than he amused you with his 
 comic repertoire. In the choruses Stuart joined — singing in a 
 sonorous voice, with a perfectly correct ear — and thus the caval- 
 cade passed over mile after mile, until, at sunset, we reached 
 Stuart's quarters, near Martinsburg. That individual appeared 
 to me more like some gay knight-errant of the elder-time than 
 a commonplace cavalry officer of the year 18C1-, and I never 
 afterward, through all his arduous career, could rid myself of 
 this idea. I saw him everywhere during his long, hard work, as 
 commander of the cavalry of General Lee's army, and as that 
 great chief's "right hand " — but I could never think of him ex- 
 cept as an ideal personage. He was not so much a soldier of the 
 nineteenth century as a chevalier "from out the old romances." 
 
 Are you weary, my dear reader, of this long description ? I 
 should be sorry to think so ; and I have still some words to add. 
 In these pages Stuart will sjieak often, and perform many things. 
 Here I wish, "once for all," to give you his outline. Then 
 you will know what manner of man it was that spoke the 
 words and struck the great blows. So I linger still in those old 
 days, spent in the Shenandoah Valley, recalling every incident 
 of my brief visit to the afterward celebrated " Jeb. Stuart." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 A MOONLIGHT RIDE WITH STUART. 
 
 Stuart's head-quarters consisted of a single canvas " fly " — that 
 is, the outer covering of a tent — stretched over a horizontal pole. 
 One end of this pole was placed in the crotch of a large oak ;
 
 86 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST, 
 
 the other was supported by uprights, joined at top and tied 
 together — there was the tent. A desk, a chair, a mess-chest, 
 and bed of blankets on some straw — there was the rest. Over- 
 head drooped the boughs of the oak ; in front stretched a grassy 
 meadow, reaching to the "Big Spring;" the horses were pick- 
 eted near, and a small flag rippled in the May breeze. In a 
 wood, near by, was the camp of the regiment. 
 
 Stuart called to his body-servant, a young mulatto, to know 
 if supper was ready, and then directed a company to be detailed, 
 with orders to report to him at once, for picket duty. 
 
 It soon appeared, and not only the officer in command, but 
 every squad, received the most explicit instructions from him. 
 If before I regarded Colonel Stuart as a somewhat boyish indi- 
 vidual, I had now good reason to consider him an excellent 
 cavalry officer. His directions were so plain and concise that a 
 child could understand them — and the manner of the speaker 
 was no longer gay and thoughtless. It was grave, almost im- 
 perious. I can best describe it by saying that it was the manner 
 of a man who intends that his orders shall be obeyed to the 
 very letter, and who will not be trifled with. 
 
 But even with " business " that genius of mirth which seemed 
 to accompany Stuart everywhere was mixed up. He was in- 
 structing, one after another, the sergeants and corporals com- 
 manding squads, when there came up, in his turn, a huge, 
 black-bearded giant, with a voice like the rumble of distant 
 thunder, and the assured air of an old acquaintance of the 
 young Colonel. 
 
 " This is Corporal Hagan, one of my very best soldiers, Cap- 
 tain," said Stuart. 
 
 I saluted the tall corporal ; and, exclaiming deferentially 
 "Captain!" Hagan made me a rigidly military salute in return 
 — two fingers to the cap, body erect, eyes front. 
 
 "Hagan," said Stuart, "you must make your squad pay par- 
 ticular attention to what I have explained." 
 
 " Yes, Colonel," came in tones of low thunder from the heavy 
 beard. 
 
 "I will hold you responsible."
 
 A MOONLIGHT RIDE WITH STUART. 87 
 
 "I intend to be, Colonel." 
 
 " You are an old soldier, Hagan, and know what is expected 
 bf a good picket." 
 
 "I think I do, Colonel — to keep one eye skinned for snakes 
 and the other for bees!" 
 
 And the giant looked as grave as if he had never smiled in 
 his life. 
 
 Stuart uttered a laugh, and said ; 
 
 " "What do you mean by that, Hagan ?" 
 
 The tall corporal assumed an air of the deepest solemnity, 
 and, advancing a step, inclined his head to one side, and put 
 two fingers of his right hand in the palm of his left, with the 
 manner of a man about to explain some great problem. Then, 
 with unmoved solemnity, but a twinkle of the eye and a slight 
 movement of the mustache which indicated lurking fun, Hagan 
 thundered, in low tones : 
 
 " Well, you see, Colonel, you never know which way the 
 inimy will come. Maybe out of the ground," and Hagan 
 pointed to his feet, "maybe down through the air," and the 
 giant pointed, like a great orator, toward the sky. "Now, there's 
 only one way to sarcumvent 'em, Colonel. You must keep one 
 eye skinned for snakes — that is, down on the ground ; and the 
 other skinned for bees — that is, up in the air. You are then 
 bound to know when the inimy is coming, and you can give the 
 alarm!" 
 
 This grave explanation Highly tickled Stuart, who slapped the 
 big corporal on the back in a manner which evidently delighted 
 that worthy. Hagan ordered hie squad to fall in, in a voice of 
 thunder, made his former salute with even deeper solemnity, 
 and then commanding "Forward!" disappeared like a moving 
 mountain.* 
 
 At the same moment the neatly dressed mulatto announced 
 shipper, which was served on the lid of the camp-chest, under the 
 great oak ; it was altogether a gay affair. The sunset lit up the 
 
 * " I think that is Hagan to the very life, and I have romomberod all his expres- 
 sions !" laughed Colonel Surry, as he read me this.
 
 88 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 form of Stuart splendidly, and he exchanged with his excellent 
 adjutant, Captain Tiernan Brien, a hundred jests. 
 
 "This is the hest beverage in the world, Captain," he said, 
 holding up his silver mug; "only give me coffee and candles, 
 and I am satisfied." 
 
 "You drink nothing else?" 
 
 " Only water : when I was a child I made a pledge to my 
 mother that I would never touch liquor, and I never drank a 
 drop in my life." 
 
 "That is certainly uncommon." 
 
 " Well, an officer ought to do his duty up to the hilt ; and he 
 can't do it if he drinks." * 
 
 In fifteen minutes Stuart rose and said . 
 
 " I am going on a little excursion this evening, Captain. Will 
 you ride with me?" 
 
 "At your orders, Colonel — dispose of me." 
 
 "Then, to horse!" 
 
 And calling for Sweeny and his banjo, Stuart proceeded to 
 make a rapid toilet. His heavy boots were exchanged for a 
 lighter pair, ornamented with golden thread ; around his waist 
 he tied a new and elegant sash over his sabre belt ; and then 
 issuing forth — a splendid cavalier, ready for a raid, a charge, or 
 a frolic — with a single bound he was in the saddle. Sweeny fol- 
 lowed us with his banjo. I put spurs to my horse, and we set off 
 at a rapid gallop through the moonlight, I knew not whither. 
 
 Stuart rode as if the wild huntsman were on his track, and 
 sang as he went. We soon left the high road, and, striking into 
 the forest, fled onward beneath the moonlight foliage, my com- 
 panion paying no attention to obstacles, and more than once 
 leaping some fallen tree which obstructed the narrow road. 
 
 "•Give me a gallop by moonlight!" he said, with his gay 
 laughter. "Come, captain, boot to boot! Your horse is a good 
 one, and I am riding 'Skylark,' who never gets tired." 
 
 The gallop became a run; the wood was passed; we followed 
 a road skirting the Opequon-; descended an abrupt hill; forded 
 
 * Theee expressions are all Stuart's, .as I can testify.
 
 A MOONLIGHT RIDE WITH STUART. 89 
 
 the stream near a little mill ; and, passing through a gate which 
 led into some beautiful grounds studded with old century oaks, 
 the finest I had ever seen, ascended a hill, and stopped before a 
 large mansion, on the portico of which a group of ladies and 
 gentlemen were sitting in the moonlight. 
 
 "It is Colonel Stuart!" was the exclamation of the ladies; 
 and in an instant the young officer was shaking hands with 
 everybody ; after which he introduced me as " one of his friends, 
 young, gallant, and not, like himself, married." 
 
 The laughter of Stuart was contagious ; I was received like an 
 old friend; and "Oh! there's Sweeny!" having indicated the 
 general joy at the advent of the banjo, a dance was immediately 
 proposed, and rapturously assented to by the young ladies — a 
 portion of whom had come that afternoon, on a visit, from a 
 neighboring village. 
 
 I have never spent a gayer evening, or enjoyed myself more 
 with new acquaintances. The piano and the banjo made excellent 
 music, and such ardor was thrown into the cotillons, reels, and 
 other dances, that the very portraits on the walls, of old-time 
 people in stiff cravats and piled-up curls, seemed to look on 
 with a smile 
 
 Then commenced Sweeny's performances — his songs, his 
 recitations, and the wonderful solos on his magical instrument. 
 Quiet, sad-looking, with a retiring and repectful demeanor which 
 would have done no discredit to the finest gentleman, he as- 
 sented to every request, without idle excuses; and soon the 
 whole company, but more especially the small boys, were con- 
 vulsed with a sort of ecstasy of enjoyment. The appreciation 
 by those small boys of "The Old Gray Hoss," "Stephen," and 
 the song commencing — 
 
 " If you get there before I do, 
 Oh ! tell 'em I'm a-coming too," 
 
 was immense, unspeakable. They hung around the great musi- 
 cian, watched his every gesture, and evidently regarded him as 
 the most remarkable personage of the epoch. 
 
 Having wound up with a tumultuous, deafening, wonderful
 
 90 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 solo, which made the windows shake, Sweeny bowed and put 
 his banjo under his arm. It was past midnight, and, urging his 
 long ride on the morrow, Stuart rose and bade our kind enter- 
 tainers good-by. 
 
 An hour afterward, I was sleeping by Colonel Stuart's side 
 under his canvas, and dreaming that, the Southern army had 
 advanced to attack the enemy, led by Sweeny, playing his 
 banjo ! 
 
 I assure the reader that faucy has nothing to do with these 
 scenes. The picture to the minutest particulars is a transcript 
 from life, and the words uttered the Colonel's own. 
 
 XXIY. 
 
 JOHN BROWN AND HIS BULL-DOG. 
 
 We were up with the dawn, and before sunrise had break- 
 fasted and were on the way to visit the pickets. 
 
 Passing through Martinsburg, we pushed on toward the Poto- 
 mac, and, ascending the river's bank, inspected the pickets along 
 the entire front, returning only after nightfall. 
 
 This ride through a beautiful country was delightful ; and Stu- 
 art's gay and varied conversation made the hours glide away 
 almost unnoticed. One of his anecdotes — an account of the part 
 he had taken in the capture of John Brown — will be here re- 
 corded. 
 
 "I was in Virginia at that time on furlough," he said, "and, 
 singularly enough, had run over to Washington, when the news 
 of the riot at Harper's Ferry came. I immediately went to the 
 War Department to offer my services, but could not find the 
 Secretary. Some of the employes of the Department were talk- 
 ing, and one of them said, ' I'm going straight to Virginia, to look 
 after my wife and children,' as a negro insurrection was expected; 
 but I thought to myself, ' The best way to defend my wife and 
 children is to go to Harper's Ferry,' and I hurried to the White 
 House, where I found General Lee, then Colonel, Secretary Floyd,
 
 JOHN BROWN AND HIS BULL-DOG. 91 
 
 and President Buchanan. I saw the General for a moment, and 
 told him how anxious I was to go, but he said he did not know 
 that I could. The President then called him and said, ' You will 
 take command of the marines, Colonel, and proceed at once to 
 Harper's Ferry — but act prudently, Colonel.' Lee bowed, and 
 was turning away, when Floyd came after him to the door, and 
 said, 'Give 'em hell, Colonel!' This was the time to prefer my 
 request, so I begged the Secretary to let me go, and, after looking 
 at me for a moment, he said, ' Well, go.' I hurried off, met Col- 
 onel Lee at the cars, and we were soon flying along toward 
 Harper's Ferry. 
 
 " When we arrived, Brown was in the engine-house, with his 
 band and the prisoners he had taken. It was a small house inside 
 the grounds of the arsenal, exactly like an ordinary fire-engine 
 bouse in cities — with large folding doors. The Virginia troops 
 had been deliberating upon the best means of assault, but upon 
 Colonel Lee's arrival he assumed command, and the first step 
 which he took was to send me forward to demand a surrender. 
 I accordingly walked into the enclosure, and approached the 
 engine-house, waving a white handkerchief, and, when I got to 
 the door, called out that I wished to speak with ' Captain Smith.' 
 I forgot to say that, up to this time, Brown had passed as Captain 
 Smith, and I thus addressed him. At my call, he came and 
 opened one fold of the door a little way. Behind it was a heavy 
 rope stretched across — better security than a bar, as it would 
 yield if a battering ram of any sort were used, but not give way. 
 
 " Well, the old fellow appeared at the opening of the door, with 
 a carbine in his hand, and below appeared the head of a big bull 
 dog, who kept snarling at my knee and growling angrily during 
 the whole conversation. As soon as I saw the man, I knew that 
 I had met with him before, and in a moment I remembered him. 
 
 " ' You are Ossawatomie Brown, of Kansas, are you not?' I said. 
 
 " ' He looked at me keenly for a minute from under his grizzly 
 eyebrows, and then said coolly, addressing me by my title : 
 
 " ' Well, they do call me that, sometimes, Lieutenant.' 
 
 " 'I thought I remembered meeting you in Kansas,' was my 
 reply. ' This is a bad business you are in, Captain. The United
 
 92 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 States troops have arrived, and I am sent to demand your sur- 
 render.' 
 
 " ' Upon what terms V he asked coolly ; in fact, he displayed no 
 sort of excitement during the entire interview. 
 
 " ' The terms are that you shall surrender to the officer com- 
 manding the troops, and he will protect you from the crowd, and 
 guarantee you a fair trial.' 
 
 " Brown shook his head. 
 
 " 'I can't surrender on such terms,' he said. ' You must allow 
 me to leave this engine-house with my comrades and the pris- 
 oners, and march across the river to the Maryland side : there I 
 will release the prisoners, and, as soon as this is done, your troops 
 may fire on and pursue us.' 
 
 " I replied that I had no authority to agree to any such arrange- 
 ment, and was ordered to demand his surrender on the terms 
 first proposed. 
 
 " 'Well, Lieutenant,' said the old fellow, ' I see we can't agree. 
 You have the numbers on me, but you know we soldiers are not 
 afraid of death. I would as lief die by a bullet as on the gallows.' 
 
 " 'Is that your final answer, Captain?' I asked. 
 
 " ' Yes.' 
 
 " I then stepped aside, and he closed the door. "When I re 
 ported the result to Colonel Lee, he ordered the marines to at- 
 tack the engine-house, and this was done with a ladder which 
 was used as a battering ram. As they approached, Brown and 
 his men opened fire from the air-holes in the wall, and killed one 
 or two of the men ; but the door soon yielded, and after a short 
 struggle the whole party were captured." 
 
 Such was the narrative related to me by Colonel Stuart, and 
 finished just as we reached head-quarters.* 
 
 * ThiB is given nearly in General Stuart's word*.
 
 THE RAID OF THE BEE-GUM. 93 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE RAID OF THE BEE-GUM. 
 
 I "was about to set out on my return, on the following morning, 
 when an amusing scene, interrupted by a rather comic incident, 
 delayed my journey. 
 
 The men of the regiment had discovered a bee-gum, in the 
 vicinity of the Big Spring — that is to say, a hollow tree in which 
 a swarm of bees had taken up their abode, and stored away the 
 rich proceeds of their raids among the flowers. The hollow tree 
 thus contained a huge mass of honeycomb, and it was not long 
 before it crashed down before the quick blows of the men's axes, 
 and was split open. 
 
 The scene which followed was ludicrous. The jovial troopers 
 crowded round the bee-gum, and, scooping out the rich contents 
 with their hands, eagerly devoured them, smearing their faces 
 with the honey, and laughing like a party of schoolboys let 
 loose on a holiday. 
 
 The noise and confusion were at their height, the '' general joy " 
 unbounded, and the shaggy beards and mustaches of the cavalry 
 men, to say nothing of their hands, were clogged with the 
 liquid honey, when suddenly a horseman appeared on the brow 
 of the neighboring hill, approaching at a furious gallop. 
 
 All heads were raised — all tongues hushed. On came the 
 horseman, making violent gestures, and, as he came within hear- 
 ing, the honey devourers distinguished above the clatter of his 
 horse's hoofs the exciting words, " Look out ! The Yankees are 
 coining !" 
 
 In a moment all was confusion worse confounded. The men 
 abandoned their bee-gum, dropped their honeycomb, and ran to 
 their horses; but, as no attack was expected, all were unsaddled, 
 and they were compelled to seize the equipments with their 
 honey-covered hands, and saddle up in hot haste, without re- 
 moving the yellow liquid from their faces. The quick notes of 
 the bugle sounded " to horse!" and in a moment the regiment
 
 94 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 was drawn up in line, with Stuart in front of them. A mora 
 ludicrous spectacle I never witnessed. Every man's face resenv 
 hied a yellow mask, every mustache dripped, every beard disap- 
 peared in masses of honeycomb. 
 
 Stuart burst into uncontrollable laughter, and when the officer, 
 whom he had hastily ordered to gallop forward and ascertain the 
 truth of the reported advance, returned and announced that it 
 was a false alarm, the young cavalier leaned back in his saddle, 
 and there issued from beneath his heavy mustache a " guffaw " 
 which made the air ring. 
 
 The men were ordered to unsaddle their horses, and were soon 
 securing the remainder of the honey, but all the life and spirit 
 were gone. The laugh was turned on them, and they soon dis- 
 appeared in the direction of their quarters. 
 
 I never heard an explanation of the alarm. Whether it was 
 brought by some excited picket who took " trees moving " for 
 Yankees, or was a practical joke gotten up by some wag of the 
 command, T never learned. It is certain that Stuart enjoyed it 
 too much to make very rigid inquiry, and I never before saw 
 such intense relish for a practical joke displayed by any human 
 being. He often mentioned this incident to me afterward, styl- 
 ing it "The Raid of the Bee-gum," and never without laughter.* 
 
 I soon afterward took leave of my gay host, and set out on my 
 return, promising to visit him again whenever I could do so. I 
 made my report to Colonel Jackson, and when he asked me how 
 I liked Stuart, I declared myself delighted with him. 
 
 Jackson smiled at my enthusiasm. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "Stuart is an excellent companion. He is 
 more : he is a remarkable man." 
 
 * An actual occurrence.
 
 FIRST SIGHT OF THE BLUE-COATS. 95 
 
 XXYI. 
 
 MY FIRST SIGHT OF THE BLUE-COATS. 
 
 In the latter part of May additional troops reached Harper's 
 Ferry, and General Joseph E. Johnston arrived, and assumed 
 command. 
 
 This soldier, since so eminent, was a man of about sixty, with 
 gray hair, piercing eyes, and the stiff carriage of the "West- 
 Pointer. His manner was phlegmatic, his voice grave and for- 
 mal, and he wore his uniform with the air of a man horn in it. 
 
 Johnston vigorously continued the organization which Jackson 
 had commenced. The latter had been assigned to the command 
 of a brigade raised in the Valley. They were entirely Virginia 
 troops ; but the Georgians and South Carolinians, under the 
 brave General Bee, were now mingled with them in the little 
 army. All was life, bustle, and activity : the news came from 
 Bethel about this time, and cheer after cheer indicated the en- 
 thusiasm of the troops. 
 
 Then the words passed from lip to lip in the small army, 
 "Patterson is advancing!" This intelligence was soon con- 
 firmed, and Johnston promptly broke up his camp to go and 
 meet him. The surplus stores were burned, the arsenal de- 
 stroyed, and, setting fire to the fine railroad bridge over the Poto- 
 mac, the Confederate commander fell back toward Charlestown. 
 The spectacle, as I gazed upon it from a hill, was superb. The 
 flames were roaring and crackling, the long bridge a sheet of 
 fire, and the walls of the arsenal fell in one after another. On 
 the right and in front, Loudoun and Maryland Heights, with 
 their huge rocks and shaggy evergreens, were illuminated by the 
 glare of the waving flames. The Shenandoah glowed in the 
 light of the great conflagration; the Potomac was completely 
 hidden by the lurid smoke, and through this murky cloud one of 
 the hottest suns I ever experienced plunged its burning rays. It 
 was the first time I had realized the full meaning of the word 
 War. 
 
 The column fell back through Charlestown, where crowds of
 
 96 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 beautiful girls filled the streets, waving their white handkerchiefs. 
 Bivouacking in the woods just beyond the town, on the next day 
 we moved by the right flank through country roads, and emerged 
 upon the Winchester and Martinsburg turnpike. 
 
 Here the army faced Patterson, advancing toward "Williams- 
 port, and soon it was announced that his column had reached 
 the river. 
 
 Jackson had been sent with his brigade to support Stuart, in 
 advance of Martinsburg, and one morning, at daylight, we 
 received intelligence that Patterson was over, with a large army. 
 
 When this dispatch reached Jackson his face actually glowed. 
 Hitherto I had looked upon him as almost a non-combatant, but 
 from that moment I knew that he loved fighting for its own sake. 
 The gaudium certaminis flamed in his regard. The grave and 
 serious Presbyterian was almost gay. 
 
 A reply was sent to Stuart's dispatch, but, remembering soon 
 afterward an important point which he had omitted, Jackson 
 sent me to find Stuart and give him the message. 
 
 I set out at once, and passed Falling Waters before I could 
 hear any tbing of him. I soon encountered, however, a detach- 
 ment of cavalry falling back before the enemy, whose dark 
 masses — infantry, cavalry, and artillery — were plainly seen in 
 front, and from the officer in command learned that Stuart was 
 moving with his main body on the right flank of the Federal 
 column. 
 
 Taking a bridle path which led in the direction indicated, I 
 soon found him with a squadron, dogging the enemy's move- 
 ments, and gave him my message.. 
 
 " Thank you, Captain," he said, his eyes glowing with ardor ; " 1 
 will do as Colonel Jackson wishes. Remain with me a short 
 while ; I wish to send a message by you. Look at that column ! 
 Their force must be at least two divisions." 
 
 And, leaving his command, Stuart galloped straight toward the 
 Federal column. We approached so close that their words were 
 distinctly audible, and I was endeavoring, as far as possible, to 
 ascertain their force, when Stuart suddenly pointed to a field in 
 our immediate front. I followed the direction of his finger, and
 
 FIRST SIGHT OF THE BLUE-COATS. 97 
 
 saw a company of infantry flankers, who had advanced ahead of 
 the column, and were lying down resting until it came up. 
 
 " I am going to capture that party, and I wish you to help me. 
 Do you see that clump of trees yonder? Bring my squadron 
 round through them — bring it like lightning,* Surry!" 
 
 1 instantly obeyed the order, and moved the squadron at a rapid 
 trot by the route indicated. Then instructing the commanding 
 ofticer where to bring it, I pushed ahead, and rejoined Stuart 
 just as he galloped up to the fence behind which the infantry 
 flankers were lying. 
 
 There was a pair of bars in the fence, and Stuart rode straight 
 up to them, commanding one of the Federal soldiers to "take 
 down those bars!" 
 
 His blue undress coat doubtless deceived the man, though this 
 was certainly no part of his design. The infantry-man touched 
 his hat respectfully, hastened to remove the obstacle, and then, 
 again making the military salute, stood erect, awaiting further 
 orders. 
 
 Stuart passed through the gap with one bound of his horse, 
 and thundered : 
 
 "Throw down your arms, or you are dead!" 
 
 At the same moment his squadron was seen approaching at a 
 gallop, and the whole company — forty-four, if I remember 
 rightly, in number — not only threw down their arms, but fell 
 prone upon their faces.t 
 
 In ten minutes Stuart had hastened away with his prisoners, 
 and I speedily rejoined Colonel Jackson. 
 
 The engagement at Falling Waters followed. 
 
 This brief but spirited affair need not be here described, though 
 its issue had an undoubted effect upon the morale of the troops 
 — discouraging the enemy, and inspiring the Confederates with 
 confidence. 
 
 Jackson met the advancing column with the Fifth Virginia 
 Infantry, and one gun of Captain Pendleton's battery, and, 
 
 ♦This was Stuart's favorite expression in any emergency. 
 
 t General Stuart mentioned this incident to me more than once, and seemed greatly 
 amused by it. 
 5
 
 98 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 deploying his three hundred and eighty men — the exact number—, 
 held his ground for some time with great stubbornness. 
 
 His thin line was, however, forced to fall back to avoid a flanx 
 attack ; and, as a column of Federal cavalry advanced to charge 
 it, the artillery was used for the first time in the action. 
 
 Captain Pendleton, who had been an Episcopal preacher, gave 
 the characteristic order, "Aim low, men, and may the Lord have 
 mercy on their souls!"* — the piece was discharged — and thesho'F 
 struck tbe head of the cavalry column, which recoiled ana 
 retreated behind the infantry again. 
 
 The Federal artillery immediately opened in reply, and for the 
 first time I witnessed in Jackson that perfect coolness for which 
 he was afterward so celebrated. While he was seated beneath 
 a tree, writing a dispatch to General Johnston, a round shot 
 tore the trunk above him to atoms, and covered him with splin- 
 ters. He did not move a muscle, but finished his note with 
 entire coolness — it was hard, indeed, to realize that he had 
 observed the incident. 
 
 He continued steadily falling back, and, rejoining his main 
 body, retreated through Martinsburg, which the enemy pressed 
 on and occupied. 
 
 That night, the brigade bivouacked at "Big Spring," about 
 two miles from the town, on the road to Winchester ; and an 
 odd incident marked the occasion. 
 
 About midnight, the weary troops were disturbed in their 
 slumbers by a dusky figure which moved among them, stumbling 
 over the sleepers. Many an imprecation greeted this unceremo- 
 nious personage ; but, when the men afterward ascertained who 
 the intruder was, their anger gave way to laughter and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 The figure was Jackson's, and his errand was simple. General 
 Patterson had captured some of his tents, made by the young 
 ladies of Jefferson ; and when he stumbled over the sleepers, 
 Jackson was looking for Colonel Allen, of the Second Virginia, 
 to order out his regiment, attack Patterson, and recapture th® 
 tents. 
 
 * His words.
 
 THE ENCHANTMENTS OF BOGY! 99 
 
 What induced him to abandon this scheme I do not know ; but 
 it was a characteristic idea — to attack two divisions with a single 
 regiment !* 
 
 Falling back still farther to the little village of Darkesville, 
 Jackson drew up his brigade, and determined to retreat no far- 
 ther. 
 
 " Here I am ready for Patterson, whenever he comes," he said. 
 " I want my brigade to feel that they can whip his whole army; 
 and I believe they can do it!"* 
 
 Johnston had moved forward from "Winchester to Bunker's Hill. 
 about midway between that place and Martinsburg ; but General 
 Patterson did not advance. 
 
 Events were, however, hastening on — the great struggle about 
 to begin. 
 
 XXYII. 
 
 THE ENCHANTMENTS OP BOGY I 
 
 One morning I went to see Stuart, who held the front with 
 his cavalry toward Martinsburg, and found him lying, as usual, 
 on his red blanket, under a tree, waiting for the enemy. 
 
 He was listening to a report from our friend Corporal Hagan, 
 who, with a beard longer, mustache shaggier, and a voice more 
 closely resembling thunder than before, gave the particulars of 
 the capture of two or three prisoners he had just brought in. 
 
 "We charged 'em, Colonel," continued Hagan, after bestowing 
 upon me a punctilious salute, " and they run like the very old 
 devil was after 'em. I come up with this young man here," 
 pointing to one of the blue-coats, " and I jest grabbed hold of 
 him by the nape of his neck, and says I, ' Young man, the Judg- 
 ment-Day is come, and you are unprepar'd.' He give right up, 
 without making any row ; and I really do believe, Colonel, he 
 thought I was the old devil himself— ha ! ha!" 
 
 * Historical.
 
 100 SURRY OP EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 When Hagan laughed, the ground seemed to shake. His mer- 
 riment was Olympian, and partook of the earthquake. 
 
 " I got his weep-on, Colonel," continued the giant, exhibiting 
 u fine carbine, " and I thought, as I had the dead wood on him, I 
 would go through him, and take his boots. But then I remem- 
 bered that that was ag'inst your orders. Ain't that the truth ? 
 Speak to the Colonel !" thundered Hagan, and he scowled in a 
 truly terrific manner at the prisoner. 
 
 The unfortunate individual confirmed every particular ; and then 
 commanding "About face!" Hagan marched off his prisoners, 
 grave and solemn to the last. 
 
 " Hurrah for Hagan ! He is a character," I said, laughing. 
 
 " True," said Stuart ; " and, if you will ride with me to-day, I 
 will make you acquainted with another." 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 " My dear Surry, a good soldier never asks any questions — 
 come ! I'll show you a real curiosity, and give you an excellent 
 dinner. Do you accept?" 
 
 " Do I accept! — when I have been living on hard bread for a 
 whole week !" 
 
 " Agreed, then. But who is that yonder ?" 
 
 "General Johnston and Colonel Jackson." 
 
 Stuart rose and went to meet them, receiving and returning 
 the salute of the two officers. 
 
 " So we have nearly caught the indefatigable Stuart * nap- 
 ping!" 
 
 Such was General Johnston's greeting, as he shook hands with 
 the commander of his cavalry. 
 
 " Not quite, General ; but I was not expecting an advance on 
 my rear." 
 
 " Well, Colonel, we are going to the front. Will you ride 
 with us ?" 
 
 Stuart replied by getting into the saddle, and the whole party 
 set forward for the front. A complete reconnoissance was made, 
 the ground thoroughly examined, and then, as the sun began to 
 
 * Soe Johnston's report of operations in the Valley.
 
 THE ENCHANTMENTS OF BOGY! 101 
 
 decline, the heads of the horses were turned again toward 
 Darkesville. 
 
 I began now to think of that famous dinner which had been 
 promised me, greatly fearing that the visit of the two command- 
 ers would interfere with it. Stuart solved this interesting prob- 
 lem, however, in the most agreeable manner. He invited them 
 to accompany him, highly extolling the cuisine and the hospitality 
 of his friend — and they accepted. Generals are just like the rest 
 of us, my dear reader: they get hungry. So we set out for the 
 head-quarters of the " real curiosity." 
 
 His name, I soon heard, was Captain Bogy ; and we found the 
 wortby intrenched beside a limpid spring, in a glade of the 
 woods. Horses were picketed near, for Captain Bogy was a cav- 
 alry-man. The canvas cover of a wagon was visible through the 
 bushes ; not far off, a sable individual was seen busily cooking ; 
 and in the foreground, beneath a mighty tree, some planks, 
 stretched across saplings, which rested in turn on forks driven 
 into the ground, formed a rustic table. 
 
 Such were the preparations for the entertainment ; but how 
 shall I describe the host ? Imagine Falstaff in au old cavalry uni- 
 form, his mighty paunch encircled by a sword-belt balf buried 
 from sight ; his legs cased in enormous horseman's boots, with 
 spurs of fabulous proportions, which jingled as he moved. Tbe 
 Captain appeared only about forty -five, but his hair was grizzled 
 and his mustache gray. A lurking smile seemed ever upon his 
 features ; and it was plain that the worthy loved the good things 
 and the good jokes of life better th$n all the glories of arms. 
 
 Bogy greeted his guests with the ease of an old soldier, declar- 
 ing himself much honored by their visit ; and then, as though in 
 matters so serious as eating and drinking there was no time to 
 spend in idle talk or ceremony, he applied himself assiduously to 
 the great work before him. 
 
 His whole soul was evidently in the matter of dinner, and he 
 had secured an able staff-officer in the person of the old negro, 
 who presided at the fire with an air as grave and serious as his 
 master's. From that fire came the soothing music of frying meat 
 and a savory odor invaded the nostrils of the guests.
 
 102 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Soon the golden moment came when all was done to a turn ; 
 and then, directed by Bogy, who was solemn and preoccupied, 
 the dilapidated African staff-officer made his appearance with a 
 pile of plates. My attention was attracted hy them. They were 
 china, snow-white, and richly gilt! 
 
 Had Bogy, then, discarded the military tin-platter, and did he 
 revel habitually in this gorgeous service ? The idea was incredi- 
 ble — but there they were ! 
 
 Tbe white plates were succeeded by shining knives with ivory 
 handles, and then every eye stared — Bogy had silver forks ! 
 
 Gilt plates and silver forks! ! ! 
 
 Bogy was modest, unassuming; he would not observe the gen- 
 eral wonder and admiration. He made some innocent jests ; he 
 coughed slightly, and disappeared in the direction of the wagon. 
 
 What does Bogy return with ? Is it not a brace of bottles ? 
 It is a brace of bottles, with rich labels and green seals. Bogy 
 sets them on the table — all eyes admire ! 
 
 His aid brings him mint and ice from the spring — a glass dish 
 of white sugar from the wonderful wagon; and then behold! a 
 long row of rich cut-glass goblets ! The guests cease to wonder 
 farther ; they gaze in silence at the great magician. 
 
 He responds to that look by another, serene and smiling. He 
 6eems to say, " Have confidence in your host, my friends ; he is 
 equal to the present great occasion!" 
 
 Bogy draws a cork — a rich bouquet of Otard brandy, old and 
 mellow, is inhaled. Some young officers who have joined the 
 company look faint. That odor overcomes their sensitive nerves. 
 Old Otard on the outpost ! 
 
 "With the hand of the master, Bogy mixes his liquids, and be- 
 hold, a long row of cut-glass goblets full of julep, from whose 
 Alpine heights of ice springs the fragrant mint ! As the contents 
 of those bright goblets disappear down the throats of the guests, 
 their eyes close, and Bogy towers before them, the greatest of 
 mortals. 
 
 This is the preface only, however. Bogy now opens the vol- 
 ume. Dinner is ready, and is placed upon the board. At the 
 head is a Virginia ham, which Lucullus might envy ; at the foot
 
 THE ENCHANTMENTS OF BOGY! 103 
 
 a saddle of mutton ; at the sides, chickens, cutlets, and steaks, 
 interspersed with all the esculents of the season ! 
 
 By the side of each plate the sable aid places three wine- 
 glasses, and these are filled with Khine wine, Champagne, and 
 Madeira ! ! ! 
 
 The guests take their seats — they proceed from enchantment 
 to enchantment. The entrees are followed by ice-cream in a 
 silver holder ! Almonds, raisins, English walnuts, olives, and 
 Havana cigars ! ! Coffee with condensed cream, served in small 
 gilt cups, with spoons of solid silver ! ! I 
 
 No allusion,! are made ; we are too well bred. Bogy enjoys 
 his triumph without interruption. He is the model of a host. 
 He gently urges his guests to renewed attacks on the viands. 
 Under his urging they perform wonders. 
 
 Nor does the great master allow the conversation to flag. He 
 keeps the ball in motion, and his anecdotes are so pithy and so 
 richly humorous that every face relaxes into a smile. 
 
 Stuart stimulates and seconds him, laughing loudly as the en- 
 tertainment proceeds. At last it draws to a conclusion, and 
 Stuart raises his coffee-cup. 
 
 "I wish to offer a toast!" says the gay cavalier. 
 
 Captain Bogy looks gratified, modest — he smiles sweetly. It 
 is Falstaff just after dinner. 
 
 "To the health of your friend, who has sent you 'a small 
 box,' Bogy ! The present company honors him, and long may 
 he wave!" 
 
 Bogy bows his head with the air of a girl who is overcome 
 and blushing at a declaration. 
 
 " I will write to him and tell him of your good wishes, Colo- 
 nel. He will then immediately send me another/' 
 
 " In which case everybody will be happy to dine again with 
 you," said Stuart. " But you have omitted one thing." 
 
 "What is that, Colonel?" exclaimed Bogy, with a sudden look 
 of anxiety. 
 
 "To tell us the name of your friend." 
 
 "His name, Colonel?" 
 
 "Yea."
 
 104 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Hum ! 1 really have forgotten it"- 
 
 " Then perhaps I can assist you." 
 
 "You! Colonel?" 
 
 " Shall I try ?" 
 
 Bogy smiled. That smile was evidently a challenge. 
 
 " Well, here goes for a guess, Bogy," said Stuart, laughing. 
 " Your friend's name is Patterson — is it not ? Don't deny it !" 
 
 And he pointed, with a loud laugh, to the wagon in the hushes. 
 Upon the side of the vehicle all now saw a large " U. S." 
 
 Bogy's head slowly drooped ; he swallowed a glass of wine. 
 Then rising to his feet, he spoke as follows : 
 
 " It is impossible, Colonel, to hide any thing from your knowl- 
 edge, and from this moment Bogy don't mean ever to attempt 
 it. That individual now throws himself upon the mercy of the 
 court, and confesses that he really has received all these good 
 things from the individual whose honored name has just been 
 pronounced by my friend upon the right. That wagon was cap- 
 tured in a little raid last night, and its contents were soon found 
 to be varied and extensive. What could Bogy do, gentlemen ? 
 What better use could he put those contents to than to feast his 
 commander and his friends ? That is his plea in bar of sentence — 
 and he appeals to the quality of his brandy in justification! 
 What head-quarters has he rifled and made desolate by this cap- 
 ture? who can tell? — perhaps the mess of General Patterson 
 himself! We have appreciated, however, his selection of wines, 
 and his coffee and cigars have been favorably criticised. I would 
 have wished that his Madeira had been a little older; that his 
 cayenne pepper had been stronger; the pair of boots that I 
 found in the wagon, about four sizes larger. But the great mis- 
 take in life is being too fastidious. It is the place of a soldier to 
 put up with inconveniences, to make the best of his lot, and to 
 suppress all discontent. With these few remarks, Colonel, unac- 
 customed as I am to public speaking, I beg leave to conclude by 
 offering this honorable company : 
 
 "The good health of our friend over the way, who is dining 
 out to-day ! and may he soon send another little present to his 
 comrades!"
 
 THE ENCHANTMENTS OF BOGY! 105 
 
 " He was cursing you awfully when I left him, Captain." 
 
 All started as these words resounded behind us ; and every 
 eye was turned in the direction of the sound. 
 
 There stood a gay youngster of about eighteen or nineteen, 
 tall, handsome, and elegantly dressed. The features of the youth 
 were lit up by a smile, and he sustained the looks levelled at him 
 with a species of joyous pride and insouciance. 
 
 "Why, where did you come from, my young friend?" ex- 
 claimed Bogy ; " you appear to have started from the earth!" 
 
 "I came through the lines, Captain," was the reply of the gay 
 young man, as he saluted with a movement full of graceful free- 
 dom. " I am from Maryland, and yesterday I was at the head- 
 quarters of a Major Somebody in the Yankee army. He was 
 cursing and swearing at the loss of his wagon, and I rather 
 think, Captain, that you have fallen heir to it ! " 
 
 There was so much gay courtesy in the air of the young 
 man, and his face was illuminated by a smile so bright and glad, 
 that I could not help admiring him. 
 
 In reply to our questions, he briefly explained that he had 
 come over to join the Southern army. His name "was Harry 
 Saltoun ; he had many Maryland friends in Stuart's Cavalry. 
 Among others, Captain Brien, who could vouch for his loyalty. 
 
 "Will you have me, Colonel?" he asked, turning to Stuart; 
 " I would rather light under you as a private than have a com- 
 mission!" 
 
 I saw from Stuart's smile that the words had won his heart. 
 
 "All right!" was his gay reply, as he made room for the 
 young man by him. "That's the way I like a soldier to 
 talk!" 
 
 The guests soon rose, and Bogy made a last address. I shall 
 not attempt to record it : what great orator was ever correctly 
 reported ? Imagine Falstaff, my dear reader, doing the honors 
 of his own table, and you will have formed some idea of the re- 
 marks of the great Bogy ! 
 
 When we left him, I think it was the opinion of everybody 
 that his equal, as a host, was not to be found in the whole uni- 
 verse. 
 
 *5
 
 106 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 So we returned to Big Spring, and thence I rode back with 
 "'ackson. 
 The young Marylander had remained with Stuart. 
 
 XXYIII. 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 On the next day, a council of war assembled at General 
 Johnston's head-quarters, near Bunker's Hill. 
 
 An advance of the enemy was expected at any moment. Every 
 thing made such a movement probable. The enemy already had 
 armies in the field when the Confederacy had only detachments ; 
 and news had just arrived of two affairs in which they had struck 
 a heavy blow at the dawning hopes of the South. General Pe- 
 gram had been compelled to surrender at Rich Mountain, and 
 General Garnett was defeated and killed at Carrick's Ford, in 
 Western Virginia — the enemy rode upon the summit of the 
 wave of success. 
 
 They would undoubtedly, now, push forward with their two 
 armies at Washington and in the Valley. Stuart had harassed 
 their foraging parties and pickets incessantly with his three 
 hundred cavalry, and Johnston had faced them in line of battle 
 every day; but it was very plain that, when once their great 
 forces were in motion, every resource of generalship would be 
 needed to oppose their predominance in numbers. Above all, a 
 thorough co-operation must be secured between the column 
 under Johnston and that under Beauregard at Manassas. 
 
 I rode with Colonel Jackson to head-quarters, and waited, 
 conversing with the staff as usual, while the council of war took 
 place. While thus engaged, I was summoned to attend General 
 Johnston. 
 
 I found him seated at a table, surrounded by his chief officers 
 in full uniform, and wearing their sabres. Jackson wa3 quietly 
 examining a map ; Stuart was drumming upon the table, and 
 reflecting.
 
 THE CAVALRY PICKET. 107 
 
 I saluted, and waited to be addressed. 
 
 " Captain," said General Johnston, in his measured voice, " you 
 jre suggested as a competent person to carry an important com- 
 munication to General Beauregard at Manassas, and explain to 
 him the situation of affairs here. Have you a good horse ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " When can you set out?" 
 
 " In half an hour." 
 
 " At daylight will do, but lose no time on the road. Here is 
 the dispatch — it embraces the main points. I depend upon your 
 good sense and judgment to reply accurately to General Beaure- 
 gard's questions." 
 
 I bowed and took the dispatch. 
 
 "Any further instructions, General?" 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 I saluted and withdrew. 
 
 Half an hour afterward Jackson came out and mounted his 
 horse, holding in his hand a large envelope, which evidently 
 covered an *' official document." It seemed to embarrass him, 
 and he said : 
 
 "Captain, will you carry this?" 
 
 I took it, but said: " I may forget and take it to Manassas with 
 me, Colonel, when, in case it is important" — 
 
 " It is not important. You may read it." 
 
 I opened the paper, and glanced at it. It was Jackson's ap- 
 pointment as Brigadier-General. 
 
 He was riding on absently, in deep thought. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE CAVALRY PICKET. 
 
 At daylight I was in the saddle and on the road to Manassas. 
 My horse was fresh, the weather fine ; and, passing to the left of 
 Millwood, I forded the Shenandoah, and rode rapidly through 
 Ashby's Gap.
 
 '108 SURRY OF E AG-LE 'S-NEST. 
 
 At Paris, a little village perched on the eastern slope of the 
 mountain, I looked toward the south. Two or three hours, at 
 the farthest, would take me to "The Oaks!" and, as the thought 
 occurred to me, something like a thrill passed through me. 
 Then, as the novelists say, any one who had been present " might 
 have seen" a bitter smile distort my lip. Why should I go there 
 to covet my neighbor's wife, and groan for the amusement of the 
 future Mrs. Baskermlle. 
 
 I pushed on. Soon the bitterness disappeared from my heart. 
 "Poor thing !" I muttered — that was all. 
 
 Passing successively through Upperville, Middleburg, and 
 Aldie, I turned, late in the afternoon, into a road leading by way 
 of Sudley Ford to Manassas. 
 
 Darkness gradually descended, and I had seen no human being 
 for more than an hour, when, as I approached Bull Run, I sud- 
 denly heard the quick " Halt!" of a picket. 
 
 "Friend!" was my reply; and "Advance friend, and give the 
 countersign!" came back. 
 
 "I have no countersign," I responded, fording the stream as I 
 spoke. " I am carrying a dispatch to General Beauregard, and 
 am your prisoner. "Where is your officer?" 
 
 The carbine of the cavalry-man was lowered at these words, 
 and, calling a comrade, he announced who I was. I was then 
 conducted forward, and soon descried, through the boughs, the 
 glimmer of a light, which issued from a camp-fire in front of a 
 small tent. 
 
 At ten paces from the tent, as I approached, I saw a dark figure 
 about to mount a powerful horse in the shadow of the trees. 
 
 "Here is a prisoner, Captain," said my escort, saluting. 
 
 "Bring him up," was the reply, in a deep voice which I re* 
 cognized. 
 
 And, turning round, the person about to mount approached 
 the fire. 
 
 The light fell on his features, and I saw before me the dark 
 face and powerful form of Mordaunt.
 
 THE STONE HOUSE AT MANASSAS. 109 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE STONE HOUSE AT MANASSAS. 
 
 He met me with a cordiality which really surprised me. Hia 
 face was gloomy still, and his voice as deep and measured ; but 
 the weary air of the recluse had yielded to the martial ardor of 
 the soldier. 
 
 At the door of the tent stood the young Moor, Achmed, who 
 evidently filled something like the position of a confidential body- 
 servant near my host. At sight of me, the young Moor saluted 
 courteously ; and then, at a sign from Mordaunt, busily set about 
 preparing some supper for me. This was set out upon a camp- 
 chest, by a negro, under the Moor's orders — and soon I tasted 
 once more that bitter black coffee, which revived my weary frame 
 like some elixir vitm. 
 
 As I supped, Mordaunt conversed ; and I had soon put him in 
 possession of the situation in the Valley. In return he explained 
 the state of affairs at Manassas, and informed me, in brief words, 
 that he had been with General Beauregard since May. 
 
 As he spoke I could see more than ever the change in him. 
 He evidently enjoyed the life of the bivouac far more than that 
 of the library. His gloomy air of languor and cynical disdain had 
 disappeared; and, although his melancholy seemed too deeply 
 rooted to be eradicated, he was altogether a different individual. 
 As I listened to his sonorous voice, and looked at his large and 
 muscular frame, I was confirmed in my former conviction, that 
 action and not meditation was the forte of this powerful organ- 
 ization. 
 
 When I had finished my supper, and my horse had ground 
 between his teeth the last handful of a plentiful supply of corn, I 
 rose and informed Mordaunt that I must go on to General Beau- 
 regard. 
 
 "I will ride with you a portion of the way," was his reply. 
 "I was just going on my rounds to inspect the pickets, but I 
 will sbow you your road, and take my ride when I roturn."
 
 110 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I accepted this friendly offer, and, mounting our horses, we 
 soon reached Sudley Ford, where Mordaunt passed me through 
 his interior picket. "We then rode on through the darkness, which 
 had become intense. 
 
 "I never saw a blacker night in all my life," I said. 
 
 "It is dark enough," replied my companion, "but I know the 
 road." 
 
 "Is this country familiar to you?" 
 
 "Naturally, as I have been picketing it." 
 
 " But you never were here before the breaking out of the 
 war ?" 
 
 My companion did not reply for a moment. He then said : 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 There was a sudden gloom in his tone as he uttered this mono- 
 syllable, which I could not avoid observing. 
 
 "Then we can't lose our way," I replied, as we rode on. I 
 am fortunate in having you to show me the road, as I really can- 
 not see my hand before me. What a country ! I don't see any 
 eigns of an inhabitant. Are there any houses near us?" 
 
 " There is one not far off," was Mordaunt's gloomy reply, " but 
 it is not occupied." 
 
 "A deserted house — ah!" I said, with a laugh. ""Well, that 
 is exactly in keeping with the funereal landscape. One would 
 really say that this country was intended for some bloody battle- 
 field — to become the scene of suffering and death ! It is as 
 lugubrious as the grave, and your deserted house must re- 
 semble a spectre. Come, relate some ghostly story connected 
 with the place, and the influence of the landscape will be com- 
 plete." 
 
 Mordaunt did not seem to participate, in any degree, in my 
 merriment. For some moments he preserved silence, and when 
 he spoke his voice was as gloomy as death itself. 
 
 " I have no story to tell," was his brief response ; but this only 
 piqued my curiosity. 
 
 "Come, acknowledge," I said, laughing, "that there is some 
 mysterious and tragic affair in your memory ! Confess that thia 
 spectral mansion you refer to was the scene of it — and that no
 
 THE STONE HOUSE AT MANASSAS. Ill 
 
 human being can be induced again to set foot inside of its ac- 
 cursed walls !" 
 
 " You are right, sir," said Mordaunt, suddenly, in tones as cold 
 as ice, "the place is accursed! — trebly accursed!" 
 
 So abrupt was his reply, and his accents were so filled with 
 gloomy menace, that I started in spite of myself. Before I could 
 make any reply, he seemed to have realized his indiscretion, and, 
 uttering a harsh laugh, added coolly : 
 
 " You see, I partake of your superstitious feelings. I agree with 
 you, that these 'haunted houses,' as they are called by children, 
 produce a singular effect upon the imagination — you see that this 
 one has had that effect upon me." 
 
 He spoke with perfect coolness, but his nonchalance did not 
 deceive me. His exclamation had been far too gloomy to be at- 
 tributable to any mere sentiment such as he described. His reply 
 was an evasion — I was sure of that — his former speech the out- 
 burst of some hidden tragedy. 
 
 "We rode on, however, without further reference to the topic, 
 and soon I saw before me a dark object, which was doubtless the 
 house in question. It was a gloomy-looking building, of dark 
 stone, near the intersection of the Warrenton and Sudley-Brents- 
 ville roads, and in the very heart of the subsequent battle. Thou- 
 sands of my readers will, no doubt, remember it as the "Old 
 Stone House at Manassas." 
 
 " That is your spectral mansion, I suppose," was my comment. 
 " "Well, you did not exaggerate in describing it as looking accursed. 
 The very owls seem to have deserted it!" 
 
 "Yes," came briefly from my companion. Then he suddenly 
 checked his horse, and said, in a low tone : 
 
 "That is strange!" 
 
 "What?" I said. 
 
 "I see a light yonder !" 
 
 I looked, and, in fact, a light was seen glimmering through 
 what seemed to be a window or doorway in the house. 
 
 "That is singular," I said, "as you say the place is not occu- 
 pied ; but doubtless some straggling soldiers have made their den 
 there."
 
 112 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 "It is probable." 
 
 But the low tones appeared to say, "It is not probable." 
 
 As Mordaunt spoke, the light moved, disappeared for an in- 
 stant, and then reappeared, moving along the ground in rear of 
 the house. Some one seemed to be carrying a lantern. 
 
 My companion remained motionless for some moments, gazing 
 at this weird will-o'-the-wisp : then he touched his horse with 
 the spur, and rode straight toward the house. 
 
 " "We have stumbled upon something very much like an ad- 
 venture," he said, with a harsh laugh. " Come ! it is very little 
 out of our way — let us ride by, and see what is going on !" 
 
 I followed without a word, and we rode on through a field in 
 the direction of the house. It looked inexpressibly dreary, as 
 the gloomy gable loomed out indistinctly against the dark back- 
 ground of the sky. It was ink upon ink: the gloomy thing 
 seemed to rise up before the eyes like some monstrous animal ; to 
 approach and weigh upon the chest. 
 
 Fifty yards from the sombre mansion, a thick hedge of Osage 
 orange arrested us. Through this, however, the light was still 
 seen to glimmer — stationary now upon the ground — and I could 
 make out, around it, a desolate and weed-encumbered garden, 
 containing only a few stunted fruit-trees. 
 
 Under one of these trees stood a man and a woman. In the 
 shadow of the tree, a third figure, apparently that of a female, 
 was dimly visible. On the ground was a coffin beside a newly- 
 dug grave. 
 
 Mordaunt did not utter a word, but I heard his low breathing 
 at my ear. 
 
 " Look !" I muttered in a whisper. " I told you this spot had 
 something ghostly about it. They are burying a dead body!" 
 
 My companion did not reply, but a ray from tbe light fell upon 
 his face, and its expression was startling. I never saw a deeper 
 pallor on the human countenance ; and his singular expression 
 of stupefied surprise astonished me. What connection could 
 Mordaunt have with this scene, and why did it move him so? I 
 thought my eyes must have deceived me ; but the next moment 
 served to explain a part of the mystery.
 
 THE STONE HOUSE AT MANASSAS. 113 
 
 The man at the grave turned round, and the light fell upon 
 his face. I recognized Fenwick — and at the same instant made 
 out the face of his companion. It was the woman Parkins. 
 The third figure I could not see, as the shadow of the tree-trunk 
 concealed it. 
 
 Mordaunt laid his hand on my arm, and said, in a low, set tone, 
 as cold as ice : 
 
 " You recognize that man, do you not?" 
 
 " Certainly. It is Fenwick." 
 
 "And that woman" — 
 
 " I know her too." 
 
 "It is well," said Mordaunt, through his clinched teeth. 
 "What devil's errand they have come upon, I do not know, or 
 why they should be here burying any one — but I know that 
 the hour I have long looked for has come." 
 
 There was a concentrated hate in the low tones of his voice, 
 which made further words unnecessary. 
 
 "Let us wait," he added, coolly, " and see the comedy out." 
 
 And, leaning forward on his horse's neck, he seemed to de- 
 vour with his eyes the movements of the figures in the gar- 
 den. 
 
 Fenwick had, meanwhile, hung the lantern on a bough of the 
 stunted tree under which the grave had been dug ; and now, 
 with the assistance of the woman Parkins, inserted ropes be- 
 neath the coffin. Without further delay, or any burial service, 
 it was lowered into the grave, and Fenwick seized a spade lying 
 near. A harsh and grating sound was then heard — it was the 
 dirt falling on the coffin. Fenwick worked with great energy 
 and rapidity, and the grave was soon filled. Throwing the last 
 spadeful on the hillock, he wiped his forehead, exchanged some 
 hurried words, apparently with the woman Parkins, and, taking 
 down the lantern, proceeded with rapid steps, followed by his 
 two companions, toward the house. 
 
 I was leaning close beside Mordaunt, and could see his face. 
 It was paler even than before, and there was a deadly meaning 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Well," I said, gloomy in spite of myself at this nocturnal
 
 114 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 adventure, " we have seen the play through. What is the after- 
 piece ?" 
 
 " Follow me, and you will see," said my companion. Ashe 
 spoke, I heard the click of his pistol as he tried the barrel. His 
 voice was so cold and steady that the hand must be equally so. 
 " This time, Fen wick is a dead man," I thought. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 "WHAT TOOK PLACE AT THE STONE HOUSE. 
 
 Laying his hand upon my arm, Mordaunt drew me away 
 from the hedge, and, moving carefully over the turf, which muf- 
 fled the sound of the horses' hoofs, made a detour, reaching 
 thus the front of the house. Before it stood a light one-horse 
 wagon, which had, doubtless, served to convey the dead body : 
 beyond this, a riding horse was standing beneath a tree. 
 
 " Listen," said Mordaunt, in a whisper. " I know this house 
 and the grounds perfectly. There is no means of exit from that 
 garden, except a small gate close against the gable end of the 
 house. Do me the favor to take your place there, and allow no 
 one to pass." 
 
 " You are going into the house?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " To find Fenwick ?" 
 
 " Ah ! you have guessed that ?" 
 
 "It don't require much penetration. But take care." 
 
 " Of what ?" 
 
 "He is a treacherous animal — there may be many persons in. 
 that den." 
 
 " It is nothing." 
 
 "If so, call me promptly." 
 
 " Thanks — but it is not ten men, or one hundred, that can 
 keep me from driving my sword's point through that man's 
 heart." 
 
 This rapid dialogue had taken place in a low tone, and Mor-
 
 SCENES AT THE STONE HOUSE. 115 
 
 daunt had quickly dismounted, throwing his bridle over the 
 fence. I imitated him, and ran to the gate, just as the interior 
 of the house was illuminated, and the sound of footsteps upon 
 the creaking floor indicated that the party had entered by the 
 door in the rear. 
 
 A rapid inspection told me that the side gate was securely 
 fastened, and, finding it unnecessary to guard it, I hastened to 
 follow Mordaunt, who had rushed into the house. 
 
 The scene which greeted me was long engraved upon my 
 memory. The apartment was bare, desolate-looking, and re- 
 pulsive. The window-panes were broken, the fireplace full 
 of soot and ashes, and the walls were festooned with cob- 
 webs. Tbese details I made out by the light of the lantern, 
 which had been placed upon a dilapidated pine table, sole fur- 
 niture of the mansion. By the fireplace stood the woman 
 Parkins, grim and lowering, with contracted brows, and still 
 holding the spade which she had brought into the house* 
 Opposite Mordaunt I saw Fenwick, pale and desperate; and, as 
 I entered the doorway, his hand clutched and drew a revolver 
 from his belt. 
 
 What followed did not occupy thirty seconds. 
 
 Mordaunt rushed upon his adversary, Fenwick's pistol was 
 raised and discharged, the ball whistling past my head — when 
 suddenly, before he could fire a second time, the form of a 
 woman interposed itself between the combatants. 
 
 It was Violet Grafton, with . the same golden ringlets, the 
 same delicate, earnest face, and the same wonderful likeness to 
 the portrait in Mordaunt's study. 
 
 The effect which her appearance produced upon him was ter- 
 rible. He recoiled, as though he had seen a ghost, his sword's 
 point fell with a clattering sound to the floor, and, with his eyes 
 glaring upon the young lady, he turned so ghastly pale that I 
 thought he was going to faint. 
 
 From this stupor, however, he was aroused in a manner 
 equally sudden and disagreeable. 
 
 Disappointed in his first aim, Fenwick had deliberately raised 
 his pistol, aimed at Mordaunt's heart, arid fired. The result
 
 116 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 would have been fatal but for Miss Grafton. She struck up the 
 weapon as it was discharged ; the bullet buried itself in the 
 wall ; and in an instant Mordaunt would have driven his sword 
 through his adversary's breast, when all at once the whole scene 
 was plunged in darkness. 
 
 Fenwick, by a quick movement, had extinguished the light ; 
 his figure was seen for an instant as it passed through the open 
 window ; and a moment afterward the hoof-strokes of a horse 
 departing at full gallop were heard upon the ground without. 
 
 With one powerful bound Mordaunt passed through the door- 
 way, threw himself upon his horse, and followed the retreating 
 horseman with the fury of a tiger despoiled of his prey. 
 
 I was close upon the heels of his flying animal — for an irre- 
 sistible desire mastered me to be present at the execution of his 
 vengeance. 
 
 " Do you hear him?" I said. 
 
 "I think so," was the hoarse reply. 
 
 And the speaker continued his headlong pursuit. 
 
 We went on at a furious speed for more than half an hour — 
 then all sounds in front had ceased. Fenwick seemed to have 
 vanished. Taking some by-road known only to himself, he had 
 escaped. 
 
 A mile further, Mordaunt uttered something like the growl of 
 a wounded lion, and drew rein. For some moments he listened 
 — then he said through his clinched teeth : 
 
 " He has got off! The devil takes care of his own !" 
 
 And I heard his teeth grinding together as he spoke. 
 
 Without further words, he turned the head of his horse, and 
 we rode slowly back. On the way, Mordaunt did not utter a 
 single word, and I did not intrude upon his thoughts. 
 
 Soon the gloomy Stone House again appeared before us, and 
 we rode toward it. No light was visible now, and the wagon, we 
 found, had also disappeared. Miss Grafton and her companion 
 had vanished like Fenwick. The Stone House resembled a gigan- 
 tic tomb — and was as dreary, mournful, and deserted.
 
 BEAUREGARD. 117 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 BEAUREGARD. 
 
 I had scarcely come to realize that Miss Grafton had disap- 
 peared, when my attention was attracted hy the noise of horses' 
 hoofs coming from the direction of Stonebridge. 
 
 "Ilalt! who goes there?" was Mordaunt's quick summons. 
 
 "Friends," said a firm and sonorous voice. "What picket is 
 this ?" 
 
 "It is General Beauregard," Mordaunt said to me, and he 
 added : 
 
 " Advance, General — I am Captain Mordaunt." 
 
 "Ah! an amateur picket?" said General Beauregard, riding 
 up, followed by a staff officer and an orderly. "I have been the 
 rounds, and am glad to find you on the qui vive, Captain — but 
 that you always are. I wish the infantry were as vigilant. The 
 picket at Stonebridge has actually allowed a wagon with two 
 women to pass to-night toward Alexandria, contrary to all my 
 orders." 
 
 Then Miss Grafton and her companion had gone in that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 After a few words more, Mordaunt presented mo to General 
 Beauregard, and, declaring that he must return to inspect his 
 pickets, took leave of us. In a moment he had disappeared, and 
 I turned to General Beauregard, who had greeted me with grave 
 courtesy. 
 
 " I have a dispatch, General." 
 
 And I handed it to him. 
 
 " Thank you. Captain ; I will read it at once." 
 
 And, making a sign to his orderly, he soon had a light. As the 
 wind was near putting it out, he dismounted and entered the 
 deserted house, where, leaning against the old table, he read 
 General Johnston's note. 
 
 As he did so, I looked with much interest at the "Man of 
 Sumter." His appearance was decidedly French, and realized
 
 118 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 my conception of Napoleon's marshals. He was apparently 
 about forty-five or fifty years of age ; of medium height; gaunt, 
 square built, and wearing the blue dress-coat of the United States 
 Army, buttoned to the chin, on each side of which rose the points 
 of a stiff white collar. The forehead, half covered by a Zouave 
 cap, was broad, with thin, dark hair at the temples ; the com- 
 plexion sallow and brunette ; the eyes large, black, and thought- 
 ful ; the thin lips nearly concealed by a heavy black mustache. 
 The powerful jaw indicated hard " fight " in its possessor, and 
 in the slumberous eye I read something of the dormant fire of 
 the bloodhound. 
 
 The face was wholly un-Virginian — rather a Creole, tropical 
 countenance ; but there was a noble simplicity in its expression, 
 and a vigor in the poise of the head which made a strong im- 
 pression upon me. A single glance told me that this man pos- 
 sessed military genius. 
 
 " I have read the dispatch you were good enough to bring, 
 Captain," said the General, issuing forth and mounting his horse, 
 " and I will be glad if you will be my guest for a day or two. I 
 wish both to ask you a great many questions, and to ride over 
 and show you the ground here. It is desirable that General 
 Johnston should have an officer near him who has examined it — 
 as you doubtless understand." 
 
 I bowed ; assured the General that I was entirely at his or- 
 ders ; and rode back with him to Manassas, where he had hi3 
 head-quarters in a small farm-house. 
 
 An hour afterward T was shown to an apartment containing 
 a comfortable pallet ; but the singular events which I had wit- 
 nessed at the Stone House kept me awake until long past mid^ 
 night. Finally I sank to sleep.
 
 THE LINES. 119 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE LINES. 
 
 On the next morning I had just risen from my straw pallet 
 when General Beauregard entered and saluted me with grave 
 courtesy. 
 
 " I will he glad if you will ride with me this morning, Cap- 
 tain," he said, "and I will explain the position of affairs here." 
 
 I bowed, and informed the General that I was at his orders. 
 After a plain breakfast, we mounted and set out for a ride along 
 the entire lines. 
 
 General Beauregard had taken up a strong position along Bull 
 Bun, a small watercourse, with thickly wooded banks, running 
 around Manassas, and emptying into the Occoquan. Three miles 
 in front was Centreville ; three miles in rear, Manassas. From 
 Union Mills, the extreme right of the line, to Stonebridge, the 
 extreme left, was about seven or eight miles. Mitchell's Ford, 
 on the main road from Manassas to Centreville, was the Confed- 
 erate centre. 
 
 "The enemy will attack here first," said General Beauregard; 
 "but I have the advantage of position. If they strike with their 
 main body at either flank, it will lay them open to an attack in 
 return." 
 
 "We passed on, following the earthworks along the high banks 
 of the stream. The position appeared impregnable — the troops 
 defending it, in excellent spirits. In front of Stonebridge a 
 heavy abatis of felled trees, commanded by artillery, defended 
 the approach by the Warrenton road. 
 
 Passing near the afterward celebrated Henry House, General 
 Beauregard said that, if the enemy succeeded in crossing on tha 
 left, the battle would be there. 
 
 " The battle of Bull Run," he said in a low tone, as if to him- 
 aolf. 
 
 " That is rather an unclassic name, General." 
 
 "It is as good as 'The Cowpens,' Caplain." * 
 
 * His words.
 
 120 SUEKY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 And the white teeth shone under the black mustache. 
 
 After a long ride, in which General Beauregard pointed out 
 every detail of the ground, we rode back to head-quarters, where 
 a good supper awaited us. On the next morning the ride was 
 repeated, and this time Ave visited Fairfax Court-House, where 
 General Bonham was in command of the advance force. 
 
 "The enemy are about to move," said General Beauregard on 
 the way back. " Now is the time for General Johnston to put 
 himself in motion." 
 
 " At your orders, General." 
 
 '•Do not go until the morning. I wish to send the last news 
 from the front." 
 
 I was aroused at three in the morning by an orderly, who said : 
 
 " Captain, General Beauregard would like to see you." 
 
 In a moment I had buckled on my sword and was in the pres- 
 ence of the General. 
 
 XXXIY. 
 
 THE HEROINE OF MANASSAS. 
 
 The first person I saw was Mordaunt. That iron calmness 
 which habitually characterized his dark features was unchanged, 
 but I could see black marks under his eyes, and his pallor was 
 frightful. 
 
 As I afterward ascertained, he had brought General Beaure- 
 gard a detailed statement of the numbers and composition of 
 the Federal forces, which one of his scouts had arrived with, 
 an hour before. The same scout had brought the additional in- 
 telligence that the enemy had begun their advance. 
 
 General Beauregard had not slept, having been up all night 
 receiving reports and sending orders. His face was sallower 
 than ever, but his black eyes were undimmed. 
 
 He handed me a paper in an envelope, and said : 
 
 " I will be glad, Captain, if you will immediately return to 
 General Johnston with this dispatch, and inform him that the 
 enemy's column is in motion to attack me."
 
 THE HEROINE OF MANASSAS. 121 
 
 I bowed, and waited to hear any thing further. 
 
 " That is all, Captain — except that you can tell General John- 
 ston that, if he wishes to help me, now is the time."* 
 
 I was leaving the apartment when the voice of the General 
 arrested me. 
 
 " Upon reflection, you had better remain until daylight. I ex- 
 pect to hear from the front soon, and you can carry the last 
 intelligence. 
 
 As he spoke, an orderly entered, and said : 
 
 " Here is a prisoner, General — a woman." 
 
 " From whom ? 
 
 "General Ewell, sir." 
 
 " I will see her at once." 
 
 The door opened, and suddenly I saw Mordaunt's eye flash. I 
 turned quickly, and looked toward the door. On the threshold 
 stood the prisoner. It was Yiolet Grafton. 
 
 She wore a long dark riding-skirt, and in her right hand 
 carried a small whip. Her manner was perfectly composed — 
 two red spots burning in the centre of her cheeks, otherwise 
 pale from fatigue and want of sleep, were the only evidences of 
 emotion which she exhibited. 
 
 The General rose, and gravely saluted her. 
 
 " Are you the prisoner mentioned, madam?" 
 
 "I suppose so, sir," was her reply, in the calm sweet voice I 
 knew so well. 
 
 "General Ewell sent you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Suddenly, as she looked around the apartment, the young 
 lady's- eyes encountered my own. She made a step forward, 
 and, holding out her hand with that inexpressible grace and 
 frankness which characterized her, said : 
 
 "Captain Surry, I am very glad you are here! They insist 
 upon regarding me as a spy and a prisoner, when I have ridden 
 until my strength is broken down to bring important news. If 
 this is General Beauregard, tell him that you know me, and that 
 I am worthy of credit. It is hard, after all my trouble and ex- 
 
 * His word*. 
 6
 
 122 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 posure — a girl riding by herself at night through an army — it is 
 very hard to be considered a spy." 
 
 A few words from myself at once placed the young lady in 
 her proper light, and she made her statement. It was important. 
 
 She had passed through the Confederate lines a day or two 
 before, she said, on her way to Alexandria, when, on reaching 
 Annandale, she and her travelling companion received the intel- 
 ligence that the enemy were advancing. Before they could 
 leave the place, the Federal column had entered it, and the 
 house at which Miss Grafton had stopped was taken as the head- 
 quarters of one of the Generals, whose division encamped in 
 the adjoining fields. The Federal General seated himself, with- 
 out ceremony, at breakfast with the family, and indulged in 
 many jests at the expense of General Beauregard and the Con- 
 federates. " They knew all about his lines on Bull Run," said 
 the Federal officer ; " they had no intention of attacking the 
 centre, opposite Manassas — nor the right. The attack would be 
 against the left of the rebel line above Stonebridge, and they 
 would be run out of their holes before they knew it." Miss 
 Grafton had listened attentively to all this, not, however, with- 
 out some expression of disdain upon her countenance. The 
 Federal officer now added that he was supplied with a number 
 of Confederate flags, which he intended to make use of to de- 
 ceive the rebels ; and Miss Grafton asked, if he was not afraid 
 to speak so freely before . every one. " Pshaw !" was his laugh- 
 ing reply, " you can't get through our lines. Before you could 
 arrive, even if you did, we'll have the rebels in full retreat on 
 Richmond." Ten minutes afterward, an order came for the 
 division to march ; it moved on — and Miss Grafton hastened to 
 present herself before General McDowell in person. She in- 
 formed him that the advance had caught her at Annandale, and 
 asked for a pass to return to her friends in the country near. 
 This was granted— she rode alone through the crowding Fede- 
 ral camps — between long lines of red Zouaves — pushed her 
 horse to a gallop, and, travelling all night, came into General 
 Ewell's lines toward morning.* 
 
 * A real incidei
 
 I RETURN THE PACKAGE. 123 
 
 " That is all, General," said Miss Grafton ; " it may no' be very 
 important, but I am sure from the manner in which the Federal 
 officer spoke that he was in earnest." 
 
 "Your communication is very important indeed, madam," 
 6aid the General, with a thoughtful salute, " and you have done 
 the South good service. Now you must be fatigued. I beg that 
 you will repose yourself." 
 
 And, summoning an old dame, the owner of the mansion, the 
 General intrusted Miss Grafton into her hands, holding open the 
 door, and again saluting with profound courtesy, as she retired. 
 
 " I believe that is their plan," I heard him mutter; " yes, the 
 left ! Captain Mordaunt, let us examine the papers brought by 
 your scout, once more." 
 
 In the midst of the consultation I left the room, and sent to 
 request a few minutes' private conversation with Miss Grafton. 
 
 XXXY. 
 
 I RETURN THE PACKAGE. 
 
 My object was to return the package which had been so mys- 
 teriously deposited in my pocket at the house in the Wilderness. 
 
 For more than two months, now, I had constantly carried it 
 about with me, trusting to find some opportunity to return it, 
 but none had presented itself. I had heard of no one travelling 
 toward the Wilderness, and I knew of no post-office. The pack- 
 age threatened to wear out in my pocket, when all at once 
 chance threw me once more with Miss Grafton, and I could rid 
 myself of the unpleasant responsibility. 
 
 To my request for a brief private interview she gave a prompt 
 assent, and in a few moments I found myself alone with the 
 young lady, in a plain sitting-room, lit by a single tallow candle. 
 
 " I am afraid I am keeping you from your rest, Miss Grafton," 
 I said, " but I trust you will excuse me. I expect to set out for 
 the Valley in half an hour, and am anxious, before I go, to ask 
 your assistance in an affair which has not a little annoyed me."
 
 124 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I then explained the origin of the package, which I drew from 
 my pocket, and stated my belief that it belonged to the white 
 lady. It had no direction. I could not venture to open it; 
 would Miss Grafton return it, or, if the owner teas dead, dispose 
 of it in such manner as seemed best to her ? 
 
 At those words, "if tbe owner is dead," the young lady, who 
 had listened with drooping head, suddenly looked up. 
 
 " I see you know all," she said, in a low tone. " Yes, the 
 person we buried the other night, at that desolate spot, was my 
 poor cousin — your acquaintance, sir, in the Wilderness." 
 
 "Poor thing!" 
 
 " Yes, she was truly to be pitied. Something pressed upon 
 her heart, and it killed her. After your visit she did not leave 
 her bed, and, a few days since, she died." 
 
 Such was the dry, bare statement of the young girl. It was 
 plain that she did not design more confidential communica- 
 tion. I was to remain in ignorance still of the meaning of the 
 strange Hcene at the Stone House. Between the impassive cool- 
 ness of Mordaunt and the gentle reserve of my companion, my 
 curiosity threatened to be crushed. 
 
 " And you really believe that my poor cousin placed this in 
 your pocket, sir," said the young lady, pensively. 
 
 " I am sure of it, Miss Grafton." 
 
 She sighed unconsciously, and glanced at the worn and dis- 
 colored envelope. 
 
 " ' Read these when 1 am dead, and think of your own Fran- 
 ces V " she murmured. " Yes, her name was Frances." 
 
 And, as she gazed at the delicate handwriting of the dead 
 woman, her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Captain Surry," she said, passing her handkerchief over her 
 eyes, and speaking with calm sadness, " you became connected 
 With some very sorrowful persons by stopping, that night, in the 
 "Wilderness. It is annoying — even painful — to me, to appear to 
 you ever surrounded with mystery — for mystery is generally 
 discreditable — but I cannot help it. Some day you may know 
 all. Now I must go on and do my duty as I can not speaking 
 of affairs which do not concern me."
 
 I RETURN THE PACKAGE. 125 
 
 " You will pardon me, Miss Grafton, for asking if you design 
 returning to the Wilderness." 
 
 " Never, sir." 
 
 " Have you a protector ?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 " You pain and shock me," was my earnest reply. " "Who will 
 watch over and guard you in these troubled times?" 
 
 " God, sir," was the calm reply. 
 
 I looked with pity and admiration at the beautiful girl who 
 spoke so calmly. There was something inexpressibly revolting 
 in the idea that she had no protector from Fenwick — actually no 
 roof over her head. Here was a delicate girl of seventeen, 
 without friends, relatives, or home — and yet so calm and confi- 
 dent, that you felt that such confidence could not be mis- 
 placed ! 
 
 I begged the young lady to accept a home at my father's 
 house, but she declined. 
 
 " Where was she going?" 
 
 " She did not know." 
 
 As she spoke, a knock was heard at the door, and Mordaunt 
 made his nppearance, pale and gloomy. 
 
 He bowed low, and said with freezing coldness : 
 
 " I shall have the honor to conduct Miss Grafton, as soon as 
 she has rested, to a place of safety. This house may be exposed 
 to the enemy's fire in the battle about to be fought, and General 
 Beauregard wishes Miss Grafton to proceed to the rear." 
 
 What could have induced Mordaunt, the cynical woman- 
 hater, to accept such a commission? I vainly puzzled my mind 
 to solve the question. 
 
 Miss Grafton rose. Her perfect calmness had not altered in 
 the least. 
 
 " I do not feel at all sleepy, sir," she said, "and am ready to 
 set out whenever you wish." 
 
 "I will, then, order Miss Grafton's horse," was Mordannt's 
 reply in the same cold tone ; and with another inclination he 
 left the apartment. 
 
 I took advantage of his absence to utter a few parting words.
 
 126 SUEEY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Your fate is a singular one," I said, "to be thus tossed to 
 and fro in these dangerous times. "Where are you going ?" 
 
 " I do not know," was her calm reply. 
 
 "And yet you are not disquieted?" 
 
 " Why should I he, sir ?" 
 
 " You do not know Captain Mordaunt — you do not know 
 whither he is about to conduct you — and yet you are perfectly 
 composed!" I said, with a sort of admiration. "Allow me to 
 say, Miss Grafton, that your equanimity is something wonder- 
 ful." 
 
 She looked at me with her large, thoughtful eyes for an 
 instant, and replied with unmoved cal mness : 
 
 " God will watch over me, and I shall find friends." 
 
 I could say no more. In presence of this supreme resigna- 
 tion and reliance upon a higher power than man's, I stood 
 abashed. 
 
 Mordaunt entered. 
 
 " Miss Grafton's horse is at the door." 
 
 " I am ready, sir." 
 
 " I trust Miss Grafton will not be alarmed by the darkness," 
 he said with grim courtesy. 
 
 "By the darkness, sir?" she said. 
 
 " It is heavier than before, madam." 
 
 " I rode by myself all night," she replied simply. 
 
 " Miss Grafton may rely upon my exertions to make her ride 
 as agreeable as possible," came from Mordaunt in the same cold 
 tone. 
 
 " I am sure of it, sir," was her calm reply, as she gave him her 
 hand with an air of confiding simplicity which struck me. 
 
 Something like a slight color came to the swarthy cheeks of 
 Mordaunt as he took it and assisted her to mount at the door. 
 He then got into the saddle and took Ids place at her side. 
 
 I exchanged a grasp of the hand with him, and turning to 
 Miss Grafton : 
 
 " You will not forget me, I hope, or cease to remember mo as 
 your friend," I said. 
 
 " I ehall gladly think of you as such," was her reply, with a
 
 A RIDE IN THE DOG-DAYS. 127 
 
 courteous little inclination of her head. And leaning down, she 
 said in a low tone, as her horse moved : 
 
 " I think I have discovered for whom the package of papers 
 was intended." 
 
 A glance of the large blue eyes, which I long remembered — 
 a pressure of the small ungloved hand — and Violet Grafton 
 disappeared with her escort in the darkness. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 A RIDE IN THE DOG-DATS. 
 
 I hastened back to General Beauregard. His horse was at the 
 door, and he was preparing to mount. In his measured voice 
 he gave me my last instructions. They were, to return as 
 rapidly as possible to General Johnston ; inform him that the 
 Federal army was advancing ; and urge the necessity of a 
 prompt junction of the Army of the Shenandoah with tbat ef 
 the Potomac. 
 
 " The enemy's force is now ascertained to be about fifty-five 
 thousand men," he added ; " mine is somewhat less than twenty 
 thousand effective. I do not doubt my ability to hold this 
 position, but more troops are necessary for ulterior opera- 
 tions." 
 
 I clearly understood this allusion. It pointed to the project- 
 ed movement of Johnston's force, by way of the Little River 
 turnpike, against the Federal right flank. 
 
 " Tbat is all, I believe, Captain — the dispatch you bear will 
 convey the rest. Are you well mounted ?" 
 
 " Yes, General." 
 
 " If your horse fails, impress the first you find. Your mes- 
 sage must arrive to-day." 
 
 "It shall, sir." 
 
 General Beauregard gave me his hand, mounted, and set off 
 at a rapid gallop for the front, followed by his staff.
 
 128 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 In ten minutes I left Manassas, at full speed, following the 
 road to Thoroughfare Gap. 
 
 The first light of dawn glimmered in the east as I looked in 
 the direction of the Stone House. I almost fancied I could see 
 it — weird and desolate in the dim light. "What was the mystery, 
 I asked myself, hidden beneath the sombre curtain, a corner of 
 which I had just lifted? What tragedy was this in which Mor- 
 daunt, Miss Grafton, Fenwick, and the woman Parkins were 
 all mixed up — and what had that lugubrious stone mansion to 
 do with the history of all these lives ? 
 
 All speculation was vain — I pushed on. 
 
 My roan was in excellent order, and moved under me like a 
 bundle of steel springs. The distance I had to go was only about 
 fifty miles ; I expected to accomplish it in six hours. But I had 
 not calculated upon the oppressive heat of the weather. 
 
 Passing through Thoroughfare Gap, I reached White Plains 
 soon after sunrise, and then, leaving the main road to Salem, 
 struck across towai'd Kectortown and Paris. 
 
 The sun became burning hot, and my roan was as wet as if he 
 had just swum a river. His speed was undiminished, however; 
 and, finally, the Blue Ridge drew near. 
 
 At Paris there was a group of loungers upon the tavern porch. 
 
 "What news?" they shouted, as I passed at full gallop. 
 
 "Nothing," I replied. 
 
 As 1 left the town, I heard a Dutch-looking farmer say : 
 
 " That officer is riding his horse to death." 
 
 It was true. Going up the mountain, my roan began to toss 
 his head and wheeze : I allowed him for the first time to walk, 
 and thus reached the "Big Poplar," but there I resumed the 
 gallop. 
 
 Two miles further I forded the Shenandoah, looking with cov- 
 etous eyes upon the cool green turf of the banks, shaded by the 
 giant sycamores reaching their mottled arms over the current. 
 
 The cool bath and long draught of the fresh water gave my 
 horse new life ; but the scorching sun poured down all the hotter 
 as we entered again upon the interminable, blazing turnpike. The 
 heat seemed to descend — to rise from the earth in quivering
 
 THE FLANK MOVEMENT. 129 
 
 steam — and the very puffs of air which came at times resembled 
 the breath of a furnace. The dust filled the air, motionless as 
 fog; the minute particles burned the face and choked the throat. 
 
 Beyond Millwood my horse began to stagger. His jaws were 
 reeking with foam, his eyes glaring and bloodshot. 
 
 Pressing him steadily with the spur, I reached and passed the 
 Opequon, came in sight of Winchester, and saw across the fields 
 General Johnston's head-quarters tent. 
 
 A hundred yards from it my roan reeled and fell. I saw Gen- 
 eral Johnston in his tent, and hastened to him. 
 
 "Ah! Captain," he said, "what news? Are you from Ma- 
 nassas to-day ? It is not possible !" 
 
 " To-day, General : the news is important. The enemy are 
 advancing. By this time they are not far from Bull Run." 
 
 " And General Beauregard ?" — 
 
 " Says, if you wish to help him, now is the time." 
 
 And I handed him the dispatch. 
 
 Johnston read it, asked me a few questions, and then sum- 
 moned his adjutant-general. 
 
 " Any thing further, General?" 
 
 "Nothing, Captain. Thanks for your promptness." 
 
 I saluted and went to look after my horse. 
 
 He was dead.* 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 THE FLANK MOVEMENT. 
 
 I had arrived at the crisis. Patterson was extending his left 
 to cut Johnston off from Ashby's Gap, and in twelve hours the 
 Confederate General would have found it impossible to evacuate 
 the Valley without a battle, if at all. 
 
 Those twelve hours I had gained by killing my horse. 
 
 Rapid arrangements were made to move through Ashby's Gap, 
 and in a very few hours the whole army was in motion. 
 
 * A true incident. 
 6*
 
 130 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Stuart picketed the rear so admirably from toward Bunker 
 Hill, by Smithfield, to Rippon and the Shenandoah, that a mouse 
 could not get through ; and, safely moving within this magic cor- 
 don, which kept off all intruders, Johnston's column left Win- 
 chester, passed through Millwood, forded the Shenandoah at Ber- 
 ry's Ferry, and defiled through the Gap. 
 
 The men were crazy with delight, singing and dancing as they 
 went along. The prospect of a battle seemed to intoxicate them. 
 
 Stuart brought up the rear, passing last through the Gap ; and 
 then pushed on to the front. 
 
 The movement by the Little River turnpike was found imprac- 
 ticable, and at Piedmont Station, on the Manassas Gap Railroad, 
 the bulk of the infantry took the cars ; the rest were to follow. 
 Jackson's brigade went by the first train ; we disembarked in the 
 evening at Manassas, and the column was marched to a wood of 
 pines in rear of Mitchell's Ford. 
 
 The roar of artillery which greeted us as we approached indi- 
 cated that the adversaries were face to face, and the decisive 
 struggle about to begin. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 TWO BROTHERS. 
 
 Shall I tell you, my dear reader, what I saw of the battle of 
 Manassas? It possesses a perennial interest; but then it is so 
 familiar ! Still I can't well omit some notice of it in these me- 
 moirs of my times. Those who know it all by heart can turn the 
 leaf. 
 
 It was about three in the morning, on the famous 21st, that I 
 was waked by General Jackson as I lay under a tree, and sent 
 with a message to General Johnston. 
 
 Your toilet is not a heavy affair on the eve of a battle : I had 
 only to take my riding-cape, buckle on my belt, and rub my eyes. 
 Then I mounted, and set out for the farm-house where Johnston 
 and Beauregard had established their joint head-quarters.
 
 TWO BROTHERS. 131 
 
 The place was in a great bustle. To the fences and the boughs 
 of the trees were affixed the horses of the staff and couriers., 
 ready saddled ; and mounted men constantly went and came. A 
 sullen gun, at intervals, from the front, mingled with the clatter 
 of sabres and the sound of horses' hoofs. 
 
 The two Generals were closeted in an inner room. My name 
 was sent in, and in ten minutes I was informed that I could 
 enter. 
 
 Generals Johnston and Beauregard were seated at a table, upon 
 wiiich was spread a topographical map of the region, and the 
 former rested Ins finger upon Stoneb ridge. 
 
 " This is the key of the position," he said. "I think the at- 
 tack will be here, General." 
 
 I saluted, and w r as about to deliver my message, when a dis- 
 patch was brought in. Beauregard read it with attention. 
 
 " The enemy are moving in heavy force to the left," he said, 
 in a low tone. " Captain Mordaunt's scouts report the main body 
 massing between Centreville and Stonebridge." 
 
 As he spoke his face glowed. 
 
 "Now is the time, General," he said. "Ewell and Bonham 
 can strike their flank and rear before sunrise." 
 
 Johnston inclined his head. 
 
 " Then, no time is to be lost, General." 
 
 This was the authorization for which Beauregard evidently 
 waited. In an instant he had ordered couriers, and was ardently 
 dictating orders to his adjutant. I could not help hearing them. 
 The orders directed the officers commanding the right and centre 
 to hold themselves ready to advance at a moment's notice, and 
 attack the Federal rear at Centreville. 
 
 Meanwhile, I had delivered my message, which referred to the 
 disposition of the artillery, and, receiving the orders of General 
 Johnston, hastened to return. I had scarcely reached camp, and 
 communicated the result of my mission, when the roar of artil- 
 lery was heard from the direction of Stonebridge ; and Jackson 
 ordered his brigade to be gotten under arms. 
 
 Orders soon came for him to move and re-enforce Longstreet, 
 at Blackburn's Ford, below. Before the troops had reached that
 
 132 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 point, new orders arrived, directing him to go to the assistance 
 of General Cocke, near Stonebridge. As the column approached 
 this point the sun rose, and from the extensive plateau in front 
 came the sharp crack of musketry. The roar of artillery from 
 beyond the stream had continued steadily. 
 
 " This must be only a demonstration," muttered Jackson, 
 and, turning round, he directed me to ride toward Sudley Ford, 
 and ascertain if any movement was taking place in that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 I hastened to obey, and, striking across into the Sudley-Brents- 
 ville road, was soon at the ford, where I found Mordaunt sullenly 
 falling back, and disputing the ground inch by inch, with an over- 
 whelming column advancing rapidly from the woods beyond. As 
 I joined him, a storm of bullets came hissing from a dark line 
 rapidly advancing, and a portion of the cavalry came back at a 
 gallop. Mordaunt's face flushed hot, and, drawing his sabre, he 
 thundered : 
 
 " I will kill the first man who attempts to pass me ! Form line. 
 I am falling back — I am not running!" 
 
 His voice had its effect ; line was formed facing the enemy, 
 and the men slowly fell back fighting. 
 
 "Well, Surry," said Mordaunt, with entire coolness, "things 
 are going on badly in this part of the field, and, unless General 
 Beauregard hurries troops here, he will be flanked and driven out 
 of his defences on Manassas. There is nothing to check the 
 enemy. I will die here, if necessary ; but it is perfectly useless. 
 What can I do with one company ? That column advancing 
 numbers at least thirty thousand. I have sent courier after 
 courier, but yet no reply." 
 
 " I will see that General Johnston knows the extent of the 
 danger." And I went back rapidly to report it. 
 
 Reaching Colonel Evans first, near Stonebridge, I informed 
 him of the state of affairs, and he instantly put his command — 
 about one regiment — in motion, and advanced to check the 
 enemy. 
 
 Then I found General Jackson, and gave him the intelligence. 
 He at once sent a staff officer, on a fresh horse, to Johnston ;
 
 TWO BROTHERS. 133 
 
 and at that moment a long roar of musketry beyond the hill an- 
 nounced that Evans had engaged the enemy. 
 
 It steadily increased in intensity, hut did not recede or ap- 
 proach. Evans was evidently holding his ground. In an hour, 
 however, it drew nearer, and the meaning of this was unmistak- 
 able. Then all at once the glitter of bayonets was seen behind 
 us, and Bee and Bartow appeared, rapidly moving to the threat- 
 ened point. 
 
 The troops pressed on with cheers — they were seen to form 
 line of battle on the Henry House hill — then they disappeared 
 beneath the crest, and the redoubled roar of musketry told that 
 Bee had engaged the enemy. 
 
 The firing from that moment became incessant, and indicated 
 a desperate conflict. It continued for more than an hour. Then 
 it rapidly approached, and the cheers of the Federal troops 
 echoed among the hills. Bee was evidently falling back. 
 
 Jackson listened with an unmoved countenance, but a glitter 
 of the eye, which indicated much in him. All at once the roar 
 of triumph drew nearer — Bee's men began to appear, straggling 
 over the hill. 
 
 "Attention!" came in Jackson's curt tones, and the men, 
 who had been lying down, rose to their feet and formed line of 
 battle. 
 
 " Ride to General Bee, Captain, and inform him I am coming 
 tore-enforce him," said Jackson. 
 
 And I hastened, at a gallop, toward the firing. A regiment 
 was forming line of battle along the Warrenton road, just to the 
 right of the Stone House. 
 
 "What command is this?" I asked of one of the men. 
 
 " The Hampton Legion." 
 
 "What number?" 
 
 " Six hundred muskets." 
 
 I rode on rapidly, passing hundreds of stragglers. The roar 
 of guns was now near at hand — incessant, obstinate; and Bee 
 was falling back in utter confusion. His broken lines were torn 
 by shell, canister, and musketry — the struggle was over — the 
 triumphant enemy were pressing forward with wild cheers.
 
 134 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Suddenly, I heard the sharp crack of Hampton's skirmishers 
 on the right, and Bee rode up, breathing heavily, covered with 
 dust and sweat, and holding in his hand his drawn sword, with 
 which he had been rallying his men. I knew him very well, and 
 at once delivered my message. 
 
 " Thank God !" he replied, hoarsely. "They have broken my 
 line to pieces — by pure weight of numbers. Men never fought 
 better. "What troops are those, Captain, in the road, yonder?" 
 
 " The Hampton Legion." 
 
 " Oblige me by telling Colonel Hampton he must hold his 
 position until entirely flanked — to the very last." 
 
 I obeyed, and reached Hampton just as a heavy column pressed 
 down from the direction of Red House Ford and opened fire 
 upon him. 
 
 " Present my respects to General Bee," said Colonel Hampton, 
 a tall and fine-looking man, with an air of entire coolness, " and 
 tell him that I hope to give a good account of the force in my 
 front. This position will soon be flanked, however, and I shall 
 be compelled to fall back." 
 
 A volley from the enemy came as he spoke, and he ordered his 
 men to rise and fire. 
 
 The effect was decisive. The six hundred muskets were dis- 
 charged almost like a single piece, and the Federal line in front 
 broke, and retreated under cover of the high ground in their 
 rear. 
 
 I hastened back, and found Bee making desperate efforts to 
 rally his men. Sword in hand, he rode among them, beseeching 
 them by all they held dear to re-form their line. His voice was 
 scarcely heard in the roar of battle, and the enemy pressed on, 
 driving the Southern lines back in utter disorder. 
 
 Finally, they reached the ground near the Stone House I had 
 visited with Mordaunt, and jdanted their artillery in the road, 
 forcing Hampton to fall back. Then there was nothing further 
 to resist their advance, and Bee, with a look of despair, galloped 
 in the direction of Jackson. I was with him, and heard the 
 brave Carolinian groan out, as they came face to face : 
 
 "General, they are beating us back !"
 
 TWO BROTHERS. 135 
 
 Jackson looked for an instant toward the enemy, bis lips 
 moved, and lie said, coolly : 
 
 " Sir, we will give them the bayonet." 
 
 Bee seemed to gather new resolution from these words, and, 
 galloping toward his straggling lines, shouted : 
 
 " Look ! Yonder stands Jackson, like a stone wall. Let us 
 determine to die here, and we will conquer!" 
 
 Jackson had, meanwhile, turned to me, and said, witli his hab- 
 itual coolness : 
 
 " Captain, go to the colonels of all my regiments, and tell 
 them that my instructions are, as soon as the enemy gets 
 close enough, say within fifty yards, to charge with the bay- 
 onet."* 
 
 This order I conveyed to the different colonels, as they formed 
 their lines along the eastern crest of the Henry House hill. The 
 men were ordered to lie down, two pieces of artillery were 
 thrown forward and opened fire, and under their protection 
 Bee formed his shattered line in a ravine on Jackson's right. 
 
 In face of this new line of battle the enemy did not imme- 
 diately advance. They were checked, and the day was saved. 
 
