George H. Gordon, From Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain

[140] continued bumping, and the consciousness of being a merited object of mirth, naturally increased this officer's ire; and it was vented in renewed digging of spurs, until the animal, in sheer desperation at being held in tightly ahead and sharply urged astern, bumped into the drummajor of our regiment and nearly knocked him down, at which the smile was louder than allowed by the regulations. “He does n't mind shells, either, half as much as I do,” said the perturbed aid, as he eyed the sorry beast askance while he dwelt upon his vices; “in fact,” he added, “I should like to see the Devil himself make him shy. When those shells were coming over at Woodstock, making a perfectly infernal noise, and other horses were on the rampage, there stood this beast as quiet as if in a stable. Even when I saw a shell fired, and tried the protection of a friendly tree, he wouldn't stir a peg faster than usual; and the shell burst long before I got him there. But he has one virtue,--I can leave him anywhere, and he will stand till doomsday.” As I, too, had just secured a new horse, one belonging to an officer of Ashby's cavalry, captured by one of our skirmishers as we entered Woodstock, I was anxious to try his mettle. The contrast between my aid's horse and mine only served to make more conspicuous the shortcomings of the former. My horse would take a six-rail fence beautifully. After bounding over I often turned to look back, and call out, “Come along, don't stop for that!” at which my aid's big farm plough-horse would come up, run square into the fence, bump his knees, sneeze, turn around, and stand, firmly courting death rather than attempt the fence. “But if there are only four rails, now,” cries out the aid, “he will take that.” “Orderly, take down two of those rails. Now, Captain, take a fair start: let him out!” Down came the Captain with pace growing slower and slower, until he