guarded; he heard the sentinel pacing to and fro, and a second at the further extremity. What was to be done? Kill the sentinel by suddenly attacking and seizing his weapon? That, under other circumstances, might have been done; but there was the other sentinel, who would at once give the alarm; then recapture, and a "latter end worse than the first." This plan was thus out of the question. But one hope presented itself. The fugitive could not swim the river; but if by any means he could climb up to the floor of the bridge inside of the sentinel, he might, perhaps, crawl along without being discovered, "flank" the sentinel beyond, and so get back to his friends. Young, lithe, and determined, Lieutenant W -speedily made a reconnoissance of the abutments of the bridge to ascertain the possibility of executing his project. To his great satisfaction he discovered a pipe running from a tank above to the water below-for this was the Orange and Alexandria Railroad bridge; and the rivets securing the pipe to the masonry afforded him an excellent foothold in climbing. Gliding beneath the sentinel in the darkness, he crept into the shadow, grasped the pipe, and, with hands and knees, climbed foot by foot up the abutment, until he had reached the edge of the floor-way. His hands were torn and his knees lacerated, but he had taken another step toward liberty.

What now remained to be done was to crawl along the narrow edge of the parapet, under shadow of a species of low railing, and crossing the bridge, pass around the other sentinel in some manner, and escape. This, however, was the most doubtful, as it was certainly the most dangerous portion of the adventure. The bridge was very lofty, the ledge narrow, slippery, and unprotected for he must move outside of the railing for fear of discovery; a single false step would precipitate him into the river beneath. Even if this danger were avoided, there was the sentinel beyond, and a picket, doubtless, beyond the sentinel. Lieutenant Wrevolving in his mind these various circumstances, and had begun to take a rather discouraging view of things, when his attention was attracted by the sound of steps coming from the direction of the Federal camp. A detachment of dismounted men were evidently approaching the bridge, and in a few moments the

was

voice of the sentinel was heard giving the challenge. "Relief," was the reply; and then came, "Advance relief!" which was immediately followed by the appearance of the relief-guard. The new sentinel was relieved from his post, and took his place among the guard, one of whom was posted, and the detachment was heard tramping across the bridge to relieve in the same manner the other sentinels. As they came on, tramp! tramp! like the statue of the commander in "Don Giovanni," the young Virginian conceived an idea as bold as it was original. It was difficult to crawl along the narrow ledge without falling into the black gulf below, and it was questionable whether any friendly water-pipe would enable him to "flank" the sentinel at the opposite extremity of the bridge. Why not " fall in " in the darkness with the unsuspecting detachment, pass through the guard beyond, and then take the chances of making his escape? His resolution was at once taken; and as the guard came opposite his place of concealment behind the low wood-work of the railing, he crouched lower, waited until they had passed, and then quietly stepping over the railing, fell in bebind. The movement had been undiscovered; he was now advancing with measured step to "assist," as the French say, at relieving the "Old Guard" on the bridges-himself as honorary member of the relief.

His ruse was crowned with complete success. He passed with the detachment undiscovered to a point beyond the bridge; and then stepping from the ranks-a manoeuvre which the pitch darkness rendered by no means difficult-he concealed himself until the unsuspecting Federals disappeared. He then crawled on his hands and knees, crouching close to the ground by another picket which he saw upon the road, and reaching a point where he believed himself beyond range, rose to his feet and commenced moving. All at once he saw before him another picketfire; and not knowing whether it was that of friends or enemies, he again crouched down and slowly approached the fire, crawling upon his chest along the surface of the ground.

He had succeeded too well up to this time to risk anything; and he accordingly continued to "snake along" toward the fire, in order to discover, before making himself known, whether the

ground around it were friends or enemies. In this slow and cautious manner he approached until he was within ten yards of it; where, hidden behind a stump, he attentively reconnoitred. The result was indecisive. He could not possibly succeed in discovering whether the pickets were Federal or Confederate; and in relating his adventure afterwards, Lieutenant W declared that his heart now throbbed with greater anxiety than at any other time during the whole affair. He continued for some time thus crouching behind the stump, and his doubt was painful and protracted. At last it came to an end; he breathed freely again. One of the men rose from the ground, yawned, and said: "I don't believe there will be a Yankee on this side. of the river by the morning."

