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ing out to Virginia that firm, brave hand of South Carolina. At ten o'clock in the morning, on this eventful day, the battle seemed lost to the Southerners. Evans was cut to pieces; Bee shattered and driven back in utter defeat to the Henry-House hill; between the victorious enemy and Beauregard's unprotected flank were interposed only the six hundred men of the Legion already up, and the two thousand six hundred and eleven muskets of Jackson not yet in position. The Legion occupied the Warrenton road near the Stone House, where it met and sustained with stubborn front the torrent dashed against it. General Keyes, with his division, attacked the six hundred from the direction of Red-House ford, and his advance line was forced back by them, and compelled to take refuge beneath the bluffs near Stone bridge. The column of General Hunter, meanwhile, closed in on the left of the little band, enveloped their flank, and poured a destructive artillery fire along the line. To hold their
if any were made, or cut their way through, and on that black night no uniform was discernible. Mosby approached Germantown by the Little River turnpike; but fearing Wyndham's cavalry, obliqued to the right, and took to the woods skirting the Warrenton road. Centreville was thus, with its garrison, on his right and rear, Germantown on his left, and Fairfax, winged with infantry camps, in his front. It was now raining heavily, and the night was like pitch. The party advanced by bridle-paths the incessant patter of the rain drowned the hoof-strokes of the horses. A mile from Fairfax the gleam of tents greeted them in front, and finding the approaches barred in that direction they silently obliqued to the right again, crossed the Warrenton road, and gradually drew near the town on the southern side. Again the woods and the rain served them. Their advance was undiscovered, and at last they were close upon the place. An infantry picket was the only obstacle, but this was soon re
parison will prove dangerous; but a reader here and there may be interested in a vision of sudden death which I myself once saw in a human eye. On the occasion in question, a young, weak-minded, and timid person was instantaneously confronted, without premonition or suspicion of his danger, with the abrupt prospect of an ignominious death; and I think the great English writer would have considered my incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when th
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., From the Rapidan to Frying-Pan in October, 1863. (search)
ove toward Madison Court-House with the rest of Stuart's cavalry on their right flank, to mask the movement; and, thence pushing on to the Rappahannock, make for Warrenton, somewhere near which point it was probable that they would strike General Meade's column on its retreat. Then a decisive trial of strength in a pitched battle.l sharpshooters, they charged across. The Federal force gave way before them, and crossing his whole column Stuart pushed on upon the track of the enemy toward Warrenton, followed by the infantry, who had witnessed the feats of their cavalry brethren with all the satisfaction of outside spectators. In Jeffersonton and at Warre forehead; while in a bed opposite lay a wounded Federal officer. In the fields around were dead men, dead horses, and abandoned arms. The army pushed on to Warrenton, the cavalry still in advance, and on the evening of the next day Stuart rapidly advanced with his column to reconnoitre toward Catlett's Station, the scene of h
aper with its tremulous signature moves me all the same. Ii. It was in the last days of October, 1862. McClellan had followed Lee to Sharpsburg; fought him there; refitted his army; recrossed the Potomac, and was rapidly advancing toward Warrenton, where the fatal fiat from Washington was to meet him, Off with his head! So much for Buckingham. But in these last days of October the wind had not yet wafted to him the decree of the civilians. He was pressing on in admirable order, andntroduced him to me as Captain Stone, of the United States Army. Then, drawing me aside, the General said: I wish you would make Captain Stone's time pass as agreeably as possible. We ought to treat him well. In fording a stream near Warrenton, after his capture, he saved the life of Colonel Payne. The Colonel was wearing a heavy overcoat with a long cape, when his horse stumbled in the water, threw him, and as the heavy cape confined his arms, he would have been drowned but for the
