Read Ebook: Camp Venture: A Story of the Virginia Mountains by Eggleston George Cary McCullough W A William A Illustrator

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That gracefully and gayly springs, As o'er the marble courts of kings.

FAUQUIER COUNTY, VA., Feb. 28, 1863.

GENERAL:--I have the honor to report, that at four o'clock on the morning of the 26th instant I attacked and routed, on the Ox road, in Fairfax, about two miles from Germantown, a cavalry outpost, consisting of a lieutenant and fifty men. The enemy's loss was one lieutenant and three men killed, and five captured; number of wounded not known; also thirty-nine horses, with all their accoutrements, brought off. There were also three horses killed.

I did not succeed in gaining the rear of the post, as I expected, having been discovered by a vidette when several hundred yards off, who fired, and gave the alarm, which compelled me to charge them in front. In the terror and confusion occasioned by our terrific yells, the most of them saved themselves by taking refuge in a dense thicket, where the darkness effectually concealed them. There was also a reserve of one hundred men half a mile off who might come to the rescue. Already encumbered with prisoners and horses, we were in no condition for fighting. I sustained no loss. The enemy made a small show of fight, but quickly yielded. They were in log houses, with the chinking knocked out, and ought to have held them against a greatly superior force, as they all had carbines.

My men behaved very gallantly, although mostly raw recruits. I had only twenty-seven men with me. I am still receiving additions to my numbers.

If you would let me have some of the dismounted men of the First Cavalry, I would undertake to mount them. I desire some written instructions from you with reference to exportation of products within the enemy's lines. I wish the bearer of this to bring back some ammunition, also some large-size envelopes and blank paroles.

I have failed to mention the fact the enemy pursued me as far as Middleburg, without accomplishing anything, etc....

JNO. S. MOSBY.

MAJ.-GEN. J. E. B. STUART.

FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE, Jan. 27, 1863.

SIR:--Last night my pickets were driven in by some of Stuart's cavalry, wounding one and capturing nine. I then started with some two hundred men in pursuit.

Some twenty-seven miles beyond my pickets at Middleburg, I came up with them, and after a short skirmish, captured twenty-four of them. I have just returned.

P. WYNDHAM.

It was the latter part of January, 1863, when I crossed the Rappahannock into Northern Virginia, which from that time until the close of the war was the theatre on which I conducted partisan operations. The country had been abandoned to the occupation of the Federal army the year before, when Johnston retired from Centreville, and had never been held by us afterward, except during the short time when the Confederate army was passing through in Gen. Lee's first campaign into Maryland. I told Stuart that I would, by incessant attacks, compel the enemy either greatly to contract his lines or to reinforce them; either of which would be of great advantage to the Southern cause. The means supplied me were hardly adequate to the end I proposed, but I thought that zeal and celerity of movement would go far to compensate for the deficiency of my numbers. There was a great stake to be won, and I resolved to play a bold game to win it. I think that Stuart was the only man in the army of Northern Virginia, except two or three who accompanied me and knew me well, who expected that I would accomplish anything. Other detachments of cavalry had been sent there at different times that had done little or nothing.

Nearly every one thought that I was starting out on a quixotic enterprise, that would result in doing no harm to the enemy, but simply in getting all of my own men killed or captured. When at last I secured an independent command, for which I had so longed, I was as happy as Columbus when he set forth from the port of Palos with the three little barks Isabella had given him to search for an unknown continent. My faith was strong, and I never for a moment had a feeling of discouragement or doubted my ability to reap a rich harvest from what I knew was still an ungleaned field. I stopped an hour or so at Warrenton, which has always been a sort of political shrine from which the Delphian Apollo issues his oracles. After the war I made it my home, and it is generally supposed that I resided there before the war; the fact is that I never was in that section of Virginia until I went there as a soldier. The Union soldiers knew just as much about the country as I did.

I recall vividly to mind the looks of surprise and the ominous shaking of the heads of the augurs when I told them that I proposed going farther North to begin the war again along the Potomac. Their criticism on my command was pretty much the same as that pronounced on the English mission to Cabul some years ago--that it was too small for an army and too large for an embassy.

KERNSTOWN, VA., Nov. 26, 1864.