 I was looking across the hills to the left, where Mordaunt's 
 cavalry was seen falling back to take position on the flank, when 
 Jackson called me and said : 
 
 " General Johnston must know exactly the condition of things 
 here. Present my compliments to him, and tell him that the 
 enemy are checked, but I must have re-enforcements. If this 
 hill is lost, all is lost. I am going to seize and hold it ; but I 
 must be supported. Bee is overwhelmed. Hampton is driven 
 back. If the enemy fortify yonder, all is over. Explain this, 
 and lose no time." 
 
 In half an hour I was at Johnston's head-quarters, still at the 
 farm-house opposite Mitchell's Ford. He and Beauregard were 
 in the saddle, anxiously listening to the continuous fire from the 
 left. 
 
 " Well, Captain," came from Beauregard, the more ardent of 
 the two. 
 
 * His •rderg.
 
 136 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I saluted, and explained the state of things near Stone- 
 bridge. It evidently produced a deep impression upon both 
 officers. 
 
 "All now depends upon the movement of the right and 
 centre," muttered Beauregard, looking in the direction of Centre- 
 ville. " Why don't the firing commence ?" 
 
 "I fear it is too late," was Johnston's cool reply. 
 
 At the same moment, a staff-officer came up, his horse foam- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, Major?" exclaimed Beauregard. 
 
 "General Ewell never received your order, sir, and General 
 Bonham only just now." 
 
 Beauregard made a gesture in which it was impossible to say 
 whether anger or disappointment predominated. 
 
 " We'must fight it out on the left," said Johnston. " Counter- 
 mand the orders to Ewell and Bonham, General, and let us ride 
 to where the fight is going on." 
 
 In five minutes, the two generals were proceeding at full gal- 
 lop toward the scene of action. 
 
 They arrived at the moment when the enemy had gained pos- 
 session of the Henry House hill, and were pressing forward to at- 
 tack Jackson, whose two pieces of artillery were steadily firing in 
 front of his line. 
 
 The attention of the two generals was immediately turned to 
 the disordered ranks of Bee. Johnston seized the colors of a 
 Southern regiment, and, leading the men forward, re-formed their 
 line in face of a heavy fire. Beauregard meanwhile galloped up 
 and down the lines, his swarthy face glowing, his eyes flashing, 
 his sonorous voice calling upon the men to stand their ground, 
 lie presented at this moment a splendid picture. The fire of the 
 horn soldier flamed in his regard, and his martial spirit rode, as 
 it were, upon the wave of battle, rejoicing in the storm. 
 
 Under the passionate appeals of the two commanders, the men 
 speedily rallied, and line of battle was at once formed. Other 
 regiments and additional artillery had hurried forward, and, 
 thanks to the bold stand made by Jackson, time had been given 
 for something like an adequate force to arrive. It amounted, as
 
 TWO BROTHERS. 137 
 
 I afterward discovered, to only about six or seven thousand men ; 
 but this was enough to show fight until re-euforceinents came. 
 
 The enemy had now formed a long and heavy line of battle, 
 upon the Henry House hill, and their artillery crowned every 
 knoll. They continued to pour a heavy firo of all arms upon the 
 Southern line, and the only response was from two or three bat- 
 teries, under Colonel Pendleton, in Jackson's immediate front. 
 These were just under the crest, and engaged the Federal batte- 
 ries at close range. 
 
 Jackson was riding up and down behind them, watching the 
 fire. 
 
 " I expect these boys will all be killed," he muttered ; " but 
 the occasion demands the sacrifice." 
 
 As he spoke, a fragment of shell struck him in the hand, and 
 I saw the blood flow. 
 
 "You are hurt, General," I exclaimed. 
 
 " It is nothing," he said, wrapping his handkerchief around it ; 
 and, seeing that the attention of the men had been called to it, 
 he rode up and down the line, repeating quietly, "Steady, boys, 
 steady! all's well!" 
 
 The fire now became very heavy, and the enemy were steadily 
 advancing. All at once an officer galloped up, and said, in great 
 agitation : 
 
 " General, the day is going against us." 
 
 Such things peculiarly displeased Jackson. He gave the offi- 
 cer a quick glance from beneath his old faded cap — such a glance 
 as I for one should not have liked to encounter — and said, in his 
 curtest and gruffest tones : 
 
 " If you think so, sir, you had better say nothing about it !'' 
 
 The officer turned away, with a sudden flush upon his coun- 
 tenance. At the same moment, a loud cheer on the left attracted 
 our attention, and we saw Colonel Cumming, commanding one 
 of the regiments of the brigade, charge and capture a Federal 
 battery. 
 
 Jackson's face glowed, and he uttered an exclamation which 
 proved that all the soldier was aroused in him. But the triumph 
 was short-lived. Cumming could not hold the battery in face of
 
 138 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 the withering fire directed upon him, and we saw him slowly fall 
 hack, as the enemy's whole line swept forward. 
 
 It was at this moment that I discerned for the first time in 
 Jackson the supreme attributes of the man of military genius. 
 He seemed to rise under pressure, and to grow cooler and more 
 invincible as peril drew near. The air was full of balls, the whole 
 scene was one glare of musketry and cannon, and on all sides 
 were heard groans, cheers, and shouts of triumph or despair ; hut 
 it was impossible to discern upon his face any traces whatever of 
 emotion. It was like a mask of bronze ; and his movements were 
 as calm and measured as if upon parade. In thr.ee. minutes now 
 the shock must come, I saw plainly ; but Jackson appeared as 
 indifferent as though perfectly certain of the result. 
 
 The long, dark line pressed on, blazing from end to end, and 
 the artillery was withdrawn at a gallop. It passed around the 
 right of the line, and then I knew that the moment had come for 
 the decisive struggle. 
 
 Rushing forward with triumphant cheers, the Federal line was 
 within about seventy-five yards, when I heard Jackson command, 
 " Charge with the bayonet !" 
 
 The men responded with the wildest ardor, delivered a stag- 
 gering volley as they rose to their feet, and then rushed up the 
 slope. 
 
 This movement was executed with such suddenness and deter- 
 mination, that the Federal line recoiled and gave way as the 
 Southerners dashed upon them. The fire which greeted them 
 was frightful, but the charge was not checked ; and in five min- 
 utes Jackson had pierced the Federal centre, and his troops were 
 fighting on the ground near the Henry House. 
 
 The men never fought better ; and, as one after another fell, 
 the ranks closed up, and the troops kept to their work like vet- 
 erans instead of recruits. The boys were even more ardent than 
 the men ; and, as I was carrying an order to the right, I heard the 
 voice of young Charley Beverley, with whom I had become well 
 acquainted, though I have not before mentioned the fact, call out 
 to me in great glee : 
 
 " Look, Captain, look! "We are driving 'em !"
 
 TWO BEOTHEES, 
 
 139 
 
 The young fellow fired his musket as he spoke ; but the next 
 moment I heard him utter a groan, and saw him stagger. 
 
 "What's the matter, Charley?" 
 
 " Only a scratch," he replied, turning pale, and trying to smile. 
 I had just time to throw myself from my horse and catch him in 
 my arms before he fell. He had been shot through the arm. 
 
 Two men whom I called carried him to the rear. I had no 
 time to attend to him further. Eemounting my horse, I hastened 
 to find Colonel Hampton, near the Henry House. As I went on, 
 some men were bearing off General Bee. I had no time to speak 
 to the mortally wounded officer ; but I heard him, as I passed, 
 murmur, " Tell my men not to give up the field !" 
 
 Colonel Hampton was rushing forward at the head of his men, 
 when, just as I reached him, he was struck and fell. The great 
 Carolinian attempted to rise, but strength failed him, and, waving 
 his sword for his line to press on, he was borne from the field. 
 
 At the same moment I felt my horse stagger — then he fell. A 
 ball had pierced his chest, and I found myself on foot. The close 
 roar of musketry drowned every other sound, and officers and 
 men were falling all around me. 
 
 All at once I saw, not far from me, one of the companies of the 
 brigade which was entirely unofficered, and began to waver. 
 I ran in the direction of it, and found the men only wanted 
 some one to lead them. At a word they closed up, and 
 advanced unbroken, on the Federal line, then rapidly pushing 
 forward. 
 
 So close were the opposing lines at this critical moment, that, 
 in spite of the dense smoke, I could see almost the " whites of 
 their eyes." Suddenly a chill, like that of death, passed through 
 my frame, and my blood ran cold : in the officer leading a com- 
 pany of Federal infantry directly in front of me, I recognized my 
 younger brother Will. 
 
 He was on foot in front of the line, waving his sword and 
 cheering wildly. All at once, as the smoke drifted, his eyes en- 
 countered my own; and I saw, in an instant, that be had recog- 
 nized me. 
 
 He turned pale, and his sword sank. The cry died away on
 
 140 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 his lips. At that instant, I felt a sharp pain in my breast, and 
 a sort of cloud passed before my eyes. "When I opened them, I 
 saw that the Federal line had swept past me, driving back the 
 company I had commanded ; and bending over me I saw the pale 
 face of my brother. He supported my head upon his shoulder, 
 and with his right hand was holding a white handkerchief to my 
 breast, which was bleeding profusely. 
 
 "Brother!" exclaimed the boy, for he was hardly more, "God 
 forgive me ! — you are shot — mortally wounded — and by my own 
 men!" 
 
 I tried to smile. 
 
 "I'm afraid they've done for me, Will," was all I could say, 
 for the faint feeling came back, and my voice died away. 
 
 " How could I know !— to think that we should meet thus !— 
 to kill you, brother," he used my old name, " when I love you 
 more than the whole world! — when I would die for you !" 
 
 And I heard a choking sob, mingled with a groan, as, straining 
 me close to his bosom, he pressed to my cheek his face wet with 
 tears. 
 
 Strange meeting of two brothers after years of separation! 
 But the interview quickly terminated. The battle had roared on, 
 and the storm of balls swept over us, as, thus lost in the bloody 
 gulf of conflict, we had spoken with the old love and tenderness 
 to each other. Now we were to be torn asunder again. The 
 Federal line, which had advanced triumphantly a moment before, 
 was now driven back. The long crash of musketry from Jack- 
 son's line filled the air; and suddenly my brother's company 
 was seen retreating in disorder. 
 
 He wrung his hands, and uttered a sob of agony. 
 
 "What can I do, brother!" he exclaimed. "If I stay here, I 
 am a prisoner— worse still, disgraced ! But I would rather die 
 than leave you dying here!" 
 
 I rose upon one arm and pointed to his men. 
 
 " Go, Will," I said ; " a Surry can't desert his colors. It's not 
 your fault that I am shot. Go! — in a moment you will be a 
 prisoner!" 
 
 A sort of convulsion passed over the youthful face, and his
 
 ELM COTTAGE AND ITS INMATES. 141 
 
 bosom shook. He enclosed me in his arms, and kissed me as he 
 had done when we were children. 
 
 "You are right, brother," he said, gloomily. "Farewell! I 
 am going yonder to die!" 
 
 "With these words he left me, and his figure disappeared amid 
 the smoke. 
 
 All that I remember after this was a frightful commingling 
 of cheers, yells, groans, and dying cries, over which rose the 
 heavy roar of artillery and the long, deafening roll of musketry. 
 For nearly an hour, the opposing lines seemed staggering to and 
 fro on the extensive plateau, in a breast-to-breast struggle for its 
 possession. All that I could make out distinctly was, that the 
 Southern lines still held their ground. 
 
 Then a quicker and heavier fire came from the flanks; it ad- 
 vanced ; wild cheers rose from the men of Jackson near, and I 
 knew that our re-enforcements had arrived, and that the enemy 
 were giving way. The roar around me redoubled, and all the 
 furies seemed to be let loose. It was no longer a battle, but a 
 sort of Pandemonium. But the wild turmoil of battle steadily 
 receded westward ; the Southern lines were seen sweeping for- 
 ward like a huge wave ; and then I knew that the Federal line 
 of battle was broken from end to end of the great field. 
 
 I half rose, and, clutching the bloody handkerchief which "Will 
 had dropped, tried to wave it above me and cheer. 
 
 As I did so, the blood gushed over my bosom — a cloud passed 
 before my eyes, and, falling heavily back, I lost consciousness. 
 
 That is all I remember, my dear reader, of this famous battle. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 ELM COTTAGE AND ITS INMATES. 
 
 I had afterward a faint recollection of being lifted in the 
 arms of some one, and then of travelling somewhere in a carriage, 
 and being carried into a house through a porch covered with 
 flowers. I thought it was all a dream when I saw bending
 
 142 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 over me, with flushed cheeks, a figure which resembled that of 
 May Beverley. 
 
 It was that young lady in person. Not to weary you with 
 long explanations, my dear reader, I was at Elm Cottage, near 
 White Plains, a small vine-embowered mansion belonging to Mrs. 
 Fitzhugh, an excellent old lady, and a sister of Mrs. Beverley, 
 of The Oaks. The entire family from The Oaks had come down 
 to be near Charley, in case he was wounded in the battle about 
 to be fought ; the Colonel had speedily discovered him, and the 
 youth had been promptly moved. As the carriage was leaving 
 the field, Charley saw me lying beneath the tree to which I had 
 been carried, cried out that I had been his friend, and no urging 
 was necessary to induce the old Colonel to take charge of me. So 
 I was to be nursed by the gentle hands of women, and not by 
 "detailed men 1 ' in a hospital. 
 
 I am not going to bore the reader with my experiences of the 
 effect of a gunshot wound. Everybody, including the surgeon 
 who attended me, thought I would certainly die, but I did not. 
 I had a burning fever, and, I have no doubt, got at one time to 
 the very brink of the grave — but there the clutch of the Death 
 Angel relaxed. My wound began to heal. 
 
 There were some incidents connected with this fever, however, 
 which were far from unpleasant. I could not for the life of me 
 determine, at the moment, whether I dreamed them or they 
 actually occurred. 
 
 The figure of May Beverley haunted me, and I thought that she 
 was almost constantly sitting by my bed, holding my thin hand, 
 and looking at me with tears in her eyes. When she disap- 
 peared, her place was taken by Violet Grafton ; and her silken 
 ringlets in turn faded away to be replaced by the tender face of 
 my young sister Annie and the mild eyes of my father. 
 
 When I grew stronger, and the fever left me, I knew that all 
 these figures were real. Violet Grafton had been conducted to 
 Mrs. Fitzhugh's by Mordaunt, on the night when they left Beau- 
 regard's head-quarters, and my father had hastened with Annie 
 from Eagle's-Nest. 
 
 It was surrounded by all these kind faces that I slowly began
 
 ELM COTTAGE AND ITS INMATES. 143 
 
 to recover. Charley was nearly well already, went about with 
 his arm in a very handsome sling, and distributed his jokes, 
 anecdotes, and warlike reminiscences on every side, especially 
 in the direction of Miss Annie Surry, between whom and the 
 youth seemed to exist the very best understanding. 
 
 It really did appear at one time that relations equally pleasing 
 were going to be established between two other persons. May 
 Beverley was much changed, and I longed, but was afraid, to ask 
 whether she had broken her repulsive contract. You have seen 
 her, my dear reader, during those days at The Oaks. She 
 was now a very different person. Surely something had oc- 
 curred to make her future less threatening ! In her eyes, her 
 smile, every movement of her person, there was an exquisite 
 gayety which I had never seen before. Her glance at times was 
 full of such sweetness, that it very nearly intoxicated the poor 
 invalid who met it. He watched every motion of the slender and 
 graceful figure — her voice was like music to him : his state of 
 mind was imbecile in the very highest degree ! If her smile dis- 
 appeared, it was to give way to tears at some pathetic story or 
 some incident of heroism. Then her bosom heaved, her cheeks 
 filled with blushes, and a pensive languor seemed to weigh down 
 the beautiful head. "When, drying her eyes, she turned and 
 looked at me with a smile, those great violet orbs made my 
 pulses leap. I was a thousand times more enthralled than be- 
 fore. 
 
 It is the " old story of a man and a woman " which I am re- 
 lating, you see, reader. Has the fable never been narrated 
 of you? My little drama was played, however, under somewhat 
 peculiar circumstances. 
 
 Did you ever lie upon a sofa, my dear reader, while recovering 
 from a gunshot wound, and pass the hours listening to a musical 
 voice reading to you — the voice of the woman you loved, but 
 who, unfortunately, was engaged to another individual? The 
 sensation is peculiar. You feel in a delightful state of uncertainty 
 as to your status in the eyes of the fair damsel. That voice is 
 exquisitely musical, but it is probably going soon to say "I will," 
 where that reply is called for in the Form for the Solemnization
 
 144 SURRY OF EAGLE' S-NEST. 
 
 of Matrimony, and you are not going to be the individual to make 
 the other responses. Those eyes are charming, and look at you 
 at times in a manner which makes your heart beat ; but they 
 may have a richer light still to bestow upon that hateful person- 
 age known in pathetic love-songs as "Another." Those lips, 
 so red and soft, which thrill you, at certain moments, with their 
 sweet and tender smile, you think, with a groan of rage and 
 jealousy, to what uses they may be put, and mutter, if you are 
 poetically inclined : 
 
 " Dear as remembered kisses after death, 
 And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned, 
 On lips that are for others." 
 
 That obstinate " Another " thus thrusts himself in, you see, 
 on all occasions. You are called upon to decide upon your 
 course with the promptness of a general in face of the enemy. 
 "Will you brace yourself against a "hopeless attachment," and 
 " tear her image from your heart " (see numerous romances), or 
 will you accept the goods provided by the kind immortals, 
 close your eyes to the past and future, and, seeing nothing but 
 the face beside you, let your bark drift on wherever the waves 
 may bear it ? 
 
 — I drifted. 
 
 So, amid the songs of birds and the perfume of a thousand 
 flowers, with May Beverley reading "old romances" to me, I 
 passed the happy hours of my convalescence. But the cloud 
 was coming — the storm approached. Suddenly one day, all the 
 sunny light disappeared from May Beverley's face ; her girlish 
 happiness and abandon vanished : the beautiful brow of the young 
 lady was overclouded, and the fair Hebe "stiffened into stone." 
 
 There had come to the vine-embowered cottage of Mrs. Fitz- 
 hugh a superbly clad officer, in a new uniform all shining with 
 gold braid — and this officer was Captain Frederick Baskerville, 
 Volunteer Aide-de-Oamp to some general of Beauregard's army. 
 In regard to Captain Baskerville, Volunteer A. D. C, the reader 
 knows that I am not a fair witness. But others said that he 
 never would go into action. The taunts, even before him, of 
 the young ladies of the country, whose brothers were in the
 
 ELM COTTAGE AND ITS INMATES. 145 
 
 army, had induced him to seek his easy position, it was said j 
 hut he was always sick or on furlough. Jealousy! envy\ 
 illiberality ! I hear my readers exclaim. Doubtless — for who 
 ever could see any merit in a rival ? It was curious, however, 
 that nobody that knew this man could bear him. 
 
 The person who liked him least of all, apparently, was May 
 Beverley. She treated him with unmistakable coldness — but I 
 wish to guard the reader from supposing that she was much 
 more cordial in her demeanor toward another person. From 
 that unlucky moment when Captain Baskerville made his ap- 
 pearance, all the young lady's sunny smiles disappeared ; the 
 thaw stopped ; she froze again. 
 
 No sickness lasts forever, and you finally recover, even from 
 a bullet through the lungs. Soon after the appearance of Bas- 
 kerville at Elm Cottage, the Beverleys returned to The Oaks, 
 and very soon thereafter I set out Avith my father and sister in 
 the rickety old family carriage for Eagle's-Nest. 
 
 1 have said nothing of Violet Grafton, and yet she had been 
 like a ministering angel to me in my illness. She had become a 
 decided favorite with Mrs. Fitzhugh, a woman of great warmth 
 of heart and strength of character, who liked or disliked you 
 vigorously, and "spoke her mind" on all occasions; and this 
 excellent lady now declared that Violet should not leave her. 
 "She is a perfect darling," said the old lady, busily knitting, 
 " and never shall want a home as long as I have one." So the 
 beautiful girl seemed moored in a serene port at last, secure from 
 storms. There was but one other member of the household, 
 Miss Henrietta Fitzhugh, niece of the old lady, and a perfect 
 witch of gayety and abandon. Scarcely sixteen, she already be- 
 gan to "make eyes" at the male sex, and had the contagious 
 playfulness of a kitten. I cannot speak further of Miss Henrietta 
 at this time; she will probably reappear on the scene. Ibid 
 all these kind friends farewell, enter the old carriage, and, tra- 
 versing Fauquier and Stafford, we cross the Rappahannock and 
 are safely landed at Eagle's-Nest. 
 7
 
 146 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 XL. 
 
 A CHAPTER ENTIRELY WITHOUT INCIDENT. 
 
 It was already autumn when we reached Eagle's-Nest, and the 
 September days had begun to tint the woods with the rich col- 
 ors of the fall. The old house, perched upon its lofty hill above 
 the Rappahannock, seemed to hold out arms of welcome ; and I 
 greeted all the old familiar scenes and sights with the ardor of an 
 exile coming home, once more, after years of absence. 
 
 The sight of the ancient mansion, buried in its trees, was 
 
 " Welcome as the hand 
 Of brother in a foreign land," 
 
 as says the sweetest and most musical — to my ear, at least — of all 
 the Northern poets; and I know not what emotion of boyish 
 yearning came to me as I entered the old hall, and murmured, 
 " After all, there is nothing like home !" 
 
 The old pointer on the porch came forward frisking to re- 
 ceive my salutation ; the portraits seemed to smile upon me ; and 
 as I passed the picture of Philip Surry the cavalier, I thought the 
 eyes followed and spoke to me. 
 
 My wound was slow in healing, and I was driven to my books 
 for amusement. What a world of thought and emotion lies open 
 at the feet of the student ! Books are the depositories of the 
 thoughts of the great — and these thoughts, more than all else, 
 stimulate the intellect. I have known some men, whose minds 
 were a very thin soil indeed, but who had read so much that a 
 very good crop was the result ! When the soil is naturally 
 strong, the culture of the student makes the intellectual giant. 
 
 Unfortunately, the present writer read only for amusement, 
 and had an "ill-regulated mind." It was the honey that I sought, 
 not the fruit; and in the sunny mornings, in my chair upon the 
 portico, it was a volume of romance or poetry, not history or 
 philosophy, which enabled me to pass the hours so pleasantly. 
 
 Sometimes the open book lay for hours almost on my knee, 
 and I mused upon a hundred things— upon my visit to the Wil-
 
 A CHAPTER WITHOUT INCIDENT. 147 
 
 derness, Violet Grafton, Mordaunt, May Beverley, the meeting 
 with Will, and then came the gay laugh of Stuart breaking on 
 the silence, and heard almost with the material ear. The trees 
 rustled in the fresh September airs; Annie ran to place in my 
 button-hole a bunch of autumn flowers; the great river flowed 
 below the hills — a ribbon of silver on a tissue of emerald ; and 
 Eagle's-Nest, and all thereunto appertaining, was a lazy, tranquil 
 picture of an old Virginia home. 
 
 With the advent of October I grew stronger, and finally ven- 
 tured out with my gun after the partridges. Then, enamored 
 of the glorious days, I fitted up my boat, and went duck-shooting 
 on the Rappahannock. One day, when I had gotten thoroughly 
 wet at this sport, I returned with a hot feeling about the head. 
 On the next morning I could scarcely get out of bed, and that 
 evening had a burning fever. 
 
 It lasted me almost until spring, and brought me to death's 
 door. 
 
 During my illness I heard little of politics or war. I only knew 
 that the North had determined to carry on hostilities with greater 
 energy than ever, and that immense armaments were marshal- 
 ling by land and sea to force the South back into the Union. 
 Johnston and Beauregard remained at Centreville, facing the Fed- 
 eral army, now commanded by General McClellan ; and Jackson 
 had been appointed Major-General, and, proceeding to Winches- 
 ter, had made an expedition against the enemy on the Upper Po- 
 tomac, which had resulted in their retreat from that region. I 
 had received a letter from him, enclosing an official document, 
 and this had proved to be my appointment as Major, which, I had 
 no doubt, his friendship had secured for me. 
 
 Among the figures which peopled my musings, you will no 
 doubt understand, my dear reader, that a certain young lady had 
 a prominent place. I have not insisted upon raving about her, 
 but she was seldom out of my mind. I always got back, how- 
 ever, after my extensive trains of reflection, to the point from 
 which I started — that my best plan was, to stay away from her. 
 " It is for every young lady to decide her own destiny," I mut- 
 tered with gloomy pride; "and she has decided to marry that
 
 148 SURRY OP EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 man. I would like to go and cut his throat, hut that would not 
 mend matters!" And, turning over in my bed, I would try to 
 think of something else. 
 
 In February I left my bed, and by the first of March had nearly 
 regained my strength. My purpose was to return at the earliest 
 possible moment to my duties, and, thanks to my father, I was 
 supplied with a good horse to replace those which I had lost. 
 
 My servant had followed me from Manassas to Elm Cottage, 
 and from Elm Cottage to Eagle's-Nest. He responded with 
 grins to my announcement that I was ready to return to camp, 
 the lazy life of which the sable individual dearly loved ; and in 
 the first week of March I set out to rejoin General Jackson. 
 
 This time I had not the sign of an incident upon the way, and 
 I did not stop at The Oaks. Crossing the Blue Ridge at Ashby's 
 Gap, and passing through the little village of Millwood without 
 drawing rein, I was directed to, and on a raw March evening 
 reached. General Jackson's head-quarters near Winchester. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE DISPATCH FROM RICHMOND. 
 
 When I entered his tent, Jackson was reading his Bible, which 
 rested on his knees. At sight of me, he closed the volume, and, 
 rising, cordially pressed my hand, offering, after his habitual 
 fashion, to take my hat. 
 
 " I am pleased to see you again, Captain, or Major, as I must 
 now call you," he said, smiling; "your escape has been truly 
 providential." 
 
 " Thanks, General, for your good wishes, and my appointment, 
 which I suspect I owe to your friendship. Are you well of your 
 own wound ?" 
 
 •' Entirely ; it was a trifle. I have reason to be thankful, when 
 so many brave men fell. Did you receive a message by flag of 
 truce from your brother? I mean Lieutenant Surry, of the 
 United States Army."
 
 THE DISPATCH FROM RICHMOND. 149 
 
 " Thank you, General — yes ; and replied to it." 
 A fact of which I have neglected to speak. Will announced 
 that he was unhurt ; and I had written from Eagle's-Nest. 
 Jackson shook his head, and said : 
 
 " This is a most unhappy conflict ; and the enemy seem bent 
 upon our complete destruction. But the South must do her duty 
 and trust in Providence. I shall try to hold this region ; but my 
 force is wholly inadequate." 
 
 " I do not ask your plans, General, but would like to know the 
 etate of affairs." 
 
 "It is simple : the army fs reorganizing — a bad arrangement; 
 and my plan is to put on as bold a front as possible, until the 
 troops are in a condition to take the field. What I desire is, to 
 hold my ground until we can advance then ; with God's bless- 
 ing, let us make thorough work of it!"* 
 "What force has the enemy, General?" 
 
 " Nearly fifty thousand men. General Banks is at Charlestown 
 with about thirty-five thousand. General Kelly, succeeding Lan- 
 der at Paw-paw, with ubout eleven thousand ; and others are dis- 
 tributed along the Potomac." 
 
 "Why, that is sufficient to swallow us !" 
 
 " I do not feel discouraged ; and we may now look for war in 
 earnest.* I have long ago made up my mind on the point, 
 Major. If this Valley is lost, all is lost !* And, in defending it, 
 I gratify my own feelings. It contains the homes of my brave 
 soldiers;* and, with God's blessing, I intend to hold every 
 foot of it, whatever may be the force that is brought against 
 me!" 
 
 I listened in silence, and more than ever admired this deter- 
 mined leader. 
 
 "It is incredible to me, General," I said, " that the Govern- 
 ment does not send you more troops. They must understand as 
 well as you do that, if the enemy gain the upper Valley, Rich- 
 mond will be seriously threatened." 
 The General shook his head. 
 
 * His words.
 
 150 SUKRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I don't think they have a great deal of confidence in me, Ma- 
 jor," he said ; " and I must do what I can with the force 1 have." 
 
 "Nearly fifty thousand to four thousand! It is monstrous, 
 General!" 
 
 " Our place is to fight, not to count numbers. I intend to 
 oppose the advance of the enemy by every means in my power: 
 the rest I leave in the hands of Providence." 
 
 Soon afterward, I rose to take my leave. 
 
 " To-morrow, if you have nothing for me to do, I will ride 
 over and see my friends in the First Brigade, General," I said. 
 
 Jackson smiled. 
 
 "You must not call it the First Brigade, Major." 
 
 " Why not, General ?" 
 
 " Do you remember General Bee's exclamation at Manassas, 
 as he was rallying his men ?" 
 
 "Perfectly, sir: he pointed to you, and compared you to a 
 stone wall." 
 
 " I see you remember the very word. Well, the men insist 
 upon giving me the nickname of Stonewall ; and they call the 
 old brigade the ' Stonewall Brigade.' " 
 
 " They deserve the name." 
 
 " True ; they are a noble body of men. The name belongs to 
 them, not to me ; and, after this war, the survivors will be proud 
 to say, 'I was a member of the Stonewall Brigade,' to their 
 children."* 
 
 So it was the " Stonewall," not the " First," Brigade, I visited 
 next day, to greet my many old friends there. The aspect of the 
 camps at this time was inexpressibly dreary. They were situated 
 in the great fields north of the town, where the March winds had 
 full sweep ; and, on the morning of my visit, a gust came which 
 prostrated the small " A " tents of a whole regiment. Every 
 thing was bare, bleak, chill, and gloomy. When I reflected that 
 Jackson's only dependence was the small and ragged force shiver- 
 ing in these dilapidated tents, whose torn canvas fluttered 
 drearily in the wind, my heart sank. 
 
 * His words.
 
 THE DISPATCH FROM RICHMOND. 151 
 
 The troops, however, were in perfectly good spirits. I never 
 saw men more ragged or merrier. The smoky canvas dens 
 resounded with songs — and I well remember the gay group 
 around the smouldering sticks in front of our tent, listening to 
 a song whose burden was : 
 
 " Oh ! he was the boy with the auburn hair, 
 And his name it was MacElroy." 
 
 It was sung by a brave youth of the Second Virginia, who af- 
 terward passed gallantly through nearly every battle fought in 
 Virginia ; became orderly sergeant of his company ; and, when 
 it was swept away nearly to the last man, continued to call the 
 roll regularly every morning, going conscientiously over the 
 names of the dead and absent. The "Here!" which he uttered, 
 when calling his own name, was often the sole response to this 
 singular roll-call. 
 
 After passing some hours with my friends, I left them, and 
 rode forward to look at the ground north of Winchester, where 
 the enemy would probably make their attack. 
 
 I was riding along the chill, dreary, and wind-swept turnpike, 
 whose pulverized particles rose with every gust and blinded the 
 eyes, when a courier appeared, coming at full speed from the 
 direction of Martinsburg, and soon reached me. 
 
 "What news?" I said. 
 
 "The enemy are advancing, Major." 
 
 "From Martinsburg?" 
 
 " And Charlestown, both." 
 
 " Who are you from ?" I called after him as he receded. 
 
 " Colonel Ashby." 
 
 The next moment he disappeared in a dust-cloud. 
 
 I at once turned my horse's head, and rode back to General 
 Jackson. When I arrived I found him calmly engaged in issuing 
 orders for the disposition of his forces. The staff were soon 
 riding in every direction, and I assisted in the transmission of 
 the orders — disposing the regiments as directed, and returning 
 toward nightfall. 
 
 So rapid had been the enemy's advance that their infantry
 
 152 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 were now engaged with our cavalry only a few miles from the 
 town. The tiring was rapid and continuous, and it was soon 
 evident that the cavalry required support. A force of infantry 
 was accordingly sent forward to their assistance, and Jackson 
 then drew up his entire command in line of battle, evidently 
 determined to give battle, whatever force was brought against 
 him. 
 
 I was riding with him ahout nightfall, when the firing In 
 front had ceased, and he said, with that quick glitter of the eye 
 which always showed that he was aroused : 
 
 "I do not intend to leave Winchester without a tight. With 
 tho hlessing of Providence, 1 believe T can check, if not drive 
 back, tho enemy's force. At all events, Major, 1 am going to try." 
 
 Ho soon afterward rode hack to head-quarters, drank a glass 
 of milk, and said to mo : 
 
 "I am going into Winchester, Major. If you would like to 
 accompany me, I will make you acquainted with a most estimable 
 family, and we can talk upon the way." 
 
 " I will ho very glad to go, General," was my reply, and wo 
 set forward. 
 
 Jackson stopped before a neat house, on one of the side streets, 
 and, llxing his bridle to tho fence, entered the house, where ho 
 was received and greeted with great cordiality by a clerical look- 
 ing gentleman and his family. 
 
 Our host was in fact the Rev. Mr. G , of tho Presbyterian 
 
 Church, and those who knew the preference which Jackson 
 always exhibited for the society of clergymen will not bo sur- 
 prised at hearing that Mr. G was his chosen friend. 
 
 An hour then passed in friendly conversation, and Jackson 
 then said : 
 
 "With your permission, Mr. G , T will now read a chapter 
 
 in the Bible, and offer a prayer." 
 
 " I will be glad if you would, General." 
 
 Tho books wore brought; Jackson read a chapter with great 
 solemnity, and then all knelt, and he offered up a fervent prayer. 
 
 When ho rose his features wore slightly Hushed, and I observed 
 an animation in his oyos which was unusual.
 
 rilK DISPATOB FROM RICHMOND LW 
 
 Be stood for n moment looking in silence al the family, who 
 were greal favorite* with him, and then, with i martial smile 
 upon his features, suddenly said: 
 
 " Would you like me to tell you b secret, my frlen< 
 
 " \vii:ii is u. General " 
 
 " And yel it "ill ho against all military nil. 
 
 Expectation was in ever] *j e, 
 
 " 1 am going to attack the onotny to night." 
 
 A flutter ran through the auditory. 
 
 " M v force is small," be OOntinued With animation, "hut it will 
 
 ho doubled by tin' suddenness of the attack, shall I prove mj 
 soli' a very hail General bj telling you exaotly what l design I 
 
 Well. 1 am going to llank thoni on Iho Marl in sbui'g POad, ll] Olia 
 hour iVom this (ii no ! Von see thai unless \ on ran pass my [)loketB 
 
 within that time, and warn them, aoharm Is done by bhlsdlsolo 
 sure. Vi's!" be added, with something almost like Joy In bis faoa, 
 
 " 1 shall attack suddenly with mv u hole foroe I 'hall dri\o Ihcm 
 hack and our dear old Winchester w ill not ho at their mercy ! 
 After a lew more words, ullorod in Iho same animated lone I 
 
 had never before seen him so elated the Geuoral bade them 
 
 good night, and WO loll the house.' 
 
 Passing the telegraph offloe on Loudoun street, he .'ailed to 
 the courier on duty there tor any dispatohai. 
 
 "This has jus! this niouioni, arrived, General." 
 
 And a paper was handed him, which he read hv Iho light 
 
 st reaming i brougb 1 1 >»' window. 
 
 Suddenly l saw his brows knit together, and something like 
 gloom overspread bis features. Me orumplod up the paper in 
 
 his hand, dropped It, after his habit, and, growling in the cuiieil 
 tones, "Very good!" rode on, without, uttering another word. 
 
 As wo approached head quartet ; i" said ourtly, in the still' i 
 of military ton. 
 
 " Major Burry, direot General Garnetl and the other ooi and 
 
 ir. to provide the troops immediately with three days 1 cooked 
 rations, and hold themselves In reading ■ to move." 
 
 • QlttoriotL 
 
 7*
 
 154 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I saluted, and Jackson added in the same tone : 
 
 " Then ride on to Colonel Ashby — you will find him on the 
 Martinsburg road — and direct him to hold himself in readiness 
 to withdraw his command through Winchester. I wish this 
 movement to be deliberate — I will have no stampeding." 
 
 I set off rapidly, and, having transmitted the orders to the 
 infantry commanders, rode on to the front, in search of Colonel 
 Ashby. I had some curiosity to see this officer. During my 
 visit to the First Brigade the conversation had turned upon his 
 character, and I had found my friends quite enthusiastic on the 
 subject. They seemed never to tire in relating his exploits. He 
 was unresting, a sleepless war-machine, ready night and day for 
 a raid, an attack, a battle — anything, so that it had "fight " in it. 
 While others slept, he was in the saddle. Seen to-day at one 
 point on his swift white horse — to-morrow he would be at 
 another place, sixty or seventy miles distant, inspecting his 
 pickets, gaining information, and seeing that all was well. 
 Utterly reckless in action, and liking most to " come to the 
 sabre," he was represented as the soul of courtesy and kindness. 
 His men idolized him — he was their ieau ideal of chivalry, and 
 the whole army chanted his praises. 
 
 It is not surprising, therefore, that I was glad of an opportunity 
 to make the acquaintance of the Colonel. The opportunity was 
 at hand. In the extensive fields on each side of the road were 
 seen through the darkness the long lines of Ashby's cavalry in 
 line of battle — every man in the saddle. 
 
 There was always something especially picturesque and war- 
 like, to my eyes, in this spectacle of cavalry at night, drawn up 
 to await or make an attack. While the infantry sleep, the dark 
 figures on their black horses are watching. Only the clank of a 
 sabre now and then, or the shrill neigh of some impatient 
 animal, proves that the long line, silent there in the gloom, is 
 not composed of phantoms. 
 
 But I had no time to indulge in thoughts of the picturesque. 
 I inquired for Colonel Ashby ; was directed to a tree, on a neigh- 
 boring hill, where a small fire glimmered like a star, and soon 
 reached it.
 
 ASHBY. 155 
 
 XLII. 
 
 ASHBY. 
 
 A figuek wrapped in a cloak was lying by the small fire, which 
 the chill March night made far from uncomfortable. 
 
 I could see, as I approached, that tbis personage was reading 
 in a small volume, and, as he raised his head, and the firelight 
 fell upon his face, something on his cheek glittered. 
 m As he rose, I recognized my travelling compani-on on the way 
 to the Valley, who had carried before him the weak beggar-girl, 
 and given me so cordial an invitation to visit him. His beard 
 was blacker and heavier ; his face more swarthy ; his expression 
 deeply sorrowful. But in the cavalry colonel of low stature, clad 
 in gray, with sabre at side, and wearing a hat with a dark feather, 
 I easily recognized my former companion. 
 
 "Colonel Ashby?" I said. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " A message from General Jackson, Colonel. I am glad to see 
 you again, but am afraid you don't remember me." 
 
 I drew nearer as I spoke, into the circle of light. 
 
 " Perfectly, Captain," he said, with much courtesy. "At first 
 the darkness prevented me." 
 
 And, with frank and soldierly grace, he extended his hand, 
 hastily turning aside as he did so, and passing his other hand 
 across his eyes. 
 
 The voice of the speaker was profoundly sad ; but in his air I 
 observed the same high-bred courtesy and kindness. 
 
 In reply to my message, he now said : 
 
 " Then the General intends evacuating Winchester ? I am 
 sorry we are to do so without a fight, and I received orders to 
 prepare for action in an hour. The General's directions will be 
 observed, Captain — I beg your pardon — Major : I think I can 
 promise that my command will fall back in good order." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it, Colonel. I am glad to see you in com- 
 mand of so fine a body of men."
 
 156 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Yes, they are gallant fellows, but I fear I am no disciplina- 
 rian." 
 
 I had thrown my bridle over a bough, and was warming my 
 fingers at the fire. 
 
 My host gave me a seat beside him upon his cloak. 
 
 " I am afraid I disturb you in your reading," I said. 
 
 "Oh! not at all." 
 
 "What book absorbed you so?" 
 
 "I was reading in the Bible," he said, simply, but with his 
 former sadness of tone ; " it is the best resource for the unfortu- 
 nate." 
 
 "Do you class yourself with such, Colonel?" I said. "I 
 should think that, with so fine a command as yours, and your 
 constitutional gayety — which I well remember you showed upon 
 our ride last April— you would regard yourself as any thing but 
 unfortunate." 
 
 " My ' constitutional gayety ' ?" he murmured. " I have none 
 left." 
 
 The accent of the speaker, as he uttered these words, was so 
 mournful, that for an instant I did not reply. 
 
 "Pardon me," I said, at length, "if I have touched some 
 chord which jars. Had I supposed that my words would wound 
 you"— 
 
 " It is nothing," he said, sadly ; " but I am much changed since 
 I saw you. I have lost my brother." 
 
 "Your brother? — but pardon me again. "We will speak of 
 something else." 
 
 " It does not pain me," he replied, with settled sadness. " At 
 times it is a relief to speak of our sorrows to a friend — if you 
 will let me call you such, sir." 
 
 I bowed with as much respect as sympathy, for the voice of 
 this man went to my heart. 
 
 "When I saw you in April, Major," he said, in a low tone, 
 "I had never had any thing to distress me, and doubtless I ap- 
 peared to you gay enough. I lived at that time near Markham's, 
 with my brother Richard, and we passed our lives together. I 
 had no other friend. You should have known him: he was not 8.
 
 ASHBY. 157 
 
 small, plain-looking man, like myself, but tall and imposing, with 
 the eye of an eagle, and a soul that was the very mirror of truth 
 and honor. A braver spirit never breathed — a kinder heart 
 never beat in human bosom. I weary you — but I loved my 
 brother," faltered the speaker, "he was all I had. You see now 
 why I am not so gay as when we met down yonder. I cannot 
 help it — my poor brother is dead." 
 
 A flush came to the swarthy features of the speaker, and the 
 fire-light glittered on a tear which trembled in his eye. 
 
 " They killed him yonder, on the Potomac," he added, in a low 
 voice, " where his company was scouting. He had only a few 
 men with him, and was overpowered. He would not surrender 
 — I never intend to, Major — but fell back, fighting a whole 
 squadron. In crossing the railroad, his horse fell into one of 
 those openings called 'cattle- stops'- — -before he could rise, they 
 were upon him; and can you guess what happened?" said the 
 speaker, in a lower tone than before. 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 " They beat him to death — literally ; riddling his breast with 
 bullets as they did so."* 
 
 The tears were burnt up in the fire which blazed from Ash- 
 by's eyes as he spoke. 
 
 "I came up at the moment," he continued, more calmly, but 
 with gloomy feeling in his voice, " and charged with a few men, 
 killing eleven — but my brother was dead. We buried him on 
 the banks of the Potomac. I am a strong man, but nearly 
 fainted at his grave. Then I came back to my work." 
 
 The deep-toned and sorrowful accents died away. I under- 
 stood all, and realized what a lady afterward said to me — " Ash- 
 by is now a devoted man." 
 
 He preserved silence for some moments, gazing into the fire ; 
 and then, drawing a long breath, as though to relieve himself of 
 some weight upon his breast, made an evident effort to banish 
 his gloom. His former air of gentleness returned, and he said, 
 with an attempt to smile : 
 
 " Pardon all this egotism, Major. The unfortunate are too 
 
 * Historical
 
 158 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 prone to cry out at times, and try to make others share their 
 burden. It is hard to hear alone the weight of that ' perilous 
 stuff that weighs upon the heart.' " 
 
 " Your words have affected me deeply," was my reply. 
 
 " But I should have spared you this recital. The world would 
 be a gloomy place if every unlucky fellow insisted upon retailing 
 his misfortunes to his friends." 
 
 " Sympathy, at least, is something." 
 
 " It is much — almost all that is worth living for. Life is not a 
 very gay affair — in fact, I am rather tired of it. But let me cease 
 this unprofitable talk. It would astonish the rough, brave fel- 
 lows yonder, who think I am laying some plan to entrap the 
 enemy. So we are to withdraw, and without a fight!" 
 
 " You will have charge of the rear." 
 
 " Of course ; and I promise you that, if they press too hard, 
 they shall feel my teeth. But I expected a regular battle. Well, 
 that must come, too, beforedong." 
 
 I rose to go, and said, laughing : 
 
 " You are one of the few men I have met with who look for- 
 ward with pleasure to a battle." 
 
 " I have never seen one — I was not at Manassas," he replied, 
 gently. 
 
 " It is very poor amusement, Colonel, I assure you." 
 
 " But exciting ?" 
 
 " Too much so." 
 
 '•Can any excitement be too great?" was his sad reply, as I 
 got into the saddle ; " it enables us to forget." 
 
 And, saluting me with a movement full of friendly grace, the 
 colonel of cavalry resumed his place by the fire, and recommenced 
 reading his Bible.
 
 I WILL NEVER LEAVE, ETC. 159 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 . "WILL NEVER LEAVE WINCHESTER WITHOUT A FIGHT 
 
 —NEVER, NEVER!" 
 
 When I returned to head-quarters it was nearly midnight. 
 
 The General was absent, and ascertaining that he had ridden 
 into Winchester ten minutes before, I followed and came up with 
 him on Loudoun street. 
 
 To my brief report, his only reply was, " Good." Then he rode 
 on in silence. I had never seen him look more gloomy and de- 
 jected. Supposing that he was going to pay some private visit, 
 I said : 
 
 " Any thing further for me to do, General ?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I will, then, return to head-quarters." 
 
 " Wait a moment — we will ride back together." 
 
 And turning out of Loudoun street, he stopped before Mr. 
 G 's again. 
 
 " Come in," he said, in his brief voice. 
 
 I entered with him, and, as I had expected, found that no one 
 ha.d retired. The announcement of the intended attack upon the 
 enemy had evidently banished sleep from every eyelid. 
 
 Jackson advanced into the apartment, looking so cast down 
 that his expression threw a gloom over every face. His heavy 
 boots seemed to drag over the floor ; his sabre clanked drearily. 
 
 " I have come to tell you good-by," he said, with drooping 
 bead. 
 
 " Good-by ! You are going to leave us, General ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, my dear friends," was his reply. "Since I left 
 you, I have received an order by telegraph to evacuate Winches- 
 ter." 
 
 " From Richmond?" 
 
 He nodded, and I saw his eye glitter. 
 
 "They know best — or think they do."
 
 160 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 These words were uttered so quietly, that it was difficult to 
 perceive the sarcasm under them. 
 
 "lam ordered to fall hack," he continued, with great dejec- 
 tion ; " and perhaps it is best. The attack I intended might cost 
 too much. I cannot sacrifice my men." 
 
 " Oh, General ! you are going to leave us to the Yankees." 
 
 "I must." 
 
 Jackson's head sank upon his breast. Then it suddenly rose, 
 his cheeks flushed hotly, his eye flashed, and, clutching the hilt 
 of his sabre, he drew it a foot from the scabbard, and, rising to 
 his full height, exclaimed : 
 
 "I will never leave Winchester without a fight — never, never !" 
 
 At that moment the appearance of the soldier was superb. 
 His tall figure towered above the group, his eyes darted lightning, 
 his huge nostrils expanded like those of a war-horse "snuffing 
 the battle from afar." 
 
 But the unwonted excitement did not last long ; the color 
 died away from the cheeks, the fire from the eyes. The head of 
 the General again sank, his dejected expression returned, and, 
 driving back his sabre with a clash which rang out harshly in the 
 silence, he said in a gloomy voice : 
 
 " No, I must obey orders — I cannot sacrifice my men. I must 
 go without fighting." 
 
 And he bade farewell to all, grasping the hands of one after 
 the other. 
 
 " Farewell," he said, " and may Providence watch over you." 
 
 I bade our kind host and bis family good-by in my turn, and, 
 riding with General Jackson, who was silent and gloomy still, 
 returned to head-quarters.* 
 
 At daylight, the enemy were in front of the town, and I ex- 
 pected every moment to see Jackson put his army in motion, in 
 obedience to his orders from Richmond, and retire before them. 
 
 He seemed, however, to have no intention of doing any such 
 thing. Instead of falling back, he advanced in full view of the 
 ©nemy, and manned his breastworks on the Martinsburg and 
 
 ♦ This scene is historical.
 
 I WILL NEVER LEAVE, ETC. 161 
 
 Berryville roads. Had the General changed his mind ? "Was he 
 going to fight in defiance of orders, and could there be some 
 truth in the views of those who called him u fool Tom Jackson," 
 and declared that he was " crack-brained " ? In his immediate 
 front was a force of thirty thousand men, ready to advance and 
 crusli his small force of about four thousand ; and, instead of taking 
 steps to retire befure them, as the bravest general in the world 
 might have done without imputation on his nerve, he seemed de- 
 termined to fight them, and die where he was. 
 
 I scanned the countenance of the General curiously, as he rode 
 along the line of earthworks, to ascertain, if possible, what he 
 designed. But no mask could have been more immovable. His 
 face was inscrutable, and never relaxed its expression of calmness 
 and gravity. 
 
 The lines of earthworks now bristled with bayonets; firing 
 was heard in front from the cavalry skirmishers; and I ex- 
 pected every moment to see Ashby retire, and a general battle 
 commence. 
 
 I was speedily to comprehend, however, the design of all this 
 manoeuvring — and from that time, the " crack-brained " theory 
 of the General's character never presented itself to my mind. 
 All at once, at a preconcerted 6ignal, the infantry formed in 
 column, silently withdrew from the trenches, and, moving quietly 
 along the bottom of a sort of ravine in rear of the works, where 
 they were completely concealed from the view of the enemy, took 
 up the line of march westward, and around Winchester. The 
 "Round Hill, 1 ' as an eminence in rear of the town is called, was 
 encircled by the long lines of bayonets, still unseen by the ene- 
 my — the little army advanced steadily, and, again obliquing, 
 struck into the Valley turnpike, about a mile and a half south 
 of the town. 
 
 Jackson had evacuated Winchester, and was completely out of 
 the clutch of his adversaries, at the moment when they were 
 preparing to charge him in his earthworks north of the place. 
 
 The infantry had thus disappeared — and soon the cavalry were 
 seen falling back slowly, in a long, dark line through the town, 
 their rear skirmishing with the advancing enemy.
 
 162 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 A FEAT OF HORSEMANSHIP. 
 
 In falling back, Jackson left absolutely notbing behind for his 
 adversary. Every thing was removed, and the laughing infantry 
 greeted with jests and cheers an enormous railway engine, which, 
 drawn by a long string of horses, moved on with the rest. 
 
 Jackson remained last, and his critical eyes peered in every 
 direction, to discover whether any thing had been forgotten. 
 
 "Is every thing removed, Major?" he said to his chief quar- 
 termaster, Major Harman. 
 
 " Every thing, General." 
 
 " No commissary stores whatever are left?" 
 
 "None, General." 
 
 " And those broken cars at the dep6t ?" 
 
 " They can not be moved." 
 
 " Burn them, Major." 
 
 " I will, at once, sir." 
 
 "And the telegraph wire?" 
 
 "Is cut, sir." 
 
 "But is it removed?" 
 
 "No, General.'] 
 
 "Remove it, Major." 
 
 Jackson then added : " Take your time. I am in no hurry to 
 leave Winchester."* 
 
 Soon, the broken cars were burning, the wire was rolled up 
 and placed in wagons, and the work was complete. 
 
 " Very good," said Jackson, when the report was brought to 
 him ; and he sat down under a tree, and, folding his hands across 
 his breast, fell quietly asleep. 
 
 He had been up all night, and never was able to go without 
 sleep. 
 
 The steady approach of the firing now indicated that the enemy 
 
 * His words.
 
 A FEAT OF HORSEMANSHIP. 163 
 
 were pressing Ashby closely, near the northern suburbs of the 
 town. I rode in that direction, and, reaching the rising ground 
 at the head of Loudoun street, where the remains of the old fort, 
 built by Major George Washington, about 1756, may still be seen, 
 encouutered the cavalry, falling back in good order before the 
 Federal advance. The rear-guard, under personal command of 
 Ashby, who was mounted on a snow-white horse, was dispu- 
 ting obstinately every foot of ground ; the main column mean- 
 while defiling through the streets, to form in line south of the 
 town. 
 
 I had just reached this point, when a sudden rush of the Fed- 
 eral cavalry broke through the rear-guard, and before I knew it, 
 almost, I was by Ashby's side, in the midst of a squadron of 
 blue-coats, banging away with their pistols, and slashing with 
 their sabres. The sweep of Ashby's weapon was magnificent, 
 and he seemed to launch himself from the saddle at every blow. 
 Never had I seen more imperial horsemanship. He and his 
 splendid animal seemed one, and it is impossible to describe his 
 face. It was on fire — the eyes blazed — he looked happy. 
 
 I had no time to bestow upon him more than a glance, how- 
 ever. A sabre-cut nearly uuseated me, aud the blue cordon was 
 all around us, when a determined charge from one of Ashby's 
 squadrons drove back the enemy, and he chased them two hun- 
 dred yards north of the place. 
 
 " Rather close quarters, Major," said Ashby, whose face glowed 
 hotly. " I don't like to be ' crowded.' " 
 
 And, placing himself at the head of his men, he waved his 
 sword, and cried in a clear, calm voice, strikingly in contrast 
 with his irate appearance : 
 
 "Follow me!" * 
 
 Those clear accents seemed to thrill the men. They responded 
 with a wild cheer ; and, driving his white horse to furious speed, 
 Ashby burst upon the Federal line like a tornado. 
 
 Before that furious onslaught, so sudden and desperate, the 
 enemy's cavalry gave way. Ashby was in front of his line, cut- 
 ting right and left with the sabre; and when, a few minutes after- 
 ward, he came back, his white horse dancing on all four feet, as
 
 164 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 the nervous hand reined him in amid a shower of balls, his face 
 was calmer : for the moment he seemed satisfied. 
 
 He continued to retire slowly, and reached the suburbs of the 
 town. The enemy did not at once move forward. The Confed- 
 erate cavalry passed through, and it was not until I reached the 
 southern suburbs that I missed Ashby. 
 
 Turning, I saw him seated on his white horse in the middle of 
 Loudoun street, looking quietly at the Federal cavalry and infan- 
 try pouring into the place. It is impossible to conceive any thing 
 more calmly indifferent than his attitude. He seemed to have 
 taken his place there to witness some peaceful pageant, and to 
 regard the advance of the Federal masses, now nearly in contact 
 with him, with languid curiosity. 
 
 All at once, some shots were fired at him, but he took no no- 
 tice of them. This seemed to enrage the enemy, and a detach- 
 ment charged him at full gallop, firing as they came. 
 
 Ashby waved his hat around his head, uttered a cheer, and 
 then, drawing his revolver, galloped off, firing as he went. 
 
 He had nearly reached the suburbs, when suddenly I saw two 
 Federal cavalrymen issue from a side street, and post themselves 
 in the middle of the street to intercept him. I rode rapidly for- 
 ward to warn him of his danger ; but it was not necessary. He 
 turned, saw them, and charged the two men, with a glow of un- 
 mistakable pleasure upon his features. One fell, shot through 
 the heart; then, his barrels being all emptied, he seized the 
 second by the throat. 
 
 I then witnessed one of those spectacles which are supposed to 
 be confined to romances. Borne on at a furious speed upon his 
 powerful white horse, Ashby dragged his adversary clear out of 
 the saddle, never relaxed his clutch, and in a moment was beyond 
 pursuit, still dragging his prisoner by the side of his horse.* 
 
 A cheer rose from his men as Ashby released the prisoner, and 
 coolly looked to the disposition of his command. His face was 
 again calm ; the sad expression had come back ; and when he 
 said, "Well, Major, they are laughing at us yonder, I suppose, 
 
 * Historical.
 
 so 
 
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 a 
 
 M 
 o 
 
 W 
 o 
 
 H 
 
 W 
 EH 
 
 O 
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 o
 
 THE "FOOT CAVALRY." 165 
 
 by this time," his voice was as sweet and gentle as when speak- 
 ing of his dead brother. 
 
 XLY. 
 
 THE "FOOT CAVALRY." 
 
 I had seen Jackson advance and fight : I was now to see him 
 retreat. The world at large, which judges of every thing super- 
 ficially, undervalues the art of "falling back;" but it is one of 
 the surest evidences of soldiership. Jackson's method of retiring 
 was cool, deliberate, and extorted my admiration. More than 
 ever, I saw in him those resources which make the great soldier. 
 
 Ashby's cavalry brought up the rear, and he had under him a 
 battery of horse artillery, commanded by that gallant young offi- 
 cer, Captain Chew. The roar of these guns was never hushed. 
 It saluted the ears of the infantry, as they lay down in their 
 bivouacs to snatch a few hours of slumber, and was their reveille 
 when they opened their eyes at dawn. 
 
 Mingled with the sullen roar of the guns was heard incessantly 
 almost the sharp crack of carbines, showing that the cavalry 
 skirmishers were engaged. The enemy pressed hotly on the 
 rear ; but Ashby met them with a coolness and an indefatigable 
 vigilance which defeated all their attempts to throw the army 
 into disorder. 
 
 I was much with him in those days, and more than ever ad- 
 mired the great soldier — for such was this man. It was impos- 
 sible to be with him without experiencing both admiration for 
 his great qualities and affection for him personally. He was 
 truly the flower of chivalry, and was as winning by the camp- 
 fire as he was utterly fearless in the field. He was one of those 
 men who seem inaccessible to the emotion of fear. I have often 
 seen him sitting quietly on his milk-white horse, gazing from a 
 hill upon the advancing enemy, who poured upon him a storm 
 of balls — when it was impossible to believe, from his appearance, 
 that he realized his danger. I have seen others do this from
 
 166 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 bravado — but it did not so impress you in Ashby. He seemed 
 to be thinking of something else — but at times the spirit of 
 "fight" came to his face, and he would pace slowly up and 
 down on his white horse, the mark of a hundred bullets, with 
 his face turned disdainfully over his shoulder; or rein in his 
 animal, and, like an equestrian statue, remain in face of the hot 
 fire, completely motionless. 
 
 These scenes were generally followed by a charge, and the 
 flash of Ashby's sabre, as he led it in person. When he fell 
 back after such rencounters, he was quieter than ever. A certain 
 amount of fighting every day seemed necessary to his peace of 
 mind. 
 
 I am not writing a romance, or inventing a hero, worthy 
 reader. Such was Ashby as he lived and moved before me. 
 
 Thus, incessantly fighting with his rear-guard, Jackson con- 
 tinued his retreat up the Valley ; and ere long the enemy seemed 
 to grow weary of the pursuit — their assaults gradually less 
 determined — finally they stopped. They had fallen back to 
 Strasburg ; thence, as scouts reported, to Winchester ; and soon 
 it became obvious to those who had means of acquiring accurate 
 information, that the Federal authorities had determined to give 
 up the idea of an advance by way of the Valley, and concentrate 
 their forces near Fredericksburg, and on the Peninsula, for an 
 advance upon Richmond, 
 
 Accurate information came on the very day the army ceased 
 retreating, near Newmarket. The weary troops had scarcely 
 gone into camp when a courier came at full gallop from Ashby, 
 who held the front toward Strasburg. 
 
 Jackson read the dispatch which he brought with great atten- 
 tion ; reflected as much, probably, as half a minute, and then 
 directed orders to be issued to have the troops ready to march at 
 daylight. 
 
 In their exhausted condition, I thought this utterly impossible 
 — but at dawn the little army of about four thousand men was 
 under arms. Jackson rode along the column, looking keenly from 
 under his faded cap ; and then, placing himself at the head of the 
 troops, took the direction of Winchester.
 
 THE VALUE OF TEN MINUTES. 167 
 
 Without relaxation — stopping for nothing — and at last, accom- 
 panied by only a portion of his force, the rest having broken 
 down from the enormous rapidity of the march, he reached, at 
 three or four o'clock on a raw March evening, the little village 
 of Kernstown, within two or three miles of "Winchester. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 THE VALUE OF TEN MINUTES. 
 
 The troops were so utterly broken down that I did not dream 
 of any further movement that day. The men would stagger, 
 and even fall, if they accidentally placed their feet upon a rolling 
 stone ; they lay down in the road at every momentary cessation 
 of the advance ; and their haggard faces, more than all else, 
 betrayed the immense prostration of the whole command. Under 
 these circumstances, I did not deem it credible, although Ashby 
 had found the enemy in our immediate front, that an attack 
 would be made that day. I did not know Jackson. 
 
 "Major," he said, with great coolness, "the troops seem 
 somewhat tired." 
 
 " They are broken down, General." 
 
 " But they retain their good spirits ?" 
 'Admirably, sir." 
 
 ""Well, I am going to attack." 
 
 As he spoke, Ashby appeared, approaching at full speed, and 
 soon checked his horse and saluted. 
 
 "Any news, Colonel?" 
 
 "Very important, General. I have just received intelligence 
 from one of my scouts, who is entirely reliable, that a column 
 of about fifteen thousand men, under General "Williams, has 
 passed the Blue Ridge, and is making in the direction of the 
 Rappahannock." 
 
 Jackson's eye glittered under his cap, and he moved his head 
 up and down in a way common with him. 
 
 " Any thing further, Colonel?"
 
 168 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I am fighting them in front, and the force here seems larger 
 than we supposed. I think a shell wounded one of their general 
 officers — perhaps my glasses deceived me, however." 
 
 Jackson nodded gravely again, looked thoughtfully toward 
 Winchester, and said : 
 
 "Continue to press them on the turnpike, Colonel, and send 
 me prompt intelligence of any movement. I am going to 
 attack." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, General — I was afraid the troops were 
 too much exhausted." 
 
 " They are very much so — but any delay will give the enemy 
 time to bring up re-enforcements. Besides, the advance of the 
 column under Williams must be arrested." 
 
 Ashby bowed. 
 
 " You desire me, then, to make a determined attack?" 
 
 " I will be glad if you will do so, Colonel. My line of battle 
 will be formed here." Ashby saluted again, disappeared at full 
 gallop, and soon the rapid and continuous firing in front showed 
 that he had attacked with ardor. 
 
 Line of battle was now rapidly formed, and, exhausted as they 
 were, the troops were full of alacrity. The force numbered three 
 thousand muskets, and, I think, about four or five batteries. 
 
 Jackson was rapidly making his dispositions, when a courier 
 from Ashby announced that the enemy were moving to flank his 
 left. The General's quick nod indicated that he had expected 
 this ; and Fulkerson's Brigade, of two regiments, supported by 
 the Stonewall Brigade, was immediately moved rapidly in that 
 direction. Other forces were pushed forward under heavy fire 
 from the Federal guns on a hill in front, and the rattle of 
 musketry on the left soon indicated that the action had begun. 
 
 The battle of Kernstown was fought between the turnpike 
 and the North Mountain, on rolling ground, partly ploughed, 
 partly wooded, and the rest overgrown with broom-straw. The 
 fields were divided by worm-fences and stone walls — that ever- 
 recurring feature of the landscapes of the Valley. 
 
 Jackson hastened to form his line on an elevated piece of 
 ground, and, calling my attention to a heavy stone wall which 
 extended in front of his left, said :
 
 THE VALUE OF TEN MINUTES. 169 
 
 " Tell Colonel Fulkerson to secure that wall." 
 
 I had soon reached the point indicated and delivered my mes- 
 sage, which was followed by an instant advance of Fulkerson's 
 two regiments to gain the desired cover. 
 
 I had not arrived a moment too soon. As his line advanced 
 from the woods into the field, through the centre of which the 
 wall ran between him and his adversaries, the United States 
 flag was suddenly seen in the edge of the woods on the opposite 
 side ; a long surging line of blue coats appeared ; and, like their 
 opponents, they rushed forward to gain the wall. 
 
 The field was several hundred yards in width, and both lines 
 had a race for the prize. The spectacle was exciting. The 
 opposing flags flaunted defiance as their bearers rushed on — the 
 long lines crackled with musketry as they rolled forward — and 
 for a moment it was impossible to decide which would reach the 
 wall first. My heart was in my throat— it was a question of life 
 or death to many a brave fellow that he should gain that cover 
 — with straining eyes I followed the headlong race. 
 
 Suddenly I rose in the saddle and shouted. Fulkerson had 
 gained the wall when the Federal line was within thirty yards 
 of it ; and, dropping on their knees, the men rested muskets on 
 the stonework, and delivered a staggering volley in the very 
 faces of their opponents. 
 
 Then rose a wild cheer. I saw the Federal flag go down. 
 The next moment their whole line broke and retreated, leaving 
 the ground strewed with dead. 
 
 I went to carry the intelligence to Jackson, and found him 
 leading a charge of his centre, composed of the Stonewall 
 brigade — a mere handful to be called by the name — and other 
 troops. It was now obvious that the Federal force in his front 
 was considerable; and, in fact, it was afterward ascertained to 
 number eleven thousand men, of whom about eight thousand 
 were probably engaged. Jackson's force " up " was three 
 thousand and eighty-seven, of which number two thousand 
 seven hundred and forty-two were engaged.* 
 
 ♦See Jackson's report
 
 1<T0 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The sun was now declining, and the blood-red rays began to 
 pour their crimson stream upon the woods, and across the fields 
 of broom-straw waving in the melancholy wind. The battle 
 was raging furiously from end to end of the field, and charge 
 after charge was made by the Federal and Confederate lines- 
 each in turn— while the shell from the opposing batteries raced 
 overhead, crashing amid the timber, or descending on the heads 
 of the combatants in iron showers. I never saw a more deter- 
 mined struggle, and the men of the South fought that day with 
 heroic gallantry. To see raw volunteers maintain their ground 
 with such unflinching nerve was a grand and noble specta- 
 cle ; and the long crash of musketry, rising and falling on the 
 wind, was like the determined and steady fire of veterans up- 
 holding upon some world-famous field the destinies of a nation. 
 And they were all Virginians, if you leave out twenty or thirty 
 Marylanders. The men who fought here were the youths of the 
 Valley, in sight almost of their homes. It was this which must 
 have made them stand so obstinately, and charge with that fierce 
 enthusiasm which nothing could overcome. Three times I saw 
 the Federal banner fall ; and once, as the long gray line rolled 
 forward, blazing everywhere with musketry, I thought, and 
 still think, that the enemy were on the point of giving way. 
 The victorious Southerners were carrying every thing before 
 them then, when suddenly a fresh Federal regiment, which had 
 been lying down behind a crest, rose up and met them with a 
 yell. They Avere forced back by this fresh and thoroughly- 
 ammunitioned line. They slowly retired ; and I remembered the 
 occurrence afterward, when a Federal officer said that the 
 stand made by one of their regiments " alone saved them." 
 
 Thus the battle reeled to and fro upon the bleak fields, and 
 the shades of night began to descend— each line moving still 
 toward the left to outflank its opponents. A sort of fury seemed 
 to inspire the combatants — they fought like tigers. Meanwhile, 
 the thunder of Ashby's guns came in a long, continuous roll 
 from the extreme right on the turnpike, where they were 
 pressing him hard ; and on the extreme left the incessant crash 
 of musketry told how fierce the fight was there.
 
 THE VALUE OF TEN MINUTES. 171 
 
 It was at this critical moment, when the opposing lines had 
 grappled breast to breast, that the old Stonewall Brigade, 
 which had borne the brunt of the fight, was seen to waver and 
 retire. 
 
 Jackson's eyes darted lightning as he galloped to the spot, and, 
 seizing a drummer boy, he growled : 
 
 "Beat the rally!" 
 
 The drum rolled, and the line re-formed. The brave Gar- 
 nett had only ordered it to retire a short distance, as the ammu- 
 nition of the men was entirely expended, and the brigade was 
 re-formed without difficulty under the hot fire. 
 
 But the battle was lost — the enemy's numbers swept every 
 thing. They were closing in rapidly on both flanks, and driving 
 the centre. The day was decided. 
 
 What the eye saw then by the last light of day was an army 
 falling slowly and sullenly back, with a victorious enemy closely 
 pressing them. Jackson was thus fairly beaten — but here is 
 a strange fact : 
 
 I was retreating like the rest, when a cavalry-man, crossing 
 the field at full gallop, recognized me, and asked for General 
 Jackson. 
 
 " A dispatch from Ashby?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 I seized and opened it. There was just light enough in the 
 sky to read it by. 
 
 It was in these words, hastily traced with a pencil : 
 
 " General : — Hold your ground only ten minutes longer, and 
 the enemy will fall back. I have captured a courier from General 
 Shields. His line is ordered to retire. 
 
 " Ashby." 
 
 In five minutes I had found Jackson, and given him the note. 
 He was sitting his horse in the midst of the retreating troops, 
 without exhibiting emotion of any sort ; and read the note from 
 Ashby without moving a muscle in his face. 
 
 " I thought so," was all he said in his curtest tones, as he 
 crumpled up and dropped the paper. " It is too late."
 
 172 SUKRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 And he turned his horse's head and rode on with the retiring 
 forces. We were approaching Newtown, about five miles 
 from the field, when the voice of Major Harman, chief quarter- 
 master, was heard in the darkness. 
 
 " Where is your train, Major ?" was Jackson's brief question. 
 
 " Gone to the rear, General." 
 
 " Bring it back." 
 
 Major Harman bowed and was moving off. 
 
 " See that rations are issued to the men — they will camp here 
 to-night."* 
 
 And he rode on. Darkness had now fully descended, and the 
 enemy, who had steadily followed, came to a halt. They seemed 
 to fear the presence of reserves — and upon this Jackson, no 
 doubt, counted. He certainly betrayed no sort of intention to 
 hurry away from the dangerous proximity, and the men were 
 soon ordered to halt, build fires, and cook rations. It was a 
 picturesque spectacle — the long lines of twinkling fires far down 
 the turnpike, and the dusky groups laughing and jesting around 
 them. 
 
 Jackson sat down by a fire, so near the enemy that we could 
 hear the men talking around their fires. Here he dictated his 
 orders : these directed the troops to move at daylight. 
 
 While thus engaged, some intrusive personage, who had 
 strolled up, said : 
 
 " A bad day, General." 
 
 " I feel very well,"t was the curt response, accompanied by a 
 look which checked all further words. The General then went 
 on munching a piece of corn-bread, which he had taken from 
 his pocket, and giving his orders. Having finished, he picked 
 up an armful of corn which was lying in the road, and, carrying 
 it to a fence corner where his horse was standing, gave it to the 
 animal. Here some rails bad been collected and a fire kindled; 
 and saying to Major Pendleton, his adjutant-general, " wake 
 me up at four in the morning, Major," he wrapped himself in 
 his blanket, stretched himself upon the ground, and immediately 
 fell asleep. | 
 
 * Historical. t Ilis words. } Historical.
 
 THE WOINDED OFFICER. 173 
 
 Before daylight he had mounted his horse, and the forces 
 were in motion, retreating up the Valley. 
 
 Such was the hattle of Kernstown — a hard fight, and fair 
 defeat. " But such was the discipline of Jackson's forces," says 
 General Shields in his report, "that at no time during the fight 
 or retreat did they give way t© panic." 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 THE OFFICER "WHOM ASHBY HAD "WOUNDED. 
 
 I was riding by General Jackson, when he suddenly reined in 
 his horse, and for a moment seemed lost in reflection. 
 
 "I do not like to leave my wounded," he said, " and my dead 
 unburied." 
 
 He looked toward Winchester, and added, turning all at once 
 to me : 
 
 "I wish you would attend to this, Major." 
 
 " I any way you indicate, General." 
 
 " Well, suppose you try if they will let you remain under a flag 
 of truce. General Shields may consent to it. You can appeal to 
 our friends among the citizens to do what I cannot." 
 
 I saluted, and was going. 
 
 "Stay, I will give you your credentials." 
 
 And, tearing a sheet from his note-book, he wrote in pencil : 
 
 "General: — The bearer, Major Surry, of my staff, is sent to 
 superintend the burial of my dead in the action yesterday, and 
 look after the wounded. I have the honor to request that he 
 may be permitted to pass your lines for that purpose. He will 
 give any parole you require. 
 
 " Very respectfully, your obedient servant, 
 
 "T. J. Jackson, 
 Muj.-GenH Gom'd'g G S. Forces:' 
 
 " I think that will answer, Major." 
 "Any further instructions,, General?"
 
 174 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "None. I rely upon your good judgment and discretion." 
 
 He held out his hand, gave mine a friendly grasp, and, 
 adding, "I shall expect you back soon," rode on toward Stras- 
 burg. 
 
 I turned my horse's head toward "Winchester, and rode through 
 the dim light in the direction of the enemy, whose camp-fires 
 were glimmering upon the hills in front. 
 
 Ere long I encountered the dark masses of Ashby's cavalry, 
 drawn up across the road in line of battle to cover the rear of 
 the retreating army. Their commander was in the saddle, on 
 the turnpike, listening for any movement. 
 
 "Well, Major," he said, in his gentle voice, "this is rather an 
 ugly business, but we gave them a good hard fight." 
 
 "Yes— it is a pity we could not have held our ground a little 
 longer." 
 
 "I see you read my dispatch." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Shields would have fallen back in a few minutes. I know 
 this to be so."* 
 
 "Well, he is going, instead, to follow us up; but I don't ex- 
 pect to be with you this time." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I am sent back — if I can get through the Federal line." 
 
 And I explained my orders. 
 
 "It is day," was Ashby's reply, as he looked up ; "yon can 
 go to their picket without danger. I will pass you through my 
 own." 
 
 And he rode with me through his own picket, until we were 
 in sight of that of the enemy, where, with a grasp of the hand, 
 we parted. 
 
 Waving a white handkerchief, I approached the Federal picket, 
 and was halted by the vedette, who passed the word to his offi- 
 cer. 
 
 T explained my object to the officer, who was a very courteous 
 person, and, not to weary the reader with the various personages 
 
 * Mis words.
 
 THE WOUNDED OFFICER. 175 
 
 whom I was carried before in succession, was conducted to a 
 house some miles in the rear. Here I found General Shields 
 lying upon a sofa, with his arm in a bandage. 
 
 "Major Surry, I believe," was his formal greeting. 
 
 "Yes, General." 
 
 "From General Jackson?" 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " Your object in coming into my lines is to superintend the 
 burial of your dead, and the care of the wounded ?" 
 
 I bowed again. 
 
 " If not contrary to your views, I would be glad to secure that 
 permission, General." 
 
 He evidently hesitated, but at last said: 
 
 " "Well, I shall grant General Jackson's request, sir, though the 
 whole affair is irregular. One of my staff will accompany and 
 assist you." - 
 
 And he sent an orderly for the officer. 
 
 " Were you in the action yesterday, Major ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " It was a hot affair. I confess I should like to know, as a 
 matter of pure curiosity, what numbers you had engaged." 
 
 I began to laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! that would not interest you. General." 
 
 " I see you refuse to tell me. I asked from pure curiosity, 
 and only wished to know if I was right in estimating the foro at 
 fifteen thousand." 
 
 To this I made no reply. 
 
 "General Jackson is a hard fighter," he continued; "and Gen- 
 eral Ashby, of your cavalry, handles mine rather roughly. I am 
 indebted to him for this wound." 
 
 Here the staff officer who had been sent for entered and 
 saluted the General, who instructed him to ride with me to the 
 battle-field, and render me any assistance, returning with me in 
 the evening to his head-quarters. 
 
 " Major Surry will not be allowed to communicate with any 
 one," he added, "except upon the subject of his mission." 
 
 I bowed, and was leaving the room, when the General said :
 
 176 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " By the by, Major, what did General Jackson think of yester- 
 day's fight ? Does he acknowledge himself fairly whipped ?" 
 
 The temptation was irresistible to fire a parting shot : 
 
 "He has some curious ideas about the action, General." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 "He believes, among other things, that, if he had held his 
 ground a little longer, you would have retreated from the field." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" 
 
 " And even that you had actually issued the order for your 
 line to fall back." 
 
 The General uttered a constrained laugh. 
 
 " What could have put such an absurd idea in anybody's head, 
 Major ? But I am detaining you." 
 
 As he spoke, the sound of firing came from the front — the 
 long roll of the opposing batteries. 
 
 "I must go there," muttered the General, as I left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Accompanied by my elegantly dressed companion, a young 
 officer of the staff, I now rode toward the scene of the late 
 action — the firing in front growing heavier, but gradually re- 
 ceding as we went along. 
 
 XLYIII. 
 
 THE DEATH-TRENCHES. 
 
 A shoet ride brought us to the battle-field of the preceding 
 day. The scene which greeted my eyes was heart-rending. 
 
 The citizens of Winchester had already been at work, and 
 long trenches had been dug to receive the Confederate dead. 
 They were still busily at work ; and near at hand were detach- 
 ments of Federal soldiers engaged in the same duty toward tbeir 
 own. 
 
 The blustering March wind blew, chill and cutting, over the 
 great fields of broom-straw, which gave forth a rustling sigh, 
 like that from some host of invisible mourners; the sky was
 
 THE DEATH-TRENCHES. 177 
 
 overcast by a curtain of dark clouds, through which the dim 
 light of day scarcely struggled ; and on all sides, to render the 
 depressing influence of the scene complete, were the wounded, 
 thy dying, and the dead. 
 
 There was one feature of the spectacle, however, which affected 
 me more than all the rest. 
 
 With the mayor and citizens of Winchester, there had come 
 forth to the battle-field a number of ladies. Their object was to 
 seek for friends or relatives among the corpses — for Jackson'a 
 forces were almost wholly from the Valley ; and these mourners 
 now passed from group to group of bodies, trying to recognize 
 some husband, father, or brother among the dead. 
 
 As the corpses were brought up, carried by two men holding 
 the feet and shoulders, to be deposited in the death-trench, the 
 veiled figures bent down, peering with deep sobs in the faces of 
 the dead ; and, as some relative or friend was identified, a wail 
 would rise upon the air, which sent a thrill even through the 
 Federal officers who were present. 
 
 I was standing with my companion, the young staff-officer, 
 near the death-trench, superintending the work, when suddenly 
 a beautiful girl, of not more than fifteen or sixteen, with profuse 
 auburn curls and a figure as fragile as a blossom, rushed forward 
 from the group, and, throwing herself upon her knees beside the 
 corpse of a boy just brought up, burst into such an agony of 
 weeping, that her heart seemed about to break. 
 
 "O brother!' 1 she exclaimed, "they have killed you! I 
 thought you were spared 1 O God, they have killed my bro- 
 ther!" 
 
 And with both arms round the body of the boy, whose lips 
 were smiling even in death, she drew the cold face close to her 
 own, and covered it with passionate kisses. 
 
 " Oh, I will never see him any more!" sobbed the girl in an 
 agony of grief ; u he will never more speak to me! My dear, 
 dear brother, that I loved so! Oh, my heart will break! Bro- 
 ther! brother! Oh, my poor dead brother !" 
 
 And, half-fainting on the corpse, she seemed about to expire 
 from excoss of grief. 
 8*
 
 178 SURKY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 My companion, the young staff-officer, put his handkerchief to 
 his eyes : 
 
 " This is terrible, Major," he said. 
 
 And stepping forward, he said to the young lady : 
 
 "Don't cry so — you cannot bring him back!" 
 
 The girl raised her wet face, over which fell the disordered 
 curls all dabbled in tears; but, at sight of the officer in his 
 elegant Federal uniform, her cheeks suddenly filled with blood, 
 and her eyes flashed. 
 
 Rising with a bound almost to her feet, her figure grew stiil 
 and erect as an arrow, and she exclaimed with passionate 
 vehemence : 
 
 " What right have you to speak to me ! Yon killed him 1 
 But for you, he would be alive to love me now !" 
 
 The young officer almost recoiled before this outburst. 
 
 " Yes, you killed him !" exclaimed the girl. " Why did your 
 people invade our country, and kill him for defending it 1 
 But you will never conquer us! We will never yield ! We will 
 shed the last drop of our blood before you shall trample on us!" 
 
 As she uttered these words, the girl was superb in her passion- 
 ate grief and scorn. Her eyes blazed through the hot tears, and 
 the red lips, half-parted, showed the small white teeth close 
 set together. Never shall I forget that face. 
 
 She was led away by her friends ; my young companion looked 
 after her with a troubled glance, which indicated how much 
 her grief had moved him ; and the work of burying the dead 
 proceeded as before.* 
 
 By sunset the bodies were all interred — those of soldiers 
 related to families in the vicinity having been removed for pri- 
 vate interment — and the wounded were all in hospital at Win- 
 chester. I accordingly bade my friend the mayor and his as- 
 sistants farewell, and returned with my companion to General 
 Shields's head-quarters, where, however, I did not find him. The 
 lady of the house supplied me with a comfortable supper and 
 bed ; and on the next day an orderly brought a note from Gene- 
 
 * These goenes are historical.
 
 THE SECOND RETREAT. 179 
 
 ral Shields, summoning the young officer and myself to Stras- 
 hurg. 
 
 As we approached that place, we encountered the Federal 
 army slowly falling back toward Winchester, and an officer from 
 General Shields informed me that I was free to return to Gene- 
 ral Jackson. 
 
 I rode along the blue line, my gray uniform subjecting me to 
 numerous gibes, and at last found myself alone on the turnpike. 
 From a hill I looked back. Heavy detachments of Federal sol- 
 diers were felling trees, dragging them to the road, and barri- 
 cading the turnpike in the rear of their column.* 
 
 XLIX 
 
 THE SECOND RETREAT. 
 
 Rejoicing the Confederate column near Woodstock, I made my 
 report, with which the General seemed well satisfied, and then 
 informed him of the barricades erected in the enemy's rear. 
 
 He smiled grimly. 
 
 " Then we are not so badly defeated, after all, Major." 
 
 "It seems they fear, at least, that you will return." 
 
 44 1 accomplished my object. General Williams has come back, 
 with fifteen thousand men, to the Valley." 
 
 " What force did you fight at Kernstown, General ?" 
 
 "About eight thousand, I think. Scouts report eleven thou- 
 sand in all at Winchester before the action." 
 
 " Well, that gives an aggregate of twenty-six thousand, kept 
 here by an attack from three thousand. I think it was worth 
 what it cost." 
 
 And the conversation turned upon something else. 
 
 The army continued, its retreat until it reached Rude's Hill, a 
 lofty elevation near Mount Jackson, and here it went into camp 
 and rested. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 180 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 About the middle of April, information came developing the 
 Federal plan of campaign for the coming spring. Richmond was 
 to be attacked from every quarter. General McOlellan, with an 
 army of more than one hundred thousand men, was to advance 
 from the Peninsula, between the James and York ; General Mc- 
 Dowell was to march from Fredericksburg, with forty thousand 
 men, and unite with McOlellan's right on the Ohickahominy ; and 
 in tbe Valley, not less than three heavy columns were to assail 
 Jackson. General Milroy was to advance from the mountains 
 west of Staunton ; General Fremont from the northwest ; and, 
 General Banks, from Winchester, straight up the Valley. 
 
 Uniting near Harrisonburg or Staunton, these three columns 
 were to drive Jackson before them, pursue him to the low coun- 
 try, and, joining General McDowell's right, as he had joined Mc- 
 Olellan, encircle the Confederate capital with a cordon of bayo- 
 nets. Then exit the Confederacy. 
 
 This plan became developed, as I have said, about the middle 
 of April, when Jackson received intelligence that Generals Mil- 
 roy, Fremont, and Banks were all in motion. The first was 
 approaching from Monterey ; the second pressing toward Rom- 
 ney ; and General Banks was rapidly advancing with a heavy 
 force from Winchester. 
 
 " They seem determined to drive me from the Valley, Major," 
 said Jackson, when this intelligence came; "but, with God's 
 blessing, I hope to hold my ground, if not drive them back." 
 
 The hope seemed desperate to me — and yet it did not. I had 
 begun to believe in Jackson, like his men. In spite of the un- 
 doubted defeat which he sustained at Kernstown, the troops had 
 conceived the very highest admiration for him. Whenever he 
 appeared on his old sorrel, in his dingy uniform, they cheered 
 him wildly ; and an officer told me that, on the day after the 
 battle, the men " went crazy about him." * 
 
 From Kernstown dated that ardent -.personal attachment of 
 the troops to their leader — a fac£ which I never could explain. 
 Many among the officers who had been with General Loring con- 
 
 * Historical.
 
 THE CHASE AFTER MILROY. 181 
 
 tinued to sneer at him as " crack-brained ;" but the men would 
 not be persuaded. They cheered him obstinately whenever ho 
 appeared. 
 
 General Banks now pressed forward. His column reached tho 
 little village of Edinburg ; and Jackson broke up his camp at 
 Rude's Hill, and crossed into Elk Run Valley. Here he could 
 face all his enemies, and retreat, if necessary, upon Richmond. 
 
 But that I knew he intended to do only in the last resort. 
 
 THE CHASE AFTER MILROY. 
 
 T had gone to carry a message to Colonel Ashby, and spent 
 the night with him on the outpost, when on my return I found 
 the infantry in motion, and soon discovered that Jackson, 
 now re-enforced by General Ewell's division from Johnston's 
 army, was going, with a portion of his army, to attack General 
 Milroy, who had already crossed the Shenandoah Mountain, 
 west of Staunton, to form a junction with General Banks at 
 Harrisonburg. 
 
 The column was moved with great rapidity — by railway, partly 
 — and, advancing steadily westward, reached, on a bright even- 
 ing, the slope of the Bull Pasture Mountain — the enemy retiring 
 before them. 
 
 Here General Milroy's advance force was met and driven back, 
 and on the next morning Jackson rapidly advanced into the 
 narrow defile on the western side of which was the Valley of 
 McDowell, occupied in force by his adversary. 
 
 The battle of McDowell — upon which I shall not dwell long 
 — was an obstinate struggle for the possession of Sutlington's Hill, 
 a lofty eminence on the southern side of the gorge, and com- 
 manding the valley in which General Milroy was posted. 
 
 The quick eye of Jackson saw speedily that this was the 
 key of the whole position, and ho lost no time in hurrying for-
 
 182 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 ward bis regiments, as they came up, to secure possession of 
 it. Such was the roughness of the ground — a steep mountain- 
 side, with huge masses of rock cropping out at every step — that 
 no artillery could be gotten to the crest ; and the infantry, even, 
 were compelled to march in single file, winding in and out among 
 the huge rocks of the gorge. 
 
 Scarcely had the few regiments thus hurried forwai'd formed 
 a thin line of battle on the hill, when the Federal forces, which 
 had promptly massed in front, were thrown against them, and 
 a furious conflict commenced for the coveted position. A heavy 
 column was first hurled against Jackson's left, but, after a fieroe 
 conflict, was repulsed. Then the dark masses were seen to with- 
 draw from that quarter and concentrate in front of the Confed- 
 erate right. An assault more determined than the first followed, 
 to turn that flank ; and in an instant the opposing lines had come 
 together with a crash which resembled the furious roar of a 
 mountain storm. The rattle of musketry and the bellowing of 
 the Federal artillery reverberated from the rocky sides of the 
 gorge, until the ears were deafened, and the opposing lines dis- 
 appeared in a heavy cloud, which concealed completely the 
 whole struggle. 
 
 Suddenly the long-sustained yell, heard from the Southern 
 troops whenever they gained a success, rose clear and ringing 
 from the slope, and then a wind swept back the smoke — the set- 
 ting sun lit up the scene — and the Federal line was seen falling 
 back, pursued by its adversaries. 
 
 This was General Milroy's last attempt. lie did not renew the 
 struggle to gain possession of the hill. 
 
 With the coming darkness, the battle ceased, and the men lay 
 down in line of battle, ready to advance and attack at daylight. 
 
 The enemy did not await the assault. Toward day, the woods 
 in the valley were discovered to be on fire — the flames roared 
 aloft, forming a magnificent spectacle — and when skirmishers 
 were thrown forward, the Federal camps were found to be 
 deserted. 
 
 General Milroy had fallen back hastily, to avoid the heavy 
 blow which he foresaw would be struck at him on the return of
 
 THE CHASE AFTER MILROY. 183 
 
 day ; and was soon discovered to be in full retreat toward the 
 town of Franklin. 
 
 Jackson rapidly pursued him, and reached Franklin. Here, 
 however, the pursuit ceased. The Federal forces were found 
 posted in a strong position on the mountain spurs near at hand 
 — and again General Milroy set the woods on fire, to conceal his 
 movements. From the dense smoke which rose, darkening the 
 whole horizon, came the dull roar of artillery and the shriek of 
 shell. 
 
 Jackson had accomplished his design of preventing the junc- 
 tion between Generals Milroy and Banks ; and to attack his ad- 
 versary, thus strongly posted amid the mountain fastnesses, was 
 no part of his plan. He accordingly issued orders to the troops 
 to prepare for marching back. 
 
 Before this movement commenced, however, a solemn cere- 
 mony of prayer and thanks took [dace in the army. 
 
 The scene was imposing. In the wild amphitheatre, sur- 
 rounded by fir-clad mountains, the little army was drawn up, as 
 though in line of battle, and prayers were offered by the chap- 
 lains. As they spoke — the men listening with bent heads, un- 
 covered — the dull roar of artillery was heard in front ; and, when 
 the speakers ceased, the solemn thunder of the guns filled up the 
 pauses. Overhead was the bright sun in a blue sky — the mus- 
 kets, neatly stacked in long rows, shone in the sunshine — soon 
 every man had taken his piece, and the column was ready to 
 march. 
 
 Returning over the same road, and repassing the Bull Pasture 
 Mountain, Jackson obliqued to the left, and advanced upon Har- 
 risonburg. 
 
 As he approached that place, intelligence reached him that 
 General Banks had fallen back to Strasburg.
 
 184 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 LI. 
 
 THE ADVANCE. 
 
 I was riding beside Jackson when he received the intelligence 
 of General Banks's retreat. He had been carelessly glancing, as 
 he rode along, at a copy of a Northern newspaper captured hy 
 one of Ashby's scouts; and I saw a grim smile touch upon his 
 features — then fly away. 
 
 " The retreat of General Banks is rather curious, after this par- 
 agraph, Major," he said. 
 
 And he handed me the paper, pointing with his finger to a few 
 lines under the head of "Telegraphic." 
 
 It was a dispatch from General Banks to the authorities at 
 Washington, dated from Harrisonburg a few days before, an- 
 nouncing that " the rebel Jackson had left the Valley, and was in 
 full retreat on Richmond."* 
 
 I had scarcely finished reading the paragraph, when Jackson 
 said to his adjutant-general, the brave Major Pendleton: 
 
 "Major, write an order directing General Ewell to join me, 
 without loss of time, at Newmarket, with his entire command. 
 Say 'without loss of time,' Major." 
 
 The order was immediately written and dispatched, and Jack- 
 son continued his way, reaching Harrisonburg, and thence press- 
 ing forward to Newmarket. 
 
 General Ewell promptly appeared at the rendezvous with his 
 strong division, and Jackson met him with great cordiality. He 
 was a man past middle age, with black hair, beard, and mustache, 
 with a thin, erect figure, sparkling black eyes, and a manner ab- 
 rupt and decisive. The General differed in two features then 
 from his subsequent self. He had not received his severe wound 
 in the knee, and he swore, apparently from inveterate habit. It 
 was hard, afterward, to recognize in the pale, thin invalid, com- 
 manding a great army corps, and scrupulously decorous in all his 
 utterances, the bluff, abrupt soldier of the Valley campaign. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 THE ADVANCE. 185 
 
 "Well, General," he said, "here I am. Mv division is up." 
 
 " Thanks for your promptness, General." 
 
 "Banks has retreated to Strasburg." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And you are about to follow him?" 
 
 "I think I ought to." 
 
 "By what route?" 
 
 " "Well, we ought to take the best we can find." 
 
 It was obvious that Jackson would not communicate his inten- 
 tions even to his division commanders. They complained of this 
 more than once; but the reader will remember the words of the 
 General heretofore recorded : " If my own coat knew what I 
 designed, I would take it off and burn it." 
 
 On the next day all was ready for the forward movement, now 
 plainly decided upon. Jackson had under him nearly twenty 
 thousand excellent troops, including some additional cavalry; 
 and the reader need not be told that such a man, with such a 
 weapon in his grasp, was not apt to let it remain idle. Orders 
 were issued that every species of baggage should be left behind, 
 even the knapsacks — and the most ignorant man in the forces 
 then knew that Jackson was "stripping for a fight." 
 
 At daylight, the long column of infantry and artillery Avas in 
 motion — toward the "Newmarket Gap," leading into the Luray 
 Valley. 
 
 E well's question, so skilfully evaded, was thus answered. 
 Jackson was going to attack his adversary in flank and rear. 
 
 Take the map of Virginia, my dear reader, and you will un- 
 derstand Jackson's design more clearly, at a single glance, than 
 from the most labored explanation. You will see that Strasburg, 
 where General Banks had fortified, is eighteen miles south of 
 Winchester, on the main Valley turnpike, and that along the east 
 side of this turnpike runs the Massinutton Mountain. On the 
 opposite side of the mountain — between it and the great wave 
 of the Blue Eidge — is the " Luray Valley," leading to Front 
 Royal, directly on the flank of Strasburg. If Jackson could 
 amuse his adversary by cavalry demonstrations on the main 
 Valley road, while he rapidly advanced down the Luray Valley
 
 186 SURRY OP EAGLE'S-NBST. 
 
 and gained Front Royal, he might hope to pass that point — inter- 
 pose himself between Strasburg and Winchester — and force 
 General Banks to surrender, or fight his way through to the 
 Potomac. 
 
