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I was at that time Volunteer A. D. C. to General Stuart of the cavalry, and was travelling from Leich remained stationary. I am going to General Stuart's headquarters. Came from Leesburg and haed to the mute appeal: I am Aide to General Stuart, and in search of his headquarters. I havndered over his face. How far is it to General Stuart's headquarters? I asked; and which road d one gets as hungry as a hawk. I'm afraid General Stuart's supper will be eat up to the last mouthfone at all. All quiet. Are you going to General Stuart's headquarters to-night? If I can find I am a prisoner, you know, and I think General Stuart is in command of the outpost. The Colonof the term, all right; that I was Aide to General Stuart; that I had come that day from Leesburg; t Do you know the road which leads in to General Stuart's headquarters? No, sir. Drive on! e in his blanket. Which is the road to General Stuart's headquarters? I asked. Don't know, [1 more...]
the General. Get up quick, I want you, responded the Captain. Do you know who I am? cried the Brigadier, sitting up in bed, with a scowl. I will have you arrested, sir! Do you know who I am? retorted the Captain, shortly. Who are you? Did you ever hear of Mosby? Yes! Tell me, have you caught the-- rascal! No, but he has caught you! And the Captain chuckled. What does all this mean, sir! cried the furious officer. It means, sir, the Captain replied, that Stuart's cavalry are in possession of this place, and you are my prisoner. Get up and come along, or you are a dead man! Bitter as was this order, the General was compelled to obey, and the partisan mounted him, and placed him under guard. His staff and escort were captured without difficulty, but two of the former, owing to the darkness and confusion, subsequently made their escape. Meanwhile the other detachments were at work. They entered the stables, and led out fifty-eight very fine
and sought that haven of rest for the weary soldier — a wagon not until he had his surgeon's certificate, however; and with this in his pocket, the Corporal went home to rest a while. I think this tremendous tramp from Winchester to Manassas, by way of Richmond, caused Corporal Bumpo to reflect. His feet were swollen, and his mind absorbed. He determined to try the cavalry. Succeeding, with difficulty, in procuring a transfer, he entered a company of the Cavalry Division under Major-General Stuart, whose dashing habits suited him; and no sooner had he done so than his habitual luck attended him. On the second day he was in a very pretty little charge near Aldie. The Corporal-now private again-got ahead of his companions, captured a good horse, and supplied himself, without cost to the Confederate States, with a light, sharp, well balanced sabre. Chancing to be in his vicinity I can testify to the gay ardour with which the ex-Corporal went after his old adversaries, no longer
le combat, with the pistol, rather than in line of battle with the musket. It results from this that the life of the scout is apt to be crowded with adventure, contrast, and all that is picturesque. Here to-day, away to-morrow; closeted with the commanding general, while an orderly keeps off all intruders, and then disappearing like a shadow on some secret mission; passing the most obdurate pickets with a single word; silently appearing in the houses of friends far behind the enemy's lines; reconnoitring their camps, picking up stragglers, attacking them alone or in company with others, upon all occasions-such are some of the phases which the scout exhibits, such some of the occupations of his stirring existence. A few of these adventurous incidents are here recorded just as I heard them from an accomplished scout of General Stuart. They will be found sufficiently romantic, but I believe them to be exactly true. As such, they possess a value which no mere fiction could.
Hunted down. Among the numerous scouts employed by General Stuart, none was braver or more intelligent than a young man named Frank S-. Innumerable were his adventures, almost incredible his hair-breadth escapes and his reckless, dare-devil exploits. The annals of fiction contain nothing more curious and moving than some of his experiences; and in this and the succeeding sketch I propose to indicate the species of daily life which S — lived during the late war. A few words, first, of the scout himself. He certainly was a ranger born. Passionately devoted to his dangerous calling, and following it from predilection, not from any hope of reward, or spurred on by ambition of distinction, he was never so happy as when beating up the quarters of the enemy, and throwing them into confusion by some sudden attack. He was not an officer, and never moved a finger to secure a commission; all he asked was permission to mount his horse, wander off and seek the neighbourhood of the ene
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S-overheard his death-warrant. (search)
How S-overheard his death-warrant. I. In Hunted down, I have attempted to give some idea of scout life on the Rappahannock during the late war. Another narrative of the same description may interest those readers who relish wild adventure; and the present incident will be found more curious than the former. It befell the same personage, S--, one of General Stuart's scouts, and I again beg to warn the worthy reader against regarding these relations as fanciful. Imagination has nothing to do with this one; if it possesses no other merit, I am sure it does possess that of truth. It was told me by the brave man whom it concerns, and I never knew him to boast or exaggerate. The incident took place during the summer of 1863, in the country beyond the Rappahannock, not far from the foot of the Blue Ridge. This region — the county of Fauquier--was the true Paradise of the scout. On its winding and unfrequented roads, and amid its rolling hills and mountain spurs, the scout an
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., On the road to Petersburg: notes of an officer of the C. S. A. (search)
ce something happened to him, he has been quite reckless. He is dead yonder, on the slopes of Hanover, fighting his guns to the last. And that greater figure of Stuart; he has fallen, too! How he would have reigned, the King of Battle, in this hot campaign, clashing against the hosts of Sheridan in desperate conflict! What deas would he have won for himself in this hurly-burly, when the war grows mad and reckless! But those laurels are deathless now, and bloom in perennial splendour! Stuart is dead at the Yellow Tavern yonder, and sleeps at Hollywood; but as the dying Adams said of Jefferson, he still lives --lives in every heart, the greatest of then that same fierce onslaught on the enemy's cavalry, when they tried to enter Richmond by the Brook road, in that sudden attack which saved the capital. I blamed Stuart once for his reckless attack with so small a force as he then had on so large a one as the enemy's, said a most intelligent gentleman of the neighbourhood to me n
, Colonel, there was no excitement in his voice, or indeed any change whatsoever in its grave and courteous tones. A slight flush came to his face, however, a moment afterwards. A shell from the Federal batteries, fired at the group, burst almost upon him, killing a horse near by, and cutting bridle-reins. This brought a decided expression of fight to the old soldier's face, and he probably felt as he did in Culpeper when the disaster of Rappahannock bridge ocurred --when he muttered, General Stuart told me, I should now like to go into a charge! These details may appear trivial. But the demeanour of public men on great occasions is legitimate, and not uninteresting matter for history. General Lee's personal bearing upon this critical occasion, when he saw himself about to be subjected to the greatest humiliation to the pride of a soldier-capture — was admirably noble and serene. It was impossible not to be struck with the grandeur of his appearance — no other phrase describe
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