I have seen it stated in the reports of some Federal officers that they would throw down the gage of battle to me in my own country and that I would not accept it. I was not in the habit of doing what they wanted me to do. Events showed that my judgment was correct. After I had once occupied I never abandoned it, although the wave of invasion several times rolled over it.

News of the surrender, or, rather, the evacuation, of Richmond came to me one morning in April, 1865, at North Fork, in Loudoun County, where my command had assembled to go on a raid. Just two or three days before that I had defeated Colonel Reno, with the Twelfth Pennsylvania Cavalry, at Hamilton, a few miles from there, which was the last fight in which I commanded. Reno afterward enjoyed some notoriety in connection with the Custer massacre. My purpose was to weaken the armies invading Virginia, by harassing their rear. As a line is only as strong as its weakest point, it was necessary for it to be stronger than I was at every point, in order to resist my attacks. It is easy, therefore, to see the great results that may be accomplished by a small body of cavalry moving rapidly from point to point on the communications of an army. To destroy supply trains, to break up the means of conveying intelligence, and thus isolating an army from its base, as well as its different corps from each other, to confuse their plans by capturing despatches, are the objects of partisan war. It is just as legitimate to fight an enemy in the rear as in front. The only difference is in the danger. Now, to prevent all these things from being done, heavy detachments must be made to guard against them. The military value of a partisan's work is not measured by the amount of property destroyed, or the number of men killed or captured, but by the number he keeps watching. Every soldier withdrawn from the front to guard the rear of an army is so much taken from its fighting strength.

I endeavored, as far as I was able, to diminish this aggressive power of the army of the Potomac, by compelling it to keep a large force on the defensive. I assailed its rear, for there was its most vulnerable point. My men had no camps. If they had gone into camp, they would soon have all been captured. They would scatter for safety, and gather at my call, like the Children of the Mist. A blow would be struck at a weak or unguarded point, and then a quick retreat. The alarm would spread through the sleeping camp, the long roll would be beaten or the bugles would sound to horse, there would be mounting in hot haste and a rapid pursuit. But the partisans generally got off with their prey. Their pursuers were striking at an invisible foe. I often sent small squads at night to attack and run in the pickets along a line of several miles. Of course, these alarms were very annoying, for no human being knows how sweet sleep is but a soldier. I wanted to use and consume the Northern cavalry in hard work. I have often thought that their fierce hostility to me was more on account of the sleep I made them lose than the number we killed and captured. It has always been a wonder with people how I managed to collect my men after dispersing them. The true secret was that it was a fascinating life, and its attractions far more than counterbalanced its hardships and dangers. They had no camp duty to do, which, however necessary, is disgusting to soldiers of high spirit. To put them to such routine work is pretty much like hitching a race-horse to a plow.

