University of Virginia Library

XI.
LONGBOW'S HORSE.

1. I.

My friend, Captain Longbow, is a very different personage from
Captain Darrell. The latter is brave, honest, simple, and candid.
He relates only what really occurred, and never unless you overcome
his repugnance to such narratives: he is modest, retiring—
the model of an officer and a gentleman.

Longbow is a striking contrast, I am sorry to say, to all this.
He is a tremendous warrior—according to his own account; he
has performed prodigies—if you can only believe him; more
moving accidents and hair breadth escapes have happened to
him than to any other soldier in the service—if they have only
happened. The element of confidence is thus wanting in the
listener when Longbow discourses, and you are puzzled how
much to believe, how much to disbelieve. But then the worthy
is often amusing. He has some of the art of the raconteur, and
makes his histories or stories, his real events or his fibs, to a
certain degree amusing. I am always at a loss to determine how
much of Longbow's narratives to believe; but they generally
make me laugh. It is certain that he mingles truth with them,
for many incidents related by him, in the course of his narratives,
are known to me as real circumstances; and thus there ever
remains upon the mind, when this worthy has ceased speaking,
an impression that although the narrative is fabulous, portions
of it are true.

These prefatory words are intended to introduce the following
account of Longbow's adventures in the Valley, when General
Johnston was opposed to General Patterson there, in the summer
of 1861, just before the battle of Manassas. Some of the incidents
related I know to be true; others, it is proper that I should
warn the reader, I regard as purely romantic. The manner in
which Longbow professed to have obtained his “blood bay” I
believe to be imaginary; the untimely end to which the animal
came may not, doubtless is not, of historical verity, but it is certain
that an officer did kill his horse under the circumstances
narrated. Thus the mind is left in a state of bewilderment as to
how much is true and how much is false in the worthy's story;
and perhaps the safest proceeding would be to set down the
whole as an “historical romance.”

I have thought it best to convey this caution to the reader,
lest the narrative here given might cast discredit upon the other
papers in these “Outlines,” which contain, with the exception of
“Corporal Shabrach” and “Blunderbus,” events and details of
strict historical accuracy.

I have never told you, said Longbow, of the curious adventures
which I met with in the Valley in 1861, and how I got my
fine blood bay, and lost him. I was then a private, but had
just been detailed as volunteer aide to Colonel Jackson—he was
not “General” or “Stonewall” yet—and had reported a few
days before the engagement at Falling Waters.

I need not inform you of the state of affairs at that time,
further than to say that while Beauregard watched the enemy in
front of Washington, with his headquarters at Manassas, Johnston
held the Valley against Patterson, with his headquarters at Winchester.
Well, it was late in June, I think, when intelligence
came that General Patterson was about to cross the Potomac at
Williamsport, and Colonel Jackson was sent forward with the
First Brigade, as it was then called, to support Stuart's cavalry,
and feel the enemy, but not bring on a general engagement.
This, the Colonel proceeded to do with alacrity, and he had soon
advanced north of Martinsburg, and camped near the little village

of Hainesville—Stuart continuing in front watching the
enemy on the river.

This was the state of things, when suddenly one morning we
were aroused by the intelligence that Patterson had crossed his
army; and Jackson immediately got his brigade under arms,
intending to advance and attack him. He determined, however,
to move forward first, with one regiment and a single gun—and
this he did, the regiment being the Fifth Virginia, Colonel
Harper, with one piece from Pendleton's battery.

I will not stop here to describe the short and gallant fight near
Falling Water, in which Jackson met the enemy with the same
obstinacy which afterwards gave him his name of “Stonewall.”
Their great force, however, rendered it impossible for him to
hold his ground with one regiment of less than four hundred
men, and finding that he was being outflanked, he gave the order
for his line to fall back, which was done in perfect order. It
was at this moment that Colonel Jackson pointed out a cloud of
dust to me on the left, and said:

“That is cavalry. They are moving to attack my left flank.
Where is Stuart? Can you find him?”

“I think so, Colonel.”