 Jackson was now swiftly advancing to the accomplishment of 
 this bold and vigorous conception. The troops moved rapidly 
 across the Shenandoah, and through Newmarket Gap ; pressed 
 forward down the Luray Valley, under a burning May sun ; and 
 at nightfall threw themselves upon the ground, completely ex- 
 hausted, within ten miles of Front Royal. 
 
 Before daylight, Jackson was in the saddle, and his advance 
 force hurried forward to attack the Federal garrison in the 
 town. 
 
 The assault was sudden and decisive. The Federal cavalry 
 galloped pell-mell through the streets, striking fire from the 
 pavement, and the Confederates rushed in with cheers, amid 
 waving handkerchiefs and tumultuous outcries of rejoicing from 
 the inhabitants. The Federal forces made a brief stand on the 
 elevated ground beyond, and endeavored to destroy the bridge 
 over the Shenandoah. J3ut they were furiously attacked by 
 the advance force ; the bridge was saved ; and the army rapidly 
 crossed the river. 
 
 Jackson was now directly on his adversary's flank, and a few 
 hours would enable him to reach the Federal rear and cut off 
 their retreat. But the strength of the human machine under 
 this great engineer began to fail — the wheels commenced to 
 creak. The immensely hard march of the two last days, under 
 a burning sun, had filled the road with stragglers, unable to keep 
 up ; and those who remained in the ranks were exhausted. To 
 concentrate for battle, and rest his entire force, Jackson ordered 
 a halt ; and again, at nightfall, the troops lay down in the roads 
 and fell asleep, clutching their muskets.
 
 A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 187 
 
 LI I. 
 
 A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 
 
 Stretching myself on the ground, under a tree, I fell soundly 
 asleep, like the rest ; but a little after midnight I felt a hand on 
 my shoulder, and, opening my eyes, saw General Jackson. 
 
 " I wish you to ride with me, Major." 
 
 I buckled on my belt, threw my cape over my shoulders, and 
 mounted my horse, which stood ready saddled near. 
 
 " I can get no intelligence from the front," said the General, 
 as we rode on through the darkness, " but something tells me 
 that General Banks has discovered our presence here, and is 
 retreating." 
 
 "It is more than probable, General." 
 
 "I am going to see." 
 
 And pushing on rapidly over the deserted roads, we came to 
 Ashby's cavalry picket, in command of a lieutenant. 
 
 "Where is General Ashby?" 
 
 "To the left, on the road to Strasburg, General." 
 
 ''True. Is there any thing in front of you ?" 
 
 "Nothing, General — this is the outside picket." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 And the General rode by the vedette, with the words : 
 
 "Don't fire on me as I come back." 
 
 I followed, and we rode on some distance in silence. 
 
 "Ashby is obeying his orders to keep a good lookout on the 
 road from Strasburg to Front Royal, to prevent the retreat of 
 the enemy in that direction," the General now said, half to him- 
 self; " but I think the danger is here." 
 
 We rode on in silence, following the country road, now passing 
 through wide fields, now under the shade of forests. 
 
 From time to time Jackson checked his horse and listened. 
 At the third pause of this description, we distinctly heard a 
 distant rumbling, resembling that caused by artillery or wagona 
 moving over the hard surface of a turnpike.
 
 188 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I knew it!" were the quick words of the General ; "but let 
 us he certain." 
 
 And, galloping rapidly toward the sound, we reached a hill, 
 separated by a narrow valley from the elevated ground over 
 which ran the Valley turnpike. 
 
 The sound had become a continuous jarring rumble of wheels, 
 jingling of artillery chains, clash of hoofs, and that low shuffling 
 sound which comes from large bodies of infantry in motion, 
 Against the sky, beyond the hill, we clearly made out the long, 
 dark lines of infantry, cavalry, artillery, and wagons. General 
 Banks was retreating upon Winchester. 
 
 Jackson wheeled his horse, and dug the spur into his side. 
 
 "Come, Major!" he exclaimed, with unwonted excitement, 
 " no time is to be lost !" 
 
 As he spoke, the shrill neigh of a horse was heard from a clump 
 of woods on the left, and at the next moment a scouting party 
 of Federal cavalry, moving on the flank of their column, appeared 
 in the road. 
 
 "Halt!" was the quick order of the officer at their head, aa 
 we darted off. 
 
 A sudden volley succeeded ; and the carbine balls whistled 
 around. 
 
 No response followed the order to halt — then was heard the 
 furious clash of hoofs behind us. The cavalry was in hot pursuit. 
 
 In five minutes they were so close that I heard the heavy 
 breathing of their horses. 
 
 " Halt ! halt!" came again, accompanied by a volley of impre- 
 cations from the officer behind. 
 
 I replied by firing at him, but without striking him. 
 
 It was now obvious that, unless we left the road, we would 
 inevitably be captured, and I said as much to the General. 
 
 ""Well," Avas his brief response, in the quick, curt tone which 
 characterized him, " let us leave it." 
 
 " Shall we try that stone wall, General ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 I cleared the wall, and the General followed, receiving a vol- 
 ley as he rose to the leap. We had got over, and were in a field ;
 
 oo 
 oo 
 
 y 
 
 o 
 
 7.' 
 
 W 
 o 
 
 <J 
 
 y 
 o
 
 A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 189 
 
 but the wall wa3 instantly torn down, and the whole detach- 
 ment scrambled over, and pressed forward as hotly as before. 
 
 All at once a by-road, leading into the woods, appeared in 
 front, and we struck into this at a headlong gallop. 
 
 "Halt! who goes there!" suddenly cried a voice in front, 
 which I recognized as Ashby's. 
 
 "Friends!" 
 
 And, reaching his side, I pointed to the Federal cavalry about 
 two hundred yards behind. 
 
 Ashby recognized the General, understood all at a glance, and, 
 by a movement as quick as thought, drew up his small escort on 
 the side of the road, beneath the shadow of the trees. 
 
 The next moment the Federal cavalry thundered by, and, as 
 their rear passed him, A.shby gave the ringing order : 
 
 "Charge!" 
 
 A volley was poured into the Federal detachment, throwing 
 them into the wildest disorder — Ashby charged them sabre in 
 hand — and in three minutes the whole party were captured. 
 
 Jackson seemed to have forgotten the whole affair in a moment 
 after the cessation of the firing. 
 
 "General," he said, with great animation, "the enemy are re- 
 treating rapidly toward Winchester. Get your entire command 
 together, and move toward Middletown, on the left of the main 
 body. Major, is your horse fresh?" 
 
 "Perfectly, General." 
 
 " Go back and tell my column to move forward at once ! I 
 wish General Ewell to advance by the Newtown road — the rest 
 by the way we came to-night. Lose no time ! General, get 
 your cavalry here quickly !" 
 
 I have rarely seen Jackson more animated. I went at full 
 speed to carry the order, and, at the same moment, Ashby's 
 couriers were seen scattering in every direction to concentrate 
 the cavalry at the point ordered. 
 
 The General's directions were promptly sent to the different 
 commanders, and in an hour the whole army was in motion — 
 one column, under Ewell, advancing as ordered, by the road to 
 Newtown — the other directly toward Middletown.
 
 190 SUEEY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Jackson took personal command of the latter, and at daylight 
 reached the hill which we had reconnoitred from during the 
 night. The road in front was black with General Banks's army 
 in full retreat. Jackson had struck the columns in transitu. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 JACKSON RETURNING TO "HIS PROPERTY." 
 
 Autillery was immediately hurried forward, and a furious 
 fire opened on the column. The scene which followed was 
 striking. At one moment the turnpike was black with the long 
 lines of Federal cavalry and artillery moving rapidly toward 
 Winchester — and then, as the cannon suddenly opened their grim 
 mouths, and the shell tore through the Federal column, the 
 cavalry broke in a panic, scattered in every direction, and the 
 dark figures disappeared like flying phantoms in the wood9. 
 Where an instant before had been seen the long dense column, 
 you could now discern only horses writhing in the agonies of 
 death, and the forms of the dead and dying. 
 
 The Federal artillery and infantry, which brought up the rear, 
 was cut off, and made vain efforts to defend itself. The guns 
 took position and opened furiously, but Taylor's infantry charged 
 them ; they were hastily limbered up, and then were seen thun- 
 dering, at full gallop, back toward Strasburg, from which place 
 they escaped with the infantry to the western mountains. 
 
 Ashby had now advanced with his whole cavalry, and was in 
 hot pursuit of the disordered Federal horse and the wagon train. 
 
 The scene which ensued was one of wild disorder. The men 
 stopped to ransack the heavily laden wagons in rear ; and the 
 consequence was, that the long trains in front were enabled to 
 make good their escape. Worse still, this delay enabled the 
 Federal commander to organize a rear-guard; and, when Jack- 
 son's infantry pressed on, it was saluted with a heavy fire of 
 artillery.
 
 JACKSON'S "PROPERTY." 191 
 
 The General was furious, and hot words passed between him 
 and Ashby — now Brigadier-General, and responsible for the 
 conduct of all the cavalry. 
 
 " But for this shameful conduct," exclaimed Jackson, " General 
 Banks would have reached Winchester without a wagon train, 
 if not without an army."* 
 
 Ashby made a haughty reply, which I did not hear — and for 
 many days the rupture between them was not healed. 
 
 Driving before him the Federal rear-guard, Jackson now con- 
 tinued to press forward with his infantry — the column moved all 
 night, fighting at every step — and at daylight on the next morn- 
 ing the roofs of Winchester were seen shining in the sunlight. 
 
 General Banks occupied the town, and, finding that he was 
 determined to make a stand on the high ground in the suburbs, 
 Jackson made instant dispositions for an assault. Ewell was 
 directed to attack on the right, from the Front Royal road, and, 
 taking command in person of his left wing, Jackson threw for- 
 ward a heavy line, supported by a determined fire of artillery, 
 and charged the Federal forces occupying the high ground west 
 of the town. 
 
 Nothing stops troops who believe that they are driving before 
 them a demoralized enemy. The Federal forces made a resolute 
 stand, and their first line, behind a stone wall, bravely held that 
 position, although the stones were dashed into a thousand pieces 
 by round shot. But the Southern line carried every thing before 
 it. It swept down the slope in front — advanced at a double- 
 quick across the intervening space, under a furious fire from the 
 enemy's artillery, and, mounting the opposing slope, charged 
 the Federal line with the bayonet. 
 
 For an instant I could make out nothing through the smoke — . 
 no sound was heard but the dull roar of artillery, and tho sharp 
 rattle of musketry. Then a loud cheer rose from the hill, and, as 
 the smoke drifted, I saw the Federal forces in full retreat, pur- 
 sued by their opponents. 
 
 At the same moment, wild shouts arose on the right, where 
 
 * This expression was afterward useil in Jackson's report.
 
 192 SUKR* OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Ewoll had been thundering with his artillery. I saw his line 
 sweep forward, with glittering bayonets, driving the Federal 
 infantry from a heavy stone wall and other cover ; and, galloping 
 forward, I entered the town just as the two columns united, and 
 the Federal forces scattered, and hastened in full retreat through 
 the streets. 
 
 The spectacle was exciting. The streets were full of men, 
 women, and children, who seemed wild with joy. It is scarcely 
 an exaggeration to say that they appeared crazed for the moment. 
 They ran to and fro, shouting, cheering, laughing — every window 
 waved with handkerchiefs, fluttering in the hands of ladies — and 
 such was the crowd of these latter in the streets that the advance 
 of the Southern troops was actually impeded by them. They 
 seemed to pay not the least attention to the balls whistling 
 around them ; and many persons witnessed, and can testify to the 
 curious fact, that a detail of men had to be sent in advance, to 
 make the groups of girls give way, in order that the platoons 
 might deliver their fire. 
 
 Never before or afterward did I see Jackson so much carried 
 away as upon this occasion. As men, women, and children flocked 
 around him, grasping his hand, touching his clothes, and saluting 
 him with cheers and exclamations, his face flushed, his eyes 
 sparkled, and, waving his old cap in the air, he uttered a cheer — 
 the first and last I ever heard from his lips. 
 
 Then he pushed ahead of the crowd ; followed at full gallop 
 the retreating enemy ; and was soon so close that, fearing they 
 would turn and fire on him, I said : 
 
 " Don't you think you are exposing yourself too much, Gen- 
 eral?" 
 
 "No, Major!" he exclaimed, "they can't hurt me! Go back 
 and tell the army to press right on to the Potomac!"* 
 
 The enemy were pursued for some miles beyond Winchester 
 by the infantry, and then the cavalry continued to harass them 
 until they crossed the Potomac, near Martinsburg. 
 
 General Banks was thus driven completely from the Valley, and 
 
 * TTis words.
 
 CAPTAIN BOGY'S LITTLE IDEA. 193 
 
 such was the haste of his departure that he left behind him 
 immense stores, which fell into Jackson's hands. The troops 
 ransacked the sutlers' stores, which their owners had fled and 
 abandoned — and the citizens of Winchester still relate with 
 laughter the story of a fat old Dutchman who lost his all. He 
 knew that Jackson was coming back, he said ; he had heard 
 a horn blowing beyond Fort Royal, then at Middletown, then 
 near Winchester ; and this horn said plainly, louder and louder 
 as it came, "Who's been here since I's been gone?" That 
 horn was Jackson's, and he it was who was demanding in his 
 terrible voice who had intruded on his property. So, exit 
 Mynheer in the direction of Martinsburg — from which place he 
 returned after the withdrawal of the rebels, to find only empty 
 boxes in his store-rooms, and to exclaim in despair, with hands 
 uplifted, "Who's been here since /'s been gone?" 
 
 The Federal troops, who saw all, shared this feeling, that the 
 region around Winchester belonged to Jackson, and that he was 
 coming back to take possession of "his property." More than 
 once I heard that groups of lounging soldiers had suddenly 
 started and risen to their feet when some practical -joke-loving 
 individual exclaimed, "Jackson is coming!" — and one had fallen 
 backward from a lofty stool at this announcement, convinced 
 that the fearful clutch of the blood-thirsty Stonewall was on \m 
 shoulder. 
 
 That awful cannibal had now come back, made a meal on 
 General Banks, and entered into possession of his property. 
 Unfortunately, however, his tenure of it was to be very brief. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 A LITTLE IDEA OF CAPTAIN BOGY'S. 
 
 Before proceeding with the rapid narrative of the great cam- 
 paign, of which I have given only the main historic outlines, I 
 shall invite the reader's attention to one of those comic scenes 
 which so often appear amid the carnage of war, and afford him 
 9
 
 194 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 a glimpse of an old acquaintance, wellnigh forgotten, I fear, In 
 the rush of events and the crowd of personages on the imposing 
 theatre of the war. 
 
 I had been sent to the front with an order from Jackson, and 
 was returning to Winchester, when, just as I debouched into the 
 main highway between that place and Martinsburg, I descried a 
 singular cortege. 
 
 A long line of Federal prisoners were marching on foot over 
 the dusty high road to Winchester, accompanied by a guard of 
 cavalry; and each one of the blue-coats carried in his arms a 
 negro child !* 
 
 They toiled along through the hot sunshine, carrying the 
 squalling young Africans, and, as I approached, imprecations 
 greeted my ears, mixed with laughter from the guard, who 
 seemed to enjoy intensely the disgust of their late adversaries at 
 this compulsory dry-nursism. 
 
 I was about to ride on, when all at once I recognized in the 
 commander of the cavalry escort my old acquaintance, Captain 
 Bogy, with whom I had dined, in company with Johnston, Jack- 
 son, and Stuart, just before the battle of Manassas. I knew that 
 the jovial Captain had joined Jackson with his company when 
 Ewell re-enforced us just before McDowell, but, in the rush of 
 official engagements, had not been able to visit him. 
 
 Bogy was, if any tiling, fatter, rounder, and more jovial than 
 before. His sabre-belt sunk deeper into his enormous body; 
 his jackboots were heavier; his face more ruddy, and his smile 
 still more unctuous. 
 
 He recognized me at once, and saluted me with a wheezy 
 deep-seated, contagious laugh. 
 
 "You see I am going back, Major," he said, "with a few of 
 the spoils of victory !" 
 
 " In the shape of prisoners and contrabands!" 
 "Yes, that is a little device of mine, and I don't mind saying 
 I'm rather proud of it. Rather a neat idea, eh, Major?" 
 "Making the prisoners carry the darkey?" 
 
 * Historical — but this device was invented by the gallant Captain A , not by 
 
 Captain Bogy.
 
 CAPTAIN BOGY'S LITTLE IDEA. 195 
 
 " Why not ? They enticed them away, and were carrying off 
 in their wagons whole families of these monkey-beings. They 
 are savage on their General Banks, and swear that it was all his 
 doing. They charge him with leaving behind his own wounded 
 to make room in his wagon for the ebo-shins."* 
 
 " It is not possible!" 
 
 " Don't know ; but I know they were carried off in shoals to 
 Muriinsburg, and, as I captured 'em, I thought they ought to be 
 brought back by the same people who took them there. It must 
 be a pleasing occupation to tote 'em — they love 'em so!" 
 
 And, turning to a sullen-looking fellow among the Federal 
 prisoners, who carried in his arms an uncommonly dirty, chubby, 
 and squalling negro baby, Captain Bogy asked, with an air of 
 great interest, whether he was not " glad to have that close to 
 his bosom one of the poor down-trodden Africans?" 
 
 The reply of the Federal prisoner was brief but expressive : 
 
 "D the down-trodden African!" he growled. "I wish 
 
 the whole concern of 'em was in !" 
 
 And he mentioned a place unnamable to ears polite. 
 
 Bogy burst into laughter, and the baby set up a squalL 
 
 "Hug him ! hug the little darling to your bosom, my friend !" 
 said the Captain. " I don't myself admire the peculiar odor of 
 the African, but there's no accounting for difference of taste!" 
 
 And, amid the muttered curses of the burly nurse, who looked 
 as if be would very much like to strangle his burden, Bogy rode 
 on laughing. 
 
 " General order number one!" he called out as we passed on; 
 "if any prisoner drops his baby, give him two!" 
 
 And, shaking all over, Bogy turned to me and said : 
 
 "A glorious campaign, Major! a perfect stifler on Commis- 
 sary-General Banks!" 
 
 " Coynmissary-GeneralV 
 
 " That's the nickname given him by the men. They say that 
 he is Old Jack's commissary and quartermaster too. "Wagons, 
 rations, sutlers' stores — he has provided every thing." 
 
 * Such was the charge brought by the Federal troops against General Banks at 
 the time.
 
 196 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Very true, lny dear Captain, and I'm much mistaken if to 
 old a, soldier as yourself has not looked out for his mess." 
 
 " Mel" exclaimed the Captain. "Oh, I never think of good 
 eating, Major!" 
 
 And the Captain chuckled. 
 
 " Remember that day I dined with you." 
 
 " Was the hill of fare good? Delighted to hear it." 
 
 " It was miraculous ; and I'll bet you will dine as well to-day." 
 
 "No, no, I fear not." 
 
 And Bogy sighed. 
 
 " Come, confess, my dear Captain, didn't you secure some 
 small, unpretending wagon, which no one else would notice, and 
 yet whose contents were a real Arabian Night's Entertainment?" 
 
 Bogy looked modest, and was silent. 
 
 "Come! you look guilty! Confess, confess!" 
 
 Captain Bogy inserted one finger beneath his hat, scratched 
 his head, and replied, in an innocent voice : 
 
 " Well, I did get a small, a very small wagon, Major." 
 
 "I could have sworn it! And now confess again! It was a 
 'head-quarters wagon.'" 
 
 " Well I believe it was." 
 
 " Whose, my dear Captain?" 
 
 The Captain looked still more innocent. 
 
 " I think it was General Banks's," he replied, with lamb-like 
 simplicity. 
 
 I began to laugh, and asked if its contents were satisfactory. 
 
 " Eminently so, my dear Major, as you will have an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing, if you will come and dine with me to-morrow. 
 To-day is lost; I have dined on a cracker," and Bogy sighed; 
 "but to-morrow! Ah! that's different! To-morrow I shall 
 really dine ! Come and let us reconnoitre the wagon together. 
 I have already tried the brandy ; it is genuine Otard : the wine is 
 not so good, and I wish these Yankee generals would cultivate a 
 purer taste. They rarely have what suits my palate. But the 
 sauces are excellent ; I have tried them : and the cheese very 
 passable. Come, Major! come! Lucullus dines with Lucullui 
 to-morrow; drop in ! I will send you word where to find me!' ;
 
 THE TRAP. 197 
 
 Such was the hospitable invitation of Captain Bogy, and I 
 accepted it provisionally — if I could come. Unfortunately, to 
 anticipate, I was unable to be with the gallant Captain. 
 
 I left him riding gravely in front of his cortege, occasionally 
 issuing a stentorian order when the nurses flagged in their march, 
 or exhibited symptoms of rebellion at their burden. 
 
 That spectacle kept me laughing for many miles. 
 
 LV. 
 
 THE TRAP 
 
 " Tell the army to press right on to the Potomac!" had indi- 
 cated Jackson's entire programme. lie was always in favor of 
 following up his successes, and pressing a defeated enemy re- 
 morselessly: his object now was to paralyze, if possible, the 
 entire Federal force in the region. General Banks's column was 
 driven beyond the Potomac, but a force was at Charlestown, and 
 at Harper's Ferry a very considerable garrison. Jackson's col- 
 umn was immediately pushed forward in that direction to finish 
 the work. 
 
 We afterward heard that his approach was telegraphed to 
 Washington, and caused such apprehensions there that the Gov- 
 ernors of the Northern States were called upon for troops to 
 defend the Capital. It will soon be seen that formidable efforts 
 were meanwhile being made to cut off and destroy this great, 
 gladiator, whose movements were so sudden, rapid, and threaten- 
 ing. 
 
 To return to my rapid outline of events. General Charles 
 Winder pressed on toward Charlestown with the Stonewall 
 Brigade, opened upon the forces Avith his cavalry before they 
 suspected his presence, and, driving them before him, reached the 
 vicinity of Harper's Ferry, where, on the next day, Jackson 
 joined him with the main body. 
 
 An attack was instantly determined upon, and a regiment was 
 sent to occupy Loudoun Heights east of the place; fire had just
 
 198 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 been opened ; all was ready for the attack, when news came 
 which put an end to further proceedings. 
 
 A rumor seemed to come, blown on the wind, that a storm 
 was brewing in the rear, and Jackson entered the cars at 
 Charlestown to return to Winchester. 
 
 He had scarcely done so, when a courier rode up at full speed. 
 
 "What news?" said Jackson, curtly. 
 
 The courier fumbled for his dispatch. 
 
 "The enemy are at Front Royal." 
 
 " Good !" said Jackson. 
 
 " Colonel Conuor is cut off and captured," 
 
 " Very good."* 
 
 " Fremont is at "Wardensville. Here is the dispatch, General." 
 
 Jackson read it with perfect calmness, crumpled up and 
 dropped it, and then rapidly wrote an order directing his entire 
 command to return from Harper's Ferry to "Winchester. 
 
 Having done so, he bent forward, leaned his head upon the 
 back of the seat in front of him, and fell asleep.t 
 
 The cars moved on, and in half an hour he awoke. 
 
 "Are we near Winchester, Major?" 
 
 " Yes, General." 
 
 "I can get there first — I mean to Strasburg." 
 
 "The march will be hard." 
 
 " Yes, if Fremont is at Wardensville and McDowell at Front 
 Royal, as that dispatch announced." 
 
 "I don't like to croak, General," I said, "but it appears to 
 me that if any time is lost we are cut off." 
 
 " You are right : that would be unfortunate after capturing 
 such valuable stores. Only one course would remain for me." 
 
 "What is that, General?" 
 
 " To fall back upon Maryland for re-enforcements. "J 
 
 We reached Winchester, and the captured stores were hastily 
 loaded upon the wagons. The enormous trains were then sent 
 forward with the long column of Federal prisoners, twenty- 
 three hundred in number, toward Strasburg, escorted by a regi- 
 
 * His word*. + Historical. $ His words.
 
 THE TRAP. 199 
 
 ment of infantry, under the brave Colonel Cunningham, after- 
 ward killed at Cedar Mountain. 
 
 The army was then rapidly concentrated at Winchester; and 
 without losing a moment, or waiting for the Stonewall Brigade, 
 which had held the front at Harper's Ferry, the column hastened 
 toward Strasburg. 
 
 There was something both gallant and grotesque in the spec- 
 tacle of the men limping along over the hard stones of the turn 
 pike, laughing and jesting as they did so. The oddest remarks 
 came to my ears as I rode along the column, glittering, with its 
 burnished bayonets, like some huge serpent with silver scales, 
 as it undulated in the sunshine. "Old Jack ain't cut off yet," 
 seemed the most popular view of- the situation ; and the critical 
 condition of affairs seemed to be regarded as a good joke. Sol- 
 diers are like children, reader — but for that matter, what men 
 are not? Your emperors, kings, presidents, and statesmen — 
 they are all overgrown children. 
 
 Jackson's situation was one of very extreme peril. Two 
 heavy Federal columns were closing in upon his rear, toward 
 Strasburg — that under General Shields from the east, and that 
 under General Fremont from the west. The former is known 
 to have amounted to twenty thousand men, from President Lin- 
 coln's order to General McDowell to "move twenty thousand 
 men " on the line of the Manassas Gap Railroad, "to capture or 
 destroy Jackson." General Fremont's force was probably about 
 as numerous. 
 
 Thus, without counting the forces at Harper's Ferry, Williams- 
 port, and elsewhere on the Potomac, which would immediately 
 follow upon his rear, Jackson had in his front about forty 
 thousand troops, through which it appeared he would certainly 
 be compelled to cut his way. 
 
 His own force was fifteen thousand effective men.* 
 
 If he was cut off at Strasburg, this force would speedily bo en- 
 closed by a cordon of three armies, under Fremont, Shields, and 
 Banks, amounting to about seventy thousand men. 
 
 * Jackson's statement at the time.
 
 200 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Jackson rode at the head of his column, and I could not dis- 
 cern any unusual emotion in his countenance. His astonishing 
 nerve enabled him to look calmly in the face of peril which 
 would certainly have excited most generals, however courage- 
 ous. 
 
 "Move on with the column," came from the calm lips from 
 time to time, and soon the towering wave of the Massi- 
 nutton Mountain rose before us. Suddenly firing was heard in 
 front. 
 
 Jackson pushed on and entered Strasburg, when a staff-oflioer 
 from Ashby galloped up. 
 
 " What news ?" 
 
 " The enemy are advancing, General." 
 
 "Fremont's column?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. They are in sight. 1 
 
 " Tell General Ashby to hold them in check as long as possi- 
 ble." 
 
 The officer saluted and darted off. At the same moment a 
 courier appeared coming from the direction of Front Royal. 
 
 "Well?" said Jackson curtly. 
 
 " The enemy are within three miles, General." 
 
 " Infantry or cavalry ?" 
 
 " Cavalry." 
 
 " Good." And turning to me, the General, said : " Present my 
 compliments to General Ewell, and tell him to attack Fremont's 
 column, at once." 
 
 I was riding off. 
 
 " Wait a moment." 
 
 I turned my horse's head. 
 
 " Tell him to hold his ground until he is cut to pieces." 
 
 This cheering order I speedily delivered to General Ewell, 
 who laughed grimly as he threw his division into line of battle. 
 
 I returned to Jackson, who was trying to eat a cracker as hard 
 as iron, as he sat his horse. 
 
 " Major, ride up to the top of the hill, and see if you can see 
 or hear any thing of the Stonewall Brigade. I intend to stay 
 here until it arrives."
 
 THE TRAP. 201 
 
 I rode up and reconnoitred, reaching the hill-top just as the 
 long roll of musketry west of Strasburg indicated that Ewell 
 had engaged Fremont. 
 
 As far as the eye could see, the turnpike was deserted. No 
 signs of the missing brigade were seen, and I reported the fact 
 to Jackson. 
 
 "Very good." 
 
 And he rode forward to where Ewell was fighting. He was 
 heavily engaged with General Fremont's advance force, which 
 had passed ahead of the main body. 
 
 At sight of Jackson, a loud cheer rose from the men, and the 
 line, instead of merely standing and receiving the enemy's attack, 
 rushed forward. 
 
 Forgetting every thing else, Jackson galloped on with the line, 
 encouraging the men, and, before the impetuous rush of the 
 Southerners, General Fremont's line fell back. 
 
 Jackson halted, and wiped his forehead. As he did so, a cou- 
 rier hastened up with a dispatcli from General Winder. The 
 Stonewall Brigade would arrive in half an hour. 
 
 " Tell the General to lose no time. I am waiting for him." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, General," he said to Ewell, "we will soon move now. 
 Keep your command well together ; I will withdraw in an hour." 
 
 In twenty minutes the flag of the Stonewall Brigade appeared 
 upon the hill above Strasburg, and the line of glittering bayonets 
 wound down the declivity. They had made an enormous march, 
 but were at last up ; and in an hour, as he had notified Ewell, 
 Jackson put his entire column in motion, just as dispatches from 
 the right and the left announced that the forces under Shields 
 and Fremont were pouring forward, and would soon be upon 
 him. 
 
 The wagon train and the prisoners had gone ahead, and the 
 long column of infantry now followed. 
 
 Last came Ashby's column of cavalry. As the rear of the column 
 reached the high ground beyond the town, the enemy rushed 
 into Strasburg. 
 
 Jackson had extricated himself from the trap. 
 9*
 
 202 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 FALLING BACK. 
 
 The retreat which followed was one long battle. 
 
 General Fremont was pressing Jackson's rear on the main 
 Valley road ; General Shields was hurrying by a parallel route 
 up the Luray Valley, to cut him off at Newmarket. 
 
 Jackson had taught his adversaries topography. They were 
 playing against him the same game which had been so fatal to 
 General Banks. That commander's woes had all originated from 
 the unfortunate existence of the Luray Valley. Might not Jack- 
 son become the victim of a flank movement by that route, in his 
 turn? 
 
 So General Shields hurried by Luray toward Newmarket, and 
 General Fremont followed in his adversary's rear. 
 
 Desperate attempts were made to break through Ashby's rear- 
 guard of cavalry, infantry, and artillery ; and the Federal cavalry 
 charged with very great gallantry. 
 
 They were repulsed by the free use of canister, and by the en- 
 ergy of Ashby, who seemed to delight in the performance of the 
 duty assigned to him. 
 
 It was Ashby who fought that long battle I have mentioned, 
 from Strasburg up the Valley. At Woodstock, Edinburg, Mount 
 Jackson — on every hill and in every valley of this beautiful re- 
 gion — he fought, with shell, canister, the carbine, and the sabre. 
 
 A certain amount of fighting every day seemed now to have 
 become necessary to the man; and such untiring energy and ac- 
 tivity 3iad he displayed, that Jackson, who had long since become 
 as warmly attached to him as ever, placed the whole rear of the 
 army under him. 
 
 It was thenceforth in Ashby's power to order into action as 
 much infantry as he wished ; but his cavalry and horse artillery 
 continued to be sufficient 
 
 I was with him nearly all the time during this famous retr eat— ■ 
 can never think of it without seeing Ashby on his milk-white
 
 ASHBY'S WHITE HORSE. 203 
 
 horse again — and always his noble form and face rise up and 
 illustrate the page which speaks of those events. I see him as he 
 passed before me tben, and shall ever see him. 
 
 I loved and admired him as the pearl of honor, the flower of 
 chivalry. But bow I should have treasured up every word, and 
 been beside him always, had I known his days were numbered—- 
 that even then his last sands of life were running through the 
 glass ! 
 
 LVII. 
 
 ASHBY'S WHITE HORSE. 
 
 Tns army reached and crossed the Shenandoah near New- 
 market : it was Ashby's duty now, when his cavalry had passed, 
 to destroy the bridge behind him. 
 
 Having carried him the message conveying Jackson's wishes as 
 to the time and manner of destroying it, I was a witness of the 
 scene which followed. 
 
 The wagons, prisoners, and infantry had all defiled over the 
 bridge, the enemy following closely on their rear, and it required 
 Ashby's most vigorous efforts and utmost skill in disposing his 
 cavalry, with the fire of the artillery from the hill south of the 
 river, to keep back the pursuing force long enough to enable 
 every thing to get over. At last, however, this important object 
 was achieved ; notice was given that the last brigade was over, 
 and Ashby began to cross with his cavalry and artillery. 
 
 A strong rear-guard still faced the on-pressing enemy, skir- 
 mishing hotly as they slowly fell back ; and under cover of this 
 force, commanded by Ashby in person, the cavalry column and 
 guns clattered over the bridge. 
 
 Ashby now fell slowly back with the rear-guard, obstinately 
 contesting every step; and never shall I forget the chivalric 
 spectacle which he presented, mounted on his superb white 
 horse, as fearless and defiant as himself. The swarthy face, with 
 its heavy black beard, glowed with martial ardor ; in the flash- 
 ing eyes might be read the joy of conflict ; and, with drawn
 
 204 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 sabre, on his spirited animal, he resembled some knight of the 
 Middle Ages, asking nothing better than an opportunity to meet 
 all comers. 
 
 The rear-guard was finally across, and, ordering the column to 
 move rapidly on and join the main body, Ashby selected eight 
 men, and proceeded rapidly to set fire to the wood-work of the 
 bridge. 
 
 In this, however, he was suddenly met by a serious obstacle. 
 The timbers were saturated by the recent rains, and it was found 
 impossible to kindle the combustibles which had been collected. 
 
 To his inexpressible chagrin, Ashby saw the Federal cavalry 
 coming at headlong speed down the turnpike on the opposite 
 side of the bridge ; and in an instant a storm of bullets whistled 
 round the heads of the working party, who exhibited unmistaka- 
 ble signs of " demoralization." 
 
 Ashby ordered them, hotly, to attend to the work before 
 them ; but the Federal cavalry had now dashed on, and were 
 thundering over the bridge, which had just kindled. 
 
 In spite of Ashby's stern and passionate orders, the men ran 
 to their horses, and another volley whistled among them, com- 
 pleting their panic. 
 
 In an instant they were in the saddle, and disgracefully fled, 
 without thinking of their commander. I found myself alone 
 beside General Ashby, who sat his white horse with wrathful 
 countenance — half resolved, it seemed, to charge the whole 
 Federal column, and die sword in hand rather than fly. 
 
 A single moment only was now left in which to decide upon 
 our course. The enemy were nearly across the bridge, charging 
 with loud cheers, and firing as they came. 
 
 "Let us give them a shot at least, Surry," he said. 
 
 And levelling his revolver, he emptied, in succession, every 
 barrel, and I imitated him. 
 
 Then nothing was left but flight or capture ; and an exciting 
 race commenced. 
 
 We were pursued by a whole detachment, who followed us 
 with loud orders to halt. 
 
 " I am sorry my pistol is emptied," said Ashby, looking grimly
 
 ASHBY'S WHITE HORSE. 205 
 
 over his shoulder ; " but if it comes to the sabre, I'll try to give a 
 good account of some of them." 
 
 "We galloped on at full speed, followed closely by our pursuers, 
 who were excellently mounted. 
 
 " Those must be stolen horses," said my companion coolly. 
 " See that tall fellow on the black — it is a superb animal." 
 
 " Which ?" I said, laughing, " the man or the horse?" 
 
 As I spoke, a bullet grazed my neck, bringing the blood. 
 
 " Pay for your jest," was Ashby's reply. " Look out, the whole 
 party are going to fire !" 
 
 A volley followed, and the next moment I heard Ashby utter 
 something like a growl. 
 
 "Look!" he said, pointing to his horse's side. 
 
 I saw that a bullet had inflicted a deep wound, from which the 
 blood was streaming. 
 
 " Some one shall suffer for that!" 
 
 And the moment for carrying out the threat speedily came. 
 
 "Weary of the ineffectual chase, the cavalry all stopped with 
 the exception of two, who continued the pursuit, apparently from 
 mere bravado. The time had arrived for Ashby's revenge. 
 
 Wheeling suddenly round, his sabre flashing at the same in- 
 stant from his scabbard, he charged straight upon the two cavalry- 
 men, and witli one whirl of his weapon nearly severed the head 
 of one of them from the body. Cut completely out of the saddle, 
 the man fell, inert as a corpse, in the road — and at the same 
 moment a ball from the rear-guard of cavalry, which we had 
 nearly reached, penetrated the breast of the second, who also 
 fell from his seat.* 
 
 Ashby then returned his sabre to the scabbard, and coolly rode 
 on to the head of his column. 
 
 The infantry had halted, and, on reaching the point where they 
 were drawn up, my companion found that his white horse could 
 go no further. He dismounted, and, gazing in silence upon the 
 noble animal which had borne him safely through so many 
 bloody encounters, seemed as much grieved as if he were about 
 to part with some valued friend. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 206 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The wound was mortal, and caressing gently, for a few mo- 
 ments, the arched neck of his favorite, Ash by turned away in 
 silence. The horse was led off by one of the men ; and never 
 shall I forget the superb appearance of the wounded charger as 
 he passed along the line of infantry. Panting with his hard run, 
 foaming at the mouth, and covered with sweat — his splendid 
 head carried proudly erect — his eyes full of fire — he seemed in- 
 spired with human hatred for the enemy, and to defy them to 
 the last. 
 
 I could see in the eyes of the men, as he paced before them 
 with the bleeding wound in his side, how much they pitied and 
 admired him.* 
 
 LYIII 
 
 I AM CAPTURED. 
 
 The river was passed, Newmarket reached, and Jackson's 
 column swept on to Harrisonburg. His cavalry had destroyed 
 the bridge over the South Fork of the Shenandoah, leading into 
 the Luray Valley; his flank was thus safe still — and soon Harri- 
 sonburg was reached. 
 
 Thence, without pausing, he pushed on toward Port Republic, 
 where, with his back to Brown's Gap, he could stand at bay, and 
 bid defiance both to Fremont and to Shields. But could he reach 
 that point? On the summit of the southern shoulder of the 
 Massinutton, which here subsides into the Valley, could be seen 
 the fluttering of our signal flags ; and these said, " Shields is in 
 sight, and rapidly advancing toward Port Republic." 
 
 All now depended upon the rapidity of Jackson's movements 
 and the resources of his strategy. Pressed in rear by the heavy 
 column under General Fremont, and with that under General 
 Shields rapidly advancing to intercept him, he was in a position 
 of very great peril ; and I followed, with absorbing interest, the 
 
 * See accounts of this scene in newspapers of the time.
 
 I AM CAPTURED. 207 
 
 movements of the great gladiator thus encircled by his dangerous 
 foes. 
 
 An untoward incident now occurred, however, which threat- 
 ened to prevent me from taking part in the coming struggle. 
 
 We were steadily falling back from Harrisonburg on Port Re- 
 public, when the incident I refer to took place. General Fremont 
 was pressing closely on the rear-guard under Ashby, which was 
 incessantly engaged, and having by this time formed a strong 
 personal affection for the great cavalry commander, I was with 
 him whenever I could spare the time from my duties. 
 
 I often look back now to those days with a longing desire to 
 live them over again, and hear the friendly voice of the great 
 spirit which has passed away. It was a life all excitement and 
 romance which we lived at that epoch — days of fighting, of in- 
 cident, of adventure; nights of hasty slumber, in rude bivouac 
 under the forest trees, or of long, confidential talks by the 
 smouldering camp-fire ; all day long the crack of carbines, and 
 the roar of artillery keeping back the enemy; and then, with the 
 great soldier who had moved in front of his cavalry, ever ready 
 to come to the sabre, those sad, memorial recollections which are 
 the luxury of friends, who exchange their memories as they fall 
 asleep after or on the eve of battle. Often now those days come 
 back to me — I seem to see his face and hear his voice — and peace, 
 amid friends and in the good old home, seems not so wholly 
 charming as I thought it would be, then. Peace hath her vic- 
 tories and her laurels ; but the ilowers are not so fresh, nor tipped 
 with such fiery dew, as when they bloom amid the hot atmos- 
 phere of war. 
 
 I wander from my theme — but those old times beguile me. 
 Again the winds of other days blow on my forehead, and I live 
 in the hours that are dead. 
 
 To come to the actual occurrences of that time — I was with 
 the cavalry rear-guard between Harrisonburg and Cross Keys, 
 some miles from Port Republic, at which point the infantry was 
 concentrating, when a dust, rising upon the flank, attracted my 
 attention, and I told Ashby that I would go and ascertain what 
 it meant.
 
 208 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Take care, Surry," was his reply; "the eneiny are closa 
 behind us, and you will be captured." 
 
 " I reckon not." 
 
 " Well, keep a good look-out. The Federal advance-guard is 
 commanded by Sir Percy Wyndham, an English officer, who has 
 sworn, I am informed, that he will 'bag' me. I should be soxry 
 to have him catch one of my friends." 
 
 "I defy him!" 
 
 And, with that spirit of pride which so often precedes a fall, I 
 put spur to my horse, and went at full speed in the direction of 
 the dust, following a narrow forest-road. 
 
 Unfortunately, Ashby's fears were speedily realized. I had 
 not gone a quarter of a mile, when a detachment of cavalry 
 flankers debouched quietly into the road behind me, and, levelling 
 their carbines, ordered me to surrender. 
 
 It was the coolest and most businessdike affair I had ever 
 witnessed, reader. No ill-bred hurry — no excitement — no "vio- 
 lent language," or unpleasant collision. Within twenty steps of 
 me were twenty carbines, cocked and aimed at my breast — the 
 officer at the head of the men commanded, " Surrender, or you 
 are dead " — and, with bitterness in my heart, I surrendered. 
 
 "You are an officer, sir?" he said, riding up. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "What command?" 
 
 " The Confederate States Army." 
 
 "Rather a considerable force in our front, Lieutenant," said 
 the officer, who seemed to be something of a humorist ; " send 
 the prisoner, under guard, to Colonel Wyndham." 
 
 The lieutenant touched his hat — I remember he was a villian- 
 ous-looking fellow — and three men separated themselves from 
 the column and took charge of me. 
 
 "Kill him, if he tries to escape," said the humorous officer. 
 
 The men cocked their carbines, and rested them across their 
 pommels ; and, with this pleasing escort, I was conducted, by a 
 winding road through the woods, to a house near the main road, 
 which I had remembered passing on the preceding evening. 
 
 Here superbly equipped horses were seen tethered to tha
 
 SIR PERCY WYNDHAM. 209 
 
 boughs and fences — couriers went and came — and my escort 
 conducted me into the presence of Sir Percy Wyndham, com- 
 manding the cavalry advance-guard of the Federal forces. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF SIR PERCY WYNDHAM. 
 
 I found myself in the plain sitting-room of a small farm-house. 
 On a table were spread maps and papers ; and a bottle of wine 
 raised its slender neck, flanked by glasses. 
 
 Lolling in a split-bottomed rocking-chair was a tall, fine look- 
 ing personage, clad in a superb uniform, and wearing a sabre 
 with a magnificently chased hilt, which rattled against fine 
 French cavalry boots, decorated with enormous spurs. The 
 countenance of this officer was ruddy, handsome, and full of 
 pride. His hair was light, long, and worn in curls. It was a 
 military Adonis I saw before me in the person of Sir Percy. 
 
 "Wben I entered, he was talking with a sleek personage, clad 
 in citizen's dress, who had on his knees a portfolio, in which lay 
 some loose sheets of paper covered with writing. Upon my ap- 
 pearance, this gentleman seized a pen, dipped it in the ink, and 
 held it poised above his paper, with the air of a man who Is going 
 to report a public speech. 
 
 "A prisoner, Colonel," said my escort. 
 
 The Colonel wheeled round in his chair and looked keenly at 
 me. 
 
 " "When were you captured ?" 
 
 " Half an hour ago." 
 
 " You are an officer — a major, I see. What command ?" 
 
 " I have already replied to that question." 
 
 " To whom ?" 
 
 " The officer who captured me." 
 
 " "Well, sir, you can, no doubt, favor me with a repetition of 
 your reply." 
 
 I replied that I belonged to the Confederate States Army.
 
 210 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Close, Colonel !" here interposed the sleek gentleman in 
 black, who had hastily scratched away at his paper as this dia- 
 logue took place. 
 
 ; ' A perfect trap !" exclaimed the Colonel, lolling carelessly 
 back in his chair ; " but I have never known a single rebel offi- 
 cer who had not this exaggerated idea of the importance of 
 secrecy in every thing. Now, I make no mystery of my move- 
 ments — none." 
 
 " You are going to ' bag Ashby,' Colonel, and that's a fact, 1 ' 
 came, with a laugh, from the sleek personage. 
 
 " I swear I will! At least you can tell me, sir," he added, turn- 
 ing to me, " whether you know General Ashby." 
 
 M Intimately, sir." 
 
 " Ah ?" and the Colonel rose in his chair. 
 
 " I have been with him throughout the retreat — though I am 
 not attached to his command." 
 
 These words seemed to attract the Colonel's attention and ex- 
 cite his interest. 
 
 " Take a seat, Major," he said. "I did not hear your name" — 
 
 " Surry." 
 
 " An English name. You Virginians come of the genuine 
 English stock — and ought to fight well." 
 
 " We try to do the best we can, Colonel." 
 
 " And you do it devilish well, Major. Ashby has given me a 
 world of trouble." 
 
 " He will be delighted to hear it, when I get back." 
 
 " Ha ! but I am not going to part with you so soon, my dear 
 sir. Let us talk a little first." 
 
 " Willingly, Colonel." 
 
 " I have sworn to capture Ashby." 
 
 " Don't you think it is a difficult undertaking ?" 
 
 " Well, he is cool and watchful enough, but I will get the betteT 
 of him yet. I thought I had him the other day at the bridge." 
 
 •' Over the Shenandoah ?" 
 
 " Yes — did you witness the chase after him?" 
 
 " I was with him." 
 
 " Ah ! then you were the other officer we ran ?"
 
 SIR PERCY WYNDHAM. 211 
 
 " Yes, Colonel : but your pursuing party went a little too far." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " Ashby cut down one with his sabre, and the other was 
 shot." 
 
 The Colonel frowned. 
 
 " And that's a fact, Sir Percy," said the sleek gentleman, scrib- 
 bling away. "I saw the bodies as we passed." 
 
 "Curse what you saw, sir!" was the growling reply. 
 
 "I wouldn't take any thing for that incident, Colonel I" ex- 
 claimed the newspaper correspondent — for such he evidently 
 was : " rapid retreat of rebels, pursued by victorious Union- 
 ists — bridge burning in their rear — Ashby on white charger, l re- 
 tiring' at full gallop — unfortunate fate of two of his pursuers, 
 who, surrounded by a whole brigade of rebel cavalry, fought 
 their way nearly out, but were finally killed by treacherous blows 
 from behind: it will be splendid, Colonel!" 
 
 A careless laugh from the Colonel greeted this magnificent pic- 
 ture, and, at the same moment, an officer galloped up and en- 
 tered. 
 
 "Well?" said the Colonel. 
 
 " The enemy are falling back again, sir — the road is clear in 
 front." 
 
 " Entirely ?" 
 
 " Nothing seen, sir, but a detachment of cavalry, commanded 
 by General Ashby." 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 " I saw him distinctly through my glass, and know him per- 
 fectly." 
 
 The Colonel started up. 
 
 "Order a squadron of picked men to report to me here, in 
 fifteen minutes," he said to a staff-officer on the porch of the 
 farm-house. 
 
 Then, turning to the newspaper correspondent, he said : 
 
 " Do you wish to secure material for a fine paragraph ?" 
 
 "I would go through fire and blood to do so!" exclaimed the 
 correspondent, in a martial tone, and brandishing his pen. 
 
 "You \ike amusement?"
 
 212 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I am devoted to it, Colonel." 
 
 " Wei], come with me, and you will see some fun." , 
 
 " What is your design, Colonel?" 
 
 " To bag Ashby." * 
 
 And the Colonel twirled his mustache with joyful ardor. A 
 quick thrill ran through me, and, assuming a careless tone, I 
 turned to Sir Percy, and said : 
 
 "I really should like to be present at that little affair, 
 Colonel." 
 
 "You!" 
 
 "I can ride in the rear, under guard, and, in either event, 
 there will be small danger of my escaping." 
 
 "In 'either event!' My dear sir, I intend to capture your 
 General Ashby as surely as the sun shines. As you doubt it, have 
 your wish, and come and see me do it." 
 
 "And I, Colonel," said the correspondent. 
 
 " Of course ! You are the historian to hand me down to 
 posterity." 
 
 As the Colonel, now in high good-humor, turned away, I saw 
 a grimace upon the countenance of the correspondent. He was 
 evidently a philosopher, and estimated the element of failure in 
 all human affairs. 
 
 In ten minutes we were all in the saddle — the Colonel riding 
 at the head of the squadron at a trot, on the straight road to 
 Cross Keys. 
 
 LX. 
 
 HOW ASHBY WAS NOT "BAGGED" BY SIR PERCY. 
 
 The column had not advanced half a mile when Ashby's 
 cavalry pickets appeared in front, reconnoitring from a hill. 
 
 The vedettes held their ground until the column was nearly 
 upon them— when they galloped off. 
 
 The same ceremony was repeated at the next hill, and as 
 
 * His words. See the newspapers of the clay, containing the correspondent's 
 lettor.
 
 ASHBY NOT "BAGGED." 213 
 
 Colonel "Wyndham continued to advance without flankers, my 
 heart began to beat and my hopes to rise high. 
 
 I knew how dangerous it was to trifle with an adversary like 
 Ashby, and the incautious method of advancing adopted by the 
 Federal Colonel subjected him, I knew, to imminent peril of 
 capture. 
 
 In thirty minutes, events took place which fully supported ray 
 view of the subject. 
 
 Reaching a point where the road traversed some low grounds, 
 between two low ranges of hills on either side, Colonel "Wynd- 
 ham saw in front of him, at the distance of about four hundred 
 yards, a small body of cavalry, which slowly retired as he ap- 
 peared. 
 
 The Colonel greeted the spectacle with unmistakable pleasure. 
 
 "Now for it!" I heard him call out to his friend, the corre- 
 spondent, who had prudently withdrawn to the side of the 
 road. " Look out for some fun !" 
 
 And, placing himself in front of his column, the Colonel drew 
 his sabre, and gave the order to " charge !" 
 
 The column rushed forward at the word — but oh ! disastrous 
 event! — occurrence ever to be deplored! — no sooner had the 
 horses of the Federal cavalry-men run thrice their length, than 
 the crest on the right of the road, in their rear, suddenly bristled 
 with sabres— and a squadron, led by Ashby in person, thundered 
 down, and fell, with shouts, upon the Federal rear. At the 
 same instant, the detachment in front, which had served as a 
 decoy, charged the enemy full tilt — and, caught between this 
 double fire, cut off, surrounded, dumb-foundered, the Federal 
 r :ivalry-men threw down their arms and surrendered. * 
 
 I was recaptured, and now found myself by Ashby's side, face 
 to face with Colonel Wyndham. The newspaper correspondent 
 had glided into the woods and escaped. 
 
 I shall never forget the expression of the Federal Colonel's 
 countenance at that moment. If ever rage, mortification, and 
 astonishment were depicted on the human face, his displayed them. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 214 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 "When he caught my eye, he glanced at me like a tiger, and 
 turned abruptly away. 
 
 Ashby treated his prisoner with that calm courtesy which 
 characterized him, but the Colonel would not be mollified. His 
 face was flushed, his eyes full of lurid light — wrath had mastered 
 him. The few words he blurted out had something savage in 
 them ; and when he was conducted to the rear, through the 
 lines of infantry, I heard that his wrath exploded. 
 
 Some one among the men greeted him, I heard, with the 
 words: "Just look at the Yankee Colonel!" when his long 
 pent-up anger burst forth like a torrent. His peculiar abhor- 
 rence, it is said, was to be considered a "Yankee" — and this 
 was the straw that broke the camel's back. 
 
 Ashby captured sixty-four men, if my memory serves me, by 
 this ambush ; and these were now sent to the rear. 
 
 " Your luck is extraordinary, my dear Surry," he said, " to be 
 captured and recaptured both in one day. I am truly glad to see 
 you again. Come, tell me about it." 
 
 I narrated all that occurred, and my companion said, with a 
 smile : 
 
 "The worst of all possible habits in a commander is to boast 
 of what he is going to do." 
 
 " Especially when he doesn't do it." 
 
 And we rode on. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 ASHBY AMONG HIS MEN. 
 
 On the same night, I went to carry a message to Ashby, and 
 found him seated at the bivouac fire, in the midst of a circle of 
 his men, with whom he was conversing like one of their own 
 comrades. 
 
 His sword and pistols were buckled around his waist ; his 
 horse stood ready saddled near ; his swarthy face, with its heavy 
 black beard, shone in the fire-light.
 
 ASIIBY AMONG HIS MEN. 215 
 
 Room was made for me at the fire, my message delivered, and 
 the conversation went on between Ashby and his men. 
 
 The scene was striking and picturesque. All around the rude 
 bivouac the horses were picketed to the trees, and beyond the 
 circle of fire-light dusky figures came and went like phantoms. 
 The great tree-trunks rose all around ; the heavy foliage of June 
 drooped above ; and, scattered in groups around the brushwood 
 fire, upon which some rails from an adjoining fence had been 
 thrown, were the rudely-clad figures of the cavalry-men. 
 
 It was impossible to discover in Ashby's demeanor toward 
 his men the least consciousness of his superior rank. His man- 
 ner was the perfection of unassuming simplicity : you would 
 have said that the party were a band of huntsmen, of whom he 
 was one. 
 
 A thousand witticisms were uttered — a thousand adventures 
 related. Ashby listened with a smile, and, with "Well, boys," 
 by way of commencement, took his part in the story-telling. 
 Then some one began to sing. 
 
 It was a wild and plaintive air, like the sigh of the wind 
 through the trees overhead, or the low sound of the pines in 
 the breezes of autumn. It commemorated the exploits of 
 Ashby; and, I remember every verse wound up with the 
 chorus : 
 
 " Strike, freemen ! for your country, 
 Sheathe your swords no more, 
 While remains in arms a Yankee, 
 On Virginia's shore!" 
 
 The words were rude and destitute of poetic merit, but the 
 air was wild and touching. The men listened in silence, joining, 
 however, with full voices in the chorus. 
 
 When the singer had finished, Ashby rose and said : 
 
 " Well, boys, it is getting late, and you had better go to sleep. 
 We may have tough work to-morrow — perhaps to-night." 
 
 And he mounted his horse, which one of the men led for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Good night, General," came from the group, who stood up; 
 and we rode back to a point where a small fire had been
 
 216 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 kindled b} the General's servant for himself and his staff. They 
 were all asleep, and, sitting down by the fire, we talked for a 
 few moments. 
 
 Ashby was unusually silent and sad. 
 
 " "What is the matter ?" I said ; " has that doleful air we heard 
 put you in bad spirits ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no," was his reply. 
 
 "Perhaps it is that owl I hear, with its melancholy tu-whoo. 
 Fie ! mon General, to be low-spirited without reason!" 
 
 " You may laugh, my dear Surry, but I do feel oppressed to- 
 night. Do you know that a curious fancy has taken possession 
 of my mind?" 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That my end is approaching — my days on earth numbered." 
 
 " Pshaw ! this is mere moonshine. You are sick." 
 
 " I never was in better health, and my arm was never 
 stronger." 
 
 His voice was sadder than ever, as he added in a low tone : 
 
 "I have been thinking to-night of my brother Richard." 
 
 "And went yonder to dissipate your gloom?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 For some moments he remained silent. Then he said : 
 
 " Mine has been a sad life for the last few months. I never 
 got over that blow. Why did this cruel war come to make me 
 miserable ? I would cheerfully have given my own ooor life — 
 but not my brother's." 
 
 " Your own has been worth much to the country — you can- 
 not be ignorant of that." 
 
 My companion smiled faintly and shook his head. 
 
 " Don't let your friendship induce you to flatter me. I am not 
 much. It would puzzle you to find any sort of accomplishment 
 in me except the art of riding. I believe I am a good rider — I 
 ought to be, as I have been in the saddle, riding over the hills 
 of Fauquier, since my childhood ; but that is all. I am not 
 intellectual, as Richard was, and I can hardly write at all. As 
 to my soldiei^ship, SuiTy, I am a mere partisan with good eyes 
 and ears, not an educated officer."
 
 ASHBY AMONG HIS MEN. 217 
 
 "Is West Point every thing?" 
 
 " I confess it does not make a great soldier, but I sadly need 
 training. Well, I have done what I could. Little as it is, it was 
 my best, and no man can do more. I can say, if I fall, ' I gave 
 my country all I possessed.' " 
 
 " No one can say more." 
 
 " It is my pride to be able to declare as much. I did not go 
 into this war to receive military renown, or gain rank. God 
 knows I would have laid down my life to prevent it. But what 
 could I do? Our soil was invaded; I was a Virginia gentle- 
 man ; I should have died of shame had I remained at home. 
 For the proud, hard-riding Ashbys to have proved laggards was 
 impossible. So I took my part — and then came that heavy blow 
 which you know of. I confess that it made me bitter, and 
 has added force to many a blow of my sabre. I have killed 
 many. I pitied these people sometimes when my men were 
 cutting them to pieces, but then I seemed to hear a voice in my 
 ears, ' Eemember Richard!' The thought made me merciless, 
 and steeled my heart. I have no doubt that yonder in the North 
 they represent me as a bandit and ruffian, but I appeal to my 
 life to confute their charges. I have fought fairly and openly ; 
 I have never oppressed the weak, or ill-treated a prisoner. In 
 Winchester, some ladies from the North came to me and said, 
 ' General Ashby, we have nothing contraband in our baggage 
 or on our persons. You can search us.' I bowed to them and 
 said, ' I am a Virginia gentleman ; we do not search the trunks 
 or persons of ladies here, madam.' You seel boast — but I am 
 proud to remember that I have never done any thing which was 
 unworthy of my father's son. I have carried on hostilities, in 
 this struggle which my whole heart approves, as a Virginia 
 gentleman should. That consolation, at least, remains." 
 
 " And it ought to be supreme." 
 
 " It is. I have no self-reproach — no regrets. If I could have 
 done more for old Virginia, I would." 
 
 " It is something at least to have lived in the saddle, watched 
 day and night, and risked your life every hour " 
 
 " Risked my life? Is that much to risk ?" 
 10
 
 218 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " It is to most men." 
 
 "It is not to me." 
 
 " I understand —since your great misfortune. But he died 
 like a Southern gentleman, fighting to the last." 
 
 "Well, I hope to do so, too." 
 
 And, making an evident effort to hanish his gloom, Ashby began 
 to converse upon the events of the morning. I drew as grotesque 
 a picture as possible of the confident Sir Percy, and the sleek 
 newspaper-correspondent, to make him laugh, but I could not 
 succeed. His sadness seemed beyond the power of words. 
 
 Taking my leave at last, with that grasp of the hand we bestow 
 upon friends in time of war — friends whose faces we may never 
 see again — I mounted my horse, and set out on my return. 
 
 Fifty yards from the bivouac fire, I chanced to turn my head. 
 
 Ashby was upon his knees, praying. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " VIRGINIANS, CHARGE !" 
 
 General Fremont continued to press forward from Harrison- 
 burg upon Jackson's rear, while General Shields hastened up to 
 intercept him between Port Republic and the Blue Ridge. 
 
 The rear of the army was near Cross Keys, when, as I was 
 riding along with General Jackson, a courier came from Ashby 
 with a dispatch. 
 
 Jackson read it, and then, handing it to me, said : 
 
 " Major, ascertain what force of infantry General Ashby re- 
 quires, and see that he gets it." 
 
 As I went to execute this order, I read the note. Ashby 
 stated that one or two regiments of Federal infantry were press- 
 ing forward incautiously ahead of their column, and that with a 
 small force he felt convinced he could flank and capture them. 
 To obtain General Jackson's sanction of this movement was the 
 object of his note. 
 
 I found Ashby on the summit of a hill, pointing out, with
 
 "VIRGINIANS, CHARGE!" 219 
 
 animated gestures, to General Ewell, the peculiarities of the 
 ground, and its adaptation to a battle. He had completely lost 
 all his sadness of the preceding night ; his swarthy face was full 
 of ardor ; his eyes brilliant with the thought of the approaching 
 contest. 
 
 So striking was this animation in every gesture and movement, 
 that, as I passed the First Maryland Regiment, drawn up on the 
 side of the road near at hand, I saw its commanding officer, 
 Colonel Bradley Johnson, point to the two Generals, and heard 
 him say : 
 
 "Look at Ashby enjoying himself."* 
 
 I saluted and informed General Ashby of Jackson's response 
 to his note. He could have any force he desired. 
 
 " Two regiments will do," was his quick reply. " I will take 
 the First Maryland and the Fifty-eighth Virginia yonder — though 
 it is a mere handful. Look at them!" he exclaimed, with his 
 arm extended at full length, " look ! they are coining on as if we 
 were chaff to be scattered to the winds!" 
 
 And he pointed out a dark column on the road ahead, tipped 
 with burnished bayonets. 
 
 Preparations were rapidly made for the projected attack. 
 Ashby's design was to make a circuit to the right with his in- 
 fantry, while his cavalry remained in the road before the ad- 
 vancing column, as a decoy ; and at the moment when the Fede- 
 ral infantry came opposite to him, exposing its flank, to make a 
 sudden and determined attack upon it. 
 
 But for one of those unforeseen incidents which interpose in 
 all human affairs, this skilful conception would have been crowned 
 with complete success. What defeated it will now be related. 
 
 Ashby hastened to the spot where the two regiments were 
 drawn up under arms, and rapidly issued his orders. The troops 
 were concealed from the enemy by the hill, on which the cavalry 
 were drawn up, and there was no difficulty in moving them, 
 without discovery, in the direction proposed. 
 
 They were promptly in motion, and, exclaiming, " Come, Surry, 
 
 * His word*.
 
 220 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and see me attack them I" Ashby galloped ahead, followed at a 
 rapid pace by the infantry. 
 
 We had ridden about half a mile, when suddenly the report 
 of a gun came from a body of woods in front of us, and a bullet 
 whistled by our heads. 
 
 "What can that be?" exclaimed Ashby, riding coolly ahead; 
 "there can be nothing here." 
 
 " Can the enemy have conceived the same plan as yours — and 
 got thus far?" 
 
 "It is hardly possible." 
 
 Suddenly, in a dense skirting of undergrowth which ran along 
 a fence on the edge of the woods, I saw the glitter of bay- 
 onets. 
 
 " Take care ! There is their line !" I exclaimed. 
 
 As I spoke, a blaze ran along the fence, and a storm of bullets 
 whistled around us. 
 
 Ashby turned and galloped back to his infantry. 
 
 "Forward! double-quick!" was his ringing order, and, rapidly 
 oommunicating with the Colonels, he gave his directions. 
 
 The Fifty-eighth Virginia was to charge the enemy in front, 
 while the First Maryland, formed upon its left, was to turn the 
 Federal right, pour a cross-fire upon them, and then charge with 
 the bayonet. 
 
 In three minutes line of battle was formed, and every thing 
 ready for the attack. 
 
 Ashby placed himself, still on horseback, at the head of the 
 Fifty-eighth Virginia, which resembled a small battalion rather 
 than a regiment, and Colonel Johnson gallantly advanced at the 
 head of the Marylanders on the left. 
 
 I shall never forget the appearance of the landscape at this 
 moment. In front was a wheat field waving with ripe grain, 
 over which rippled long shadows as the wind swept it ; and 
 beyond extended the heavy foliage of the woodland, mellowed 
 by the golden light of the calm June evening. The sun was 
 slowly sinking behind a bank of orange clouds : the serene canopy 
 of soft azure, touched with gold, stretched overhead. It was 
 hard to believe that this beautiful landscape, where seemed to
 
 "VIRGINIANS, CHARGE!" 221 
 
 reign the very genius of repose, was about to become the theatre 
 of a fierce and sanguinary conflict. 
 
 That conflict was not delayed. Ashby found his plan of flank- 
 ing and surprising the enemy completely thwarted • but there 
 they were before him — they had thrown down the challenge — 
 and he was not the man to refuse it. 
 
 Storn, obstinate " fight " was in his bronze face and sparkling 
 eyes, as he rapidly threw forward his line toward the fringe of 
 bushes on the edge of the woods, where the enemy were con- 
 cealed ; and, in an instant, the action commenced. 
 
 It speedily began to rage with extraordinary fury. The Fifty- 
 eighth Virginia poured volley after volley into the undergrowth, 
 where, lying behind a fence, the Federal line awaited their at- 
 tack; and from the left was heard the hot fire of the Maryland- 
 ers, rapidly advancing to turn the Federal flank. 
 
 They now saw their danger, and opened a rapid and destructive 
 fire both upon the Virginians and Marylanders, in front and 
 flank. The undergrowth blazed with musketry; a continuous 
 roar reverberated through the woods; and the enemy — the 
 Pennsylvania "Bucktails," Colonel Kane — met the attack upon 
 them with a gallantry which proved that they were picked 
 troops. 
 
 Ashby continued to advance on horseback at the head of the 
 Virginians, waving his sword and cheering them on ; and Colonel 
 Johnson pressed forward, pouring a hot fire into the enemy's 
 flank. The latter had now gotten so close, and was in so favor- 
 ahle a position for a final charge, that Ashby saw the moment 
 had come for the bayonet. 
 
 At that instant his appearance was superb. He was riding a 
 bay horse — the same ridden by Jackson at the first battle of 
 Manassas * — and as he reined in the excited animal with one 
 hand, and pointed with the sword in his other to the enemy, his 
 dark face was full of the fire of battle, his eyes blazed, and in his 
 voice, as clear and sonorous as the ring of a clarion, spoke, as it 
 were, the very genius of battle. 
 
 * Historical. This horse was the property of Lieutenant James Thomson, <)/ Wv» 
 Horse Artillery — one of the bravest spirits of the war.
 
 222 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I think of him often as I saw him at that moment, charging, 
 with unconquerable spirit, at the head of his men. 
 
 The Marylanders were almost in contact with the enemy when 
 Ashby ordered the men of the Fifty-eighth to cease their fire, 
 and close upon the enemy with the bayonet. 
 
 "Virginians, charge!"* came ringing from his lips, when a 
 bullet suddenly pierced his horse's chest, and, advancing a few 
 yards, the animal reeled and fell. 
 
 Ashby was upon his feet in a moment, and, pointing with his 
 sword to the Federal line, now not more than fifty yards distant, 
 continued to cheer on the men — when all at once I saw him 
 stagger. A bullet had penetrated his breast, and I caught him 
 in my arms, just as he was falling. 
 
 "You are wounded !" I exclaimed. 
 
 " I am done for, Surry," he replied, faintly ; then extending 
 his arm, while I saw the pallor of death overspread his features, 
 he murmured : 
 
 " Tell my Virginians to press them with the bayonet!" 
 
 His head fell back as he spoke, and I laid him on the ground, 
 supporting his shoulders upon my breast. 
 
 "I told you — last night — but it is a good death!" he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 At that instant the shouts of the Southerners told that they 
 had driven the enemy before them, and were hotly pursuing them 
 through the woods. 
 
 "What is that?" exclaimed Ashby, half rising, with a flush 
 upon his face. 
 
 " The enemy are flying." 
 
 A sudden light flashed from his eyes, he tried to rise, but fell 
 back in my arms. 
 
 "Tell them I died in harness, fighting to the last!" he ex- 
 claimed — and, as the words left his lips^ he expired. 
 
 Such was the death of Ashby, " the Knight of the Valley." 
 
 * His words.
 
 CUT OFF. 223 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 CUT OFF. 
 
 With Ashby seemed to pass away all the splendor, the glory, 
 the romance of the war. I could scarcely realize that the whole 
 scene which I had witnessed was not some hideous dream — some 
 nightmare of the hours of darkness. 
 
 Dead? — he who had passed unscathed through so many bloody 
 encounters — who had seemed to possess a charmed life which 
 no enemy's ball or blade could touch ? Ashby, the hero of such 
 romantic adventures, splendid achievements, and heroic exploits, 
 dead, like a common, every- day mortal, and never more to lead 
 his men, with flashing sabre, in the charge ? The idea seemed 
 monstrous — incredible. 
 
 But slowly came the realization of the truth. He was gone — 
 the dauntless cavalier, the noble gentleman, the charming and 
 winning companion. Who could supply his place ? Under 
 whom would the horsemen of the Valley fight so recklessly ? — 
 and what other leader could inspire them with that spirit which 
 overthrows all obstacles ? 
 
 I asked myself that question, and then came another thought 
 — where will you find another friend like this pure spirit ? — who 
 can take his place with you ? 
 
 I cannot draw the great outline of this splendid chevalier in 
 my hasty memoirs; some abler hand will trace it — some more 
 eloquent voice speak of his virtues. For me, I loved and will 
 ever love him, as the perfect flower of chivalry. When he dis- 
 appeared, the bloom seemed to pass away from the summer 
 flowers, the azure from the calm June sky. Brave men were 
 left, and the future was to be as glorious as the past — but, with 
 this gentle heart, this perfect chevalier, seemed to fade the splen- 
 dor and romance of the fresh dewy morning of the war. Thence- 
 forth, it was a thing of sweat and blood and toil under a burning 
 sky. 
 
 I come back to the narrative of events.
 
 224 SURRY OP EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The column under General Fremont was now pressing hotly 
 upon Jackson's rear, between Harrisonburg and Port Republic ; 
 and that under General Shields was hastening rapidly to place 
 itself between him and Brown's Gap — the avenue of exit from 
 the Valley. Jackson must retreat, if he retreated at all, by that 
 Gap, as the panic-stricken citizens had destroyed the bridges 
 above Harrisonburg ; and, if General Premont could only delay 
 his adversary sufficiently long to enable General Shields to come 
 up, the fate of the Confederate commander seemed decided. 
 
 Prom this moment commenced that admirable game of strategy 
 by which Jackson aimed to crush his adversaries in detail. He 
 had destroyed the bridge over the Shenandoah at Conrad's Store, 
 thereby preventing a junction between the two Federal columns ; 
 and, establishing his head-quarters in the town of Port Republic, 
 prepared, with his main body, to attack General Shields, while 
 Ewell remained in front of General Fremont, and held him in 
 check. Shields once defeated, Jackson intended to recross to 
 the west bank of the Shenandoah, re-enforce Ewell, and, falling 
 upon General Fremont, decide every thing by a pitched battle. 
 
 I shall not stop here to speak of General Jackson's emotion 
 when he received intelligence of the death of Ashby. His opinion 
 of that officer was afterward expressed in his report. " An 
 official report," wrote Jackson, "is not an appropriate place for 
 more than a passing notice of the distinguished dead ; but the 
 close relation which General Ashby bore to my command, for 
 most of the previous twelve months, will justify me in saying 
 that, as a partisan officer, I never knew his superior. His daring 
 was proverbial ; his powers of endurance almost incredible ; his 
 tone of character heroic ; and his sagacity almost intuitive in 
 divining the purposes and movements of the enemy." 
 
 Such was the epitaph of Ashby, traced by the hand of Jackson. 
 It will live in the memories of the people of Virginia when 
 bronze has rusted away and the hard marble crumbled into dust. 
 
 Jackson's head-quarters had been established, as I have said, 
 at Port Republic — with his own division just opposite the town, 
 on the western bank of the Shenandoah, and Ewell at Cross 
 Keys, a few miles distant toward Harrisonburg — when, early on
 
 CUT OFF. 225 
 
 the morning of the 8th of June, a company of cavalry, which had 
 been sent down the Luray Valley, came galloping panic-stricken 
 into the town, announcing the rapid approach of Shields. 
 
 The truth of the report was soon exhibited m a manner far 
 from agreeable. 
 
 The enemy's advance force of cavalry and artillery thundered 
 into the town ; a gun was unlimbered and placed in battery near 
 the bridge over the Shenandoah, so as completely to command 
 it — and Jackson was cut off from his army ! 
 
 He had hastily mounted, as the few scattering shots indicated 
 the rapid advance of the enemy ; and, as he saw the Federal 
 artillery unlimber at the bridge, his face 'flushed. 
 
 " We are cut off, General ! " exclaimed one of the staff. 
 
 "Yes!" came curtly from the General, "but lam not going 
 to remain cut off." 
 
 And he rode, with perfect coolness, toward the bridge. 
 
 I followed, with an internal conviction that the whole party 
 would soon be enjoying an interview with General Shields, as 
 his prisoners. 
 
 What followed, took place in the space of two minutes. 
 
 Jackson rode straight toward the piece of artillery, whose grim 
 muzzle was pointed so as to rake the bridge in front of it, with 
 every cannoneer at his place. 
 
 When he was within twenty yards of the gun, he coolly rose 
 in his stirrups, and called out, in the calmest possible manner : 
 
 " Who ordered this gun to be placed here ?" 
 
 I did not hear the reply of the officer in command of the piece, 
 but he evidently mistook Jackson for some general or colonel 
 of the Federal forces, and approached him with a deferential 
 salute. 
 
 "Bring the gun over here!" the General called out. 
 
 And, as the men hastened to obey, he set spurs to his horse 
 and darted at full gallop upon the bridge. 
 
 The whole scene had taken but a moment. At one instant the 
 colloquy with the Federal officer was taking place — at the next we 
 were clattering across the wooden flooring of the bridge. 
 
 1 looked back as we went — the cannoneers were running to 
 10
 
 226 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 their gun ; they were seen rapidly to load ; and then a roar was 
 heard, and a shell screamed over our heads. Another and another 
 followed, so close that we felt the wind which they made ; but 
 suddenly we reached ground which afforded cover — and Jackson 
 was safe.* 
 
 He still continued his way at full speed, and, reaching the 
 campg of his division, which had been suddenly aroused by the 
 firing, caught his cap from his head, and, waving it, exclaimed : 
 
 "Beat the long roll!" 
 
 The drums rolled ; the troops fell into line ; and, rushing his 
 artillery into position, Jackson opened a rapid fire upon the 
 enemy in the town. 
 
 Taliaferro's brigade now hastened forward ; one of his regi- 
 ments charged across, capturing the gun which had fired upon 
 us ; and the enemy's cavalry, with the infantry supports in their 
 rear, hastily retreated from the town, and were pursued down 
 the river. 
 
 Such was the narrow escape made by Jackson. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 FREMONT CHECKED. 
 
 This incident immediately preceded the battles of Cross Keys 
 and Port Republic. 
 
 I am not writing a history, my dear reader, and I refer you to 
 the "official reports" of these great occurrences for the move- 
 ments of the various bodies, the names of the regiments and 
 brigades, and the exploits of this or that commander. 
 
 I write from memory — and memory is so treacherous I You 
 forget almost all that is "important," and recall only some trifle 
 which chanced to attract your attention. I picked up a black 
 lace veil when we captured McOlellan's depot at the " White 
 
 * The gun here mentioned" belonged, as I afterward heard, to Captain Robinson'* 
 battery, from Portsmouth, Ohio, lie wu in command at the time.
 
 FREMONT CHECKED. 227 
 
 House," and I remember it perfectly, though I have nearly for- 
 gotten that great conflagration. At Fredericksburg, a girl's 
 slipper, dropped in the street as she ran from the enemy's shell, 
 interested me more than the long rows of bullet-riddled houses 
 and the bloody action ! 
 
 The advance force of General Shields had hardly been driven 
 from Port Republic before General Ewell became hotly engaged 
 with Fremont at " Cross Keys." 
 
 Cross Keys is a locality about four or five miles from Port 
 Republic, where a tavern with such a sign used to stand, I am 
 informed. I could only see a stream, woods, and a red hill, 
 upon which our artillery was in position. On both flanks were 
 woods — in front the road approached through open fields. 
 
 The enemy advanced and opened a hot artillery fire about ten 
 in the morning, and kept it up for some hours. Then, as though 
 this had grown tedious, their infantry was marshalled in heavy 
 lines, and a furious attack was made upon General Trimble, who 
 held Ewell's right. 
 
 He waited until the Federal line had mounted the crest of a 
 hill within close range, and then a blaze ran along the Southern 
 lines, and the crash of musketry followed. 
 
 This sudden and determined fire produced a decisive effect. 
 The Federal line gave way, fell back rapidly ; and seeing a bat- 
 tery coming into position in his front, Trimble charged it, and 
 chased the whole force more than a mile. 
 
 Ewell now threw forward his whole line, attacked with 
 vigor, and the enemy retired before him. They largely out- 
 numbered him, as was ascertained from captured documents, and 
 I could never account for this easy victory until I discovered the 
 composition of the troops. They were nearly all Dutch. 
 
 At nightfall, Ewell had driven the enemy some distance, es- 
 tablished his lines considerably in advance, and then awaited 
 further orders.
 
 228 SURRY OP E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 LXY. 
 
 EXEUNT OMNES. 
 
 Jaokson had returned to his head-quarters in Port Republic, 
 and was up receiving reports and attending to business all night. 
 
 I never saw him cooler or more collected. Events were rush- 
 ing on, and the decisive moment had at last arrived ; but, instead 
 of becoming flurried and excited, he grew more calm. 
 
 His designs now became clearly developed. Orders were dis- 
 patched to General Ewell to move his main force, during the 
 night, into Port Republic ; leaving a small body of troops only 
 in General Fremont's front: and, an hour or two afterward, 
 Colonel Patton, left in command of this force, came to General 
 Jackson's head-quarters to obtain specific instructions. The 
 ground he was to fall back over, if hard pressed, the Colonel 
 declared to be exceedingly unfavorable for such a movement; 
 and he desired to ascertain exactly the General's wishes. 
 
 "Hold your position as long as possible," was Jackson's reply, 
 " only retiring when you cannot maintain your ground. Then 
 fall back slowly, fighting at every step, and, by the blessing of 
 Providence, I hope to be with you before ten o'clock to-mor- 
 row."* 
 
 The General's design was thus obvious, and I laid down to 
 snatch an hour's sleep, before the attack on General Shields. 
 
 I was aroused at daylight. Jackson had already put his forces 
 in motion. The long column defiled through the town of Port 
 Republic, crossed the South River Fork of the Shenandoah on 
 some wagon-bodies sunk in the stream, and soon the firing in 
 front began. 
 
 "Come, Major!" 
 
 And Jackson rapidly got into the saddle. 
 
 "Winder is engaged," he said, as we rode along, "but I am 
 afraid the enemy's force is too great for him." 
 
 * His words.
 
 EXEUNT OMETES. 229 
 
 "We reached the field, about three miles from the town, just 
 before sunrise, and events soon occurred which fully justified the 
 General's fears. 
 
 The river here makes a bend in the shape of a crescent ; and 
 the ground thus enclosed was waving with a magnificent wheat 
 crop, glowing in the fair June morning. On the right was an 
 elevated piece of ground — and here the enemy were posted in 
 heavy force. 
 
 Their long lines stretched, dark and menacing, across the 
 wheat field ; the high ground on their left was crowned with 
 artillery ; and the United States flag rippled proudly in the breeze. 
 
 The banner of the Stonewall Brigade — the Virgin of Virginia — 
 advanced defiantly to meet it, and, with a roar like thunder from 
 the opposing batteries, the battle began. 
 
 The advantage derived by the enemy from the commanding 
 position on their left now became fatally obvious. The ranks 
 of the Stonewall Brigade were torn by a deadly fire of shell and 
 canister; and, taking advantage of this circumstance, the Fed- 
 eral right and centre rushed forward, charged the Southern 
 artillery, and, pouring a destructive fire into the infantry, forced 
 both to fall back in disorder. 
 
 The action seemed about to be decided at a blow. The Federal 
 infantry, dark against the golden wheat, was pouring on in one 
 continuous stream, firing as it came ; and our artillery went off 
 at a gallop to escape capture. 
 
 "Bad, very bad!" came curtly from Jackson, as he hurried to 
 the spot. " Major, tell General Ewell to hurry up ; no time is 
 to be lost." 
 
 I found General Ewell approaching with his column, and de- 
 livered the message. Jackson's order was promptly responded 
 to. Two Virginia regiments were advanced at a double-quick : 
 Jackson placed himself at their head and galloped forward : theD 
 came the long roar of musketry, as they suddenly fell with fury 
 on the flank of the triumphant enemy. 
 
 Their advance was instantly checked, but the heavy batterie9 
 upon the right still raked the field with a fire so destructive that 
 no troops could sustain it. The shell, round shot, canister, and
 
 230 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 grape tore the ranks to pieces, and it was obvious that, as long 
 as those guns held their position, nothing could be effected. 
 
 The Federal infantry, for a moment checked, now re-formed 
 their line, and were evidently preparing for a more determined 
 charge. Soon it came. 
 
 The batteries on the high ground redoubled their thunders ; 
 the plain was swept as by a hurricane — and then the Federal 
 flag was seen pointing forward, its folds rippling as it came, 
 and beneath it the long line rushed on, with shouts and volleys 
 which seemed to shake the ground. 
 
 So determined was this charge that the Southern lines gave 
 back before it — the enemy rushed on — the battle seemed lost. 
 
 I was by General Jackson's side at this moment, and never 
 shall forget the stern, immovable resolution of his iron face. 
 The heavy jaws were locked together ; the cheeks flushed ; from 
 the keen eyes lightning seemed to dart. 
 
 " Those batteries must be silenced," he said, briefly, to Ewell, 
 who was by his side. 
 
 At that moment General Taylor rode hastily up. 
 
 " General," said Jackson, in the briefest of tones, " can you 
 take that battery?" 
 
 "I think I can, sir," was Taylor's cheerful response. 
 
 " It must be taken, or the day is lost."* 
 
 A chivalric flash darted from Taylor's eyes, and, wheeling his 
 horse, he galloped to his command, which had just formed line 
 of battle on the right, near the ground where Jackson stood. 
 
 Taylor's sword flashed out, he rose in his stirrups, and, pointing 
 with the weapon toward the Federal artillery, he called out, in 
 his ringing voice : 
 
 » 
 
 " Louisianians ! can you take those guns ?" * 
 
 A wild cheer rose from the brigade for sole reply. 
 
 "Forward, then!" was Taylor's sonorous order. "Charge 
 the battery, and take it !"* 
 
 Ilii line swept forward at the word, on fire with enthusiasm, 
 and, rushing through the tangled undergrowth, wa3 seen the 
 
 * His words.
 
 EXEUNT OMNES. 231 
 
 next moment rapidly mounting a slope beyond. The ranks had 
 been broken by the rough ground over which they had advanced, 
 but Taylor was now seen, with drawn sword, in front of them — 
 the straggling lines re-formed, in close order, for the charge — and, 
 steadily, unmoved by the heavy fire poured upon them from the 
 Federal batteries, they continued to advance. 
 
 What followed could be plainly seen from the position which 
 we occupied. 
 
 Between Taylor and the Federal guns now intervened only a 
 skirt of woods and a little valley. Beyond this valley was the 
 crest, flaming like a crater. 
 
 For a moment the gray line did not reappear beyond the 
 skirt of woods. Jackson's face filled with blood. He evidently 
 feared that the men had recoiled in face of the certain death 
 which awaited a charge upon this volcano. 
 
 All at once, a ringing shout was heard from the woods ; the 
 Federal artillery directed upon the point a rapid and deadly fire 
 — then Taylor's line was seen to emerge from cover and rush 
 down the hill. 
 
 The next moment it began to ascend the opposite slope, 
 straight upon the muzzles of the Federal guns. The fire which 
 greeted the charge was frightful. The guns were discharged 
 so rapidly that the sound resembled volleys of artillery ; and 
 directly in the faces of the men was launched a tempest of 
 grape, canister, and shell. 
 
 The spectacle was sublime ; not for an instant did they recoil. 
 The lines were literally hurled back as the iron storm swept 
 through them, mangling and tearing men to pieces — but the 
 ranks closed up again ; the shouts of the Louisianians rang, 
 clear and defiant, above the roar ; and then they were seen to 
 dash upon the guns, and strike their bayonets into the flying 
 cannoneers. 
 
 Taylor had taken the Federal guns whose fire was so destruc- 
 tive, but he was not to hold them without a terrible struggle. 
 
 The enemy immediately concentrated a heavy infantry force 
 in his front — charged him with desperation — and retook the 
 pieces at the point of the bayonet.
 
 232 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Taylor fell back — his men fighting desperately ; but suddenly 
 the retrograde ceased, the opposing lines grappled almost in a 
 breast-to-breast struggle ; then, with echoing cheers, the Louisi- 
 anians again rushed forward, and recaptured the pieces. 
 
 Three times they were lost and won, in this desperate struggle ; 
 but, at last, Taylor drove back the line in his front sufficiently 
 far to bring off the pieces. Then he drew up his shattered com- 
 mand to sustain the final assault upon it. 
 
 But his determined attack had changed the whole face of 
 affairs. The enemy had been compelled to re-enforce their left 
 by withdrawing troops from their centre and right, which had 
 pressed so hard on Jackson ; and this, in turn, enabled Jackson 
 to move his forces from the left to the right. 
 
 Taylor thus found himself fully re-enforced ; his men held 
 their ground with new resolution ; and the opposing lines rushed 
 together in a mortal struggle. 
 
 It was soon decided. Attacked in front by Jackson's infantry, 
 and subjected to a heavy fire from his batteries on the left, the 
 Federal lines began obviously to waver. The musketry fire re- 
 doubled ; the Southern lines rushed forward with cheers ; and, 
 giving way in disorder, the enemy retired in confusion from tho 
 field. 
 
 They were followed with a heavy fire — pursued for miles — • 
 and, when the infantry were too weary to go further, the cavalry 
 took up the pursuit. 
 
 At this moment a new actor appeared upon the scene. 
 
 Suddenly, a furious roar came from the western bank of the 
 Shenandoah, opposite Port Republic — and General Fremont's 
 forces appeared upon the elevated ground, and his artillery 
 opened fire upon the parties engaged in burying the Federal and 
 the Confederate dead. 
 
 It was too late — Shields was defeated, and Fremont could not 
 cross. Jackson had ordered the force in his front near Cross 
 Keys to fall back and burn the bridge — this had been done — and 
 now General Fremont was subjected to the mortification of see- 
 ing his brother general crushed before his eyes, without the 
 power of coming to his assistance.
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 233 
 
 I have always considered this the most "dramatic" scene, as 
 the French say, of the war : 
 
 General Shields flying in disorder, hotly pursued ; General 
 FremoDt gnashing his teeth upon the opposite bank of the river ; 
 and Jackson looking calmly on, with the grim smile of the 
 victor. 
 
 On the next day, General Fremont retreated down the Valley, 
 and Jackson remained undisputed master of the country. 
 
 LXYI. 
 
 IN WHICH THE WRITER OF THESE MEMOIRS IS TAKEN 
 
 TO TASK. 
 
 After writing the preceding chapter, my dear reader, I rose, 
 walked to the window, and, looking out upon the tranquil Rap- 
 pahannock, so vividly in contrast with the hurrying scenes I had 
 been describing, muttered : " It appears to me that my memoirs 
 are becoming a pure and simple history of the war in Virginia." 
 
 Now, worthy reader, however noble and dignified the Muse 
 of History may appear in her stately robes, I have always had 
 a preference for the gay little Muse of Comedy, with her 
 caprices, witcheries, and "wanton wiles." She is not half so 
 solemn and imposing as her grave sister, but she is more interest- 
 ing. If anybody laughs or cries, she finds it out, and tells you 
 all about it — nay, she cries herself with the disconsolate ones, 
 and laughs with the mirthful. There is not a smile or a tear 
 that she will not share — she is the Muse, not of History, but 
 simply of Comedy, you see. 
 
 She had been tugging at my skirts all this time, while I have 
 been relating the events of the Valley campaign, and whisper- 
 ing in my ear, " I am growing tired of all these great generals 
 and bloody battles. I wish to hear about some other personages 
 whom you have introduced to me. There is Captain Mordaunt, 
 that mysterious personage ; and May Beverley, and Violet Graf- 
 ton, and others. Where is Stuart, the peerless cavalier, Sweeny,
 
 234 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 the banjo-player, Hagan, the giant corporal, and all the rest? 
 What's become of Fenwick, tbe serpent, and his cheerful com- 
 panion, Mrs. Parkins? Has Captain Baskerville been wounded 
 in any action, and what of Will Surry, of the United States 
 Army ? Ar«s all these personages to be sacrificed upon the 
 remorseless altars of History — are we to have nothing but bat- 
 tles, battles, battles ?" 
 
 Pardon, gentle muse, for the infliction. True, battles become 
 weariness. Carnage bores at last; death becomes the normal 
 condition of things, and ceases to interest. But it was the 
 great figure of Ashby that enthralled me. Watching the flash 
 of his bright sabre in the charge, or talking with him by the 
 camp-fire after the hard-fought day, I forgot all else, and could 
 see, in all the world, that noble figure only. Hereafter, I shall 
 leave to the historian the detailed narration of great battles. 
 When they cross my path they shall not detain me long, gentle 
 muse ! 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 LEE STEIKES. 
 
 The campaign of the Valley ended on the 9th of June. On 
 the 26th, Jackson was at Ashland, within sixteen miles of Rich- 
 mond, rapidly advancing to throw his veteran corps against the 
 right flank of General McClellan. 
 
 I am not going to describe at length, my dear reader, the 
 great struggle which soon took place on the swampy banks of 
 the Chickahominy. See the histories. They are detailed, im- 
 partial, and strictly reliable. There you will discover that both 
 sides whipped ; that General McClellan was utterly defeated, 
 and yet only " changed his base ;" that the great campaign 
 against Richmond was ended at a blow, and yet that the Federal 
 army secured a better position for more decisive operations. 
 
 All this and more you will learn from the histories, which 
 never fib. I am only going to record a few incidents.
 
 LEE STRIKES. 235 
 
 Jackson received at Ashland a note from General Stuart, ad- 
 dressed, " General T. J. Jackson, somewhere," and his corps con- 
 tinued its advance — now preceded hy the cavalry — reaching the 
 vicinity of Old Cold Harbor House on the afternoon of the 27th, 
 just as A. P. Hill recoiled from McOlellan's almost impregnable 
 position. 
 
 Immediately the veteran legions of the Valley were thrown 
 forward, and the woods reverberated. 
 
 Jackson was riding about on an old gaunt bay, peering out 
 from beneath his cap, drawn down upon his forehead, and suck- 
 ing a lemon. Calling a staff officer to him, he said : 
 
 " Major, ride to General Lee, present my compliments, and 
 eay that I have closed in on the front and rear of the enemy, 
 and am pressing forward."* 
 
 At this moment, Stuart — now brigadier-general — rode up, 
 and a warm greeting took place between the two commanders. 
 The blue eyes of the great cavalier flashed — in his ruddy, 
 heavily bearded face was the joy of the coming conflict. 
 
 "Well, General," he said, "you are attacking?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " My command is ready to cut them off if they attempt to 
 retreat toward Old Church. I have told the men to get ready 
 for tough work." 
 
 " Good. What gun is that, General, so hotly engaged in front ?" 
 
 " One of Captain Pelham's Napoleons ; he is a splendid young 
 fellow, and is fighting like a tiger!" 
 
 "Yes! There is one of my batteries about to relieve him." 
 
 At the next moment a young officer, slender, beardless, 
 modest-looking, and covered with dust, came from the front. 
 His blue eyes flashed, his firm lips gave evidence of an uncon- 
 querable spirit. 
 
 "This is Captain Pelham, General," said Stuart; "he has 
 fought with one gun that whole battalion on the hill, at point- 
 blank range, for nearly an hour." 
 
 Jackson held out his hand, and the young artillerist took it 
 with a low bow, blushing as he did so, like a girl.t 
 
 * His words. t Historic*!.
 
 236 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The battle had now begun to rage with fury, and, as Jackson 
 rode to and fro, in the great field by the Old Cold Harbor 
 House, courier after courier came and went, bringing him in- 
 telligence. His calm expression had not left him; but under 
 his cap rim the dark eyes blazed. 
 
 A staff-officer galloped up. 
 
 " General Hood directs me to say, General, that his line is 
 enfiladed by a battery of thirty-pound Parrotts, which are 
 decimating his men, and making it impossible for him to. 
 advance." 
 
 Jackson rose in his stirrups and said : 
 
 " Give my compliments to General nood, and tell him to hold 
 his position. I will silence the battery. Mr. Douglas," he added, 
 to one of his staff, " go back and get fifteen or eighteen guns, 
 attack that battery, and see that the enemy's guns are either 
 silenced or destroyed."* 
 
 In twenty minutes a tremendous fire was opened from the 
 left upon the Federal battery, and then Hood's men were seen 
 to rush forward, charging, with loud cheers. 
 
 At this stage of the action, I was sent by General Jackson with 
 a message to one of his generals ; and only mention the incident 
 to record my first meeting with one whom I afterward knew 
 well — a very brave and remarkable person. I had delivered my 
 message, and was galloping back, when I saw a regiment almost 
 torn to pieces by the horrible fire of the artillery and infantry 
 on the crest in front. This fire was so appalling that the men 
 could not endure it, and were seeking everywhere in the low, 
 swampy ground, for some shelter from the hurricane of canister 
 which swept it. 
 