Many expeditions were undertaken and traps laid to capture us, but all failed, and my command continued to grow and flourish until the final scene at Appomattox. It had just reached its highest point of efficiency when the time came to surrender. We did not go into a number of traps set to catch us, but somehow we always brought the traps off with us. One stratagem was after the model of the Grecian horse, and would have done credit to Ulysses. They sent a train of wagons up the Little River turnpike from Fairfax, apparently without any guard, thinking that such a bait would surely catch me. But in each wagon were concealed six of the Bucktails, who would, no doubt, have stopped my career, if I had given them a chance. Fortunately, I never saw them, for on that very day I had gone by another route down to Fairfax. When the Bucktails returned, they had the satisfaction of knowing that I had been there in their absence. At that time Hooker's army was in winter quarters on the Rappahannock, with a line of communication with Washington, both by land and water. The troops belonging to the defences at Washington were mostly cantoned in Fairfax, with their advance post at Centreville. West of the Blue Ridge, Milroy occupied Winchester. From my rendezvous east of the ridge I could move on the radius and strike any point on the circumference of the circle which was not too strongly guarded. But if I compelled them to be stronger everywhere than I was, then so much the better. I had done my work. Panics had often occurred in the camp when we were not near; the pickets became so nervous, expecting attacks, that they fired at every noise. It was thought that the honor as well as the safety of the army required that these depredations should no longer be endured, and that something must be done to stop them. Of course, the best way to do it was to exterminate the band, as William of Orange did the Macdonald of Glencoe. A cavalry expedition, under a Major Gilmer, was sent up to Loudoun to do the work. He had conceived the idea that I had my headquarters in Middleburg, and might be caught by surrounding the place in the night-time. He arrived before daybreak, and threw a cordon of pickets around it. At the dawn of day he had the village as completely invested as Metz was by the Germans. He then gradually contracted his lines, and proceeded in person to the hotel where he supposed I was in bed. I was not there; I never had been. Soldiers were sent around to every house with orders to arrest every man they could find. When he drew in his net there was not a single soldier in it. He had, however, caught a number of old men. It was a frosty morning, and he amused himself by making a soldier take them through a squad drill to keep them warm; occasionally he would make them mark time in the street front of the hotel. All this afforded a good deal of fun to the major, but was rather rough on the old men. He thought, or pretended to think, that they were the parties who had attacked his pickets. After a night march of twenty-five miles, he did not like to return to camp without some trophies, so he determined to carry the graybeards with him. He mounted each one behind a trooper, and started off. Now, it so happened that I had notified my men to meet that morning at Rector's Cross Roads, which is about four miles above Middleburg. When I got there I heard that the latter place was occupied by Federal cavalry. With seventeen men I started down the pike to look after them. Of course, with my small force, all that I could expect to do was to cut off some straggling parties who might be marauding about the neighborhood. When I got near Middleburg I learned that they had gone. We entered the town at a gallop. The ladies all immediately crowded around us. There were, of course, no men among them; Major Gilmer had taken them with him. There was, of course, great indignation at the rough usage they had received, and their wives never expected to see them again. And then, to add to the pathos of the scene, were the tears and lamentations of the daughters. There were many as pure and as bright as any pearl that ever shone in Oman's green water. Their beauty had won the hearts of many of my men. To avenge the wrongs of distressed damsels is one of the vows of knighthood; so we spurred on to overtake the Federal cavalry, in hopes that by some accident of war we might be able to liberate the prisoners.

As I have stated, my horse ran with me past the mill. My men stopped there and went to work, but I kept on. And now another danger loomed up in front of me. Just ahead was the bridge over Little River, and on the opposite bank I saw another body of cavalry looking on in a state of bewildered excitement. They saw the stampede at the mill and a solitary horseman, pistol in hand, riding full speed right into their ranks. They never fired a shot. Just as I got to the bridge I jumped off my horse to save myself from capture; but just at the same moment they wheeled and took to their heels down the pike. They had seen the rest of my men coming up. If I had known that they were going to run I would have stayed on my horse. They went clattering down the pike, with my horse thundering after them. He chased them all the way into the camp. They never drew rein until they got inside their picket lines. I returned on foot to the mill; not a half a dozen shots were fired. All that couldn't get away surrendered. But just then a Federal officer made his appearance at the bridge. He had ridden down the river, and, having just returned, had heard the firing, but did not comprehend the situation. Tom Turner of Maryland, one of the bravest of my men, dashed at him. As Turner was alone, I followed him. I now witnessed a single-handed fight between him and the officer. For want of numbers, it was not so picturesque as the combat, described by Livy, between the Horatii and the Curatii, nor did such momentous issues depend upon it. But the gallantry displayed was equally as great. Before I got up I saw the horse of the Federal officer fall dead upon him, and at the same time Turner seemed about to fall from his horse. The Federal officer, who was Capt. Worthington of the Vermont cavalry, had fired while lying under his horse at Turner and inflicted quite a severe wound. The first thing Turner said to me was that his adversary had first surrendered, which threw him off his guard, and then fired on him. Worthington denied it, and said his shot was fired in fair fight. I called some of the men to get him out from under his horse. He was too much injured by the fall to be taken away, so I paroled and left him with a family there to be cared for. While all this was going on, the men were busy at the mill. They had a good deal of fun pulling the Vermont boys out of the wheat bins. The first one they brought out was so caked with flour that I thought they had the miller. We got the commanding officer, Capt. Huttoon, and nineteen men and twenty-three horses, with their arms and equipments. I lingered behind with one man, and sent the captures back to Middleburg. Now, all the ladies there had been watching and listening as anxiously to hear from us as Andromache and her maids did for the news of the combat between Hector and Achilles. Presently they saw a line of blue coats coming up the pike, with some gray ones mixed among them. Then the last ray of hope departed--they thought we were all prisoners, and that the foe was returning to insult them. One of the most famous of my men--Dick Moran--rode forward as a herald of victory. He had the voice of a fog horn, and proclaimed the glad tidings to the town. While I was still sitting on my horse at the mill, three more of the Vermont men, thinking that all of us had gone, came out from their hiding place. I sent them on after the others. Up to this time I had been under the impression that it was Maj. Gilmer's rear-guard that I had overtaken. I now learned that this was a body of Vermont cavalry that had started that morning several hours after Gilmer had left. They had halted to feed their horses at the mill. As they came up they had seen a body of cavalry turn off toward Centreville. That was all they knew. I then rode down the road to look after my horse that I had lost. I had not gone far before I met the old men that Maj. Gilmer had taken off.