“Well, present my compliments to him, and tell him that the
enemy's cavalry will probably attack him. Lose no time,
Captain.”

I obeyed at once, and passing across the line of fire, as the
men fell back fighting, entered a clump of woods, and took a
narrow road, which led in the direction I wished.

My fortune was bad. I had scarcely galloped a quarter of a
mile when I ran full tilt into a column of Federal cavalry, and
suddenly heard their unceremonious “halt!”

Wheeling round, I dug the spurs into my horse, and darted
into the woods, but I was too late. A volley came from the
column; my horse suddenly staggered, and advancing a few
steps, fell under me. A bullet had penetrated his body behind
my knee, and I had scarcely time to extricate myself, when I
was surrounded. I was forced to surrender, and did so to a
gray-haired officer who came up a moment afterwards.

He saluted me, and seeing my rank from my uniform, said:

“I hope you are not hurt, Captain?”

“No, sir,” I said angrily; “and if my horse had not fallen,
you would never have captured me.”

The old officer smiled.

“When you are as old a soldier as I am, sir,” he replied,
“you will not suffer these accidents to move you so much. Are
you a line or staff officer?”

“A staff officer.”

“Who commands yonder?”

“The ranking officer.”

Another smile came to his face.

“I see you are prudent. Well, sir. I will not annoy you.
Take this officer to the rear,” he added to a subaltern; “treat
him well, but guard him carefully.”

The column continued its advance, and I was conducted to the
rear. I heard the firing gradually recede toward Martinsburg,
and knew that Jackson must be still falling back. Skirmishing
on the right of the column I moved with, indicated the presence
of Stuart; but this too gradually receded, and soon word was
passed along the line that the Colonel had received intelligence
of the Confederates having retreated. This announcement was
greeted with a cheer by the men, and the column continued to
advance, but soon halted.

That night I bivouacked by a camp fire, and on the next
morning was conducted into Martinsburg, which the enemy had
occupied in force.

I was on foot, and of course had been deprived of my arms.

I was placed in a house under guard, with some other Confederate
prisoners, and could only learn from the Federal Corporal
that our forces had fallen back, south of the town, losing
“a tremendous amount of stores, wagons, tents, commissary and
quartermaster stores, and all they had.” I laughed, in spite of
myself, at this magniloquent statement, knowing in what
“light marching order” Jackson had been, and resolved philosophically
to await the progress of events.

The day thus passed, and on the next morning I was aroused

from my bed upon the floor by a thundering salvo of artillery.
I started up joyfully, fully convinced that Jackson was attacking
the town, when the Corporal came in, and cried:

“Hurrah for the glorious Fourth!”

“Fourth what?” I said.

“Why, Fourth of July!”

“Oh, that is the cause of the firing, is it?” I growled; “then
I'll finish my nap.”

And I again lay down. Soon afterwards a breakfast of “hard
tack,” pork, and coffee, was supplied to the prisoners, and I had
just finished my meal when I was informed that General Patterson
had sent for me. Fifteen minutes afterwards I was conducted
through the streets, swarming with blue-coats, galloping cavalry,
and wagons, to a fine mansion in the southern suburbs of the
town, where the commanding General had established his headquarters—Colonel
Falkner's.

Here all was life and bustle; splendidly caparisoned horses,
held by orderlies, were pawing the turf of the ornamented
grounds; other orderlies were going and coming; and the impression
produced upon my mind was, that the orderly was an
established institution. At the door was a sentinel with a musket,
and having passed this Cerberus, my guard conducted me to
an apartment on the left, where I was received by a staff officer,
whose scowling hauteur was exceedingly offensive.

“Who are you?” he growled, looking at me in the most insolent
manner.

“Who are you?” was my response, in a tone equally friendly.

“I will have no insolence,” was his enraged reply. “Are
you the prisoner sent for by the General?”

“I am, sir,” was my reply; “and I shall ascertain from General
Patterson whether it is by his order that an officer of the Confederate
States Army is subjected to your rudeness and insults.”

He must have been a poor creature; for as soon as he found
that I would not endure his brow-beating he became polite, and
went to announce my arrival.

