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Virginia (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
n were the little villages, sleeping like Centreville in the hollow of green hills, or perched like Fairfax on the summit of picturesque uplands. These were old Virginia hamlets, full of recollections; here the feet of Mason and Washington had trod, and here had grown up generation after generation ignorant of war. Peace reigned ed with the faculty of producing in his throat the exactest imitation of every bird of the forest; and the third was a mighty master of the backstep, viz. an old Virginia breakdown. Upon their appearance the performances commenced! Iii. Behold the scene now, reader, as I looked at it, on that evening of December in 1861. his merriment is not gay. Always those long-dead scenes came to him with a sort of dreamy sadnessthe mirth is mournful, and the laughter dies away. No more at Camp Qui Vive, or any other camp, will the laugh of Stuart ring out joyous and free. He is gone-but lives still here upon the soil of Virginia, and will live for ever!
Vienna (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
t writer-like many others, doubtless-goes back in memory across the gulf of years to 1861, recalling its great scenes and personages, and living once more in that epoch full of such varied and passionate emotions. Manassas! Centreville! Fairfax! Vienna!-what memories do those names excite in the hearts of the old soldiers of Beauregard! That country, now so desolate, was then a virgin land, untouched by the foot of war. The hosts who were to trample it still lingered upon the banks of the Potolle, the infantry and artillery of the army quietly enjoyed the bad weather which forbade all military movements; but the cavalry, that eye and ear of an army, were still in face of the enemy, and had constant skirmishes below Fairfax, out toward Vienna, and along the front near the little hamlet of Annandale. How well I remember all those scenes! and I think if I had space I could tell some interesting stories of that obstinate petiteguerre of picket fighting-how the gray and blue coats fo
Calvary (Israel) (search for this): chapter 2.16
bullets, or charred by the torch of war. The land seemed doomed, and to rest under a curse. That Federal vedette yonder, as we advance, is the only living object we behold, and even he disappears like a phantom. Can this, you murmur, be the laughing land of yesterday, the abode of peace, and happiness, and joy? Can this be Fairfax, where the fields of wheat once rolled their golden waves in the summer wind, and the smiling houses held out arms of welcome? Look, it has become a veritable Golgotha — the place of skulls --a sombre Jehoshaphat full of dead men's bones! I remember all that, and shall ever remember it; but in contrast with these scenes of ruin and desolation, come back a thousand memories, gay, joyous, and instinct with mirth. The hard trade of war is not all tragedy; let us laugh, friends, when we can; there are smiles as well as tears, comedy as well as tragedy, in the great and exciting drama. You don't weep much when the sword is in the hand. You fight hard; a
Alabama (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
tens and her eyes dance. Her cheeks grow more rosy, her smiles brighter; even her elderly companion relaxes somewhat from her rigidly hostile expression, and pays attention to the music. The Mocking-bird ends, and is succeeded by the plaintive Alabama! Alabama! --the guitar still thrumming, the ventriloquist still accompanying the music with his bird-notes. Other songs succeed, and then General Stuart turns round with a laugh and calls for a breakdown. Thereupon the dilapidated African, whoAlabama! --the guitar still thrumming, the ventriloquist still accompanying the music with his bird-notes. Other songs succeed, and then General Stuart turns round with a laugh and calls for a breakdown. Thereupon the dilapidated African, who has up to this time remained motionless, advances into the arena, dropping his hat first at the door. Bob strikes up a jig upon his guitar, the ventriloquist claps, and the great performer of the breakdown commences his evolutions, first upon the heel-tap, then upon the toe. His antics are grand and indescribable. He leaps, he whirls, he twists and untwists his legs until the crowd at the door grows wild with admiration. The guitar continues to roar and Stuart's laughter mingles with it; th
Centreville (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
at epoch full of such varied and passionate emotions. Manassas! Centreville! Fairfax! Vienna!-what memories do those names excite in the heand of special attraction were the little villages, sleeping like Centreville in the hollow of green hills, or perched like Fairfax on the sumars 1861, when Johnston and Beauregard were holding the lines of Centreville against McClellan; and when Stuart, that pearl of cavaliers, wasthe front, which he guarded with his cavalry. In their camps at Centreville, the infantry and artillery of the army quietly enjoyed the bad ouse known as Mellen's, but officially as Camp Qui Vive, between Centreville and Fairfax Court-House. It was a day of December; the sun sd confined. Stuart could not release them; he must send them to Centreville, by standing order from General Johnston, and thither they were him since the preceding evening. I accompanied the ladies to Centreville, and they did not utter a single unfriendly word upon the way in