 I regarded it as my duty to attempt to rally the men, knowing, 
 as I did, that, if the line was broken at that point, Jackson's 
 whole position would be seriously endangered ; and I accordingly 
 endeavored to induce the stragglers and scattered detachments 
 to rally again around their colors, and charge the artillery, which 
 was flaming in front. 
 
 * His words.
 
 LEE STRIKES. 237 
 
 This is one of the most disagreeable portions of a staff-officer's 
 duty; for if the immediate commanders of troops — their cap- 
 tains and colonels — cannot control them, it is still more difficult 
 for an unknown officer to do so. It was, nevertheless, my duty 
 to make the attempt, and I did so, but with small results. The 
 stragglers paid little heed to me — every one was "sick," or 
 "wounded," or in equally bad plight. In plain words, the fire 
 was so deadly that they were unwilling to charge in face of it. 
 
 Ill success had put me in something like a rage, as, with drawn 
 sword, I galloped up to a man separated from the regiment, and 
 ordered him, in a hot and imperious tone, to rejoin his com- 
 mand. 
 
 He turned and looked at me with a cool air of surprise, and, 
 as he had just loaded and capped a peculiar double-barrelled 
 English rifle which he held in his hand, he took deliberate aim 
 at a Federal officer, visible upon a hill near, and fired. 
 
 The officer fell, and as the personage with the rifle turned 
 round I had a good view of him. 
 
 He was a young man, apparently about twenty-five or six, 
 lithe, erect, and vigorously knit. He wore top-boots, a long 
 blue coat, with a belt, containing a pistol, strapped around his 
 waist ; and over his forehead fell a brown hat, decorated with a 
 black feather. His face was handsome and intelligent ; his eyes 
 dark and soft ; his complexion sunburnt ; and his mild-looking 
 lips were surmounted by a delicate black mustache. 
 
 There was an air of immovable calmness and repose about 
 this man, even at the instant when he brought down his enemy, 
 which was very striking. 
 
 " Did you speak to me ?" he said, in a courteous voice, very 
 low-toned and mild. 
 
 I was in a rage at my ill success with the stragglers. 
 
 "Yes! Join your regiment there! Everyman must be in 
 his place !" 
 
 "I do not belong to that regiment," he said, as coolly as before. 
 
 " To what, then ?" 
 
 "lama staff- officer, sir — Captain Farley, of General Stuart's 
 staff."
 
 238 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I saw the error into which ray haste and hot blood had be- 
 trayed me, and hastened to beg Captain Farley's pardon. 
 
 "No harm done, Major," was his smiling reply, in his low, 
 peculiar voice. " I suppose you are trying to get the men up — ■ 
 but you cannot do it. The line here is so thin, and the Yankees in 
 such a powerful position yonder, that nothing can be done with- 
 out re-enforcements." 
 
 I saw the justice of these words, after reconnoitring tbe 
 Federal position. 
 
 " We will whip them," said Captain Farley, philosophically. 
 " I went in with that regiment, as an amateur, the cavalry not 
 being engaged ; and have been trying to blow up some caissons, 
 with explosive balls — but have had no luck. I have, however, 
 killed three officers." 
 
 And the speaker quietly reloaded his empty barrel with a 
 peculiar-looking cartridge, which he took from a fine English 
 satchel made for the missile. lie seemed entirely unconscious 
 of the hail-storm of bullets which hissed around him, cutting 
 twigs from the trees, during this operation ; and, as I galloped 
 off, I saw him again taking deliberate aim at an officer waving 
 his sword in front of the Federal line upon the hill before us.* 
 
 In consequence of the intelligence I brought, Jackson immedi- 
 ately moved a brigade to re-enforce the line where it threatened 
 to give way ; and the battle raged more and more furiously. 
 
 Half an hour passed ; and then a courier from General D. H. 
 Hill brought a dispatch, saying that he was hard pressed and re- 
 quired re-enforcements. 
 
 " "Where is the Stonewall Brigade ?" asked Jackson, briefly. 
 
 "Just behind that hill, General," replied one of the staff, 
 pointing to a wooded acclivity. 
 
 " Order it to advance to the support of General Hill." 
 
 The officer galloped off, disappeared in the woods, and very 
 soon the long line of glittering bayonets emerged from the foli- 
 age — the red battle-flag in front. 
 
 Jackson's eyes flashed. 
 
 * Historical,
 
 LEE STRIKES. 239 
 
 " Good!" he said; "we will have good news in a few minutes 
 now!"* 
 
 The Stonewall Brigade rapidly crossed the wide field, plunged 
 into the woods, and then was heard the long, steady, continuous 
 roll of the musketry, as they came to the support of Hill. 
 
 From that moment, the battle was a mortal struggle — on the 
 enemy's part, to defend the bristling crest, frowning with triple 
 lines of breastworks ; and on the part of the Southerners, to 
 storm and carry the works with the bayonet. The sun slowly 
 sank amid a haze of smoke, dust, and, you would have said, of 
 blood, so fiery was its drapery of cloud. 
 
 Jackson was talking with Stuart, his eyes glaring now, and 
 sucking his lemon, when a staff-officer galloped up and said : 
 
 " General Ewell directs me to say, sir, that the enemy do not 
 give way in his front." 
 
 Jackson rose in his stirrups until his form was as stiff and 
 
 erect as an arrow. His eyes blazed — his teeth were ground 
 
 together. Stretching out his hand containing the lemon, he 
 
 6aid: 
 
 " Tell General Ewell, if they stand at sunset, to press them with 
 
 the bayonet!"* 
 
 General Stuart exclaimed : 
 
 " The officer may be shot! — send another, too, General." 
 
 "Right!" said Jackson; and, turning to one of his couriers, 
 he said : 
 
 "Pirn go!" 
 
 Major Pendleton, his adjutant-general, that young officer of a 
 courage so splendid, volunteered to carry the message ; and soon 
 the roar of guns redoubled in front ; then tumultuous cheers 
 were heard, as the Southern line charged. 
 
 Just as the sun sank, Jackson's whole line — Hood's Texans 
 before the rest — swept forward in one wild bayonet charge ; 
 and, from the fury of the shouts, and the long crash of the 
 musketry, it was plain that the decisive assault was being made. 
 
 In a few moments, that electric shout which indicates success 
 rose from the w r oods, and made the pukes leap. 
 
 * llis words.
 
 240 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The Southern troops had charged the crest, flaming like a vol- 
 cano, upon which the enemy were posted — swept them from it 
 with the hayonet — and terminated the struggle. 
 
 It was like the conflict between the Titans and the gods of old 
 mythology — but the Titans stormed and took the heights from 
 which their opponents hurled the thunderbolts. 
 
 As the sun disappeared, McClellan's forces were in full retreat, 
 pursued by the Southern troops. 
 
 Jackson was riding in and out between the guns, still pouring 
 a steady fire — and the glare of the burning woods lit up his 
 flashing eyes as he conversed with Stuart. 
 
 McClellan was thus defeated, and in full retreat toward James 
 River. Jackson's corps held the front in the pursuit, and had 
 a haid fight at the bridge in White Oak Swamp. 
 
 Then came the desperate struggle of Malvern Hill, which was 
 a bad affair for us. The Federal commander massed his artillery, 
 held his ground until night, aud then retreated to Harrison's 
 Landing, under cover of his gunboats. 
 
 " Now is the time," exclaimed Jackson, " for an advance into 
 Pennsylvania! The Scipio Africanus policy is the best!"* 
 
 No such advance was made. Jackson's supreme military in- 
 stinct told him that General McOlellan was paralyzed — but the 
 authorities at Richmond doubted. Thus the golden moment 
 passed. Soon intelligence came that another Federal army was 
 rapidly assembling north of the Rappahannock. 
 
 No new advance upon Richmond, however, was intended — 
 that army was to protect Washington. The Federal authorities 
 agreed with Jackson. They knew that the Army of Northern 
 Virginia ought to advance, and they acted upon the sound mili- 
 tary maxim, always to give an enemy credit for intending to do 
 what he ought to do. 
 
 But the hour of destiny had passed — the opportunity slipped 
 away. Who counselled this inaction ? It is impossible that it 
 was General Lee, for one day after Malvern Hill, Jackson said 
 to an officer : 
 
 * His words.
 
 5 
 
 
 
 S 
 
 4 
 
 CO 
 
 1
 
 LEE STRIKES. 241 
 
 * 4 1 hoar that some persons say General Lee is slow. He is not 
 •low. I have known him for five and twenty years, and he is 
 the only man I would follow blindfold !"* 
 
 It was on the field of Cold Harbor that I first saw General 
 Robert E. Lee ; and I have never seen a nobler type of manhood 
 than this bravo old cavalier — then known to very few — now one 
 of the immortals. 
 
 Here is his outline : 
 
 Fancy, my dear reader, a man apparently about fifty years of 
 age ; tall in stature, erect as an arrow, and with a certain air of 
 simplicity and grandeur in every movement of his person. His 
 hair was gray, like his beard and mustache'; his eye clear, pene- 
 trating, benignant, and yet full of that latent fire which betray3 
 a powerful organization. His uniform was plain, and somewhat 
 faded — the riding cape, upon his shoulders, evidently an old 
 friend — and his brown felt hat was wholly without decoration. 
 But it was impossible to mistake the general. His calm and 
 collected air ; his grave and measured courtesy without abandon; 
 his perfect seat in the saddle, for he had been a cavalry officer — 
 all pointed out the commander-in-chief. I have seen the noblest 
 figures of the war, but none can be compared to that of our old 
 captain. In every movement of his person, every tone of his 
 voice, every glance of his honest eye, was the perfect grace, the 
 sweet and yet stately courtesy of the old Virginia gentleman. 
 Health, happiness, and length of days to our old hero ! His glory 
 is beyond the reach of hostile hands; and to-day, ten thousand 
 and ten thousand, who would have died with him, take off their 
 hats and salute him as the flower of truth and honor I 
 
 * Hl» ■Word*. 
 11
 
 242 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 LXYIII. 
 
 PAST THE RAPIDAN. 
 
 Jackson's corps bad decided the fate of the day at Oold 
 Harbor, as his brigade had turned the tide at Manassas. "When 
 he arrived, A. P. Hill was retiring, torn and bleeding — Longstreet 
 unable to advance. The flank attack of the Valley-men decided 
 all. 
 
 These veteran troops were now to bear the brunt of battle 
 against a new adversary. 
 
 Leaving the hot woods of Charles City, they took up the line 
 of inarch toward the Rapidan ; and soon the long blue wave of 
 the Ridge gladdened their eyes. 
 
 Jackson advanced without pausing, and, on the 9th of August, 
 attacked and defeated General Pope at Cedar Mountain. 
 
 We had heard the most glowing accounts of this commander — 
 how he had arrived at his head-quarters in a special car, decked 
 out with flags and streamers — how he had penned an order, pro- 
 mising his army that he would never retreat, or seek that " rear " 
 where, he said, " lurked shame and disaster,' 1 * and how he had 
 declared that hitherto he had " seen only the backs of his ene- 
 mies." 
 
 In the midst of the wild plunder of the inhabitants which he 
 permitted, he suddenly met Jackson face to face, on the slopes 
 of Culpepper. 
 
 Cedar Mountain was a hard fight, and a vigorous charge drove 
 our left wing back in disorder. But Jackson placed himself at 
 the head of the men — a great shout, " Stonewall Jackson ! Stone- 
 wall Jackson!" rose — and the enemy were swept back. Then 
 Ewell closed in on the right ; the whole Southern line advanced 
 with cheers; and the forces of Pope gave way, and rapidly re- 
 treated, pursued by their adversaries. 
 
 The troops slept on ground in advance of the battle-field, 
 under the brilliant August moon. 
 
 •o l 
 
 * See General Pope's order on taking command.
 
 AN ADVENTURE OF STUART'S. 243 
 
 Jackson had fought at Cedar Run thirty-two thousand Federal 
 troops, with less than half that number. General Pope concen- 
 trated his whole army now in our immediate front, and Jackson 
 fell back. 
 
 He was met near Orange by the main body of the army under 
 General Lee. 
 
 "Forward!" was now the word; and all was soon ready for 
 a decisive trial of strength with General Pope. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE OF STUART'S. 
 
 If the reader will now lose sight of all these great events — the 
 mighty stepping-stones in the history of a nation — and consent 
 to fix his attention upon the personal movements of the humble 
 author of these memoirs, I will conduct him to a distance from 
 the embattled hosts fast gathering on the banks of the Rapidan, 
 and, descending that stream, penetrate with him the wooded 
 country which stretches around the little village of Verdiersville. 
 
 I was the bearer of a message from General Jackson to General 
 Stuart, then concentrating his cavalry on the right flank of the 
 army; and I expected to find the commander of the cavalry 
 somewhere in the vicinity of Verdiersviile. 
 
 Good fortune attended me. I had scarcely reached the point 
 where the Richmond or Antioch Church road debouches into the 
 main highway below Verdiersville, when I heard a voice in the 
 woods trolling lustily a camp-song, of which the jolly burden 
 was — 
 
 " If you want to have a good time, 
 Jine the cavalry ! 
 
 Bully boys, hey 1" 
 
 — and in a few moments Stuart appeared at the edge of the woods 
 with his staff, coming from the south. 
 
 I have outlined Colonel Jeb. Stuart, of the First Virginia
 
 2M SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Cavalry, with Ms blue blouse-coat of the U. S. Army, his Zouave 
 cap, and floating " havelock." Let me now give some idea of 
 Major-General Jeb. Stuart, commanding the cavalry of General 
 Lee's army. 
 
 Imagine a figure stouter and more athletic than before ; a face 
 fuller and ruddier, and decorated with a longer and heavier mus- 
 tache and beard ; an eye more laughing, and a voice even more 
 ringing and sonorous. This figure was clad in a gray " double- 
 breasted " jacket, worn open, with the edges folded back and 
 buttoned on each side — the sleeves heavily braided — and with a 
 buff collar ornamented with three stars encircled by a wreath. 
 A gray waistcoat reached to the throat ; top-boots with shining 
 brass spurs extended to the knees ; and over the high forehead, 
 with its clear blue eyes, drooped a brown felt hat, looped up 
 with a golden star, and decorated with a black feather. 
 
 At the side of this martial figure, which advanced with one 
 leg thrown carelessly over the pommel of the saddle, rattled a 
 light French sabre, balanced on the opposite side by a pistol in a 
 black holster ; and, as he came, the gay chevalier played negli- 
 gently with one of his long buckskin gauntlets, keeping time to 
 his song. 
 
 " If you want to have a good time 
 Jine the cavalry I" 
 
 rung out clear and joyous, echoing through the woods; and then 
 the quick glance of Stuart — he never forgot anybody — had 
 evidently recognized me. 
 
 " Hey !" was his laughing exclamation ; " here's our wandering 
 cavalier ! How are you, Surry, and how did you leave old Stone- 
 wall ?"* 
 
 " Perfectly well, General, and thirsting for the blood of 
 Pope." 
 
 The next moment I had exchanged a grasp of the hand with 
 the General, and my friends on the staff — only a portion of 
 whom were present. 
 
 " Who would have expected to find you at this out-of-the-way 
 place?" exclaimed the gay commander. "Some of these days 
 
 * Stuart's familiar name for Jackson.
 
 AN ADVENTURE OF STUART'S. 245 
 
 you'll be ambushed by the Yankee cavalry, and then good-by 
 to Surry!" 
 
 "I am not afraid. What news, General?" 
 
 " None — do you bring any ?" 
 
 "Only a message from General Jackson." And I delivered 
 it. 
 
 " All right," was Stuart's response. " I had thought of that, 
 and Fitz Lee is ordered to this point. I expect him to arrive to- 
 night. Is the army moving ?" 
 
 " It will advance to-morrow." 
 
 "Good! — the cavalry will be in place! And now come on, 
 and tell me all the news. You can't go back to-night. That 
 old house would be a good head-quarters," he added, pointing to 
 a deserted tenement at the mouth of the Antioch road, " but I 
 believe I will go on to Verdiersville. Come, Surry!" 
 
 And resuming his sonorous advice to " Jine the cavalry !" the 
 General rode on, with the staff and myself. 
 
 Passing the little skirt of pine-trees where, I remember, he 
 afterward had his quarters — al fresco and tentless, in the cold 
 December of 1863, and when General Lee, riding by, said, 
 "What a hardy soldier!" as he saw Stuart thus bivouacking 
 " under the canopy," in the chill nights — we pushed on, and 
 about nightfall reached the little village of Verdiersville. 
 
 "I am going to stop here," said Stuart, drawing rein before a 
 small deserted house, the first on the right as you enter the vil- 
 lage from the west. " I ought to hear from Fitz Lee very soon 
 now." 
 
 " This is the rendezvous ?" 
 
 " Yes, and in the morning I shall be in the saddle, ready 
 to advance — if the Yankees don't make a descent and capture us 
 to-night." 
 
 "Have they any force in this vicinity?" 
 
 " Two or three regiments. They are scouting along the 
 Rapidan at tins moment, and may take a fancy to prowl in this 
 direction." 
 
 " And you have no force near ?" 
 
 " None within ten miles."
 
 246 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "My dear General," I said, laughing, "don't you think there 
 is some danger that the Confederacy will be deprived of your 
 valuable services ?" 
 
 " "Well," was his laughing reply, "we can't guard against all 
 the chances of war." 
 
 "You ought at least to have a picket out." 
 
 " True, but I have only one or two couriers with me, and they 
 are as tired as I am." 
 
 " And you are going to sleep here, without even a vedette ?" 
 
 " I'll risk it." 
 
 And lightly throwing himself from his horse, the gay cavalier 
 led him into the small yard in front of the house, threw the 
 bridle over the palings, and, taking from his satchel some ham 
 and biscuits, invited me to sup with him. 
 
 The staff imitated him ; and when the meal was finished 
 Stuart rose. 
 
 " It is singular that I don't hear from Fitz Lee," he said, and, 
 turning to Major Fitzhugh of his staff, he added: 
 
 'Major, I wish you would take a courier, and ride back to 
 the mouth of the Richmond road, and look out for Fitz Lee. 
 Tell him to move on, and join me here without delay." 
 
 The Major promptly obeyed, and was soon out of sight, 
 followed by the courier. We were not to see him again for 
 many a long day. 
 
 " Come, Surry," Stuart then said, " let us get some sleep. I 
 have been riding all day." 
 
 And, spreading his riding cape upon the little porch in front 
 of the house, he almost instantly fell asleep. I wrapped myself 
 in my blanket, and lay down beside him. 
 
 At dawn, the sound of steps on the porch woke me, 
 and, rising, I saw the General walking bareheaded toward the 
 gate. 
 
 " Strange I don't hear from Fitz Lee !" he said. " "What can 
 be the matter?" 
 
 At that moment, the distant tramp of cavalry was heard, 
 approaching from the direction of the Richmond road. 
 
 "Ah! here he is at last!" exclaimed the General, as the
 
 AN ADVENTURE OF STUART'S. 247 
 
 head of the columu appeared through the pines beyond the 
 hill. 
 
 Then, as he turned, Stuart suddenly looked again in the direc- 
 tion of the column. It was impossible to make out the figures 
 clearly, but some instinct seemed to warn him that all was not 
 right. 
 
 " Captain," he said to an officer near, " ride down the road 
 and see what that column is." 
 
 The officer mounted, and spurred toward it. 
 
 " It must be Fitz!" muttered Stuart, " and yet"— 
 
 At that moment shots were heard in front. The officer who 
 had ridden in the direction of the approaching cavalry came back 
 at a gallop, pursued by a detachment in blue uniforms, firing at 
 him as he ran ; and the mystery was solved. 
 
 The column was not Confederate, but Federal cavalry; and 
 in an instant they were thundering forward, and had nearly 
 reached the house. 
 
 There was no time to parley or to hesitate. The pursuers came 
 on with loud shouts of "Halt! halt!" and in an instant were 
 opposite the house. 
 
 I got hastily into the saddle, and finding all egress barred by 
 way of the narrow gate, leaped the palings just as Stuart did 
 likewise. 
 
 He had not had time to get his hat or riding-cape. I am not sure 
 even that his horse was bridled, and believe that he rode only 
 with the halter. 
 
 At all events, his swift bay cleared the fence in gallant style ; 
 and, pursued by furious orders to halt, accompanied with a shower 
 of bullets, we crossed a field, and reached the cover of the 
 woods. 
 
 "Quick work!" exclaimed the General, his face fiery hot. 
 " Just look at the rascals !" 
 
 And, turning my head, I saw the Federal cavalry-men, who 
 had only pursued the General and his staff a short distance, 
 raising his riding-cape and hat upon the points of their sabres, 
 with shouts of laughter and triumph. 
 
 We afterward ascertained that Major Fitzhugh had gone as far
 
 248 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 as the deserted house I have mentioned, and, after waiting for 
 an hour or two for General Fitz Lee, had lain down on the 
 floor to take a short nap, leaving the courier posted at the mouth 
 of the road, to announce the General's arrival. Instead of 
 General Fitz Lee's column, it was that of a Federal colonel com- 
 manding a brigade. The courier was captured ; and when Major 
 Fitzhugh, hearing the tramp of horses near the house, rose to 
 go and meet General Fitz Lee, he saw some blue-coats leading 
 off his fine sorrel, which had been tied to a limb. Then they 
 rushed in, seized him, and, after a struggle, made him prisoner, 
 conducting him to the colonel. That officer acquired no infor- 
 mation from the Major's rough replies ; and, directing him to ride 
 at his side as guide, proceeded toward Verdiersville. 
 
 The reader knows what followed. Stuart and his staff retired 
 with more rapidity than ceremony ; and the Federal colonel said 
 to Major Fitzhugh : 
 
 " What party was that ?" 
 
 The Major saw that his general had escaped, and was laugh- 
 ing, overjoyed. He could not resist the temptation of making 
 his captor " feel bad." 
 
 "Did you ask what party that was which has just escaped, 
 Colonel ?" said the Major. 
 
 "I did, sir." 
 
 " Would you like to know very much ?" 
 
 "I would." 
 
 " Well, Colonel, that was General Stuart and his staff." 
 
 The words were like the explosion of a shell. 
 
 "Stuart! That was Stuart ? Here — a squadron! follow that 
 party, and kill or capture them. It is Stuart !" 
 
 The squadron rushed forward on the track of the fugitives, and 
 Stuart saw it coming. 
 
 "Pshaw f' he said coolly, "they won't come far. But let us 
 get out of their way, Major." 
 
 And we galloped on. A few shots came, and we were pur- 
 sued a short distance. Then, as Stuart predicted, they ceased 
 following us. The General turned his horse, and rode back 
 toward Verdiersville.
 
 THE PURSUIT. 24* 
 
 " They will be afraid of a trap, and leave the place at once," 
 he said. 
 
 The event showed the justice of this surmise. As we came in 
 sight of the small house from which we had retired so precipi- 
 tately, the Federal cavalry was seen rapidly moving in the direc- 
 tion of the Rapidan. 
 
 " They have got my hat and cape," growled Stuart ; " but I 
 hope to get even with them." 
 
 And we re-entered the village.* 
 
 LXX. 
 
 THE PURSUIT. 
 
 We had scarcely regained the house from which we had been 
 chased with so little ceremony, when a courier announced that 
 General Fitz Lee was approaching ; and very soon his column 
 appeared, the General riding in front. 
 
 " General Fitz," as his friends called him, was about twenty- 
 six, of low stature, and with a stout and vigorous person. His 
 faco was ruddy and laughing, his eye bright, penetrating, and 
 full of humor. A heavy brown mustache and beard half covered 
 the gay and insouciant countenance. He wore a brown felt hat, 
 looped up and decorated with a feather ; a gray dress coat, and 
 elegant cavalry boots, against which rattled his long sabre. 
 " General Fitz " seemed to enjoy the profession of arms — to like 
 movement, fun, and adventure — and was evidently a great favor- 
 ite with Stuart, who was soon laughing gayly at his late esca- 
 pade. 
 
 Not a moment, however, was lost in following the Federal 
 column. Stuart, who had borrowed a hat from one of his men, 
 took command in person, and pushed after them in the direction 
 of Locust Grove. 
 
 " Gome, Surry," he said, " you ought to be present when I have 
 my revenge." 
 
 * A real incident. 
 11*
 
 250 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "But what will General Jackson say, if I go scouting with the 
 cavalry ? He will think that your adventurous life has demoral- 
 ized me." 
 
 "Not a bit. Come! the army is moving, and we will join it 
 sooner "by crossing the Rapidan below." 
 
 I only wanted an excuse to yield. The cavalry had " demor- 
 alized " me. After their gay life, so full of romantic scenes and 
 incidents, the infantry seemed tame. 
 
 I followed the General, and very soon we came upon the track 
 of the retreating brigade. Stuart now pushed on rapidly, and an 
 exciting chase commenced. Straight down the old turnpike 
 toward Chancellorsville swept the column, following the fresh 
 footprints of the enemy's horsemen; and soon I found myself 
 once more in that strange country of the "Wilderness, where was 
 situated the house at which I had spent the night on my journey 
 from Richmond to report to Jackson, in April, 1861. 
 
 All at once, not far beyond Locust Grove, rapid shots were 
 heard from the advance-guard, which had pushed some distance 
 ahead, and Stuart went at a swift gallop to the front. s 
 
 "Here they are!" he shouted, and, rising in the stirrups, he 
 cried, in his sonorous voice, as clear and ringing as a clarion : 
 
 "Form fours! — draw sabre! — charge!" 
 
 A yell rose from his column at the words ; and on they came, 
 the sabres glittering in the brilliant sunshine. 
 
 Then followed, my dear reader, that brief but animated 
 spectacle, called a cavalry fight. Only the enemy did not make 
 a good, obstinate stand ; they seemed to aim only at getting 
 off. 
 
 Bang! slash! — bang! bang! bang! And we were among 
 them, cutting right and left. 
 
 They did not stand long. In five minutes they were running, 
 followed at full speed by the yelling Southerners. 
 
 The chase continued as far as the river; and the Federal 
 cavalry-men scrambled down the steep hill toward the ford. 
 
 Stuart was about to follow, when a long dark line appear- 
 ed on the high ground beyond ; a piece of artillery " counter- 
 marched " at a gallop ; and then a puff of white smoke was
 
 THE PURSUIT. 251 
 
 seen, followed by the shriek of a shell, which fell in the very 
 centre of the pursuing column. Another came, then another ; 
 and, under cover of their artillery, the Federal cavalry crossed 
 the river. 
 
 Stuart ordered a halt, and, drawing up his column behind a 
 hill, rode forward to reconnoitre. The Federal force on the 
 opposite bank was ascertained to amount to at least a division 
 of cavalry ; and finding that an assault was impracticable with 
 the small force which he then had, Stuart at once dispatched 
 orders to his main body, which had not come up, to move on 
 rapidly and join him. 
 
 " When they arrive," said the General, " I will show you, 
 Surry, what my men can do in the way of charging across a 
 river in the face of sharpshooters and artillery. I don't intend 
 to let those fellows stop me. ' Do or die ' is my motto." 
 
 And the General threw himself at full length under a tree, 
 with no trace of ill-humor at his morning's adventure. From 
 the bright surface of his splendid nature the breath of anger 
 quickly passed. 
 
 The long chase and the time lost at the river had consumed 
 the day, and the sun now began to decline. Stuart had given 
 up all idea of attacking until the next morning ; and, seeing that 
 we were to be detained in our present quarters all night, my 
 thoughts persistently reverted to the fact that I was but a few 
 miles distant from that mysterious mansion in connection with 
 which I had so many curious recollections. 
 
 Were you ever haunted by one possessing thought, reader — so 
 that no effort could banish it? In vain did I endeavor to fix my 
 mind upon the events of the day — the chances of the coming 
 campaign — the probable result of the fight on the morrow. 
 Still came back to my mind the obscure mansion where I had 
 met with such strange adventures. Who lived there now? Not 
 Violet Grafton, nor the poor White Lady, who was sleeping 
 under the turf of Manassas. She would never await the coming 
 of her " darling " any more, as on that night of my arrival. 
 And the queenly girl who had loved and cherished her so tender- 
 ly was out of the clutches of Fenwick and the harridan,
 
 252 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 evidently his accomplice — beyond their reach, amid friends who 
 would watch over her. 
 
 But was the house in the "Wilderness then deserted ? Had the 
 human owls and night-hawks left the obscure nest and flown to 
 some other region? "Where was Fenwick, the secret foe, spy, 
 plotter, and villain generally ? "Would a visit to that house and 
 a conversation with its possible inmates furnish any clue to his 
 whereabouts ? 
 
 These thoughts incessantly recurred to my mind, and at last 
 the temptation to go and satisfy myself by a personal " recon- 
 noissance " became irresistible. I determined to take advantage 
 of the opportunity thus thrown in my way to revisit the place ; 
 and availing myself of a moment when General Stuart's atten- 
 tion was engaged — for I wished to avoid explanations — I mount- 
 ed my horse, and quietly took a road which I was tolerably sure 
 led in the direction of the mansion. 
 
 I soon found myself lost in the dense and lugubrious thicket, 
 but from time to time noticed some traces of my former route 
 — then I came to the road which I had followed in April, 
 1861. 
 
 The way was now plain. The house I knew was not a mile 
 distant, and I pushed on over the winding road, between the 
 impenetrable walls of thicket, vocal now, as before, with the 
 melancholy cries of the whippoorwill. Ere long I saw the 
 opening which I had expected ; and, as the last rays of the sun 
 disappeared, and darkness slowly descended, came in sight of 
 the obscure mansion on the pine-encircled knoll. 
 
 This time I tied my horse to the thicket near the brushwood 
 fence, and ascended the hill on foot, making no sound as I did 
 so.
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WILDERNESS. 253 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WILDERNESS, AND ITS OCCUPANTS. 
 
 The place seemed entirely deserted, and had about it an inex- 
 pressible air of desolation. The gloomy-looking mansion posi- 
 tively oppressed my spirits as I drew near, and — alone thus 
 in the mysterious depths of this melancholy Wilderness — I look- 
 ed around suspiciously, tried the lock of my pistol, and pre- 
 pared to defend myself against any foe who appeared. 
 
 Why is it that some houses, and even regions of country, thus 
 affect us? There are mansions which seem to smile and wel- 
 come us — where sunshine reigns, and all is bright and joyous. 
 Others appear to frown and receive yon with averted glances — 
 to bring up thoughts of dark and mysterious tragedies — of blood 
 and murder. " Some hideous crime must have been committed 
 here!" you murmur, as you look upon the sullen walls; you 
 feel that God has cursed the roof-tree, and set his seal upon the 
 place. So with certain regions : they scowl at you, and op- 
 press the heart — and such was this melancholy Wilderness, in 
 which was lost, like a leaf, this gloomy and apparently deserted 
 house. 
 
 All at once, however, as I approached, I saw a light glimmer 
 through the closed shutters, and stopped. Something told me 
 that the place was no longer occupied by hospitable women, but 
 by enemies, whom it was necessary to approach with caution. 
 
 I carefully secured my sabre in my left hand, so that the wea- 
 pon could not clatter against the ground, and, silently approach- 
 ing the house, looked through a chink in the closed shutter, into 
 the apartment from which proceeded the light. 
 
 Here is what I beheld in the apartment — the same in which I 
 had held my interview with Miss Grafton and the White 
 Lady: 
 
 Seated at the table, half turned from me, was the woman 
 Parkins, in conversation with no less a personage than Fenwick. 
 I saw before me the same grim face and lowering brow. She
 
 254 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 was unchanged. The eyes, cold, wary, and forbiddiog, were 
 intently fixed upon her companion. 
 
 From the woman, my glance passed to Fenwick. He was the 
 same lithe, muscular, and vigorous figure as before ; and his 
 countenance, in which the dark eyes scowled disagreeably, wore 
 the same sneering expression. The man looked as treacherous 
 as a serpent ; and the keen flash of the eye showed that he was 
 as dangerous. 
 
 He had evidently been drinking. On the table, between the 
 worthies, was a black bottle, and Fenwick held in his hand a 
 half-emptied tumbler of spirit. I saw from the slight color in 
 his sallow cheeks that he had reached that point where men, 
 under the influence of drink, grow voluble, boastful, and defiant 
 — prone to rude jest, and to indiscreet talking. 
 
 Something told me that the hand of Providence had directed 
 my steps to this obscure den ; and, gluing my eyes to the 
 aperture in the shutter, I preserved perfect silence, and disposed 
 myself to listen. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 ARCADES AMBO. 
 
 Fenwick seemed to be, as I have said, in that condition which 
 induces men to talk of every thing or nothing. There was a 
 defiant abandon in his manner which I had never seen before. 
 
 "Come, my dear Madam Parkins," he said, with a harsh and 
 discordant laugh, as he pushed the bottle toward the woman, 
 " you don't drink, my dear. Fill, fill ! Let me see your coun- 
 tenance expand under the mollifying effects of this devil's 
 elixir! It will much improve your appearance!" 
 
 The woman seemed to take no umbrage at this unceremonious 
 address. She coolly grasped the bottle, poured out some of the 
 spirit, and raised it to her lips. 
 
 But I observed that she did not drink. Then I caught a quick
 
 ARCADES AMBO. 255 
 
 glance of her eye, toward her companion. She was watching 
 him. 
 
 ""We are a jolly pair!" he exclaimed, emptying his glass and 
 leaning back in his seat; "we resemble lovers— eh, my dear 
 creature ? "We are here all alone and tete a tete, with no one to 
 disturb us. "We are revelling in the uninterrupted interchange 
 of fond affection, and we never grow weary of each other's 
 society." 
 
 Nothing more sneering and disdainful than the air of the 
 speaker, at that moment, can be imagined. 
 
 " Come, let us find some method of passing the evening agree- 
 ably, my angel," continued Fenwick. "Tell me a little love 
 romance, my dear creature, or sing me a song!" 
 
 "Don't you think," said the woman, in her harsh and forbid- 
 ding voice, "that you had better get away from here?" 
 
 " And pray why, madam?" 
 
 " The rebels are not far off. You heard the guns this eve- 
 ning." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! — and so you think, my dear, that Fenwick, the 
 Yankee spy, blockade-runner, and secret agent, had better get 
 off, eh?" 
 
 " Yes," was the cool reply, " they say that Colonel Mordaunt 
 is coming here ; and if he finds you " — 
 
 "Curse him!" suddenly exclaimed Fenwick ; "do you think I 
 fear him ? "Woe to him, if we meet again !" 
 
 The woman's face was distorted by a quick sneer, which in- 
 stantly disappeared, but not without attracting the attention of 
 her companion. 
 
 " Aha!" he growled, "you are laughing at me, are you? You 
 are thinking of that scene in the Stone House at Manas- 
 sas, when I did not stay to fight two well-armed men, Mor- 
 daunt and that cursed friend of his, Surry ! But I know what 
 I am about, madam. Do you think I am going to meet your 
 Colonel Mordaunt in open fight, instead of taking him una- 
 wares ?" 
 
 "You met him once at Bickinond." 
 
 A. bitter scowl came to Fenwick's face.
 
 256 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I did," was his reply, " but under a compulsion which I need 
 not explain, my dear madam." 
 
 The woman nodded, as if the subject did not interest her, and 
 Fenwick again had recourse to the bottle. I saw his cheeks 
 grow ruddier, and his eyes sparkle. Soon his tongue was loos- 
 ened. 
 
 " I will not tell you about my little arrangement for the benefit 
 of our dear friend Mordaunt," he said, with his sardonic laugh; 
 " but, by way of passing the evening agreeably, I ought to let 
 you know why I don't like that gentleman." 
 
 "I know something, but not all ; tell me the story," said the 
 woman, who still watched her companion, and evidently lost 
 not a single word. 
 
 "You really wish to hear all about that little affair, my 
 dear?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Fenwick hesitated, and looked with a quick flash of the eye at 
 his companion. It was the last struggle between his cunning 
 and desire to talk. 
 
 "After all, why shouldn't I tell you, most amiable Parkins?" 
 he said, with a leer; "my life is a pretty little romance, which 
 will amuse us this dull evening. But are you sure no one besides 
 can hear us?" 
 
 "There is not another soul within five miles of this place!" 
 
 "Are you certain?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Nevertheless, my dear, suppose I make entirely sure ?" 
 
 And rising, Fenwick walked, with a perfectly steady step, to 
 the door, from which he passed to the front door of the house, 
 which he threw open. 
 
 I shrank down in the shadow of the porch, within five feet of 
 him. The darkness concealed me — the door closed — and, hear- 
 ing the sound of his feet in the apartment again, I returned tc 
 my place at the shutter. 
 
 Fenwick had resumed his former seat, and prepared himself 
 for his narrative by swallowing another glass of brandy.
 
 AECADES AMBO. 257 
 
 " You really think it will interest you to know why I don't 
 like the excellent Colonel Mordaunt?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, I should like to know." 
 
 " It will involve a long explanation, my dear one, but there 
 should be perfect confidence between us. Must I begin at the 
 beginning, like a romance ?" 
 
 The woman nodded, and looked at her companion with the 
 same furtive glance. 
 
 Fenwick did not observe it. 
 
 "Now for the little romance 1" he said. 
 
 " I am listening," said the woman. 
 
 Her companion leaned back and said : 
 
 " Well, my dearly-beloved elderly Parkins, once upon a time 
 there were two young men about twenty years of age, whose 
 names, respectively, were Fenwick and Mordaunt. They lived 
 in Fairfax County, in the State of Virginia, and were a perfect 
 instance of Damon and Pythias. They could not hunt without 
 each other, ride without each other, or pass a day out of each 
 other's society. This heavenly state of things might, no doubt, 
 have lasted, had not a woman appeared on the scene — one of 
 that angelic sex to which you, my charming one, belong." 
 
 The woman remained silent and impassive. 
 
 " Well, this pretty devil, who was to rend asunder the touch- 
 ing bonds of friendship between Damon Mordaunt and Pythias 
 Fenwick, was a young lady named Carleton — Frances Carleton. 
 You have never heard of her?" 
 
 "Yes, go on." 
 
 " With delight, my elderly one. Well, Miss Carleton was the 
 daughter of an English gentleman, who had come, with his wife, 
 daughter, and only sister, to America, a few months before. The 
 sister married Mr. Grafton, a clergyman, of Maryland; the 
 brother, Miss Frances's father, settled, with his wife and daughter, 
 in Fairfax County, renting a small estate near Manassas, upon 
 which stood the picturesque Stone House, in which we recently 
 had our pleasing little adventure. 
 
 "Here Messrs. Fenwick and Mordaunt first knew Frances 
 Carleton. She was a pleasing young female, with light auburn
 
 258 SURRY OF EAQ-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 hair falling in ringlets around her face, and 'as pure as an 
 angel,' everybody was fond of saying. So Fenwick and Mor- 
 daunt immediately fell in love with her, and from that moment 
 grew as cold as ice toward each other. I believe there was 
 some sickly attempt on Mordaunt's part to continue on friendly 
 relations with his old companion, but that gentleman treated his 
 proposition with deserved contempt ; and soon events took place 
 which made them open foes. Mordaunt — curse him! — was the 
 handsomer of the two, and possessed a large estate. To make a 
 long story short, he paid his addresses to Miss Oarleton, and 
 married her!" 
 
 Fenwick grew livid as he uttered these words, and paused. 
 
 "That made me his life-long foe !" he added, at length, with 
 bitterness ; " that is to say, it made my young friend, Mr. Fen- 
 wick ! He had heard preachers prate about brotherly love, but 
 never pretended to love the rival who carried off the woman he 
 had been crazily in love with. From that moment he began to 
 hate Mordaunt bitterly, and swore in his inmost soul that he 
 would take vengeance on him. It was not a common, vulgar 
 revenge he aimed at, a duel or affray, ending in mere blows and 
 blood. No ! such a thing seemed silly and childish. What Fen- 
 wick wanted, my dear madam, was not so much to shed his 
 enemy's heart's blood, as to make his existence one long groan of 
 misery. You, no doubt, feel shocked at this, madam, as you are a 
 woman, but that is the way men hate when they hate in earnest." 
 
 " I can understand it." 
 
 " Very well — all the better. It will save me from repeating 
 over and over that the amiable Fenwick had a hatred for the 
 respectable Mordaunt so bitter that it stopped at nothing in the 
 way of its gratification. To reach his aim, Fenwick was obliged 
 to have recourse to what is called treachery by fools, but strategy 
 by military men. He did not quarrel with his beloved friend 
 Mordaunt — the coldness between them completely passed away — 
 and very soon young Mr. Fenwick was a regular visitor at the 
 Stone House, where Mordaunt lived with his bride. He had be- 
 come the ' friend of the family,' you see, madam, and Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt had unbounded confidence in him.
 
 AROADES AMBO. 259 
 
 " For a long time no opportunity of avenging the affront put 
 on him presented itself to Mr. Fenwick. Mordauntand his wife 
 were completely happy — and the idea of sowing suspicion or 
 producing any misunderstanding between them was simply ab- 
 surd. They ' lived in a dream of felicity,' as says the poet, my 
 dear madam ; and Mr. Fenwick was compelled to put off his 
 little plan for the benefit of his dear friend Mordaunt. 
 
 " Events, however, very soon occurred which seemed to favor 
 his scheme. Mr. and Mrs. Oarleton both died, within a few days 
 of each other, and Mordaunt and his wife were left alone together 
 in the Stone House. The only other inmate of the establishment 
 was a most charming, respectable, and excellent person, of the 
 euphonious name of Parkins, who filled the position of house- 
 keeper. Have you ever heard of that lovely creature, madam?" 
 asked Fenwick, with a guttural laugh ; " she was the paragon of 
 her sex." 
 
 " Go on," was the response of the woman, who was evidently 
 watching Fenwick closely, and waiting for him to come to some- 
 thing which had excited her curiosity. 
 
 " The respectable Parkins," continued Fenwick, leaning upon 
 the table, and looking at his companion with a leer of affected 
 admiration, " was in every way calculated to prove an ornament 
 to her sex, and had only a single failing. Which of us is with- 
 out his peculiar weakness ? That of the Avorthy Parkins was a 
 love of money, and, not to weary you, my dear madam, with a 
 prosy explanation — Fenwick bought her. He gently insinuated 
 into her not unwilling hand a bank note of the denomination of 
 one thousand dollars, with the promise of more, and lo ! the 
 virtuous Parkins was at his orders." 
 
 " Go on," was the woman's sole reply. 
 
 " With pleasure. Well, with the housekeeper thus bought, 
 one great step was taken toward a little plan Mr. Fenwick had 
 on foot. It had suddenly flashed upon him one day, when he 
 visited the Stone House soon after Mr. Carleton's death, and he 
 heard Mordaunt inform his wife that he would be compelled to 
 go to England to attend to very important claims left by the 
 young lady's father. A charming scene followed — tears, fond
 
 260 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 words, remonstrances, embraces, kisses ! Curse him !" exclaimed 
 Fen wick, " I could have killed him where he stood !" 
 
 " Why didn't you?" asked the woman coolly. 
 
 " For this good reason — that I had a better plan in view. 
 Listen now, and you shall hear how skilfully the youthful Fen- 
 wick set about his little arrangements." 
 
 The speaker touched his empty glass to his lips, as if from 
 habit, looked with a sneer at the woman, and resumed his 
 monologue. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 MORDAUNT'S SECRET. 
 
 " Mordatjnt set out for London. He expected, he said, to be 
 absent for about two months — then he would return, never more 
 to leave ' what was dearer to him than all the world, his home.' 
 Pathetic, you see ! I witnessed the parting — they were locked 
 for about ten minutes in each other's arms — and then the young 
 lady sank into a chair, sobbing and crying as if her heart would 
 break. At that moment, with her auburn ringlets around her 
 face, she looked 'like an angel.' Fenwick, you see, my dear 
 madam, was the devil lurking near. 
 
 " He continued to visit the house, as a friend, during Mor- 
 daunt's absence ; and the smiles of the young lady nearly turned 
 him from his purpose. But those smiles became brighter and 
 brighter as the days rolled by. One day she would be heard 
 murmuring, 'It is only three weeks now!' Then, 'To-morrow 
 it is only eleven days!' She was counting the time, you see, 
 before her husband would return — and Mr. Fenwick grew crazy 
 with rage at the thought. Pie would lie awake all night, and toss 
 and rave at the pictures which his imagination drew of their 
 meeting — their kisses, embraces, fond words. And all this might 
 have been Ins ! This was to continue before his eyes — all this 
 happiness of his rival — when Ac was writhing in agony? He 
 swore in his heart that he would have his vengeance— and he 
 kept his oath!"
 
 MORDAUNT'S SECRET. 261 
 
 A gloomy shadow seemed to cross the speaker's face — his eyes 
 flashed. 
 
 "Well, madam," he continued, "the plan of Fenwick involved 
 what is popularly known as forgery. He gave his instructions 
 to the excellent Parkins, and then proceeded to carry out his 
 design. One day, Mrs. Mordaunt received a letter from her hus- 
 band — hand-writing, post-mark, date, every thing complete — 
 announcing that he would be in New York on a certain day; 
 and requesting, for reasons which he would subsequently explain, 
 that she would meet him tbere. His friend Mr. Fenwick would, 
 no doubt, take pleasure in escorting her, if asked to do so. In- 
 deed — added the writer — he had written to Mr. Fenwick, by the 
 same mail, requesting that he would accompany her to New 
 York, and see to her safety. 
 
 " She came with this letter in her hand, and, before she spoke, 
 Fenwick announced the receipt of a letter, requesting his escort 
 for madam. That would have removed all suspicion — but she 
 had none. Her face glowed — she trembled from head to foot 
 with joy and excitement, and was ready, on the next morning, to 
 commence the journey. Leaving the worthy madam Parkins to 
 keep house in her absence, she set out in her carriage with Mr. 
 Fenwick, who kindly consented to drive the small vehicle him- 
 self." 
 
 The speaker paused and gulped down a mouthful of the raw 
 spirit. It seemed only to make him gloomier and more mo- 
 rose. 
 
 " They had a pleasant journey across the Potomac into Mary- 
 land," he continued, and stopped one evening at a house where 
 Mr. Fenwick had friends, or, rather, a friend. It was in a remote 
 locality between wooded hills, and well suited to the design he 
 had in view. This was to confine Mrs. Mordaunt, under the old 
 hag — your respectable aunt, madam — until Mordaunt committed 
 suicide, or died of misery ; then to release her. Toward the 
 young lady, Fenwick had no ill-feeling — he almost pitied her, 
 and I swear to you he treated her with the deepest respect. It 
 was her misfortune, not her fault, that she was entangled in this 
 network of vengeance!"
 
 262 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 He stopped — something like a human expression touched upon 
 the sneering mask : then it fled away. 
 
 "Two days after her arrival," he said, relapsing into his cyni- 
 cal coldness, " she gave birth to a son." 
 
 " Ah ! and did the child live ?" 
 
 " It died on the same evening." 
 
 The woman leaned back in her seat, with a look of unmis- 
 takable disappointment. 
 
 "Go on," she said. 
 
 " Then you are interested in my pleasing little romance," said 
 Fen wick. " Charming — is it not, my dear madam ? But I don't 
 think I have entirely explained the plan of my dear friend Fen- 
 wick. He was not a blood-thirsty monster, only a man who had 
 sworn vengeance against an adversary. He had none to satisfy 
 against the wife. It was Mordaunt whom he hated — and that 
 note of the value of one thousand dollars, with the promise of 
 more, had been presented, as a small testimony of regard, to the 
 beautiful Parkins, in order to induce her to poison Mordaunt's 
 mind upon his return. The little scheme was all arranged. 
 When he appeared, the skilful Parkins was to rush forward, hair 
 dishevelled, accents heart-broken, and convey the intelligence 
 that Mrs. Mordaunt had deserted her husband's roof, in company 
 with her old lover, Fenwick. It is true that the most devilish 
 ingenuity was necessary to render this credible to Mordaunt — 
 but there was the fact of madam's absence, and Fenwick's also. 
 That gentleman had sold his landed estate — put the gold in his 
 pocket — and disappeared, along with madam. 
 
 " You see how every thing tended to deceive Mordaunt; but, 
 in addition to this, some letters were handed to him. One was 
 from his wife — I wrote it — announcing that she was about to 
 leave him forever, in company with the only person she had ever 
 really loved. The other was from me — I mean from Fenwick, 
 madam — and it contained only these words: 'You were my 
 successful rival. What are you now?' When those letters were 
 given to Mordaunt, he no longer doubted. In one day, they said, 
 he became ten years older. Then he commenced the hunt after 
 the triumphant Fenwick ; but that gentleman managed to l»ave
 
 MORD AUNT'S SECRET. 263 
 
 his name inserted in a list of passengers sailing for Europe, and 
 saw that Mordaunt received the paper. That took him out of 
 the country — and he did not return for more than fifteen years. 
 
 "Thus you will perceive, my dear madam," continued the 
 speaker coolly, " that Mr. Eenwick may be said to have at last 
 secured a very pretty little vengeance. His rival was broken- 
 hearted and in exile — his hate, and it was intense, was for the 
 moment glutted. But, you will ask, what became of Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt? My dear madam, did you ever hear of that scourge 
 called puerperal fever ? The young lady was attacked by this 
 malady upon the birth of her child, and lost her reason. I was 
 sorry," muttered Fenwick. " I swear to you I was sorry, and 
 all was done that could be done. She was sent to a public asy- 
 lum under her maiden name, and there she remained, uncured, 
 until her cousin, Miss Grafton, now an orphan, discovered her. 
 
 "My story's growing rather prosy — eh! my dear madam?" 
 continued Fenwick. " Well, it is nearly done. There was a 
 curious end to all these adventures. Miss Grafton was the exact 
 image of her cousin, Frances Oarleton, when she was a young 
 lady — fair complexion, golden ringlets, blue eyes, and all. So 
 what must that admirer of the ladies, Mr. Fenwick, do, but fall 
 in love with her ? He met her one day at the asylum — and often 
 thereafter. He formed the design of marrying her. But she was 
 incessantly engaged in her duties as assistant at a school — her 
 father, the clergyman, having followed his wife to the grave, 
 leaving the daughter nothing. Then one day, Fenwick said, ' I 
 will give your poor cousin a quiet home, if you will come and 
 take care of her, Miss Grafton;' and lo ! with the sweet Parkins 
 for companion, the two ladies came to reside in the lively man- 
 sion we now occupy." 
 
 The woman nodded ; and her companion coolly went on : 
 
 "The plans of Fenwick had thus apparently been crowned 
 with success. His hatred was gratified ; his rival miserable and 
 in exile ; the young lady whom he loved as the living image of 
 Frances Oarleton, the light of his youth, was under his roof. 
 But when was virtue really rewarded ? The insane lady never 
 even seemed aware of her benefactor's existence ; Miss Grafton
 
 264: SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 had evidently taken up a positive dislike to liim ; and presto ! 
 who should reappear upon the scene hut Mordaunt, strong, 
 dangerous, and thirsting for the amiable Fenwick's blood! 
 
 " That gentleman put himself to no trouble to meet Mr. Mor- 
 daunt, having other affairs to attend to ; but fate brought them 
 together at Richmond, in April last year, and they fought, Mr. 
 Fenwick receiving a bullet in his breast, which he purposes some 
 day to return with interest to its owner. Soon afterward, in 
 July of the same year, the rivals met again at the Stone House, 
 near Manassas, when Mr. Fenwick was engaged in the pious 
 task of burying the insane lady, in the spot where she had been 
 so happy. This was in accordance, as you know, my dear 
 madam, with her own request : we took the body there, and, 
 when retiring from the grave, Mr. Fenwick was again assailed by 
 his adversary. And for what ? Had he made the poor lady lose 
 her mind? Not at all. It was the fever. Had he produced her 
 death ? No, she was treated with all kindness, for Mr. Fenwick 
 really pitied her, and religiously obeyed her last request. 
 
 " Thus you see, my dear madam, Mr. Fenwick was an ill- 
 treated personage. Everybody tries to cut his throat, and Miss 
 Grafton, on your late excursion to Alexandria to attend to some 
 of your affairs there, leaves you on the road, doesn't wait to say 
 good-by, and takes refuge with entire strangers, instead of 
 returning, as she should have done, to this hospitable roof. 
 When Mr. Fenwick puts himself to the trouble of discovering 
 her retreat, and presents himself before her, she draws herself 
 up with the air of a queen, declares that she never wishes to 
 return to this lively abode in the Wilderness, and plainly inti- 
 mates to him that his visits are disagreeable, his addresses hate- 
 ful. Yes, hateful /" added Fenwick gloomily. " You were right 
 in what you said to me one day — she cannot bear me. And I — 
 I would cut off my right hand to win this girl!" 
 
 For a moment there was silence. Then Fenwick broke into 
 a harsh laugh. 
 
 " Well, that's the little romance I promised you, respected 
 Madam Parkins!" he said. "Now, do you like it? Is it gay, 
 cheerful, lively ; the sort of thing that makes an evening pass
 
 MORDAUNT'S SECRET. 265 
 
 delightfully, and puts one to bed in a mood that brings on pleas- 
 ant dreams? The recollection of these little occurrences is the 
 chief happiness of my existence. You see, I am landless nowi 
 and though I manage to scrape together a very respectable in- 
 come, and have many powerful friends — although they never 
 acknowledge my acquintance in public — I cannot be said to have 
 many sources of happiness except this. It is enough. The 
 thought of Mordaunt wretched and broken-hearted suffices me ; 
 and if my little affair with that gentleman has amused my 
 dearest Parkins, I am more than happy!" 
 
 With these ironical words Fenwick rose and yawned. 
 
 "I am tired with my long ride," he added, "and shall now, 
 madam, bid you, most respectfully, good-night. I must cross 
 the river before daylight at the old place, and be with my friend 
 General Pope by sunrise, if possible. I have intelligence he will 
 be glad to get." 
 
 " From Richmond ?" 
 
 "Yes, we have many more friends, you know, down there, than 
 people think ; and even among the employes of the War De- 
 partment — but I am blabbing secrets. Where are my arms, 
 most excellent Mrs. Parkins?" 
 
 "On the mantel-piece." 
 
 "I will take them to my room with me, for fear of accidents." 
 
 And he made a step toward the mantel-piece. 
 
 Before he reached it I had burst open the door with one blow 
 of my heel, and was standing in the apartment, with a cocked 
 pistol pointed at his heart. 
 
 "You are my prisoner!" I said. "Move a step, and you are 
 dead." 
 
 12
 
 266 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 THE SNAKE SCOTCHED. 
 
 Fenwiok recoiled, and made a step to seize his pistol, which 
 was lying in its holster on the mantel-piece. I raised my wea- 
 pon, directed it at his head, and said to him : 
 
 " I give you my word of honor, sir, that if you move another 
 foot, I will hlow your brains out." 
 
 He became livid, and uttered the hoarse growl of a tiger at 
 bay. 
 
 " "Who are yon ?" he cried, with a flash of fury in his blood- 
 shot eyes. 
 
 " You know me perfectly well, as you have already met me. 
 I see you remember." 
 
 "Your purpose?" 
 
 "To arrest you." 
 
 " And by what authority — yes, sir ! by what authority is this 
 intrusion on my premises — this threat with a loaded pistol!" 
 
 " By my own. I require no authority to arrest a spy and an 
 infamous wretch. I know you thoroughly. Resist in the 
 slightest degree, and, by heavens ! I will lay you dead on that 
 floor!" 
 
 Anger faded from the eyes — cunning and treachery took its 
 place. 
 
 " I am at a loss to imagine the meaning of this scene, sir," he 
 said, with affected coolness ; "you say that you intend to arrest 
 me : where and before whom am I to be carried ?" 
 
 " Come with me, and you will see." 
 
 " How am I to go at this hour of the night ? In the morning, 
 if you insist, sir." 
 
 "No — we are going to take a little ride to-night. You will 
 accompany me instantly — if you have no horse, you will walk." 
 
 He must have seen that no wheedling would avail him. 
 
 "I have a horse," he said hoarsely. "I will go and saddle 
 him."
 
 THE SNAKE SCOTCHED. 267 
 
 l 'I will accompany you." 
 
 " Even if I give you my parole, sir, not to attempt to escape !" 
 
 " Even if you give me a hundred paroles." 
 
 At this last insult his face grew livid. 
 
 "Major Surry, you shall answer for this!" 
 
 " Ah ! you know me, I see." 
 
 "I do — you shall know me, too !" 
 
 And, grinding his teeth audibly, he left the room. I followed 
 to a small stable behind the house, where a horse stood, and saw 
 him saddled. 
 
 "Mount!" I said, "and ride before me down that path." 
 
 He obeyed, and we had soon reached the spot where my horse 
 was tied. The woman Parkins had not uttered a single word, 
 nor did she now appear at the door. 
 
 I directed Fenwick to ride on my left, and I never removed 
 my eyes from him. AVith such a man, no precautions were too 
 great. 
 
 " Really, sir," he said, as we rode on, "this is a most remark- 
 able proceeding. I am at a loss to understand what brought 
 you into this out-of-the-way place, or induced you to take up the 
 most unfounded supposition that I am a spy." 
 
 " I will, ere long, enlighten you." 
 
 " Where are you conducting me?" 
 
 " You will soon discover." 
 
 " I protest again, sir, against your most unauthorized " — 
 
 " You will please spare your remarks — I am tired of the sound 
 of your voice. I have heard nothing else for the last hour." 
 
 By the light of the moon, which had just risen, I saw him 
 turn livid ; and from that moment he said no more. 
 
 More than once his quick glance was directed toward me, as 
 though to discover if there were any hope of escape. But a 
 pistol barrel shone in the moonlight — he uttered a sort of growl, 
 and rode on in silence. 
 
 Soon the cavalry camp came in sight. I rode to General 
 Stuart's head-quarters, and found him just about to stretch hnn< 
 self upon his red blanket. 
 
 "Who is that?" he said.
 
 268 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I dismounted and approached, in company with Fenwick. 
 
 " Here is a prisoner, General." 
 
 "Ah. Where did you take him?" 
 
 " I will tell you." 
 
 And, leading the General aside, I told him enough to convince 
 him of Fenwick's dangerous character. The revelation which I 
 had heard of Mordaunt's private history was, of course, not al- 
 luded to. 
 
 "If Mordaunt says he's a spy," said the General, "the thing 
 is settled. There is no better or more reliable officer in my 
 command. Can you bring any specific charge against this 
 man?" 
 
 " Only this — that I heard him, with his own lips, declare that 
 he was going to set out at daylight for General Pope's head- 
 quarters, with important intelligence from Richmond." 
 
 " That's more than enough. I will embody your statement in 
 a communication to the War Department, and send him to Rich- 
 mond in the morning, under guard." 
 
 We returned to the spot where Fenwick was standing. 
 
 "Well, General," he said, with an admirable affectation of 
 candor, " I hope you will not authorize this most singular pro- 
 ceeding." 
 
 He had addressed himself to the wrong person. Stuart had 
 no patience whatever with people in citizen's dress suspected of 
 disloyalty. 
 
 " I am tired," was his brief reply. 
 
 " But, General, I have been arrested in my house, without 
 ft-arning, and " — 
 
 "I am sleepy," said Stuart, in tones still briefer. 
 
 " I protest. General, with all my power, against" — 
 
 "Take this man away, and put him under guard," said the 
 General. " Give the sentinel instructions to fire upon him, if he 
 makes the least movement to escape." 
 
 And Stuart yawned, and stretched himself upon his couch. 
 
 Baffled, and overcome with rage, Fenwick turned away, and 
 was conducted to a fire, where he was placed under guard. 
 
 "Keep special watch over this prisoner," I said to the guard,
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK. 269 
 
 " he is dangerous, and will outwit you, if you take your eyea 
 from him for a moment." 
 
 " Yes, sir — all right, sir," was the response. 
 
 " You have received your instructions ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Kill him, if he attempts to escape." 
 
 The sentinel tried the lock of his carbine, which clicked signifi- 
 cantly, and then laughed. 
 
 Unfortunately, I did not pay sufficient attention to another 
 sound which I afterward remembered — the rattle of gold pieces 
 in Fenwick's pocket. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK. 
 
 I stretched myself beside Stuart, and was soon asleep. "We 
 were destined to have a somewhat disagreeable waking. 
 
 Half an hour before daylight, we suddenly heard heavy firing 
 near at hand, and started up. 
 
 The firing approached with rapidity ; the sound of horses at a 
 gallop was heard ; and, at the next moment, the picket, in the 
 direction of the river, appeared, retreating in hot haste. 
 
 "Look out!" they cried, "the enemy are on you !" 
 
 Stuart sprang to the saddle, and, in a moment, his bugle was 
 heard sounding " Boots and Saddles " — then, " To Horse." 
 
 He had hardly formed line when the enemy's cavalry came 
 upon him. They had rapidly spurred through the shallow ford, 
 driven in the picket, and, proceeding apparently upon soma 
 information, were now charging straight upon Stuart. 
 
 "Where is the prisoner I brought last night!" I suddenly ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Escaped, Major," replied a courier. 
 
 I darted to Stuart. 
 
 " Look out, General ! Fenwick has escaped to the enemy, and. 
 no doubt, given full information of your strength and position.*
 
 270 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I'll fight them, if they are a corps!" exclaimed the General, 
 hotly. "Form platoons!" 
 
 His sonorous voice was heard above the crack of the carbines. 
 
 " Draw sabres ! — charge !" 
 
 And, placing himself in front, Stuart led the charge in person, 
 his sabre gleaming in the moonlight. 
 
 Never shall I forget that scene. It was one of the wildest and 
 most romantic I ever witnessed. At least a division of Federal 
 cavalry had attacked Fitz Lee's small brigade, and, for half an 
 hour, nothing was seen but a fierce and determined struggle 
 between dusky shadows — nothing heard but yells, the sharp ring 
 of the carbine, and the clash of the sabre. 
 
 It was, altogether, a most mixed-up affair, and I can give no 
 better description of it than by saying that the men seemed to 
 fight each for himself, and without seeing their opponents. 
 
 I tried to keep with Stuart — lost him — and found myself in 
 the midst of a hundred blue-coats. 
 
 A sabre-blow cut my hat from my head — then my horse was 
 shot, and I felt him stagger. The next moment he fell, carrying 
 me with him, and catching my leg under him. 
 
 I was making violent efforts to disengage myself, when a 
 squadron of Stuart's, with the General at their head, charged 
 over me — the hoofs of the horses brushing my very face. 
 
 The squadron charged with the sabre, forcing the enemy back, 
 and I struggled to my feet. 
 
 A dozen riderless horses were galloping to and fro, mad with 
 terror, and I caught one, and mounted. I had scarcely done so, 
 when Stuart's line was seen falling back, under a heavy fire, and 
 pressed closely by a heavy force, with drawn sabres. 
 
 The crisis had come. Day showed the enemy the small force 
 of Stuart, and they were pressing him close. 
 
 I was by him, and saw the man " under pressure." His face 
 burned like fire, his eyes blazed, and he looked dangerous. "Do 
 or die" was in every look, and, sword in hand, he fought among 
 the men. 
 
 Reaching a good position, lie faced about and met them, sabre 
 to sabre. The fight began to rage more furiously than before,
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK. 271 
 
 and the whole field was filled with the clash of sabres and the 
 ring of pistols and carbines. 
 
 In five minutes Stuart would have been forced back and com- 
 pelled to retire from the field, when suddenly I heard a ringing 
 shout beyond the hill on the left — then a long line of sabres glit- 
 tered on the crest. A fresh regiment, on spirited horses, burst 
 like a torrent upon the enemy's flank, and in front of them I 
 recognized Mordaunt. 
 
 The charge of Mordaunt's column completely reversed the 
 whole aspect of the field. The Federal cavalry recoiled, wa- 
 vered, and then fell back. Fitz Lee advanced with a cheer in 
 front; Mordaunt closed in with the sabre; and in a marvellously 
 brief space the Federal cavalry were driven to the river. 
 
 Suddenly a white cloud, tipped with fire, rose from the oppo- 
 site bank, and a shell tore through the ranks, overthrowing men 
 and horses. Stuart rode up to Mordaunt, who was advancing 
 with his column. 
 
 "Colonel," said Stuart, "do you think you can take that bat- 
 tery?" 
 
 Mordaunt laughed, and wiped his bloody sabre on the mane of 
 his superb black horse. 
 
 "I can try, General," was his reply, and his face was resplen- 
 dent. His eyes sparkled — his white teeth appeared under his 
 black mustache : I had never before seen Mordaunt look happy. 
 
 Three bounds of his horse took him to the head of his column, 
 upon which two guns were now pouring a heavy fire. 
 
 "Forward!" he cried, with a whirl of his sabre. "Follow 
 me!" 
 
 And, darting at a gallop down the steep descent, at the head 
 of his column, Mordaunt fell like a thunderbolt upon the rear of 
 the enemy, now retreating rapidly across the ford. 
 
 The column did not pause. The platoons splashed into the 
 river, spurred through, and were then seen to mount the oppo- 
 site slope, charging straight into the muzzles of the artillery, 
 which hurled in their faces a hurricane of canister. 
 
 Still the column advanced at a headlong gallop, though wide 
 gaps were visible in the ranks, torn and bleeding from the storm
 
 272 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 sweeping through them — and still the flash of Mordaunt's sabre 
 was distinguished in front, his powerful black horse mounting 
 the slope with long leaps, which cleared r.ocks, ravines, and eve- 
 ry thing. 
 
 The Federal sharpshooters greeted him with a rapid and de- 
 structive fire, but were charged, ridden over, and cut down with 
 the sabre. Then a wild cheer arose above the roar of the guns 
 — the Southern column disappeared in the cloud of smoke — 
 the next moment they were seen sabring the cannoneers at the 
 guns, which had been hastily limbered up to be carried off. 
 
 It was too late. Mordaunt was in possession of the hill : he 
 was seen to close with the Federal cavalry, in a desperate hand- 
 to-hand conflict — and Stuart, who had risen in his stirrups and 
 shouted as he witnessed the charge, placed himself at the head 
 of the main body, and went at headlong speed to his support. 
 
 The ford was passed — Fitz Lee led his column straight up 
 the hill on Mordaunt's left, and in an instant the enemy were 
 furiously attacked in flank. Under this double assault they wa- 
 vered — the lines broke, and then gave way, followed by the 
 Southerners with triumphant cheers. 
 
 The crest was won, and the enemy completely routed. 
 
 LXXYI. 
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Stuart was sitting his horse upon the crest, when Mordaunt 
 rode up. The General's face was glowing, his blue eyes full of 
 martial fire. Mordaunt, on the contrary, displayed no emotion 
 on his dark countenance, and saluted with military coolness. 
 
 "A splendid charge, Colonel!" exclaimed Stuart, grasping his 
 hand. "I see you are of the 'if-you-want-to-take-a-battery-I'm- 
 your-man' sort! I never saw any thing finer." 
 
 Mordaunt bowed. 
 
 "Every thing depends on the start in cavalry, General — as 
 you know better than I do." 
 
 " Yes, yes."
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 273 
 
 " The men carried the hill easily." 
 
 "And your loss?" 
 
 " I am afraid it is considerable. The artillery had full play on 
 the column. In the charge over yonder I lost very few." 
 
 " And saved the day," 
 
 Mordaunt inclined again. 
 
 "My men will be proud to hear that you approve of their con- 
 duct, General." 
 
 " It was splendid. But who is that riding up ? Saltoun, or 
 I'm mistaken!" 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered when an officer, wearing the 
 uniform of a lieutenant of cavalry, approached at a gallop, and I 
 recognized the young Marylander who had joined us that day in 
 the Valley, at Captain Bogy's quarters. 
 
 A slender mustache curled proudly above his handsome, laugh- 
 ing mouth ; his eyes sparkled ; and from his hat floated gallantly 
 a splendid feather. He sat his horse admirably — and galloped 
 up, holding one hand in his breast. 
 
 "We thundered 'em that time, General!" he exclaimed, with 
 a loud laugh. "We took their artillery, drove them, and they 
 are not done running yet !" 
 
 "Bully for you!"* replied Stuart, echoing the young man's 
 laugh in a manner which showed that he was a favorite. " So 
 you have got your lieutenancy in the Maryland company ?" 
 
 " Yes, General, and made the company a speech ! I told them 
 'the despot's heel was on their shore,' and now or never was the 
 time to strike!" 
 
 "Good! — see that they do it. But what is the matter with 
 your arm ?" 
 
 I looked, and saw that the young lieutenant's sleeve was cov- 
 ered with blood. 
 
 "I was shot in the charge," he replied, "but it's not much. 
 Only a flesh wound. How are you, Major Surry?" 
 
 And, spurring to my side, the gay youngster shook handa cor- 
 dially. 
 
 * A fuTorltc expr«Mioa of Stuarf*. 
 12*
 
 274 SURRY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 ""We are old friends, you know," lie said, with a laugh. "I 
 saw old Bogy yesterday, and dined with him. He is looking out 
 for another wagon!" 
 
 Mordaunt turned at this movement, and, addressing the young 
 man, desired him to carry an order to his command, then moving 
 upon the road to the Rappahannock. He bowed with soldierly 
 grace, touched his horse with the spur, and darted off at a gal- 
 lop, his black feather floating in the wind. 
 
 "A gay youngster, Mordaunt," said Stuart; "how does he 
 fight ?" 
 
 " Like a firebrand !" was the reply. " He is as brave as steel, 
 and doesn't seem to know what stopping in a charge means." 
 
 " I thought he was made of that sort of stuff from the first. 
 He joined me in the Valley." 
 
 " A Marylander, I believe. But here is an officer with a pris- 
 oner, who must have something to communicate, General." 
 
 The officer approached and touched his hat. 
 
 " This man can tell you something about the attack last night, 
 General." 
 
 " "Well, out with it, " was Stuart's reply, addressing the pris- 
 oner. 
 
 His information was soon extracted. A man in citizen's 
 dress, perfectly answering to the description of Fenwick, had 
 come into their lines toward daylight that morning, and asked 
 for the commanding officer; he could tell, he said, what Con- 
 federate force was in front, and how it could be surprised. He 
 was conducted to head-quarters, and half-an-hour afterward 
 the order came to mount. 
 
 So Fenwick had brought the attack upon us, as I expected — 
 but how had he escaped? This I learned long afterward. He 
 had bribed his guard with a considerable sum in gold, which he 
 had upon his person ; the man could not resist the dazzling 
 coin ; and Fenwick had been allowed to glide off, mount his 
 horse, and escape to a point down the river, where he crossed, 
 and entered the Federal lines. 
 
 Hence the night attack upon Stuart.
 
 MY CAPTURED HORSE. 275 
 
 LXXYII. 
 
 WH.iT I FOUND IN THE SADDLE-POCKETS OF MY 
 
 CAPTURED HORSE. 
 
 Befoke proceeding with my narrative, I shall call the reader's 
 attention to a discovery which I made on the morning succeed- 
 ing the encounter upon the Rapidan. 
 
 It will be remembered that my hat was carried away by a 
 sabre cut, during the night attack, and my horse killed. I 
 regained my own hat, but mounted somebody else's horse; and 
 when I came to examine the equipments, I found, from papers in 
 the side-pockets of the " McOlellan-tree," that the animal bad 
 belonged to a Lieutenant Govran, of the Federal Army, no doubt 
 wounded or killed in the engagement. The papers alluded to 
 were chiefly private letters addressed to the lieutenant; and 
 what was my astonishment to find among them one directed in 
 the handwriting of my brother Will ! 
 
 His letter was gay and rollicking — such as one youngster 
 addresses to another who has been with him at West Point. It 
 announced that the writer had just secured his transfer to the 
 cavalry ; had made " a scout " in the direction of White Plains ; 
 and had met, at the residence of a lady in that vicinity, a certain 
 Miss Henrietta Fitzhugh, with whom he had fallen desperately in 
 love ! In every line of the letter I recognized Will. He was 
 evidently the same jovial, thoughtless, rollicking boy as before; 
 and his letter overflowed with, fun, jokes, and rapture about his 
 pew flame. 
 
 " But what do you think, Tom," he went on, " the little raa'm- 
 selle just turned up her nose at my blue uniform, and would 
 Hcarcely speak to me. She is not more than sixteen, but she's a 
 perfect tartar, and, as the only way of standing any chance with 
 her, I believe I'll desert, put on a gray jacket, and enlist in old 
 Stonewall Jackson's band. I wouldn't be surprised if I had an 
 opportunity soon. Pope seems blind, and I predict Jackson 
 will be after him soon with a sharp stick. You can't think how
 
 276 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 crazy my little friend, Miss Henrietta, is about Jackson and 
 Stuart. She goes into ecstasies about 'em, and made me blue 
 to think I was fighting against them and old Virginia. Tom, I 
 would give my right arm if this war was finished!" 
 
 Will's adjectives preceding the word " war " I refrain from 
 recording. 
 
 Such was his letter. It was a curious way of hearing from 
 one's brother in the United States Army ! But there it was ; and 
 I hope I shall not be regarded as having violated " private cor- 
 respondence." 
 
 As I rode along I continued to reflect, not without sadness, 
 upon this discovery. Has the reader forgotten Miss Henrietta 
 Fitzhugh ? It is probable. But I remembered her perfectly — 
 her gayety and abandon ; her coquettish ways ; and the clouds 
 and sunshine which alternately flitted across the pretty face 
 of the little witch of sixteen. For Will to have fallen in love 
 with her, complicated matters terribly. She was passionately 
 Southern in her feelings ; and could not bear the thought of 
 even speaking to a Federal officer. That of all the maidens in 
 the whole wide world, my brother should go and place his affec- 
 tions upon this little will-o'-the-wisp ! 
 
 I put away the letter with a sigh, went to attend to my 
 duties, and tried to forget the whole affair. But still I kept 
 thinking of it. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF GENERAL EARLY. 
 
 Stuart continued to press the Federal cavalry toward the 
 Rappahannock ; and soon the sound of artillery on the left in 
 the direction of Culpepper Court-House indicated that General 
 Lee was attacking in front. 
 
 The sound speedily began to recede northward ; the cavalry 
 in our front continued to fall back, and, reaching a lofty hill near 
 Stevensburg, we could see the infantry column of Pope rapidly 
 retreating to the Rappahannock.
 
 GLIMPSE OF GENERAL EARLY. 277 
 
 I hastened to rejoin General Jackson, who was pressing closely 
 upon the Federal rear, and came up with him near Hazel 
 River. 
 
 The appearance of the country through which I passed was 
 frightful. I had seen hard fighting up to this time, but never 
 before fully comprehended the horrors of war when conducted 
 upon the principles of Attila. The country was a desert. On 
 every side were the ruins of houses, wantonly burned by the 
 troops of General Pope ; the fences were destroyed ; the forests 
 cut down ; the fields laid waste ; and this beautiful land, but 
 recently a scene of peace, plenty, and happiness, was the picture 
 of woe and desolation. The sight of those ruins, from which 
 women and children had fled to escape plunder and insult, gave 
 me the heartache ; a weight seemed pressing upon my breast as 
 I passed through this desolated region. I felt for the enemy a 
 hatred a thousand-fold greater than any which could have been 
 produced by blood spilled fairly in open fight, and ten thousand 
 others felt the same. 
 
 Jackson hastened forward to the Rappahannock ; and all along 
 that river, across which the enemy had retreated, commenced a 
 hot artillery engagement — the Federal forces obstinately dis- 
 puting the passage of the stream. Jackson was in front, and, 
 rapidly advancing to Warrenton Springs, threw two brigades 
 across, under General Early. This, I think, was on the 22d of 
 August, and on the next day a violent rain-storm produced such 
 a freshet in the river that all the bridges were washed away. 
 
 Early's position was now extremely critical. The enemy's 
 main body was in his immediate vicinity, and might attack him 
 at any moment. 
 
 I was talking with General Jackson when a courier rode 
 up with a message from Early, that he could not hold his posi- 
 tion. 
 
 " When did you leave him ?" asked Jackson, briefly. 
 
 "About two hours ago, General. I had to go to the upper 1 
 ford to cross." 
 
 "Why not swim?" 
 
 "My horse is too weak."
 
 278 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " And you are going all the way around again ?" 
 
 The courier looked abashed. 
 
 My own horse, I informed the General, was quite fresh, and I 
 would take his message. 
 
 " Thank you, Major. Tell General Early that he must hold 
 his position." 
 
 "Under any circumstances?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 I saluted, and set out rapidly for the river. It was a perfect 
 torrent; but, pushing my "Yankee horse," much against his 
 will, into the current, I managed to force him through. He 
 scrambled up the opposite bank, and I was very soon in presence 
 of General Early. The person and character of this brave officer 
 are probably well known to most of my readers. Fancy a rough, 
 curling head, a pair of piercing eyes under shaggy brows, a cyni- 
 cal smile, a nasal utterance, and the air of one who is afraid of 
 nothing upon earth — there is General Early as he then appeared. 
 
 "How are you, Major?" said the General, in bis peculiar 
 drawl through the nose. "Any news?" 
 
 "None, General." 
 
 " The enemy are pressing me here. Did General Jackson re- 
 ceive my message ? I sent a courier three hours ago. I will 
 murder him when he returns." 
 
 " He received your message, and I came over to bring the an- 
 swer. General Jackson desires you to hold your position." 
 
 " Can't do it." 
 
 " The order is imperative, General — to hold your ground un- 
 der all circumstances." 
 
 Early shook his head obstinately, and said, in his slow, delib- 
 erate voice, with that indescribable drawl through the nose : 
 
 " I have reconnoitred the ground in my front and flanks, Ma- 
 jor, and — I'll he if I can hold it." * 
 
 The General smiled cheerfully as he spoke, and dwelt with evi- 
 dent pleasure and emphasis upon the words italicized. I began 
 to laugh. 
 
 * Hii words.
 
 GLIMPSE OF GENERAL EARLY. 279 
 
 " Well, General, I liave given you the order in General Jack- 
 eon's very words." 
 
 "Oh," was the drawling response, "don't give yourself any 
 trouble, Major, about that. You don't understand. I don't 
 mean that I am not going to hold this position — I mean I'll 
 
 be if I can hold it. Old Jubal can be cut to pieces 
 
 as well as any other man!" 
 
 And, uttering a low chuckle, the General seemed to contem- 
 plate that ceremony of being made mince-meat of with actual 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Such was not, however, to be his fate. He was reserved for 
 those hard fights against the great odds of Sheridan; and was to 
 startle Washington with the roll of his drum. 
 
 My horse carried me back without accident, and I found Jack- 
 son superintending in person the preparations for building a 
 bridge. Heavy details were already at work ; the timbers were 
 stretched across ; and, just as the enemy advanced to throw them- 
 selves upon Early, his column defiled across, the rear-guard hotly 
 engaged with the Federal advance.* 
 
 Jackson had a long conversation with Early, and both then 
 rode to General Lee's head-quarters, where they were soon clos- 
 eted with him. When Jackson came out, he said to me : 
 
 " Major, I wish you to ride to General Stuart — you know 
 where to find him — give my compliments to him, and say that I 
 have had a consultation with General Lee, and it, is of the utmost 
 importance that a reconnoissance should be made in the direc- 
 tion of Warrenton. The enemy's force and movements are not 
 known accurately — whether they intend to fight here or retreat 
 further. Explain this to the General. If he can cut the railroad 
 in the enemy's rear, so much the better. This might be done 
 near Oatlett's. No time should be lost." 
 
 "Any thing further, General?" 
 
 " Nothing. Don't lose time on the road, Major." 
 
 I went in the direction of Stuart, soon found him, and deliv- 
 ered my message. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 280 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Good ! I was thinking of that very thing." 
 
 And he issued orders which put his column in motion in ten. 
 minutes. 
 
 " Come on, Surry, and i jine the cavalry' !" said Stuart, laugh- 
 ing; "perhaps we may secure our revenge for Verdiersville." 
 
 I could not resist — something about Stuart drew me. I rode 
 by Jackson's head-quarters, obtained his permission, and set 
 out with Stuart on his raid. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 STUART TAKES HIS REVENGE. 
 
 Crossing the Rappahannock above Jeffersonton, Stuart pushed 
 forward with his column, and, passing in the vicinity of Warren- 
 ton, made for the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, directly in the 
 enemy's rear. 
 
 By this time the sun was down, and, knowing the danger 
 which attends operating with cavalry by night, I supposed that 
 Stuart would go into bivouac with his command and wait for 
 daylight. I said as much, but he shook his head. 
 
 "Can't afford the time," he replied. "It is hazardous to 
 move cavalry at night, but I must risk it. Hagan ! " 
 
 The word was passed back to the escort, and soon the dark- 
 bearded giant whom I had formerly known in the Valley rode 
 forward and saluted. Hagan was unchanged, except that his 
 beard was heavier, his eye more twinkling, bis huge mustache 
 more prone than ever to curl with lurking humor. When he 
 spoke, his voice was like the rumble of winds from the caverns 
 of iEolus. 
 
 Hagan, I soon learned, was corporal of the guard — in other 
 words, commanded the General's escort. He recognized me 
 immediately, and, putting two fingers to his hat, exclaimed 
 "Major!" in the most military style. 
 
 " Hagan," said the General, "do you know this country?"
 
 STUAKT TAKES HIS REVENGE. 281 
 
 " Not just along here, General — but I have got two men who 
 do." 
 
 "Call them up." 
 
 Hagan turned and called, in a thundering voice : 
 
 "Snakebug!" 
 
 "Who on earth is that?" exclaimed Stuart, with a laugh. 
 
 " Only a little pet name, General." 
 
 "Well, call the other." 
 
 Hagan again elevated his voice, and shouted : 
 
 " Moonshine !" 
 
 This was more than Stuart could stand. He laid back on hia 
 horse, and uttered a "haw, haw !" which exploded like a pistol. 
 
 "I will put your friend Moonshine in front of my column, 
 Hagan. He's the very man for a march at night ! He shall 
 light the way. Where is he?" 
 
 " Here, General," responded Hagan ; and, turning round with 
 austere dignity : 
 
 "Moonshine!" he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir," submissively responded Moonshine, a thin and 
 wiry individual, with a hawk nose and eye. 
 
 "Snakebug!" 
 
 "Here we are, Corporal," came in gutteral tones from Snake- 
 bug, who had the appearance of a gentleman ready to go through 
 fire and storm for plunder. 
 
 "Speak to the General!" said Hagan, in a voice of thunder; 
 and Snakebug and Moonshine rode forward. They stated that 
 they knew the country perfectly ; and, sending one with the 
 advance-guard, Stuart kept the other. 
 
 My friend Corporal Hagan had touched his hat with that 
 military courtesy which characterized him, and fallen back to 
 take command of his detachment. 
 
 Stuart now advanced, without pause, although the night had 
 grown pitch dark, and the sky was overclouded. Soon some 
 rain-drops began to fall. 
 
 " That's bad," he muttered. " I must hurry up here, or the 
 streams in the rear will be so swollen as to prevent my return." 
 " Where are we now, General ?"
 
 282 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 He called to Moonshine, who reported that they were then 
 within about two miles of Catlett's Station. 
 
 "I'll go there to-night, at all events," said the General; 
 " move on with the column." 
 
 We now advanced in silence, through the black darkness, 
 under a heavy drizzle, which was rapidly changing into a regular 
 rain-storm. It was impossible to see three feet ahead ; and the 
 idea of charging headlong over broken and unknown ground, 
 upon an enemy whose position was unknown, did not suggest 
 the most pleasing ideas. 
 
 But Stuart seemed to have no doubt of the result. He was as 
 gay and cheerful as ever ; and, taking the head of the column, 
 advanced through the black darkness, at a rapid trot, straight 
 toward Oatlett's. 
 
 "Now for it, Surry!" he said, with animation, as we came in 
 sight of glimmering lights; "out with your sabre, and I'll lead 
 the way!" ' 
 
 " Where !" was my response to the unseen voice. 
 
 " Right into the enemy !" 
 
 " All right, General; but I'm getting horribly demoralized." 
 
 "At what?" 
 
 *' For fear I shall be charged by some gigantic limb on these 
 trees, and ignobly unhorsed in the very beginning." 
 
 Stuart laughed. 
 
 " Shut your eyes, and trust to luck ! Yonder they are !" 
 
 At that moment a scout hurried up, and Stuart recognized his 
 voice. 
 
 "Well!" he exclaimed, "here I am, Stringfellow ! What 
 intelligence?" 
 
 " You are within eight hundred yards of Pope's head-quarters, 
 General." 
 
 Stuart uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "Press on with the column !" was his loud order. The olatter 
 >f hoofs redoubled. Then quick firing was heard from the 
 advance-guard, and the flash of carbines shone in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 "Forward!" cried the General, drawing his sabre.
 
 STUART TAKES HIS REVENGE. 283 
 
 Bang! bang! bang! was heard from the advance-guard. 
 They were driving in the picket. 
 
 Then a loud cheer arose in front. 
 
 "Draw sabres! — charge!" came in a ringing shout from 
 Stuart ; and, digging the spur into his horse, he went at a head- 
 long gallop straight down the road, followed by his column. 
 
 "We were approaching the railroad, and the ground became 
 broken, intersected with ravines, and almost impassable. Worse 
 than all, the obstacles were invisible. I only knew by the quick 
 leaps of my horse what we were passing over. On came the 
 column behind ; and suddenly I heard exclamations, a heavy 
 " thud " or two, and the clatter of accoutrements. More than 
 one horse and rider had "gone under," and were rolling in the 
 ditch. The rest, however, pressed on — a sudden volley was fired 
 in our faces — then we were at the tents, from which the Federal 
 officers ran in their night-clothes. , 
 
 The scene was animated. The fight had commenced, and the 
 whole locality was one maze of quick flashes, accompanied by 
 the sharp crack of carbines. 
 
 The men charged straight forward on the railroad ; drove the 
 Federal forces beyond it ; and quickly set to work to tear up every 
 thing, and destroy the bridge near by. 
 
 In this latter attempt they were unsuccessful, the rain having 
 wetted the timbers to such a degree as to prevent them from 
 kindling. As the light revealed the forms of the men, destruc- 
 tive volleys were poured into them from the darkness. 
 
 I went to witness the bridge burning, but soon galloped back 
 to Stuart, who was in the midst of the fire, cheering on the 
 men. Suddenly an officer rode up to him, said something, and I 
 heard that quick, animated response which always indicated in- 
 tense satisfaction with the General. He galloped to a tent at 
 some distance — and I saw at once that it was the adjutant- 
 general's. It contained all the "official papers" of the Federal 
 army ! — and near at hand, in another tent, was General Pope's 
 coat, with its badge of rank, hastily left by him in his flight.* 
 
 * Historical.
 
 284 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 As Stuart held it up to the light, he burst into a laugh, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Here is my revenge for losing my hat and cape at Verdi ers- 
 ville!" 
 
 The important official documents were at once secured, and 
 having accomplished this, so much more than he expected, Stuart 
 ordered tho pursuit of the scattered enemy to cease, and his 
 command to fall into column. 
 
 Ere long, they were rapidly retiring over the same road by 
 which they had come, to regain the Southern lines before the 
 waters rose in their rear. 
 
 "Well, Surry!" exclaimed the General, as we rode along, 
 "what do you think of your raid?" 
 
 " I like it, General." " 
 
 " It is more than a success — far more. Do you know what we 
 found yonder? Those papers are a complete expose of Pope's 
 strength, position, expectations, and designs. He writes that 
 without Burnside he can't hold his ground, and must retreat 
 from Virginia! We know his whole hand now, and can play 
 our cards to suit it!" 
 
 "Then you have completely blocked his game." 
 
 "It looks like it — to say nothing of capturing the General 
 commanding's coat ! Ha! ha!" 
 
 And Stuart laughed with the keenest enjoyment. 
 
 On tho next morning we had re-entered the Southern lines, 
 and General Lee had the captured papers. A few hours after- 
 ward Jackson ordered three days' rations to be issued, and his 
 men to be gotten under arms. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 FLANKING POPE. 
 
 Thb long glittering column was drawn up, ready to march. 
 The clothes of the men were in rags, and their feet bare ; but 
 their faces were laughing and their bayonets bright.
 
 FLANKING POPE. 285 
 
 I rode along the column, and heard upon all sides — who can 
 tell whence the information came ? — " Old Jack is goin' to flank 
 'em!" 
 
 That was the exact truth. Jackson left the vicinity of War- 
 renton Springs, ascended the left bank of the Rappahannock, 
 passed Amissville, and, crossing at the narrow, rock-bound, and 
 forgotten ford at Hinson's Mill, dragged his artillery up the op- 
 posite acclivity, and pushed on to the little village of Orleans. 
 
 Stuart's cavalry, except one regiment in front, moved on the 
 right of this column, between it and the enemy, keeping off their 
 scouting parties ; and, leaving the high road to Barbee's, Jack- 
 son struck into the fields, pressing forward through farm gates, 
 and along obscure country roads, toward Salem. 
 
 The people greeted the sight of the gray coats with perfect 
 amazement. But it was a joyful surprise. They ran to their 
 doors, full- handed, to welcome and feed the weary troops — on 
 all sides were heard joyous exclamations — and so the column 
 pushed on, weary but laughing, toward Thoroughfare Gap. If 
 it could only reach and pass through that frowning defile before 
 the enemy were aware of the intention, the great depot of stores, 
 at Manassas, would be at Jackson's mercy. 
 
 At sunset Jackson sat his horse, looking at the column as it 
 defiled before him. He had issued orders that the men were not 
 to cheer, for fear of attracting the enemy's attention, and the 
 troops, as they passed before him, only took off their ragged old 
 hats and waved them round their heads. This silent greeting 
 seemed to touch Jackson greatly. The setting sun shone on his 
 face, and the countenance at that moment was resplendent. 
 There was something proud and yet gentle in the brilliant eye, 
 the expression of the lips, and the air of the man, as, sitting his 
 old sorrel in the yellow light, he gazed from beneath his dingy 
 cap — chin in air — upon his followers. 
 
 All at once a single cheer rose; and the effect was electric. 
 It ran along the line ; the air was split by a great shout ; the long 
 pent-up feelings of the troops had burst forth. 
 
 Jackson's face glowed; he raised his cap in response, and 
 the cheers redoubled. The men whirled their old felt hats
 
 286 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 around their heads with wild enthusiasm. With sparkling eyes, 
 and rising in his stirrups as he spoke, Jackson said : 
 " " Who could help being proud of such men as these?" 
 
 And, touching his horse with the spur, he galloped on to the 
 front, still pursued by the tumultuous cheering. 
 
 The exhausted troops were now halted near Salem, for food 
 and sleep ; and knowing that the column would move at the ear- 
 liest dawn, every man lay down, with his musket at his side, 
 ready to respond to the order at a moment's warning. 
 
 I did not lie down ; and now beg that the reader will accom- 
 pany me on a short ride I took. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 I CHASE AND COME UP WITH A FEDERAL OFFICER. 
 
 The object of my night-ride is probably no mystery to the 
 reader. Salem was near White Plains ; and near White Plains 
 was "Elm Cottage." 
 
 I had determined to go and reconnoitre in that direction, in 
 spite of the Federal cavalry in our front. Many things induced 
 me to visit the cottage. Was Violet Grafton still there ? Had 
 Fenwick again been lurking around the place? I say again, for, 
 in his night interview with Mrs. Parkins, he had spoken of his 
 reception by Violet. Had Mrs. Fitzhugh heard from May Bever- 
 ley ? It was that last question which, despite my fatigue, made 
 me get into the saddle. 
 
 The ember was not cold. It flamed again at a breath. Do 
 you laugh, good reader, at the love-sick condition of the unfor- 
 tunate Surry, pining, with a hopeless attachment, for a woman 
 who was to be the wife of another? Alas ! love laughs at logi« 
 as well as locksmiths — and, though I have not insisted upon 
 speaking incessantly of Miss May Beverley, she had occupied my 
 thoughts on many battle-fields, and bent over me, beautiful and 
 smiling, as I fell asleep by numerous camp-fires ! Such things, I 
 know, never ooour in the lives of other men — and of you, belovefi
 
 I CHASE A FEDERAL OFFICER. 287 
 
 reader, this fable has never been narrated. But ao it was. I 
 tried to cease the immoral proceeding ; but I was in love with 
 my neighbor Baskerville's wife — I coveted the property of that 
 paladin and flower of chivalry, as much as ever ! 
 
 So I went to find whether Mrs. Fitzhugh had heard from her, 
 and incidentally to see Violet Grafton and the rest. 
 
 The infantry picket halted me, but, upon giving my name to 
 the officer, I was allowed to pass. The same occurred when I 
 came to the exterior picket of cavalry, and I rode on through the 
 darkness. For half an hour, no sound broke the deep stillness. 
 The enemy's scouts, I suspected, were prowling around, but none 
 made their appearance — and ere long I came in sight of the 
 clump of trees embowering Elm Cottage. 
 
 From a distance came the glimmer of a cheerful light ; and, 
 pressing forward, I had reached the outer gate, when the neigh 
 of a horse was heard near the house. My own horse neighed in 
 reply ; and I was galloping along the winding avenue, when, all 
 at once, the door opened, a flood of light poured through it, and 
 I recognized the blue uniform of an officer of the U. S. Army. 
 
