left him to finish his business and escape before daylight. If morning found him anywhere in that vicinity he knew that his retreat would be cut off, and the whole party killed or captured -and this would have spoiled the whole affair. He accordingly made his dispositions rapidly, enjoined complete silence, and set to work in earnest. The small band was divided into detachments, with special duties assigned to each. Two or three of these detachments were sent to the public stables which the fine horses of the General and his staff officers occupied, with instructions to carry them off without noise. Another party was sent to Colonel Wyndham's headquarters to take him prisoner. Another to Colonel Johnson's, with similar orders.

Taking six men with him, Captain Mosby, who proceeded upon sure information, went straight to the headquarters of Brigadier-General Stoughton.

The Captain entered his chamber without much ceremony, and found him asleep in bed.

Making his way toward the bed, in the dark, the partisan shook him suddenly by the shoulder.

"What is that?" growled 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?"

cer.

"Did you ever hear of Mosby?"

"Yes! Tell me, have you caught the rascal!"

"No, but he has caught you

And the Captain chuckled.

י !

"What does all this mean, sir!" cried the furious offi

"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 horses, with their accoutrements, all belonging to officers, and took a number of prisoners. Hundreds of horses were left, for fear of encumbering the retreat.

The other parties were less successful. Colonel Wyndham had gone down to Washington on the preceding day; but his A. A. General and Aide-de-camp were made prisoners. Colonel Johnson having received notice of the presence of the party, succeeded in making his escape.

It was now about half-past three in the morning, and it be hoved Captain Mosby, unless he relished being killed or captured, to effect his retreat. Time was barely left him to get out of the lines of the enemy before daylight, and none was to be

lost.

He had intended to destroy the valuable quartermaster, commissary, and sutler's stores in the place, but these were found to be in the houses, which it would have been necessary to burn; and even had the proceeding been advisable, time was wanting. The band was encumbered by three times as many horses and prisoners as it numbered men, and day was approaching. The captain accordingly made his dispositions rapidly for retiring.

The prisoners, thirty-five in number, were as follows:
Brig.-Gen. E. H. Stoughton.

Baron R. Wordener, an Austrian, and Aide-de-camp to Col. Wyndham.

Capt. A. Barker, 5th New York Cavalry.

Col. Wyndham's A. A. General.

Thirty prisoners, chiefly of the 18th Pennsylvania and 1st Ohio Cavalry, and the telegraph operator at the place.

These were placed upon the captured horses, and the band set out in silence on their return.

Captain Mosby took the same road which had conducted him into the Court-H use: that which led to Fairfax Station. But this was only to deceive the enemy as to his line of retreat, if

they attempted pursuit. He soon turned off, and pursued the same road which he had followed in advancing, coming out on the Warrenton turnpike, about a mile and a half from the town. This time, finding no guards on the main road, he continued to follow the turnpike until he came to the belt of woods which crosses the road about half a mile from Centreville. At this point of the march, one of the prisoners, Captain Barker, no doubt counting on aid from the garrison, made a desperate effort to effect his escape. He broke from his guards, dashed out of the ranks, and tried hard to reach the fort. He was stopped, however, by a shot from one of the party, and returned again, yielding himself a prisoner.

Again turning to the right, the Captain proceeded on his way, passing directly beneath the frowning fortifications. He passed so near them that he distinctly saw the bristling muzzles of the cannon in the embrasures, and was challenged by the sentinel on the redoubt. Making no reply he pushed on rapidly, for the day was dawning, and no time was to be lost; passed within a hundred yards of the infantry pickets without molestation, swam Cub Run, and again came out on the Warrenton turnpike at Groveton.

He had passed through all his enemies, flanked Centreville, was on the open road to the South: he was safe!

IV.

MY FRIEND LIEUTENANT BUMPO.

YESTERDAY I received a letter from my friend Lieutenant N. Bumpo, Artillery Corps, P. A. C. S. To-day I have been thinking of the career of this young gentleman from the outset of the war.

"Representative men are profitable subjects for reflection. They embody in their single persons, the characteristics of whole classes.

Bumpo is a representative man.

He represents the Virginia youth who would not stay at home, in spite of every attempt to induce him to do so; who, shoul dering his musket, marched away to the wars; who has put his life upon the hazard of the die a thousand times, and intends to go on doing so to the end.

I propose to draw an outline of Lieutenant Bumpo. The sketch shall be accurate; so accurate that he will be handed down to future generations-even as he lived and moved during the years of the great revolution. His grandchildren shall thus know all about their at present prospective grandpa--and all his descendants shall honour him. His portrait over the mantelpiece shall be admiringly indicated, uno digito. The antique cut of his uniform shall excite laughter. Bumpo will live in every heart and memory!

He is now seventeen and a half. Tall for his age; gay, smiling; fond of smoking, laughing, and "fun" generally. I have said that he is an officer of the Artillery Corps, at present-but he has been in the infantry and the cavalry.

He was born in the Valley of Virginia, and spent his youth in warring on partridges. His aim thus early became unerring. When the war broke out it found him a boy of some fifteen and a half-loving all mankind, except the sons of the famous "Pilgrim Fathers." Upon this subject Bumpo absorbed the views of his ancestors.

April, 1861, arrived duly. Bumpo was in the ranks with a rifle. Much remonstrance and entreaty saluted this proceeding, but Private Bumpo, of the "Rifles," remained obstinate. แ "Young?" Why he was FIFTEEN!

"The seed corn should be kept?" But suppose there was no Southern soil to plant it in?

"A mere boy?"-Boy !!!

And Private Bumpo stalked off with his rifle on his shoulder -outraged as Coriolanus, who, after having "fluttered the Volsces in Corioli," was greeted with the same opprobrious epithet.

Obstinacy is not a praiseworthy sentiment in youth, but I think that young Bumpo was right. He would have died of chagrin at home, with his comrades in the service; or his pride and spirit of haute noblesse would have all departed. It was better to run the risk of being killed.

So Bumpo marched.

He marched to Harper's Ferry-and thenceforth "Forwardmarch!" was the motto of his youthful existence.

Hungry?" Forward, march!"

Cold?" Forward, march!"
Tired?" Forward, march !"

Bumpo continued thenceforth to march. When not marching he was fighting.

The officer who commanded his brigade was a certain Colonel Jackson, afterwards known popularly as "Old Stonewall." This officer could not bear Yankees, and this tallied exactly with Private Bumpo's views. He deeply sympathized with the sentiments of his illustrious leader, and loaded and fired with astonishing rapidity and animation. At "Falling Water" he "fought and fell back." Thereafter he marched back and forth, and was on the Potomac often. A slight historic anecdote re