Alexandria (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
t writer-like many others, doubtless-goes back in memory across the gulf of years to 1861, recalling its great scenes and personages, and living once more in that epoch full of such varied and passionate emotions. Manassas! Centreville! Fairfax! Vienna!-what memories do those names excite in the hearts of the old soldiers of Beauregard! That country, now so desolate, was then a virgin land, untouched by the foot of war. The hosts who were to trample it still lingered upon the banks of the Potomac; and the wildest fancy could not have prefigured its fate. It was a smiling country, full of joy and beauty — the domain of ancient peace; and of special attraction were the little villages, sleeping like Centreville in the hollow of green hills, or perched like Fairfax on the summit of picturesque uplands. These were old Virginia hamlets, full of recollections; here the feet of Mason and Washington had trod, and here had grown up generation after generation ignorant of war. Peace reigned
Manassas, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
n dreams as it were, the present writer-like many others, doubtless-goes back in memory across the gulf of years to 1861, recalling its great scenes and personages, and living once more in that epoch full of such varied and passionate emotions. Manassas! Centreville! Fairfax! Vienna!-what memories do those names excite in the hearts of the old soldiers of Beauregard! That country, now so desolate, was then a virgin land, untouched by the foot of war. The hosts who were to trample it still lingthe saddle, Stuart became the evil genius of the invading column; and long afterwards, when transferred to the West, General Johnston wrote to him: How can I eat, sleep, or rest in peace, without you upon the outpost! From the Valley he came to Manassas, charged the Zouaves there, and then was made a Brigadier-General and put in command of the cavalry of the army which held the front toward Alexandria. It is at this time, December, 1861, that I present him to the reader. Go back with me to
Annandale (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
ard were holding the lines of Centreville against McClellan; and when Stuart, that pearl of cavaliers, was in command of the front, which he guarded with his cavalry. In their camps at Centreville, the infantry and artillery of the army quietly enjoyed the bad weather which forbade all military movements; but the cavalry, that eye and ear of an army, were still in face of the enemy, and had constant skirmishes below Fairfax, out toward Vienna, and along the front near the little hamlet of Annandale. How well I remember all those scenes! and I think if I had space I could tell some interesting stories of that obstinate petiteguerre of picket fighting-how the gray and blue coats fought for the ripe fruit in an orchard just between them, all a winter's afternoon; how Farley waylaid, with three men, the whole column of General Bayard, and attacked it; and how a brave boy fell one day in a fight of pickets, and was brought back dead, wrapped in the brilliant oil-cloth which his siste
Fairfax, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.16
and personages, and living once more in that epoch full of such varied and passionate emotions. Manassas! Centreville! Fairfax! Vienna!-what memories do those names excite in the hearts of the old soldiers of Beauregard! That country, now so deso of special attraction were the little villages, sleeping like Centreville in the hollow of green hills, or perched like Fairfax on the summit of picturesque uplands. These were old Virginia hamlets, full of recollections; here the feet of Mason anntom. Can this, you murmur, be the laughing land of yesterday, the abode of peace, and happiness, and joy? Can this be Fairfax, where the fields of wheat once rolled their golden waves in the summer wind, and the smiling houses held out arms of weements; but the cavalry, that eye and ear of an army, were still in face of the enemy, and had constant skirmishes below Fairfax, out toward Vienna, and along the front near the little hamlet of Annandale. How well I remember all those scenes!
Johnston (search for this): chapter 2.16
t, some of my readers would be interested. It took place in autumn of the gay years 1861, when Johnston and Beauregard were holding the lines of Centreville against McClellan; and when Stuart, that ping in his pickets, getting in rear of his camps, and cutting off his foraging parties — that Johnston said of him: He is worse than a yellow-jacket-they no sooner brush him off than he lights back the evil genius of the invading column; and long afterwards, when transferred to the West, General Johnston wrote to him: How can I eat, sleep, or rest in peace, without you upon the outpost! From td. Stuart could not release them; he must send them to Centreville, by standing order from General Johnston, and thither they were accordingly dispatched on the next morning after breakfast. The Genailed as a driver, and the general requested me to accompany the ladies and conduct them to General Johnston. Then he exhibited his gallantry after the military fashion. The ladies had entered th
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