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[62] camp to get supper at a farm-house, and, waiting for the long delayed tea, were surprised to find several revolvers suddenly advance into the room, behind each pair of which was either C:)lo el Mosby, a rebel captain or a lieutenant, all rather determined men, with “shoot in their eyes,” who demanded the immediate surrender of the aforesaid Yankees. The aim being wicked, the three Twenty-firsters saw they were “under a cloud,” and so quietly gave up the contest.

Colonel Mosby was much elated by his good fortune, and required his prisoners to follow him supperless on his rounds to his headquarters at Paris; the private, however, while pretending to get his horse, hid himself in the hay and escaped, Mosby not daring to wait and hunt him up.

On the way to Paris, the Colonel amused himself by constantly taunting his prisoners with questions: “Were they with Major Cole when he thrashed him at Upperville?” “Were they with Major Sullivan, of the First veterans, when his men ran away and left him?” “How did they fancy his gray nag?--he took that from a Yankee lieutenant.” “Didn't the Yanks dread him and his men more than they did the regular rebel cavalry?” “How did they (the prisoners) like his style of fighting?” and a hundred such remarks, that indicated the man as being more of a braggart than a hero.

He was, in the mean time, engaged in gathering his men with the avowed intention of attacking Captain Gere's force at daylight, and, if possible, of cutting it to pieces. His followers live in the farm-houses of Loudon, Clarke, and Jefferson counties, and are either rebel soldiers or Union citizens, as the case may require. He would ride up to a house, call Joe or Jake, and tell them that he wanted them at such an hour at the usual place; to go and tell Jim or Mose. Almost every farm turned out somebody in answer to his call, proving that these men, with the certified oath of. allegiance in their pockets, and with passes allowing them to come in and go out of our lines at will, are not only in sympathy with the enemy, but are themselves perjured rebels.

When they arrived at Paris, Colonel Mosby dismounted and stepped Into the house where he had his headquarters, leaving his pistols in the holsters. The Lieutenant, with drawn revolver, watched the prisoners while the Captain endeavored to find an orderly to take the horses. Corporal Simpson, who had been marking the road for future use, and had been long looking for it, saw his chance and pretended to tie his horse, but really putting his foot into the stirrup of Mosby's saddle and laying hold of one of the overlooked pistols. The Lieutenant detected the move and fired at him, when Simpson shot him through the heart with the weapon he had secured. The Captain turned round and fired, and Colonel Mosby came to the door to see “what all that----row was about,” just in time to hear a bullet whiz unpleasantly close to his head, that he fired at him “just for luck” as he and his comrade left, yelling back: “Colonel Mosby, how do you like our style of fighting? We belong to the Twenty-first New-York.” And away they went, leaving Colonel Mosby dismounted, and outwitted of his best horse, saddle, overcoat, pistols, two Yankee prisoners, and at least one vacancy among his commissioned officers. Corporal Simpson rode twelve miles to the camp, closely followed by the Sergeant, and gave Captain Gere such notice of the enemy's intentions that they thought best not to pitch in at the appointed time.

The captured horse is a very fine one, and with the arms, equipments, etc., is still in the possession of simpson. We believe it. is the intention of the regiment to buy them from the Government, and to present them to the “Yankee Corporal who beat Mosby out of his pet nag.”

Captain Gere returned to camp at Halltown Saturday afternoon, having captured Lieutenant Wysong, of the Seventh Virginia. the successor of Captain Blackford, a noted guerrilla, who was killed by a sergeant of the First New-York.

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