cember, 1861. I was at that time Volunteer A. D. C. to General Stuart of the cavalry, and was travelling from Leesburg to his headquarters, which were on the Warrenton road, between Fairfax and Centreville. I travelled in a light one-horse vehicle, an unusual mode of conveyance for a soldier, but adopted for the conveniencetron that the road in question was the very one which led to the turnpike. Never did Delphic oracle make a more truthful or a falser announcement. It was the Warrenton turnpike which I desired to reach by flanking Centreville, and cutting off the angle-and lo! with a cheerful heart, I was journeying, as will be seen, toward otn and then began to laugh. Good! I said. I should like particularly to know how I got here. I thought I knew the country thoroughly, and that this was the Warrenton road. Which way did you come? asked the Captain, suspiciously. By the Frying Pan road. I intended to take the short cut to the left of Centreville. Y
xtensive and profound; his devices to deceive them are rarely unsuccessful. Take in proof of this a trifling occurrence some time since, in the neighbourhood of Warrenton. The enemy's cavalry, in strong force, occupied a position in front of the command which Captain Mosby accompanied. Neither side had advanced, and, in the lulle and the turnpike, keeping in the woods, and leaving Centreville well to the right. He was now advancing in the triangle which is made by the Little River and Warrenton turnpikes and the Frying Pan road. Those who are familiar with the country there will easily understand the object of this proceeding. By thus cutting throughpierced with devious and uncertain paths only, which the dense darkness scarcely enabled them to follow, the partisan and his little band finally struck into the Warrenton road, between Centreville and Fairfax, at a point about midway between the two places. One danger had thus been successfully avoided ā€” a challenge from parties
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S-- captured a Federal Colonel's hat (search)
ons of the past. In the summer of the good year 1863, Sā€” went with two or three companions on a little scout toward Warrenton. Do you know the pretty town of Warrenton, good reader? 'Tis a delightful little place, full of elegant mansions, Warrenton, good reader? 'Tis a delightful little place, full of elegant mansions, charming people, and situated in a lovely country. Nowhere are the eyes of youthful maidens bluer-au revoir bien-t6t, sweet stars of my memory!--nowhere are truer hearts, or more open hands. Here Farley, the famous partisan-one of the friends I lo a cavalry-man, rove still, even on paper. I perceive I am growing dull. To return to S- and his little scout near Warrenton in 1863. I cannot fail to interest then, you see, my dear reader; for there is a certain species of human interest in s, a satisfied reader. Sā€” had, as I have said, two or three companions with him; and having slept in the woods near Warrenton, the party proceeded toward Catlett's in search of adventures. There were plenty of Federal camps there, and in the ne
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S.-carried off a Federal field-officer. (search)
Providence to guide him, and to his own skill and courage for the result. The country swarmed with the enemy; and to find out all about them, their strength, position, and probable designs, was the main object of S-in going on his scout. If, however, any opportunity of striking a blow presented itself, he intended to avail himself of the opening. As will be seen, such opportunity did present itself, and was promptly improved. The scout reached, without adventures, the vicinity of Warrenton, and was riding through a thick body of woods, when all at once, on turning a bend in the winding bridle-path, he came suddenly upon a Federal Colonel, followed by two orderlies. The undergrowth was so thick, and the earth so soft, that he was entirely unaware of the vicinity of his foes, until the horses' heads were almost touching. For a moment the opponents gazed upon each other motionless and in silence. The Colonel and his escort seemed to have a dim impression that the silent
s not denied. I proceed to give a brief account of a recent scout which S-- made into the Federal lines: One fine summer day in 1863 he took four men, made his way unperceived across the Rappahannock, and soon reached the neighbourhood of Warrenton. Leaving that place to his left, he struck out with his party for the railroad, and coming near a Federal camp, placed his four men in ambush, and taking a position on the road, awaited the appearance of some prey. He had not waited long whenisoner. I am no guerilla, was the reply. What do you belong to? The first New Jersey. Who comamnds it? Major Janaway. Right. Who commands the brigade? Colonel Taylor. Right again. Where is it stationed? In the edge of Warrenton. Yes. Who commands the division? Look here, said Sā€” , who was thoroughly acquainted with every part of his role, I am tired of your asking me so many questions; but I will answer. The First New Jersey is in Taylor's brigade, Gregg's div