They were all happy at the ludicrous streak of fortune that had brought them deliverance. It seems that Maj. Gilmer knew nothing of the intention of Capt. Huttoon to pay Middleburg a visit that day. When he got below Aldie he saw a considerable body of cavalry coming from the direction of Fairfax. It never occurred to him that they were his own people. He took them for my men, and thought I was trying to surround him. Even if he did think the force he saw was my command, it is hard to understand why he should run away from the very thing that he was in search of. But so he did. Just at the point where he was when he saw the Vermont men the pike crosses the old Braddock road. It is the same on which the British general marched with young George Washington to death and defeat on the Monongahela. Maj. Gilmer turned and started down the Braddock road at about the speed that John Gilpin rode to Edmonton on his wedding day. The ground was soft, and his horses sank knee deep in the mud at every jump. Of course, those broke down first that were carrying two. As he thought he was hard pressed, he kept on fast and furious, taking no heed of those he left on the roadside. It was necessary to sacrifice a part to save the rest. Long before he got to Centreville, about one-half of his horses were sticking in the mud, and all his prisoners had been abandoned. They had to walk home. Maj. Gilmer never came after me again. I heard that he resigned his commission in disgust, and, with Othello, "bade farewell to the big wars that make ambition virtue." There was rejoicing in Middleburg that evening; all ascribed to a special providence the advent of the Vermont cavalry just in time to stampede the New Yorkers, and make them drop their prisoners; and that my horse had run away, and carried me safely through the Vermont squadron. The miller, too, was happy, because I had appeared just in time to save his corn. At night, with song and dance, we celebrated the events, and forgot the dangers of the day.

HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY BRIGADE, Fairfax Court-House, Va., March 3, 1863.

The officer who commanded this reconnoissance was Major Joseph Gilmer, of the Eighteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry. He had two hundred men. The orders to him were to proceed carefully, and send back couriers through the night with information whether they saw any enemy or not. This last order was disobeyed. They were not to cross Cub Run until daylight, and then try and gain all information possible by flankers and small detached scouting parties.

Major Gilmer went to Middleburg, and, while returning, the videttes of the First Vermont Cavalry noticed a part of his advance and prepared to skirmish. The advance fell back toward Aldie. Major Gilmer, instead of throwing out a party to reconnoitre, turned off with nearly the whole of his command in the direction of Groveton, to gain Centreville. The horses returned exhausted from being run at full speed for miles. A few of Major Gilmer's men left his command and went along the Little River turnpike toward the Vermont detachment. They reported that the men seen were a part of a scouting party under Major Gilmer, and that no enemy were in Aldie. Capt. Huttoon then entered the town, and halted to have the horses fed near a mill. Immediately beyond was a rising ground which hid the guerillas. While the horses were unbridled and feeding, the surprise occurred. As both the officers have been captured, and as the detachment was not under my command, and is not attached to this brigade, I have no means of receiving any official or exact report from them, nor is there any one belonging to that detachment here. All men belonging to this detachment seem to have fought well; the enemy did not pursue them; they fell back in good order.

Major Gilmer, when he returned, was unable to make a report to Lieut.-Col. Krepps, who during the time I was confined from sickness, had charge of the camp. I ordered Major Gilmer under arrest early this morning, and have sent to Col. R. B. Price charges, of which the annexed is a copy. Major Gilmer lost but one man, belonging to the Fifth New York Cavalry, who was mortally wounded by the enemy and afterwards robbed. He was away from the command and on this side of Aldie, his horse having given out. The enemy seemed to have been concealed along the line of march and murdered this man, when returning, without provocation.