I was left alone in the ante-room with an officer, who wrote
so busily at his desk that he seemed not to have even been

aware of any one's presence; and this busy gentleman I afterwards
discovered was General Patterson's Adjutant-General.

2. II.

I waited for half an hour, when I was informed that General
Patterson was ready to see me. I found him seated at a table
covered with papers, which stood in the middle of a large apartment
filled with elegant furniture, and ornamented with a fine
Brussels carpet. On the mantel-piece a marble clock ticked; in
Gothic bookeases were long rows of richly bound volumes; the
Federal commander had evidently selected his headquarters with
an eye to comfort and convenience.

He was a person of good figure and agreeable countenance;
and wore the full-dress uniform of a Major-General of the U. S.
Army. As I entered he rose, advanced a step, and offered me
his hand.

“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Captain,” he said;
then he added with a smile, “I doubt, however, if you are
equally pleased at making mine.”

“Delighted, General, I assure you,” was my reply, “though
the incident to which I am indebted for this honour was rather
rough.”

“What was that?”

“My horse was shot and fell with me.”

“That is a pity, and the thing was unfortunate. But war is
altogether a rough business. I am disposed to agree with Franklin,
Captain, that `there never was a good war, or a bad peace.'
But we will not discuss this vexed question—you are Captain
Longbow, I believe.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Of Colonel Jackson's command?”

“Of the command which engaged you the day before yesterday.”

General Patterson smiled.

“I see you are reticent, and it is a good habit in a soldier.

But I know that Colonel Jackson commanded, and from his boldness
in opposing me with so small a force, he must be a man of
nerve and ability.”

“He has that reputation, General.”

“Do you know General Johnston?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am afraid of his retreats. General Scott declares that one
of them is equal to a victory.”

I assented with a bow.

“Colonel Stuart, commanding your cavalry, I do not know,”
continued the General, “but I am afraid he gobbled up one of
my companies of infantry just before the late fight. That makes
the number of prisoners taken considerably in your favour.
The company was commanded, however, only by a Second Lieutenant,
and as I have you, Captain,” he added with a smile, “the
odds are not so great.

The General's courtesy and good-humour began to put me in
the same mood, and I said:

“How long are you going to keep me, General? not long, I
hope.”

“Not a day after I can have an exchange.”

“That may, however, be for a long time.”

“Possibly, but you shall be well treated, Captain.”

“I have no doubt of that, General, but you know the proverb,
or what ought to be a proverb—`to the exile honey itself is
bitter.' Well, it is the same with prisoners.”

“You shall not be confined. I will take your parole, and you
can then have the freedom of the town of Martinsburg. Winchester,
too, if you wish.”

“I am very much obliged to you, especially for Winchester,
General—but I cannot accept.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am going to try to escape.”

The General began to laugh.

“You will find it impossible,” he replied; “even if you eluded
the sentinel you could not get through my lines. The pickets
would stop you.”

“General,” I said, “you are really so very courteous, and our
interview is so completely divested of all formality, that I am
tempted to presume upon it.”

“In what manner?”

“By offering to make you a bet.”

“A bet! Well, what is it?” said the General, laughing.

“This. My horse was killed, and as we poor Confederates are
not over rich, I will lay you a horse and equipments that I make
my escape.”

The General greeted this proposal with evident enjoyment.

“In what time?” he asked.

“Before you reach Richmond.”

He made a humorous grimace.

“Richmond is a long way off, Captain—let the limit be the
1st day of August, and I will agree.”

“Very well, General; I will pay my bet if I lose; and if I win,
you will send me my horse through the lines.”

“Most assuredly.”

At this moment an orderly brought in a dispatch, which the
General read with attention.

“From the front,” he said. “Jackson is at Darkesville, Captain,
and is preparing to make a stand there.”

“And you will attack, I suppose, in a day or two, General?”

These words were greeted with a quick glance, to which I responded
innocently:

“As I have no chance to escape in that time, you could reply
without an indiscretion, could you not, General?”