 He had taken two rapid steps toward his horse, when I or- 
 dered him to halt and surrender. 
 
 His reply was a loud laugh, which I distinctly heard ; and, 
 turning to utter a few hasty words to some ladies behind him, 
 he ran to his horse. 
 
 As he mounted I fired upon him, but did not strike him. A 
 second laugh greeted the shot ; and, clearing the low fence, the 
 officer darted off. 
 
 I followed, and pursued at full speed, ordering him to halt or 
 I would kill him. His horse was fleeter than my own, and the 
 distance between us was increasing ; but suddenly my challenge 
 seemed to produce the desired effect. He drew rein — I ap- 
 proached at full speed — and, lovelling my pistol at his head, said : 
 
 '' You are my prisoner !" 
 
 A third burst of laughter greeted me; the figure held out hi* 
 hand ; and I heard, in the familiar voice of "Will Surry : 
 
 " How are you, brother 1" 
 
 "Will!" I exclaimed.
 
 288 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Certainly it is Will, and you have given me a devil of a 
 chase!" responded the boy ; "to say nothing of that shot, which 
 has spoiled my very best coat:" 
 
 And, with a gay laugh, the Bpeaker showed me the collar of 
 his uniform coat, which was pierced by a bullet. 
 
 " Good God! — this miserable war !" I could not forbear from 
 exclaiming. " Brother taking the life of brother !" 
 
 " Not at all ! I never felt better in my life ; and my horse, 
 too, is unhurt. I could easily have gotten off; but I recog- 
 nized your voice, and stopped, to hear the news from home, 
 brother." 
 
 These words were an inexpressible relief to me. Then Will 
 was not my prisoner — he had voluntarily stopped, and I was not 
 bound, in honor, to regard him as a captured officer. 
 
 In a moment we had dismounted, thrown ourselves upon the 
 grass by the road-side, in the light of the rising moon, and I was 
 answering the boy's ardent questions. They were all about 
 home. 
 
 " And so the dear old gentleman is well. And how is Annie — 
 my little pet?" 
 
 "Perfectly well." 
 
 " And old Carlo ! Does he hunt now ? How are the ducks 
 on the river? And what's become of Jenny Clayton — at the 
 North still ? Pshaw ! why ain't she at home ? Brother, there's 
 no place in the world like Old Virginia — it's the best of lands, 
 and Eagle's- Nest is the best place in it!" 
 
 I could make no reply. There was something inexpressibly 
 sad to me in these questions, from an officer of the U. S. Army. 
 
 " I see what you are thinking of," said the boy, with a cloud 
 upon his brow. " I am an enemy — fighting against you. Well, 
 so I am — but I can't help it, brother ! I thought Virginia would 
 not secede, and held on to my commission until the fighting 
 commenced — and then I thought it my duty to stay in the army. 
 The devil of it is," ho added, with a quick sigh, "that I can't 
 help wishing the South would whip ! But I'm going on 'fight- 
 ing for the old flag' — that's a glorious sentiment — eh?" 
 
 He remained for a moment silent and gloomy.
 
 I CHASE A FEDERAL OFFICER. 289 
 
 "And to-night," he said, in a low tone, "suppose you had 
 killed me? I wouldn't have cared, but you know it would haye 
 broken your heart." 
 
 "Indeed it would, Will." 
 
 "I say, brother," he said, resuming his good spirits, "don't 
 let us shoot at each other hereafter ! War is my trade, but I 
 am not bound to kill you; and as to your shooting me, that 
 would be remarkably inconvenient just at this time." 
 
 I could not help catching the contagion of the boy's light- 
 heartedness, and gliding to more pleasant themes. 
 
 " The fact is, brother," he said, " I'm dead in love with a little 
 girl not a hundred miles from this place, and being killed would 
 seriously interfere with my arrangements." 
 
 "You mean Henrietta Fitzhugh?" 
 
 " How in the world did you know it ?" 
 
 I told him the history of his letter, and he said : 
 
 " So poor Tom Govran is wounded or killed. Sorry for him ! 
 And you've got my letter ?" 
 
 " In my valise." 
 
 "And know all about my 'flame,' as the poets say! But 
 brother, she's a regular tartar, and will scarcely speak to me. 
 I had just ' dropped ' in when I heard your horse neigh, and 
 thought you were a whole squadron, or I wouldn't have run so. 
 But here I am running on about trifles. Tell me all about dear 
 old Eagle's-Nest, and your own adventures ? Did you get over 
 your wound soon ? Is the old place changed ? What does our 
 old mammy say about the war ? Does Annie ' love me as 
 before ?' " 
 
 And the boy ran on in a perfect torrent of questions — all now 
 about ' the old folks at home.' I replied to all — and eo we 
 conversed for more than an hour. Under the great oak beneath 
 which we had thrown ourselves, two brothers were talking of 
 home ; the gray and blue coats made no difference — the hearts 
 which they covered beat close together. On the heaving arena 
 of war they had found this little spot of firm soil to stand 
 upon and greet each other as they were borne along. 
 
 We were talking still when shots were heard upon the right, 
 13
 
 290 SURRY OP EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 at the di3tanoe of about half a mile ; and "Will rose to his feet 
 There were tears in his eyes, as he said : 
 
 " My company is yonder ! I must go there." 
 
 "Good-by, Will." 
 
 "Good-by, brother!" 
 
 A close pressure of the hand — and in a moment he had 
 disappeared. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 VIOLET GRAFTON'S SECRET. 
 
 I rode back toward Elm Cottage, but was not destined to 
 arrive as soon as I expected. 
 
 My horse had scarcely brought me again in sight of the 
 house, when I saw a figure standing in the road before me, and, 
 drawing nearer, recognized Violet Grafton. 
 
 In a moment I had dismounted, and we had exchanged a cor- 
 dial greeting. By the light of the moon, which had now fully 
 risen, I could make out every feature and expression of the 
 charming face — the large blue eyes, with their mild and tranquil 
 splendor, the innocent mouth, the cheeks upon which two blush- 
 roses seemed blooming, and the broad fair brow, upon each side 
 of which fell those closely curled ringlets of bright golden hair. 
 She was very simply clad, but her figure was exquisitely grace- 
 ful, with the light shawl drooping from the shoulders. 
 
 "I recognized you as you followed Lieutenant Surry," she 
 said in her calm sweet voice. 
 
 " He is my brother ; we have been talking for an hour." 
 
 And I related every thing. 
 
 " This terrible war !" she said with a sigh. " Oh, when will it 
 end ? I am "in fear and trembling for my friends in the army, 
 all the time." 
 
 "Perhaps I can give you news of some of them," I said. 
 
 " I have very few," was her reply, accompanied by a quick 
 look toward me, which I did not understand. I thought she was 
 about to add something, but she only colored slightly.
 
 VIOLET GRAFTON'S SECRET. 29} 
 
 All at once, I know not why, I thought of the night ride of the 
 young lady with Mordaunt, hefore the battle of Manassas, and 
 said: 
 
 " You remember Colonel Mordaunt, do you not?" 
 
 I was startled by the effect which my words produced. Her 
 head turned quickly, and I could see her become suddenly pale. 
 
 "Has any thing happened to him!" she exclaimed in a quick, 
 agitated voice. " He is not wounded!" — I saw that she had 
 not strength to add, "or dead." Her eyes dwelt, with an ex- 
 pression of agony almost, upon my face. That look revealed the 
 secret of Violet Grafton. 
 
 " He is perfectly well," was my reply. 
 
 She drew a long breath — her bosom heaved. 
 
 "I am very glad," she murmured, rapidly regaining her calm- 
 ness. " I heard something of a battle on the Rapidan, in which 
 his regiment was engaged." 
 
 " The report was correct. Mordaunt made a splendid charge 
 in the action, but came out of it entirely unhurt." 
 
 She inclined her head, and we walked on toward tho cot- 
 tage. 
 
 'My interest in Colonel Mordaunt, perhaps, surprises you," 
 she said in an instant; "but we became very good friends on 
 that night ride from Manassas, before the battle." 
 
 "Is it possible? Mordaunt is the coldest of the cold toward 
 your sex." 
 
 "Yes, that is true." 
 
 I hesitated for a moment, and then said : 
 
 " Did you give him his package ? Do not think rac a prying 
 person, Miss Grafton. I chance to know that those letters were 
 written by his wife." 
 
 And I went on to speak of some portions of the narrative 
 which I had heard from the lips of Fenwick. 
 
 " I see that you know every thing — even more than myself," 
 was her low reply ; " but you are in error upon one point. That 
 package did not contain letters, but a regular journal, written by 
 my poor cousin from day to day — from the moment that sha 
 left home until the time when 6he became insane."
 
 292 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "And from those papers Mordaunt knew all." 
 
 She gently inclined her bead, and I walked on in silence. I 
 had then been instrumental in convincing Mordaunt of his wife's 
 fidelity and devotion. The contents of that package had lifted 
 from his life, to some extent at least, the deep shadow of misery 
 which rendered the whole female sex abhorrent to him. He 
 knew, from that journal of the poor dead woman, that she had 
 loved him to the last — that he was still her ' darling.' To a 
 man like Mordaunt, writhing under a sense of shame, this con- 
 viction, I felt, must be an inexpressible relief. 
 
 "It is a happiness to me, Miss Grafton," I said at length, "to 
 know that Colonel Mordaunt has thus been enlightened in re- 
 gard to this horrible mystery. I will add that he is fortunate 
 too — solitary and unhappy as he may be — in securing your 
 friendship." 
 
 " Oh! that is nothing — he is very noble!" 
 
 And the telltale cheek again glowed. 
 
 " You cannot like hira more than I do," was my reply ; " he i9 
 the soul of honor, and is noted throughout the army for his 
 reckless courage. He is not far off now, and perhaps may have 
 time to call and see you." 
 
 I had scarcely uttered the words when hoof- strokes were 
 heard upon the road, and a horseman, followed a few paces in 
 rear by another, was seen approaching. In the foremost I 
 recognized Mordaunt — in the latter, his Moorish servant, Achmed. 
 
 Mordaunt recognized us in an instant, and bowed to Miss 
 Grafton with an air of cold, proud courtesy. Then dismounting, 
 he calmly held out his hand to me, and said : 
 
 " You don't seem to be afraid of capture, Major. Do you 
 know that you are outside my picket, and very near the 
 enemy?" 
 
 "I supposed so," was my laughing reply; "but if Colonel 
 Mordaunt can risk it, I can." 
 
 " I shall be busy to-morrow, and came to see my friends here 
 for a moment." 
 
 And bowing again to the young lady he walked on — Achmed 
 having taken his horse.
 
 MISS HENRIETTA CONFUSES ME. 293 
 
 There was a happy light in Violet Grafton's eyes, which no 
 longer left me in any doubt — and I sighed. What evil for- 
 tune had made this girl of such exquisite nature place her affec- 
 tions upon that marble statue? It was spring-rose and icicle, 
 sunshine and snow. Would the snow ever melt? 
 
 I was asking myself that question, when Violet Grafton 
 dropped her handkerchief. Before Mordaunt or myself could 
 pick it up, Achined, the young Moor, had bounded to the spot, 
 lifted it from the ground, and pressed it to his lips with a pas- 
 sionate gesture, which betrayed his warm Eastern blood. 
 
 As he did so, his face became crimson, his sparkling eyes sank 
 before the cold look of Mordaunt, and, with head bowed sub- 
 missively on his breast, he approached Miss Grafton, knelt upon 
 one knee, and, with the air of a slave in presence of his mistress, 
 presented the handkerchief. As she took it, his forehead sank 
 lower, he crossed both hands upon his breast, and remained 
 thus with abased eyes, until the young lady passed. He did 
 not see, or dared not take the hand which she held out to him. 
 
 " He is asking you to pardon his presumption in pressing your 
 handkerchief to his lips," said Mordaunt, coolly ; "the boy is the 
 creature of impulse." 
 
 And they walked on. Before reaching the house, however, I 
 thought I could see in the face of the young Moor, who now 
 gravely followed, an expression which accounted for that sudden 
 act. Had I discovered, in one evening, a double secret ? Had 
 Achmed ever seen the young lady before? — and what was the 
 meaning of that passionate glance ? 
 
 And Mordaunt? That mask of ice showed nothing. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 I AM THROWN INTO CONFUSION BY MISS HENRIETTA 
 
 On the trellised porch we met Mrs. Fitzhugh and her gay 
 niece, Miss Henrietta, who uttered many exclamations at my ap- 
 pearance. I merely said that my chase had resulted in nothing,
 
 294: SURRY OF E AGLE'6-NEST. 
 
 and no further allusion was made to the visit of Lieutenant "Will 
 Surry. 
 
 The excellent old lady led the way into the house, and insisted 
 upon giving me a good supper. Mordaunt had supped, he said, 
 and he and Miss Grafton remained upon the porch, conversing 
 in the light of the 6plendid August moon. The Moor remained 
 in charge of the horses — but I could see that his dark eyes were 
 fixed upon Miss Grafton. 
 
 During the meal, which was a marvellous and exciting 
 spectacle to the eyes of a hungry soldier, I was amused by the 
 gay sallies of Miss Henrietta, and the delightfully plain-spoken 
 views of Mrs. Fitzhugh. I have stated, on a former page, that 
 the excellent old dame had the habit of saying exactly what she 
 thought upon every subject. If 6he did not like anybody, she 
 was very apt to say so, and give the grounds of her opinion. I 
 soon found that she did not like Captain Baskerville — upon 
 whom the conversation soon chanced to turn. 
 
 Here is how that happened : 
 
 SuEiiT, with his mouth full: "Have you heard from the Oak 
 lately, Mrs. Fitzhugh?" 
 
 Mrs. FiTznuGn, lusily knitting hy thefre, while Miss Henri- 
 etta pours out : " Several times, and all are well but May. I 
 believe she is pining away at the idea of marrying that Captain 
 Baskerville. They are engaged, but May can't bear him — and 
 her opinion of him is perfectly just." 
 
 Surry, with deference and interest: "Her opinion of Captain 
 Baskerville, madam V 
 
 Mrs. Fitzhugh, knitting more busily ; Yes, she has not a par- 
 ticle of respect for him, my dear. I forget, you are not one of 
 my nephews. May can't respect Captain Baskerville, and she 
 can't bear the idea of marrying him. As sure as you sit there, 
 Mr. Surry, that man is a mean person. I never was mistaken in 
 a human face, and I know Frederick Baskerville besides. He 
 always has been mean. He would sell his soul for money, and he 
 don't care a rush for May Beverley or any one else, for them- 
 selves." 
 
 Surry : " You surprise me, Mrs. Fitzhugh I I thought Cap-
 
 MISS HENRIETTA CONFUSES ME. 295 
 tain Baskerville was rich, and Miss Beverley by no means 
 
 80." 
 
 Mrs. Fitzhtjgh : " Yes, he is rich, but so is May. Her uncle, 
 an old bachelor, who was very fond of her, by his will, when 
 she was fourteen, left her at least one hundred servants ; and, as 
 sure as you are sitting there, that is what Frederick Baskerville 
 is marrying her for. His property is almost entirely in land, 
 aud he wants servants. May is a fine-looking girl — we are of 
 very good family — and Frederick Baskerville thinks that alto- 
 gether, with the hundred servants, it is, to speak vulgarly, a 
 good speculation." 
 
 Surry : " Can Miss May Beverley suspect this motive ?" 
 
 Mrs. FiTznuGii: "I believe she does, but she knows Fred- 
 erick Baskerville, and can't bear him. It is wicked in my 
 brother to insist upon the marriage upon that trumpery idea 
 that he is bound by his word to the elder Baskerville. As sure 
 as fate, Captain Baskerville — I'd like to know where he got his 
 title — will make May Beverley wretched ; for he is mean, my 
 dear— excuse me — and not what we old people call a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 I need not say that the reasoning of this excellent lady ap- 
 peared to me irresistible. I had never listened to a train of 
 argument which impressed me as more brilliant and conclusive. 
 Perhaps this arose from the fact that our views upon the subject 
 of Captain Baskerville exactly coincided. 
 
 I was indulging these reflections when Miss Henrietta, that mis- 
 chievous young damsel, burst into a ringing laugh, and cried : 
 
 " Aunty ! you don't know how you are delighting Major 
 Surry!" 
 
 "I? How, my dear?" 
 
 " Why, he is in love with cousin May!" 
 
 Surry feels a profound conviction that he is blushing violently. 
 
 " Just look at him ! " exclaimed the young witch ; "he is color- 
 ing like a girl when she is courted." 
 
 I tried to laugh. 
 
 " How do you know how they feel under those circumstances, 
 mademoiselle, at sweet sixteen!"
 
 296 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I know well enough!" replied Miss Henrietta with great 
 candor. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzlmgh had looked up. She now smoothed the heel 
 of the stocking she was knitting upon her knee, and said with 
 perfect quietness : 
 
 " I wish May would marry you, Mr. Surry. Why don't you 
 ask her? Your family is very good — like ours — and we should 
 not have a Baskerville connection." 
 
 To these excessively plain words I could find nothing to reply, 
 and only attempted a laugh. Mis9 Henrietta's gay voice came 
 to my relief, and I rose from table. 
 
 " I am sorry I teased you !" whispered Miss Henrietta. 
 
 " You ought to he." 
 
 " Why don't you take aunt's advice, and court cousin May?" 
 
 u Absurd ; she cares nothing for me." 
 
 Miss Henrietta looked at me intently, and said in a low tone : 
 
 " Must /offer you some advice?" 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 "Ask cousin May," she whispered, "if she doesn't care for 
 you ; and you will then find one reason why she doesn't want to 
 marry Captain Baskerville!" 
 
 There was a whole volume of meaning in the audacious smile, 
 and again I felt that disagreeable sensation in the cheeks which 
 I am informed proceeds from the act of blushing. 
 
 Violet Grafton and Mordaunt, however, entered at this 
 moment, and a diversion took place. There was nothing what- 
 ever in Miss Grafton's countenance to 6how that her conver- 
 sation with Mordaunt had been anything more than that of 
 one friend with another ; her face was perfectly tranquil and 
 happy. 
 
 Mordaunt took his seat by Mrs. Fitzhugh, and they conversed 
 for a quarter of an hour. He then rose, and said he must 
 return to camp. As he bowed and turned away, I heard the old 
 lady say : 
 
 "Violet, my dear, your friend, Mr. Mordaunt, is a very fine 
 gentleman indeed. His family must be very good — like ours." 
 
 I laughed, and, informing Mordaunt that I would accompany
 
 SURROUNDED. 297 
 
 him, buckled on my pistol and sabre — articles which Mordaunt 
 had not laid aside. 
 
 Man proposes, only. At that instant rapid hoof-strokes re- 
 sounded without; Achmed's pistol was fired; and, looking 
 through the door, we saw a whole company of Federal cavalry 
 gallop into the grounds. 
 
 At their head, as they approached through the moonlight, I 
 recognized Fenwick. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 SURROUNDED. 
 
 Not a moment was to be lost, if we intended to attempt to es- 
 cape. The Federal cavalry-men had seized upon our horses, and 
 were now rushing upon the house, in pursuit of the Moor. 
 
 I never saw Mordaunt look more cool ; but, when he recog- 
 nized Fenwick, a livid light suddenly glared in his eyes, and his 
 teeth clinched. 
 
 As Achmed entered, he advanced two steps and heavily 
 barred the door. Then turning to Mrs. Fitzhugh, he said : 
 
 " We are going to defend the house, madam. "Will you retire 
 to the upper rooms with the young ladies?" 
 
 The old lady hastened to obey, followed by Miss Henrietta, 
 who trembled from head to foot. 
 
 Violet Grafton did not stir. The color had faded from her 
 cheeks, but her eyes were brave and proud. 
 
 " Let me stay," she said, in a voice as firm and sweet as it had 
 been an hour before. "I am not afraid." 
 
 Mordaunt took her hand and led her, without speaking, to the 
 staircase in one corner of the apartment. 
 
 Her head fell, a burning color mounted to her cheeks, and 
 she disappeared just as the Federal soldiers threw themselves 
 against the door. 
 
 " Now, Surry," said Mordaunt, with a sort of devil in his eyes, 
 ** I don't know what you are going to do, but I am not going to 
 run from that reptile. I mean to defend this house to the last." 
 13*
 
 298 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " You can count on me." 
 
 " Good — I thought as much, comrade. Achmed is armed, 
 and as brave as steel. Is your pistol loaded ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then we have some fifteen shots. It's odds if we don't 
 hurt somebody — then the sabre !" 
 
 While he spoke, Mordaunt, assisted by Achmed, dragged a 
 heavy table against the door, and I secured the door in rear in 
 the same manner. 
 
 " Open!" cried a threatening voice, accompanied by the heavy 
 blow of a sabre-hilt; " open ! you are my prisoners !" 
 
 " Come and take us !" was Mordaunt's reply as he cocked his 
 pistol. 
 
 " Open, or you are dead ?" 
 
 " Bah ! — we are not children!" 
 
 " Who are you ?" 
 
 "Gentlemen!" 
 
 "Officers?" 
 
 " What matters it ? We are men." 
 
 " In ten minutes you will be dead!" 
 
 " It will take longer than that." 
 
 The reply was a pistol-shot, which pierced the door and struck 
 the opposite wall. 
 
 Directing Achmed to reserve his fire, Mordaunt reached the 
 window, took dead aim, and fired. A groan followed, and the 
 heavy sound of a body falling. 
 
 " One !" he said, quickly securing the shutters. With another 
 movement he extinguished the only light in the apartment. 
 
 He had scarcely done so when a whole volley of bullets passed 
 through the shutters ; and then vigorous hands were heard en- 
 deavoring to tear them open. 
 
 I fired at three paces from the window, and heard a howl 
 from without. 
 
 " Two !" was Mordaunt's cool comment. "Keep against the 
 wall, Surry!" 
 
 The advice was good. A second volley came, tearing both 
 through doors and windows, from front and rear.
 
 SURROUNDED. 299 
 
 '< Open !" howled the voice we had heard before ; " open ! in- 
 fernal guerrillas that you are ! Open, or in ten minutes I will 
 roast you alive!" 
 
 Mordaunt's cool reply was : 
 
 " We have the honor to call your attention to the fact that we 
 are not guerrillas." 
 
 "What are you, then?" 
 
 " I have already informed you. We are gentlemen." 
 
 " What is your design ?" 
 
 " To defend this house, and kill as many of your command as 
 possible." 
 
 " Fire !" was the answer in a voice of rage from without. 
 
 And a volley crashed into the room. 
 
 " Fire again! — tear down the door !" 
 
 Another came ; then heavy shoulders struck against the door. 
 
 "Reserve your fire — it misses, or only wounds," said Hor- 
 daunt, " you will soon need it." 
 
 Suddenly we heard the voice of Fenwick. He spoke in a low 
 tone, but every syllable reached us. 
 
 " Captain," he said, " I know this house well, and I know the 
 man who is defending it. He will stop at nothing, and he has 
 barred the door, so that it cannot be opened. Attack from 
 above, and you will have better luck." 
 
 Mordaunt uttered a low growl, and raised his pistol — but low- 
 ered it again. 
 
 " It is very easy to say attack from above," came in response 
 to Fenwick from without ; " but how the devil am I to do it ?" 
 
 " There is a ladder yonder — and a window at the side of the 
 house. Nothing is easier." 
 
 "Will you mount?" 
 
 There was a moment's silence, interrupted by a sarcastic 
 laugh. 
 
 "That was not the bargain," replied Fenwick, coolly ; "send 
 one of the men." 
 
 "A man there, to mount a ladder," said the captain. 
 
 Mordaunt looked at me and laughed. 
 
 " That's a small affair," he said ; " it will save ammunition to
 
 300 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 send Achmed with his knife. The poor boy is dying to take 
 part." 
 
 In fact, the young Moor had remained erect, silent, and motion- 
 less, but his sparkling black eyes betrayed his desire to engage 
 in the struggle. 
 
 The sound of a ladder dragged along the ground was now 
 heard — then the noise it made in striking against the wall 
 above. 
 
 Mordaunt turned to the young man, and said a few words to 
 him in Arabic, pointing, as he did so, to a long, slender poniaud 
 in Achmed's breast. The boy's face glowed ; he drew the long, 
 bright blade, and disappeared at one bound up the staircase, 
 moving as noiselessly as a tiger. 
 
 "Ready!" came from without ; and then was heard the noise 
 of heavy boots ascending the ladder, accompanied by the clatter 
 of a sabre against the rounds. 
 
 "Now for it!" shouted the voice of the Federal captain. 
 " You are at the window ! Burst it in ! " 
 
 The steps continued to ascend ; the shutters were evidently 
 being torn open ; when, all at once, a frightful cry resounded 
 above, and a heavy body was heard falling along the ladder, and 
 striking violently against the ground. The ladder was then 
 heard to crash down — and the next instant Achmed reappeared, 
 wiping his poniard, which was streaming with blood. 
 
 With a few words in Arabic, he resumed his former place. 
 As he did so, a volley of oaths resounded without, and one of 
 the men said : 
 
 "He's dead, Captain — stabbed through the heart." 
 
 "Three!" said Mordaunt, laughing. 
 
 He had scarcely spoken when a furious rush was made on the 
 front door, amid a wild outburst of yells and imprecations. 
 
 " They will break it down, Surry," said Mordaunt, coolly. 
 
 " So it appears— and then, my dear friend, the affair will be 
 pretty well decided." 
 
 " One thing will be left, Surry." 
 
 " What's that ?" 
 
 "To die game."
 
 SURROUNDED. 301 
 
 As he uttered the words, the door was burst open, and the 
 assailants crowded the opening — their captain at the head. 
 
 For a moment the heavy table checked them — and behind this 
 table stood Mordaunt, pistol in hand, erect and threatening as a 
 destroying angel. 
 
 " Surrender ! " howled the Federal captain, raising his pistol as 
 he spoke. 
 
 Mordaunt did not reply. His arm was extended, as straight 
 as an arrow, across the table — he fired, with the muzzle of his 
 pistol almost touching his adversary's breast — and the Federal 
 captain fell forward, shot through the heart. 
 
 For a single instant the assailants recoiled, and I fired at an 
 officer behind, but missed him. The Moor had already emptied 
 all his barrels, and had drawn his poniard. 
 
 Suddenly the voice of Fenwick was heard exclaiming : 
 
 " Kill the tall man ! — a thousand dollars to the man who kills 
 him!" 
 
 Mordaunt fired his sole remaining barrel, and I knew from his 
 hoarse exclamation that he had not struck Fenwick. 
 
 "Now for the sabre!'' he exclaimed, as the table was hurled 
 back, and a dozen men rushed on him. 
 
 The overthrown table formed a sort of barricade, and across 
 this now took place a desperate struggle. The men behind were 
 afraid to fire, for fear of wounding their companions ; and those 
 in front required all their skill to parry the rapid and mortal 
 blows of Mordaunt, and the deadly strokes of Achmed's poniard. 
 
 To " die game " seemed now all that was left for us. But 
 even at that moment, when certain death seemed staring us in 
 the face, I could not suppress a thrill of admiration for the defi- 
 ant courage of my companion. He fought, thus at bay, amid his 
 crowding adversaries, with the skill and coolness of a swordsman 
 fencing for amusement— and at every stroke with the edge, or 
 lunge with the point, his weapon drew blood. 
 
 But we were rapidly forced back ; shots fired over the heads 
 of the assailants buried themselves in the wall behind; and, 
 Buddenly, the table was broken down and trodden under foot. 
 
 At the same moment Mordaunt staggered.
 
 302 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 ' You are struck ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 *'No — my foot slipped — in the blood!" 
 
 And, clearing a circle with a single whirl of his sabre, he 
 placed his hand against the wall — in his fiery eyes the wrath of 
 a tiger at bay — ready to die, but not to yield. 
 
 At his side was Achmed, calm yet fiery; and this was the 
 condition of affairs when, all at once, amid the clash of the 
 sabres, shots were heard without, and then the rapid sound of 
 hoofs. 
 
 "Charge! and cut down every man!" shouted a voice which 
 seemed familiar ; and in an instant the Federal cavalry were 
 charged by a detachment of gray-coats. 
 
 In front rode Harry Saltoun, and at his side — Violet Grafton ! 
 
 She had escaped from the house during the struggle — hastened 
 on foot to the nearest picket — and led the party back to the 
 house, fearlessly riding upon the saddle of a trooper ! 
 
 In an instant the detachment led by Harry Saltoun were in 
 collision with the Federal soldiers, cutting right and left The 
 blue-coats ran to their horses, and hastily mounted — but, before 
 the whole could do so, a number were shot down or sabred. 
 
 Mordaunt rushed through the doorway and mounted his re- 
 captured horse. 
 
 "Follow me!" rang out in his sonorous voice. 
 
 And, placing himself at the head of the detachment, he charged 
 the retreating enemy, cutting down every man he came opposite. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 THE SINGLE COMBAT. 
 
 "We had followed the enemy for more than half a mile, when, 
 all at once, twenty yards in front, I saw Fenwick. He was 
 mounted upon a splendid bay, and wore a pistol and sabre. 
 
 Mordaunt had already recognized him, and was pursuing him 
 like an avenging Nemesis, apparently forgetful of all else.
 
 THE SINGLE COMBAT. 303 
 
 " At last. !" I heard him say, with a hoarse growl, through his 
 close-set teeth. 
 
 And, without another word, he darted upon his adversary. 
 
 Mordaunt's horse, driven on with bloody spurs, made long and 
 desperate leaps — I saw his rider rise to his full height in the 
 saddle — then his weapon passed to his left shoulder, and I knew 
 that he was about to make, as he came up with his adversary, 
 that terrible "right cut" which I had seen him deliver in bat- 
 tle. 
 
 The thundering stride of his great black brought him opposite 
 Fenwick. I saw his sabre gleam in the moonlight as it whirled 
 — when, suddenly, Fenwick's horse fell, shot through the body 
 by one of the cavalrymen behind, and Mordaunt's blow passed 
 over the rider's head. 
 
 In an instant Fenwick was on his feet, and, as Mordaunt rode 
 at him, fired. The bullet pierced the neck of the black, and he 
 staggered forward — Mordaunt leaping from the saddle as he 
 fell. 
 
 Then he rushed upon Fenwick, and they closed, breast to 
 breast, in a mortal struggle. 
 
 Absorbed by this passionate encounter, I forgot all else, and 
 checked my horse to witness it. 
 
 Fenwick was evidently an excellent swordsman, and I saw that 
 he was brave ; but he was no match for his adversary. Mor- 
 daunt drove him, step by step, across the road, toward a gigantic 
 oak, which stretched its gnarled branches above, in the moon- 
 light — and then, with his back against the trunk, Fenwick could 
 retreat no further. 
 
 The moon shone full upon his face — it was distorted by an ex- 
 pression which might have done honor to the mythologic furies. 
 He struck at Mordaunt with the fury of despair — then the com- 
 bat terminated. 
 
 Rushing upon him, with his sabre at tierce point, Mordaunt 
 drove the keen weapon through his breast, and the point was 
 buried in the tree beyond. 
 
 Fenwick remained erect — stretched out his arms — and his 
 Bword fell from his grasp.
 
 304 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Die!" exclaimed Mordaunt, folding his arras, and speaking 
 in a tone which it is impossible to describe. " But, before your 
 black soul goes before its Judge, reply to me!" 
 
 Fenwick's drooping eyes slowly opened. He looked at his 
 adversary as the bleeding wolf caught in the trap looks at the 
 huntsman — sidewise, with sullen and bloodshot eyes. 
 
 "Why did you make my existence one life-long agony?" said 
 Mordaunt, hoarsely. " What harm had I done you, that you 
 should render me thus wretched ?" 
 
 " I hated you !" came in a savage murmur from Fen wick ; and 
 the blood rushed to his lips, as he glared at his enemy. 
 
 " Why did you hate me ?" 
 
 " Because she loved you." 
 
 Mordaunt's face grew rigid. 
 
 " Enough of that. What brought you here to-night?" 
 
 " To carry off the other." 
 
 "Violet Grafton?" 
 
 " Yes," he gasped. 
 
 " And kill me, if you found me there?" 
 
 " Yes ! hate ! hate ! hate ! eternal hate for you — that — goes 
 with me — I die with that!" — 
 
 And again stretching out his arms, Fenwick fell forward, the 
 sword snapping in his body. 
 
 At this moment, heavy firing came from the front, and 
 rapidly drew near. Saltoun's detachment, which had pursued 
 the enemy, were evidently returning at a gallop, hotly pursued in 
 their turn — and, in a few moments, the scattered horsemen came 
 in sight, with the enemy on their heels. 
 
 As one of our own men fled past us, a bullet pierced his back, 
 and he fell mortally wounded from the saddle. 
 
 I seized the rein of his horse, and threw it to Mordaunt, who 
 got into the saddle. Under his energetic appeals the men 
 rallied in a measure ; but young Harry Saltoun soon appeared, 
 falling back like the rest. 
 
 " It's no go, Colonel I" he exclaimed; " they have more than 
 a regiment, and are pressing me back, in spite of all I can dol 
 Here they are I"
 
 Combat Between Mordaunt and Fenwick.— p. 304.
 
 THE SINGLE COMBAT. 305 
 
 The whole detachment was now seen falling hack in disorder 
 before the enemy. 
 
 " Steady ! shouted Mordaunt. " All right, hoys ! Re-enforce- 
 ments will soon he here!' 1 
 
 And, giving a quick order to Lieutenant Saltoun, who galloped 
 off, Mordaunt took command of the detachment, slowly retiring 
 as the enemy pressed him. 
 
 This movement was effected with masterly nerve and coolness — 
 at every step the enemy were met by skilfully disposed sharp- 
 shooters — and, before Mordaunt had been pressed back half a mile, 
 the force for which Saltoun had gone arrived. It was the remain- 
 der of Mordaunt 1 s regiment; and it had no sooner appeared 
 than he placed himself at the head of it, and charged the 
 Federal column, which proved to be nearly a brigade. 
 
 An obstinate fight followed, in which neither side gained any 
 advantage — and then a desultory firing ensued. Daylight ap- 
 proached. 
 
 Mordaunt and myself had ridden forward to make a recon- 
 noissance with Harry Saltoun, when suddenly the young man 
 was seen to reel in his saddle, and if I had not passed my arm 
 around him he would have fallen. 
 
 "What's the matter? 11 I said, as he raised his head. 
 
 " I was shot yonder, 11 he replied, trying to smile as he spoke, 
 " in the charge at the house ! It is nothing " — 
 
 And he fainted. 
 
 The bullet had passed through the same arm which had been 
 wounded on the Rapidan, inflicting a painful injury. The sleeve 
 and gauntlet of the young man were drenched in blood ; but lie 
 had said nothing, followed the enemy, ridden, and brought re-en- 
 forcements, and then charged at the head of his company. " It 
 was nothing 1 * — ■ but he had fainted at last. 
 
 He was placed upon a litter, and sent back to Elm Cottage, 
 with a note from Mordaunt to Violet Grafton. 
 
 Afterward I knew that, in sending the youth there, Mordaunt 
 had a double motive, and performed one of those actions which 
 only great souls are equal to. But one of the worst faults of a 
 writer is to anticipate.
 
 306 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 At daylight the enemy retired, and Mordaunt immediately 
 pressed forward. 
 
 As we passed the gigantic oak where the bloody combat be- 
 tween Mordaunt and his enemy had taken place, I looked for the 
 body of Fenwick. 
 
 It was not visible. The enemy had no doubt carried it off 
 with the rest of their dead, except those at Elm Cottage. 
 
 I looked at Mordaunt's face. In the dark eyes was the fierce 
 glare of the tiger who has just torn his prey limb from limb. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 IN WHICH THE WRITER OMITS A DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 SECOND BATTLE OF MANASSAS. 
 
 Jackson moved again at dawn. So perfect had been the 
 cordon of cavalry pickets and scouting parties between the 
 Southern column and the enemy, that the march was still entire- 
 ly undiscovered; and reaching Thoroughfare Gap, a few miles 
 west of Manassas, Jackson found it entirely undefended. 
 
 Passing through the frowning ramparts of the gorge, he de- 
 scended upon the great Federal depot at Manassas. 
 
 He was now completely in General Pope's rear, and directly 
 upon his communications with Washington. The great object 
 of the expedition was to destroy the stores at Manassas, defeat 
 General Pope's attempt to rescue them, and lastly, hold him in 
 check until General Lee arrived with Longstreet's corps. Then, 
 a pitched battle. 
 
 Jackson made his dispositions rapidly, and with consummate 
 skill. 
 
 Ewell was sent toward Bristoe, a station on the Orange road, 
 about four miles from Manassas, and Stuart then proceeded with 
 his cavalry and Trimble's brigade, in advance to Manassas. The 
 attack was made about daylight, and the troops rushed iu, under 
 a hot fire, and were soon in possession of the place. 
 
 About seven in the morning, General Taylor's Federal bri- 
 gade, which had been hurried forward from Washington, crossed
 
 A DESCRIPTION OMITTED. 307 
 
 at Blackburn's Ford, and made an obstinate attack — but it was 
 too late. Stuart was in tbe works, and no sooner bad tbe 
 Federal infantry appeared than be opened a sudden and deter- 
 mined artillery fire, wbich completely drove them back. They 
 were pursued by Captain Pelham, with his horse artillery, and 
 driven in the direction of Alexandria. 
 
 This attack had scarcely been repulsed when Ewell received 
 the assault of General Pope, at Bristoe, meeting it with his cus- 
 tomary obstinacy. When notified by Jackson that Manassas was 
 destroyed, he slowly fell back, burning the bridge in his rear; 
 and the various columns converged toward the little village of 
 Groveton, near the old battle-field of July 21, 1861, where, with 
 his back to Sudley Ford, Jackson awaited the enemy. 
 
 The scenes at Manassas, when the troops marched in, were 
 singular. Enormous stores of every description greeted the eyes 
 of the men, in the government depots and sutlers' shanties, and 
 these were seized upon by the starving troops with avidity. I 
 saw famished men, barefooted and in rags, eating lobster salad 
 and drinking Rhine wine. 
 
 When Jackson turned his back upon Manassas, nothing was 
 left but a mass of smoking ruins, from which a few straggling 
 cavalrymen disappeared, slowly retiring before the advance of 
 Pope. 
 
 By the destruction of these great stores, and the railroad to- 
 ward Alexandria, which was accomplished by Fitz Lee, General 
 Pope was left without supplies for men or horses. At one blow 
 Jackson had wounded him mortally. If the Confederate com- 
 mander could only hold his ground now until Lee arrived, a de- 
 termined attack upon the starved men and animals of his adver- 
 sary must end in his complete defeat. 
 
 Jackson made desperate efforts to hold his ground. His force 
 was under twenty thousand men, and General Pope had his 
 whole " Army of Virginia" in close vicinity, pouring forward to 
 crush the audacious destroyer of his stores. 
 
 Jackson did not wait to be assailed. He attacked — and a 
 bloody engagement continued until after night. 
 
 Meanwhile, Longstreet was rapidly advancing. Every hour
 
 308 
 
 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST, 
 
 now counted. Jackson would be attacked on the next morning 
 by the whole Federal army. He seemed to have made up his 
 mind to stand at bay, and fight whatever force assailed him— 
 leaving the rest to Providence. 
 
 It was after night when a courier, who had ridden by a bridlo 
 path over the mountain, reached Groveton, and announced that 
 General Lee was near the Gap, and rapidly advancing. "When 
 Jackson received this intelligence he drew a long breath, his 
 brow cleared, and he rose erect in his saddle, as if a heavy weight 
 was raised from his shoulders. 
 
 Soon the thunder of Longstreet's guns was heard reverberating 
 from the gorge of Thoroughfare Gap, and the enemy's force 
 there made a furious response, completely raking the narrow 
 pass with shell and canister. 
 
 It was not long, however, before the Federal artillery was 
 withdrawn at a gallop ; Longstreet's men rushed through ; and, 
 as the sun rose, the long glittering lines of bayonets were seen 
 steadily advancing to take position on Jackson's right. 
 
 The line of battle thus formed was an open V, with Groveton 
 in the angle. Jackson's line — the left wing — was in front of 
 Sudley Ford ; Longstreet's — the right wing — running across the 
 Warrenton turnpike. Where the two lines joined, a crest bristled 
 with artillery to repulse the attempt which woidd probably be 
 made to burst through, and thus pierce the Confederate centre. 
 
 My readers must go to the histories for an account of the great 
 " Second Battle of Manassas." I cannot enter upon that vast, 
 desperate, and long-continued combat. The action will always 
 possess a weird interest, from having been fought upon the iden- 
 tical ground of the first battle — except that the adversaries had 
 changed positions. It was the Federal forces which now attacked 
 from the direction of Manassas, and Jackson who stood with his 
 back to Sudley Ford. 
 
 See the histories. The writer of memoirs deals in colors, inci- 
 dents, and " trifles " — not in the great public events about which 
 so much is said in " official documents." He would make a fine 
 "battle-piece" of the great second battle of Manassas, were it 
 necessary ; paint the blue and gray lines reeling to and fro ; the
 
 THE YOUNG SIGN AL-OFFICEPw. 309 
 
 artillery " sweeping like a whirlwind of shot and shell" throngh 
 the opposing ranks ; and, after reading his " animated descrip- 
 tion,' 1 the reader should find himself in that pleasing condition 
 of mind when the memory retains only a hlurred and confused 
 idea of dust, smoke, uproar, hlood — dead men and horses, breasts 
 riddled with bullets, color-bearers grasping their flags with forms 
 torn in two by round-shot — bodies deficient in legs, deficient in 
 heads, deficient in arms — groans, yells, shouts, cheers: and then 
 a " glorious victory." A glorious victory is no doubt a glorious 
 thing; but it is a brutal and bloody affair — this war-makings- 
 under the glory and the laurels. 
 
 When the sun set on the third day's fight, the conflict was 
 over. Pope was defeated, and in full retreat toward Washing- 
 ton ; the Federal Capital was in imminent danger ; and General 
 McClellan, in command of the reserve retained for its defence, 
 wrote, "This week is the crisis of our fate." 
 
 Such were the magnificent results accomplished by the great 
 flank movement of Jackson. That march and what it effected 
 will always remain one of the most remarkable episodes of mili- 
 tary history, and rank with the proudest glories of the great 
 commander. 
 
 There seemed to be something like retributive justice in the 
 result. General Pope had permitted, if not authorized, the most 
 flagrant oppression of the poor non-coml»atants of the country he 
 had occupied, declaring that he had never seen any thing of his 
 enemies but their backs. 
 
 Now he saw the face of "Jackson's men " — and his star weDt 
 down in blood. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 THE YOUNG SIGNAL-OFFICER. 
 
 On the day succeeding this desperate conflict, Jackson, whose 
 Bo.umn was pressing toward Centreville, directed me to find 
 Stuart, and accompany him in a movement which he was making 
 to the rear of the enemy. I was to ascertain the state of things
 
 310 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 in that direction, and return as soon as possible with confidential 
 intelligence from Stuart. 
 
 My route led me by the Stone House, which my readers cannot 
 have forgotten ; and I soon came in sight of it. The place was 
 a mass of ruins. The walls had been shattered and overthrown 
 by cannon-balls, the garden torn to pieces in the hot struggle ; 
 and, reining in my horse, I could scarcely make out the stunted 
 tree under which the unfortunate lady in white had been buried. 
 The mansion was a melancholy ruin, charred and blackened — 
 It seemed to typify the life of the woman who had returned to 
 this place, the scene of her former happiness, to sleep the sleep 
 of death. 
 
 Had Mordaunt passed near that spot? I asked myself as I 
 rode on ; and then a thousand thoughts chased each other through 
 my mind. How singular were the circumstances which had put 
 me in possession of this strange man's history ! How sad that 
 record ! How surprising had been the combination of events 
 which threw him face to face, on that gloomy night, in this 
 weird spot, with the living image of the woman whom he had 
 loved! I could understand the profound emotion which had 
 mastered the strong man, at seeing thus, as it were, the very 
 face and eyes and hair of Frances Oarleton once more there be- 
 fore him, where she had smiled long years before — and under- 
 stand too the poignant anguish which wrung his heart, when all 
 his fancied wrongs and shame were thus brought back to mind, 
 and traced, as it were, with a pen of flame upon his heart. And 
 then a deeper admiration than before for this proud spirit inspired 
 me — for this man who, burying his grief and distress and bitter 
 anguish, had borne up so bravely, and served his country with a 
 courage and devotion so conspicuous and splendid- 
 Stuart had pressed on rapidly, and, before I had joined him, I 
 heard the thunder of his horse artillery as he attacked the 
 Federal forces near Fairfax Court- House. Pushing on, I reached 
 the spot, and found the General superintending the fire of the 
 guns, which were commanded by young Pelham, now his chief 
 of artillery. 
 
 "All goes well, Surry," said the General, when I had delivered
 
 THE YOUNG SIGNAL-OFFICER. 311 
 
 my message. " I am crowding 'em with artillery ;* and, if 
 Stonewall doesn't hurry up, there will be nothing for him to do." 
 
 " He is coming right on, General." 
 
 "And you have pushed on to 'jine the cavalry'! Well, we 
 have had a little affair near Chantilly — captured a whole com- 
 pany of Yankee cavalry. Look! there is the captain!" 
 
 And he pointed to an officer mounted upon a magnificent black 
 horse, carrying before him on the pommel of his saddle a bril- 
 liant stars-and-stripes flag.t 
 
 I looked at the officer and thought I recognized him, but 
 could not remember where I had seen him. A second glance 
 recalled the time and place. It was the humorous personage 
 who had captured me near Cross Keys, and sent me to Sir Percy 
 Wyndham with the laughing order to my guard to kill me if I 
 attempted to escape. 
 
 " "We recaptured poor Hardeman Stuart's coat, too," added the 
 General, with a sad expression in his bold face. " You remem- 
 ber him, do you not — my signal-officer?" 
 
 "Remember him?" I said; "he is one of the best friends I 
 have on your staff, General. It is impossible not to love his gay, 
 frank face, with its blue eyes and chestnut curls. I saw him 
 just before the battle opened." 
 
 " Ah ?" said Stuart, with the same half sigh.. 
 
 " Yes," was my reply. " I was riding over to thi right, when 
 a dusty figure, without hat or coat, ran out from a house and 
 hailed me. I could scarcely recognize Hardeman, who is the 
 model of elegance, you know, in uniform and appearance. He 
 called out, ' How d'ye, Major !'— shook hands with me— and 
 then told me, laughing, that he had been attacked on the moun- 
 tain yonder, at his signal-station, and had lost his horse and 
 coat. He said he intended to get another horse and rejoin you." 
 
 " Poor boy!" sighed Stuart ; " he could not mount himself, and 
 he was too brave and devoted to remain idle. He got a musket, 
 fought with his old company from Mississippi, and was killed.'' 
 
 I felt deeply shocked at this intelligence. Hardeman Stuart 
 
 * Stuart's expression. t ReaL
 
 312 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 had been one of my greatest favorites, and I loved him, as every- 
 body did, for his sweet, frank temper and his gallant spirit. 
 
 " Hardeman dead?" I said. " It is not possible, General!" 
 
 "It is true, and the singular thing is that we have just recap- 
 tured his new uniform coat." 
 
 "His coat?" 
 
 •' Yes, it was strapped to his saddle, and captured with his 
 horse. This Yankee company of cavalry, surprised at Ohautilly 
 had it.* There it is." 
 
 And he pointed to the coat strapped behind a courier. 
 
 "Poor, poor Hardeman ! But he was buried?" 
 
 " Yes. Major Yon Borcke saw his grave. But we are getting 
 sad. Come, Surry, I am going to withdraw, and, as I expect in- 
 formation during the night, you had better remain until morn- 
 ing. Come with me, and I will provide you with lodgings." 
 
 " Willingly." 
 
 And I followed the General, who retired just at nightfall. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 ONE OP STUART'S "TIGHT PLACES." 
 
 The cavalry soon halted, and lay down in bivouac. 
 
 Stuart rode on with his staff through the black darkness; 
 and the sad story which he had just told me gradually disap- 
 peared from his mind. This strong and exuberant nature could 
 not long remain gloomy. 
 
 Half an hour's ride brought us to a house near Frying-Pan 
 Church, where we halted, and were received with the warmest 
 hospitality by some young ladies, who seemed overjoyed at sight 
 of our gray coats, and the General, who was evidently an ac- 
 quaintance and favorite. If you recall that evening, fair and 
 charming " friends of the soldier," and this page meets your eye, 
 receive the assurance of the unchanging regard and admiration 
 
 * A real incident.
 
 ONE OF STUART'S "TIGHT PLACES." 313 
 
 of one person who that night basked in the warm light of your 
 smiles. 
 
 If I were writing a romance, worthy reader, instead of my 
 veritable memoirs, what a favorable opportunity would now be 
 presented to make Stuart the hero of a "thrilling adventure!" 
 Contemplate the situation, and observe its dramatic capabilities ! 
 Stuart, the bold cavalier, asleep in a remote mansion near tho 
 enemy, far beyond his own pickets, without a single vedette out, 
 and liable to be " caught napping " as at Verdiersville. What 
 would be easier than to bring a whole Federal regiment of 
 cavalry down on the gay cavalier, and narrate in the most ap- 
 proved and striking style the manner in which he engaged them 
 single-handed, and overcame them all ! If necessary, Colonel 
 Mordaunt or General Fitz Lee might come to his assistance — 
 the ghost of Fenwick might appear — and indeed almost any 
 thing might be made to happen ! 
 
 The present writer is much too conscientious, however, to in- 
 dulge in such ''weak inventions." No such incidents occurred, 
 therefore they cannot be narrated. Stern devotion to truth 
 compels me to say that, in spite of the fact that we had not a 
 single vedette posted to give warning of an enemy's approach 
 the night passed away in perfect quiet ; the dawn appeared, and 
 with it our fair hostesses, who gave us an excellent breakfast, 
 and bade us God speed. 
 
 Do not the prayers of women shield us often ? I think so. 
 They prayed with all their hearts in the late revolution, and 
 were angels to us all. The soldiers of the army and the women 
 did their duty ; had the rest done likewise, we might have been 
 the founders of an empire ! 
 
 So we left our smiling hostess and her friends, and again set 
 out toward Chantilly. 
 
 Jackson's column was already pressing forward, and when I 
 joined him he was sitting upon the ground, with his back against 
 a tree, his chin upon his breast, his hands crossed over his 
 bosom, fast asleep. The enemy's sharpshooters were firing 
 rapidly near by, but he slept tranquilly.* 
 
 • Historical. 
 14
 
 314 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 An hour or two afterward he had pressed on and attacked 
 the enemy near Germantown, on the Oxliill road. 
 
 There, the beaten army of General Pope, with reserves from 
 Washington under Generals Franklin, Stevens, and Kearney, 
 made a last stand, and fought with desperation to effect their 
 retreat. 
 
 The opposing lines were soon engaged, and to the roar of mus- 
 ketry and cannon was suddenly added that of a violent storm. 
 The thunder drowned the noise of the guns, and the drenching 
 rain which poured down threatened to put an end to the action. 
 Jackson was calmly watching the contest, when a courier from 
 one of his Generals came up and brought a message to the effect 
 that the rain had made the powder wet, and his command could 
 not continue the engagement. 
 
 "Tell him to hold his ground," was Jackson's reply. "If it 
 makes his powder useless, it will make the enemy's too !"* 
 
 The result of the action was completely in favor of the 
 Southern arms, but I did not witness the latter portion of it. I 
 had been sent again to Stuart, who was moving around toward 
 Flint Hill, an eminence north of the Oourt-House, to occupy it 
 with artillery, and attack the enemy in flank. 
 
 I joined Stuart just as he reached a narrow road leading up 
 the hill. It was growing dark, and the storm was roaring down ; 
 but the General did not give up his design. Leaving one regi- 
 ment at the mouth of the road to protect his rear, he advanced 
 with another, and had soon reached the elevated ground above. 
 
 Here the brave Colonel Wickham rode back from the advance- 
 guard, which he commanded, and said : 
 
 " General, I got near the Cross Roads, and find them heavily 
 picketed with infantry." 
 
 Stuart reflected a moment, and then calling " Captain Farley," 
 whom the reader may remember at Cold Harbor, gave him a 
 message to General Lee. 
 
 Farley immediately rode back, and in a few minutes shots were 
 heard in that quarter. At the same moment Colonel Wickham 
 again rode up, and reported the enemy rapidly advancing in front. 
 
 * His words.
 
 ONE OF STUART'S "TIGHT PLACES." 315 
 
 Stuart's position was now critical. lie was in tlie midst of 
 the enemy's infantry, which hemmed him in in front and on his 
 right; night had descended, making any cavalry movement 
 hazardous ; and there was but one avenue of retreat, the narrow 
 road by which the column had ascended the hill. Now the 
 firing had come from that direction. The enemy appeared to 
 have closed in upon front and rear. 
 
 I afterward remembered, with admiration, the coolness and 
 nonchalance of Stuart. He sat with one leg thrown across the 
 pommel of his saddle, drummed idly with his fingers upon his 
 knee, and seemed to be reflecting. It is impossible to imagine 
 greater sang-froid than his appearance, at the moment, indicated.* 
 
 " Well," he said, at length, " I have accomplished the object I 
 had in view, and we'll go back." 
 
 But the march back was in column of platoons, with drawn 
 sabres ! 
 
 Halfway down the narrow road, now as black as night, firing 
 came from the advance-guard, and then a shont. The column 
 pushed on — shots hissed from the high banks on either side — 
 then the column debouched into the plain. 
 
 "What was our astonishment at this moment to hear a bugle 
 tn front sound the " charge!" 
 
 Colonel Lee, commanding the regiment left behind, took us for 
 Federal cavalry, it seemed, and nothing but the presence of 
 mind of an officer, who shouted "Hold!" prevented a bloody 
 catastrophe. 
 
 The firing we had heard was directed at Captain Farley, who 
 was also in great danger from his friends. 
 
 So much for night operations with cavalry. They are always 
 hazardous. I have recorded this little incident, however, as 
 characteristic of Stuart's coolness and self-possession. 
 
 I said to him, long afterward : 
 
 " General, you did not seem to think your command in any 
 danger that night at Flint Hill. I thought it in great dan- 
 ger." 
 
 * This whole sketch is historical.
 
 316 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "You are right," was his reply, in alow tone, with a short 
 laugh. "I tell you, Surry, that was a tight place!" * 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH THE WRITER GETS OVER A GREAT DEAL OP 
 
 GROUND. 
 
 At nightfall Jackson had driven the enemy before him, with 
 heavy loss, including two of their best officers — Generals Kearney 
 and Stevens ; and at dawn on the next morning the troops 
 advanced upon Fairfax Oourt-House. 
 
 The enemy had retreated during the night, and the inhabitants 
 received their deliverers with shouts of joy. 
 
 Thus the work was ended for the present upon the soil of Vir- 
 ginia ; and General Lee immediately put his army in motion for 
 Maryland. 
 
 Four or five days afterward, the Southern column forded the 
 Potomac near Leesburg, with the bands playing " Maryland, my 
 Maryland," and the advance force pushed on and occupied Fred- 
 erick City. 
 
 Maryland did not receive us with arms very wide open ; and 
 few, very few, ranged themselves under the " bonnie blue flag." 
 But let not that old bitterness make me unjust. It was the 
 Union portion of the State which we entered. In the lower 
 counties and on the Eastern Shore there was a different popula- 
 tion : there they were friends, here they were — neutrals or 
 enemies. 
 
 For the Maryland campaign in all its details, see the histories. 
 Here is an outline : 
 
 From Frederick City, Jackson was sent to make a detour, by 
 way of Williamsport and Martinsburg, to the rear of Harper's 
 Ferry, where there were about eleven thousand Federal troops 
 and a large amount of artillery. The result is known. While 
 General Lee was opposing the advance of McOlellan at South 
 
 *His words.
 
 SHARPSBURG. 317 
 
 Mountain, Jackson was closely investing Harper's Ferry. When 
 he had ringed it round with artillery and opened upon it from 
 every side, the Federal commander lost heart, and surrendered 
 his eleven thousand men and seventy-three guns. 
 ■ As the place fell, McClellan hurst through to its relief. But it 
 was too late. Jackson's heavy arm had fallen. The place was 
 in his hands, and, leaving a portion of Lis force to hold it, ho 
 returned by a forced march to Sharpsburg, where General Lee 
 had concentrated his whole available force to fight McClellan. 
 
 You know, my dear reader, what followed. Thirty-three thou- 
 sand Southerners fought eighty-seven thousand there at Sharps- 
 burg, on a September day, and repulsed, from morn to even- 
 ing, every assault. These figures are General Lee's for his own 
 force— General McClellan's for that of the Federals. Thus the 
 Confederates fought nearly three to one at Sharpsburg. 
 
 Jackson, on our left, sustained the brunt of the attack. See 
 General McClellan's report, where he says his great assault was 
 with his right wing. Had he given way, the result would have 
 been well nigh fatal. As it was, he drove General Hooker half a 
 mile, and at night w r as rooted immovably in his first position. 
 
 Lee remained in line of battle on the ensuing day, facing his 
 great adversary. General McClellan says that the condition of 
 his own army rendered a renewal of the battle impossible. 
 
 On the next morning General Lee recrossed the Potomac, and, 
 crowning the heights with his artillery, challenged them to at- 
 tempt to cross. The attempt was made, and in an hour the 
 column was driven into and across the river again, with the 
 bayonet. 
 
 That was the first and last attempt which was made to follow 
 General Lee. 
 
 He collected his straggling and broken-down men, rested and 
 provisioned his army, and, if the season had been June instead 
 of October, would have advanced upon Pennsylvania. 
 
 As it was, he rested.
 
 318 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 xc. 
 
 HAMPTON CHARGES, AND I "GO UNDER." 
 
 I did not witness the greater portion of the events just narrated 
 in brief outline, and for a reason which I will now proceed to give. 
 
 At the moment when Jackson's column approached Williams- 
 port, on his march to Harper's Ferry, I was sent back to General 
 Lee, then beyond the South Mountain, with a message. 
 
 I found the army in motion by way of Boonsboro', in the direc- 
 tion of Hagerstown, and was informed that General Lee was 
 with the cavalry rear-guard, then retiring from Frederick City. 
 before the advance of General McClellan. 
 
 A ride through the Boonsboro' Gap and Catoctin Mountain 
 brought me to the cavalry, and I delivered my message to Gen- 
 eral Lee, which fortunately required no reply. 
 
 Fortunately, I say, for I now found that my horse was com- 
 pletely broken down, and wholly unfit to take me back at once 
 over the difficult mountain road. 
 
 I accordingly looked about for an inviting farm-house, the 
 abode of some good Marylander with Southern proclivities, where 
 I could procure a feed, and soon discovered a promising-looking 
 mansion. It was a fine old house, embowered in trees, on the 
 eastern slope of the Catoctin Mountain ; and the ample barns 
 seemed to say, " Come, there is plenty here, and to spare." 
 Without further hesitation I rode up to the wide gate, entered 
 a broad avenue, and soon found myself in front of a large por- 
 tico, upon which a hale old gentleman was standing. 
 
 My wants were made known, and I met with the most friendly 
 reception. 
 
 " Your horse shall be attended to immediately, sir," was the 
 smiling and hospitable reply. " Come in — come in. These are 
 terrible times, sir — and you must be hungry, too." 
 
 My host then called lustily for a servant, who speedily appear- 
 ed, gave him directions in reference to my horse, and then led 
 the way into the house, where an inviting meal was soon spread
 
 HAMPTON CHARGES. 319 
 
 by the hands of an old housekeeper. This elderly lady and my 
 host seemed the only inmates of the mansion. 
 
 "Terrible times, terrible times," repeated my host. "The 
 enemy seem to be coming right on. General Lee is falling back, 
 is he not?" 
 
 I never liked to answer questions propounded by strangers — 
 that should be one of the first principles of a soldier, and much 
 more of a staff officer. 
 
 " The army is not far from this spot," I replied. 
 
 The old gentleman smiled. 
 
 " I see you are prudent," he said ; " but your caution is quite 
 unnecessary. I am a Southerner, heart and soul, and have a son 
 in your army." 
 
 " I may know him, and be able to give you some news of him, 
 sir." 
 
 " It would greatly delight me. I fear something has happened to 
 him, as he has not been here with the army. My name is Saltoun !" 
 
 "Indeed! And is your son's name Harry, Mr. Saltoun?" 
 
 " Yes, sir — where is he ?" asked the old gentleman, with acute 
 anxiety. "You have no bad news to give me ?" — 
 
 " No, no. He is wounded, but it is a trifle. He is in the 
 hands of friends." 
 
 And, giving my name and position in the army, I informed Mr. 
 Saltoun of the young man's wound and present whereabouts. He 
 listened with anxious interest, and, when I had finished, exclaimed : 
 
 "Thank God that he is safe." 
 
 " He is perfectly so." 
 
 " These are awful times, Major," added my good host. " Awful 
 times ! We never know whether our sons are alive or dead. 
 Harry is the light of my eyes — all I have left in my old age — and 
 it would break me down if he was killed. So you know him 
 well, and say he is brave — but I knew that. He was always 
 fearless from his childhood ; and when the war broke out I could 
 not keep him at home. Do you expect to see him soon ?" 
 
 I replied that I doubtless should meet him again in a few weeks, 
 on his return to his command—whereupon the old gentleman asked 
 if I could carry him his watch, which he had left behind him.
 
 320 SURRY OF EAGLE 'S-NEST. 
 
 " He values it greatly," added Mr. Saltoun ; " and, if you will 
 take charge of it, he will be greatly obliged to you." 
 
 " I will do so with great pleasure, and tell him that you are 
 well"— 
 
 " And wish to see him soon," added the old gentleman, heartily. 
 '" This is a terrible war — a very terrible war, indeed, sir!" 
 
 And the speaker shook his head in a most expressive manner, 
 and, rising, unlocked a mahogany secretary, from which he took 
 a handsome gold watch, set with jewels. 
 
 This ho intrusted to me, with many cautions against losing it. 
 
 " Harry would not mind the mere value of the watch, sir," 
 he said, " nor would I. But he has had this since his boyhood, 
 and attaches a peculiar value to it." 
 
 I had just assured my kind host that I would take especial 
 care of the watch, when firing was heard in front, and I rose. 
 My horse was soon brought, and I had scarcely bidden my host 
 good-by, and mounted, when a long column of cavalry was seen 
 to defile by the outer gate, in the direction of Frederick City, 
 and at their head I recognized General Wade Hampton. 
 
 I rode out and joined him. For this brave cavalier of South 
 Carolina I had always experienced a very great respect and re- 
 gard, since the noble stand which he made at the first battle of 
 Manassas; and I had enjoyed the satisfaction of receiving from 
 him evidences of friendship in return. He had changed little. 
 Before me was the same erect and courteous cavalier, with his 
 flowing black mustache, and mild yet brilliant eyes. In his 
 simple bearing, full of suavity and repose, you read no indica- 
 tions of the hard and stubborn spirit of " fight " which, in every 
 encounter, took him to the front, and made him charge, like a 
 private soldier, and "come to the sabre." 
 
 I was soon informed of the state of affairs. General Lee was 
 retiring, and General McClellan pressing on. The enemy were 
 already in Frederick City, and their artillery had opened -upon 
 the cavalry toward the Catoctin Mountain. 
 
 "I am going to charge and capture it, Major," said General 
 Hampton. " Will you see the charge?" 
 
 " I would not miss it, General."
 
 HAMPTON CHARGES. 321 
 
 And we continued to advance, the enemy's artillery roaring 
 sullenly in front. 
 
 All at once, as the head of the column reached the summit of a 
 hill, Frederick City appeared in front, the fields around swarming 
 with the dark figures of the Federal soldiers. 
 
 Above the mass rose the white smoke of the artillery, which 
 was pouring a heavy fire upon the Southern rear-guard, falling 
 back before the furious attacks of the Federal cavalry. 
 
 Hampton turned and said a few words to the officer command- 
 ing his column. He was a young man of twenty-three or four, 
 with sparkling black eyes, raven hair and mustache, and a bear- 
 ing which showed him every inch the soldier. " Do or die " spoke 
 in the flashing eye, the laughing lip, and the firm clutch of the 
 sabre. Such was the gay and gallant Georgian, P. M. B. Young, 
 whose charge at Fleetwood afterward saved the fortunes of that 
 desperate day, and covered the young cavalier all over with glory. 
 
 "Colonel Young," said Hampton, "I am going to charge 
 those guns at once." 
 
 "Ready, sir!" was the answer; and, turning to his men, 
 Young ordered : 
 
 " Form fours ! draw sabre!" 
 
 The column was ready — and, sword in hand, General Hampton 
 placed himself at its head. 
 
 The admirable serenity of his countenance had not altered in 
 the least degree. Under that courteous and tranquil glance was 
 the stubborn will which would not bend. 
 
 A moment's pause ; a few rapid orders ; a quick clash of steel, 
 as hundreds of sabres flashed from their scabbards, and then, at 
 a steady trot, which, in a few minutes, became a headlong gallop, 
 the column rushed to the charge. 
 
 The weight of the column, with Hampton leading, swept away 
 the Federal cavalry in front, as leaves are swept by the wind ; 
 and then, amid loud shouts and the incessant crack of carbines, 
 the Southern horsemen closed in upon the very muzzles of the 
 artillery. 
 
 The sudden and desperate charge carried all before it. The 
 men received without faltering the storm of canister hurled in 
 14*
 
 322 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 their faces, rushed upon the guns, and in an instant they had 
 cut down or dispersed the cannoneers serving them.* 
 
 The artillery was captured, but in the charge all the horses 
 had been killed, and it could not bo brought off. Nor could the 
 Confederate column hold its ground. The Federal infantry was 
 seen double-quicking across the fields, and Hampton was com- 
 pelled to relinquish his prize and fall slowly back. 
 
 As he did so, a hot fire was opened upon him by the Federal in- 
 fantry, and then came the close and menacing roar of their artil- 
 lery, and the crash of bursting shell in the midst of the column. 
 
 Nothing is more disagreeable than to " fall back under fire." 
 The hurry, uproar, and shouts of the pursuers are thoroughly 
 disgusting. The enemy now pressed on, and the air was full of 
 balls and bursting shell. Suddenly I was deafened by a crash 
 like a falling mountain, within a few feet of me, and my horse, 
 with one agonized leap into the air, fell writhing in the death 
 agony. A shell had burst almost on him — a huge fragment torn 
 through his body, just behind the saddle — the animal lay upon 
 the road, a mangled and bleeding mass, struggling in death. 
 
 All this I saw only some moments afterward. I was thrown, 
 violently stunned for the time, and, when I rose, found myself in 
 the hands of the Federal soldiers, who greeted my unlucky 
 plight, as they still pressed on, with jests and laughter. 
 
 A guard conducted me back to Frederick City, where I was 
 taken before the provost-marshal, and my name and rank re- 
 corded. I was then locked up in a filthy den, with many other 
 Confederates, and, weary with my long ride, lay down on the 
 bare floor and fell asleep. 
 
 A hand on my shoulder waked me. I looked up — the light 
 of sunset shone on the wall. 
 
 " Are you Major Surry?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You are wanted." 
 
 And my guard opened the door, and led the way out of the pri- 
 son. Five minutes walk brought us to a handsome house, which I 
 
 * Historical.
 
 GENERAL McCLELLAN. 823 
 
 knew, from the horses hefore the door and the number of persons 
 who came and went, was the head-quarters of some general. A 
 moment afterward I was in the presence of General McClellan. 
 
 XCI 
 
 I EXCHANGE VIEWS WITH GENERAL McCLELLAN. 
 
 The commander of the Federal Army was entirely alone, in a 
 private room. When I was announced, he rose from a table at 
 which he had been writing, and bowed. 
 
 He was a man of thirty-five or forty, of medium height, with 
 a well-knit frame, and the erect carriage of the West-Pointer. 
 His countenance was pleasant and attractive, with its frank eyes, 
 smiling lips, over which fell a brown mustache, and broad, open 
 brow. General McClellan was evidently a gentleman by birth 
 and breeding. His smile was cordial, his bearing easy and 
 natural — his whole appearance calculated to win confidence. 
 
 "Major Surry, I believe," he said, and I bowed. 
 
 " Take a seat, Major. I heard of your capture, and that you 
 belong to General Jackson's staff. He is an old West-Point 
 friend of mine, and a very great man, too — how is he ?" 
 
 '• Perfectly well, General." 
 
 " And on his way to Harper's Perry, I suppose." 
 
 The General laughed as he spoke, and seemed to enjoy my 
 look of surprise. 
 
 "What an idea, General !" 
 
 "And Longstreet," continued General McClellan, "he is an 
 old acquaintance of mine, too. He has gone toHagerstown?" 
 
 I bit my lips. Where did the Federal commander procure 
 this information ? 
 
 " Let me see," he continued, with the air of a man who is 
 making a calculation. " Jackson ought to be beyond Williams- 
 port by this time — Longstreet near Hagerstown, and Walker in 
 position on Loudoun Heights. If McLaws is a pushing man, he
 
 324 SUEEY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 is in possession of Maryland Heights — and Stuart holds Boons- 
 boro' and Crampton's Gap, to keep me off of Harper's Ferry 
 until it falls." 
 
 I listened with a sort of stupefaction. General McOlellan 
 was describing, with perfect accuracy and entire nonchalance, 
 General Lee's entire programme, as set forth in confidential 
 orders to his corps commanders. The enemy knew all. 
 
 " You do not reply, Major," said General McOlellan. 
 
 "It is not my affair," I replied, with a gloom and sullenness 
 which I could not control. 
 
 " But is my information accurate ?" 
 
 "Ask some one else, sir!" 
 
 General McOlellan dropped his tone of banter, and said 
 courteously : 
 
 " I do not desire to extract any information from you, Major, 
 and it would be useless. The carelessness of one of your gene- 
 rals has put me in possession of General Lee's entire plan of 
 campaign, and I play the game from this moment with a full 
 knowledge of my adversary's designs. Look, Major." 
 
 And, taking from the table a paper, he handed it to me. 
 
 It was General Lee's confidential order of march for the 
 different columns of his army! The copy of the order was 
 directed to General D. II. Hill, and had been left by him, or 
 some one of his command, at Frederick City."* 
 
 "It is useless to deny the authenticity of this paper, General," 
 I said, after glancing at it, "and it gives you a fatal advantage." 
 
 General McOlellan stretched himself in his chair, Avith the air 
 of a man who wishes to talk, and said philosophically : 
 
 "There are very few 'fatal advantages' in war, Major — and I 
 assure you that, with adversaries like Lee and Jackson, nothing 
 in the future ever seems certain to me. I ought to whip Lee, 
 holding as I do that chart of his designs — but will I?" 
 
 " I sincerely hope not." 
 
 "Ah! you are recovering your good humor," laughed the 
 General. " Well, I don't know what the result will be, but I 
 
 * Historical.
 
 GENEPwAL McCLELLAN. 325 
 
 shall 'ose no time. Jackson is detached, and I shall probably 
 attack General Lee before he comes up. 1 ' 
 
 " He almost always arrives in time, General." 
 
 "As at Cold Harbor," was the cool response. "That was a 
 movement worthy of Lee's brain and Jackson's arm. My dear 
 Major, I begin to think that we have got the sound principles, 
 and you the great men." 
 
 I smiled — for there was something in the frank voice of the 
 General which produced good humor. 
 
 "Do you know, General, that you are challenging me to an 
 argument on the virtue or wickedness of secession < 
 
 " Not at all, not at all. I really never annoy myself with these 
 abstractions. I am a mere fighting man, you perceive, Major, 
 and follow my flag." 
 
 " And we follow ours, General." 
 
 " Very well ; and I suppose we will have to fight it out. But 
 I trust we shall do so like civilized people and gentlemen. I in- 
 tend to break down the military strength of the Southern Con- 
 federacy, if I can, and overthrow the whole political fabric with 
 the bayonet and cannon. But, I will not adopt for my motto, 
 Vcb victis, and, now or hereafter, make war upon non-combat- 
 anto." 
 
 " What of the negroes — do you approve of emancipating and 
 arming them?" 
 
 " 1 am a soldier, Major, and rarely indulge in the luxury of an 
 opinion," laughed the General. "Let the political errors of the 
 Administration be righted at tlve ballot-box. "* 
 
 " And when we are conquered — for you are sure of the result, 
 are you not, General?" 
 
 " I think that will be t\vsJinaU in the long run. The North is 
 rich, persevering, and more populous than the South." 
 
 ' What would you do with the rebels, in that unfortunate 
 event ?'' 
 
 " I would proclaim universal amnesty, and say to the people 
 of the South, ' We have fought hard, let us be friends again.' " 
 
 " Your views at least are liberal, whatever may be the result. '"' 
 
 * His words.
 
 326 SURRY OF EAGLE S NEST. 
 
 "They are rational, Major. The statesman who cannot look 
 beyond the petty hatreds and rivalries of the present is a ninny. 
 Suppose the Confederacy is overthrown, and the Southern States 
 accept in good faith the result, as a fair decision after a fair 
 fight ; suppose they return to the Union, and honestly take the 
 oath of allegiance ; is it good sense or puerile blundering — which 
 — to insist upon treating a great, proud nation as a conquered 
 race? It is the civilians who have never smelt gunpowder that 
 believe the South won't fight if she's trodden on. The choice 
 will be between smouldering, eternal, watchful hate, ready to 
 break out in armed revolution again, or an open, frank, and 
 honest union between the South and the North— the herald of 
 greater prosperity and power for all the nation than before. That 
 union will take place, that prosperity be seen in our day. All that 
 is needed is to sweep away the buzzing and stinging insects of 
 the moment, and the new era will commence in all its glory." 
 
 General McClellan spoke with animation, and his frank face 
 was turned full upon me. Then, as he caught my eye, he smiled. 
 
 " I understand your look, Major," he said ; " you think I am 
 counting the Federal chickens before they are hatched, and fore- 
 casting events which will never take place. Well and good— 
 we think differently. We are going to beat you by numbers- 
 forewarned, forearmed. Now let us talk of Jackson. What a 
 surprising career ! We thought nothing of him at West Point, 
 and here he is taking the wind out of all our sails. Were you 
 with him in his Valley campaign?" 
 
 " Throughout, General." 
 
 " That campaign surpasses every thing else in the war." 
 
 And the conversation turned upon other acquaintances of the 
 General in the Southern army, about whom he seemed to have 
 much curiosity. 
 
 The interview lasted until nine or ten o'clock, the General 
 dispatching such business as came before him with rapidity and 
 decision. I could only ascertain that his forces were pressing 
 forward toward Boonsboro' and Crampton's Gap, and that lie in- 
 tended, if possible, to bring General Lee to an engagement before 
 he was re-enforced by Jackson.
 
 WHAT FOLLOWED. 327 
 
 When I parted with the General, he frankly held out his hand 
 and said: 
 
 " We are soldiers, Major, and can shake hands on the eve of 
 battle. I regret your capture, hut will see that you are sub- 
 jected to no annoyance. When you see Jackson, present my 
 respects to him, and tell him that I hope to meet him at Phi- 
 lippi." 
 
 " I will do so, General. But take care — his embrace is fatal !" 
 
 *' W, will see," was the smiling reply; and so we parted. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 WHAT FOLLOWED. 
 
 The next morning I was placed, with other Confederate pris- 
 oners, upon a train of cars, which came up from Baltimore to a 
 point near Frederick City ; and no sooner had I observed the 
 arrangements made for guarding the prisoners, than I resolved 
 to attempt to escape. 
 
 The carriages in which we were placed were " passenger cars," 
 with wide windows, quite sufficient to permit the passage of a 
 man's body ; and I saw at a glance that, if I could avoid attract- 
 ing the attention of the infantry guard at the doors, I could pass 
 my body through one of the apertures. Then, as this could only 
 be effected, with any chance of escape, while the train was in 
 motion, I must take the probable results of a heavy fall. That 
 fall might break my neck, or my limbs ; but something has to be 
 risked in war ; and the horrors of a Northern prison loomed up 
 in hideous colors before my eyes. I resolved to risk every thing. 
 
 The train was soon full of prisoners, and in motion toward 
 Baltimore. I made a reconnoissance of my surroundings. Every 
 seat was filled, and the air was so close that many of the win- 
 dows had been opened. Up and down the aisle between tho 
 seats walked a Federal guard, with musket and bayonet. At 
 each door stood another, armed in the same manner. 
 
 I shall not further trouble the reader with the difficulties I en-
 
 328 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 countered in the undertaking which I had resolved upon. After 
 all, the design was not so critical or dangerous ; and hundreds of 
 prisoners escaped during the war precisely in the manner I did. 
 
 Watching my moment when the sentinel's back was turned, 
 and the train was passing through a belt of woods, I passed my 
 body through the open window, threw myself out, and fell vio- 
 lently to the ground. 
 
 As I rose, stunned and bewildered, but with no bones broken, 
 a musket was discharged from the train, which had swept on, 
 and a bullet whistled by my head ; then another followed, and I 
 heard that grating sound which is made by the iron wheels of a 
 railroad train when the brakes are put on to check it. 
 
 It was too late, however. I was far behind, and, hastening 
 into the woods, I went on rapidly, until the railroad was many 
 miles distant. 
 
 So far I was safe. "What remained now was, to elude the 
 patrols and scouting-parties of the enemy, who would instantly 
 discover my identity from my gray uniform. To avoid all &uch 
 dangerous people, I plunged deeper into the woods, and, reaching 
 a secluded dell, through which ran a small watercourse, selected 
 a clump of bushes, and, worn out with my rapid march, lay down 
 upon the cool turf to rest. 
 
 My intention was to remain thus perdu until night, to avoid 
 scouting-parties ; and I had begun to think rather ruefully of tha 
 tremendous tramp before me, all the way to Leesburg, when I 
 heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and cautiously looked out from 
 my covert. 
 
 Two Federal cavalry-men had entered the glade, attracted by 
 the green grass and flowing stream, and in a moment I saw them 
 stop, unbridle their horses, and turn them loose to graze. 
 
 The men then lay down in the sunshine, and began conversing 
 idly. 
 
 I was within twenty paces, and heard every word which they 
 uttered, but understood nothing. The explanation of the fact is 
 very simple. The newcomers were two stolid young Dutchmen, 
 evidently raw recruits, and they spoke in the genuine guttural of 
 the Fatherland.
 
 WHAT FOLLOWED. 329 
 
 In half an hour they ceased talking, stretched themselves 
 prone on the grass, and a low thunder through the nose proved 
 that, overcome hy the warm sunshine, and the fatigue probably 
 of a march, they had fallen asleep. 
 
 Suddenly, as I gazed out cautiously upon the slumbering Teu- . 
 tons, I thought, "Why not capture these two worthies?" The 
 affair was not difficult. I saw that they had unbuckled the belts 
 around their portly persons, laid their weapons aside, and, if 
 once I was in possession of their pistols, the thing was decided. 
 Why not? — and, raising my head cautiously, I reconnoitred 
 again. 
 
 The men were sleeping as sound as the seven champions of 
 Christendom, and I no longer hesitated. Eising without noise, 
 I listened, advanced from the covert, and then with three 
 bounds reached the spot and seized the weapons of the cavalry- 
 men. 
 
 The noise woke them, and they started up, but it was oidy to 
 find a cocked pistol as their breasts. They were my prisoners, 
 and as harmless as lambs. 
 
 No time was now lost. I ordered the men by signs to bridle 
 up, and this they did with an air of perfect indifference ; they 
 rode Government horses. 
 
 By this time I had taken my resolution. Ordering one of the 
 men, as before, to take off his blue coat, I put it on, strapping 
 my own behind one of the saddles, and then directing the other 
 prisoner to mount, I got into the saddle of the second horse, 
 leaving the coatless personage to make his way back as he could 
 to his command. I set forward rapidly, with my mounted pris- 
 oner toward the Potomac. 
 
 We travelled all that night, meeting no one — were chased the 
 next morning by a Federal scouting-party, but outran them, and 
 finally I reached and crossed the river at Leesburg, and was once 
 more within the Southern lines. 
 
 Does the reader regard this adventure as indicative of " dash," 
 "nerve," &c, &c, in Major Surry? Not at all. There was no 
 more difficulty in capturing those men after once securing their 
 >rms, than in letting them finish thair nap. They were con-
 
 330 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 • 
 
 scripts, riding Government horses, and averse to fighting, much 
 preferring prison-life and regular rations. 
 
 I delivered up my prisoner and his horse to a quartermaster at 
 Leesburg, and then rapidly made my way toward the Valley — ■ 
 Harry Saltoun's watch still safe upon my person. 
 
 Grossing the Shenandoah, opposite Hillsboro', I pushed on ; 
 heard that Harper's Ferry had fallen ; and, still continuing my 
 way, reached the Potomac near Sharpsburg at sunset, to find 
 General Lee's defiant lines still facing the enemy after the tre- 
 mendous struggle of that memorable day. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 WHERE AND WITH WHOM I SUPPED ON THE NIGHT OF 
 THE BATTLE OF SHARPSBURG. 
 
 The spectacle which met my eyes as I reached the field was 
 imposing. 
 
 Before me was a picturesque valley, hemmed in upon the east 
 by the wooded ramparts of the South Mountain, and traversed 
 by the winding current of the Antietam. On every eminence 
 rose farm-houses, now standing boldly out, now embowered in 
 trees. The light green of nearly ripe corn, the deeper green of 
 clover, and the russet-brown of ploughed land, over whiaii the 
 shadows came and went, made up a landscape which must have 
 been charming only the day before. 
 
 Now it was torn, dismantled, and swept bare by the besom 
 of war. All day the opposing battalions had charged backward 
 and forward through those smiling fields ; from behind those 
 peaceful farm-houses, now crowded with the dead and wounded, 
 sharpshooters had delivered their hot fire ; the corn was trampled 
 underfoot; the ground ploughed up with shot and shell; the 
 whole face of nature desolate. 
 
 On the elevated ground extending on both sides of the Antie- 
 tam were drawn up the hostile lines which all day long had
 
 WHERE I SUPPED. 331 
 
 wrestled to and fro in one of the bloodiest combats of history. 
 Connecting them was the small bridge over the Antietam which 
 had been the occasion of a struggle so desperate, of which 
 General McClellan had said, " Tell General Burnside to hold the 
 bridge ! The bridge ! always the bridge ! If that is lost, all is 
 lost!" 
 
 It was lost, and the battle with it. On the left, Jackson had 
 held his ground with that stubborn and unconquerable resolution 
 which accomplishes every thing. Stuart had driven back with 
 his artillery upder Pelham the advance to turn Jackson's flank ; 
 the sun had set, the conflict was over, and all was well. 
 
 General McClellan had attacked and been repulsed. That 
 meant defeat. 
 
 Passing along the lines of weary but laughing troops, cooking 
 rations at their camp-fires, I found General Jackson busily mas- 
 ticating a cracker by his fire, and reported the cause of my 
 absence. 
 
 "Your escape was truly providential, Major," he said. "We 
 have had some hard fighting in your absence, but have held our 
 ground here. With five thousand fresh troops I think we could 
 have driven the enemy from his position, and defeated him." 
 
 In this opinion I afterward understood that General Lee co- 
 incided.* 
 
 The General then proceeded to give me some account of the 
 action, and I afterward found that General McClellan's report 
 fully coincided with his opinions. The Federal commander had 
 massed his forces under Hooker against the left, where Jackson 
 was posted, and the failure of the attack in that portion of the 
 field decided the fate of the day. The fighting was desperate, 
 and our loss terrible — as was that of the enemy, I afterward dis- 
 covered, especially in officers ; but at nightfall Jackson occu- 
 pied the ground which he originally held. 
 
 "Our friend Stuart has performed invaluable services to-day," 
 said the General, warmly ; "he is a very great soldier! And 
 that youth, Pelham! You know him, do you not?" 
 
 * Historical.
 
 332 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Intimately, General. 
 
 " He is a very remarkable young man. He comman(5«d to-day 
 nearly all the artillery of the left wing of the army, and I have 
 never seen more skilful handling of guns. It is really extra- 
 ordinary to find such nerve and genius in a mere boy. "With a 
 Pelham on each flank, I believe I could whip the world!"* 
 
 These words delighted me. In the hurry of my narrative I 
 have not spoken of the warm friendship which existed between 
 myself and the noble young Alabamian ; but, with every fight in 
 which I witnessed his superb and headlong courage, his coolness 
 dash, and stubborn persistence, my admiration for him had 
 increased. 
 
 An hour after my arrival, Jackson sent me with a message to 
 Stuart, all his other staff-officers being absent on duty. 
 
 I found the commander of the cavalry lying under a tree, on 
 his red blanket, by the camp-fire, laughing and talking with his 
 staff. His enormous physical organization never seemed to 
 break down ; at all hours, in all weather, under every fatigue, 
 Stuart was the same superb war-machine, which nothing could 
 affect. 
 
 He laughed heartily at the narrative of my escape, and said : 
 
 "You ought to get our friend Joyeuse" (the sobriquet of a 
 member of his staff) " to write your adventures. "Well, we have 
 had a jolly time here, and nearly whipped them. Pelham has 
 covered himself all over with glory !" 
 
 Two Major-Generals had thus chanted the boy's praises, 
 and those Major-Generals were called Jackson and Stuart ! 
 
 After a few more words I rose and bade the General good- 
 night. 
 
 "Long may you wave!" was his gay reply, as he stretched 
 himself upon his blanket ; and I rode back through the darkness. 
 Stuart had spoken in ardent terms of Pelham, but he had not 
 referred to his own reckless gallantry, his obstinate stand when 
 Hooker tried to turn our left, and, his headlong gallop on his 
 beautiful " Lady Margaret " across the front of a Federal regi- 
 
 * Hi a words.
 
 WITH WHOM I SUPPED. 333 
 
 toent, who, recognizing his high rank, poured a murderous vollej 
 tnto him at the distance of fifty yards ! 
 
 He had passed unscathed. The fatal hullet was not moulded 
 then, which struck him at the Yellow Tavern. 
 
 A quarter of a mile from Stuart's bivouac, I passed a battalion 
 of artillery, grimly frowning toward the enemy, from the rising 
 ground where it was placed in battery, and, when I asked who 
 commanded it, the reply was "Pelham." 
 
 Ten paces further I found him seated by the camp-fire 
 among his men, and laughing gayly with a young Federal 
 officer, who was munching a cracker. 
 
 As I approached, the officer turned round. It was my 
 brother Will ! 
 
 In an instant he had risen, and with all the ardor of a boy 
 thrown his arm around my neck. A hundred exclamations of 
 delight followed, a hundred questions were asked. Will seemed 
 positively overwhelmed with joy. 
 
 His presence was soon explained. A company of Federal 
 cavalry had charged Pelham's guns that day — Will had led 
 them — and one of the cannoneers had coolly swept the young 
 lieutenant from his saddle with a sponge staff.* When his 
 company retreated, torn to pieces by Pelham's canister, Will had 
 remained in the hands of his enemies. 
 
 In the commander of the horse artillery, however, he had 
 soon discovered an old comrade. He and Pelham had been 
 intimate friends at West Point, just before the war, and they 
 met each other with a shout of pleasure. 
 
 Seated by the camp-fire, they had exchanged a thousand jests 
 and recollections, interspersed with boyish laughter. 
 
 "Well," said Pelham, as he stood by the fire, after shaking 
 hands with me, " that's what I call romantic ! I thought that 
 my meeting with Will was curious, but here he finds his 
 brother." 
 
 " And the best brother you ever saw!" laughed Will, "if he 
 is a rebel ! I wish I was in the Southern army." 
 
 •F»ct
 
 334 
 
 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 And, passing from laughter to sighs, the boy looked gloomy. 
 
 "Stop all that talk, "Will," said Pelham. "And that reminds 
 me that we have had no supper. We live splendidly in the 
 Southern army generally — pheasants, woodcock, champagne, 
 and Havana cigars, for regular rations! But the commissary 
 seems to have forgotten us to-night. Suppose we go over to 
 that house yonder, and get something better than hard tack." 
 
 " All right !" was the gay reply of Will as he rose. 
 
 "First, however," said Pelham, with mock solemnity, "I will 
 take your parole, lieutenant, not to communicate directly or 
 indirectly with the inhabitants of that house." 
 
 "Oh, bother.! Jack," was the reply; "I intend to ask for a 
 drink the very first thing!" 
 
 " That is only reasonable," returned Pelham laughing. " Come 
 on, Surry, go with us." 
 
 It did not take much persuasion to induce me to do so, and 
 ten minutes' walk brought us to the house — a plain but elegant 
 mansion, evidently the residence of a gentleman. 
 
 I was still absorbed in talking with Will — interrogating him, 
 replying to his questions, exchanging a hundred laughing or 
 sighing recollections — when Pelham was heard exclaiming in a 
 low tone : 
 
 " Glorious ! they are just at supper !" 
 
 And he beckoned to me to come to the window and look. 
 
 Through a vine-clad window, I saw a gentleman and his family 
 at supper. There was something familiar in the face of one 
 of the young ladies, but I could not see her very distinctly. 1 
 soon had a better opportunity. Pelham had gone and knocked, 
 and the old gentleman rose and came to the door. 
 
 As soon as he saw us he evidently comprehended the object of 
 our visit, and very courteously invited us to come in to supper. 
 
 We entered, and what was my surprise to see Will suddenly 
 run forward, and, with all the abandon of a boy, throw his arms 
 around the young lady whose face I thought I had recognized ! 
 
 The embrace was followed by an astounding explosion in the 
 way of a kiss — and then a grand tableau! The young girl 
 blushing to the whites of her eyes, a second damsel standing
 
 WITH WHOM I SUPPED. 335 
 
 primly erect, the old gentleman utterly dumbfounded, the old 
 lady holding up her hands, and a pretty little girl of about ten, 
 ■with a quantity of bright curls, looking with eyes of wild amaze- 
 ment at the spectacle. 
 
 Every historian owes his reader an explanation of whatever is 
 obscure. The meaning of all this scene will be better under- 
 stood if the kind reader will turn back to the chapter headed, 
 " I chase and come up with a Federal officer." In my conversa- 
 tion with Will on that occasion, he said : " What's become of 
 Jenny Clayton ? At the North still? Pshaw ! Why don't she 
 come home?" The young lady before us was Miss Jenny Clay- 
 ton, a remote cousin of ours, from Virginia, who had been 
 Will's sweetheart when they were children. Her father, a timid 
 man, of lukewarm feeling toward the Confederacy, had sent her 
 to the North to be educated; she had come to visit a school- 
 mate, the daughter of Mr. Curtis, our host — and so we all met ! 
 
 A few words explained every thing, and the old gentleman 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 "Come, sit down, sit down, gentlemen!" he said to Pelham 
 and myself. " I am what you call a ' Union man,' but I am not a 
 churl on that account." 
 
 And he hospitably busied himself in heaping up our plates 
 with smoking " viands " — seethe novelists. "Viands," on the 
 present occasion, meant beef hash, hot bread, milk, butter, 
 coffee, preserves, and that succulent edible called " apple butter." 
 
 That hash! that "apple butter!" — that gorgeous, magical 
 supper! — memory still returns to it, and dwells upon it with the 
 fond and lingering tenderness of a lover who remembers the 
 bright hours of his happiness! 
 
 At last we rose, casting eloquent glances, illuminated by 
 smiles — each at each. 
 
 Will sat down by Jenny Clayton, who was soon running on 
 with him in the gayest manner, and Pelham had drawn to his 
 side the pretty little fairy with the curls, who — astounding 
 event! — declared herself an inveterate rebel! 
 
 "That is true," said the old gentleman, laughing. "Carrie 
 can't bear her own people, and runs to all the gray-coats."
 
 336 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " But I don't like your flag," said the little girl, "it looks so 
 bloody!" 
 
 And she shook her head sadly, looking with her great blue 
 eyes, half covered with golden ringlets, at Pelhara. That gaze 
 was met by Pelham with a long, sad, yearning look, which I 
 could not understand. The penetrating eyes had grown soft, the 
 laughter of the lips disappeared, an expression of longing tender- 
 ness relaxed the features of the young soldier — and, without 
 seeming aware of what he was doing, he drew the child toward 
 him. 
 
 His arm encircled the slender form, his lips were pressed to 
 jiers in a long, lingering kiss ; and then, as he turned aside his 
 head, I saw tears in his eyes. 
 
 " You are the very image of a little sister I have," he said, in 
 a low voice, "far away in Alabama." 
 
 The words were drowned in the laughter of Will and Miss 
 Jenny Clayton, who seemed to have become better friends than 
 ever. 
 
 When finally we rose, and bade our hospitable entertainers 
 good-night, I thought that Miss Jenny Clayton had quite suc- 
 ceeded in effacing tbe image of Miss Henrietta Fitzhugh. 
 
 I have remembered this evening ever since ; but nothing 
 dwells more clearly in my recollection than that kiss bestowed 
 by Pelham on the child, and the tender words he murmured as 
 he pressed her to his heart. 
 
 That night Will slept by my side at General Jackson's head- 
 quarters, or rather we spent the night together, talking of old 
 days, and friends at home. Why should I record that conver- 
 sation of two brothers ? It would scarcely interest the reader. 
 The chill winds of the September night, fanning the embers of 
 the camp-fire, bore away the words. 
 
 On the next day, as I have said, we remained in line of battle 
 facing the enemy, defying General McClellan to renew the attack. 
 On the day after, General Lee was on the south bank of the 
 Potomac — leaving only, growled the New York Tribune, "the 
 debris of his late camps, two disabled pieces of artillery, a few 
 hundred of his stragglers, perhaps two thousand of his wounded,
 
 FALLING BACK WITH STUART. 337 
 
 and ns many more of his nnburied dead — not a sound field-piece, 
 caisson, ambulance, or wagon. He takes with him the supplies 
 gathered in Maryland, and the rich spoils of Harper's Ferry." 
 
 Will was back to his command. To spare him the tedium of 
 a prison, I had succeeded in having his name added to the list 
 of Federal prisoners captured at Harper's Ferry, and released 
 upon parole not to serve until exchanged. With a close pressure 
 of the hand we had parted. 
 
 Such had been, from first to last, my experiences of the 
 " Maryland Campaign." 
 
 XCIY. 
 
 FALLING BACK WITH STUART. 
 
 We spent the beautiful month of October in the Valley. 
 
 What is it makes these sad memorial days so charming? 
 What influence descends upon the heart and brings back all the 
 years that are dead — their smiles and laughter, all their happy 
 faces, the mirth and revelry, and joy ? Not the fairest May that 
 ever shone, with budding leaves and flowers and grasses, moves 
 me like those slowly gliding hours, which take the golden 
 splendor of the woods, the azure of the sky, the glitter of the 
 sunshine for their drapery, and, filling heart and memory with 
 the dear dead faces, it may be, of friends long gone into the dust, 
 serenely lead us to the " days that are no more." 
 
 Is this life of dreams among the fading glories of the rich 
 October woods " unprofitable ?" Profit ! — forever profit 1 What 
 is real in this world except your reveries and dreams, O friendly 
 reader? What secret of happiness is greater than to follow 
 your illusions? Life is so short and dull that there is little in it 
 worth our notice, save its illusions ! — so cold and sad that I, for 
 my part, wonder we are not all dreamers ! 
 
 But the narrative of Surry halts by the way. Marchons ! To 
 horse and away, whatever reveries beckon I — whatever dreams 
 enchain us ! 
 
 Still, as we pass, let us cast a lingering glance, O kindly reader, 
 15
 
 338 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 on the gorgeous tints of autumn all along the wooded shores of 
 the Opequon and the Shenandoah, gliding, with a musical mur- 
 mur, to the bosom of the Potomac ; on the old hall yonder, with 
 its gay back -ground of many-colored foliage ; and upon the 
 smiling fields, over which the "Yankee cavalry" will soon be 
 sweeping. 
 
 A parting glance at the fair panorama — a pressure of the hand 
 exchanged with all the kind good friends who have made the 
 days so pleasant — and then " to horse !" For General McClellan 
 is moving ; his great adversary is hastening to intercept him 
 on the Rappahannock ; the days of idleness and " sweet do- 
 nothing" yield to day and night marches, and the shock of 
 battle. 
 
 At the end of October, Jackson followed Longstreet, and ap- 
 proached the little village of Millwood. Stuart had already 
 crossed the Blue Ridge, to guard the gaps, as the army moved — 
 and I accompanied him, by Jackson's permission, to capture, if 
 possible, a better horse than that of my Dutch prisoner. 
 
 From that moment it was fighting, fighting, fighting! "We 
 charged a heavy picket at Mountsville, and dispersed or captured 
 the whole party of about seventy-five. Then the column pushed 
 on to Aldie. 
 
 As we mounted the hill — bang ! bang ! And, driving on, the 
 head of the column, Fitz Lee's brigade, ran into Buford's cavalry, 
 about five thousand in number. 
 
 This was a species of hornet's nest, which buzzed in a manner 
 more exciting than agreeable. Stuart fell back with his small 
 force to the hill above, and, receiving intelligence that another 
 column was closing in on his rear, opened with his horse artillery 
 upon the enemy, and quietly withdrew, by a friendly cross-roadj 
 to the town of Middleburg. 
 
 At Mountsville, the officer commanding the picket, from the 
 First Rhode Island, was wounded, and his watch taken in charge 
 by a staff-officer. Months afterward it was returned to him by 
 the hands of Captain Stone, a Federal prisoner.* 
 
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 FALLING BACK "WITH STUART. 339 
 
 So we marched into Hiddleburg, where a bevy of fair girls 
 came forth to meet the gallant Stuart, in a state of crazy joy at 
 seeing the gray-coats, and the black feather of their favorite 
 chieftain. Did the bold lips press some rosy cheeks without 
 having them withdrawn ? If so, will anybody blame the 
 maidens? Not I. 
 
 Thereafter, still fighting, fighting, fighting! At Mountsville, 
 at Union, at Bloomfield, at Upperville — everywhere fighting. 
 Here Colonel Wickham, that gallant cavalier, ever leading his 
 men in the charge, was wounded; and, more than once, the 
 guns of Pelham were in imminent danger of capture. 
 
 I admired now, more than ever, the splendid genius for artil- 
 lery which this mere boy possessed. There is a genius for every 
 things — Pelham's was to fight artillery. He was born for that, 
 and found his proper sphere in command of Stuart's guns. 
 With what unyielding obstinacy he fought ! with a nerve and 
 courage how gay and splendid ! No part of the ground escaped 
 his eagle eye — no ruse could deceive him. He fought with the 
 ardor of a boy and the stubborn obstinacy of gray hairs. Rush- 
 ing his guns into position upon every hill, there he staid until 
 the enemy were almost at the muzzles and were closing in upon 
 his flanks. Then, hastily limbering up and retiring, under a 
 storm of bullets, he took position on the next elevation, and 
 poured his canister into the advancing columns as before. 
 
 Stuart slowly retired before the enemy, fighting at every step, 
 until he reached the high ground below Paris. Here Pelham 
 posted his artillery on the slope of the mountain, at sunset, and 
 before these frowning war-dogs the enemy halted. 
 
 Meanwhile the whole command, except a trifling rear-guard, 
 had moved toward Piedmont, to guard the trains then falling 
 back. 
 
 You see, my dear reader, I am not writing a series of " ro- 
 mantic incidents," for I have introduced a wagon-train, the an- 
 tipodes of romance. But this mention of the cavalry -train re- 
 calls one of those " trifles " which, I have warned you, I remem- 
 ber more vividly than all else. 
 
 Stuart and his staff retired at nightfall to the little village of
 
 340 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Paris, where, after partaking of an excellent supper, we all 
 came to a halt before the old wooden tavern, facing the main 
 street, at the eastern terminus thereof. The house was bare 
 and deserted, but a fire was speedily kindled in the fireplace, 
 and pipes were produced by the staff. 
 
 The General was stretched upon a bench, and seemed in the 
 depths of despair. 
 
 " What is the matter f" I asked. 
 
 " Well, a blunder has occurred in the movement of my column 
 toward Piedmont, and my trains are in great danger." 
 
 "That's enough to make any one blue, I confess, General." 
 
 " As indigo," was the reply, in the tone of a man who has 
 lost his last friend. And the General sank back, knitting his 
 brows. 
 
 As he did so, something was said which produced a laugh — 
 and, to my great surprise, Stuart joined in it heartily. 
 
 " You are very gay for a man who has the blues," I said. 
 
 "Well, the fact is, Major," was his gay reply, "I am so blue 
 to-night, that I have to laugh to keep up my spirits, you see !"* 
 
 And, throwing himself back, the General laughed again, 
 yawned, and immediately fell asleep. My own eyelids were just 
 drooping, when a cavalry-man rode up and waked the party. 
 
 " Well, what news ?" asked Stuart, yawning. 
 
 "Major Wooldridge says the enemy are advancing, General, 
 and that you had better get away from here." 
 
 The General indulged in another yawn, stretched his limbs, 
 and buckled on his sabre.t 
 
 " I believe I will go and see old Stonewall," he said. 
 
 The staff were soon ready ; and mounting our horses, we 
 turned their heads toward Ashby's Gap. 
 
 We had scarcely emerged from the little village, and began the 
 ascent of the mountain road which leads through the Gap, when 
 
 * His words. 
 
 t In conversation with me, Colonel Surry said, with a laugh, that he knew this and 
 many other scenes of his memoirs would appear too trifling and unimportant for 
 record. " But I am tired of the noise of great battles," ho added, " and amuse my- 
 self by travelling along the by-ways of my subject, and picking up the 'uncon- 
 sidered trifles.' 1 " 
 
 ■ 4
 
 A MORAL REFLECTION. 341 
 
 rapid firing came from the rear, and then the clatter of hoofs 
 was heard upon the street of the village. 
 
 "They are crowding "Wooldridge," said the General, "hut he 
 is one of my hest officers, and will take care of himself. Come 
 on, Major, we are losing time." 
 
 And we pushed our horses into a rapid trot, which soon 
 brought us to the river. Fording at the spot which I so well 
 remembered on my hard ride from Manassas to Winchester in 
 July, 1861, we went on to Millwood, and found General Jackson 
 in his tent, under the trees of a forest near, reading his Bible, 
 from which he looked up with a smile of pleasure as Stuart en- 
 tered.* 
 
 Before daylight Stuart was again in the saddle and travelling 
 rapidly toward Front Royal, to cross at the first gap he found 
 unoccupied by the enemy, and take command of his column. I 
 was with him. 
 
 XCY. 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS A VALUABLE MORAL REFLECTION. 
 
 The last words of the last chapter are easily explained. 
 
 I was a short day's ride from May Beverley, and I could no 
 longer utter those rebellious words, "I will not look again upon 
 her face!" 
 
 Alas for human resolution ! However hard the iron, there is 
 a fire that will melt it! — however obstinate a man's will, it yields 
 to the smile of a girl ! I had sworn not to go near May Beverley, 
 and I was hastening to see her once more, as fast as my horse 
 would carry me ! 
 
 Moral : — Never trouble yourself by making good resolutions 
 when the eyes of a woman are mixed up with them ! 
 
 I had easily procured twenty-four hours' leave of absence from 
 General Jackson, who evidently was in no haste to leave Mill- 
 
 * General Stuart sj>oke of tbis incident moro than once.
 
 342 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 wood ; and Betting out with Stuart, who had been joined by 
 Hampton's Brigade, passed through White Post and Smoketown, 
 and entered Manassas Gap. 
 
 Beyond this gorge in the Blue Ridge was The Oaks, a little 
 off the track of the advancing enemy. 
 
 "Who are you going to see, Surry?" said Stuart, as, having 
 vidden ahead of the cavalry, we wound along the mountain road 
 toward Linden. 
 
 " Going to see, my dear General ?" I echoed. " Why, the manner 
 in which your cavalry is handled." 
 
 Stuart laughed. 
 
 "'Sweet Evelina! dear Evelina!' "he sang; "is her name 
 Evelina, Surry, and where does she live ?" 
 
 " Pshaw, General ! Your suspicion is enormous ! But I now 
 remember there is a friend of mine in his region." 
 
 " Aha ! I thought so ! I wish I could go with you." 
 
 " She would be delighted to see you. You know all the girls 
 are crazy to ' follow your feather.' " , 
 
 " You make me gloomy — to think what I miss. Well, 
 
 " If you get there before I do, 
 Oh I tell her I'm a-coming too 1" 
 
 And, as we came to a point where we had to separate, Stuart 
 cried : 
 
 " Success to you, Surry, and long may you wave!" 
 
 With these words the gay cavalier put spur to his horse, and 
 galloped on to catch up with Rosser. 
 
 I rode on rapidly toward The Oaks, which soon rose before 
 me, on its wooded hill. 
 
 From beyond came the clear crack of carbines, and from time 
 to time the thunder of Pelham's guns, as he fell back slowly be- 
 fore the advancing enemy.
 
 A DREAM OF AUTUMN. 343 
 
 XCYI. 
 
 A DREAM OF AUTUMN. 
 
 Again at The Oaks! How many stirring scenes had I wit- 
 nessed, what vivid emotions had been mine, since first I ascended 
 the steps of this old portico in April, 1861 1 
 
 Then I was a gay and ardent youth, on fire with the coming 
 conflict, and revelling in dreams of glory and romance. Now I 
 was a weary, dusty soldier, with clanking sabre, dingy uniform, 
 and a settled conviction that the thing called war was a hard 
 and disagreeable affair — not at all a splendid series of adventures. 
 
 I had seen much, felt more, reflected most of all — and here I 
 was within ten feet of her smile, the sheen of her hair, the 
 haunting splendor of her eyes ! Oh, glory, fame, the long result 
 of war! — what are all these when a girl looks at you, laughing 
 with her eyes, and, blushing, murmurs : 
 
 "You have come at last!" 
 
 An hour after my arrival at The Oaks, I had answered all 
 Colonel Beverley's questions — agreed with him upon every sub- 
 ject — and was walking with May Beverley across the hills. Very 
 soon we lost our way. 
 
 There are moments when, in losing our way, we find all that 
 is worth having in this world of disappointments, sorrows, and 
 regrets ! 
 
 The afternoon was dreamy and memorial. The affluent glories 
 of the splendid autumn burned away ; and on every side the 
 forests blazed with crimson, blue, and gold — slowly fading now 
 into the russet brown of winter. The mountain slopes were 
 magical in their vivid coloring; and you would have said the 
 banners of all nations flaunted in the dreamy atmosphere. The 
 sky was like the blue eyes of a girl, when, opening from bud to 
 blossom, she expands into the perfect flower of womanhood ; the 
 limpid waters of the streamlets near lapsed away as sweetly as the 
 "murmur of a dream;" and over all the scene of shining stream, 
 and deep blue sky, and azure mountain, drooped the mellow
 
 344 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 haze of the mild Indian summer, rounding every outline, soften- 
 ing every tint, and making of this lovely region a hright Arcady 
 of love and poesy and dreams ! 
 
 Such was the scene amid which I wandered with the woman 
 I had loved so long; and, like some magical influence, it melted 
 deep into the hearts of those who gazed upon it. All the silver 
 spangles of the ocean rippling in the wind, all the glitter of the 
 stars, the murmur of the waves, the perfume of the breezes, and 
 the dreamy splendor of the sky seemed here to mingle into one 
 supreme and perfect whole of love and joy and beauty ! 
 
 Only, yonder, not a mile away, is heard the thunder of the 
 guns as Pelham drives the enemy hack ; and ever it draws 
 nearer — that grim sound which seems to desecrate the tranquil 
 landscape. 
 
 May Beverley does not seem to hear it. She is sitting now 
 upon a mossy rock, beneath a little pine ; and, looking down, 
 with cheeks suffused in blushes, plays with the tassel of her belt, 
 or with an autumn flower, which she has plucked beside the 
 rock. The other hand— once she strove to withdraw it, but the 
 effort had been soon abandoned. It trembled slightly, but rested 
 in the clasp which encircled it. 
 
 The pine-tree listened doubtless to the murmurs, mingling 
 with the whisper of its tassels as the low breeze stirred them on 
 that mild memorial afternoon. 
 
 Did it hear a woman whisper, as her head sank on the bosom 
 of a man who held her in his arms, clasped to his heart — hear 
 her murmur with a face full of tears and blushes : 
 
 " Yes ! from the moment when you lay before me, pale and 
 motionless, in the wood, that day!" 
 
 "And never forgot me — never lost sight of the poor soldier, 
 living only for you?" 
 
 "Never! never!" 
 
 pine-tree, never whisper what you heard or saw ! There 
 are things which the cold world laughs at, makes it cynical jest 
 of, and so desecrates. 
 
 Yet who shall dare to laugh at the spectacle of a proud and 
 beautiful girl, long fettered by a hateful contract, shuddering at
 
 Vv\ *«,-^ 
 
 
 mr*ss 
 
 The Autumn Woods. — p. 344.
 
 THE AWAKING. 345 
 
 a loathsome union with a man she despises — who shall laugh 
 when she gives way to her heart, and, falling weak and over- 
 come into the arms of one who has loved her long and dearly, 
 murmurs, " Take charge of my poor life — direct my fate — I 
 have loved, and love you only !" 
 
 That was the confession which came in a murmur from the 
 beautiful lips of the proud May Beverley, and she made it amid 
 the thunder of the guns, her face hid in my breast, heart beating 
 against heart. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 THE AWAKING. 
 
 We had returned to The Oaks : the young girl had disappeared 
 upstairs : I was having a "private conversation" with Colonel 
 Beverley. 
 
 A few words will place upon record all that is necessary to a 
 comprehension of Ihese memoirs. 
 
 My host listened in silence and with evident pain to my avowal 
 and demand of his daughter's hand. When I had finished, he 
 shook his gray head sadly, and seemed too much moved to 
 speak. Then he leaned over, took my hand, and said in his 
 bravo and loyal voice: 
 
 " My dear young friend — for I am very much older than your- 
 self, and may call you so — you have given me more pain in the 
 last ten minutes than words can express. You ask of me what 
 it is out of my power to grant — my daughter's hand. I appre- 
 ciate the sincerity of your feeling, and doubt not that my poor 
 child is equally in earnest, and would to God I could consent to 
 your union ! To have for my son the son of my oldest and 
 dearest friend, would be an inexpressible delight to me ; it is 
 almost beyond my power to deny you, but I must. My honor 
 is pledged. I am bound irrevocably by a promise to the dead — 
 Frederick Baskerville's father ; and I must add that my child is 
 »lso bound by her promise to that young man. She must adhere 
 15*
 
 346 SUERY OF EAG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 to her pledge, and I to mine. Our hearts may break, but at 
 least the honor of the Beverleys will remain untarnished!" 
 
 The old man's cheeks flushed, his eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Would to God," he exclaimed gloomily, "that I had cut out 
 my tongue, severed my right hand, before I uttered and re- 
 corded that promise ! I am no admirer of young Baskerville : 
 had I known what his character would become — but this is 
 idle ! Do not think hard of me, Major Surry ! this marriage 
 must take place ; let us end this painful interview, it is almost 
 more than I can bear !" 
 
 I rose. What is it that a proud man does when his heart is 
 breaking? I think he remains calm and quiet, resolved not to 
 shrink or bend, though the thunder smite him. 
 
 I went to my chamber to get my arms. On the staircase I 
 met May Beverley. She glanced at my pale face, and said : 
 
 "Papa has refused you ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The color mounted to her beautiful face, and her head rose 
 erect as that of an offended duchess. 
 
 " I will never marry that person !" she said haughtily. 
 
 Then her head sank, and she burst into tears. 
 
 Captain Baskerville would have been displeased had he seen 
 where the young girl's head then rested ; but then, Captain 
 Baskerville's views or opinions were not important. This woman 
 was not yet his property. 
 
 Her lips were pressed to my own, and this is all that was 
 said in ten minutes : 
 
 " I love you !" 
 
 "I will never marry him! no, never, never t" 
 
 "And if there is any hope for me? — I shall be far away." 
 
 "I will send you a flower like this !" 
 
 And taking from her bosom an autumn primrose, the blushing 
 girl held it out to me, remained a moment sobbing in my arms, 
 and then disappeared. 
 
 Ten minutes afterward I had left The Oaks.
 
 PELHAM'S HORSE ARTILLERY. 347 
 XCVIII. 
 
 HOW PELHAM FOUGHT HIS HORSE ARTILLERY 
 
 I ttjkned my back upon The Oaks with a heavy heart, and the 
 solitary ride I was about to take back over that ground, traversed 
 so gayly in the morning, appeared inexpressibly dreary. 
 
 I had reached a lofty hill at some distance from the house, 
 when the last regiments of cavalry appeared falling slowly back, 
 and Pelham's guns were seen bringing up the rear. On the 
 long column of pieces, caissons, and mounted cannoneers, the 
 red light of the setting sun was streaming splendidly, and in 
 front was seen the slender form of Pelham, with his smooth, 
 girlish face, and his brave, gay smile. The crimson light illu- 
 minated his figure, and fell around him like a glory. 
 
 I would have avoided him, for I was in no humor then to 
 speak with anybody ; but his first words as he recognized me 
 gave me something like a thrill of satisfaction. 
 
 " How are you, old fellow?" was Pelham's friendly greeting. 
 " Where did you come from ? You are just in time. We are 
 going to have a thundering fight here before night!" 
 
 And he grasped my hand with that cordial, kindly manner 
 which made him so many friends. 
 
 " Ah !" I said, " are they pressing you?" 
 
 "Yes, in heavy force." 
 
 " You don't seem in a hurry." 
 
 " Well," was his reply in a tranquil tone, " I don't like to be hur- 
 ried, but they'll be here by the time I get into position yonder." 
 
 And he pointed to the next hill. 
 
 "The boys are in splendid spirits," he added gayly; "listen!" 
 
 In fact, the horse artillery were singing at the top of their 
 voices : 
 
 " Ain't you — ain't you — happy? 
 
 Anchor by-and-by ! 
 Ain't you— ain't you — happy ? 
 
 Anchor by-and-by! 
 Stand the storm, it won't be long! 
 
 Anchor by-and-by I"
 
 348 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 There was something stirring in the jovial voices, and Pelham's 
 face lit up as he listened. 
 
 "There never were better cannoneers!" he said; " they will 
 fight the Yankees to the very muzzles of the guns!" 
 
 As he spoke, a French song resounded — a gay and lilting air 
 — and he began to laugh. 
 
 "That's my 'Napoleon detachment,'" said Pelham; "and 
 Dominic the No. I. is leading." 
 
 All at once, above the voices, was heard rapid firing from the 
 small rear-guard, and a cavalry-man came on at full gallop, with 
 the intelligence that the enemy were pressing forward rapidly 
 to charge the guns. 
 
 Pelham l-ode quietly to a point near, from which he could get 
 a better view ; then he suddenly came back like lightning, and 
 ordered : 
 
 "Forward! gallop!" 
 
 The column of pieces moved at the word, broke into a gallop, 
 and, thundering across a flat, mounted the opposite hill. 
 
 Pelham was beside them, and they were instantly placed in 
 battery, and opened fire. 
 
 It was not a moment too soon. A heavy force of Federal 
 cavalry had charged the rear-guard, broken through it, and 
 were now seen advancing at a headlong gallop to charge the 
 pieces. 
 
 All at once, the bronze war-dogs of Pelham opened their 
 grim mouths, and a storm of solid shot tore through the Federal 
 ranks, overthrowing men and horses; and this was succeeded, as 
 they still pressed on, by a deadly fire of canister. 
 
 At the same moment, Gordon, that brave and noble North 
 Carolinian, one of my best friends, charged them at the head of 
 the " Old First," and, had it not been for a stone wall and 
 ditch, would have swept them back at every point. As it was, 
 his horses floundered iu the deep ditch, the sharpshooters behind 
 the wall poured in a destructive fire, and Gordon was forced to 
 fall back to the hill.* 
 
 * gee his report.
 
 PELHAM'S HORSE ARTILLERY. 349 
 
 The fine face of the North Carolinian was flashed with rage ; 
 his eyes glared ; he could ill brook such a repulse. 
 
 Pelham met him with a calm smile : 
 
 "Don't annoy yourself, Colonel, 1 ' he said, "they won't ride 
 over me." 
 
 And, turning to an officer, he said coolly : 
 
 "Double-shot all the guns with canister." 
 
 As he spoke, the enemy, who had rapidly re-formed their 
 line, charged straight upon the pieces. 
 
 Pelham sat his horse, looking coolly at the dark column as it 
 swept upon him. He did not move a muscle, but his teeth were 
 clinched beneath the thin lips, and the blue eyes blazed. The 
 enemy were suffered to advance within less than a hundred 
 yards of the guns, when Pelham rose in his stirrups, and in his 
 ringing voice shouted : 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 The ground shook ; a huge cloud for an instant obscured the 
 scene ; then, as it drifted, the Federal ranks were seen to break 
 in disorder and retreat, leaving the ground strewed with their 
 dead. 
 
 " All right!" said Pelham, coolly. " Reload with canister. 
 
 The cannoneers sprang to the pieces, and they were soon 
 ready again. But the enemy did not seem willing to renew the 
 charge. They dismounted a heavy line of sharpshooters, ad- 
 vanced, and taking advantage of every species of cover, were 
 evidently preparing to close in upon the guns. 
 
 The bullets now began to fly thick and fast. Pelham sat his 
 horse motionless, and gazing at the advancing line. 
 
 "They will make a rush directly, Surry," he said coolly, "and 
 I'll show you how my boys will mow them down." 
 
 " They do seem determined to come to close quarters." 
 
 " Why don't they do it, then ? They are after something I 
 don't understand. What is it?" 
 
 The reply came from our rear. Suddenly a loud cheer was 
 heard directly in rear of the guns ; and a regiment, which the 
 enemy had sent round through a clump of woods, charged the 
 pieces at full gallop.
 
 350 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Action rear !" Pelharn shouted, darting to his guns ; and two 
 pieces were whirled about, and opened upon the charging column. 
 The fire raked the enemy with deadly effect ; and they wavered 
 for an instant. Then they re-formed, and came on again head- 
 long. At the same moment the line of sharpshooters in front 
 charged at a run, right up to the muzzles of the guns. 
 
 "We were surrounded ; and from that moment the fight became 
 desperate. Pelham was everywhere, cheering on the men, with 
 his drawn sabre flashing in the last rays of sunlight— and as that 
 blood-red light streamed on his slender figure, and countenance 
 all ablaze with the fire of battle, his appearance was grand. 
 
 The boy-artillerist was in his proper sphere — fighting his guns 
 to the very muzzle, determined to die where he stood, or drive 
 the enemy back. 
 
 More than one of the dismounted Federal cavalry charged up 
 to the mouths of the pieces and were hurled back, torn to pieces 
 with shell or canister ; and, as each deadly discharge swept their 
 enemies back, the cannoneers uttered triumphant shouts, in 
 which might be discerned the fierce joy of fighting which these 
 veritable war-dogs experienced. 
 
 Suddenly above the thunder of the guns resounded the loud, 
 imperial Marseillaise, sung with a species of ferocious roar by 
 the men of the "Napoleon detachment," as they worked the 
 guns, driving back the charge upon the rear.* There was some- 
 thing in the voices of these men inexpressibly defiant and deter- 
 mined — the martial chorus rang out splendid and triumphant ; it 
 seemed to say, " Come ! we will die here, where we stand !" 
 
 Above them, on his horse, towered the form of Pelham, and 
 his voice made the men grow wild. 
 
 Never have I seen such a fight. It was an episode from the 
 wars of the Titans — the conflict of the giants and the thunder- 
 bolts. 
 
 The force in front was swept back, decimated, and completely 
 routed. As they gave way, Gordon charged and drove them 
 with the sabre. At the same moment the force in rear was seen 
 to recoil. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 PELHAM'S HORSE ARTILLERY. 351 
 
 Then was presented a spectacle which made the heart leap, 
 and brought a fierce cheer from the men. 
 
 Right down on the enemy's flank hurst a column of Southern 
 cavalry, and then followed the quick work of the sabre. A 
 desperate combat followed — but it did not last ten minutes. 
 The enemy gave way — the Southern horsemen pressed them, cut- 
 ting right and left; and as the scattered Federal cavalry darted 
 over the hill, I saw in front of their pursuers the tall form of 
 Mordaunt. 
 
 At every sweep of his heavy sabre a man was cut out of the 
 saddle; and not until he had struck their main body did he 
 sheathe his weapon and slowly retire, with a firm and defiant 
 front, which the enemy made no attempt to charge. 
 
 " Well, P elham," he said, as he rode up, "you have had 
 pretty hot work, but I think they have got enough for the 
 present." 
 
 And he grasped the hand of Pelham, whose face blushed 
 proudly. 
 
 "When I took the hand of Mordaunt in my turn, something 
 wet and clammy attracted my attention. 
 
 " It is only blood," he said, laughing grimly ; " there is a good 
 deal on my hands." 
 
 The fighting was now evidently over for the day. Night had 
 come, and the enemy would not attempt to renew the attack 
 before morning. 
 
 I woke to the consciousness, as the artillery limbered up and 
 prepared to move on, that I was mounted on a weary horse, 
 with night and a journey of about thirty miles before me. I 
 was thinking of the dreary ride, when, all at once, the voice of 
 Mordaunt said : 
 
 " Come and sup with me, Surry — we are not far from my 
 house, and I must go there for an hour or two, to get some 
 papers." 
 
 To this I agreed, especially as the place was on my route. 
 Pelham bade me farewell with a laugh. 
 
 "Tell General Jackson that we are all right, Surry 1" he said; 
 "and come and see me soon." 

 
 352 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "With a pressure of the hand I parted with the brave hoy, and 
 he rode on. 
 
 As the horse artillery took up the line of march, I heard the 
 
 cannoneers again strike up the lilting chorus: 
 
 "Stand the storm, it won't be long 1 
 Anchor by-and-by 1" 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 I DELIVER UP HARRY SALTOUN'S WATCH, AND MAKE A 
 
 DISCOVERY. 
 
 Mokdattnt had gone to give an order to his second in com- 
 mand, relating to the movements of the cavalry during his brief 
 absence, when I was hailed by a laughing voice near me, and 
 young Harry Saltoun rode up, with one arm ia a sling, and held 
 out his hand. 
 
 He looked thin and pale, but his eye was as laughing, his smiie 
 as gay, and his bearing as gallant as ever. 
 
 " How are you, Major?" was his easy greeting. "Delighted to 
 Bee you again ! Just to think of my missing the whole Mary- 
 land campaign!" 
 
 " Your wound kept you away?" 
 
 "Yes — at that glorious Elm Cottage! Did you ever know 
 kinder people?" 
 
 " They are charming." 
 
 " I believe you." 
 
 " Did you like your young nurse ? I believe she took especial 
 charge of you?" 
 
 Harry Saltoun's face colored suddenly — it was a veritable 
 blush which came to his cheeks. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he stammered, "we became very good friends. 
 But tell me about Maryland. How sorry I am I did not go with 
 the cavalry boys! They passed right by my father's — near 
 Frederick City." 
 
 What did that sudden blush moan? Had Harry Saltoun
 
 HARRY SALTOUN'S WATCH. 353 
 
 fallen in love with Violet Grafton, to whom he had carried Mor- 
 daunt's note, soliciting her good offices for the youth, when he 
 was wounded ? 
 
 •'You ought to have found out our house," he continued, 
 laughing, " and made the old gentleman supply you with rations. 
 They beat the Confederate article, I tell you !" 
 
 " I can testify as much from personal experience," was my re- 
 ply, and, informing the young officer of my visit to his father, 
 I drew from my breast and gave him his watch. 
 
 At sight of it he exhibited the most unmistakable pleasure. 
 
 "Thank you, Major!" he exclaimed; "you have done me a 
 real favor! When I left Maryland I left this behind, and, as I 
 have always worn it, I felt as if not having it would bring me 
 bad luck." 
 
 " Take care, or some Yankee will get it." 
 
 " Never — I will die first. I never have been captured yet — for, 
 you see, I take care of myself!" 
 
 " That is no doubt the reason you left Elm Cottage ?" 
 
 " Precisely ! No sooner did I hear that McClellan was ad 
 vancing than I fell back in good order, and here I am !" 
 
 The boy's laughter was like a cordial, and almost made the 
 gloomy Major Surry smile. 
 
 "And you left all well? — your fair nurse and everybody?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 And again, at the utterance of that word " nurse," Harry Sal- 
 toun blushed unmistakably. The thing was perfectly plain. 
 
 "Well, Major," he said, "good-by, now! Thank you again 
 for bringing my watch. There is Colonel Mordaunt calling to 
 you. Did yon ever see or read of a more splendid fellow in a 
 charge? His men adore him— and I would rather have him say 
 to me, 'Well done!' than get another grade from the War 
 Department." 
 
 With these words the gay youth saluted with the easy grace 
 which characterized him; and, joining Mordaunt, I rode with 
 him toward the mountains.
 
 354 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 c. 
 
 ACHMED 
 
 A short ride brought us to Mordaunt's house, buried in the 
 depths of the woods, and, dismounting, we entered the same 
 apartment, decorated with book-shelves, pictures, and tiger-skins, 
 in which I had held my first interview with the singular man, 
 who from a stranger had become a friend. 
 
 On the table lay the identical copy of Hugo's " Les Miserables " 
 which I had noticed before. The same agate eyes glared at me 
 from the tiger and leopard skins — the same Arab horsemen 
 hurled their javelins or wielded their ataghans in the pictures. 
 
 On the threshold appeared Achmed the Moor, in his pictur- 
 esque costume, bowing low at sight of me, and a few words in 
 Arabic evidently announced supper. 
 
 It was spread in an apartment decorated with old mahogany 
 furniture and long rows of family portraits, doubtless those of 
 Mordaunt's ancestors. The dames and caveliers, in yellow lace, 
 and doublets loaded with embroidery, looked down sedately up- 
 on their swarthy descendant in his gray uniform, with its braided 
 sleeves — on his brown hat, black plume, and heavy sabre. 
 
 The supper was excellent, and was placed upon a service plain 
 but rich. Mordaunt scarcely ate any thing, contenting himself 
 with a light meal and some bitterly strong coffee, after which 
 he lit his short, black meerschaum, and led the way back to his 
 library. I had eaten nothing. The depressing events of the 
 day had told upon me. 
 
 As I now, however, fixed my eyes upon Mordaunt, whose 
 Martial figure was stretched in a leathern chair opposite me, the 
 reflection came, " What is your disappointment, compared to the 
 misery which this man has suffered ? what right have you to com- 
 plain of a mere ' cross in love,' when you see before one who, in 
 spite of suffering which would break the hearts of most men, re- 
 tains his calmness and endures his agony without complaint?" 
 The immense trial which Mordaunt had thus met and overcome
 
 ACHMED. 355 
 
 by his iron resolution came to my memory, and the sight of his 
 stern, brave face was like a tonic, giving me strength again after 
 a moment of prostration. 
 
 Of that dark passage in his life I had never spoken to him ; 
 nor did he know that I had plucked out the heart of his mystery. 
 I shrank from letting this proud spirit suspect my knowledge of 
 his history, and had never breathed a syllable to hirn of my ad- 
 venture with Fenwick. 
 
 "You no doubt remember this apartment," said Mordannt. " I 
 have not been here for more than a year, but it remains as I left 
 it. See, lingo's ' Les Miserables,' which I remember we dis- 
 cussed, is lying there open at the page I was reading. 
 
 And he pointed to the volume. 
 
 " I see — it is a story we never finish quite in this life, Mor- 
 daunt." 
 
 "Ah! you philosophize, my guest!" he said, with his grim 
 smile, " and you are right. The history of ' The Wretched ' is that 
 of humanity, and it is rather long, as I once before said." 
 
 What an infinitely mournful book that is! What a pathos! 
 What a genius! Beside it, with all its tedium and surplusage, 
 how small all other books of the epoch seem!" 
 
 "You are right," replied Mordannt; "but in a strong man 
 the death of the old galley-slave would be unnatural. Look, 
 here are the lines in which the author sums up his drama." 
 
 And, taking the volume, he read aloud : 
 
 " II dort. Quoiquo le sort fut pour lui bicn 6trango 
 II vivait. II mour ut quand il n'eut pas son ange : 
 La chose simplement dVlle-meme arriva, 
 Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va." 
 
 " If all men died when they lost those who were their good 
 angels," he said, " what a grave-yard the world would be ! 
 The man who is strong bears his woe in silence — if he is wronged, 
 he avenges himself !" 
 
 And I saw a stern, hard look in the swarthy face of Mordaunt. 
 I knew he was thinking of Fenwick, and that his fierce spirit 
 returned in thought to that scene near Elm Cottage. Then his 
 face cleared up ; he resumed his tranquillity, and said :
 
 356 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " But we are touching too much upon philosophy, Surry. Let 
 us get to soraeting more cheerful. You were talking this evening 
 with young Saltoun." 
 
 " Yes ; he is a splendid hoy." 
 
 " As hrave a fellow as ever drew sabre. He has just returned 
 to his command." 
 
 " And left his heart behind, if I am not mistaken, at Elm 
 Cottage — has he not? I break no confidence — he has told me 
 nothing, and I speak to his friend — but he is evidently in love 
 with Violet Grafton." 
 
 Mordaunt turned his head quickly, but immediately became as 
 calm as before. 
 
 " Ah ! you tbink that, do you ?" he said in a low tone. 
 
 " Yes," I replied. 
 
 " "Well," was the cool response of Mordaunt, " he will make 
 her a very good husband." 
 
 " You think she will marry him!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Why not ?" came as coolly as ever. 
 
 " You astonish me, Mordaunt ! Violet Grafton marry this 
 gay youngster ! Why, he would never suit her." 
 
 " My dear Surry," was the cold reply, " do you think that 
 women, when they love, inquire if the individual in question 
 will ' suit them V You are a novice if you think so, or imagine 
 that like takes to like ! This young man, Harry Saltoun, is 
 what the French call the ' flower of the peas ' - all life, gayety, and 
 sunshine. Miss Grafton is tranquil, pensive, and serious. There 
 is your marriage made at once !" 
 
 And Mordaunt smiled ; but I could see that there was little 
 gayety in his dark face. 
 
 "Well," I said, "perhaps you know best; but there is an- 
 other circumstance which threatens to mix itself up with the 
 affair." 
 
 " What is that ?" 
 
 " The love of your protege Achmed for the same person." 
 
 " Ah ! you have observed that, too ! You are discern- 
 ing." 
 
 " It was made perfectly plain that night when he picked up
 
 A CUM ED. 357 
 
 the young lady's handkerchief, and by his burning glances direct- 
 ed toward her afterward." 
 
 " Well," said Mordaunt indifferently, " I don't think Miss 
 Grafton will ever unite herself with this young leopard ; but she 
 would not thereby debase herself." 
 
 " Is it possible that you think so, Mordaunt ? Miss Grafton 
 marry your servant!" 
 
 " Achmed is not my servant — he is my friend. He is the son 
 of a sheik, and, in his own country, ranks as a nobleman." 
 
 " Still he waits upon you." 
 
 " Yes, as a son: lie does not follow me fur gain, but from affec- 
 tion. You look incredulous — stay ! I will give you a proof of 
 what I say." 
 
 And. reaching out his hand, Mordaunt touched a small bell 
 upon the table, which gave forth a single ringing note. 
 
 Almost instantly the door opened without noise, and the 
 young Moor stood before us. 
 
 Mordaunt coolly drew from his pocket a heavy purse of gold, 
 and, emptying its glittering contents upon the table, said some 
 words to Achmed in a language which I did not understand. 
 The effect which they produced was remarkable. The youth 
 turned pale, and his lip trembled." 
 
 " I informed him," said Mordaunt to me, " that I had no 
 longer any need of his services, and offered him that gold as a 
 parting gift." 
 
 Then turning to Achmed, he uttered a few additional words, — 
 like the first, in Arabic. This time the effect was more remark- 
 able than before. 
 
 Achmed trembled in all his limbs, his face flushed, tears rushed 
 to his eyes, and, falling upon his knees before Mordaunt, he 
 bowed his face in his hands and burst into bitter sobs, mingled 
 with accents so beseeching, that, ignorant as I was of the lan- 
 guage in which he spoke, I could not possibly misunderstand 
 them. 
 
 " He prays me, by the memory of his father, and the grave of 
 his mother," said Mordaunt coolly, " not to make his life 
 wretched by banishing him from my presence. I am his life, the
 
 358 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 poor boy says — without, me, he will die. I offer him money, 
 when he would pour out his heart's blood for me !" 
 
 Mordaunt made no reply to the Moor in his own tongue ; and 
 this silence seemed suddenly to arouse all the pi'ide of the son of 
 the desert. He rose to his feet; folded his hands across his 
 bosom, and, letting his head fall, uttered a few words in a tone 
 so proud and calm that it was plain he would say no more. 
 
 " He says," explained Mordaunt, " ' It is well. Kill me ! The 
 son of Barach will not disgrace his blood — he does not fear death ! 
 Kill me ! I will never leave you !' Are you satisfied, Surry?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, filled with admiration by the proud and reso- 
 lute countenance of the young Moor; "he is a noble boy, and 
 you are happy in having so devoted an attache ! " 
 
 Mordaunt uttered a few words in Arabic, and again the boy 
 threw himself upon his knees, but this time with extravagant in- 
 dications of joy. Seizing Mordaunt's hand, he covered it with 
 kisses, and his eyes, as he raised them toward the face of his 
 master, were resplendent. 
 
 At a word from Mordaunt he retired, with a step as proud and 
 graceful as that of a young lion in his native desert; and, turning 
 to me, Mordaunt said : 
 
 " You see that the boy is disinterested." 
 
 " Yes, I no longer doubt." 
 
 " But I do not mean that ho would be a proper mate for a 
 young lady of Virginia. Miss Grafton appears to me to have 
 made a much more rational selection in Lieutenant Saltoun — if 
 such be her selection — I know nothing. He is a gentleman, and 
 there is no braver officer in this army." 
 
 The words were uttered with perfect coolness — not a muscle 
 of the proud face moved ; and, knowing Violet Grafton's secret, I 
 could not suppress a sentiment of deep sympathy for the beauti- 
 ful girl. To have placed her affections upon Mordaunt, that stern 
 and haughty spirit, and to have done so,, as his cold reference to 
 her probable marriage showed, with so little probability of in- 
 spiring him with a similar feeling ! I thought I saw impending 
 a tragedy as sorrowful as any in Hugo's volume. 
 
 From the fit of moody silence which these reflections occa-
 
 IN A CARRIAGE WINDOW. 359 
 
 sioned, I was aroused by the voice of ray host, who rose and in- 
 formed me that he must return to his command, which was mov- 
 ing on. Would I not accompany him, or spend the night at his 
 house ? 
 
 These offers I declined, alleging my short leave, and at the 
 door we mounted, to go different ways. 
 
 With a grasp of his strong hand, Mordaunt bade me farewell ; 
 and, touching his powerful horse with the spur, disappeared at 
 full gallop in the darkness. My own road led in the opposite 
 direction, and, gaining the Gap, I passed through, crossed the 
 Shenandoah, and by sunrise reached General Jackson's head- 
 quarters near Millwood. 
 
 CI. 
 
 IN A CARRIAGE WINDOW. 
 
 Millwood is a pleasant little village, dropped like a bird's-nest 
 in the midst of smiling fields and the foliage of noble forests. 
 The region around is charming — all flowers and pretty faces. 
 So at least it appeared to that bird of passage, Surry, who lightly 
 touched and went ; but not so quickly as to miss seeing the bright 
 eyes of maidens, true as steel in blood and heart and soul to the 
 cause of the South. 
 
 McOlellan had advanced, but Jackson had halted. While the 
 Federal commander was streaming toward the Rappahannock, 
 Jackson remained idle near Millwood. What did it mean ? I 
 did not know then, but now all is plain. With that dangerous 
 foe upon his flank, and in a position to strike his rear, McClellan 
 advanced with doubt and fear. Who could tell at what moment 
 the formidable Stonewall Jackson would put his column in mo- 
 tion, hasten through Ashby's Gap, and strike the Federal rear, 
 while Lee attacked in front ? 
 
 General McClellan, however, continued to move southward, 
 Lee everywhere facing him, when suddenly his head went to the 
 block, and General Ambrose Burnside reigned in his stead.
 
 360 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Thus made his final exit from the stage the greatest of the 
 Federal commanders. 
 
 " Off with his head ! So much for Buckingham !" 
 
 The days passed on, but we lingered still in this lovely land, 
 the Valley of the Shenandoah. Slowly the glories of the autumn 
 faded. The russet brown of winter came, and the trees, of late 
 so beautiful with their variegated trappings, began to be denuded 
 by the chill blasts preluding winter. But still the sunshine slept 
 serenely — dim, memorial, and pensive — on the yellow woods; 
 the wild geese made the far depths of the November heavens 
 musical with their plaintive cry ; and any one given to revery 
 and dreams might have found still in the noble forests haunts full 
 of quiet beauty, starred with wild autumn flowers, whero hour 
 after hour would glide by silently, and no sound would be heard 
 but the murmur of the Shenandoah, flowing to the Potomac, its 
 eternity. 
 
 This land and this people Jackson loved more than all the rest ; 
 and there was not a face that did not glow with pleasure, or an 
 eye that did not look brighter at his coming. His corps was full 
 of young men from this very region — the Second Regiment, in- 
 deed, was almost made up of brave youths born here — and their 
 mothers, sisters, and cousins constantly visited the camps. 
 
 With these, the famous General was an enormous favorite. 
 All the world admired his great achievements, but the people of 
 the Shenandoah Valley looked upon him as their own especial 
 hero, their great defender and beloved chieftain. Not the strong 
 men only, who had estimated coolly his grand military genius, 
 nor the matrons who had recognized in him the perfect type of 
 Christian manhood— it was the girls who, more than all, grew 
 wildly enthusiastic about the shy, retiring General Stonewall, in 
 his dingy old coat, his faded cap, his heavy boots — a figure so 
 unlike the young, flashing military heroes of the imagination! I 
 was riding with him in the neighborhood of Millwood one day, 
 when we passed a carriage full of young girls ; and I remember 
 bow one of them looked at the famous soldier. As he approach- 
 ed, the maiden leaned through the window, her cheeks glowing, 
 her eyes sparkling, and, ever as General Stonewall came, leaned
 
 IN A CARRIAGE WINDOW. 361 
 
 further still and further, with the same long, ardent gaze, "all 
 her soul in her eyes," until that look, as if by some irresistible 
 magnetism, drew his eyes to her glowing face. Wbat would you 
 give to be looked at in that manner by a Virginia girl, good 
 friend ? I tbink it would be better than to have a " brown-stone 
 front " on Fifth or any other avenue. 
 
 Jackson caught the flashing glance of the admiring eyes, col- 
 ored slightly, saluted, and rode on, followed bv those sparkling 
 eyes. At least she had seen him ! 
 
 From the woods below Millwood the General moved his head- 
 quarters to a picturesque spot called " The Glen," near an old 
 house known as "Saratoga." Here, for a brief space, the white 
 tents glittered on the greensward in the sunshine, and the quiet 
 scene was full of couriers, noise, hoof-strokes, rattling sabres, and 
 floating plumes. 
 
 Then all this pa&sed away. The tents disappeared, and silence 
 again reigned in the secluded glen of " Saratoga." 
 
 Jackson was on the march. 
 
 The Federal army, under its new commander, General Burn- 
 side, had continued to advance toward the Rappahannock. Soon 
 vigorous attempts were made to cross the upper waters ; but 
 everywhere the blue column found in its path the serried ranks 
 of Lee. To cross the river in face of the great captain was a 
 hazardous affair ; and Burnside ehanged the direction of his 
 march, and turned the head of his column toward Fredericks- 
 burg. 
 
 When he reached the heights on the Rappahannock opposite 
 that town, there was General Lee still facing h im. 
 
 Such was the condition of things about the 1st of December, 
 when any one who had been in the woods which cover the long 
 crest of hills along the Massaponnax, near Fredericksburg, might 
 have heard an echoing shout whieh rang for miles, and seemed to 
 indicate the reception of some joyful intelligence by the men of 
 Longstreet. 
 
 The long-continued cheering was succeeded by the glitter of 
 bayonets, the tramp of Jackson's veterans. 
 
 He had marched from Millwood up the Valley, passed the 
 16
 
 362 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Massinutton and Blue Ridge at Newmarket and Thornton's Gaps, 
 descended from the mountains, and, traversing Orange, followed 
 the plank road through the Wilderness to the woods of the Mas- 
 saponnax. 
 
 Taking his position on the right of Longstreet's corps, Jacksoa 
 prepared for another conflict ; and it soon took place. 
 
 His presence meant combat and victory. 
 
 on. 
 
 PROM THE HILLS OF THE MASSAPONNAX. 
 
 The region around the hospitable old town of Fredericksburg 
 is charming in the spring and summer. Even when I saw it 
 first, at the end of fall, it was beautiful and attractive. 
 
 Come with me, worthy reader, and, instead of giving you an 
 " official account " of how the great battle was fought, I will 
 point out to you some features of the landscape. 
 
 "We are standing on the long wooded crest which sweeps from 
 the Rappahannock above, in front of the old town, and sinks into 
 the plain near Hamilton's Crossing. In front of us is an ex- 
 tensive " bottom," traversed by a run, very deep, and with pre- 
 cipitous banks. Behind these banks the Federal infantry are 
 going to take refuge from the Southern shot and shell. Beyond 
 flows the river, and upon its southern bank you see the white 
 spires and old-fashioned houses of Fredericksburg, soon to be 
 torn by cannon-balls. Look now to the left. Yonder is Marye's 
 Hill, which the Irish Brigade is going to charge with reckless 
 gallantry, strewing the ground with their dead, as the merciless 
 canister is hurled upon them ; and below the hill, the low stone 
 wall where Barksdale will re-form his line when the enemy cross ; 
 and Generals Cobb and Cooke will fall at the same moment — one 
 of them killed, and the other dangerously wounded. 
 
 Along the crest, from Marye's Tlill eastward, you see the em- 
 battled lines of Longstreet, flanked with cannon. On his 
 right, extending to Hamilton's Crossing, is the corps of Jack-
 
 THE HILLS OF THE MASSAPONNAX. 363 
 
 son, bristling with artillery, posted upon every hillock, especially 
 above the crossing, where the battalions of Walker wait, ready 
 to sweep the plain, when General Franklin rushes forward to 
 turn Lee's right and drive him back. 
 
 Still further to tfie right you see the extensive plain which 
 stretches along the Massaponnax, emptying below into the Rap- 
 pahannock. The level roads are skirted by deep ditches and 
 long rows of beautiful cedars. In those ditches the Federal 
 sharpshooters are going to crouch, within one hundred yards of 
 the muzzles of our cannon, and pick off the cannoneers in spite 
 of all the canister which sweeps above them, tearing through 
 the cedars. 
 
 In the woods beyond, Stuart's cavalry will be drawn up, ready 
 to take part in the battle, if the Southern flank is turned ; and 
 in the great field on Jackson's right, Stuart will mass his artil- 
 lery, and — debarred from charging with his horsemen by the 
 yawning ditches — show, by the stubborn, daring, and invincible 
 handling of his pieces, that, if he were not the most famous of 
 all cavalry commanders, he would be one of the greatest of 
 artillerists. 
 
 One feature of the landscape we have not yet noted — the 
 heights beyond the river yonder. That house upon the hill, 
 where the banner of the stars and stripes is rippling in the wind, 
 is " Chatham " — and some Federal general has taken it for his 
 head-quarters. Those blue specks upon the northern bank are 
 "Yankee pickets." See that blue horseman riding along the 
 crest — it is an officer reconnoitring. 
 
 On the 11th of December — was it not? — the great struggle 
 began. 
 
 At daylight, the Federal pioneers, as busy as beavers, were 
 heard putting together the pontoons, in the fog, opposite the 
 town ; and, in spite of a rapid fire from Barksdale's brave 
 Mississippians, who held the town, the bridges were built, and a 
 column was thrown across. 
 
 Barksdale retreated, fighting from street to street ; and soon 
 the thunder of artillery began. Shot and shell raked the streets 
 of the town, tearing down the chimneys and riddling the
 
 364: SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 houses ; but Barksdale held his ground — and it was not until an 
 overpowering force of infantry assailed him that he doggedly 
 retired behind the stone wall beneath Marye's Hill. 
 
 All day the unfortunate town was heavily bombarded. More 
 than one hundred guns was fired every minute. 
 
 As night descended, the glare of burning houses, set on fire by 
 shell, lit up the landscape ; and the sullen roar of an occasional 
 gun seemed to indicate that the ire of the assailants was not 
 sated. 
 
 That bitter December night the roads were full of women, 
 many of them with bare feet, who carried in their arms their 
 infants. They had hastily fled, and, in the corners of fences, or 
 beneath the bleak winter trees, shivered till morning. 
 
 When the sun rose, the Federal army was drawn up upon the 
 southern bank. 
 
 General Lee had made no movement to prevent them from 
 crossing. 
 
 cm. 
 
 "IT IS WELL THIS IS SO TERRIBLE— WE WOULD GROW 
 
 TOO FOND OF IT!" 
 
 Before dawn on the morning of the great conflict, Jackson 
 was in the saddle, and, joining General Lee, rode to the right to 
 reconnoitre. 
 
 He was dressed, on this day, in an entirely new suit. His 
 overcoat was dark blue, lined with red ; his cap blazing with 
 gold lace ; his uniform-coat, which Stuart had given him in the 
 "Valley, flaming with its new brass buttons. 
 
 The troops scarcely knew him, and, when he had passed one 
 of his regiments, a soldier was heard to say : 
 
 "That finely-dressed officer Old Jack ? No, sir /" 
 
 Below the Crossing we met Stuart, and the three generals 
 rode down the "stage road," to reconnoitre. The enemy 
 were already advancing through the fog, and very soon the whiz
 
 "IT IS WELL," ETC. 365 
 
 of bullets indicated that the Federal sharpshootei s had descried 
 the dusky figures. 
 
 Stuart gave an order, and a piece of artillery was seen moving 
 across the field to the right. Soon its thunders were heard, and 
 a Federal battery in front replied. 
 
 The three generals now rode to the top of the hill above 
 Hamilton's Crossing. From the right came the steady and con- 
 tinuous roar of the single gun— under Pelham — sent thither by 
 Stuart. About three batteries, a few hundred yards in its front, 
 had opened upon it ; and an enfilading fire was raking the field 
 from thirty-pound Parrotts across the river. But Pelham fought 
 on. 
 
 General Lee looked in the direction of the fire. 
 
 "It is glorious to see such courage in one so young," he said. 
 
 And, in his official dispatch, he immortalized the young Alaba- 
 mian by speaking of him as "the gallant Pelham." To be the 
 sole officer below the rank of Major-General mentioned by Lee 
 — and to be called " the gallant Pelham !" 
 
 That is better than a scrawl from any war department ! 
 
 As the dense fog lifted, and the sun shone through it, the dark 
 Federal lines rushed forward across the plain, and charged 
 Jackson's front with desperation. 
 
 They were met with a murderous fire of musketry; the guns 
 ou the crest above opened all at once their iron mouths, and 
 the battle began to rage with fury. 
 
 The column which assailed the right wing, under Jackson, 
 numbered fifty-five thousand men, under Generals Franklin 
 Hooker, and others — see their reports. At Sharpsburg, McClel- 
 lan decided to overwhelm Lee's left, and was met by Jackson. 
 At Fredericksburg, General Burnside decided to flank and drive 
 back Lee's right, and found Jackson in his way. 
 
 If that assault had succeeded, Lee's right would have been 
 turned, his line forced back, and the enemy would have stormed 
 his position. 
 
 It failed. Jackson met it with his first line. This was broken 
 through, and he met it with his second, which completely re- 
 pulsed the assault. D. H. Hill's reserve was not engaged.
 
 366 SURKY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Jackson's whole force in the fight was less than fifteen thou- 
 sand. 
 
 This hattle was a remarkable one. The Federal troops fought 
 hard, hut apparently without heart. At one time they seemed 
 about to carry the hill — but those who had rushed up the slope 
 were driven back with the bayonet. 
 
 Meanwhile Stuart, in the great field beyond the Crossing, was 
 fighting about thirty pieces of artillery, with desperation. Pel- 
 ham commanded under him, and fought like a veteran of a hun- 
 dred battles. Behind the woods, near by, the long line of 
 cavalry waited to take part in the action if the right was 
 turned. 
 
 Jackson had just brought up his second line to repulse the 
 enemy, who had broken through his first, as I have said, when I 
 was sent to General Lee with a message. 
 
 I found him on the eminence in front of Longstreet's line, now 
 known as " Lee's Hill," and was much impressed by his perfect 
 calmness, as I have everywhere been. As I turned away after 
 delivering my message, loud cheers came from the right, and, 
 looking across the plain, I saw the Federal line rapidly falling 
 back, hotly pursued by Jackson's troops, firing volleys as they 
 rushed forward. 
 
 General Lee's face filled with blood, and his eye flashed. 
 Turning to one of his generals, who stood near, he said, as he 
 drew his old riding-cape around his shoulders : 
 
 " It is well this is so terrible — we would grow too fond of 
 it I"* 
 
 Those deep-toned words still ring in my ears. 
 
 When I reached the crest above Hamilton's Crossing again, I 
 found Jackson directing the fire of his artillery on the slope of 
 the crest. I had never seen him more thoroughly aroused. 
 His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glowed. The murderous 
 five of shot and shell which swept the crest from the crowd- 
 ing batteries of the enemy in front seemed to produce no 
 effect upon him, although men and horses were falling every 
 minute. 
 
 * Tlis words.
 
 •'IT IS WELL, 1 ' ETC. 367 
 
 As I made my report, a shell crashed through a caisson, with- 
 in twenty yards, and it blew up with a noise like thunder. 
 Jackson did not move a muscle. 
 
 "Major," he said, in his brief accents, ''present my compli- 
 ments to General Stuart, and tell him I am going to advance and 
 attack with the bayonet precisely at sunset. I wish him to 
 advance his artillery as far as possible, and continue the fire. 
 Desire him not to fire too much to the left — he may injure my 
 men."* 
 
 I found Stuart in the great field, swept by a tempest of shell, 
 superintending the fire of his artillery. 
 
 The ditches in his immediate front were full of Federal sharp- 
 shooters, who kept up a galling fire upon the cannoneers, at close 
 and deadly range. A bullet had cut off a lock of Stuart's hair 
 and as I was speaking with him two others struck his saddle 
 and military satchel. 
 
 When I delivered my message his face glowed. 
 
 I was about to ride off when a courier galloped up from Gene- 
 ral W. H. F. Lee, I think, and said something which I did not 
 hear. 
 
 Stuart's blue eyes flashed. 
 
 "Tell the General all's well," he said, " and that I am going 
 to crowd 'em with artillery !"t 
 
 As I rode back, expecting at every instant to be hurled from 
 the saddle by the round-shot which swept the plain, I saw the 
 sun poised like a ball of fire upon the woods, and then to the 
 right and left, from Jackson and Stuart, came the redoubled 
 thunders of the charge. The artillery was charging as well as 
 the infantry, and the dusky plains, upon which the shades of 
 night began to descend, became the scene of a desperate and 
 6anguinary struggle. 
 
 It was soon decided. As night fell, the enemy retreated from 
 Jackson's front, and Stuart pushed forward, "crowding 'em 
 with artillery," as he had promised. Soon only a sullen gun at 
 intervals replied — darkness descended, and the bloody fight had 
 ended. 
 
 * His words. t His words.
 
 368 SURRY OF EAGLE'S NEST. 
 
 In front of Marye's Hill, the Federal assault had been re 
 pulsed, as upon the right — and though for some reason which 
 I never could clearly understand, Jackson did not make his 
 intended charge with the bayonet and drive the enemy into the 
 river, the victory was none the less perfect. 
 
 General Lee had here thrown into action — counting the 
 forces fighting in every portion of the field — less than twenty- 
 five thousand men in all. Against his right alone, the enemy 
 had thrown a column of fifty -five thousand men, under one of their 
 ablest generals — as the testimony of General Burnside before the 
 Committee of Investigation shows. 
 
 "Why was a force so considerable unable to drive Jackson from 
 his position? I know not — I only know that they did not. 
 
 When the sun went down upon the battle-field, General Lee 
 regarded the attack as only the prelude of a more determined 
 assault on the next morning — his repulse of the Federal forces a 
 mere incident of the drama. 
 
 He had achieved a complete victory.* 
 
 CIY. 
 
 PELHAM AND JEAN. 
 
 Night had fallen, and the weary troops slept on their arms, 
 awaiting the more decisive attack which they expected on the 
 next day. 
 
 Along the narrow and winding road which led in rear of the 
 line of battle from Hamilton's Crossing to General Lee's head- 
 quarters, near the Telegraph road, couriers came and went, bear- 
 ing dispatches or orders. 
 
 Jackson was up during the whole night; and about midnight 
 an orderly woke me, to say that the General wished to see me. 
 I immediately repaired to his tent, and found him busily writing 
 — his candle having been carefully shaded, so as not to throw its 
 light upon the eyes or a friend who that night shared his bed. 
 
 * The incidents of this chapter are all historical
 
 PELHAM AND JEAN. 369 
 
 Before the General had finished the sentence which he was 
 writing, the sound of horse's hoofs was heard without, and the 
 orderly came to say that an officer wished to see him. 
 
 " Come in," was the reply. 
 
 And a young officer entered, and saluted. 
 
 "General," he said, "I am sent by General Gregg, who was 
 mortally wounded to-day, to say on his part, that in a recent 
 letter he wrote you, which you considered disrespectful, he had 
 no intention of wounding your feelings, but was actuated solely 
 by what he believed to be the good of the service. He is now 
 dying, and begs your forgiveness." 
 
 The young man again saluted, and waited hat in hand. 
 
 Jackson rose quickly, and his face exhibited strong feeling. 
 
 " Tell General Gregg I will be with him immediately," he said ; 
 and, summoning his servant, he ordered his horse to be saddled 
 at once. 
 
 As soon as the animal was ready he mounted, and, making a 
 sign to me to follow him, rode rapidly, guided by the young 
 officer, to General Gregg's head-quarters. 
 
 Dismounting hastily in front of the tent occupied by the 
 wounded soldier, he entered it alone — upon this interview I felt 
 that no one should intrude. I only saw, as the tent-flap fell, a 
 pale face, some bleeding bandages, and a weak hand held out, as 
 Jackson, with flushed face, hastened to the sufferer's side.* Then 
 the canvas fell. 
 
 What took place on that dark night, between the great leader 
 and the noble soldier who did not wish to die without his for- 
 giveness? I know not. But, when Jackson at length came out, 
 there were traces of tears in his eyes, and for some time he rode 
 on in silence. As he went on through the darkness, I saw him 
 more than once raise his right arm aloft, with that singular ges- 
 ture habitual to him, and look upward, with lips moving. He 
 was praying for the friend about to die. 
 
 At last he seemed to banish these gloomy feelings, and by an 
 effort of the will return to the hard routine of business. 
 
 * Historical. 
 15*
 
 370 SURET OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Major," he said, "I wish you to ride to General Stuart's 
 head-quarters, and request him to send Major Pelham to me. I 
 have special need for him to-night, and T beg you will not return 
 without him." 
 
 I saluted, and immediately set out for "Camp No-Camp," the 
 head-quarters of Stuart, on the Telegraph road, near General 
 Lee's quarters. 
 
 I was there informed that Major Pelham had not yet returned 
 from the field, and that I would probably find him at the bivouac 
 of his horse artillery, somewhere in the fields beyond Hamilton's 
 Crossing. 
 
 This was somewhat discouraging, as an additional ride of 
 three or four miles on a freezing cold night was before me ; but 
 it had to be taken, and, wrapping my cape around my face to 
 shield it from the bitter wind, I rode on and soon reached the 
 Crossing. 
 
 Across the bare bleak fields, which had been so lately swept 
 by a hurricane of shell, glimmered the dying light of camp-fires; 
 and after much delay I succeeded in finding the spot where Pel- 
 ham's artillery had camped — that is, halted the pieces, and built 
 fires of rails. 
 
 Around one of these fires, which threw its ruddy glare on the 
 grim cannon near, and the weary horses tethered to the wheels, 
 was a group of rudely-dressed men, among whom I recognized 
 Antonio, Rossini, Dominic, and other members of the " Napoleon 
 Detachment," which had fought their Napoleon, singing the loud 
 Marseillaise, that day of the attack near The Oaks, i 
 
 In the centre of the group I saw Pelham — the fire clearly 
 lighting up his slender figure and beardless face. He was kneel- 
 ing upon one knee and supporting upon his breast the bleeding 
 form of a boy of fifteen, who had been nearly torn to pieces by a 
 fragment of shell, and was evidently dying. 
 
 The poor boy was plainly suffering agonies from his mortal 
 wound, which a surgeon had rudely bandaged ; and his exclama- 
 tions in French and broken English were touching. 
 
 '■'•Jesus Seigneur/''' he exclaimed, in heart-rending accents, as 
 I drew near, " I suffer ! — how I suffer, mon capitaine /"
 
 PELHAM AND JEAN. 371 
 
 And raising his head, which rested upon Pelham's breast, he 
 gazed on the young officer's face with a look so helpless and ap- 
 pealing, that the quick tears started to my eyes. 
 
 "Try to bear it, Jean," said Pelhani, in a low voice, "you are 
 among your friends — you know we love you " — 
 
 There he broke down, and, turning away his head, uttered a 
 sob. The rude cannoneers around looked grimly on, silent be- 
 fore the scene. 
 
 " Oh ! to die !" murmured the wounded boy, sinking back in 
 Pelham's arms, "to die, and I so young! What will mother 
 say? — ma mere ! — it will kill her! You, too, mon capitaine /" 
 he added sobbing, " you, too, will be sorry for the pauvre Jean, 
 will you not? I followed you from Alabama — I have fought 
 with you in so many battles! — and one day — holdl I die with 
 that at my heart, mon capitaine ! — one day you said to me, 
 ' Brave Jean /' Yes, you said that — did you not? 1 ' 
 
 And, half rising from the earth, the boy threw back his head, 
 and clung with both arms around Pelham's neck. 
 
 "You called me orate — it is enough!" he murmured. "Tell 
 ma mere! fought like a good soldier, mon capitaine! — that 
 you were satisfied with Jean ! He dies loving you — the brave 
 of braves — his dear, his only friend ! When you go back to our 
 home in Alabama, tell them all, that Jean fought under you, and 
 did his duty. ' Brave Jean /' you said. mon Dieu ! I suffer 
 so — but — and — I die — in your arms, mon capitaine /" 
 
 The head fell back, and the pale lips uttered their last sigh. 
 But, even in death, the boy's arms clung around Pelham's neck 
 — his face rested on his bosom. 
 
 The rough group stirred and murmured. 
 
 " Grand Dieu ! — he is gone !" muttered the swarthy Antonio. 
 
 " II est mort /" echoed Rossini, making the sign of the cross. 
 
 Pelham gently unclasped the cold arms of the boy, and laid 
 the stiffening form upon the grass. His face was wet with tears, 
 and, when some of the men spoke to him, he waved them off 
 with his hand. 
 
 For some moments he stood gazing into the fire, from which 
 his glance would turn toward the body of Jean.
 
 372 SURRY OF EAGLE'S- N EST. 
 
 " Poor boy !" he murmured, passing his hand across his eyes, 
 "he loved me. There was nobody braver!" 
 
 There he stopped. But in a few moments he had mastered his 
 emotion, and turned to me. I delivered my message, and, after 
 giving directions for the burial of Jean, Pelham called for his 
 horse. 
 
 " Poor Jean !" I heard him murmur again ; " what can I say 
 to his mother when I go back to Alabama ! " 
 
 All at once he went to where the body of the young cannoneer 
 was lying, and, stooping down, cut off a lock of his light, curling 
 hair, and carefully placed it in his breast-pocket. 
 
 " It will be something," he said. 
 
 And he mounted his horse and rode with me back to Jackson's 
 head-quarters. 
 
 I recall still, and could easily repeat, our conversation as we 
 rode on through the darkness ; but all do not take that loving 
 interest in Pelham's memory which I do. Every word he uttered 
 then, and always, is engraved upon my memory, and I recall, 
 with a sad and longing sense of loss, a feeling of bereavement 
 which nothing can satisfy, the hours I passed with him — his 
 voice, his eyes, his smiles. 
 
 "We reached Jackson's head-quarters, and Pelham was received 
 with that cordial pressure of the hand which the General be- 
 stowed upon those who were favorites with him. I knew the 
 opinion which he had formed of Pelham, from their first meet- 
 ing on the day of Cold Harbor, and now saw that Jackson had a 
 higher regard for him than ever. 
 
 His object in sending for the young artillerist was a proof of 
 this. He wished him to direct and superintend, in person, the 
 fortification of his line for the next day's battle ; * and, as soon 
 as he had possessed .himself of the General's views, Pelham en- 
 ergetically applied himself to the work. JJeavy details were 
 placed at his orders ; he superintended and directed the work 
 throughout the night, without further orders; and at dawn the 
 task waa finished. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 "CAMP NO-CAMP." 373 
 
 When Jackson Inspected, in the morning, the defences which 
 had thus arisen like magic, he said to General Stuart, who ac- 
 companied him : 
 
 " Have you another Pelham, General ? If so, I wish you 
 would give him to me !" * 
 
 Those works saved hundreds of lives during the cannonade, 
 which soon began ; but they were not to have their value tested 
 by a charge of the enemy's infantry. That attack of the pre- 
 ceding day had been the decisive assault, and the Federal forces 
 could not be brought up again. General Burnside directed a 
 Becond attack, but his ablest and most determined major-generals 
 went to him and protested against the order, declaring that the 
 troops could not be induced to make the assault— their morale 
 was destroyed. See the testimony of General Burnside. 
 
 All day on Sunday and Monday the dense masses of the 
 Federal army remained in line of battle on the Southern shore 
 of the Rappahannock, their bands playing, their flags floating, 
 their artillery in position for a renewal of the assault. 
 
 On Tuesday morning they had disappeared. 
 
 Thus ended the campaign of 1862. 
 
 cv. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OP "CAMP NO-CAMP." 
 
 "We spent the winter of 1862 at Moss Neck, an old mansion oa 
 the crest of hills which stretches along the Rappahannock, 
 several miles below Fredericksburg. 
 
 Jackson's sojourn there will form a pleasant chapter in that 
 life of him which, sooner or later, will be written by a competent 
 person. 
 
 He occupied first a small outbuilding — a sort of office — hung 
 round with pictures of race-horses, game-cocks, and terriers 
 tearing rats. One day when Stuart came to see the General, he 
 said: 
 
 • Hia word*.
 
 374 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I intend to have a drawing made of this room — game-cocks, 
 terriers, and all — and label it, " View of the head-quarters of the 
 famous Stonewall Jackson, showing the tastes and propensities oj 
 the individual /" 
 
 At these jests of the great cavalier, Jackson always laughed 
 heartily. He had conceived a very great regard and affection for 
 Stuart — as a cavalry officer, he ranked him above all others in 
 that arm of the service. 
 
 Does the reader remember that fine cap worn at the battle 
 of Fredericksburg, with its band of gold lace ? It was soon 
 denuded of its decoration. One day a little girl admired it, and, 
 drawing her to him, Jackson tore off the rich braid, placed it 
 like a coronet upon her curls, and enjoyed the delight which 
 his gift occasioned the child. 
 
 But these traits of the illustrious soldier will all, some day, be 
 delineated fully. I am not writing a life of General Jackson, 
 but the memoirs of Lieutenant-Colonel Surry. 
 
 " Lieutenant- Colonel Surry?" I think I hear the reader 
 exclaim: "Is there not a slight mistake?" Not at all, 
 may it please the worthy reader. About this time General 
 Jackson was made Lieutenant-General ; his staff went up 
 one grade; and it seemed good to the "War Department to 
 send Major Surry the appointment of Lieutenant-Colonel and 
 A. A. G. — than which rank he never got any further during the 
 war. 
 
 So, after all that hard marching of the year 1862, we were 
 resting. It had been a memorable year, full of the thunder of 
 artillery, the crash of small arms, the clatter of sabres, the 
 cheers, yells, shouts, and groans of adversaries closing in the 
 breast-to-breast struggle — and I think that both sides were glad 
 to rest. It had been the first decisive trial of strength upon the 
 whole great arena of Virginia; and the opponents seemed to 
 have exhausted themselves. On the Federal side, scarcely a 
 single commander who had met Jackson remained. Generals 
 Banks, Shields, Fremont, Milroy, Pope, McClellan, and Bum- 
 side had all disappeared. The baton had dropped from their 
 hands — their heads fallen — they had vanished from all eyes, amid
 
 "CAMP NO-CAMP." 375 
 
 the smoke of disaster and defeat. Lee and Jackson still stood 
 immovable on the banks of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Had the country been as resolute as the army and the women, 
 the red battle-Hag would float there still, instead of drooping 
 yonder, furled, with no hand to give it to the winds — furled and 
 dragged in the dust of defeat, but glorious forever ! 
 
 During the winter I spent some days, on furlough, at Eagle's- 
 Nest ; and whom should I meet there but a youth named 
 Charles Beverley — evidently intent on the capture of Miss Annie 
 Surry ! 
 
 Charley's regiment was encamped not far from Port Royal, 
 and I strongly suspect that the youth was frequently absent 
 from roll-call, without the shadow of permission ! He seemed 
 to think, however, that his hours at Eagle's-Nest more than 
 counterbalanced " extra duty" in the way of punishment — and I 
 soon saw that Annie had made up her youthful mind. 
 
 They are married now, reader, and Charley is a model hus- 
 band. So they vanish ! 
 
 About the same time came the news of Will's marriage with 
 Jenny Clayton ! That young lady had captured him — as Annie 
 had captured Charley — and a gilt-edged note, with a request for 
 the pleasure of our company, came by flag of truce, through the 
 lines ! "Will had written on it: " How are you, brother ? I am 
 bagged at last!" — and he wrote the other day that Jenny was 
 the pearl of her sex. 
 
 But I am getting ahead too fast. Let me return to the old 
 days, and recall some of the faces and scenes which illustrated 
 them. 
 
 I was often at the jovial head-quarters of Stuart, on the Tele- 
 graph road, a few miles from Fredericksburg. His flag had 
 been erected in a great field of broom-straw, sheltered by a 
 thicket of pines from the chill northwest winds ; and against 
 the evergreens shone the white tents of the General and his 
 Btaif. In front of the head-quarters was a beautiful little 
 " Whitworth " gun of burnished steel — slender, delicate, and 
 graceful as a girl. Above stretched the arms of a great oak. 
 The horses were picketed beneath the pines, or in rude stables.
 
 376 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Couriers came and went. The red battle-flag fluttered in the 
 frosty breeze. From the large tent in the pines came the so- 
 norous voice or the ringing laughter of Stuart, that "flower 
 of cavaliers." 
 
 In my visits I constantly saw something new in this man to 
 admire and love. He had the gayest humor, the warmest 
 heart, and the most generous temper. He possessed the rough 
 cavalry tendency to jests and practical jokes : would tease you, if 
 he could, upon any subject, and raise the laugh at your expense 
 without hesitation : — but you were welcome to "strike back," 
 and as roughly as you could. It was give-and-take with the 
 trenchant swordsman, and you could not offend him. Writing 
 busily at his desk — then rising to walk up and down and hum a 
 song — lounging idly upon his bed spread on the ground, and 
 playing with his pets, two young setters he had brought in front 
 of him on his saddle, when he fell back from Culpepper — laugh- 
 ing, jesting with his staff — so passed the hours of winter with 
 the brave cavalier at " Camp No-Camp." 
 
 When weary of work or talk, he would mount one of his 
 horses, "Lady Margaret" or "Star of the East," and set off 
 to serenade some lady — taking Sweeny along, with his banjo. 
 
 For Sweeny was there ! — Sweeny in all his glory — with a new 
 "Yankee banjo," the spoil of some captured camp, which he 
 forced to give forth now the gay songs of Dixie! It was 
 " The bonnie blue flag," and " We are the boys that rode around 
 McClelKan," and " I wish I was in Dixie," which Sweeny 
 played and sang, with his sad and courteous face unmoved by 
 the mirth; and these were always succeeded by "Sweet Eve- 
 lina," " Faded Flowers," " I lay ten dollars down," and the 
 " Old Gray Hoss " — perennial favorites with the denizens of 
 " Camp No-Camp." 
 
 You can see the worthy Sweeny — can you not, my dear 
 reader ? — sitting there at the corner of the fireplace in the large 
 tent, his banjo on his knee, his fingers flying over the strings, 
 his foot keeping time, and only the ghost of a smile upon his 
 face as he advises you, "if you want to have a good time," to 
 " jine the cavalry!"
 
 "CAMP NO-CAMP." 377 
 
 And look! at the door yonder! Is not that gigantic figure, 
 with the flowing black beard, our old friend Hagan — Corporal 
 Hagan no longer, as his braid of a lieutenant shows? It is 
 Hagan, now lieutenant of the escort, and behind him are tbo 
 keen faces of Moonshine and Snakebug, couriers — with the 
 hawk look, keener even than Captain Bogy's for wagons, 
 spoils, and plunder generally. Hagan advances, salutes the 
 general and company with rigid military respect, and is soon 
 engaged in parrying the thrusts of the general's wit. lie 
 relates as a pleasing incident — with lurking humor in his eye 
 and a voice like low thunder — how Moonshine, in an absent 
 moment, appropriated Snakebug's blanket; how Snakebug re- 
 covered his property in his friend's absence, and accidentally 
 bore off Moonshine's boots, thereby " getting the dead-wood 
 on Moonshine;" — and then Hagan shakes all over with merri- 
 ment, the general laughs, Sweeny's banjo roars, a negro dances 
 a breakdown, amid shouts of applause, and the cavalry head- 
 quarters are in a state of perfect enjoyment. 
 
 There too was Pelham, now Stuart's chief of artillery ; and 
 Farley, the celebrated partisan of South Carolina, one of his aides. 
 
 Stuart! Pelham! Farley! How many memories do these 
 words recall ! As I murmur them I seem to hear again the ac- 
 cents of the noble voices ; to press the friendly hands — to greet 
 the dear dead comrades sleeping their last sleep ! 
 
 Pelham, the brave, the true, the kindly, gentle spirit — I never 
 knew a human being of more stubborn nerve, or shrinking mod- 
 esty, nis blue eye never fell before the stare of peril, but often 
 when you spoke to him. His color never faded in the hottest 
 hours of the most desperate fighting ; but a word would often 
 confuse him, and make him blush like a girl. A native of the 
 great State of Alabama, he had the warm blood of the South in 
 his young veins ; but I think he had come to love Virginia and 
 the faces here with a love as warm as that of her own children. 
 Virginia certainly loved him, her boy defender ; but it was im- 
 possible to know him and not love him. In that light blue eye 
 was the soul of truth and chivalry. The smooth, boyish face 
 was the veritable mirror of high breeding, delicacy, and honor.
 
 378 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I never knew a comrade more attractive — with a more delight- 
 ful gayety, naturalness, and abandon. Quick to resent an insult, 
 or to meet defiance with defiance, he was never irritable, and 
 hid the sweetness and good-humor of a child — suspecting noth- 
 ing, and fearing no offence. Ilis modesty did not change after 
 Fredericksburg, and when the whole army rang with that mag- 
 nificent compliment paid to the boy by the commander-in-chief, 
 in calling him " the gallant Pelham." His spirit was too proud 
 and noble to be touched by arrogance. He was still the modest, 
 simple, laughing boy — with his charming gayety, his caressing 
 voice, and his sunny smile. On the slightest provocation, the 
 smooth cheeks were covered with the blush of diffidence. He 
 never spoke of his own achievements ; and you would not have 
 known, had you been with him for a whole month, that he had 
 ever taken part in a single action. In Maryland, an old farmer 
 looked at his beardless face, his girlish smile, his slender figure, 
 and said to General Stuart, " Can these toys fight ?" 
 
 And yet this "boy," so young in years, was old in toils, in 
 marches, in hard combats, and desperate encounters. That light, 
 blue eye had looked unmoved upon the bloody scenes of the 
 first Manassas, Williamsburg, Cold Harbor, the second Manassas, 
 Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, and those stubborn fights in which 
 Stuart's cavalry — unknown almost to the infantry — were con- 
 stantly engaged. This boy had fought his guns, at both battles 
 of Manassas, till the enemy were at their very muzzles ; had held 
 his ground with one Napoleon, at Cold Harbor, against the hur- . 
 ricane of shot and shell poured on him from the batteries near 
 McGee's house ; had commanded all the artillery on the left at 
 Sharpsburg ; held the ford at Shepherdstown, driving back, 
 hour after hour, the heavy masses of the enemy ; and at Freder- 
 icksburg had fought with that stubborn persistence, that uncon- 
 querable nerve, which made the silent and unexcitable com- 
 mander-in-chief exclaim : 
 
 " It is glorious to see such courage in one so young !" 
 Such was his record — such the career of this shrinking 
 youth, who blushed when you spoke to him. Stuart loved him 
 like a brother, and after his death, when I was speaking one day
 
 "CAMP NO-CAMP." 379 
 
 of him, the tears came to the eyes of the great cavalier, and he 
 turned away, unable to utter a word. He is dead now ; his voice 
 will never more be heard — his laugh never sound again. He was 
 nothing to you, it may be, good reader — you never heard of him, 
 perhaps ; or his name was only that of a brave boy who fought 
 his guns with dauntless courage upon many bloody battle-fields. 
 To me he was more. It was a friend of my heart that passed 
 away when Pelham fell — a comrade whom I loved, and who 
 loved me. When he passed from earth, amid that thunder of 
 artillery which he loved, the world somehow seemed drearier, 
 and the sunshine not so bright. The song of the birds was mu- 
 sical no more ; the glory of existence seemed to fade ; Pelham 
 was dead, and there was no one left to take his place ! 
 
 Observe how my memory leads me back to those old days, and 
 makes me linger in the haunted domain of the past — reviving the 
 gallant figures, listening again to the brave voices, and living 
 once more in the bright hours that are dead ! 
 
 But what is left to us poor " paroled prisoners," except mem- 
 ory ? Leave us that, at least, as we look upon the red battle- 
 flag, drooping from its staff, after so many splendid victories ; 
 leave us this poor consolation of recalling the grand figures and 
 bright hours of the past ! 
 
 Stuart, Pelham — both are dead now ; and Farley, too, has 
 passed away, the bravest of the brave. I never saw his face be- 
 fore the war, nor until the spring of 1862 ; but often I had heard 
 of a young man in the Army of the Potomac who had made him- 
 self famous by his fearless scouting, his cool self-possession in 
 the hottest hours of battle, and his long, solitary expeditions into 
 the enemy's lines. I figured to myself, as I heard of his strange 
 adventures, his desperate combats, a rough, unpolished partisan, 
 with the instincts of a tiger and the manners of a bear; but 
 when I came to know him upon General Stuart's staff — here is 
 what I saw : 
 
 A young man of twenty -five or six, of medium height ; athletic, 
 but graceful figure ; soft dark eyes, low musical voice, and girlish 
 gentleness — there was Farley. He wore a sort of surtout of 
 dark cloth, around which was buckled constantly a belt contain-
 
 380 SUREY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 ing his pistol ; handsome cavalry boots, and a brown hat with 
 a black feather. Sometimes he donned a splendid suit of Federal 
 blue — shoulder-straps and all — captured in the head-quarters of 
 General Casey at " Seven Pines;" but this was only by way of 
 amusement. His horse, his arms, his boots, his saddle, his belt, 
 his gauntlets, his hat — all were captured. He lived on the 
 enemy — despoiled them of all he needed : he had no commission, 
 drew no pay, and was poor, like all of us; but he wanted 
 nothing. The enemy supplied him. 
 
 When he needed any thing— a horse, a pistol, an " officer's 
 McOlellan saddle " — or when the repose of head-quarters had 
 become tedious — he set out by himself, or with a small detail of 
 men, upon a private raid. Somewhere beyond the Rappahan- 
 nock he was sure to find the enemy ; and he was as certain to 
 attack them. The bang of revolvers, the clash of sabres, the 
 cheer of defiance — then Farley retired, laughing in his silent 
 way, with his horses, arms, and saddles. He came back looking 
 better satisfied ; and waited for the next occasion. 
 
 But I am lingering too long. The memory of this brave and 
 gentle cavalier leads me back to those old days when I knew 
 him. At " Camp No-Camp " I first became his friend. It was 
 impossible to imagine any one with a sweeter temper or a more 
 winning address. The soft dark eyes were full of gentleness and 
 candor ; the smile upon the lips, shaded with a black mustache, 
 was charming ; and the low, measured voice like music to the 
 ear. Often we wandered over the great fields of broom-straw 
 sighing in the winds of winter; and in these walks Farley told 
 me all his life. It was a brave, true heart which thus unfolded 
 itself before me ; and under this modest exterior were the finest 
 traits of the gentleman. As the old chivalric poetry came some- 
 times from his lips, and he repeated — 
 
 " Gayly bedight, 
 A gallant knight 
 Rode on through sun and shadow " — • 
 
 he was himself the ideal of that gallant cavalier. Modest, 
 kindly, brave as steel, and devoted to the South, his death wa9
 
 STUART AND I GO TO CULPEPPER. 381 
 
 another gap in the lives of those who loved him — a loss which 
 nothing can supply. 
 
 Do I weary you, kind reader, with my memories of Stuart, 
 Pelham, Farley, and those days long gone into the dust ? I have 
 done. It was the recollection of the hours I spent at "Camp 
 No-Camp," with Stuart, which beguiled me. When these men 
 passed away, with all their smiles, their laughter, their gay 
 voices and brave faces, something like a shadow seemed to fall 
 upon the landscape. I mourn them yet ; and sometimes think a 
 portion of my heart is buried with them yonder, where they 
 sleep in peace — dead on the field of honor. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 I GO WITH STUART TO CULPEPPER. 
 
 OifB day in March, when I visited General Stuart's head- 
 quarters, I found him buckling on his sabre and pistol. The 
 black satchel, in which he carried official papers, was already on. 
 His face was serious and earnest. 
 
 "My dear General," I said, "I am such a good staff-officer 
 that I not only never ask any questions, but never even form a 
 desire to know any thing. It is permitted, I hope, however, to 
 make a simple remark, and I beg leave to say that you appear to 
 me to be going somewhere." 
 
 "You are the model of an aide," was Stuart's reply, "and 
 such virtue ought to be rewarded. I won't tell you where I am 
 going, but, if you are willing, I will take you with me." 
 
 " That is a fair proposition." 
 
 " You accept ?" 
 
 "Certainly — but there is my General, who must be consulted." 
 
 Stuart went to his desk and wrote a line, calling for a courier 
 as he did so. 
 
 The courier appeared at the moment when the General finished. 
 
 "Does that express the idea?" asked the General.
 
 382 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 And he handed me the paper. It was addressed to General 
 Jackson, and contained only these words : 
 
 " My dear General : 
 
 " Will you lend me Colonel Surry for three or four days ? 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 "J. E. B. S." 
 
 " It has the military brevity of Veni, vidi, vici, General." 
 And I returned the paper, which was intrusted to Moonshine, 
 scout and courier, for delivery to General Jackson. In half an 
 hour — for our head-quarters were now within a mile of Stuart's, 
 on the Massaponnax — Moonshine returned with the answer. It 
 was indorsed on the note, and in these words : 
 
 "My dear General: 
 " Certainly. 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 "T. J. J." 
 
 "The General beats me in brevity," was Stuart's comment; 
 and he put on his riding-cape. 
 
 " Which route are we going ?" I asked. 
 
 " We are going to take the train." 
 
 " Ah ! the train ! — you say the train?" 
 
 " There, you have asked no less than two indiscreet questions, 
 Mr. Model Staff-Officer !" 
 
 "But your staff, doubtless, know your route?" 
 
 " Not a bit, Surry — they stay here." 
 
 " Ah ! Then you make a stolen march ?" 
 
 " Come and see." 
 
 And we mounted and set out for Hamilton's Crossing, where 
 — sending back my horse by a courier — I took the cars with 
 Stuart. 
 
 On the same evening we had travelled by Hanover Junction, 
 Gordonsville, and Orange, to Culpepper Court-House. 
 
 In front of the tavern, upon his gray mare " Nelly," we found
 
 STUART AND I GO TO CULPEPPER. 383 
 
 General Fitz Lee — a gallant figure, in full war-harness, with 
 flowing beard and mustache, laughing face, and eyes sparkling 
 with gayety beneath his brown hat and ebon feather. 
 
 Behind him was Pelham, quiet, smiling, wearing his little 
 artillery-jacket, with red collar, and seated upon a huge artillery- 
 horse, his knees drawn up by the short stirrups. 
 
 " Well, Fitz! what news?" was Stuart's greeting, as he shook 
 hands with General Lee. 
 
 " Just heard from Randolph,* who is on picket at the bridge. 
 Averill is opposite Kelly's Ford. 
 
 "What force?" 
 
 " About three thousand." 
 
 Stuart leaned over. 
 
 " What effective have you ?" 
 
 " About eight hundred," was the reply. 
 
 "Good," said Stuart, "that will do." 
 
 And they entered the tavern together. 
 
 I had shaken hands with " General Fitz," and was talking 
 with Pelham, who had been in Culpepper for several days on a 
 visit of inspection. 
 
 The " Stuart Horse Artillery " had grown from a battery to a 
 battalion, with such officers as Breathed, Henry, McGregor, and 
 others — perfect tigers in a fight, and men after Stuart's own 
 heart. 
 
 I never knew Pelham to be more gay. He spoke of the "jolly 
 times " he expected to have in the coming campaign, and seemed 
 to look forward to the storm of battle, ready to burst forth, 
 with all the ardor of a lover who sees the approach of his 
 mistress. 
 
 His blue eyes sparkled ; his lips were wreathed with smiles ; 
 his voice was gay ; his jest and laughter incessant. 
 
 " Now Stuart has come, we'll have it!" was his exclamation. 
 " There never was another man like Stuart, Surry !"t 
 
 "Poor boy!" said the General to me a month afterward, 
 " he loved me very much! "J 
 
 * Captain of the '• Blaok Hon*.* t Hig wordi. J Hlg word*.
 
 384 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 CYII. 
 
 THE LAST CHARGE OF PELHAM. 
 
 At dawn we were aroused by the intelligence that the enemy 
 were crossing the Rappahannock and making a determineo 
 attack upon the small force posted in the rifle-pits. 
 
 Stuart had laid down without taking off his clothes or arms. 
 He was speedily in the saddle— General Fitz Lee having sent 
 him a horse. I had procured one from Pelham, and we were 
 soon riding rapidly in the direction of Kelly's Ford. 
 
 As we passed Fleetwood Hill, where the great battle of the 
 9th of June was afterward fought, and approached Stevensburg, 
 the dark column of Fitz Lee was seen moving steadily through 
 the gray of morning in the direction of the Rappahannock ; and, 
 riding on to the head of the column, Stuart joined the General. 
 
 The firing from the river in front was now rapid and con- 
 tinuous. 
 
 " They have crossed," said Stuart anxiously. " Who com- 
 mands the force in the rifle-pits, Fitz?" 
 
 I did not hear the answer. I only heard the words " re- 
 enforced last night." 
 
 As he spoke, the firing ceased, as if by magic. 
 
 In the dim light I could see Stuart knit his brow. 
 
 " They are captured as sure as fate !" he growled. 
 
 The words were soon verified. A cavalry-man galloped up, 
 and, to Stuart's quick demand of "What news?" replied in great 
 excitement : 
 
 "The enemy are across, General— at least ten thousand! 
 The men in the rifle-pits are all captured !" 
 
 " Where are you going?" said Stuart gruffly. 
 
 " To find my company, General." 
 
 " Here is a company you can join." 
 
 And he pointed to Fitz Lee's column, in which the straggling 
 cavalry-man reluctantly took his place. 
 
 " Now, Fitz," said Stuart coolly, " there is only one thing to
 
 % WM 
 
 M
 
 THE LAST CHARGE OF PELHAM. 385 
 
 do — to fight tliem. We'll drive right at Averill, and find who ia 
 the best man." 
 
 General Fitz Lee received this suggestion with a gay laugh. 
 
 ''That's what I am going to do," was his reply. 
 
 The column moved on steadily; the day slowly dawned; and 
 as we approached Kelly's Ford we came upon the enemy, drawn 
 up on the southern bank of the river, not less than three thou- 
 sand in the saddle. 
 
 General Fitz Lee immediately made his dispositions for attack. 
 I say General Fitz Lee,for Stuart had notified him that he would not 
 assume command as long as every thing went on to his satisfaction. 
 
 As the sun rose, the spectacle presented was imposing. 
 Ranged in long lines, face to face, were seen the opposing lines of 
 cavalry, drawn up for the charge; and, as the masses moved to 
 their allotted positions, the heavy tramp of hoofs, with the occa- 
 sional notes of the bugle, alone broke the stillness. 
 
 In face of the three thousand cavalry of Averill, the eight 
 hundred of Fitz Lee presented a painfully diminutive appear- 
 ance. The array of force against the Southerners seemed over- 
 whelming — but never have I seen troops more animated and 
 eager for the fray. The eyes of the men sparkled ; they clutched 
 the sword-hilt with an evident intention to make every cut 
 bring dov, n its man ; and when Stuart and Fitz Lee appeared, 
 riding along the lines, a wild burst of cheers rose, saying, as 
 plainly as any language, " We are ready! Give the word!" 
 
 It was given. Suddenly the ringing bugles sounded the 
 "Charge!" and Lee and Stuart, with drawn sabres whirling 
 round their heads, led the line in a headlong charge. 
 
