The Daily Dispatch: August 13, 1863., [Electronic resource]

Anecdote of Mosey.

‘ At a town, which shall be nameless, that we passed through, I was told the following circumstance about Mosby, which, as it has never found its way into print, I think worth giving, as illustrative of the bold and reckless audacity of the man. A squad of Northern cavalry got on the track of him and his men, pursued him into the village, captured some of his men, and hoped to take him captive. Guards were placed at the entrance of every street, and the search for Mosby began — a search up stairs, down stairs, in garret, in cellar, in beds, under beds, in closets, wardrobes, and every imaginable cuddy-hole big enough to hold a man. Mosby was not to be found. In quick time he had changed his military dress for the coarse spun habiliments of a non-combatant, and, while the search was progressing, passed for one of the curious throng of street lookers on. He took ninety-nine chances out of a hundred of being captured, and fortune favored him, as it always does the brave. It is this bravery and this good fortune that make him and his exploits the theme of every tongue, and particularly tongues feminine, which, when they get to wagging about him, wag with a sneering fanciness, a vindictive exultation, indicating that the extent of their joy is only surpassed by one thing — the unending prolongation of their tongues.

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