“Caution is never amiss, my dear Captain,” he replied; “I pay
you a compliment in imitating your own reticence. But here is
another dispatch. Excuse me while I read it.”

The contents of the paper seemed to be important; for the
General turned to his table, and began to write busily. His back
was turned to me, and seeing a newspaper lying in the antechamber,
I rose and went to procure it.

“You are not leaving me, Captain?” the General called out,
without turning round.

“Is it forbidden to go into the ante-room, General?”

“Not at all—you can't escape, as my sentinel is too good a
soldier to permit an officer in Confederate uniform to pass!”

And he went on writing.

His words operated upon my mind like a challenge; and at
the same moment my eye fell upon two objects, the sight of
which thrilled through every nerve. These objects were simply a
light linen overall lying upon a chair, and on a table the tall
blue hat of the Adjutant-General, encircled with its golden cord.
At the same instant a shrill neigh attracted my attention to the
grounds without; and looking through the window, I saw an
orderly holding a magnificent horse, from which an officer had
just descended.

In one instant I had formed an audacious resolution; and sitting
down at a table upon which were pen, ink, and paper, I
wrote:

“Captain Longbow presents his compliments to General Patterson,
and informs him that he is about to make an attempt to
win the bet just made. There is an excellent horse now at the
door, which has only to be secured in case Captain Longbow
can pass the sentinel—when his escape will not be difficult in spite
of the pickets.

“Headquarters of General Patterson, July 4, 1861.”

I had just placed this note in an envelope, and directed it to
“Major-General Patterson, com'd'g, etc,” when the Adjutant-General
turned his head, and said courteously:

“Are you writing a letter, Captain?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“To send through the lines, I suppose. If you give me your
word of honour that it contains only private matter, and nothing
contraband, I will forward it unread by the first flag of truce.”

I paused a moment, and then made up my mind.

“It is not to go through the lines,” I said; “it is addressed to
General Patterson.”

“Ah!” said the officer.

“Yes, sir. It refers to a subject upon which the General and
myself were conversing when we were interrupted. I do not

wish to trouble him further at present, as he seems busy; but if
you will have the goodness to hand it to him this evening or to-morrow,
I will be greatly indebted to you.”

“I will do so with pleasure, Captain,” said this most courteous
of enemies; and taking the note, he placed it in one of the pigeonholes
of his desk.

At the same moment the officer who had dismounted from the
fine horse was introduced, and soon afterwards my pulse leaped.
The voice of General Patterson was heard calling his Adjutant-General;
and that officer hastened to the inner room, closing the
door after him.

3. III.

I did not lose an instant. Seizing the light linen overall, I put
it on and buttoned it up to the chin, as though to guard my
uniform from the dust; and throwing my brown felt hat under
the table, placed upon my head the high-crowned blue one, with
its golden cord and tassel. I then opened the outer door; negligently
returned the salute of the sentinel, who came to a “present”
with his musket at sight of my cord and tassel; and
walked out to the gate, which was set in a low hedge, above
which appeared the head of the splendid animal I had determined
to “capture.”

Every instant now counted. My ruse might at any moment
be discovered; for on the Adjutant General's return to his room,
he must observe my absence. It was necessary to act rapidly,
and with decision.

Strolling with a careless air to the spot where the orderly
stood, holding his own and the officer's bridle, I patted the
horse on the neck, and said:

“That is a fine animal.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the orderly, touching his hat to the Adjutant-General's
hat; “the Colonel paid six hundred dollars for him
only last week.”

“Excellent equipments, too,” and I raised up the flap of one
of the holsters, which contained a pair of silver-mounted pistols.

In an instant I had drawn one of the weapons, cocked it, and
placed it at the orderly's head.

“I am a Confederate prisouer, determined to escape or die,”
I said. “If you move I will blow your brains out. Wait until I
get a fair start, and then tell your Colonel I took his horse by
force!”

With one bound I was in the saddle, and turning the horse's
head to the fence on the south of the house, cleared it, and set
out at full speed for a wood near by. As I did so, I saw a sudden
tumult, and crowds running about at the house, among
whom I recognised the Adjutant-General.

“Good-by, