s ranks, charged with them, and fell, shot through the heart.
He died where he fell, and sleeps in the weird path of Manassas.
God rest his soul!
Such was the fate of Hardeman Stuart — an event which brought the tears to many eyes, albeit unused to the melting mood-and here my sketch might end. I will add, however, a somewhat curious incident which occurred a day or two after the battle.
General Stuart followed the enemy on Sunday, and coming up with his rear at the bridge over Cub Run, had a slight artillery engagement, and took many prisoners.
The bridge was destroyed and the cavalry turned to the left, and making a circuit came into the Little River turnpike, at the mouth of the Frying Pan road.
Proceeding down the turnpike in the direction of Germantown, a squadron captured a company of the enemy's cavalry; and advancing further to a small tavern on the roadside, took prisoners another company who were feeding their horses in fancied security at the place.