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

FINDING.

SENTENCE.

BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR:

FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE, March 2, 1863.

SIR:--Fifty men of the First Vermont Cavalry, from Companies H and M, under captains Huttoon and Woodward, were surprised in Aldie while feeding their horses by about 70 of the enemy. Both captains captured and about 15 men. They saw no enemy but the attacking party. Major Gilmer has returned with the scouting party that left last night. They were to Middleburg and saw but one rebel. I have anticipated the report of Lieutenant-Colonel Krepps, now in command, which will be forwarded in probably one hour.

Within a few weeks after I began operations in Northern Virginia, I received accessions to my command from various sources. I have before spoken of the convalescents in the hospital at Middleburg, out of whom I got some valuable service. The Confederate government did not furnish horses to the cavalry, but paid each man forty cents a day compensation for the use of his horse. When the trooper lost his horse, or it became disabled, he was given a furlough to go to get another. A great many of this class of men came to me, to whom I would furnish captured horses in consideration of their going with me on a few raids. I made a proposition to mount all the dismounted men of Fitz Lee's brigade in consideration of their serving with me a short time. It was declined, and they were sent over to Fauquier under command of an ambitious officer, who thought, like Sam Patch when he leaped over Genesee falls, that some things could be done as well as others. Reports of my forays, which had been almost uniformly successful, had spread through the army, and it seemed, after the thing had been done, to be a very easy thing to surprise and capture cavalry outposts. The result of this attempt at imitation was that all the dismounted men were returned as prisoners of war via Fort Monroe, the mounted officer who commanded them alone escaping capture.

About this time I received a valuable recruit in the person of Sergt. Ames of the 5th New York cavalry, who deserted his regiment to join me. I never really understood what his motives were in doing so. I never cared to inquire. The men of my command insisted that I should treat him simply as a prisoner, and send him back to join many of his comrades whom I had sent to Richmond. After a long conversation with him I felt an instinctive confidence in his sincerity. He came to me on foot, but proposed to return to camp and mount himself if I would receive him. It happened that a young man named Walter Frankland was present, who also came on foot to join my standard. With my consent they agreed to walk down to Fairfax that night, enter the cavalry camp on foot and ride out on two of the best horses they could find. At the same time, I started off on an expedition in another direction. I had not gone far before I struck the trail of a raiding party of cavalry that had been off into Loudoun committing depredations on the citizens. I met old Dr. Drake walking home through snow and mud knee deep. He told me that the Federal cavalry had met him in the road, while he was going around to attend to the sick, and had not only taken his horse but also his saddle-bags, with all his medicines. As the Confederacy was then in a state of blockade, medicine was more valuable than gold, and great suffering would be inflicted on a community by the loss even of Dr. Drake's small stock. He told us that the marauders were not far ahead, and we spurred on to overtake them. Fortunately, as they were not far from their camps, they deemed themselves safe, and scattered over the country a good deal.

Before going very far we overtook a party that had stopped to plunder a house. As they were more intent on saving their plunder than fighting, they scampered off, but we were close on their heels. We had intercepted them and were between them and their camp, so they had to run in an opposite direction. But very soon they came to a narrow stream, the Horsepen Run, which was booming with the melted snow. The man on the fleetest horse, who was some distance in advance of the others, plunged in and narrowly escaped being drowned. He was glad to get back even as a prisoner. The others did not care to follow his example, but quietly submitted to manifest destiny. We got them all. They were loaded down mostly with silver spoons, of which they had despoiled the houses they had visited. But the richest prize of all we got was old Dr. Drake's saddle-bags. I was strongly tempted to administer to each one of the prisoners a purge by way of making them expiate their offence. Now, when Dr. Drake parted with his saddle-bags, he never expected to see them again, and supposed that as long as the war lasted his occupation would be gone, as a doctor without medicine and implements of surgery is like a soldier without arms. His surprise and delight may be imagined when a few hours afterward his saddle-bags and the captured silver were brought to him to be restored to the owners.