 In a moment they had burst upon the enemy, drawn up be- 
 hind a ditch and heavy stone wall ; the carbines were cracking, 
 and the bitter struggle began in all its fury. 
 
 It was to last from morn to night — from the rising to the set- 
 ting of the sun. 
 
 I cannot describe it in its animated details ; some other hand 
 must chronicle the splendid gallantry of the little band of Lee, 
 fighting nearly four to one ; and tell, too, with what dash and 
 courage Fitz Lee led his men. 
 17
 
 386 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "It was like a little dog jumping at the throat of a big mastiff!" 
 said an old farmer afterward, in describing the action; and all 
 daylong the plucky bull-dog, small, but "game," made those 
 leaps, bringing blood from his huge adversary's throat. 
 
 As the hours wore on, the struggle became desperate. From 
 their cover behind the stone walls in their front, the ene- 
 my poured a deadly fire into the Southern horsemen ; but the 
 obstacle was hurled down, the horses driven over with the spur, 
 and the battle raged, hour after hour, with varying fortunes, in 
 every portion of the field. 
 
 The enemy's great numbers told at last, however. They 
 opened with their artillery — massed their column in front of our 
 left, and, throwing all their weight there, turned the flank, and 
 forced Fitz Lee back. 
 
 He retired, fighting obstinately at every step, the enemy 
 pressing on in triumph. But they could not throw his line into 
 disorder. Instead of scattering, the horses, who had been more 
 or less broken into detachments, now concentrated, and, showing 
 thus an obstinate and determined front, Fitz Lee continued to 
 fall back, under the fire both of carbines and artillery. 
 
 All at once, from an eminence in rear, was heard the thun- 
 der of Pelham's guns ; and the shells, racing over the heads of 
 the cavalry, burst in the enemy's line, throwing it into disorder, 
 and checking its advance. Fitz Lee continued to retire, until he 
 reached a body of woods, on the summit of a hill, with open 
 land in front ; and here he massed his cavalry, formed line of 
 battle, and prepared to fight to the last. 
 
 The sun was now sinking, and the great orb, balanced like a 
 ball of fire upon the woodland, seemed to be bathed in blood. 
 Throughout the whole day, the little force had virtually held its 
 ground ; and now, seeing that Averill continued to advance, Fitz 
 Lee determined to attack him. 
 
 In our front was a great field intersected by fences ; but these 
 were of wood, and could be torn down. On the high ground 
 beyond was the Federal artillery. As far as the eye could 
 reach, extended the dark masses of the Federal cavalry, motion- 
 less in line of battle.
 
 THE LAST CHARGE OF PELHAM. 387 
 
 Our bugles sounded the charge, and slowly the Southern line 
 advanced — then it broke into a trot — then, at a wild gallop. 
 and with defiant cheers, it burst upon the enemy. 
 
 From that moment the action became mad and desperate. 
 The men discarded the pistol and carbine, and had recourse to 
 the sabre. In an instant they had torn wide gaps in the fences, 
 swept through, and were fighting hand to hand. 
 
 Fitz Lee and Stuart were in front, fighting like private sol- 
 diers. Their presence gave new vigor to the men, and a better 
 fight was not made in the war. 
 
 Stuart was leading on the men when Pelham galloped up and 
 made some report in relation to his artillery. I understood in 
 an instant what had brought him — he could not stay in the rear 
 with his guns : he burned to be in the charge. 
 
 As he turned away, a regiment swept by, right down upon 
 the enemy, and Pelham's sabre flashed from its scabbard. 
 
 At that moment his appearance was superb. His cheeks were 
 burning; his blue eyes darted lightnings ; from his lips, wreathed 
 with a smile of joy, rang "Forward!" as he cheered on the 
 men. 
 
 For an instant he was standing erect in his stirrups, his sabre 
 flashing in his grasp ; for a moment his proud voice rang like a 
 clarion which sounds the charge — then I saw him hurled from 
 the saddle, under the trampling hoofs of the horses. 
 
 With a single bound of my horse I reached him. He lay with 
 his smiling face turned upward, his eyes closed. 
 
 A shell had burst above him ; a fragment struck him upon 
 the head — lie was gone! 
 
 Gone at the moment when, before the headlong charge of 
 Lee, the men of Averill gave way ; gone at that supreme instant 
 when the long, hard day was won, and the baffled enemy were 
 hastily retiring across the Rappahannock! That spectacle was 
 denied the heroic boy — but he died the death he wished — and is 
 yonder, where the brave and true and faithful are rewarded ! 
 
 At night the enemy were retiring, "badly hurt," as Stuart 
 telegraphed. He added : " We are after him. His dead men 
 and horses strew the roads."
 
 388 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Before morning, Averill, with his three thousand horsemen, 
 thus defeated by the eight hundred men of Lee, was rapidly re- 
 treating beyond the Rappahannock: a complete victory had 
 crowned the Southern arms. 
 
 But the death of a boy more than balanced this supreme suc- 
 cess. At midnight Pelham's lips had uttered their last sigh. 
 His noble spirit was beyond the stars — 
 
 " Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing 
 Could touch him further I" 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 THE SPRING FLOWERS OF INCOGNITA. 
 
 Suoh was the hard battle of Kelly's Ford, and such the death 
 of Pelham. 
 
 The body of the young artillerist was carried back to Cul- 
 pepper Oourt-House, and laid in its shroud, amid the sobs of 
 women and the tears of bearded men. That cold, pale face was 
 all that was left of one who had lived and died for Virginia and 
 the South. 
 
 I was looking at the pallid face, upon which a smile lingered, 
 as if death had come to him a welcome guest, when a suppressed 
 60und behind me attracted my attention, and, turning round, I 
 saw Stuart standing near, gazing, with eyes full of tears, upon 
 the dead boy's face. 
 
 With a measured step, his black-plumed hat in his hand, he 
 approached the body ; looked long and silently upon the smiling 
 face ; then, stooping down, he pressed his bearded lip to the 
 marble brow. 
 
 As he did so, the breast of the great cavalier was shaken ; a 
 sob iss«d from his lips, and a tear fell on the pale cheek of Pel- 
 ham. Severing from his forehead a lock of the light hair — as 
 the boy had severed one from the head of poor Jean — he turned
 
 THE SPRING FLOWERS. 389 
 
 away ; and as he did so I heard, in low, deep tones, which seemed 
 to force their way through tears, the single word — 
 
 "Farewell!" 
 
 It was Stuart's last greeting, on this earth, to the spirit of Pel- 
 ham — soon to meet his own again where the roar of battle never 
 comes. 
 
 On the day succeeding the battle, Stuart sent this dispatch to 
 Richmond : 
 
 "The noble, the chivalric, the gallant Pelham is no more. 
 He was killed in action yesterday. His remains will be sent to 
 you to-day. How much he was beloved, appreciated, and ad- 
 mired, let the tears of agony we have shed, and the gloom of 
 mourning throughout my command, bear witness. His loss is 
 irreparable." * 
 
 "He fell, mortally wounded," wrote Stuart afterward, in a 
 general order, " with the battle-cry on his lips, and the light of 
 victory beaming from his eye. 
 
 " His eye had glanced over every battle-field of this army 
 from the first Manassas to the moment of his death, and he was, 
 with a single exception, a brilliant actor in all. 
 
 " The memory of 'the gallant Pelham' — his many virtues, his 
 noble nature, and purity of character — is enshrined as a sacred 
 legacy in the hearts of all who knew him. 
 
 "His record has been bright and spotless — his career brilliant 
 and successful. 
 
 " He fell, the noblest of sacrifices, on the altar of his country !" 
 
 Such was the wreath of fadeless laurel laid by Stuart on the 
 grave of Pelham — the young, the noble, the immortal ! His life 
 had passed like a dream of glory — and Stuart wept beside his 
 tomb ! Nor was that all. Tears were shed for the dead boy 
 which the world did not see — there were sighs breathed, far 
 away, which the world did not hear! I heard one, as it passed 
 on the winds of spring, from the orange groves of the South — 
 and the reader shall hear it too. 
 
 Some months after the death of my dear, good friend, I wrot* 
 
 * To Mr. Curry, M. C, from AlaUm*.
 
 390 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and published, in a Southern journal, a paper upon his character 
 and career. It was nothing — a mere sketch — the hasty lament 
 of one comrade for another, as he passes on. My name was not 
 printed with the sketch — and yet the authorship was in some 
 manner discovered. In the spring of 1864, I received a note, 
 in the delicate handwriting of a young lady, from Georgia, and 
 this note contained a small bunch of flowers — heartsease, violet, 
 and jessamine — tied up with a tress of hair. 
 
 The note lies before me, with its faded flowers — here it is : 
 
 " For the sake of one who fell at Kelly's Ford, March 17th, 
 '63, an unknown Georgian sends you a simple cluster of young 
 spring flowers. You loved the 'gallant Pelham,' and your 
 words of love and sympathy are ' immortelles ' in the hearts that 
 loved him. I have never met you, I may never meet you, but 
 you have a true friend in me. I know that sad hearts mourn 
 him in Virginia, and a darkened home in Alabama tells the sor- 
 row there. My friendship for him was pure as a sister's love, or 
 a spirit's. I had never heard his voice. 
 
 " Your name is ever in my prayers ! God bless you ! 
 
 " N'lMPOETB." 
 
 Such was the note of an unknown Georgia girl, which accom- 
 panied the flowers bound up with her hair. Does any one laugh, 
 and mutter " romance!" "extravagance"? I salute and honor 
 her who wrote those words — they are the true "immortelles" 
 on the grave of Pelham. I have "never met her, I may never 
 meet her," but it is something for a poor soldier to have the 
 prayers of a pure heart ascend for him! Not in vain, it may be, 
 O fair Incognita! have those prayers been breathed for the un- 
 known Virginian who, again to-day, in the hours of a sad peace, 
 as yonder, amid the thunder on the Rapidan, reads your words 
 of friendship, in their delicate tracery, and presses your flowers 
 and your hair to his lips. The soul that you loved is gone from 
 earth — never more in any future wars will his blue eye flash or 
 his clear voice ring ; but it is something, if yonder, where his spirit 
 hovers, he can know that his memory is immortal in your heart.
 
 THE ADVERSARIES. 391 
 
 Do not weep for him — it is we that remain "in the land where 
 we were dreaming " who deserve your regret. Shed no tears 
 for Pelham ! His death was noble, as his life was beautiful and 
 beneficent. Fame crowned his boyish brow with that amaran- 
 thine wreath, the words of our great chieftain Lee; and he died, 
 as he lived, amid hearts who loved him as the pearl of chivalry 
 and honor. The " gallant Pelham " cannot pass from the heart 
 or the memory of the people of the South — but there is some- 
 thing which his brave spirit would be touched and thrilled by 
 more than all those laurels which enrich his tomb. 
 
 It is the tears of Stuart, as he murmured, "Poor boyl he 
 loved me very much!" and the prayers of this "unknown 
 Georgian," who had "never heard his voice!"* 
 
 CIX. 
 
 THE ADVERSARIES. 
 
 The advance of Averill was the prelude of the coming cam- 
 paign. 
 
 General Hooker, known as "Fighting Joe Hooker," had 
 superseded General Burnside in command of the Federal army, 
 and every tiling pointed to a determined and vigorous renewal of 
 hostilities at the earliest moment which the season permitted. 
 
 What was the comparative strength of the opposing columns 
 facing each other on the shores of the Rappahannock in the 
 month of April ? Here are the facts — I place them upon record 
 for the historian : 
 
 The Federal army, according to the printed statement subse- 
 quently of Major-General Peck, U. S. A., numbered one hundred 
 
 * Colonel Surry showed mo the note of the young lady here referred to. The 
 writing is very delicate, and the flowers tied with a tress of auburn hair. Ho said 
 that this little incident had sensibly touched him, and that ho would have acknowl- 
 edged the receipt of the note if the young lady had given him her name. As it wa§, 
 he feared she would think him very cold. Some day, however, they might incut, 
 »nd ihe would diacovor her mistake.
 
 392 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and fifty-nine thousand three hundred men. General Lee's force 
 did not quite reach thirty-five thousand. The bulk of Long- 
 atreet's corps had been sent to Suffolk, on the south side of 
 James River, for subsistence. All that was left was Jackson's 
 corps, and about ten thousand troops from Longstreet's. 
 
 When the April sun began to dry the roads and render the 
 movement of trains and artillery practicable, General Hooker 
 confronted General Lee at Fredericksburg, with a force more 
 than four times greater than that of his adversary. 
 
 Such were the conditions under which the great collision, in 
 the first days of May, was about to take place. The enormous 
 disproportion between the opposing forces, you may possibly 
 declare, good reader, must be established by something better 
 than the statement of an obscure officer of the 0. S. Army. Be 
 it so. Let my words go only for what they are worth now, when 
 the theory is obstinately and persistently urged by ten thousand 
 journals, of a certain class, that we of the South were overcome, 
 not by numbers, but by superior generalship in the Federal lead- 
 ers — superior fighting in the Federal troops. The day will come 
 when every secret will be brought to light ; when the torch of 
 truth shall illuminate every hidden recess of this misty epoch, 
 and defy the power that tries to extinguish it. "When that day 
 comes, the South will have full justice done to her; her victories 
 over enormous odds will be traced to their true origin — a nerve 
 and courage which only numbers could overwhelm. Then the 
 world will understand the meaning of the words — u It was im- 
 possible for us to conquer — we have struggled !" 
 
 OX. 
 
 THE NIGHT-HAWKS FLOWN. 
 
 About the middle of April I was sent with a confidential 
 message to General Stuart, who had broken up his> head-quarters 
 at " Camp No-Camp," and transferred them to the neighborhood 
 of Culpepper Court-House.
 
 THE NIGHT-HAWKS FLOWN. 393 
 
 This mission was far from unwelcome to me ; for the brilliant 
 sun of April, after the dreary days of winter, had the effect of 
 the bugle-note that sounds to horse. The wooing airs invited to 
 active movement and adventure ; and, strapping behind the 
 saddle my single blanket, in its oil-cloth, I set out, gay and joy- 
 ous, for Culpepper, taking the road by Chancellorsville and Ely's 
 Ford on the Rapidan. 
 
 Do you think the words " gay and joyous " rather curious as 
 applied \o a discarded lover ? Was it natural that the personage 
 who had Mdden a long farewell to the only woman he had ever 
 loved, and never expected to look upon her face again — was it 
 natural that this unhappy personage should be " gay and joyous " 
 under any provocation, and not pass his whole existence tearing 
 his hair and exhibiting other evidences of the gloom which 
 wrapped his soul ? Alas ! human nature is a poor affair after all, 
 I think 1 Men will not sigh always — broken hearts mend slowly ; 
 or, rather, should we not say that hope never completely deserts 
 as? Was it the April sunshine, the grass starred over with the 
 first pale flowers — what was it, that said, "Do not despond — it 
 is better to laugh than be sighing!" 
 
 In this gay and philosophic mood I set out on my journey, 
 and, following the Mine road by Tabernacle Church, struck into 
 the main highway, and reached Chancellorsville. Scarcely 
 glancing at this old brick edifice which had then never been 
 heard of out of the immediate vicinity, I turned to the right 
 toward Ely's Ford and soon found myself in that country of 
 dense thickets — the famous Wilderness — in whose depths stood 
 the lonely house I knew so well. 
 
 As I rode on, the bearing of the country told me that I could 
 not be far from this house ; and, yielding to a caprice which I 
 could not resist, I turned my horse's head in the supposed di- 
 rection of the place, and, after half an hour's ride through narrow 
 bridle-paths, came upon the spot. 
 
 Leaping the low brush-fence, and ascending the knoll upon 
 which the house stood, I checked my horse before the door, and 
 hallooed. No reply came, and, dismounting, I opened the badly- 
 secured door, and entered. 
 17*
 
 394: SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The place was deserted. There was no trace of a human 
 being ; but all at once a sound from beneath my feet, as it were, 
 attracted my attention, and I saw, protruding from a flight of 
 eteps which led into a cavernous region beneath, the head of an 
 old black hag, with blear eyes, gray hair, twisted into kinks, and 
 toothless mouth, from which issued a sort of growl. 
 
 The growl demanded what I wanted, and, when I asked if any 
 one but herself was at home, another growl conveyed the infor- 
 mation that no one but herself lived there. 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Parkins?" 
 
 " Gone this long time," from the hag. 
 
 "And Mr. Fenwick?" 
 
 " Dead." 
 
 These words terminated the interview, for the head of the old 
 hag disappeared ; and, having nothing further to detain me, I 
 issued forth and remounted my horse. 
 
 So these night-hawks had disappeared — dead or gone to other 
 regions. Like some poisonous exhalation, they had vanished 
 before the gay sunshine, which poured upon me now as I con- 
 tinued my way toward the Rapidan. 
 
 Crossing at Ely's Ford, I pushed on by Stevensburg, and in the 
 afternoon reached General Stuart's head-quarters, near Culpepper 
 Court-House. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 HOURS AT "CAMP PELHAM." 
 
 The picturesque head-quarters of General Stuart are before 
 my eyes as I write these lines. 
 
 They were situated upon a wooded slope west of the little 
 tillage, and great trees extended their arms above. Under a 
 "fly" — that is to say, the canvas cover of a tent — were the 
 General's desk, chair, and couch spread on the ground. In a 
 clump of pines near by the couriers had pitched their tents cfabri. 
 Beyond were the horses, picketed among the trees. In front of 
 the head-quarters, on the grassy knoll, beneath the great trees,
 
 HOURS AT "CAMP PELHAM." 395 
 
 the blood-red flag of Stuart flickered like a dazzling flame in the 
 April sunshine — a veritable "giant of battle" rose, the General's 
 favorite flower. 
 
 Here at " Camp Pelhaui " — for so Stuart had called his head- 
 quarters — I spent two or three days ; and I now recall them as 
 among the most pleasant I have ever passed. The smile of Pel- 
 ham and the glad light of his friendly eyes no longer shone amid 
 the group ; but others were there — Farley, with his low, musical 
 voice, his narratives of wild adventure; and Channing Price, 
 that brave and lovely spirit, with his frank, young face, his 
 charming manner, and his smile like sunshine — a sunshine which, 
 alas ! was soon to disappear, as the voice of Farley was to be 
 silenced, in the lurid smoke, amid the tragic roar of the fast- 
 coming conflict. 
 
 Pardon me, reader, if I linger as before among these good 
 companions — if I dwell for a moment on the days spent at 
 "Camp Pelham," as at "Camp No-Camp." As I go back to 
 those times, again the blood-red battle-flag floats proudly in the 
 dazzling sunshine — again I hear the ready laughter, or the sono- 
 rous voice of Stuart, as he sings at his work — again the eyes of 
 Farley, Price, and that brave spirit Fontaine, doomed like his 
 comrades, shine upon me and bring back the hours that are 
 gone! 
 
 But at that time all was joy and merriment. Our old friend 
 Sweeny played his banjo gayly, making the woods of Culpepper 
 ring, like the pine thickets of Spottsylvania, with the " Old Gray 
 Hoss," and "Sweet Evelina," and "Jine the Cavalry;" Hagan 
 went and came, with huge hand smoothing down his mighty 
 beard ; and more than once came bevies of fair girls from the 
 adjoining village, to sit beneath the trees, and laugh with the 
 General, while the ped flag rippled, the bugle sounded gayly amid 
 the trees, and Sweeny's banjo filled the air with its uproar. 
 
 It was the poetry of war — this life of the cavalry on the out- 
 post — the romance of the hard career of arms. I have forgotten 
 many hot conflicts, but remember still those gay days at Camp 
 Pelham, in the spring of 1863. 
 
 Stuart was never in higher spirits, or in finer trim for fighting,
 
 396 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 and more than ever I admired this immense war-machine, this 
 hair-trigger organization, ready day or night to meet the enemy. 
 It was all the same to him whether the day was brilliant or 
 drenched in storms — he was what the Duke of Wellington called 
 a "two o'clock in the morning man," ready at any moment, and 
 his spirits defied the atmosphere. That gayety and superb 
 abandon never left him — war seemed mirth, and he delivered his 
 great blows with laughter. One morning during my visit, a re- 
 port came that a regiment of Federal cavalry had crossed near 
 Kelly's Ford, and Stuart hastened down in person. As he ap- 
 proached the point, an officer came to meet him at a gallop, and 
 announced that they were drawn up on the Southern bank. 
 
 "Well," was his answer, with a laugh, as he rode on, "tell 
 Colonel Beale to lick into 'em, and jam 'em right over the 
 river!"* 
 
 Did you ever hear of a more unromantic or " undignified " 
 order, reader ? It is just what Stuart said, and the order was 
 obeyed — the enemy forced to hastily recross. 
 
 One word more in regard to this great cavalier. There were 
 many silly persons who believed him frivolous, because he 
 laughed easily, and said that he neglected his work to dance and 
 amuse himself with young ladies. Most stupid and unjust of 
 calumnies ! A more enormous capacity for work, a more sleep- 
 less vigilance than Stuart's cannot be imagined. His daily toil 
 was incredible, his concentration of every faculty upon the task 
 of guarding the line of the Rappahannock unrelaxing. Not an 
 avenue of approach was left unguarded — scarce a picket was un- 
 visited by him. Day and night he was ready. 
 
 That he thought profoundly, and saw deep into the future, a 
 single opinion, expressed to me about this time, will show. 
 
 " The next battle will be fought near Chancellorsville."t 
 
 Such was the far-seeing prediction of a man who was thought 
 by many to be frivolous. His daring was proverbial, his name 
 illustrious ; but, besides the troops who fought under and idolized 
 him, there were only two men in the Southern army who ap* 
 
 * His words. t His words.
 
 THE SUMMONS. 397 
 
 predated him — regarding him as a born master of the art of 
 war. 
 But the names of these two men were Lee and Jackson. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 THE SUMMONS. 
 
 Goixg back to my narrative, from which the recollection of 
 this illustrious figure has diverted me, I proceed to record an 
 event enforcing very powerfully the good philosophy of hoping 
 against hope. 
 
 I was about to get into the saddle and set out on my return to 
 Fredericksburg, when Stuart, who had bidden me good-by, sud- 
 denly said : 
 
 " By the by, there is a letter for you, Surry." And he looked 
 among the papers on his desk. 
 
 " A letter, General." 
 
 " Yes, brought last night by one of my scouts from over the 
 river. Oh, here it is! — and in the most delicate female hand- 
 writing!" 
 
 I extended my hand, recognized May Beverley's writing in the 
 address, and tore open the letter. 
 
 It contained not a syllable ! But there amid the scented folds 
 of the paper was a flower like that which she had taken from 
 her bosom at our parting, with that promise! This talisman 
 meant " Come !" and I think the blood must have rushed to my 
 face as I gazed upon it, for suddenly I heard a tremendous burst 
 of laughter from the General. 
 
 "Good!" was his exclamation, when he could catch his 
 breath; "here's our sly Surry getting letters full of flowers 
 from young ladies, and blushing like a girl to boot! Look, 
 Farley!" 
 
 And I found myself the centre of laughing faces, all enjoying 
 my confusion. 
 
 "Pshaw!" my dear General, I said, as I put the letter in my
 
 398 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 pocket, and uttered a sort of laugh winch redoubled the mirth ; 
 " you are eternally suspecting something. I am sure you have 
 got a dozen letters like this in your desk there." 
 
 "Do you think so ? But they never made me blush as yours 
 does you!" 
 
 " That arises from the fact that I rarely receive such ; this is 
 merely from— a friend." 
 
 " Well ! as my scout goes back to-morrow, you can send an 
 acknowledgment before you set out for Fredericksburg, to your 
 — friend." 
 
 " Thank you, General, I don't propose to set out for Fredericks- 
 burg this morning." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " I have changed my mind. Will you lend me a courier and a 
 slip of paper?" 
 
 " Certainly— what for ?" 
 
 "I am going to telegraph to General Jackson for two or three 
 days' leave of absence — to make a scout beyond the Rappahan- 
 nock." 
 
 At this statement Stuart threw himself upon his couch, and 
 uttered a laugh which threw his previous performances com- 
 pletely in the shade. 
 
 There are moments, however, when it is difficult to tease peo- 
 ple : when a man is radiant with happiness, the hardest of all 
 tasks is to annoy or irritate him. So, having sent off my dis- 
 patch to the Oourt-House, whence it would be transmitted to 
 General Jackson by telegraph, I submitted myself to the tender 
 mercies of Stuart, with whom teasing was a passion. 
 
 A few hours afterward I received from General Jackson the 
 leave asked for, and, on the same evening, set out for The 
 Oaks. 
 
 Shall I add another illustration of the fun-loving propensities 
 of Stuart? As I mounted my horse, he called in a jovial voice 
 for Sweeny; that worthy at once appeared, with his banjo 
 under his arm ; and, as I rode down the hill, the voice of the 
 great musician — under the prompting of Stuart — was heard 
 singing to the banjo :
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 399 
 
 " Sweet Evelina, dear Evelina ! 
 My love for thee 
 Ke'er shall grow cold P 
 
 The General's laughter rang out — the staff joined in, and then 
 the triumphant banjo began an uproarious chorus, above which 
 ro6e the words : 
 
 " If you get there before I do, 
 Oh, tell her I'm a-coming too 1" 
 
 "Good-by, Surry!" came in the jovial and sonorous voice of 
 Stuart ; " success to you, my boy ! and long may you wave !" 
 
 CXIII 
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 
 
 I had scarcely ridden half a mile when I heard a voice behind 
 me, and, looking back, descried Captain Farley coming on at & 
 
 gallop. 
 
 He soon caught up with me, his eyes beaming, his white teeth 
 shining under his delicate mustache, his dark plume floating 
 in the breeze of the April evening. 
 
 " I couldn't bear the idea of your making your little scout 
 alone," he said, laughing, in his subdued way, " and, if I don't in- 
 trude, I will go with you." 
 
 "Delighted to have you, Farley," was my reply. "I hate to 
 ride all day with no company but my own thoughts." 
 
 " Well, then I'll go with you, and we will try and scare up 
 some game beyond the river." 
 
 I laughed, and said : 
 
 " I have two objections to that." 
 
 " What are they ?" he asked with a smile. 
 
 " In the first place, I shall be glad if they don't scare up me ; 
 and, secondly, my present scout is of the most peaceful character. 
 To-day, I have no sort of enmity toward anybody, not even 
 Yankees." 
 
 Farley laughed the low laugh of the scout.
 
 400 SURRY OF EAGLE' S-NEST. 
 
 " I understand !" he said ; " but perhaps we will come across 
 the bluebirds nevertheless, and bag some." 
 
 With these words he rode on by my side, a gallant figure in 
 his dark surtout, his brace of pistols, his drooping hat with its 
 black feather. 
 
 "We conversed of a hundred things, wbich do not concern 
 this narrative, and I need not record the conversation. It was 
 our determination to cross the river that night opposite the little 
 village of Orleans ; but, unfortunately, Farley's horse cast a shoe, 
 and began to limp so badly that it was absolutely necessary to 
 seek for a blacksmith. 
 
 While we were looking out for some friendly citizen to direct 
 us, a light glimmered in front, on the banks of the river — for 
 the night had descended — and suddenly we came upon a cavalry 
 camp, and were halted by a picket. 
 
 "Whose regiment?" I asked. 
 
 " Colonel Mordaunt's," was the reply. 
 
 "Good. Where are the Colonel's quarters?" 
 
 We were directed to a tent in a thicket near ; and, stretched 
 upon his cloak beside a camp-fire, we found Mordaunt. Oppo- 
 site lay Achmed, the Moor, wrapped from head to foot, and 
 sound asleep. 
 
 Mordaunt greeted us with military hospitality, and he and 
 Farley were evidently old friends. The result of a consultation 
 on the subject of horse-shoes was rather discouraging, as there 
 was no shop near, and we finally accepted Mordaunt's invitation 
 to spend the night. One of his men, he said, should have the 
 lame horse ready shod by daylight. 
 
 For an hour we talked upon indifferent subjects. Then, 
 declaring that he was sleepy, Farley wrapped himself in his 
 blankets, lay down by the fire, and his long breathing soon in- 
 dicated that he was asleep. 
 
 Mordaunt did not seem inclined to follow his example. He 
 remained stretched upon his cloak, his head resting on his hand, 
 and gazed thoughtfully into the fire. 
 
 As he thus lay at full length before me, his face and form lit 
 up by the ruddy flame, he was the picture of a cavalry-man.
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 401 
 
 His athletic figure, hardened by the active life of the outpost, 
 was all muscle ; his swarthy cheek bore the traces of sun and 
 wind and storm ; his dark eyes had that proud and penetrating 
 expression which may be read in those of the mountain eagle. 
 I looked with a species of curious interest upon this powerful 
 physique, this broad brow, and firm lip fringed with its raven 
 mustache ; it was strength in repose, there before me in the 
 person of this silent man, who had found in the shock of battle 
 apparently the solace for that grievous wound inflicted upon his 
 heart. 
 
 But, as I looked more attentively at my silent companion, I 
 thought I could discern the traces of unwonted emotion — sup- 
 pressed by that iron resolution of his, but not so completely as 
 to be wholly undiscoverable upon his swarthy features. There 
 was a strange light in the dark, proud eye — a slight color on 
 the cheek, which evidently proceeded from some hidden emotion. 
 Mordaunt was plainly thinking of something which absorbed him 
 strangely. 
 
 This revery at last became so profound that he seemed to lose 
 the consciousness even of my presence — and, muttering some 
 words which I did not hear, he drew from his bosom a paper, 
 small and delicate, such as women write upon, and read it atten- 
 tively. As he did so, a deep flush came to his bronze face — his 
 eyes flashed — then, as he raised his head, his glance met mine, 
 fixed curiously upon him, and he suddenly seemed to realize my 
 presence. The paper was coolly replaced in his bosom ; he drew 
 a long breath ; the color faded from his cheek — he was bronze 
 again. 
 
 At the same moment the sound of hoofs was heard on the 
 bank of the river, and the quick " Halt !" of the picket. 
 
 " Friends!" was the reply ; and, as Mordaunt rose, the sounds 
 drew nearer, and then ceased. 
 
 The rattle of a sabre indicated that some one was dismount- 
 ing ; and at the next moment the figure of Harry Saltoun ap- 
 peared in the circle of fire-light. 
 
 The young man advanced with measured tread, saluted with 
 cold ceremony, and said in tones of freezing formality :
 
 402 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I have come to make my report, sir." 
 
 " Make it, sir, 71 was Mordaunt's reply in a voice as cold and 
 formal as that of the young Lieutenant. 
 
 The latter then proceeded, in the same voice of stiff official 
 coldness, to make his report. 
 
 As I listened, I more than once asked myself if this rigid 
 military automaton with the repelling manner, the measured and 
 gloomy accents, the pale face and set lips which seemed at times 
 to suppress with difficulty the temptation to hreak into a sneer — 
 I asked myself if this could possibly he the gay and joyous 
 Harry Saltoun, so full of life and buoyancy and laughter — this 
 statue, which growled in speaking, and menaced him whom it 
 addressed, with those lowering eyes ! 
 
 But Mordaunt exhibited no evidence of surprise, and listened 
 in grave silence. 
 
 When the report was finished, he said simply : 
 
 " It is well, sir. Return with your company to the regi- 
 ment, and send your prisoners under guard to corps head-quar- 
 ters." 
 
 The young Lieutenant made a stiff salute, but did not move. 
 
 " 1 believe you heard my order," added Mordaunt in a freezing 
 tone. 
 
 " I did, sir," was the cold reply, "and it will be promptly 
 obeyed. I only solicit, before leaving Colonel Mordaunt, his 
 reply to a single question." 
 
 " Ask it," returned Mordaunt. 
 
 " When will he accord to me that meeting which he has 
 promised me ?" 
 
 The words were uttered without a change in the accents of 
 the young man — it is impossible to imagine any thing more cold 
 and proud than his address. 
 
 To my extreme astonishment, Mordaunt did not give way to 
 the least displeasure at this singular demand. I expected an 
 outburst, but none came. 
 
 " In four days from this time," he said, " I will give you an 
 answer to that question. Be content — what is deferred is not 
 lost. You have my word, sir."
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 403 
 
 The young man saluted — retired without uttering a word — 
 and I was again left alone with Mordaunt. 
 
 " This scene appears rather extraordinary to you, Surry, 
 heyond any doubt," Mordaunt now said to me, with perfect 
 coolness ; " but I am a perfect Quixote in some matters, my dear 
 friend, and I am acting like the Knight of La Mancha on the 
 present occasion. One of my curious fancies is, that a gentleman 
 has no right to refuse satisfaction to his opponent because that 
 opponent is beneath him in rank. On such occasions the ques- 
 tion of rank disappears — it is gentleman against gentleman, and 
 this boy is such." 
 
 " And you are going to fight Harry Saltoun!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Exactly," was the cool reply of Mordaunt. 
 
 " On what quarrel, in the name of heaven !" 
 
 " Eeaily, I can't tell you, Surry," was the careless answer, " I 
 can only inform you how it came about. Do you care to listen ? 
 — it will not detain you ten minutes." 
 
 " Let me hear all about it, Mordaunt." 
 
 " Well, our young friend here, Lieutenant Saltoun, has some 
 grievance against me which he obstinately refuses to divulge. I 
 observed the traces of bitter hostility in his manner toward me, 
 for the first time, a few days since. In making a report to me, 
 his bearing was so offensive that I called his attention to it, and 
 he replied in a manner which made it necessary to arrest him. 
 In twenty-four hours I sent an order for his release, believing 
 that some momentary fit of passion had betrayed him into this 
 grave military offence — but no sooner had he been relieved from 
 arrest than he came to me and said, with the eyes of a wild 
 animal about to spring: ' You are the colonel of this regiment, 
 and I am a subordinate — but you are a gentleman also, and I am 
 your equal. If you choose to arrest and punish me for insubor- 
 dination, do so ! If you hold yourself accountable to me, in 
 spite of the stars upon your collar, meet me and give me the 
 satisfaction which one gentleman owes another whom he has 
 outraged.' Those were the exact words, Surry," continued 
 Mordaunt coolly, " and you can understand that they touched 
 my weak point — probed it to the quick. At once I resolved to
 
 404 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 meet this defiance as man to man— no one shall insult me with 
 impunity — but, first, it seemed to me only reasonable that I 
 should ascertain the grounds of this fancied outrage. Can you 
 conceive that my young Orlando Furioso positively refusea to 
 tell me ?" 
 
 " And you are going to engage in a mortal encounter upon 
 grounds as irrational as a hot-blooded young man's simple invi- 
 tation!" I exclaimed. 
 
 A grim smile came to Mordaunt's face. 
 
 " You have not heard all," he said. " "What I have told you is 
 only the preface." * 
 
 " Go on — what more ?" 
 
 " The most entertaining part is to come. When my young 
 thunderbolt informs me that the ground of his dissatisfaction 
 with me must remain undivulged, I reply, 'That is somewhat ex- 
 traordinary, Lieutenant Saltoun : you are determined to cut my 
 throat, and yet you refuse to afford me the poor satisfaction of 
 knowing why you are resolved to perform that operation.' 
 "Whereupon comes his reply, as hot as fire, and in these words : 
 ' Do you call yourself a gentleman V ' I have been considered 
 such,' I answer, with the tiger in me suddenly becoming deve- 
 loped. 'I ask,' he said, coolly, yes, with a voice as steady as a 
 rock, Surry, ' I ask, because people say that there is something 
 in your history which won't bear investigation — a mystery which 
 may involve an infamy!' Those were his very words, my dear 
 Surry," said Mordaunt, with a flash of the eye which boded no 
 good; "and, not content with this, he uttered the name of a 
 woman whom I formerly knew ! "Well, when Lieutenant Sal- 
 toun did me the honor to thus allude to my private history — to 
 suggest that positive infamy might lie perdu beneath the mys- 
 tery of my past life, and to pronounce a name which recalls to 
 me only bitter recollections — the words which he uttered ac- 
 complished his object as effectually as a blow could have done it! 
 I went up to him where he was standing — we were quite alone- — 
 and said to him, ' Lieutenant Saltoun, you have formed a tolerably 
 just estimate of your man, and know how to strike. You ehall 
 answer for those words with your life. But don't arouse me fur-
 
 MORDAUNT'S MOTiyE. 405 
 
 ther now. Go and cool off", sir, and then come back, and we will 
 arrange the terms of the meeting you desire.' He bowed when 
 I said that, and went away — and the meeting to-night is the first 
 which has since taken place between us." 
 
 I could find no words of comment upon this most unfortunate 
 affair ; and, after a moment's silence, Mordaunt added : 
 
 " I would have arranged the whole affair to-night — it would 
 require a few moments only — but I have just received a letter 
 which makes my absence for about four days absolutely neces- 
 sary. I have thus been obliged to defer this meeting with our 
 fiery friend — on my return he shall have his satisfaction." 
 
 CXIY. 
 
 MORDAUNT'S MOTIYE. 
 
 The deep voice ceased, and I remained buried in reflection. 
 "What possible origin could there be for this bitter hatred of 
 Harry Saltoun's for Mordaunt — the man he loved and admired 
 the most in all the world ? I remembered that declaration of 
 the youth in the preceding autumn, that he would rather have 
 " "Well done," from the lips of Mordaunt, than another grade — 
 and now all this love and admiration was changed into hate so 
 bitter that blood must flow to satisfy it ! 
 
 All at once the thought of Violet Grafton came to my mind, 
 and, turning to Mordaunt, I said : 
 
 "Have you visited Elm Cottage recently?" 
 
 "More than once this spring," was his reply; "my scouting 
 expeditions regularly take me in that direction." 
 
 "And you have seen Violet Grafton?" 
 
 "Certainly," returned Mordaunt, coolly; "she is living still 
 with her friends there." 
 
 "And Lieutenant Saltoun has doubtless called too?" 
 
 " Yes, I was assured that he had frequently staid with them 
 when out scouting."
 
 406 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " Then the whole affair is plain, Mordaunt," I exclaimed, " and 
 the mystery is explained at once." 
 
 "What can you mean?" 
 
 " I mean," was my reply, "that Harry Saltoun is in love with 
 Miss Grafton, and has taken up the fancy, from some cause, that 
 you have injured him with the woman whom he loves !" 
 
 Mordaunt's hrows contracted, and for some moments he pre- 
 served a moody silence, gazing steadily into the fire. 
 
 "That is a curious idea," he muttered ; " strange that it never 
 occurred to me. And yet " — 
 
 "Remember, Mordaunt, how the young man blushed when 
 speaking of the young lady who had nursed him when he was 
 wounded — remember how her very name flushed his cheek ; 
 then think of these regular visits which he has since paid to Elm 
 Cottage ; lastly, think of the gossip and tittle-tattle which such 
 affairs occasion, and the great probability that you have been 
 represented to him as his rival." 
 
 " As his rival ! — I !" said Mordaunt ; " what an idea! An old 
 bear like myself the rival of this glittering young gallant!" 
 
 And, under the cool accents of the speaker, I thought I dis- 
 cerned the traces of bitter irony and melancholy. 
 
 " You are right, Surry," he added, in a calmer tone ; " some- 
 thing of that description is probably mixed up with the affair. 
 But what imaginable grounds for such a supposition can my con- 
 duct have afforded ?" 
 
 "Simply that you are Violet Grafton's friend. That is enough 
 in the eyes of the old women, male and female, to make you her 
 suitor." 
 
 " Yes, they are a plague — these male and female women ; 
 they thus make trouble, and will not understand what I have 
 done." 
 
 "What you have done?" 
 
 " Shall I tell you, Surry ? I am not of that class who are fond 
 of making confidences — but I wish to retain your good opinion, 
 friend. Well, do you remember my meeting with Miss Grafton 
 at Manassas?" 
 "Certainly."
 
 MORDAUNT'S MOTIVE. 407 
 
 " I rode with her that night, and she did me a great service. 
 I need not refer to this point further, except to say that through 
 her instrumentality I gained possession of a packet of papers, 
 more valuable to me than all the wealth of two hemispheres!" 
 
 Mordaunt paused, his face flushed ; then he went on as calmly 
 as before : 
 
 " I had long avoided women, having, doubtless, little to attract 
 them, but it was impossible to converse with Miss Grafton with- 
 out discovering that she possessed a very exquisite character — a 
 soul all goodness and sincerity. My cold manner did not seem to 
 repel her — she resolutely refused to observe my bearishness, and 
 when we reached Elm Cottage we were almost friends. Not to 
 weary you out, however, I will come to the point of all this talk 
 directly : something like an honest friendship sprang up between 
 this young lady and myself; and during the autumn of the year 
 1861, while I was stationed near Fairfax, I visited her more than 
 once. Tbe consequence of further acquaintance was a stronger 
 regard for her than ever; and, as I think that human friendship 
 should be 'clothed in act,' as says the great English poet, I 
 sought for some means of benefiting Miss Grafton. She was an 
 orphan, without a permanent home, simply the guest of the hos- 
 pitable lady of Elm Cottage ; and I thought that the best service 
 I could do her was to throw in her way some true-hearted youth 
 who would love her, and, marrying her, give her a home and that 
 happiness which she deserved." 
 
 "I understand I" I said ; "you found the opportunity in Au- 
 gust last year, when we were going to Manassas." 
 
 " Yes. I had long observed young Saltoun — known him in 
 camp and seen him on the field — and I know that a braver and 
 truer boy never drew sabre. You see I am magnanimous," said 
 Mordaunt with a melancholy curl of his proud lip ; " I praise my 
 rival and my personal enemy ! Well, this is no less true of him, 
 if he does intend to make me fight ! I have never known that 
 boy to do a mean action, to shrink before peril, or to act in any 
 manner not becoming a gentleman. At this very moment, when 
 I think he hates me bitterly, I would trust him with my life ; I 
 would sleep by his side, though he were awake with a poniard in
 
 408 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 his Land ! Well, I am prosing. I knew that this young man 
 was the son of a rich Marylander, and in every manner calcu- 
 lated to make Violet Grafton happy as her husband. He was 
 wounded that night, could go no further ; then I conceived the 
 project of sending him to be nursed by Miss Grafton at Elm Cot- 
 tage, and gave him a note to her, commending him to her good 
 keeping. 
 
 "I tell you this to clear myself of all reproach, friend. I did 
 it from a good motive — none was ever better. And now you can 
 understand the falsehood and malignity in representing me as 
 young Saltoun's rival. Nor rival only ! I am plotting secretly 
 against him with Miss Grafton ; injuring his character ; ' out- 
 raging' him, he says, and my blood must flow for it!" 
 
 Mordaunt ceased, the prey apparently of bitter and conflicting 
 emotions. 
 
 " My life is an unhappy one, Surry," he added, gazing Into the 
 fire. " I thought that upon my tombstone might have been at 
 least written, with the applause of all, ' He lost all but honor ' — 
 yet, it seems, that this, too, is to be denied me. I am to be re- 
 garded as a hypocrite and base traducer of the youth I called 
 my friend !" 
 
 There was something so proud and melancholy in the accents 
 of the speaker, that his words went to the heart. More than 
 ever I admired the great wealth of magnanimity and sincerity 
 which lay concealed beneath the cold exterior of this man. Did 
 he love Violet Grafton all that time, too ? It was more than 
 probable, as his fits of moody abstraction during the progress of 
 his narrative seemed to indicate. And she — did she love him 
 yet ? Or had the youthful attractions of Harry Saltoun driven 
 the dark eyes of Mordaunt from her heart ? I knew not ; but I 
 thought I saw that she was the sole oasis in the desert of Mor- 
 daunt's life — the sunshine under which his cold and arid heart 
 had burst, for a moment, into bloom, soon to have its leaves 
 strewn to the winds by the remorseless hand of that fatality 
 which seemed to make his life unhappy, and thus hold him to 
 his hard, stern work with the sabre. 
 
 "I have listened to your explanation, Mordaunt," I now said,
 
 MORDAUNT'S MOTIVE. 409 
 
 "and, more than ever, recognize you in what you have done. It 
 i*s truly a monstrous thing that this boy should take up such a 
 fancy as he seems to have done, and force you, by his insults, to 
 meet him in mortal combat. There must be an explanation be- 
 fore you fight. But -what was that other insult which he uttered 
 — that ' name of a woman ' — not Miss Grafton's — which was a 
 part of his offence ?" 
 
 Mordaunt's brow was suddenly overshadowed. 
 
 "I will tell you another time," he said, moodily. "Enough 
 for to-night." 
 
 " As you will," I replied ; " but, meanwhile, in all this fancied 
 rivalry and conflict between you and Saltouu, what becomes of 
 that boy, who loves the young lady too ?" 
 
 And I pointed to the prostrate form of Achmed, wrapped 
 from head to foot in his long, Moorish burnoiis, on the opposite 
 side of the camp-fire. 
 
 Mordaunt gazed at the sleeping form in melancholy silence for 
 a moment, and then said : 
 
 "True — that is something I had not thought of. Yes! the 
 boy loves her passionately now ; he worships the very ground 
 she walks upon — and there is no hope for him. This handsome 
 youth — this stranger, you see, Surry, with his laughing eyes, 
 quite overcomes us all — the moody Mordaunt, and the Moor, 
 too ! Well, Achmed and I will return, doubtless, after the fight- 
 ing here is done — if we live to see it end — and spend the rest of 
 onr days in the desert." 
 
 "You are going back to Europe?" 
 
 "If I live — a somewhat uncertain condition. And why not, 
 my dear Surry? I have no family, no ties here in my native 
 country. I am a mere estray — a leaf on the current. Why 
 should I not drift with the stream, and let it carry me where it 
 will ? Here I am hemmed in by convention. If I try to make 
 a young girl happy, at some cost, too, to myself — but we'll not 
 speak of that — the gossips buzz, and misrepresent my motives, 
 and even blacken my fair fame as a gentleman. It is not so 
 yonder. In the desert all these voices die away. On my horse, 
 with my arms by my side, I am free — perfectly free ! I can go 
 18
 
 4:10 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 where I will, act as I fancy — and the wind which sweeps the 
 sand never whispers what I say or do — for the eye and ear of 
 the Almighty alone sees and hears in the desert. Yes, I think I 
 will go back with Achmed — the East is the land of lands, and 
 we will bury there all the trouble we have felt in this." 
 
 Mordaunt rose as he spoke, and looked out into the night. 
 The dark, proud eyes, full of fire and melancholy, seemed en- 
 deavoring to plunge into the darkness. Then he banished, by an 
 obvious effort, the bitter thoughts which absorbed him, and said, 
 with his habitual calmness : 
 
 " You are going over the river in the morning, Surry ?" 
 
 " Yes, to see some friends." 
 
 " Well, I have a little journey to make, too ? If you return 
 this way in four days from this time, I hope you will stop again 
 and see me." 
 
 " I will certainly do so." 
 
 " Well, now let us get to sleep, my guest. You must be tired 
 after riding so far." 
 
 And Mordaunt made room for me on his cloak. 
 
 In half an hour I was sound asleep. 
 
 CXY. 
 
 SHOWING THAT, THOUGH YOU KNOW WHEN YOU SET 
 OUT, YOU DON'T KNOW WHEN YOU WILL ARRIVE, 
 
 When I awoke, soon after daylight, on the next morning, 
 Mordaunt was nowhere to be seen ; but Achmed was standing 
 by the fire. 
 
 As soon as I opened my eyes, he saluted me with his calm and 
 graceful courtesy, and, with a movement of his hand, called my 
 attention to a small camp-chest, upon the lid of which smoked 
 an appetizing breakfast. Mordaunt had, as usual, fulfilled all the 
 rites of hospitality; and Farley was soon speaking in high 
 commendation of the bitterly strong coffee. Hurrying through 
 with the meal, we got into the saddle — Farley's horse having
 
 THE PRIVATE SCOUT. 411 
 
 been fitted with four excellent new shoes — and then we set 
 forward. 
 
 Crossing the river at Hinson's Ford, we pushed on through the 
 morning sunlight, and, passing Orleans, found ourselves among 
 the hills of Fauquier, at that time constantly scoured by scouting 
 parties of Federal cavalry, bent on the capture of the formidable 
 Mosby. 
 
 "Now, Surry," said my smiling companion, "we had better 
 agree upon a programme. I have come across the river upon a 
 little private scout, as head-quarters began to grow tedious — and 
 I intend to pitch into the first Yankees I see, and have some 
 sport. I don't expect you, however, to do so," and his low 
 laughter followed, " for, from the General's jokes, I suppose 
 you are making a scout of a different sort, and are not in the 
 humor for any other." 
 
 " That is a good long speech, and I have heard you without 
 interruption, Farley," I said, laughing. " Suppose, however, we 
 wait until the moment comes, and leave circumstances to decide." 
 
 " Good ! that is right. I think it will come pretty soon, as 
 that man in Orleans said a party of Yankee cavalry were scout- 
 ing around near Barbee's." 
 
 Before we had reached Barbee's the truth of this report was 
 shown in a manner quite unmistakable. I was riding carelessly 
 along, when the low voice of Farley uttered the single word 
 "Hist!" and he immediately spurred his horse into a clump of 
 pine bushes on the side of the road. 
 
 I followed, and we had no sooner ensconced ourselves behind 
 the screen of verdant tassels, than the tramp of hoofs was heard 
 beyond a hill in front, and, in a few moments, a squadron of 
 Federal cavalry appeared upon the crest, and steadily ap- 
 proached. 
 
 "This is just what I want," whispered Farley, bending over 
 his horse's mane, and looking through the second-growth pines 
 "I am going to fire upon them, Surry, and run them off." 
 
 The thing seemed to me impossible — ignorant as I was of 
 the science of scouting — and I said so ; but Farley laughed, in his 
 low, confidential voioe, and replied :
 
 4:12 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " I know this sort of game better than you do, old fellow I 
 I'll bet that they run at the first fire !" 
 
 " From two men ?" 
 
 " So you are going to take a hand." 
 
 "Certainly, if you open the ball. I'll never desert a comrade, 
 Farley ; but I wouldn't be captured for worlds at the present 
 moment — and I am getting awfully demoralized!" 
 
 " You are right ! Just take that path yonder, and you will be 
 out of reach in ten minutes." 
 
 "And leave you?" 
 
 " Oh, I am used to them ! and they know me so well that a 
 price is set on me." 
 
 " If you are going to fire on them, now is the time." 
 
 "You stay?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Good ! then we'll open with a real volley — ten barrels, one 
 after the other ; and, if they crowd us, we wi'll fall back in good 
 order to the woods yonder!" 
 
 Farley's face glowed as he spoke ; his eyes danced ; his lips 
 were smiling. He was evidently in his element, and enjoyed the 
 prospect of the approaching collision. 
 
 It soon came. The squadron of blue-coats was now within 
 fifty yards, marching in columns of twos, preceded by their 
 captain, an officer with a bushy black beard ; and, cocking his 
 pistol, Farley levelled it over his horse's head, whispering : 
 
 "Wait till I give the word!" He waited until the column 
 was directly opposite, and then, shouting "Fire!" aimed at the 
 officer, and discharged barrel after barrel of his revolver. I 
 imitated him, and the sudden attack threw the column into the 
 wildest confusion. Taken completely by surprise, and wholly 
 ignorant of the force opposed to them, they scattered upon every 
 side ; and it was several moments before the voice of the com- 
 manding officer could be heard. 
 
 He shouted to them in a violent rage to rally, exclaiming, 
 "Charge the bushes! Fire on them! Charge!" and under 
 his rapid orders, the disordered column rallied, and poured a hot 
 fire into the bushes where we were standing.
 
 WE ARE CAPTURED. 413 
 
 "That won't hurt us!" said Farley, as the hullets whistled 
 around. " I've got a loaded revolver yet, and we'll try them again !" 
 
 As he spoke he drew the fresh weapon, and fired barrel after 
 barrel into the cavalry. 
 
 They had, however, discovered by this time the insignificant 
 number of their assailants, and, instead of charging straight into 
 the bushes, the officer in command ordered the party to deploy 
 and surround the spot, so as to cut off our retreat. 
 
 " Now comes the tug," said Farley in a low voice. " "We'll fall 
 back, so as to face them as they come." 
 
 And he galloped toward the wood he had pointed out to me, I 
 following. 
 
 Before we had gone fifty steps a rapid fire was opened upon us 
 from the rear ; and suddenly I saw Farley's horse go down. At 
 the same instant a ball inflicted a mortal wound on the animal I 
 was riding, and I found myself dismounted. 
 
 By this time the enemy had closed in upon us, and the air was 
 full of bullets hissing around us, and cutting the twigs from the 
 pines, or whacking against the trunks. Farley was shot three 
 times through the hat, and eight times through the skirts and 
 collar of his coat.* I was untouched— but in ten minutes we 
 were surrounded and captured. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the rage of the Federal commander 
 when he discovered that he had been thus audaciously attacked 
 by two men only. He stormed and swore at us in a manner so 
 frightful that I thought he was about to issue an order for our 
 instant execution by the bullets of the men. Fortunately, how- 
 ever, he became somewhat calmer, in consequence of this pro- 
 ceeding—the safety valve of oaths had " let off the steam "— - 
 and, wrathfully assuring us that we would be treated as bush- 
 whackers and guerrillas, he directed us to march in rear of the 
 column, now again in line. 
 
 This we accordingly did, but our slow pace impeded the ad- 
 vance, and we were finally mounted upon two horses, taken 
 from citizens — to which our saddles had been transferred. 
 
 * Historical. Tho whole is a real adventure of Farley's.
 
 414 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 As we thus went on, under guard, I had ample opportunity to 
 realize to the fullest extent my ill fortune. Was ever any thing 
 more unlucky ? An hour before, I had been within a few miles 
 of the woman whom I loved more than all the world beside — I 
 was going to hear that musical voice once more, bask again in 
 that golden smile — and now I was a prisoner, in the hands of the 
 enemy, doomed probably to languish for months to come in 
 some Northern prison ! At that moment, I think I would have 
 embraced any opportunity, although involving almost certain 
 death, to make my escape ; but the thing was quite impossible — on 
 every side the scowling blue-coats, with cocked carbines, made 
 the attempt desperate. 
 
 CXYI. 
 
 THE WOES OP BASKERVILLE. 
 
 This was the rather depressing condition of affairs, when, late 
 in the afternoon, the column, which had made a circuit through 
 the country, reached the neighborhood of the Pignut Mountain, 
 west of New Baltimore. 
 
 Here they halted in front of a large and elegant mansion, and, 
 accompanied by a portion of his command, the captain of the 
 troop strode up to the door. 
 
 What was my astonishment to see no less a personage than 
 Baskerville appear upon the threshold in irreproachable citizen's 
 costume, of black and white, without a particle of gray any- 
 where about him — Baskerville, smiling, winning, the soul of hos- 
 pitality and politeness to his visitors. 
 
 This warm reception, however, did not seem to make much 
 impression upon the Federal officer. 
 
 " Your name is Baskerville I" he said roughly. 
 
 " Yes, Captain," was the smiling reply. 
 
 " You are an officer in the Rebel army ?" 
 
 " Oh, by no means," came from the other, whose manner
 
 THE WOES OF BASKERVILLE. 415 
 
 became still more suave. " I had at one time a temporary con- 
 nection, in a subordinate capacity, with the Rebel forces, 
 Captain" — he said rebel ! — " but it was merely as an amateur ! The 
 fact is, I could never enter cordially into the treasonable schemes 
 of the rebels. I am a good Union man upon principle, Cap- 
 tain." 
 
 " Then you have no objection to taking the oath?" asked the 
 black-bearded worthy. 
 
 " Oh, not the least! I will take it with pleasure!" 
 
 "Are you a Virginian, Mr. Baskerville?" said the Federal 
 officer coolly. 
 
 " Yes, Captain." 
 
 "Born in this State?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 " Your family and friends are all here ?" 
 
 "All, Captain!" 
 
 " And some are in the service?" 
 
 " Nearly all of them." 
 
 " Then, in my opinion, Mr. Baskerville," returned the growl- 
 ing worthy, " you are a sneak, and I won't trust your oath ! I 
 have no opinion of you 'Union men,' who profess so much 
 loyalty, and can't find it in your hearts to go either with us or 
 with your native State — all because you want to save your crops 
 and horses and bacon, and don't want to risk your valuable 
 skins ! There may be some of your class who are obliged to 
 take the oath against their feelings, from family circumstances — 
 but I don't consider you one of them. I won't trust you, sir ! 
 "We want fresh horses!" 
 
 And, making a sign to the troops : 
 
 "Gut the whole place!" said black-beard. 
 
 It is astonishing how rapidly and completely this order was 
 obeyed. The troops scattered, and soon reappeared leading 
 about a dozen beautiful horses. 
 
 Baskerville's face was the image of despair, as he saw his 
 splendid horses thus about to be carried off ; but his troubles 
 were not ended. 
 
 " Now I want something to eat for myself and my command,"
 
 4:16 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 said the Captain. "Be quick with it. I am going to move 
 on!" 
 
 Baskerville obeyed this imperative order, and we could see 
 through the window a costly mahogany table covered with 
 dishes, containing hams, cold beef, bread — every edible ; and the 
 dishes were flanked by decanters of wine and brandy. 
 
 A motley rout threw themselves upon these viands; demol- 
 ished the meats, guzzled the liquids, and smash after smash of 
 china told the story of Baskerville's woes. 
 
 "They are playing the very devil in there!" said Farley, 
 laughing. " It is rather hard treatment for a good Union man !" 
 
 "Where are the prisoners?" I now heard the Captain shout- 
 ing ; " bring them in with the second relay !" 
 
 And we were conducted into the house. The scene was 
 striking. In a magnificent apartment, with rich carpet, elegant 
 furniture, and many pictures on the walls, the Federal officer 
 and his myrmidons were seated around the great dining-table 
 covered with the refuse of their repast — "broken meats," half 
 demolished loaves, and empty decanters. All were devouring 
 the substance of Baskerville with greedy mouths, the long ride 
 having whetted every appetite ; and over this wild crew pre- 
 sided the Federal captain, laughing, jesting, with a flushed face, 
 which betrayed an intimate acquaintance with Baskerville's 
 liquids. 
 
 "Bring in the prisoners, d — n 'em," said the Captain, "and 
 let 'em eat. We don't charge extra at this hotel." 
 
 And we were conducted to the table. 
 
 Suddenly my eye met Baskerville's, and I shall never forget 
 his expression. Was it wrath, shame, confusion — what? I 
 know not, but it was not agreeable. I could not despise this 
 man more thoroughly than before, but I pitied him. 
 
 He did not utter a word during the whole scene, and soon he 
 was rid of his unwelcome guests. We rose — neither Farley nor 
 myself had touched a mouthful. 
 
 "Fall in there!" shouted the Captain, walking unsteadily to 
 the door. " I am going to move on." 
 
 Then, turning to Baskerville, he said, with drunken gravity :
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE. 417 
 
 " Let me advise you, my friend, to go into the Rebel army 
 again. I won't have the pleasure of dining with you then ; but 
 no matter : you will be in a more creditable place than at 
 home!" 
 
 With these words, the speaker strode out, mounted unsteadily 
 into the saddle ; and the column again began to move. 
 
 Looking back, I saw Baskerville standing in his front door, 
 with a face full of rage and anguish — and I have never seen him 
 since. 
 
 The squadron moved now toward New Baltimore, but night 
 all at once descended, and the Captain, who rode on with a rather 
 sleepy air, ordered a halt. 
 
 In a few minutes the men had broken ranks, dismounted, and 
 picketed their horses to the trees of the secluded glade in which 
 the column halted; and it was evidently their intention to 
 spend the night there. 
 
 An hour afterward the men had cooked and eaten their ra- 
 tions ; the pickets were established, and the weary cavalry-men 
 wrapped themselves in their blankets, and began to snore. 
 
 Farley and myself had been placed under guard, but not 
 otherwise confined; and now lay side by side for warmth, under 
 a large oak, near a smouldering camp-fire. 
 
 Within three paces of us a dismounted cavalry-man walked to 
 and fro, with measured tread — his carbine in his hand — prepared 
 to obey to the letter, apparently, the order which he had re- 
 ceived, to kill us instantly if we made any attempt to escape. 
 
 CXYII. 
 
 I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A FAMOUS CHARACTER, 
 
 If you will turn, my dear reader, to the famous history which 
 
 has immortalized the name of Cervantes, you will find that the 
 
 characters of the drama, whenever they fall into difficulties, are 
 
 accustomed to bewail, in pathetic paragraphs, their unhappy 
 
 18*
 
 *lo SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 situation, and thus arouse, as far as possible, the interest and 
 sympathy of the reader. 
 
 Had I the genius of the great soldier and historian, I 
 might here dwell on the most unfortunate chance which had 
 thus dashed all my hopes, and extinguished, " at one fell swoop," 
 all my rosy dreams of soon meeting May Beverley again. But 
 ulas! I am only a humdrum ex-lieutenant-colonel and A. A. G., 
 drawing the outline of my life — not a dramatic writer at all. 
 Thus I am compelled to request the kind reader to place him- 
 eelf, if possible, in my situation, and to imagine how I felt. I 
 proceed to relate what ensued. 
 
 Farley and myself lay down, but, in spite of the long ride we 
 had taken, from dawn to dark, felt no disposition to sleep. My 
 companion at first remained so quiet that I thought he had fallen 
 asleep ; but a few moments afterward I found that this was far 
 from being the fact. Turning sluggishly over, as a man does 
 when changing his position during slumber, his lips were placed 
 close to my ear; and, in a whisper so low that the low singing 
 of the fire almost drowned it, he said : 
 
 "Don't go to sleep — lam going to escape. Don't answer — 
 listen!" 
 
 The guard turned and approached ; then, with measured step, 
 receded. He had evidently heard nothing. 
 
 " As soon as every thing is perfectly quiet," Farley whispered, 
 in the same low tone, " I will give the signal and spring upon 
 the sentinel. He will resist, and his carbine will go off in the 
 struggle — but I will wrench it from him ; it is a repeating rifle, 
 and then let the first man who attempts to stop me look to him- 
 self!" 
 
 I turned over, as Farley had done, and whispered : 
 
 " Give the signal when you are ready." 
 
 He moved his head slightly, and then lay perfectly still, with 
 his eyes closed ; but I could see that he was looking from under 
 the lids at the sentinel. 
 
 One by one all the noises of the camp subsided — the horses 
 ceased stamping — nothing was heard but the measured tramp of 
 the sentinel.
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE. 419 
 
 As he turned his hack in one of his rounds, Farley rose sud- 
 denly on his elbow and looked about him. 
 
 Not a movement among the recumbent figures greeted this 
 manoeuvre, and, as the guard turned, Farley was again appa- 
 rently sound asleep. 
 
 Once more the sentinel approached ; remained a moment 
 stationary beside the fire, warming his hands ; then he turned 
 his back once more on his round. 
 
 No sooner had he done so than Farley exclaimed "Now I" and 
 rose to his feet. With a single bound he was on the sentinel, 
 and clutched his weapon, while I caught him by the throat. 
 
 What we had anticipated took place. The carbine went off in 
 the struggle, and in an instant the camp was aroused, and we 
 were completely surrounded. Farley darted into the shadow 
 of the trees — I followed — and we commenced running; but 
 everywhere foes started up in our path, and the moment had 
 evidently come when we must surrender or die. 
 
 At that instant there suddenly resounded in our very ears the 
 sharp crack of pistols ; and, before I could realize the source from 
 which the sound issued, a wild cheer rang through the wood, 
 and a party of cavalry -men, in gray coats, rushed into tlie camp, 
 trampling over the Federal soldiers, who were seen running to 
 arms. 
 
 What followed did not occupy ten minutes. A scattering and 
 aimless fire came from the Federal cavalry-men, half of whom 
 were only partly awake ; and then, at the ringing order of a 
 slender individual, mounted on an iron-gray mare, they threw 
 down their arms, and offered no further resistance. 
 
 The slender personage leaped from horseback, by a camp-fire 
 burning beneath an oak, and, as he did so, I had a full view of 
 him. He was a man apparently about thirty years of age, of 
 middle height — thin, lithe, vigorous, and as active in all his 
 movements as a wildcat. His face was entirely beardless; his 
 hair light; his lips thin, and wreathed with a satirical smile, 
 which showed his brilliant teeth ; his eyes gray, sparkling, and 
 eternally roving from side to side. This personage wore a plain 
 gray suit, and a brown hat with a golden cord ; his only arms
 
 420 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 were two pistols in his loose swaying belt of black leather, 
 clasped over a red sash. 
 
 " Well !" he said, in brief, quick accents, as the prisoners were 
 ranged in a line by the fire, "how many horses ?" 
 
 A sergeant touched his hat, and said : 
 
 " I think there are about sixty, Major." 
 
 "How many prisoners?" 
 
 The sergeant counted rapidly. 
 
 " Fifty -five, Major." 
 
 u Where is the commanding officer ?" 
 
 "Here I am," growled our friend, the black-bearded ; "whom, 
 am I to surrender to ?" 
 
 " To Mosby," was the reply of the slender individual, with a 
 keen glance of his gray eye. 
 
 At the name of the formidable partisan, every prisoner turned 
 quickly and fixed his eyes upon the speaker. Mosby was evi- 
 dently their bugbear, and they expected, doubtless, to be shot 
 without ceremony, so persistent had the Northern journals been 
 in representing the partisan as a ruthless bandit. 
 
 Mosby's thin lips curled satirically. The evidence of interest 
 betrayed by his prisoners seemed to amuse him. 
 
 "See that these men are entirely disarmed," he said to a 
 lieutenant, " and then have their horses brought. I am going 
 back." 
 
 As he spoke, his eye fell upon myself and Farley. 
 
 "Who are these?" 
 
 Farley advanced, and, with a smile, held out his hand. 
 
 " You don't recognize your old friends, Mosby ?" 
 
 "Farley! Is it possible?" 
 
 " Yes, and this is Colonel Surry, of General Jackson's staff." 
 
 I had the honor of being stared at by the prisoners when the 
 name of Jackson was thus uttered, as Mosby had been. 
 
 He saw it, and laughed. 
 
 " Glad to recapture you, Colonel," he said ; " as we ride back, 
 I will get you to tell me your adventures. Captain Mount- 
 joy!" 
 
 An officer of erect and military carriage, calm expression, and
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE. 421 
 
 dark eyes, penetrating but sad, advanced at this summons, and 
 made the military salute. 
 
 " Captain, see that the prisoners are mounted and — hut you 
 are as white as a sheet, Mountjoy!" 
 
 "Only a little scratch, Major!" was the reply of the officer, 
 with a smile, hut as he spoke his form tottered. 
 
 Mosby caught him as he was about to fall, and turned with a 
 savage glare in his eyes toward the Federal captain, at whom 
 he shook his clinched hand. 
 
 " This man is worth the whole of you !" he growled, " and if he 
 dies!"— 
 
 Mountjoy opened his eyes, and rose erect. 
 
 " It was only a little faintness, Major," he said, smiling. " What 
 order did you give?" 
 
 " Richards will see to it, Mountjoy," was the reply. " Can 
 you ride ?" 
 
 " Without difficulty, Major." 
 
 And he turned toward his horse. 
 
 "Hold on a minute," said Mosby ; and, untying the red sash 
 around his waist, he bound up the bleeding arm of Captain 
 Mountjoy, and then assisted him to mount. 
 
 "That is one of my best and bravest officers," he said, as he 
 came back. " But we are losing time. I am going to move back, 
 gentlemen ; take such horses as you like." 
 
 In ten minutes the column of cavalry was moving on, with 
 the mounted prisoners. Farley and myself rode in front with 
 Mosby. 
 
 He laughed at the narrative of our mishaps, and I found him 
 a most agreeable companion. Perfectly simple and unassuming 
 in appearance and address, Mosby was not in the least like the 
 ferocious bandit which the correspondents of Northern journals 
 had represented him to be ; and it was hard, indeed, to realize 
 that the laughing personage, with the beardless face and careless 
 carriage, riding at my side, was the redoubtable chief of parti- 
 sans — the terror of the Federal invaders. 
 
 "My dear Major," I said, laughing, as we rode on, "you are 
 not at all like the bloody wild-boar of the Yankee newspapers.
 
 4:22 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 I think I could meet you in the woods of 'Mosby's Confederacy 1 
 here, without the least fear of having my throat cut or my pocket 
 picked by you or your gentry — things which our blue-coated 
 friends yonder evidently expected." 
 
 Mosby laughed. 
 
 " That is easily explained," he replied. " "When my men cap- 
 ture or destroy an army train, the Federal generals are crippled 
 i — they get into trouble at head-quarters — and they defend them- 
 selves by making me out a robber and bushwhacker, instead of 
 A chief of partisans." 
 
 " That is probably the origin of the whole thing." 
 
 " Undoubtedly. Why am I a 'bushwhacker,' Colonel? I am 
 regularly commissioned by the Confederate States War Depart- 
 ment as major of cavalry ; I command regularly enrolled troops ; 
 and I carry on open warfare, under the Confederate flag, and 
 wearing Confederate gray. Why am I a robber ? It is a part 
 of my duty to capture all the war material of the enemy I can, 
 including greenbacks, which are used in Loudoun and other bor- 
 der counties by our Government, and the want of which makes 
 the unpaid Federal soldiers dissatisfied. I have captured mil- 
 lions, and I am poorer to-day than when I entered the service." 
 
 " Which certainly pays badly." 
 
 " It pays me well in other ways. No man ever had better 
 friends than I have in this region and the Valley, both of which 
 I have tried to defend. I intend to fight for the possession of 
 the country to the last ; and, if the Confederate cause goes under, 
 I will be the last to lower my flag." 
 
 "Long may it wave over 'Mosby's Confederacy,' my dear 
 Major ! and may you always appear upon the scene at a time as 
 .lucky as to-night!" 
 
 Thus, in talk about many things, the night passed. At sun- 
 rise I parted with the gallant Mosby, and Farley, who decided 
 to remain and go upon another scout with him. The horse I 
 rode was Mosby's parting present to me. 
 
 On the same afternoon I came in sight of The Oaks.
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 423 
 
 OXVTII. 
 
 WHICH SOLVES THE WHOLE MYSTERY. 
 
 I approached the old mansion with mingled sensations — a 
 hundred conflicting surmises and emotions. 
 
 What was the meaning of that summons from May Beverley ? 
 Was her engagement broken off? What could have produced a 
 consummation so devoutly to he wished? Not Baskerville's 
 Union opinions. They were fully known to Colonel Beverley, 
 but had not induced him — fiery as his Southern feeling was — to 
 refuse compliance with his promise. He had regarded his word 
 to Baskerville's father as binding, despite these proclivities of 
 the young man : and thus I was completely at sea for an ex- 
 planation of my apparent good fortune. 
 
 Such was the puzzled frame of mind in which I approached 
 The Oaks ; and, as a man condemned to death, but hoping for a 
 pardon, rushes to the prison door to learn his fate, so now the 
 unfortunate Surry, burning with suspense, put spur to his horse, 
 and rapidly ascended the grassy hill, upon whose slopes the 
 fresh spring grass and the first flowers of April were beginning 
 to peep forth. 
 
 The eyes of a girl had seen the rapidly approaching figure 
 from the window of her chamber, I afterward knew ; and as I 
 entered the wide hall, she stood before me, as bright and beau- 
 tiful as a vision of the spring. 
 
 Before, the beloved form had glided onward by my side like a 
 dream of autumn — some dear illusion of the fading days when 
 the fingers of the wind strip, one by one, the leaves from the 
 trees, the blooms from the rose, the glory from the landscape of 
 the mountains. Now she stood before me — with her violet eyes, 
 her chestnut hair, her form as tall and flexible as the water-flag 
 upon the margin of the Shenandoah. No longer like a dream- 
 no more an illusion ; but warm and loving, with the deep, fond 
 blushes, and rosy smiles of a Virginia girl— far better, to my 
 thinking, than the fairest forms of Dreamland !
 
 4:24 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " You sent for me ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Kiss me first, May !" 
 
 Did the old portraits look down laughing, with their curious 
 eyes, at the spectacle of a woman in a man's embrace ? I think, 
 sometimes, that these " old people " see the drama of to-day as 
 they saw the tragedy or the comedy of the past ; that they hear 
 the sighs or the laughter, see the smiles and tears — are not dead 
 at all, but ever present with us ! 
 
 No one but May Beverley had seen me arrive — all the rest 
 were busy somewhere — and, in a moment, we were seated upon 
 the portico, and she was showing me some papers — with a deep 
 flush in her cheeks. 
 
 As I am growing old now, my dear reader, and like to " come 
 to business," I proceed to lay before you the contents of these 
 highly interesting documents, without further delay. You will 
 see that they solved all those puzzling questions which I had 
 been asking myself upon the road, in a manner — see the novel- 
 ists — " as curious as it was unexpected." 
 
 Here is Document No. 1, in the handwriting of Baskerville — 
 with all the italics preserved : 
 
 " Baskerville Villa, 
 
 "April 15th, 1863. 
 " Miss Beverley : 
 
 "Eor some time now it has been plain to me that our engage- 
 ment is distasteful to you, and that you wish to be released from 
 it. Considering the fact that you gave me ample encouragement, 
 and never, until you met with a person whom I need not name, 
 showed any dissatisfaction at the prospect of becoming Mrs. 
 Baslccrville, I might be justified in demanding the fulfilment of 
 your engagement. But I do not wish to coerce the action of 
 any young lady, however my feelings may be involved, and I scorn 
 to take advantage of a compact made in good faith by my late 
 father and myself. I therefore release you from your engage- 
 ment. 
 
 " Hoping that this will meet your approbation, I request that
 
 THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 425 
 
 you will return the bracelets — turquoise — the diamond ring, and 
 a breast-pin. In concluding. Miss Beverley, I am willing to bury 
 all animosity, and to be your friend — and if I can serve you in 
 any way, it will give me pleasure. I bear that the Union soldiers 
 have carried off all your servants, which must be a heavy blmo 
 at this time — and as I know personally the officer commanding 
 in this district, I may be able to get some of them back for you. 
 If agreeable to you, I will make the attempt — but not otherwise. 
 " Please reply by the bearer, who has orders to wait until he 
 gets an answer. 
 
 "I am 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 " Frederick Baskerville." 
 
 There is Document No. 1. Here is Document No. 2 — of which 
 the young lady had kept a copy : 
 
 "The Oaks, 
 
 "April 16th, 1863. 
 " Mr. Baskerville : 
 
 " I received your note. Thank you, sir ! If I could have in- 
 duced you to write that letter by kneeling before you, I should 
 have knelt to you. 
 
 " I am not angry at the terms in which you address me, or the 
 accusations you bring against me. But do you think it was 
 manly, sir, to charge me with bad faith, and with ' encouraging ' 
 you? I was almost a child when I formed that engagement — 
 years ago I repented of it, but you would not consent to have it 
 terminated. You availed yourself of my father's point of 
 honor in adhering to his word, and you cruelly refused to release 
 me from a contract which had become absolutely hateful to me, 
 until — shall I tell you when, sir? You had determined to force 
 me into this revolting marriage, and remained so determined 
 until — my property was gone. You compel me to tell you that, 
 sir — I know your motive as perfectly as though you had expressed 
 it in the plainest language. 
 
 "Your information in regard to the loss of the servants left
 
 426 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 me by my uncle, is entirely correct — not one is left — no, not one, 
 sir. I am absolutely penniless ; and papa, I believe, owes a great 
 deal of money — so my portion of The Oaks will be absolutely 
 nothing. You see, sir, I am poor — very poor. 
 
 " Do not give yourself any trouble about the servants, I beg. 
 I am afraid the institution of slavery is unscriptural, and nothing 
 could induce me to receive them back. Poor things ! they did 
 not know the trouble they caused me, and, doubtless, cannot 
 understand my heartfelt joy at seeing them safely under the 
 protection of your friend, the ' officer commanding in this dis- 
 trict.' 
 
 "I return the bracelets, ring, and breast-pin, with some other 
 little articles, which are your property. 
 
 " You are willing, you say, to bury all animosity, and remain 
 my friend. Yes, a thousand times, sir ! Thank you for your 
 letter, Mr. Baskerville ! I am your friend for life. 
 
 " Mat Beverley." 
 
 There is the "correspondence," my dear reader. What is 
 your opinion of it ? For my part, I would rather charge three 
 tiers of breastworks, manned with infantry, and flanked by 
 cannon, than receive such a letter from a woman like May 
 Beverley. The serene contempt of the production, and the 
 entire absence of any thing like anger, would have made me rage, 
 I think. 
 
 After reading Baskerville's letter, I had an ardent desire to go 
 and cut that gentleman's throat. After reading the young lady's 
 reply, I experienced a good Samaritan inclination to seek him 
 and bind up his wounds. Why should I force a quarrel on this 
 best of friends, who had so completely fulfilled my most cherished 
 wishes? Why should I find fault with those little hasty expres- 
 sions which escaped him in the heat of composition ? Under 
 other circumstances, I might have vented all my spleen upon 
 the affiance of Miss Beverley ; but Baskerville no longer figured 
 in that character — another individual occupied that relation to 
 the young lady — and that individual was too well satisfied to mar 
 the festive scene with blood.
 
 MAY BEVERLY, ETC. 427 
 
 I had just finished reading the young lady's letter when a 
 step behind me suddenly attracted my attention, and Colonel 
 Beverley, erect and smiling, issued forth and pressed my hand. 
 
 " I see May has shown you that very discreditable and insult- 
 ing letter, and her reply," said the old gentleman smiling. 
 
 " Yes, Colonel ; and I hope it changes every thing ?" 
 
 "Completely!" 
 
 And the old cavalier laughed heartily, as a young lady, with 
 a face all smiles and blushes, flitted through the door, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH MAT BEVERLEY PASSES AWAY FROM 
 THIS HISTORY. 
 
 Have you never observed the fact, my dear reader, that there 
 is nothing more stupid, in books or life, than happiness? It is 
 the trials and sufferings of the characters which interest us in 
 romances — the dear, delightful misfortunes of our friends which 
 render real life so cheerful and attractive. 
 
 Observe, as a proof of this latter statement, that, as long as 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Surry pined away for love of a young lady 
 who was affianced to another, his ill fortune excited the sym- 
 pathy of his friends; and the young ladies everywhere, who 
 knew his sad predicament, exclaimed with tender voices, " What 
 a pity!" But just as soon as every cloud passed away, and he 
 became engaged to Miss Beverley with the full consent of her 
 parents, all this sympathy disappeared : no more interest was 
 taken in him, and his friends gushed out in tender commisera- 
 tion of the woes of some other ill-starred lover. 
 
 So it would be with those unseen friends who will read their 
 humble servant's memoirs. They would not be amused by the 
 picture of tranquil happiness: the blushes and murmured words 
 would appear insipid — the stream, no longer broken into silver 
 ripples by the obstacles in its bed, would glide on tamely and 
 without a particle of " the picturesque."
 
 428 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 So to horse ! and back across the border ! Other events await 
 us. Hooker is about to advance — Stuart is in the saddle — and 
 perhaps, as we cross the Rappahannock again, we shall know 
 where Mordaunt has been journeying. 
 
 Yet ere you shake your bridle-rein, and bid farewell to the 
 good old Oaks, gentle reader — see, standing there in the April 
 sunshine, that slender form, as graceful as a flower of the gay 
 spring forest : that girl with the waving chestnut hair, which the 
 sunlight turns to gold; the violet eyes of a blue as deep and 
 tender as the glad sky overhead ; with the lips half parted aud 
 as rosy as carnations ; the cheeks full of blushes, the bosom 
 heaving — look at May Beverley, and tell me whether this little 
 Virginian flower was not worth the trouble which it cost a friend 
 of yours to place her in his bosom ? 
 
 I thought so then, when she was the little blossom of " The 
 Oaks " — I think so still, when she is the queenly rose of " Eagle's 
 Nest," with a young flower-garden blooming all around her. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 DIABOLISM. 
 
 I reached the banks of the Rappahannock without further 
 accident, and, crossing near Orleans, came in sight of Mor- 
 daunt's camp again, as the sun was sinking behind the Blue 
 Ridge. 
 
 Near the tent stood Mordaunt's powerful black horse, covered 
 with the foam of a hard journey, and as I dismounted, Mordaunt 
 issued forth, his uniform soiled with dust, apparently from the 
 same cause. 
 
 But I did not look at his uniform. The proud face riveted 
 my regard. Never have I seen upon human countenance a more 
 resplendent expression. Mordaunt's eyes were fairly radiant, 
 and his swarthy face glowed with passionate joy. There was 
 no mistaking that look. Here was a man whom some great 
 good fortune had made for the moment entirely happy.
 
 DIABOLISM. 429 
 
 " Good!" I exclaimed with a laugh. " Here you are, with the 
 air of a general who has just whipped the enemy, and cut him 
 to pieces, after a desperate struggle." 
 
 " Ah ?" was his reply with a dazzling look ; " do you think so, 
 Surry ? Am I then so gay ?" 
 
 " You are positively radiant, my dear Mordaunt ! Come, tell 
 me all about it!" 
 
 "About what, my dear, fanciful Surry? Upon my word, 
 you make me think, as I look at you, that one of my old maxims 
 is more than ever true." 
 " What is that ?" 
 
 " That when we are happy ourselves, the whole world seems 
 to be as fortunate, and every face beams with smiles!" 
 
 " Pshaw ! Mordaunt — stop all that talk. Your eyes are really 
 dazzling — you laugh at any and every thing. Explain ! explain !" 
 " I really have not time, Surry, even if I had any thing to tell 
 you." 
 
 " What! are the enemy advancing?" 
 
 " No, but I have an engagement. I am waiting for a gentle- 
 man who has an appointment with me in half an hour from this 
 time." 
 
 " Ah ? Can you mean— ?" 
 
 " Our young friend Harry Saltoun ? Certainly : you remember 
 my promise to him ?" 
 
 " And this evening he is to meet you here?" 
 "Precisely — and hold! yonder he comes, before the hour!" 
 As Mordaunt spoke, the young officer was seen approaching 
 from the river ; and very soon he had reached the spot where 
 we stood. Dismounting, he approached with a firm tread, and 
 saluted in turn both Mordaunt and myself. His air was grave, 
 stern, and resolute — his face gloomy and rigid — his eyes steady 
 and determined, but without menace. He seemed to feel that'he 
 was near the accomplishment of his object, and was resolved to 
 go through with the work before him, without passion or any 
 thing like a scene. 
 
 Mordaunt greeted him with grave and stately courtesy, bow- 
 ing low in reply to his salute. As they thus stood facing each
 
 430 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 other — the youth with his slender figure, his elegant propor- 
 tions, his classic face, and collected look — the elder with his tall 
 and athletic form, his face of bronze, and his proud and noble 
 glance — I thought that they were the most magnificent types 
 of youth and middle age which I had ever met with. 
 
 " You are punctual, Lieutenant Saltoun," said Hordauht, in the 
 same grave and courteous tone ; " it is the politeness of kings 
 and of gentlemen." 
 
 Saltoun bowed, but said nothing. 
 
 "Will you come into my tent, sir?" continued Mordaunt. 
 " Before making the arrangements which we have agreed upon, 
 I wish to say a very few words to you." 
 
 The young man's face exhibited a gloomy surprise at these 
 words, but he simply inclined his head, and, entering the tent, 
 sat down. 
 
 " Will you do me the favor to be present at this interview, 
 Colonel Surry ?" said Mordaunt, as I made a step toward my 
 horse ; " I particularly desire it, and request Lieutenant Saltoun 
 to agree to my wishes." 
 
 The young man slightly inclined his head — his eyes had never 
 relaxed their steady and gloomy expression — and I followed 
 Mordaunt into the tent. 
 
 He unbuckled his belt and laid his arms upon a desk, then 
 leaning his head upon his hand, he said, after a brief silence, and 
 in the same grave tone, as he gazed with a strange expression at 
 the youth : 
 
 "Before proceeding to make arrangements for the meeting 
 which you wish, Lieutenant Saltoun, I beg that you will listen to 
 a few words which it becomes my duty to pronounce. I am thirty- 
 eight years old, sir, and thus many years your senior. I have 
 seen in my time the death of many human beings, here and in 
 the old world. I do not like blood, and especially sbrink from 
 myself shedding it : hence, I am compelled, sir, by my con- 
 science — even though I offend against every rule of the code — to 
 ask that you will give me, as gentleman to gentleman, some 
 explanation of your motive in thus defying me to mortal com- 
 bat."
 
 DIABOLISM. 431 
 
 He paused, and for an instant silence reigned. Then, in a 
 cold and gloomy voiee, just touched with a sneer : 
 
 " Is it necessary to explain what an insult means, Colonel Mor- 
 daunt?" said the young man. "I choose to offer you a defiance, 
 and you choose to accept it, as I expected. Therefore, you 
 fight!" 
 
 " I must fight !" exclaimed Mordaunt. " And for a word, a 
 groundless taunt, I must kill you ! " 
 
 "Are you about to break your word, sir?" exclaimed the 
 young man with a fiery glance. " Beware, sir!" 
 
 "Do not threaten me, Lieutenant Saltoun," was the grave re- 
 ply ; " you ought to know that my nerves are steady, my repug- 
 nance to this meeting not the result of timidity, but of genuine 
 and conscientious feeling. If you think me unreasonable, let 
 our friend — the friend of both — Colonel Surry— decide. I will 
 abide by his decision." 
 
 Mordaunt turned to me as he spoke, and finding myself thus 
 appealed to, I said : 
 
 " There cannot be a moment's doubt of the propriety of 
 Colonel Mordaunt's request, Lieutenant Saltoun, and I certainly 
 think that you are bound to afford him this simple satisfaction 
 before you meet him, for the ease of his conscience. I declare 
 to you, upon my word as a man of honor, and the friend equally 
 of both, that I regard your compliance as imperative in foro 
 conscientiai.^ 
 
 These words seemed to produce the desired effect upon the 
 young man. His face flushed — a flash darted from his eyes. 
 
 "Be it so," he said. "I fight because Colonel Mordaunt has 
 outraged me — yes! has struck me mortally — to the very heart !" 
 
 And something almost like a groan tore its way through the 
 set teeth of the youth. 
 
 " I fight because he has made me wretched by his baseness — 
 has offered me a mortal insult by his action toward those I love I 
 — because but for him I would not be here with a broken heart, 
 an aimless life, a future dark and miserable!" 
 
 Not a muscle of Mordaunt's face had moved, but his eyes, as he 
 gazed at the flushed face of the young man, were resplendent.
 
 432 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 " You mean that I have thwarted you in your affection for 
 Miss Grafton!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "I have not the remotest reference to Miss Grafton!" was 
 the stern reply; "there is something more beneath this black 
 affair than the love of a girl ! There is more than rivalry, 
 Colonel Mordaunt — there is infamy !" 
 
 And with eyes which fairly blazed, the young man drew from 
 his bosom a paper which his moist hand clutched with savage 
 earnestness. 
 
 " You demand an explanation of my grounds of quarrel !" lie 
 said ; " you ask why I hate you, and intend to drive a bullet or 
 a sword's point through your heart ! Well, you shall know, sir! 
 Ton shall not die in ignorance. Read ! read, sir ! There is the 
 the record of your infamy!" 
 
 And, trembling with passion, the young man held out the 
 paper, which shook in his stern grasp. 
 
 Mordaunt took it from his hand, leaned back in his chair, ani 
 with not a trace of anger, but an air of unmistakable astonish- 
 ment, perused its contents. 
 
 As he did so, I could see a blush come to his cheek, his eyes 
 Hashed — then grew calm again. When he had finished reading 
 the paper, he turned back, evidently examining the handwrit- 
 ing, then he handed it to me, murmuring : 
 
 " He is not dead, then !" 
 
 The paper was in these words, written in a bold and vigorous 
 hand. 
 
 "Virginia, April 15th, 1863. 
 "Lieutenant Saltoun: 
 
 " An unknown friend, who takes an interest in you, writes 
 these lines, to put you in possession of facts which it is proper 
 you should be acquainted with. 
 
 " Listen, sir. You think yourself the son of Mr. Henry 
 Saltoun, of Maryland. You are wrong. Your father and 
 mother are both dead — the victims of one man's ceaseless hatred 
 ond persecution — following them to the very brink of the grave. 
 Would you know the facts in connection with them, and with 
 your life ? Listen : — Your father, whose name you shall on«
 
 DIABOLISM. 433 
 
 day know, lived near Frederick City, and was married, when he 
 reached the age of twenty-one, to a young lady whom he had 
 met in Virginia. Before he made her acquaintance she had been 
 pleased with a young Mr. Mordaunt — now Colonel Mordaunt, of 
 the Confederate cavalry — who loved her, but had never avowed 
 his love. Under these circumstances, your mother, then a girl 
 of only seventeen, was justified in accepting the addresses of 
 your father, and did accept them. They became engaged — were 
 married — and the happy pair went to live in Maryland. 
 
 " Now mark what followed. Your mother had broken no 
 faith with young Mordaunt — not a word of love had ever passed 
 between them — but no sooner had her marriage taken place, 
 than Mordaunt conceived a violent hatred against your mother 
 and father, charging the former with deception, and the latter, 
 who was merely a common acquaintance, with treachery. Pos- 
 sibly you know Colonel Mordaunt personally — if so, you can un- 
 derstand that, in a man of his violence of passion, hatred was, 
 soon succeeded by the desire for vengeance. Not only did that 
 thirst possess him, but his whole life soon became absorbed in plans 
 to wreak his hatred upon the happy couple. To achieve this 
 end, it was necessary to use caution and stratagem ; and very 
 soon everybody was speaking of the touching friendship which 
 existed between Mordaunt and your father. Mordaunt paid long 
 visits to his successful rival ; played with lain for large sums ; 
 lent him money whenever he wished it ; and was apparently the 
 best friend of the family. 
 
 " In a year or two, the consequence of this fatal intimacy was 
 seen. Your father was a gentleman of the noblest character, 
 and the most liberal disposition — indeed generous to a fault, and 
 utterly careless in money matters. Mordaunt never asked for 
 the sums which he had won at cards — lie took a note for The 
 amount, without looking at it, apparently. He never demanded 
 repayment of money lent — but he had your father's bonds. All 
 went on as smoothly as possible, not a cloud obscured the friend- 
 ship of the two intimates — but, one morning about two years 
 after the marriage, Mordaunt asked for payment of the sums d>ie 
 him. A frightful mass of debt at once stared your father in tno 
 19
 
 434 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 face, and he saw that he was utterly ruined if Mordaunt forced 
 payment — but there could surely be no fear of that ! His good 
 friend Mordaunt loved him too well to thus ruin him — it was 
 impossible that he could have the heart to press his claims — so 
 he laughed and asked for time. Mordaunt grew stormy, and in a 
 moment the smiling friend was a Shylock. ' Pay what you owe 
 me!' was his unchanging reply ; and even when the poor, sick 
 wife — soon to be your mother, sir — went to Mordaunt and be- 
 sought him to have mercy, he refused. The person who related 
 these events declared that she knelt to him, and that he spurned 
 her ; but this is probably exaggerated. 
 
 " Mordaunt's vengeance was now about to be sated. He acted 
 promptly. Your father's estate was sold to satisfy a deed of 
 trust upon it, which his enemy held — other claims swept away 
 every vestige of property which the young married pair owned 
 — and in the freezing winter of 1844, your father and mother 
 were driven fom their home, and forced to seek refuge in an 
 alniost roofless cabin in the neighborhood. Here they lived 
 with an old negress who had followed their fortunes, and now 
 slaved for them — but soon her care was not necessary. Your 
 mother, broken-hearted, and worn to a shadow by distress or 
 exposure to the chill blasts of winter, died in giving you birth ; 
 and three weeks afterward your father followed her. Before 
 his death, however, he had an interview with Mordaunt, who 
 now occupied the house in which he had formerly been a guest. 
 Your father went to beg — yes, to beg — a small pittance for his 
 infant son — yourself; went in rags, and humbly, to his former 
 friend ; and that friend rose from his wine, to go out to the door 
 where the beggar — your father — stood, and refuse, insult, and 
 strike him. When your father sprang at him, and caught him 
 6y the throat, it was the negroes, Mordaunt's servants, who 
 hurled him through the door, and slammed it in his face ! 
 
 " I have nearly done, sir. The rest may be soon told. Your 
 tather followed your mother, and you were left a helpless infant, 
 with no friend but the old negress — with no friend, but with an 
 enemy. More than one threat of Mordaunt against ) on reached 
 tno old woman's ears, and fearing the power and cunning of
 
 DIABOLISM. 435 
 
 this implacable man, the old negress one night took you in her 
 arms, walked many miles to the house of a rich and childless 
 gentleman, whose excellent wife was known through all the 
 country for her kindness ; and at daylight you were deposited 
 at the door of Mr. Saltoun, and duly discovered by his wife. 
 
 u Yoa know the rest. You were brought up as his son, but 
 must have suspected more than once, from some careless speech 
 or reference, that you were not such. When the war broke out, 
 you entered the Southern army — and a strange fate has thrown 
 you with the murderer of your father and mother. 
 