Whereupon Lieutenant W rose up, approached the fire, and, with a laugh, made himself known, to the profound astonishment and confusion of the sleepy pickets, who had thus received a practical illustration of the ease with which an enemy might approach and send a bullet through their hearts. They, however, received Lieutenant W- with military hospitality, gave him a portion of their rations, divided their blankets; and overcome with fatigue, he lay down and slept until daylight. Before sunrise he was at General Stuart's headquarters, and was relating his curious adventure, to the huge amusement of the laughing cavalier. He was without horse, arms, or other clothes than those which he wore; but he was free, and he had his spurs, carried throughout against his naked breast.

Such was the adventure of Lieutenant W-, and such the means he used in making his escape. The narrative may appear romantic, but I assure the reader that it is literally true.

VII.

TO GETTYSBURG AND BACK AGAIN.

"Ho! for the Valley!"

I.

This was the somewhat dramatic exclamation of Major-General J. E. B. Stuart, about the 24th of June, 1863, as he got into the saddle at the little village of Rector's Cross-Roads, between Middleburg and Upperville, and turned his horse's head westward toward the Blue Ridge mountains.

If the worthy reader will return in memory to that epoch, and recall the route which the gay cavalier speedily directed his column over, the words above quoted will appear somewhat mysterious. "The situation" at the moment may be described in a very few words; for the full record, see the "historian of the future." After the crushing defeat of Chancellorsville, General Hooker cut behind him the pontoons covered with pine boughs, to deaden the noise of his artillery wheels in crossing, and took up a strong position on the northern bank of the Rappahannock to repulse the expected onslaught of his great adversary, Lee. No such attack, however, was intended. Lee preferred to manoeuvre his opponent out of Virginia-it was the more bloodless proceeding-and very soon the soldiers of the army understood that "Lee was moving."

A grand review of the cavalry was ordered, near Culpeper Court-House, and General Fitz Lee politely sent an invitation to General Hood to attend it, and "bring any of his friends." A day or two afterwards, Hood appeared with his great division,

announcing that these were all "his friends," and he thought he would bring them along. The review duly took place east of the Court-House. The squadrons of cavalry charged-General Stuart and his staff in front; cannon thundered in mimic conflict; the sun shone; bright eyes flashed; and beneath the Confederate banner, rippling on its lofty pole, the Commanderin-Chief sat his iron-gray, looking on. Festivities at the CourtHouse followed; the youngsters of the army had a gay dance with the young ladies from the country round; and almost in the midst of the revelry, as at Brussels on the night of Waterloo, the thunder of artillery was heard from the direction of Fleetwood Hill, near Brandy. In fact, Stuart had been assailed there by the élite of the Federal infantry and cavalry, under some of their ablest commanders-the object of the enemy being to ascertain, by reconnoissance in force, what all the hubbub of the review signified-and throughout the long June day, they threw themselves, with desperate gallantry, against the Southern horse-no infantry on our side taking part in the action. Colonel Williams was killed; Captain Farley, of Stuart's staff, was killed; Captain White, of the staff, too, was wounded; Colonel Butler was wounded; General W. H. F. Lee was shot down at the head of his charging column; and Stuart himself was more than once completely surrounded. For three hours the battle was "touch and go;" but thanks to the daring charges of Young and Lee, the enemy were driven; they slowly and sullenly retired, leaving the ground strewed with their dead, and at nightfall were again beyond the Rappahannock.

The trumpet of battle had thus been sounded; action followed. Lee put his columns in motion for Pennsylvania; Stuart advanced with his cavalry to hold the country east of the Blue Ridge, and guard the passes as the long column moved through; and then commenced a war of the giants between the opposing horse of the Federal and Confederate armies. It was a matter of grave importance that Hooker should undo the designs of Lee; and mighty efforts were made to burst through the cavalry cordon, and strike the flank of the moving army. Stuart was, however, in the way. On all the roads was his omnipresent