the little village of Vienna-General Bonham commanding the detachment of a brigade or so. Here we duly waited for an enemy who did not come; watched his mysterious balloons hovering above the trees, and regularly turned out whenever one picket (gray) fired into another (gray).
This was tiresome, and one day in August I mounted my horse and set forward toward Fairfax Court-House, intent on visiting that gay cavalry man, Colonel Jeb Stuart, who had been put in command of the front toward Annandale.
A pleasant ride through the summer woods brought me to the picturesque little village; and at a small mansion about a mile east of the town, I came upon the cavalry headquarters.
The last time I had seen the gay young Colonel he was stretched upon his red blanket under a great oak by the roadside, holding audience with a group of country people around himhonest folks who came to ascertain by what unheard — of cruelty they were prevented from passing through his pickets to their homes