We then proceeded on toward Fryingpan, where I had heard that a cavalry picket was stationed and waiting for me to come after them. I did not want them to be disappointed in their desire to visit Richmond. When I got within a mile of it and had stopped for a few minutes to make my disposition for attack, I observed two ladies walking rapidly toward me. One was Miss Laura Ratcliffe, a young lady to whom Stuart had introduced me a few weeks before, when returning from his raid on Dumfries--with her sister. Their home was near Fryingpan, and they had got information of a plan to capture me, and were just going to the house of a citizen to get him to put me on my guard, when fortune brought them across my path. But for meeting them, my life as a partisan would have closed that day. There was a cavalry post in sight at Fryingpan, but near there, in the pines, a large body of cavalry had been concealed. It was expected that I would attack the picket, but that my momentary triumph would be like the fabled Dead Sea's fruit--ashes to the taste--as the party in the pines would pounce from their hiding-place upon me.

A garrulous lieutenant had disclosed the plot to the young lady, never dreaming that she would walk through the snow to get the news to me. This was not the only time during the war when I owed my escape from danger to the tact of a Southern woman. I concluded then to go in the direction of Dranesville in search of game. When we reached Herndon Station, I learned that the contents of a sutler's wagon, that had broken down when passing there that day, were concealed in a barn near by. The sutler had gone into camp to get another team to haul his goods in. In the exercise of our belligerent rights, we proceeded to relieve him of any further trouble in taking care of them. He had a splendid stock of cavalry boots, with which he seemed to have been provided in anticipation of the wants of my men. Now, loaded down with what was to us a richer prize than the Golden Fleece, we started back, but could not forbear taking along a cavalry picket near by which was not looking for us, as it had been understood that we were to attack Fryingpan that night, where preparations had been made to receive us. Once more I had tempted fortune, and from "the nettle danger had plucked the flower safety."

On my return to Middleburg I found Ames and Frankland there in advance of me. They had entered the camp of the Fifth New York cavalry at night on foot, and had ridden out on two of the finest horses they could find in the stables. They had passed in and out without ever having been molested or challenged by the guard. Ames had not had time to exchange his suit of blue for a gray one, but Frankland was in full Confederate uniform. It was a perfectly legitimate enterprise, certainly, as open and bold as the capture in the night-time of the Palladium of Troy by Ulysses and Diomede. But still the men were not satisfied of Ames's good faith. They said that he had not betrayed Frankland because he wanted to entrap us all at one time. A few days after that, I once more put him to a test which convinced the men of his truth and fidelity. He seemed to burn with an implacable feeling of revenge toward his old companions in arms. I never had a truer or more devoted follower. He was killed in a skirmish in October, 1864, and carried the secret of his desertion to the grave. I had made him a lieutenant, and he had won by his courage and general deportment the respect and affection of my men. They all sincerely mourned his death.

Since the war I have often passed his lonely grave in a clump of trees on the very spot where he fell. The soldier who killed him was in the act of taking his arms off when one of my men rode up and shot him. Ames is a prominent figure in the history of my command. It was my habit either to go myself, with one or two men, or to send scouts, to find out some weak and exposed place in the enemy's lines. I rarely rested for more than one day at a time. As soon as I knew of a point offering a chance for a successful attack, I gathered my men together and struck a blow. From the rapidity with which these attacks were delivered and repeated, and the distant points at which they were made, a most exaggerated estimate of the number of my force was made. I have before spoken of John Underwood, to whose courage and skill as a guide I was so much indebted for my earlier successes. He was equally at home threading a thick labyrinth of pines in Fairfax or leading a charge. He was among the first everywhere, and I always rewarded his zeal. About this time I had sent him down on a scout, from which he returned informing me that a picket of thirty or forty cavalry had been placed at Herndon Station on the Loudoun & Hampshire Railroad. This was the very place where I had got the sutler's wagon the week before. I could hardly believe it--I thought it must be another trap--for I could not imagine why such a number of men should be put there, except for the purpose of getting caught. I had supposed that the enemy had been taught something by experience. I collected my men and started down, though I did not expect to find any one at Herndon when I got there.