 " Such is your real history. You may say that this statement 
 comes from an unknown source, and may be false throughout. 
 Be it so. The writer of these lines must rest under that impu- 
 tation, for to sign his name here would subject him to the 
 vengeance of the man whom he has exposed. He may even 
 know my handwriting, and I would beg you not to let it meet 
 his eye. One proof of the truth of what I utter I can afford 
 you. Go to Colonel Mordaunt — look him in the eyes — say, 
 1 What has oecome of Frances CarletonV — and mark his face as 
 you speak. Anger brings a flush to the cheek — the conscious- 
 ness of infamy, a deep pallor. If he turns pale at that name, 
 you can form your own opinion. 
 
 " Mordaunt is the murderer of your father and your mother — 
 the name of the former you shall one day know. I reveal this 
 mystery, because you ought to know it, to guide your action 
 after the war. At present you cannot fight Colonel Mordaunt — 
 he is your superior, and would punish you for even proposing 
 such a thing, unless you offer him such an insult as will arouse 
 his hot blood. 
 
 "Of that you must be the judge. Be cool, be cautious, but 
 remember your wrongs ! 
 
 "A Fkiexd." 
 
 There was the letter. I dropped it in a maze of wonder. 
 What hand could have framed this web of incredible ingenuity 
 —of diabolical falsehood? The father of lies himself might 
 have envied the consummate skill of the secret enemy who con-
 
 436 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 cocted this story — and, after reading the contents of the paper, 
 I remained in a state of stuyid astonishment until I was aroused 
 by the voice of Mordaunt. 
 
 "You see I did not kill him, after all, Surry," he said; "and 
 this letter is his great blow in return for my lunge that night !" 
 
 " Fenwick I" I exclaimed ; " did Fenwick write that?" 
 
 "Yes — it is in his handwriting, and here is the date: not a 
 fortnight ago. But we will speak of this hereafter. I have 
 something else to occupy me now." 
 
 And, as he spoke, Mordaunt looked at young Harry Saltoun, 
 who remained cold, silent, and threatening. 
 
 That glance sent a thrill to my very heart, and filled me with 
 vague and trembling emotion. What did it mean ? I knew not, 
 but I knew that it was as rapid and dazzling as the lightning 
 itself. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 WHERE MORDAUNT HAD BEEN, AND THE RESULT OP 
 
 HIS JOURNEY. 
 
 When Mordaunt spoke, his voice was grave and measured; 
 but his eyes had still that proud and brilliant light in them — not 
 for an instant did it change. 
 
 "Lieutenant Saltoun," he said, looking steadily into the cold 
 and haughty face of the young man, " in this whole affair you 
 are the victim of a plot so deep and infamous, that no one but a 
 devil, in human shape, could have framed it. Your lip curls 
 with incredulity, and some scorn, I think — you naturally suspect 
 that I am going to defend myself, to offer explanations, to 
 acknowledge some things, palliate others, and endeavor to escape 
 the wrath of the son by smoothing over my treatment of the 
 father. Not at all, sir — I have not the least intention of doing 
 any thing of the sort. That father, you believe in, never had 
 any existence. I was never, in my life, near Frederick City, 
 until I went there at the head of my regiment, last year ; your
 
 WHERE MORDAUNT HAD BEEN. 437 
 
 mother's name was Frances Carleton — and that is the single 
 grain of truth in this mass of devilish falsehood!" 
 
 Mordaunt's voice sounded deep, sonorous, and rejoiceful, even 
 when he uttered the name of the woman he had loved. There 
 was not a trace in it now of the gloom and reluctance which 
 he had once shown in pronouncing it. Some greater emotion 
 seemed to have swallowed up every other. 
 
 " Give me your attention, Lieutenant Saltoun, and you, my 
 friend," he added, turning to me. " I design nothing less than 
 to narrate my w r hole life — to conceal absolutely nothing. Then, 
 when I have done, you shall sit in judgment upon me and my 
 career — decide in what light I deserve to he regarded — and 
 then, if I am to fight in this quarrel, why, pardieu ! I will fight ! 
 Yes, to the death !" 
 
 What was it that made Mordaunt's face, his voice, the very 
 carriage of his person, as he spoke, so animated, proud, almost 
 resplendent ? I looked and listened with a sort of wonder. 
 
 " Of every word I utter, you shall have the proofs!" he con- 
 tinued. " Oh ! be not afraid ! You shall have a legal affidavit, 
 if that is necessary, for every incident ! Listen, then, and do 
 not interrupt me, until I have finished my relation !" 
 
 Then, without appearing to observe the astounded looks of 
 Saltoun, or my fixed regard, Mordaunt deliberately — with 
 scarcely a change in his voice — related what I had heard from 
 the lips of Fenwick, on that night in the Wilderness. From the 
 journal of the poor, betrayed wife, he had learned almost every 
 thing — he had guessed the rest. 
 
 For more than two hours the deep voice resounded — the narra- 
 tor continued speaking without interruption. During this time, 
 Harry Saltoun's face turned red, then pale, at times — he bad 
 leaned forward unconsciously with a fixed light in his eyes — 
 some vague conception seemed rising slowly like a midnight 
 moon upon the darkness of his mind. 
 
 Mordaunt continued his narrative to the very end, described 
 the burial of his wife on that night at the Stone House near 
 Manassas, and then spoke of his bitter years of exile, spent in 
 looking for his enemy, and then in fighting among the Arabs, to
 
 438 SURRY OF E AG-LE'S-NEST. 
 
 drown his wretchedness. Then a few words were given to his 
 life in Virginia, his career in the army, and his meetings with 
 Fenwick, whose authorship of the letter was distinctly shown. 
 Lastly, he returned, all at once, to the subject of his wife's ab- 
 duction, and said, in a low voice, which trembled slightly, in 
 spite of every effort which he made to control it : 
 
 "The son, born thus, during my absence, did not die — he is 
 alive, and well, at this moment!" 
 
 "Alive !" I exclaimed ; " and have you discovered him ?" 
 
 " "Wait, Surry ! Let me proceed, step by step. It is a train 
 of events I am narrating — hear me without interruption. This 
 time I am going to give you written vouchers for my statements 
 — here they are." 
 
 And Mordaunt drew from his breast a leather case, from which 
 he took and placed before him, on his desk, two or three 
 papers. 
 
 "The first I shall show you," he continued, " is a note from 
 Miss Grafton, received a few days since. Read it aloud, Surry." 
 
 I took the paper — it was the same which Mordaunt had drawn 
 from his breast as we conversed beside the camp-fire, four days 
 before — and read the following words : 
 
 " Elm Cottage, 
 
 "April 19 th. 
 "Colonel Moedauxt: 
 
 " I have just had a visit from Mrs. Parkins, and she has made 
 some astonishing disclosures, of the deepest importance to you. 
 She declares that you have a son now living, and, before she left 
 me, I succeeded in discovering that you will be able to learn all 
 about him by visiting a Mrs. Bates, near Frederick City, Mary- 
 hind, who is in some way connected with this mysterious affair. 
 I think that Mrs. Parkins went to Maryland to inquire into tins, 
 with the design of obtaining a reward from you — but she has 
 now left Elm Cottage, and I do not know where you will find 
 her. 
 
 " You ought to know this without delay — your heart has been 
 very heavily tried, sir.
 
 RESULT OF MORDAUNT'S JOURNEY. 439 
 
 " This is sent by one of your men, who staid last night. 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " Violet Gkafton " 
 
 " When that paper reached me," said Mordaunt, speaking with 
 an effort. li I procured four days' leave of absence, and went to 
 Maryland.'' 
 
 " Yon found the woman!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes. and here is the result." 
 
 JJe handed me, as he spoke, another paper, which I grasped 
 with eagerness, and read rapidly. 
 
 It was an affidavit from Mary Bates, of Frederick County, 
 Maryland, that, some time in the winter of 1844, a gentleman 
 named Fenwick had stopped at her house, with a lady whose 
 name the affiant did not discover — that the lady had, on the 
 night of her arrival, given birth to a son — been attacked by 
 puerperal fever — lost her reason — and was removed, the affiant 
 always understood and believed, to a private asylum, by her 
 companion, Fenwick. The son was taken by Fenwick, a week 
 after his birth, as affiant afterward discovered, to the house of 
 a gentleman some miles off. and left at his door, with nothing to 
 identify the child's parentage, unless there was some private 
 mark upon a watch which had belonged to the lady, and was 
 placed around his neck by her, in a lucid interval, when she 
 recognized her child. This watch had been left upon the per- 
 son of the infant, affiant knew, and was still in his possession, 
 unless Fenwick removed it after taking the child away. 
 
 The gentleman at whose door the infant was thus left, affiant 
 stated, was named Saltoun 
 
 I dropped the paper, and looked at Harry Saltoun. He was as 
 pale as death, and trembled in every limb. By a mechanical 
 movement, he drew from his breast the watch which I had 
 brought from Maryland. Mordaunt seized it, and touched a 
 spring in the handle — the case flew open, and in a private com- 
 partment I saw an exquisite miniature of Mordaunt — young 
 and fresher-looking, but a wonderful likeness still — under which 
 was cut in the golden surface, the words: "Fur my own 
 Frances"
 
 440 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Mordaunt pointed to it — his cheeks flushed, his eyes spark- 
 Eng — and said, in a voice of inexpressible tenderness : 
 
 " That is the likeness of your father, Harry — this watch his 
 wedding present to your mother!" 
 
 As he spoke, Mordaunt opened his arms, and the young man 
 fell sobbing on his breast. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 BOOTS AND SADDLES 
 
 By noon on the ensuing day I was again at " Camp Pelham," 
 
 I hope that the reader approves of the summary style of 
 narrative — the convenient elision of all those scenes which are 
 either too dull or too full of emotion to admit of description. 
 "What writer is equal to the task of painting the meeting 
 between a father and the son who has been lost to him fur near- 
 ly twenty years — who dare intrude upon that sacred mystery of 
 parental love, melting the soul of iron, convulsing the face of 
 bronze, and bringing tears to those fiery eyes that scarcely ever 
 wept before ? 
 
 Nor have we time to pause at every scene — for we are living 
 over again an epoch crowded with vicissitudes, adventures, 
 emotions, treading on each other's heels. In the days of peace, 
 dear youthful reader, you hang around Inamorita, and lay siege 
 to her in form. But in war you press hands, smile — kiss, it may 
 be — then to horse, and she is gone ! In peace, you follow your 
 friend's body to the church and the cemetery, where you stand 
 uncovered during the solemn service- — in war, you see him fall, 
 amid the smoke of the conflict, you groan out " Poor fellow !" 
 but you are carrying an order, and you never see him more. A 
 sigh, a tear, a last look at his face — he has dropped out of life, 
 and the drama roars over him — you forget him. War hardens 1 
 
 Listen! there is the laughter of Stuart as he welcomes us. 
 
 We are again at " Camp Pelham," and the red battle-flag flaunts
 
 BOOTS AND SADDLES. 441 
 
 m the April sunshine as before, couriers come and go with jing- 
 ling spurs, officers with clanking sabres — that gay cavalry sound 
 — and there is the bugle sounding the " stable call " from the 
 camp near by ! As its loud triumphant music rings in the 
 wind, it seems like a summons to the field of battle — where soon 
 it will sound now, for the days of conflict hasten. 
 
 Stuart greeted me most cordially, asked with deep interest 
 "how I had left sweet Evelina, dear Evelina?" and then intro- 
 dued me to a tall and very courteous officer, wearing the uni- 
 form of a brigadier-general, who Avas attentively examining a 
 map of the surrounding region. General "William II. F. Lee — 
 for the officer was that gentleman, a son of the commanding 
 general — saluted me with cordial courtesy, and the conversation 
 turned upon a variety of subjects. I don't intend to record it, 
 my dear reader : if I set down every thing that was said in my 
 hearing, during the late war, what a huge volume my memoirs 
 would fill! 
 
 There are ten words of General "William H. F. Lee, however, 
 which shall here be recorded. I had spoken of the passion 
 some generals seemed to have for fighting upon any and every 
 occasion — with or without object — and General Lee replied : 
 
 " Colonel, I would not have the little finger of one of my 
 brave fellows hurt unnecessarily, for all the fame and glory that 
 you could offer me."* 
 
 That would make a good epitaph on an officer's tomb — would 
 it not, my dear reader ? But I trust that a long time will elapse 
 before the brave and kindly heart which prompted the utterance 
 will need a tomb or an epitaph ! 
 
 " "Well, Surry," said Stuart, " the ball is about to begin. 
 Hooker is going to advance." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Yes, look out for your head!" 
 
 " He is going toward Chancellorsville this time, is he not, and 
 General Lee will fight there ?" 
 
 Stuart made no reply. 
 
 * His words. 
 19*
 
 442 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "I merely ask for information," I said, laughing, "as Ohan- 
 cellorsville seems to be the strategic point ; is it not, General ?" 
 
 " You can't prove it by me!" was the gay reply of Stuart, in 
 a phrase which all who knew him will remember his fondness 
 for. 
 
 " Well, I see you intend to seal your lips, General. At least 
 you can tell me whether, in case I remain a day longer, I shall 
 have your cavalry as an escort to the Rapidan." 
 
 " Ah ! you are preparing the public mind for falling back, are 
 you? Wait and see!" 
 
 " Well, I accept your invitation, General. Oh ! I forgot. Miss 
 Evelina sent her warmest regards to you — provided I did not 
 tell you her name!" 
 
 " Out with it ! Who is she ?" 
 
 " Her name is Incognita, and she lives in Dreamland. She 
 sent you this bunch of flowers, with the message that she wishes 
 she was a man, that she might follow your feather !" 
 
 Which were exactly the words of Miss May Beverley at our 
 parting. 
 
 Stuart laughed, put the flowers in his button-hole, and said: 
 
 " A man ! I'm much mistaken if you are not very well satis- 
 fied with her as she is. Well, give my love to her when you see 
 her, Surry, and tell her I mean to be present at her wedding !" 
 
 The promise was carried out ; and, although she blushed 
 then, May boasts to-day that she kissed the "flower of cava- 
 liers." 
 
 But I anticipate. Stuart had hardly uttered the words above 
 recorded, when a courier came in in haste, and handed him a 
 dispatch. He read it, and, turning to General W. H. F. Lee, 
 said: 
 
 "General, get your men in the saddle. Hooker is moving!"
 
 BOGY, MOONSHINE, SNAKEBUG. 443 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 IN WHICH BOGY, MOONSHINE, AND SNAKEBUG ALL 
 
 "GO UNDER." 
 
 Stuart was in the saddle before daylight, and his head-quar- 
 ters disappeared as if a wind had blown them away* " Camp 
 Pelham " was no more. 
 
 As we passed through the Court-House, en route for the Rap- 
 pahannock, Farley was seen rapidly approaching, and very soon 
 he was in eager, confidential conversation with Stuart. I after- 
 ward ascertained that he had penetrated the Federal camps, 
 procured important intelligence, dogged the enemy as they 
 moved, and, crossing the river in the midst of their cavalry col- 
 umn, which he was enabled to do safely by wrapping his oil- 
 cloth closely around him, reached General Stuart in time to put 
 him in possession of most valuable information. 
 
 As we approached Stevensburg, a little Village to the right of 
 Brandy Station, the long, dark columns of Stuart's main body of 
 cavalry were seen drawn up in line of battle in the fields. 
 
 General TV. H. F. Lee came to meet us, and his report no 
 longer left any doubt of the situation. 
 
 Hooker was moving with the Fifth, Eleventh, and Twelfth 
 Corps of his army, by way of Kelly's Ford, and had already 
 crossed; General Sedgwick,* as prisoners reported, was ordered 
 to cross simultaneously at Fredericksburg with the First, Third, 
 and Sixth Corps, to hold Lee in check there ; and General 
 Couch, with the Second Corps, was opposite Banks's Ford, below 
 Chancellorsville, ready to cross and unite with Hooker, as soon 
 as he had passed the Rapidan. As wo subsequently ascertained, 
 General Sedgwick had orders, as soon as the main column crossed 
 above, to return to the northern bank of the river at Fredericks- 
 
 * When I came to this name, in reading the MS. of these memoirs, Colonel Surry 
 said : " I remember a ion-mot of General Sedgwick about Stuart, which I have on 
 good authority. One day, when he was sneaking of the Southern generals, he said : 
 ' Stuart is the very best cavalry officer that ever was foaled in North America I' "
 
 444 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 burg, march up the stream, cross over at United States Ford 
 opposite Ohancellorsville, and unite, like Couch, with Hooker. 
 
 Then the whole Federal army would be safely across the Rap- 
 pahannock directly upon General Lee's flank ; and that com- 
 mander must retreat upon Richmond, or fight upon ground 
 selected by his adversary. 
 
 At the moment when I went, in company with Stuart, toward 
 the Rappahannock, this design was not developed: but the 
 work before the cavalry was plain enough. Hooker's infantry 
 column was supported by a heavy force of cavalry, under Gene- 
 ral Stoneman — destined, as we soon found, to strike at the Vir- 
 ginia Central Railroad, near Gordonsville ; and to check, if possi- 
 ble, this dangerous movement, was a main part of Stuart's task. 
 The remainder was to hang upon the front and flanks of the 
 infantry, harass their march, and impede, in every manner, their 
 advance, until General Lee was ready to meet them upon his 
 own ground. 
 
 Such is a brief and rapid resume of the situation. From 
 the generalization of the historian, I now descend to that de- 
 scription of scenes and incidents which is the province of the 
 memoir writer. 
 
 Stuart took command of his column and advanced toward 
 Kelly's Ford, where Hooker had already crossed. 
 
 As the sun rose, we could see from a hill the dense masses of 
 Federal infantry crowding the banks of the river — their heavy 
 parks of artillery ready to move — and their glittering cavalry 
 drawn up in line of battle. It seemed a veritable invasion of 
 Attila. The task of breaking to pieces that mighty war-machine, 
 bristling with cannon, bayonets, and sabres, appeared almost 
 hopeless. Soon it began to move, to the resounding music of 
 the magnificent bands ; and, above the hum of the multitude and 
 the roll of the drums, rose the clear and ringing blasts of the 
 cavalry bugles. 
 
 Did you ever see three army corps in motion, my dear reader? 
 It is a splendid spectacle, and you take a peculiar interest in it 
 when you know that they must be met and driven back at the 
 point of the bayonet 1
 
 BOGY, MOONSHINE, SNAKEBUG. 445 
 
 Again I recognized that day in Stuart, as T had often recog- 
 nized before, the splendid faculties which indicate the horn 
 master of the art of war. An eye that took in at a glance every 
 trait of the ground ; a coolness in making his dispositions, so 
 perfect that it resembled apathy ; but a recklessness, when once 
 engaged, which many would call rashness — there is what I saw 
 in Stuart. He handled his command as the perfect swordsman 
 grasps his trusty weapon, ready to parry or strike ; and as he 
 rode on to the front, the exclamation of the men, " There goes 
 old Stuart, boys! it's all right!" indicated that confidence in his 
 generalship, which many an arduous and trying scene had im- 
 pressed them with. They saw before them the guiding mind, 
 and saluted it, as I did. In the stout young cavalier, so gay and 
 boyish upon ordinary occasions, these fiery spirits recognized 
 their master ; and the cheers which greeted him as he went on to 
 the front, said plainly: "We are ready to live or die with you!" 
 
 In fifteen minutes after Stuart's arrival, his advance had 
 struck the enemy ; and in front of the dismounted sharpshooters 
 I saw the tall form of Mordaunt, as, riding slowly up and down, 
 amid a storm of bullets, he cheered on the men. 
 
 "Look at Mordaunt yonder — always at the front!" said 
 Stuart. 
 
 And, humming a song,* he rode down to the line of sharp- 
 shooters, which had now become hotly engaged. 
 
 " Well, Mordaunt," lie said, "how are things going? Can 
 you hold your ground ?" 
 
 " For half an hour, General — not longer. They are bringing 
 up a heavy force to attack me, and I suppose I shall have to fall 
 back." 
 
 " Don't retire until you are forced to. Who commands the 
 sharpshooters yonder on your right?" 
 
 " Lieutenant Saltoun.' 
 
 * Colonel Surry expressed to me his fear that these descriptions of General Stuart'* 
 personal habita would be regarded by many, who did not know their accuracy, as the 
 product of the writer's fancy. I can myself testify, however, to their fidelity, hav- 
 ing had the honor of seeing the groat cavalier in inaDy battles, and of witnessing hi* 
 peculiarities.
 
 446 SURRY OF EAGLE'S*NEST. 
 
 " He's made of the right stuff. Look ! he is advancing !" 
 
 In fact, Harry Saltoun, by which name I shall continue to cal) 
 him, was seen pressing forward in front of his line, amid a haih 
 storm of balls, waving his sabre, and cheering. 
 
 Stuart galloped toward him, and was soon at his side. 
 
 "How goes it, Saltoun !" 
 
 "Glorious, General!" exclaimed the youth; "we are driving 
 'em!" 
 
 As he spoke, a bullet passed through his hat, and he burst into 
 a laugh. 
 
 " Look, General !" he exclaimed, " the rascals have spoiled 
 my best hat! — but we've spoiled some of their blue coats!" 
 
 A loud hurrah from the sharpshooters resounded as he spoke, 
 and, as the enemy fell back, a column of cavalry, sent by Stuart, 
 swept down, at full gallop, upon their right flank, and threw 
 them into wild disorder. 
 
 We galloped to the point, and found the column in possession 
 of a long train of wagons, which had moved by a parallel road 
 toward the front ; and the men were now seen striking their 
 teams with their sabres, to force them into a gallop, and so 
 secure the prize. Others, however, had yielded to the passion 
 for plunder, and, as I came opposite a fine wagon, evidently be- 
 longing to some general's head-quarters, I saw our old friend, 
 Captain Bogy, dart toward it like a hawk swooping at a fat 
 chicken. At the same moment, Moonshine and Snakebug, 
 couriers at head-quarters, who had scented the plunder, also ap- 
 peared upon the scene — and, leaping from their horses, plunged, 
 head foremost, into the wagon. Bogy followed, or rather led 
 them, intent on booty ; and then, what I saw was this — three 
 bodies, half concealed under the canvas covering, and six legs, 
 kicking in the air, as the bold raiders rapidly rifled the rich con- 
 tents of the wagon. 
 
 Saw plainly — but saw for an instant only ! Fast approached 
 the relentless and implacable fate ! 
 
 Even as Bogy's fat legs kicked the unresisting air ; even as 
 Moonshine's hands were seen transferring valuable articles to his 
 capacious pockets, and Snakebug's form was disappearing wholly
 
 THE LAST OF FARLEY. 447 
 
 \n the wagon, at this interesting crisis came the hand of 
 Destiny I 
 
 A line of Federal infantry swept forward at a double-quick ; 
 a tremendous volley resounded; and, as I fell back with the 
 cavalry, I saw rough hands grasp the fat legs of Bogy — sharp 
 bayonets prick the astonished backs of his co-laborers — with cue 
 fell rush the blue stream roared over tbem — and Bogy, Moon- 
 shine, Snakebug yielded and "went under," never more to re- 
 appear in this history. 
 
 They were " game to the last " — those brave, heroic spirits ! 
 They stuck to their great principle even in that hour of peril— 
 their principle that " Yankee wagons " were made to be plun- 
 dered, and that every good Southerner ought to " go through " 
 the same, wherever found, or perish in the attempt ! 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 THE LAST OF FARLEY. 
 
 The hard work had now begun, and, in every portion of the 
 field, Stuart was obstinately opposing the advance of the enemy 
 — sending dispatch after dispatch, as the morning wore on, to 
 General Lee. 
 
 The enemy continued to press him back, as their heavy masses 
 surged forward, but he fell back fighting over every foot of 
 ground, and inflicting very serious loss upon them. 
 
 During the movement, Stuart Avas everywhere, cheering the 
 men, holding his line steady, and animating all by his splendid 
 gayety and courage. In the dazzling blue eyes you could see the 
 stubborn will that would not bend — the steady flame, winch 
 showed how dangerous this man was when aroused. In front 
 of his sharpshooters or charging at the head of his column, as 
 ho met, sabre to sabre, the on-coming enemy, Stuart resembled, 
 to my eyes, the incarnate genius of battle. 
 
 But. I hasten on in mv narrative. I cannot describe the
 
 448 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 master-movements of the great commander of the Virginia 
 cavalry — vindicating here, as on many another hard-fought field, 
 the supreme genius for war which lay beneath that laughing 
 eye, that boyish manner. I do not even think of Stuart 
 now, when I go back to those days — my memory dwells with a 
 lingering and sorrowful glance upon the form of one who 
 there, in that unknown skirmish, gave his young life to his 
 country. 
 
 By the side of Stuart, in the thickest of the fight, was Farley ; 
 and never have I seen, upon human face, an expression of enjoy- 
 ment more supreme than on the young South Carolinian's as he 
 rode amid the bullets. The soft, dark eyes, habitually so mild 
 and gentle, flashed superbly at that moment ; the mobile lips 
 were smiling — the whole face glowing and resplendent with the 
 fire of battle. As he galloped to and fro, pointing out to Stuart 
 every movement of the enemy — the position of their batteries, 
 which now had opened with a heavy fire of shell, and the direc- 
 tion taken by the cavalry, moving on the flank — his eyes flamed, 
 his cheek burned hot. Never have I seen a more perfect model 
 of a soldier. 
 
 "There they come, General!" he exclaimed, as a dark line 
 was seen advancing on the left, in order of battle. " Oh ! if 
 Pelham were only here!" 
 
 Suddenly, the fierce rush of a shell filled the air with its un- 
 earthly scream — a crash, accompanied by a low cry, succeeded — 
 and Farley's horse was hurled to the ground, a crushed and 
 bleeding mass, which writhed to and fro in a manner frightful to 
 see. 
 
 Beside him lay the young man — already dying. 
 
 The shell had struck him upon the side of the knee — torn off 
 his leg — and, as we hurried to him, he was gasping in the agonies 
 of death. 
 
 "Farley!" exclaimed Stuart, leaping to the ground beside 
 him, " look at me, Farley!" 
 
 The eyes, over which the mists of death were creeping, slowly 
 opened — a flash of the old fire shone in them — and, half extend- 
 ing his arms, the dying officer murmured :
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 449 
 
 '' Send me home to my mother !" * 
 
 Then his head fell hack. lie was dead. 
 
 Stuart gazed at him for an instant, with a flush upon his face 
 — muttered something in alow, deep voice — and then, making a 
 motion to some cavalry-men to take up the hody, slowly got into 
 the saddle again. 
 
 As he did so, I heard him murmur : 
 
 "Serving on my staff seems fatal !" 
 
 More than ever was the truth of this shown afterward: 
 Price, killed at Chancellorsville ; Fontaine, at Petersburg; 
 Hardeman Stuart, Pelham, Turner, and others gone before 
 them ! And now, Farley had passed away, in the very opening 
 of the fight ! 
 
 The leg of the young man, which had been torn off by the 
 shell — boot and all — was placed beside his body in the ambu- 
 lance ; t and, that evening, I bent over him, and looked into the 
 cold, pale face, with thoughts too deep for tears. 
 
 Pelham— Farley — who would die next ? 
 
 "Farewell!" I could only say, as I got into the saddle to 
 avoid capture by the advancing enemy, "farewell, brave Farley ! 
 Somewhere yonder, past the sunset and the night, I hope to 
 meet you, and see your smile, again !" 
 
 CXXY. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 A stiower of balls hissed around me. as I rode on with the 
 rear-guard, falling back toward the Rapidan. 
 
 I was at the side of Mordaunt, who commanded the rear, and 
 he slowly retired, in obedience to orders, showing his teeth, as 
 the enemy pressed him, at every step. Near by was Harry 
 Saltoun, covered with dust, but " gay and happy " as before. 
 
 " A tough business, keeping these fellows back, Surry," said 
 
 * His words. t Fact.
 
 4:50 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Mordaunt, coolly. " I don't like this part of a soldier's work- 
 falling back in face of an enemy— nor do the men like it." 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " The genius of the South is for attack. We do wrong in not 
 invading." 
 
 " And Jackson agrees with you." 
 
 " That is a great compliment to my understanding, for your 
 general is ' the foremost man of all this world !'" 
 
 The sun was disappearing now, and the enemy proceeded more 
 cautiously. Mordaunt had much less trouble in keeping them 
 back — his command retired slowly in column of fours, ready to 
 meet any assault with the sabre — and we talked. 
 
 " I have one or two things to tell you, Surry," Mordaunt now 
 said, as he rode on ; " and first, do you know that we made a 
 curious blunder in imagining that there was any love-affair be- 
 tween Harry and Miss Grafton?" 
 
 " Ah ? — and yet I remember what he said one day to me — how 
 he looked." 
 
 " After that fight above Barbee's, was it not ?— last Novem- 
 ber?" 
 
 " Yes ; when I uttered the name of Miss Grafton he colored to 
 the eyes." 
 
 " Are you certain ?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 "See how treacherous is the memory, Surry! You did 
 not pronounce that name at all, my friend — you spoke of his 
 " nurse," under the impression, doubtless, that, in compliance 
 with my request made in that note when Harry was wounded, 
 Miss Grafton had nursed him." 
 
 "Did she not?" 
 
 "No — he has told me all, not only what took place at Elm 
 Cottage, but even his conversation with you." 
 
 " What took place?" 
 
 u He was nursed during his illness by another young friend of 
 ours." 
 
 " You mean — ?" 
 
 " Miss Henrietta Fitzhugh."
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 451 
 
 " Is it possible ! Now I see it all. How very stupid I was to 
 thus jump at my conclusions !" 
 
 "Not at all. Your supposition was the most natural in th6 
 world, and it was mine also." 
 
 " "Well ! well ! So the youngster has gone and fallen in love 
 with that little witch, has he?" I said. "I might have known 
 that he would — she just suits him — and you see, after all, Mor- 
 daunt, I was right in declaring in our talk together at your 
 house, that there was very little probability of any love-affair 
 existing between him and Miss Violet." 
 
 " I confess that you were right and I was wrong," replied 
 Mordaunt. 
 
 " So Harry is a victim to Miss Henrietta's bright eyes ; and 
 she — does she love him ?" 
 
 " At least they are engaged to be married," said Mordaunt. 
 
 " Good !" I laughed. "Everybody seems about to be married 
 these times ! And so that is what you had to tell me, Mor- 
 daunt?" 
 
 "Only apart." 
 
 And the face of the speaker became overshadowed. For 
 some moments he preserved a gloomy silence, then he said : 
 
 " What I have now to inform you of, friend, is far less agree- 
 able. Violet Grafton has disappeared from Elm Cottage." 
 
 " Disappeared ! What do you mean, Mordaunt ?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " I mean exactly what I have said, Surry. The young lady is 
 gone, and no one can tell whither, except that her route led in 
 the direction of Maryland. There is even something worse. 
 Her companion was the woman Parkins!" 
 
 And Mordaunt's face grew cold and threatening as he spoke. 
 
 "Listen," he said; "a few words will explain every thing. 
 An hour after you left me on your return from beyond the 
 river, one of my men who had been scouting toward Manassas, 
 and stopped at Elm Cottage on his return, brought a note to me 
 from Mrs. Fitzhugh, inquiring whether I knew any thing which 
 could take Miss Grafton to Maryland, and asking the character 
 of thitj woman Parkins. The note informed me that the young 
 lady had set out several days before, in the direction of Mary-
 
 452 SURRY OF EAGLE' S-NE ST. 
 
 land, travelling in a small vehicle driven by that woman ; and, in 
 spite of all Mrs. Fitzhugh could do, she had not been able to ex- 
 tract from Miss Grafton the object of her journey. She main- 
 tained complete silence upon every thing connected with it — 
 only declaring that she was compelled by a sense of duty to 
 go." 
 
 "Good heavens, Mordaunt!" I said, after listening to this 
 statement; "as sure as fate, that devil Fenwick is at the bot- 
 tom of this scheme." 
 
 "You are right," muttered Mordaunt, and I could see his face 
 grow pale, his eyes flash. "There is no manner of doubt about 
 it. And to think that I was yonder — perhaps within a few miles 
 of her — perhaps passing in front of some den in which she was 
 a prisoner! Surry!" he exclaimed, hoarse with passion, "when 
 I next encounter that man, I swear by all that is sacred, that I 
 will never leave him until I see his black heart's blood gushing 
 out before my eyes, and his face cold in death !" 
 
 There was something ferocious in the tone and look of Mor- 
 daunt, as he spoke — he breathed heavily — his brow was cover- 
 ed with icy sweat. 
 
 "You understand, now," he said more coolly. "The young 
 girl is in his power at last — the victim of some devilish plot — 
 and I am here, chained at my work — I cannot go to her succor. 
 But, if God spares my life, I will be by her side before many 
 days. Then I'll settle my account with that human devil, once 
 for all!" 
 
 " And you could do nothing when that news reached you ! 
 You could only rage and submit !" I exclaimed. 
 
 "No — something is done," was his reply. " I have sent Ach- 
 med to Elm Cottage, to strike the trail and follow wherever it 
 leads." 
 
 " Achmed ! Did you make a good selection ?" 
 
 " Yes. I see you do not know the boy. He is like a sleuth- 
 hound in pursuit of his adversary ; and, if any thing can be dis- 
 covered, he will discover it. Besides, he has an additional 
 motive besides his love for me — you know what I mean ?" 
 
 " Yes, his love for the girl."
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 453 
 
 " That will spur him on, night and day ; and, if any trace of 
 her route is left, he will discover it. He set out in an hour after 
 I received the note from Mrs. Fitzhugh, and by this time he is 
 following like a bloodhound on the trail." 
 
 Hordaunt's information plunged me into deep and gloomy 
 thought. Once more that cunning and unscrupulous foe had 
 thus risen to the surface, from that ooze of darkness in which he 
 had been concealed so long — again, Fenwick was actively pur- 
 suing his love and vengeance, in spite of that sword-thrust, which 
 would have put an end to any other human being — pursuing his 
 aims, too, with a cunning and success which he had never before 
 equalled ? Truly, the sleepless enmity of this secret foe was 
 something supernatural almost — partaking of the implacable ire 
 of the mythologic deities! "What would be the result? "Would 
 the lion yield to the serpent — the eagle be pierced to the heart 
 by the vulture ? Would Hordaunt's life be made dark at the 
 moment when the discovery of his son had changed his whole 
 nature, and come like a burst of sunshine to light up his gloomy 
 life? 
 
 "It is impossible!" I murmured; " the Almighty would not 
 permit such an enormity I" 
 
 An hour afterward I had left Mordaunt to join General Stuart 
 again, having first received a promise from him that, if any intel- 
 ligence reached him in relation to Miss Grafton, he would send 
 me word. "When I pressed his strong hand, the nerves were as 
 firm and collected as ever — but upon his swarthy face I saw the 
 ineradicable traces of love, and approaching vengeance. 
 
 Rejoining Stuart on the road to Raccoon Ford, I found him 
 giving orders to General "W. H. F. Lee to fall back with his 
 column in the direction of Gordonsville, to protect the Central 
 Railroad from Stoneman's great cavalry raid. How vigorously 
 and successfully this work wasaocomplished is known to all. With 
 a small and half-armed body of cavalry, mounted upon broken- 
 down horses, Lee met, repulsed, and drove back to the Rapidan 
 the great force of Stoneman. "With any thing like an equal 
 body of cavalry, he would have cut off and captured the whole 
 command.
 
 454 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Before midnight I had crossed at Raccoon Ford with Stuart, 
 and we were galloping toward Ohancellorsville. 
 
 Hooker had passed the Rapidan at Gernianna Ford, a»4 was 
 hastening on in the same direction. 
 
 CXXYI. 
 
 HOOKER IN HIS DEN. 
 
 The events which I have just narrated took place on Wednes 
 day, the 28th of April, and on Thursday morning the advance 
 corps of the Federal column from Kelly's Ford was in line of 
 battle near Ohancellorsville. 
 
 Sedgwick had also crossed at Fredericksburg, to hold Lee in 
 check there ; and Jackson had drawn up his corps to meet him. 
 
 On Thursday evening, however, it became apparent that 
 General Sedgwick's movement was merely a demonstration to 
 cover Hooker's main advance above, and Jackson was ordered to 
 leave one division at Fredericksburg, and with the rest move 
 rapidly toward Ohancellorsville. 
 
 The order of General Lee directed him to " attack and repulse 
 the enemy." To carry out this order, he had about ten or 
 fifteen thousand men. General Hooker had about one hundred 
 and twenty thousand. 
 
 Jackson moved at midnight, on Thursday, toward Ohancellors- 
 ville, and at daylight reached the Tabernacle Church, within a 
 few miles of the place, where he was joined by a division and 
 two brigades under Anderson, which had fallen back before the 
 enemy from the Rappahannock. 
 
 As soon as he received this re-enforcement, and all was ready, 
 Jackson formed line of battle across the plank-road leading 
 through the Wilderness, and steadily advanced to assail the 
 enemy. 
 
 Hooker's position was almost impregnable. He had rapidly 
 thrown up heavy works fronting west, south, and east, with the 
 Ohancellorsville house behind the centre — and in front of these
 
 HOOKER IN HIS DEN. 455 
 
 defences the thickets of this strange country had been cut down, 
 so as to form a bristling abatis, and prevent all approach. 
 Beyond this abatis was the dense, tangled, impassable under- 
 growth, penetrated only by a few narrow roads — and these 
 avenues were commanded by the grim muzzles of artillery. 
 
 Hooker was a veritable tiger in his lair — Lee would attack at 
 his peril — and Jackson soon found that he could not drive his ad- 
 versary from this formidable stronghold. His advance came 
 6peedily in contact with the enemy's works, and a hurricane of 
 shell tore through the ranks, indicting considerable loss. To 
 advance and charge the works was absolutely impossible — the 
 thickets were impenetrable — and, after carrying on a desultory 
 warfare for some hours, Jackson gave up the attempt to assail 
 Hooker from that quarter, and waited for the arrival of General 
 Lee. 
 
 The commanding general arrived at nightfall, having left only a 
 small force to hold the heights of Fredericksburg; and Jackson 
 and himself were speedily in consultation. The condition of 
 affairs was critical. Longstreet's corps was at Suffolk, below 
 Richmond, and Lee had less than thirty-five thousand troops 
 with which to attack an enemy numbering one hundred and fifty 
 thousand, behind impregnable earthworks. And yet that attack 
 must be made — Hooker must be driven from Chancellorsville, or 
 Lee must retreat. 
 
 It was under these circumstances that Jackson suggested an 
 attempt to turn, by a swift and secret march, the right flank of 
 the enemy west of Chancellorsville, while another column 
 attacked in front. Colonel Pendleton, the chief of staff, in- 
 formed me that this suggestion was Jackson's — and it was 
 adopted by General Lee. 
 
 On the same night, every preparation was made for the move- 
 ment. 
 
 Amid the weird shades of the Wilderness, the two formidable 
 adversaries were now about to close in a breast- to- breast con- 
 flict.
 
 456 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 THE WING OF THE DEATH-ANGEL. 
 
 Eveky incident of that period is now engraved upon my 
 memory in characters which no lapse of time can efface. I had 
 reached the most tragic moment of a hloody epoch — the great 
 figure I had followed so long was about to disappear amid the 
 lurid smoke of battle — and, going back in memory to those hours, 
 I recall every event, every word, every glance, to be treasured 
 up forever in the depths of the heart. 
 
 It was the night preceding the great flank-march which was 
 to overthrow and break in pieces the strength of Hooker. 
 Jackson, weary with his hard day's fighting, and his long and 
 anxious consultation with General Lee, stretched himself flat 
 upon his breast, by a camp-fire, beneath a tree, and seemed about 
 to fall asleep. 
 
 Looking at him, I observed that he was lying upon the bare 
 ground, and I called his attention to the fact, telling him that 
 he would certainly take cold. 
 
 "I reckon not, Colonel!" was his reply. " I am used to it. I 
 am really tired out, and have left behind my oil-cloth and 
 blankets." 
 
 " Then take my cloth and cape, General. I insist that you 
 shall use them." 
 
 "No, I really cannot think of such a thing!" was his cour- 
 teous reply ; but I insisted, declaring that my English saddle- 
 cloth Avas quite sufficient to protect me from the damp of the 
 ground — and at last the General yielded. 
 
 He lay down on my "Yankee oil-cloth," and I threw over him 
 my gray cape. Then, spreading my felt saddle-cloth near the 
 fire, a few feet off, I lay down in my turn, and began to reflect 
 — chiefly, I think, upon May Beverley, though at times upon the 
 fate of poor Farley. 
 
 During this time, I thought that General Jackson was asleep, 
 and, in moving the logs on the fire to make the blaze brighter,
 
 WING OF TEE DEATII-ANGEL. 457 
 
 did so carefully, in order not to awake him. As I was thus 
 engaged, I heard him say in a tone of unusual softness : 
 
 " I am not asleep, Colonel — you do not disturb me." 
 
 " I thought you were asleep, General." 
 
 " No, I have been thinking — as you seem to have been — and 
 cannot close my eyes. Something tells me that we will have a 
 hard struggle to-morrow; and many of my brave fellows are 
 now sleeping their last sleep, I fear." 
 
 He sighed, and gazed thoughtfully into the fire. 
 
 "This is a cruel war!" he said, in a low voice. " Why was 
 it ever forced upon us? — as it assuredly was." 
 
 " Our Northern friends differ with you on that point, General." 
 
 " Well, we won't discuss it — but I never should have taken 
 part in it, if I had not regarded it as just and holy in its aims. 
 God tries the heart, Colonel— I pray that He will try mine, and 
 yours, and the hearts of all, and, if there be any sin of ignor- 
 ance or evil intent, may He pardon us !" 
 
 "Amen, General." 
 
 " We are very poor and weak," continued the speaker; " very 
 hard and sinful. May he make pure our hearts within us, and 
 guide us in all life's journey ! Without his favor, Colonel, we 
 are miserable indeed ! What is fame, or riches, or glory, without 
 his favor? You have heard me called eccentric, I doubt not, 
 Colonel ; and do you know, at Lexington the young men called 
 me ' Fool Tom Jackson.' Yes, ' Fool Tom Jackson,' " he 
 added, in a soft, musing tone, " and all because I made prayer 
 and religious exercises my main occupation. I thought I was 
 right, and acting rationally. It was better, I believed, to se- 
 cure the favor of my Maker than to receive the plaudits of 
 men. So I prayed, Colonel, instead of laughing — thinking tbat 
 time was short and eternity long. I thought of heavenly things, 
 and the favor of my God, more than of what I wore, what 
 I ate, how I walked, or the opinion men had of me — and for this 
 I was called a fool!" 
 
 Again, the low voice paused — the speaker seemed to be re- 
 flecting. 
 
 "I went into this war," he continued, "because God permits 
 20
 
 458 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 us to defend our native land and protect it from outrage. He 
 had given me animal courage, and so directed my steps that 1 
 had learned the art of war at West Point — thus my duty, I 
 thought, was plain. I have done what I could for my dear old 
 native State — if I was wrong, may He forgive me ! But I do 
 not believe I erred. It was duty no less than pleasure to 
 fight for the land I loved. And how I have loved it ! There is 
 not a foot of Virginia soil that is not dear to me — not a river, 
 a stream, or mountain that is not sacred — and more than all, I 
 have loved the town of Lexington, and the beautiful valley of 
 the Shenandoah! I had reason for that. Never had a man 
 better friends than I have there in the Valley of Virginia — 
 from Winchester, the centre of that warm-hearted, brave and 
 patriotic people, to Lexington, where I hope to rest when I die. 
 The love of these good people is my greatest consolation in life 
 — and I love them much in return. I have fought for the 
 women and children of the Shenandoah Valley, Colonel, and 
 I am ready to die for them ! " 
 
 " You know how they regard you, General — but I hope you 
 will not soon be called upon to give them so great a proof of 
 your affection as by dying for them." 
 
 " Who knows, Colonel ? War is uncertain — battle dangerous 
 You or I may fall without an instant's warning." 
 
 " That is true, General — all things may happen — even the 
 Confederacy be overthrown. We are now at the year 1863. 
 Who knows but that in 1864, or 1865, the Federal Government 
 will be able to bring such overwhelming numbers into the field, 
 that we shall be obliged to succumb to those numbers, in spite 
 of all our efforts." 
 
 " God only knows the future, " was his reply ; " and He 
 will direct." 
 
 " I trust in his goodness, General, with all my heart, and be- 
 lieve, as you do, that all He does is for the best. But it would 
 be hard to understand His almighty purpose, if our over- 
 throw is permitted. Think what the result will be — the loss of 
 all that precious blood — absolute poverty — perhaps military 
 domination 1 And worse — far worse than all ! — we shall have
 
 WING OF THE DEATH ANGEL. 459 
 
 fought, and bled, and fallen, all for nothing ! "We shall have in- 
 augurated a Revolution — struggled for years — and all to hear, as 
 we return to our desolate homes, the bitter taunt, " You were 
 fools to have defied the enemy — you have gained nothing and 
 lost all "— 
 
 — "But honor!" exclaimed Jackson. "No, Colonel! you are 
 wrong — a thousand times wrong ! Suppose wo are conquered — 
 suppose the South does fail — I declare to you that, should I live, 
 I will not regret for one instant this struggle ; not the blood, 
 the treasure, the failure — nothing ! There may be persons who 
 fight for fame or success — I fight for my principles ! I appeal to 
 God for the purity of my motives — and whether I live or die— - 
 whether the South falls or conquers — I shall be able to say, ' ] 
 did my duty !' " 
 
 The earnest words died away, and silence followed. 
 
 ""Well, I keep you awake, Colonel," said Jackson, after a long 
 pause ; " and I expect we shall need all our energies for the 
 scenes of to-morrow. This country is terrible, and the enemy 
 are in a magnificent position — but we must fight them !" 
 
 " The disproportion of force is frightful." 
 
 "Yes, truly discouraging; but God has blessed us, Colonel, 
 upon many similar occasions, and in Him I trust." 
 
 " Take care of yourself in the battle, General. You expose 
 yourself terribly." 
 
 " Not unnecessarily, I hope, Colonel ; and, if I fall, there are 
 many brave souls to take my place. Let us not fear tho enemy, 
 my friend ; he can do us no harm. It is God we should love and 
 fear — if He is with us, man can do nothing to hurt us. I may 
 fall to-morrow — it is hidden from me — God knoweth — but, if I 
 raise my heart to Ilim, what are bullets and wounds? Beyond 
 this world of struggle, uproar, and passion, there is a ' land of 
 calm delight,' where sorrow never comes, and the King of Kings 
 and Lord of Lords reigns in I lis majesty. Oh! to see His face! 
 to hear from His lips, ' Well done!' May those words be heard 
 by both of us, my friend ! Then, as wo look back upon this 
 troubled life, wars and rumors of wars will appear like a dream, 
 from which we have awakened in heaven!"
 
 460 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 The speaker ceased, and said no more. In half an hour I 
 heard his long, regular breathing. He was asleep. 
 
 For some time I lay awake, gazing at the recumbent figure of 
 this celebrated man, whose august words had just resounded in 
 my ears. It was hard to realize that the plainly-clad form before 
 me was that of a born hero and master of men. As I took in at 
 a glance the dusty cavalry boots, the dingy coat, the old battered 
 sabre which lay by his side, and the faded cap which had half- 
 fallen back from his broad brow, edged with its short dark hair, 
 it was only as a weary, hard-worked soldier that Jackson ap- 
 peared to me. 
 
 Now I know that I looked upon the one man raised up by God 
 in many centuries — upon one of the immortals ! 
 
 CXXYIII. 
 
 UNDER THE SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 I was aroused about midnight by the voice of the General, and 
 found him sitting by the fire, reading a note which a courier had 
 just brought him from General Lee. 
 
 As he did so, he coughed slightly, and I soon discovered that 
 he had risen during the night, and, fearing that I would suffer 
 for want of iny riding-cape, thrown it over me, thus leaving him- 
 self exposed.* 
 
 "I thought you would be cold," he said, smiling gently, as he 
 saw me looking at the cape ; " and I am glad you have had a good 
 nap, Colonel, as I shall have to get you to ride for me." 
 
 " Ready, General." 
 
 And I buckled on my arms. My horse was already saddled 
 and standing near. 
 
 The General then gave me a message to Stuart, who 
 was making a reconnois3ance over the route which Jackson 
 would advance by, on the next morning ; and, having received 
 
 * Historical.
 
 SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS. 461 
 
 instructions where I would probably find Stuart, I set forth on 
 my mission. 
 
 The night was calm and clear. The moon, only half obscured 
 behind light drifting clouds, poured her mellow radiance upon 
 the weird landscape through which I rode; and from time to 
 time the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill was heard in the 
 tangled thickets, beyond which Hooker awaited Lee. The scene 
 was still and melancholy — the silence almost oppressive. No 
 sound came from the opposing armies; and, as I went along the 
 narrow and winding road through the thick bushes, the footfalls 
 of my horse were the only interruptions of the oppressive 
 silence. 
 
 All at once, however, as I approached the Brock road, lead- 
 ing from Spottsylvania Court-House to Ely's Ford, I heard the 
 quick " Halt !" of a cavalry vedette, and the click of his carbine 
 as he cocked it, 
 
 ''Friend!" was my reply, and "Advance!" came from the 
 vedette, who awaited me weapon in hand. 
 
 " Who are you ?" 
 
 " Colonel Surry, of General Jackson's staff. Where is General 
 Stuart?" 
 
 The vedette turned to an officer who had ridden up. 
 
 "Lieutenant, here is an officer looking for General Stuart." 
 
 "Who is it?" asked the voice of Harry Saltoun. 
 
 " A friend of yours, Lieutenant." 
 
 And we shook hands. 
 
 "Any thing stirring?" 
 
 " Nothing, Colonel — all as quiet as a mouse. General Stuart 
 is a mile ahead. I will send a man with you." 
 
 " And Mordauut ?" 
 
 "Making a reconnoissance on the road to Ely's Ford." 
 
 " Good luck, Harry Mordauut!" I said, pressing his hand. 
 
 And I rode on with the guide. Half a mile further, another 
 vedette halted us. Stuart had omitted, as usual, no precautions. 
 Every footpath was picketed. 
 
 " Where is the General ?" 
 
 " On the Orange road, where it joins the Germanna plank,
 
 462 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 sir. Orders are, not to ride upon the planks ; the Yankees are 
 near there." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 And, sending hack the guide, I rode on until I struck the 
 Orange road, turned to the right, and, avoiding the planking, 
 upon which the hoof-strokes of a horse could be heard a great 
 distance in the still night, drew near the spot Avhere the Ger- 
 tnanna road debouches into the main highway. 
 
 As I did so, the stifled hum of voices, and the occasional neigh 
 of a horse, from the more open thicket, indicated the presence 
 of cavalry; and soon I saw the dark masses, the men dis- 
 mounted, but waiting beside their horses. 
 
 Two hundred yards further I found Stuart. 
 
 He was standing under a tree, with his arm thrown over the 
 mane of his black mare "Lily of the Valley," and the animal 
 had turned her head, and gazed at him with her large, intelli- 
 gent eyes. Stuart was speaking in a low tone to an officer, Cap- 
 tain Breathed, of his horse artillery 
 
 "Look out, Surry!" said Stuart, as he gave me his hand; 
 " don't talk too loud ; the enemy's pickets are yonder, within a 
 hundred yards of us." 
 
 "All right, General." 
 
 And I shook hands with Breathed, whom I knew intimately : 
 no braver spirit ever fought a gun, or went foremost in the 
 charge. 
 
 "Well, General," he said, in a low tone, as he mounted his 
 horse, " I understand. I am to keep only a few yards behind 
 the line of sharpshooters as they advance ;* but, if I see an open- 
 ing, I'm going ahead." 
 
 " Good. I know you'll do what you say, Breathed. Get every 
 thing ready." 
 
 And, as Breathed rode cautiously away, Stuart asked if I had 
 any orders. 
 
 " A message, General, in reference to the movement in the 
 morning. Your cavalry, you know, will move in front and on 
 the flanks." 
 
 * Breathed's orders.
 
 SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS. 463 
 
 And I gave him the message intrusted to me by Jackson. 
 
 "Good!" he said; "that is exactly what I designed doing. 
 My force is small, but it will do the work." 
 
 And Stuart ceased speaking, and listened. 
 
 "They are working yonder like beavers," he whispered; 
 " suppose we go a little further and listen." 
 
 We advanced cautiously on foot, in the shadow of the trees, 
 and came within sight of the dusky figure of a Federal vedette, 
 posted on the road in the moonlight. 
 
 "Listen!" said Stuart; and, bending down, he put his ear to 
 the ground.* 
 
 I imitated him, and the quick blows of pickaxes and rumble 
 of spades were heard from the direction of Chancellorsville. 
 
 " They are throwing up defences on their right," whispered 
 Stuart, as we went cautiously back to where his horse was 
 standing. " I am afraid Jackson will find the attack tough 
 work." 
 
 As we reached the tree where we had left our horses, a dis- 
 patch was handed to Stuart, which he read by the light of a 
 single match shaded from view. 
 
 " I was right," lie said ; " Mordaunt reports that the enemy aro 
 throwing up works across the road beyond Melzi Chancellor's." 
 
 " Where is Mordaunt, General ?" 
 
 "About a mile from here." 
 
 The idea suddenly struck me that he might have heard some- 
 thing of Violet Grafton, and, as no reply was necessary to my 
 message, I determined to go and find him. 
 
 " I wish to see Mordaunt for a moment, General. Will I find 
 you here when I come back ?" 
 
 "Probably — unless there is some movement." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 And, taking Mordaunt's courier with me, I rode in the direc- 
 tion which he indicated — following the narrow and winding 
 bridle-path of the Brock road, skirted with dense thickets. 
 
 * Colonel Surry stated to me that he had Been General Stuart perform the hamo 
 manoeuvre on the night of the second battle of Masassai.
 
 464 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 It was the very route I had passed over in April, 1861. 
 
 Half a mile from the Plank road I came upon a column of 
 cavalry, and at the head of it, on horseback, and wrapped in his 
 cloak, I recognized Mordaunt. 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 THE RETURN OP ACHMED. 
 
 Moedaunt greeted me with a warm grasp of his strong hand, 
 and I asked, at once, if he had heard any news of Violet Graf- 
 ton. 
 
 "Nothing whatever," was his reply, in a gloomy tone. 
 "Achmed has not returned." 
 
 "lias he had time?" 
 
 "Ample time." 
 
 "I hoped to hear something, but fate seems against us 1" 
 
 I had scarcely spoken, when a carbine was fired within two 
 hundred yards of us, by the picket, in the direction of the 
 river. 
 
 "Attention !" came from Mordaunt; and the sleepy men rose 
 erect in their saddles. 
 
 " What can that mean ?" muttered Mordaunt. " Some stray 
 scout prowling around, probably." 
 
 Hoof-strokes were now heard from the direction of the firing, 
 and two men came up, with another between them. 
 
 "Well?" said Mordaunt. 
 
 " A prisoner, Colonel." 
 
 " You fired at him ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, but he came straight on, without taking any notice 
 of it, and surrendered." 
 
 Suddenly Mordaunt uttered a quick exclamation, and, in an- 
 other moment, I understood the origin of it. The prisoner 
 
 almost wholly disguised by an oil-cloth poncho— was Achmed.
 
 THE RETURN OF ACEMED. 465 
 
 In an instant Mordaunt had hastened to him, and was bending 
 over, eagerly, in the saddle, listening to the Moor, who spoke 
 rapidly, in Arabic, and with obvious excitement. lie wrapped 
 his black poncho more closely around him as he spoke, gesticu- 
 lated with his hands ; and, as the moonlight fell upon his dark 
 face, close to Mordaunt's, I saw that his eyes were blazing. 
 
 Mordaunt exhibited an agitation which even exceeded that of 
 his companion. His cheeks flushed, then turned pale — his eyes 
 filled with blood — and, when Achmed handed him a paper, 
 which he read by the moonlight, I heard his teeth grinding 
 together. 
 
 Suddenly he turned to me. 
 
 *' Surry ! you know this country ?" 
 
 <; Yes." 
 
 " Where is the house at which you stopped on your way — 
 where you first saw Violet Grafton ?" 
 
 " Within two miles of this spot," I replied, with a sudden 
 thrill of the nerves. "Why do you ask?" 
 
 " Can you guide me to it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 A Come on, then ! Come ! the game is run to earth !" 
 
 And, hnstily summoning his second in command, Mordaunt 
 gave him rapid instructions for his guidance, in case any move- 
 ment took place in his absence — then he put spur to his horse 
 and set out, at full speed, in the direction I indicated. Achmed 
 followed. 
 
 *' This is the road ? — you are sure ?" exclaimed Mordaunt. as 
 fie went on at full gallop. 
 
 •'Yes," I said. "Keep straight on. But what has hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 "Here is the whole— Achmed has ferreted out everything! 
 That expedition to Maryland was all a ruse of the she-devil v. ho 
 carried the young girl oft* ! After her departure, Mrs. Fitzhugh 
 discovered, in her room, where she had probably dropped it by 
 accident, the paper which Achmed gave me to-night — and do 
 you know what that paper was, Surry?" 
 
 Mordaunt's eyes fairly blazed, as he glared orer his shoulder. 
 20*
 
 466 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "It is an incredibly accurate forgery of my handwriting, 
 Surry ; and in it I state that I am wounded — suffering — lan- 
 guishing for some friend to nurse me — will Miss Grafton throw 
 aside all rules of convention, and come to the succor of her poor, 
 wounded friend! That is what betrayed her into the hands of 
 this born devil and his drab ; nor did the cunning of Fenwick — 
 for he it was who again committed forgery to ruin me — nor did 
 his cunning stop here. In that note, I beg Miss Grafton to con- 
 ceal from every one the object of her visit. I am ashamed, I am 
 made to say, of the request I make — evil tongues may slander 
 her — will she not, therefore, keep her journey entirely secret, 
 not even informing Mrs. Fitzhugh of its object ! 
 
 "Do you understand?" added Mordaunt, as his powerful 
 horse still cleared the ground with long leaps. "The forger 
 feared that I would come, or some friend of mine, and find the 
 treachery thus practised ! The whole affair must be concealed ! 
 — and that concealment was secured — would have been perfect- 
 but for the accidental loss, by Miss Grafton, of the forged paper. 
 Now for Achmed! He followed on the trail to Maryland, and 
 soon found that, after going a short way, they turned southward, 
 and travelled toward the Rappahannock. He tracked them 
 along their entire route — found they had crossed at a private 
 ford, so obscure and unknown that it was wholly unpicketed 
 —and then, for the first time, he lost them in the Wilderness 
 here. He succeeded in passing through the centre of the Federal 
 army, disguised by his poncho — has pushed on with his informa= 
 tion— and your mention of Fenwick, in connection with that 
 house which you stopped at, affords the clue to the whole. 
 Violet Grafton is a prisoner there, in the power of Fenwick!" 
 
 " You are right," I said , "let us lose no time. We are now 
 within a quarter of a mile of the house."
 
 LOVE AND DEATH. 467 
 
 oxxx. 
 
 LOVE AND DEATH. 
 
 Mordaunt struck the spurs into his horse as I uttered these 
 words, and the powerful animal thundered on over the dark and 
 narrow road, between the walls of thicket rising, in the dim 
 moonlight, upon either side. 
 
 I led the way, and, as before, on that night of April, just two 
 years before, when I passed over the same ground, the whip- 
 poorwills cried in the thicket — the owl's unearthly screech was 
 heard from the tangled depths — and the scraggy arms of the 
 gnarled and stunted black-oaks resembled goblin hands about to 
 clutch the nocturnal intruders on this land of mystery, and bear 
 them away into the weird recesses of the Wilderness. 
 
 Mordaunt never relaxed his headlong speed, and the quick 
 pants of his black charger were ever at my ear, driving me on- 
 ward. But I was as wild with anxiety almost as himself. The 
 thought, that Violet Grafton was a helpless victim in the hands 
 of the monster who had entrapped her, drove me like a goad. 
 With bloody spurs I forced my weary horse to his utmost speed, 
 trembling, as I went on, with a vague apprehension of some 
 monstrous outrage, some unspeakable infamy. 
 
 Mordaunt was half a length behind me, sweeping on like an 
 incarnate fate- Wrapped in his dark cloak, upon his horse, as 
 black as night, he resembled the wild huntsman of the German 
 legends, following close upon his prey. 
 
 " Are we near the place!" he said, hoarsely, at my ear. 
 
 " Yes — yonder it is!" 
 
 " I mean to kill him, this time, Surry ! Not the wealth of 
 both hemispheres could buy his blood of me, or make me spare 
 him!" 
 
 " And I won't plead for him !" 
 
 " It would do no good ! Is that the place?" 
 
 " Yes, we have arrived." 
 
 And, leaping the low brushwood fence, I spurred up the hill, 
 closely followed by Mordaunt and Achmed. The face of the
 
 468 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 Moor, as the moonlight fell upon it^ wore a wild and splendid 
 look, such as no words can describe. Call it the ferocity of the 
 tiger, the thirst .of a panther for the blood of the wolf. The 
 fierce blood of the desert-born flamed in that regard, and made 
 the countenance glow as though the glare of a great conflagra- 
 tion were upon it. 
 
 In three bounds our horses reached the house, through the 
 shutters of which a light glimmered. Mordaunt was on his feet 
 in a single instant, and had rushed to the door ! 
 
 With one blow of his ponderous shoulder he burst it nearly 
 from its hinges— it flew open ; and, at the same moment, a loud 
 explosion was heard, and a bullet whistled past me. 
 
 At a bound I reached the door of the apartment, which I 
 knew so well— and here is the scene which met my eyes : 
 
 Fenwick, pale, emaciated, with eyes bloodshot and sunken, 
 standing erect in the centre of the apartment— pistol in hand ; 
 and, in one corner, Miss Grafton, with dishevelled hair, trembling 
 and sobbing, as she endeavored to tear herself from the iron 
 arms of the woman Parkins, who was trying to drag her away. 
 Such was the scene which a single glance took in. Then to 
 that pause succeeded the roar of the lion bounding on his prey. 
 Mordaunt, sabre in hand, sprang straight at Fenwick, and, in 
 another instant, the sharp point would have pierced his heart. 
 But the blood of his bitter foe was not to be shed by his own 
 hand. Suddenly, a slender form passed him at a single bound ; 
 a gleaming poniard was seen to rise and fall ; and Fenwick fell, 
 pierced through the heart by the dagger of Achmed. 
 
 As he staggered and fell, a loud explosion was heard, and 
 Achmed uttered a low cry. In falling, Fenwick had fired his 
 pistol, and the ball had passed through Achmed's breast. 
 
 Fenwick rolled on the floor, the blood spouting over the hilt 
 of the poniard, which remained buried in his breast. Then, with 
 a last convulsive effort, lie clutched a chair, rose erect, and with 
 clinched hands, raised above his head, exclaimed, looking at 
 Mordaunt: 
 
 "You conquer! — I die! — but beyond the grave — in death as 
 in life— hate! hate! hate! to all eternity !"
 
 LOVE AND DEATH. 469 
 
 As the words left his lips, the glare faded from his bloodshot 
 eyes ; his hands, madly clutching at the air, fell powerless ; a 
 bloody foam came to his lips ; and he fell at full length, dead. 
 
 Within two paces of him, Mordaunt was holding in his arms 
 the dying form of Achmed, whose head was resting on his 
 bosom. 
 
 A few low words, in Arabic, to which Mordaunt replied with 
 something like a groan — then the young Moor's face was illumi- 
 nated with a radiant smile, and his eyes turned toward Violet 
 Grafton. The woman Parkins had disappeared. 
 
 Dragging himself along, Achmed reached her feet, and, taking 
 one of her hands, pressed it closely to his lips, murmuring some 
 faint words, as he did so, in his native tongue. 
 
 "He says he is happy, for he dies for you!" exclaimed the 
 deep voice of Mordaunt, as he stood with arms folded across his 
 heaving bosom. 
 
 Achmed seemed to understand that his words were explained, 
 and, again pressing a long, lingering kiss upon the girl's hand, 
 fell back, with the pallor of death upon his face. 
 
 She caught his fainting form, and, for a moment, he was 
 clasped in her arms — his head rested upon her bosom. 
 
 His eyes opened, and he saw her face wet with tears, as it bent 
 above him. That spectacle made his pale cheeks flush, his eyes 
 glow for tho last time on earth. 
 
 Turning faintly toward Mordaunt, with a glance of unspeak- 
 able affection, he murmured some words, and stretched out his 
 hand. 
 
 Mordaunt grasped it, with a strange tremor m his stalwart 
 frame ; and, with his other hand, Achmed took that of the girl, 
 and pressed it to his heart. 
 
 As he did so, a smile of unspeakable happiness lit up his face ; 
 his lips uttered a faint murmur; and, falling back in the arms 
 of the woman whom ho had loved, ho died, with his head upon 
 her breast.
 
 4:70 SURRY OF BAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 THE LAST GREETING BETWEEN STUART AND JACKSON. 
 
 Here my memoirs might terminate — for the present, if not 
 forever. All the personages disappear, lost in the bloody gulf, 
 or have reached that crisis in their lives when we can leave 
 them. 
 
 But one scene remains to wind up the tragedy — another figure 
 is about to fall, as the mighty pine falls in the depths of the 
 forest, making the woods resound as it crashes to the earth. 
 The hours drew onward now when the form of him to whom all 
 the South looked in her day of peril was to disappear — when 
 the eagle eye was to flash no more, the voice to be hushed — 
 when the hero of a hundred battles was to leave the great arena 
 of his fame, and pass away amid the wailing of a nation. 
 
 Come with me, reader, and we will look upon this "last 
 scene of all. 1 ' Then the curtain falls. 
 
 At daylight, on the morning succeeding the events just nar- 
 tated, Jackson put his column in motion, and directed his march 
 wer the same route which I had pursued on my way to find 
 Stuart. At the Catherine Furnace he was observed and attacked 
 by the advance force of the enemy, but, pushing on without 
 stopping — his flank covered by the cavalry — he reached the 
 Brock road, and, finally, the Orange plank-road. 
 
 Here I joined him at the moment when General Fitz Leo, 
 who commanded the cavalry under Stuart, informed him that, 
 by ascending a neighboring eminence, he could obtain a good 
 view of the enemy's works. Jackson immediately rode to the 
 point thus indicated, in company with Generals Fitz Lee and 
 Stuart ; and the works of Hooker were plainly descried over 
 the tops of the trees. 
 
 The whole was seen at a glance, and, to attack to advantage, 
 it was obviously necessary to move further still around the 
 enemy's flank. 
 
 " Tell my eelumn to cross that road," Jackson said to one of
 
 STUART AND JACKSON. 471 
 
 his aides ; and the troops moved on steadily until they reached the 
 Old Turnpike, at a point between the Wilderness Tavern and 
 Chancellorsville. 
 
 Here instant preparations were made for attack. The force 
 which Jackson had consisted of Rodes's, Colston's, and A. P. 
 Hill's divisions — in all, somewhat less than twenty-two thousand 
 men — and line of battle was immediately formed for an advance 
 upon the enemy. Rodes moved in front, Colston followed 
 within two hundred yards, and ITill marched in colum/i, with 
 the artillery as a reserve. 
 
 Jackson gave the order to advance at about six in the eve- 
 ning, and, as the sinking sun began to throw its long shadows 
 over the Wilderness, the long line of bayonets was seen in 
 motion. Struggling on through the dense thickets on either side 
 of the turnpike, the troops reached the open ground near Melzi 
 Chancellor's — and there, before them, was the long line of the 
 enemy's works. 
 
 Jackson rode in front, and, as soon as his lines were formed 
 for the attack, ordered the works to be stormed with the 
 bayonet. 
 
 At the word, Rodes rushed forward — the men cheering wildly 
 — and, in a few moments, they had swept over the Federal 
 earthworks, driving the Eleventh Corps in wild confusion before 
 them. The woods swarmed with panic-stricken infantry, in 
 utter confusion ; artillery galloped off, and was overturned in 
 ditches, or by striking against the trees. At one blow the entire 
 army of Hooker, as events subsequently proved, was entirely 
 demoralized. 
 
 Jackson pressed straight on upon the track of the flying 
 enemy ; and I soon discovered that he was straining every nerve 
 to extend his left, and so cut off their retreat to the Rappahan- 
 nock. Unavoidable delays, however, ensued. The lines of 
 Rodes and Colston had been mingled in inextricable confusion in 
 the charge ; officers could not find their commands : before ad- 
 vancing further, it was absolutely necessary to halt and re-form 
 the line of battle. 
 
 Rodes and Colston were, accordingly, ordered to 6top their
 
 472 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 advance, re-form their divisions, and give way to Hill, who 
 was directed to take the front with his fresh division, not yet 
 engaged. 
 
 Before these orders could be carried out, it was nearly nine 
 o'clock at night, and the weird scene was only lit up by the 
 struggling beams of a pallid moon. On all sides the scattered 
 troops were seen gathering around their colors again, and form- 
 ing a new line of battle — and soon A. P. Hill was heard steadily 
 advancing to take his place in front, for the decisive attack on 
 Chancellorsville, about a mile distant. 
 
 Such was the condition of things, when General Jackson, 
 accompanied by his staff and escort, rode in advance of his 
 line down the road toward Cbancellorsville, listening, at 
 every step, for some indications of a movement in the Federal 
 camps. 
 
 When nearly opposite an old wooden house, in the thicket by 
 the roadside, he checked his horse to listen; and the whole 
 cortege, General, staff, and couriers, remained for some moments 
 silent and motionless, gazing toward the enemy. 
 
 From the narrative of what followed I shrink with a sort of 
 dread, and a throbbing heart. Again that sombre and lugubrious 
 Wilderness rises up before me, lit by the pallid moon ; again the 
 sad whippoorwill's cry ; again I see the great soldier, motionless 
 upon his horse— and then I hear the fatal roar of the guns which 
 laid him low ! 
 
 Jackson had halted thus, and remained motionless in the 
 middle of the road, listening intently, when, suddenly, for what 
 reason has never yet been discovered, one of his brigades in 
 rear, and on the right of the turnpike, opened a heavy fire upon 
 the party. 
 
 Did they take us for Federal cavalry, or were they firing at 
 random, under the excitement of the moment? I know not, 
 and it is probable that the truth will never be known. But the 
 fire had terrible results. Some of the staff were wounded ; 
 others threw themselves from their horses, who were running 
 from the fire toward the Federal lines, not two hundred yards 
 distant ; and Captain Boswell, engineer upon the General's staff,
 
 STUART AND JACKSON. 473 
 
 was killed, and his body dragged by bis maddened horse to 
 Chancellorsville. 
 
 As the bullets whistled around him, Jackson wheeled his horse 
 to the left, and galloped into the thicket. Then came the fatal 
 moment. The troops behind him, on the left of the road, 
 imagined that the Federal cavalry were charging; and, kneeling 
 on the right knee, with bayonets fixed, poured a volley upon the 
 General, at the distance of thirty yards. 
 
 Two balls passed through his left arm, shattering the bone, 
 and a third through his right hand, breaking the fingers. 
 
 Mad with terror, his horse wheeled round and ran off; and, 
 passing under a low bough, extending horizontally from a tree, 
 Jackson was struck in the forehead, his cap torn from his head, 
 and his form hurled back almost out of the saddle. He rose 
 erect again, however ; grasped the bridle with his bleeding 
 fingers ; and, regaining control of his horse, turned again into 
 the high road, near the spot which he had left. 
 
 The fire had ceased as suddenly as it began, and not a human 
 being was seen. Of the entire staff and escort, no one remained 
 but myself and a single courier. The rest had disappeared 
 before the terrible fire, as leaves disappear before the blasts of 
 winter. 
 
 Jackson reeled in the saddle, but no sound had issued from 
 his lips during the whole scene. He now declared, in faint 
 tones, that his arm was broken ; and, leaning forward, he fell 
 into my arms. 
 
 More bitter distress than I experienced at that moment I would 
 not wish to have inflicted upon my deadliest enemy. Nor was 
 my anxiety less terrible. The lines of the enemy were in sight 
 of the spot where the General lay. At any moment they might 
 advance, when he would fall into their hands. 
 
 No time was to be lost. I sent the courier for an ambulance ; 
 and, taking off the General's military satchel and his arms, 
 endeavored to stanch his wound. While I was thus engaged, I 
 experienced a singular consciousness that other eyes than the 
 General's were intently watching me. I can only thus describe 
 the instinctive feeling which induced me to look up — and there,
 
 474 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 in the edge of the thicket, within ten paces of me, was a dark 
 figure, motionless, on horseback, gazing at me 
 
 " Who is that?" I called out. 
 
 But no reply greeted my address. 
 
 " Is that one of the couriers ? If so, ride up there, and see 
 what troops those are that fired upon us." 
 
 At the order, the dark figure moved ; went slowly in the 
 direction which I indicated ; and never again appeared. Who 
 was that silent horseman ? I know not, nor ever expect to 
 know. 
 
 I had turned again to the General, and was trying to remove 
 his bloody gauntlets, when the sound of hoofs was heard in the 
 direction of our own lines, and soon General A. P. Hill ap- 
 peared, with his staff. Hastily dismounting, he expressed the 
 deepest regret at the fatal occurrence, and urged the General to 
 permit himself to be borne to the rear, as the enemy might, at 
 any moment, advance. 
 
 As he was speaking, an instant proof was afforded of the 
 justice of his fears. 
 
 " Halt ! surrender ! Fire on them, if they do not surrender !" 
 came from one of the staff in advance of the spot, toward the 
 enemy; and, in a moment, the speaker appeared, with two 
 Federal skirmishers, who expressed great astonishment at finding 
 themselves so near the Southern lines. 
 
 It was now obvious that no time was to be lost in bearing off 
 the General, and Lieutenant Morrison, one of the staff, exclaimed : 
 "Let us take the General up in our arms and carry him off!" 
 
 "No; if you can help me up, I can walk!" replied Jackson, 
 faintly. 
 
 And, as General Hill, who had drawn his pistol and mounted 
 his horse, hastened back to throw forward his line, Jackson rose 
 to his feet. 
 
 He had no sooner done so, than a roar like thunder came from 
 the direction of Chancellorsville, and a hurricane of shell swept 
 the road in which we stood. A fragment struck the horse of 
 Captain Leigh, of Hill's staff, who had just ridden up with a 
 litter, and his rider had only time t© leap to the ground when
 
 STUART AND JACKSON. 475 
 
 the animal fell. This hrave officer did not think of himself, 
 however ; he hastened to Jackson, who leaned his arm upon his 
 shoulder ; and, slowly dragging himself along, his arm bleeding 
 profusely, the General approached his own lines again. 
 
 Hill was now in motion, steadily advancing to the attack, and 
 the troops evidently suspected, from the number and rank of 
 the wounded man's escort, that he was a superior officer. 
 
 "Who is that?" was the incessant question of the men; but 
 the reply came as regularly, " Oh, only a friend of ours." 
 
 "When asked, just say it is a Confederate officer!" mur- 
 mured Jackson. 
 
 And he continued to walk on, leaning heavily upon the shoul- 
 ders of the two officers at his side. The horses were led along 
 between him and the passing troops ; but many of the soldiers 
 peered curiously around them, to discover who the wounded 
 officer was. 
 
 At last one of them recognized him as he walked, bareheaded, 
 in the moonlight, and exclaimed, in the most piteous tone I ever 
 heard : 
 
 " Great God ! that is General Jackson !" 
 
 "You are mistaken, my friend," was the reply of one of the 
 staff; and, as he heard this denial of Jackson's identity, the man 
 looked utterly bewildered. He said nothing more, however, and 
 moved on, shaking his head. Jackson then continued to drag 
 his feet along — slowly and with obvious pain. 
 
 At last his strength was exhausted, and it was plain that he 
 could go no further. The litter, brought by Captain Leigh, was 
 put in requisition, the General laid upon it, and four of the 
 party grasped the handles and bore it on toward the rear. 
 
 Such, up to this moment, had been the harrowing scenes of 
 the great soldier's suffering ; but the gloomiest and most tragic 
 portion was yet to come. 
 
 No sooner had the litter begun to move, than the enemy, who 
 had, doubtless, divined the advance of Hill, opened a frightful 
 fire of artillery from the epaulments near Chaneellorsville. The 
 turnpike was swept by a veritable hurricane of shell and canister 
 — men and horses fell before it, mowed down like grass — and,
 
 476 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 where a moment before had been seen the serried ranks of Hill, 
 the eye could now discern only riderless horses, men writhing in 
 the death agony, and others seeking the shelter of the woods. 
 
 That sudden and furious tire did not spare the small party 
 who were bearing off the great soldier. Two of the litter- 
 bearers were shot, and dropped the handles to the ground. Of 
 all present, none remained but myself and another ; and we 
 were forced to lower the litter to the earth, and lie beside it, to 
 escape the terrific storm of canister tearing over us. It struck 
 millions of sparks from the flint of the turnpike, and every 
 instant I expected would be our last. 
 
 The General attempted, during the hottest portion of the fire, 
 to rise from the litter ; but this he was prevented from doing ; 
 and the hurricane soon ceased. He then rose erect, and, leaning 
 upon our shoulders, while another officer brought on the litter, 
 made his way into the woods, where the troops were lying down 
 in line of battle. 
 
 As we passed on in the moonlight, I recognized General 
 Pender, in front of his brigade, and he also recognized me. 
 
 " "Who is wounded, Colonel ?" he said. 
 
 " Only a Confederate officer, General." 
 
 But, all at once, he caught a sight of General Jackson's face. 
 
 "Oh! General!" he exclaimed, "I am truly sorry to see you 
 are wounded. The lines here are so much broken that I fear 
 we will be obliged to fall back !" 
 
 The words brought a fiery flush to the pale face of Jackson 
 . Raising his drooping head, his eyes flashed, and he replied : 
 
 " You must hold your ground, General Pender ! You must 
 hold your ground, sir !" 
 
 Pender bowed, and Jackson continued his slow progress to 
 the rear. 
 
 He had given his last order on the field. 
 
 Fifty steps further, his head sank upon his bosom, his shoulders 
 bent forward, and he seemed about to fall from exhaustion. 
 In a tone so faint that it sounded like a murmur, he asked to be 
 permitted to lie down and die. 
 
 Instead of yielding to this prayer, we placed him again upon
 
 STUART AND JACKSON. 477 
 
 the litter — some bearers were procured — and, amid bursting 
 shell, which filled the moonlit sky above with their dazzling cor- 
 ruscations, we slowly bore the wounded General on, through 
 the tangled thicket, toward the rear. 
 
 So dense was the undergrowth that wo penetrated it with 
 difficulty, and the vines which obstructed the way more than 
 once made the litter-bearers stumble. From this proceeded a 
 most distressing accident. One of the men, at last, caught his 
 foot in a grape-vine, and fell — and, in his fall, he dropped the 
 handle of the litter. It descended heavily, and then, as the 
 General's shattered arm struck the ground, and the blood gushed 
 forth, he uttered, for the first time, a low, piteous groan. 
 
 We raised him quickly, and at that moment, a ray of moon- 
 light, glimmering through the deep foliage overhead, fell upon 
 his pale face and his bleeding form. Ilis eyes were closed, his 
 bosom heaved — I thought that he was about to die. 
 
 What a death for the man of Manassas and Port Republic 
 What an end to a career so wonderful ! Here, lost in the tangled 
 and lugubrious depths of this weird Wilderness, with the wan 
 moon gliding like a ghost through the clouds — the sad notes of 
 the whippoorwill echoing from the thickets — the shell bursting 
 in the air, like showers of falling stars — here, alone, without 
 other witnesses than a few weeping officers, who held him in 
 their arms, the hero of a hundred battles, the idol of the Southern 
 people, seemed about to utter his last sigh ! Never will the re- 
 collection of that scene be obliterated. Again my pulses throb, 
 and my heart is oppressed with its bitter load of anguish, as I 
 go back in memory to that night in the Wilderness. 
 
 I could only mutter a few words, asking the General if his 
 fall had hurt him — and, at these words, his eyes slowly opened. 
 A faint smile came to the pale face, and in a low murmur he 
 said : 
 
 " No, my friend ; do not trouble yourself about me !" 
 
 And again the eyes closed, his head fell back. With his grand 
 courage and patience, he had suppressed all evidences of suffer- 
 ing ; and, once more taking up the litter, we continued to bear 
 him toward the rear.
 
 478 SURRY OF E AGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 As we approached Melzi Chancellor's, a staff-officer of General 
 Hill recognized Jackson, and announced that Hill had been 
 wounded by the artillery fire which had swept down the turn- 
 pike. 
 
 Jackson rose on his bleeding right arm, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Where is Stuart!" 
 
 As though in answer to that question, we heard the quick 
 clatter of hoofs, and all at once the martial figure of the great 
 cavalier was seen rapidly approaching. 
 
 "Where is General Jackson?" exclaimed Stuart, in a voice 
 which I scarcely recognized. 
 
 And suddenly he checked his horse right in front of the group. 
 His drawn eabre was in his hand — his horse foaming. In the 
 moonlight I could see that his face was pale, and his eyes full 
 of gloomy emotion. 
 
 For an instant no one moved or spoke — and again I return in 
 memory to that scene. Stuart, clad in his "fighting jacket," 
 with the dark plume floating from his looped-up hat, reining in 
 his foaming horse, while the moonlight poured on his martial 
 features ; and before him, on the litter, the bleeding form of 
 Jackson, the face pale, the eyes half-closed, the bosom rising 
 and falling as the life of the great soldier ebbed away. 
 
 In an instant Stuart had recognized his friend, and had thrown 
 himself from his horse. 
 
 "You are dangerously wounded!" 
 
 " Yes," came in a murmur from the pale lips of Jackson, as 
 he faintly tried to hold out his hand. Then his cheeks suddenly 
 filled with blood, his eyes flashed, and, half rising from the litter, 
 he exclaimed: 
 
 " Oh 1 for two hours of daylight ! I would then cut off the 
 enemy from United States Ford, and they would be entirely 
 surrounded !" 
 
 Stuart bent over him, and their eyes met. 
 
 "Take command of my corps!" murmured Jackson, falling 
 back; "follow your own judgment — I have implicit confidence 
 in you ! " 
 
 Stuart's face flushed hot at this supreme recognition of hi»
 
 IN" A DREAM. 479 
 
 oourage and capacity — and I saw a flash dart from the fiery blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " But you will he near, General ! You will still send mc 
 orders !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " You will not need them," murmured Jackson ; "to-night or 
 early to-morrow you will be in possession of Chancellorsville ! 
 Tell my men that I am watching them — that I am with them in 
 spirit!" 
 
 " The watchword in the charge shall be, ' Remember Jack- 
 son!'" 
 
 And, with these fiery words, Stuart grasped the bleeding 
 hand ; uttered a few words of farewell, and leaped upon his 
 horse. For a moment his sword gleamed, and his black plume 
 floated in the moonlight ; then he disappeared, at full speed, to- 
 ward Chancellorsville. 
 
 At ten o'clock next morning he had stormed the intrench- 
 ments around Chancellorsville ; swept the enemy, with the 
 bayonet, back toward the Rappahannock; and as the troops, 
 mad with victory, rushed through the blazing forest, a thousand 
 voices were heard shouting : 
 
 " Remember Jackson !" 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 IN A DREAM. 
 
 Here I terminate my memoirs for the present, if not forever. 
 
 The great form of Jackson has disappeared from the stage. 
 What remains but a cold and gloomy theatre, from which the 
 spectators have vanished, where the lights are extinguished, and 
 darkness has settled down upon the pageant? 
 
 Other souls of fire, and valor, and unshrinking nerve were 
 left, and their career was glorious ; but the finger of Fate seemed 
 to mark out, with its bloody point, the name of " Chancellors- 
 ville," and the iron Tips to unclose and mutter: "Thus far, n«
 
 480 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 further!" "With the career of this man of destiny had waned 
 fhe strength of the South — when he fell, the end was in sight. 
 Thenceforward as good fighting as the world ever saw seemed 
 useless, and to attain no result. Even the soldiership of Lee — 
 such soldiership as renders famous forever a race and an epoch 
 — could achieve nothing. From the day of Chancellorsville, the 
 battle-flag, torn in so many glorious encounters, seemed to shine 
 no more in the light of victory. It drooped upon its staff, how- 
 ever defiantly at times it rose — slowly it descended. It fluttered 
 for a moment amid the fiery storm of Gettysburg, in the woods 
 of Spottsylvania, and on the banks of the Appomattox; but 
 never again did its dazzling folds flaunt proudly in the wind, and 
 burn like a beacon light on victorious fields. It was natural that 
 the army should connect the declining fortunes of the great flag 
 which they had fought under with the death of him who had 
 rendered it so illustrious. The form of Jackson had vanished 
 from the scene : that king of battle had 'dropped his sword, and 
 descended into the tomb : from that moment the star of hope, 
 like the light of victory, seemed to sink beneath ebon clouds. 
 The hero had gone down in the bloody gulf of battle, and the 
 torrent bore us away! 
 
 In the scenes of this volume, the great soldier has appeared as 
 I saw him. Those of his last hours I did not witness, but many 
 narratives upon the subject have been printed. Those last 
 moments were as serene as his life had been stormy — and there, 
 as everywhere, he was victorious. On the field it was his ene- 
 mies he conquered : here it was pain and suffering. That faith 
 which overcomes all things was in his heart, and among his last 
 words were : " It is all right !" 
 
 In that delirium which immediately precedes death, he gave 
 his orders as on the battle-field, and was distinctly heard direct- 
 ing A. P. Hill to "prepare for action!" But these clouds soon 
 passed — his eye grew calm again — and, murmuring " Let us 
 cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees !" he 
 fell back and expired. 
 
 Such was the death of this strange man. To me he seems so 
 great that all words fail in speaking of him. Not in this poor
 
 IN A DEE AM. 481 
 
 page do I attempt a characterization of this king of battle : I 
 speak no further of him — but I loved and shall ever love him. 
 
 A body laid in state in the Capitol at Eichmond, the coffin 
 wrapped in the pure Avhite folds of the newly-adopted Confed- 
 erate flag ; a great procession, moving to the strains of the Dead 
 March, behind the hearse, and the war-horse of the dead soldier ; 
 then the thunder of the guns at Lexington ; the coffin borne 
 upon a caisson of his own old battery, to the quiet grave — that 
 was the last of Jackson. Dead, he was immortal ! 
 
 As I w.rite that page here in my quiet library at Eagle's-Nest, 
 in October, 1865, I lay down my pen, lean back in my chair, and 
 murmur : 
 
 " Have I seen all that — or was it only a dream ?" 
 
 The Eappahannock flows serenely yonder, through the hills, 
 as in other years ; the autumn forests burn away, in blue and 
 gold and orange, as they did in the days of my youth ; the 
 winds whisper ; the sunshine laughs — it is only we who laugh 
 no more! 
 
 11 Was that a real series of events ?" I say ; " or only a drama 
 of the imagination ? Did I really hear the voice of Jackson, and 
 the laughter of Stuart, in those glorious charges, on those bloody 
 fields? Did Ashby pass before me on his milk-white steed, and 
 greet me by the camp-fire as his friend ? Did I fight by his side 
 in those hot encounters, watch the flash of his sabre, and hold 
 his bleeding form upon my breast ? Was it a real figure, that 
 stately form of Lee, amid the swamps of the Chi.okahominy, the 
 fire of Malvern Hill, the appalling din and smoke and blood 
 of Manassas, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsvil.e — of Gettysburg, 
 Spottsylvania, and Petersburg? Jackson, that greater than the 
 leader of the Ironsides — Stuart, more fiery than Enpert of tho 
 Bloody Sword — Ashby, the pearl of chivalry and honor — 1.< i . 
 the old Eoman, fighting, with a nerve so splendid, to the bitter 
 end — these were surely the heroes of some dream, the tonus of 
 in excited imagination ! Did Pelham press my hand, and hold 
 the pale face of Jean upon his heart, and fall in that stubborn 
 fight with Averill ? Did Farley smile, and fight, and die bear 
 the very same spot — and was it really the e*es of Stuart that 
 21
 
 482 SUKRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 dropped bitter tears upon the pallid faces of these youths, dead 
 on the field of honor ? "Were those spring flowers of Incognita, 
 which lay but now before me, real clusters from the sunny 
 slopes of Georgia, or the flowers of a dream ? "Was that proud, 
 bronzed face of Mordaunt real ? And the blue eyes, peering 
 from the golden curls of Violet Grafton — were they actual 
 eyes?" 
 
 It is like a dream to me that I looked upon these faces — that I 
 touched the honest hand of Hood ; gave back the courteous 
 smile of Ambrose Hill ; spoke with the hardy Longstreet, the 
 stubborn Ewell, Hampton the fearless, and the dashing and 
 chivalric Lees. Souls of fire and flame — with a light how steady 
 burned these stately names ! how they fought, these hearts of 
 oak ! But did they live their lives, these men and their com- 
 rades, as I seem to remember ? At Manassas, Sharpsburg, and 
 Chancellorsvine, was it two, three, and four to one that they 
 defeated? — and at Appomattox, in that black April of 1865, was 
 it really a force of only eight thousand muskets, which Lee long 
 refused to surrender to one hundred and forty thousand ? Did 
 these events take place in a real world, on an actual arena — or 
 did all those figures move, all those voices sound, in some realm 
 of the imagination ? It was surely a dream — was it not ? — that 
 the South fought so stubbornly for those four long years, and 
 bore the blood-red battle-flag aloft in so many glorious en- 
 counters, amid foes so swarming and so powerful — that she 
 would not yield, although so many brave hearts poured their 
 blood out on the weird plains of Manassas, the fak* fields of the 
 valley, by the sluggish waters of the Chickahominy, or amid the 
 sombre thickets of the Spottsylvania Wilderness ! 
 
 But the dream was glorious — not even the wimedicaiile milnns 
 of surrender can efface its splendor. Still it moves me, and 
 possesses me ; and I live forever in that past. Fond violet eyes, 
 that shone once at The Oaks, and now shine at Eagle's-Nest ! — 
 be not clouded with displeasure. It is only a few comrades of 
 the old time I am thinking of— a few things I have seen in the 
 long-gone ceLturies when we used to wear gray, and marched 
 under the red flag of the South! It is of these I dream — as
 
 IN A DREAM. 4S3 
 
 memory goes back to tliem I live once more in the days that are 
 dead. All things recall the scenes and personages of those years ; 
 and bring back from the tomb the phantom figures. They speak 
 to me, as in the former time, with their kindly voices — the pale, 
 dim faces flush, the eyes flash. 
 
 At all times — everywhere — the Past comes into the Present, 
 and possesses it. As I awake at morning, the murmur of the 
 river breeze is the low roll of drums from the forest yonder, 
 where the camps of infantry are aroused by the reveille. In the 
 moonlight nights, when all is still, a sound comes, borne upon 
 the breeze, from some dim land — I seem to hear the bugles. In 
 the thunder of some storm, I hear the roar of artillery. 
 
 Even now, as the glory of the sunlight falls on the great land- 
 scape of field and forest and river, a tempest gathers on the 
 Bhores of the Eappahanuock. The sunlight disappears, sucked 
 in by the black aud threatening ciouds which sweep from the far 
 horizon ; a gigantic pall seems slowly to descend upon the land- 
 scape, but a moment since so beautiful and smiling ; the lurid 
 lightnings flicker like quick tongues of flame, and, as these fiery 
 serpents play amid the ebon mass, a mighty wind arises, swells, 
 and roars on through the splendid foliage of the forest, whero 
 the year is dying on its couch of blood. 
 
 That is only a storm, you may say, perhaps — to me it is more. 
 Look ! those variegated colors of the autumn leaves are the 
 flaunting banners of an army drawn up there in line of battle, 
 and about to charge. Listen ! that murmur of the Rappahannock 
 is the shuffling sound of a great column on its march! — hush ! 
 there is the bugle! — and that rushing wind iu the trees of the 
 forest is the charge of Stuart and his horsemen ! How the hoof- 
 strokes tear along ! how the phantom horsemen shout as they 
 charge ! — how the ghost of Stuart rides ! 
 
 See the banners yonder, where the line of battle is drawn up 
 against the autumn woods — how their splendid colors burn, how 
 they flaunt and wave and ripple in the wind— proud and defiant ! 
 Is that distant figure on a horse the man of Tort Republic and 
 Chaucellorsville, with his old yellow cap, his dingy coat, his 
 piercing eyes — and is that humming sound the cheering of the
 
 484 SURRY OF EAGLE'S-NEST. 
 
 "Foot Cavalry," as they greet him? Look how the leafy ban- 
 ners—red as though dyed in blood— point forward, rippling as 
 they come! See that vivid, dazzling flash !— is it lightning, or 
 the glare of cannon ? Hear that burst of thunder, like the 
 opening roar of battle — Jackson is advancing ! 
 
 A quick throb of the heart— a hand balf reaching out to 
 clutch the hilt of the battered old sword on the wall— then I 
 sink back in my chair. 
 
 It was only a dream I
 
 ft*FW*4?;9