Incidents of Phillippa.
Headquarters U. S. Volunteers, Grafton, Western Va., Monday, June 10.
Phillippa is almost deserted by the inhabitants.
It was noted as the strongest secession town in Western Virginia.
Before the advent, and speedy pell-mell rout of the rebels, the place had a population of perhaps two thousand.
Scarcely a fourth of that number now remain, while the rest have left their houses standing open, furnished and ready for the accommodation of the loyal troops, and have fled to the mountain passes or to Eastern Virginia.
A few stoutly maintain their former views, and are entitled to credit for a degree of courage, which, if manifested by the rebel troops, would have left that town, a week ago to-day, the scene of fearful slaughter.
Among the number are a couple of pretty and plucky secession girls, who in the very face of three thousand Union troops, flushed with the triumph of easy victory, persist in wearing the rebel rosettes and “secession aprons.”
When the rebels began to run, Col. Lander (of California duelling, grisly-bear and Potter-Prior notoriety) could no longer content himself at his post, on the brow of the hill, with the artillery.
The hill is so steep, that no man in his sane moments would think of riding either down or up it; but down Col. Lander plunged, at a break-neck gallop, leaped a fence at the foot, thundered through the bridge hard on the heels of the charging infantry, and dashed through the streets in advance of the column, to look after the baggage of the flying rebels.
Our forces, and other eye-witnesses of the affair, declare that the rebels were in too great a hurry about taking to their heels to wait for any such perilous ceremony as putting on their clothes.
Hundreds of gallant chivalry, it is positively averred, started off at full gallop, attired in but a single garment.
In fact, “the boys” persist in giving the affair but two names: the one, “The Phillippa Races;” and the other, “The shirt-tail retreat.”
Farmers living half-a-dozen miles or more south of Phillippa, have since come in with the statements that the brave cavaliers came up to their doors begging for pairs of breeches to cover their nakedness; whilst one man insists that their commander, Col. Porterfield, came to his house in precisely the same condition with so many of the rest of them.
Without hazarding an opinion on so delicate a subject, I may remark that one thing is certain — however the brave Colonel may have been arrayed, he didn't take time to put on his uniform, since that, with the epaulettes, cocked hat, and the whole toggery complete, was captured at his Headquarters!
When the rebels got down to Beverly, they were not at all ashamed about running.
They solemnly assured the good people there, that they had been attacked at Phillippa by 20,000 Northern abolitionists, with 20 pieces of artillery; that they had cut their way through at least 10,000 of the enemy to make good their escape, and that even then 30,000 more were marching around by way of Clarksburg to cut off their retreat!
Among the secession flags captured was a very beautiful silk banner which had been presented to a brave secession captain, only the evening before the rout, by some fair secession ladies.
On receiving the flag, the captain had made a gallant speech, assuring the bewitching donors that it should lead him and his company ever to victory or death; that where the battle was thickest, there it should wave; that it should never trail dishonored in the mire; that rather would he spill his life's blood in its defence, and, dying, wrap his body in its gorgeous folds.
When that unmannerly cannon-ball from the Cleveland artillery on the hill came crashing through the camp, this heroic captain forgot all about the flag he had so gallantly received the night before, and led the column — out of danger, as fast as their legs could carry them!
When Captain Ferry of the Indiana Volunteers brought in the flags, this one had evidently been trampled in the mud, and the marks of dirty boots were still on it.
Some of the troops, particularly the Virginians, who were outraged at what they considered the murder of their brave Col. Kelly, in the first flush of victory committed some depredations on the inhabitants.
The colonel commanding has taken prompt measures to redress such grievances, and for a day or two a Court of Inquiry has been sitting on these cases.
One of the first parties to come before this Abolition Court of Inquiry, was the wife of the editor of the Barbour Jeffersonian. She swore that a very valuable saddle had been taken from her husband's stable, and that of her own personal knowledge she know that one of the Abolition troops had taken it; whereupon she modestly begged payment in full (very full) for this saddle of her husband's! To cap the climax, a respectable citizen came in immediately afterwards, and swore that he himself saw one of the secessionists taking this saddle, when preparing for his hasty flight!--N. Y. Express.