Fearing an ambuscade, and also hearing that the reserve at the post stayed in a house, I thought I would try my luck in the daytime. Besides, as most of my attacks had been made at night, I knew they would not expect me in the day. Underwood conducted me by all sorts of crooked paths through the dense forests until we got in their rear. We then advanced at a walk along the road leading to their camp at Dranesville, until we came upon a vidette, who saw us, but did not have time either to fire or to run away. He was ours before he recovered his senses, he was so much surprised. About 200 yards in front of us, I could see the boys in blue lounging around an old sawmill, with their horses tied by their halters to the fence. It was past twelve o'clock, and the sun was shining brightly, but there was a deep snow on the ground. They were as unconscious of the presence of danger as if they had been at their own peaceful homes among the Green Mountains. It happened to be just the hour for the relief to come from their camp at Dranesville. They saw us approaching, but mistook us for friends. When we got within 100 yards, I ordered a charge. They had no time to mount their horses, and fled, panic-stricken, into the sawmill and took refuge on the upper floor. I knew that if I gave them time to recover from the shock of their surprise they could hold the mill with their carbines against my force until re?nforcements reached them.

The promptness with which the opportunity was seized is the reason that they were lost and we were saved. They were superior in numbers, with the advantage of being under cover. The last ones had hardly got inside the mill before we were upon them. I dismounted and rushed into the mill after them, followed by John De Butts. The enemy were all above me. As I started up the steps I ordered the men to set fire to the mill. I knew that this order would be heard overhead and increase the panic. The mill was full of dry timber and shavings that would have burned them to cinders in ten minutes. As I reached the head of the stairway I ordered a surrender. They all did so. They had the alternative of doing this or being roasted alive. In a minute more the mill would have been in flames. Against such an enemy they had no weapon of defence, and, in preference to cremation, chose to be prisoners. On going out and remounting, I observed four finely caparisoned horses standing in front of the house of Nat Hanna, a Union man. I knew that the horses must have riders, and that from their equipments they must be officers. I ordered some of the men to go into the house and bring them out. They found a table spread with milk, honey, and all sorts of nice delicacies for a lunch. But no soldiers could be seen, and Mrs. Hanna was too good a Union woman to betray them. Some of the men went upstairs, but by the dim light could see nothing on the floor. Ames opened the door to the garret; he peeped in and called, but it was pitch dark, and no one answered. He thought it would do no harm to fire a shot into the darkness. It had a magical effect. There was a stir and a crash, and instantly a human being was seen descending through the ceiling. He fell on the floor right among the men. The flash of the pistol in his face had caused him to change his position, and in doing so he had stepped on the lathing and fallen through. His descent had been easy and without injury to his person. He was thickly covered with lime dust and mortar. After he was brushed off, we discovered that we had a major. His three companions in the dark hole were a captain and two lieutenants, who came out through the trap-door, and rather enjoyed the laugh we had on the major. As we left the house the lunch disappeared with us. It was put there to be eaten. The major was rather dilatory in mounting. He knew that the relief was due there, and was in hope not only of a rescue, but of turning the tables and taking us with him to his camp. But fate had decreed otherwise. He was admonished of the importance of time to us, and that he must go right on to Richmond, where he had started to go the year before.

As soon as possible, John Underwood, with a guard, went on in advance with the prisoners. Just as we left the railroad station the relief appeared in sight. I remained behind with a dozen men as a rear-guard, to keep them back until Underwood had got far ahead. The relief party hung on in sight of me for some distance, but never attacked. After I crossed the Horsepen, which almost swam our horses, I started off at a gallop, thinking the pursuit was over. This emboldened the pursuers, and a few came on and crossed after me. I saw that they were divided, and I halted, wheeled, and started back at them. They did not wait for me, but got over the stream as fast as they could. One fellow got a good ducking. I was now master of the situation. I drew up on a hill and invited them to come across, but they declined. I was not molested any more that day. A rather ludicrous thing occurred when we made the attack at the station. There was a so-called Union man there, named Mayo Janney. As he lived just on the outskirts of the picket line, he was permitted to conduct a small store, and trade with Washington. He had been down to the city, and, with other things, had brought out a hogshead of molasses, which he intended to retail to his neighbors at speculative prices. The element of danger in such a trade was, of course, largely considered in estimating the market value of the merchandise. Janney had his store in the vacant railroad depot. He had just knocked out the bung of the barrel of molasses, and was in the act of drawing some to fill the jug of a customer, when he heard the clatter and yell of my men, as they rushed down on the terrified pickets. As Herndon Station and the region round about was supposed to be in the exclusive occupation of the army of the United States, he could not have been more surprised at an earthquake, or if a comet had struck the earth. Forgetting all about the molasses, which he had left pouring out of the barrel, he rushed wildly to the door to see what was the matter. He saw the Vermont cavalry flying in every direction in confusion, and whizzing bullets passing unpleasantly close to his ears. Now, to be a martyr in any cause was just the last thing which a man in Fairfax, who had taken an oath to support the constitution of the United States, had any idea of being. Janney's idea of supporting the Union was to make some money out of it, and a living for his family. But he did not consider that his oath required him to stay there to be shot, or to help to bury or bind up the wounds of those who might be. His idea of honor was as selfish and material as Sir John Falstaff's. He preferred remaining a live man without it, to being a dead one who died with it yesterday. So Janney ran away as fast as his legs could carry him, and, if possible, his molasses ran faster than he did. He did not return for several hours to view the field. When he at last mustered up courage to go back, he found the molasses about shoe-deep all over the floor, but not a drop in the barrel. Now, Janney's loyalty to the Union was not altogether above suspicion. It was suspected that he had taken the oath for profit, and probably to enable him to act as a spy for me. The loss of his molasses proved his innocence; but for that fact he would have been arrested and sent to board at the Old Capitol on the charge of having given me the information on which I had acted.

When I overtook my command at Middleburg, I found Dick Moran, after the style of the ancient bards, in the street, rehearsing the incidents of the day to an admiring crowd. I paroled the privates and let them go home, as I could not then spare a guard to take them back to the Confederate lines, which were at Culpepper. I put the four officers on their parole to report at Culpepper to Fitz Lee, and sent with them, simply as an escort, a Hungarian whom we called Jake. On the way out they spent one night at a farmer's house. Now, Jake had been a soldier under Kossuth, and having had some experience in Austrian perfidy, had no sort of confidence in the military value of a parole. When time came for the officers to go to bed, Jake volunteered to take their boots down to the kitchen to be blacked. He had no fears of their leaving, bare-footed, in the snow, as long as he held on to their boots. Jake told me, with a chuckle, of his stratagem, on his return. He never doubted that it kept his prisoners from going away that night.

DRANESVILLE, VA., March 24, 1863.

COLONEL:--I have the honor to report, on the 17th instant, at 1 P.M., the reserve picket post at Herndon Station, consisting of twenty-five men, under command of Second Lieut. Alexander G. Watson, Company L, First Vermont Cavalry, was surprised by Capt. Mosby, with a force of forty-two men, and twenty-one of our men, together with Maj. William Wells, Capt. Robert Schofield, Company F, and Second Lieut. Alexander G. Watson, Company L, and Perley C. J. Cheney, Company C captured, all of First Vermont Cavalry; the three first were visiting the post. The surprise was so complete the men made but little or no resistance. The enemy were led on by citizens and entered on foot by a bridle-path in rear of the post, capturing the vidette stationed on the road before he was able to give the alarm. Every effort was made, on receipt of the intelligence by me, to capture the party, but without avail. Had Second Lieut. Edwin H. Higley, Company K, First Vermont Cavalry, who had started with the relief for the post, consisting of forty men, together with ten of the old guard, who joined him, performed his duty, the whole party could, and would, have been taken. I cannot too strongly urge that orders may be given that all citizens near outpost must remove beyond the lines. Such occurrences are exceedingly discreditable, but sometimes unavoidable, not only calculated to embolden the enemy, but dispirit our men. I am, &c.,

NEAR PIEDMONT, VA., March 18, 1863.

GENERAL:--Yesterday I attacked a body of the enemy's cavalry at Herndon Station, in Fairfax County, completely routing them. I brought off twenty-five prisoners--a major , one captain, two lieutenants, and twenty-one men, all their arms, twenty-six horses and equipments. One, severely wounded, was left on the ground. The enemy pursued me in force, but were checked by my rear-guard and gave up the pursuit. My loss was nothing.

The enemy have moved their cavalry from Germantown back of Fairfax Court House on the Alexandria pike.

In this affair my officers and men behaved splendidly, &c.

MAJ.-GEN. J. E. B. STUART.

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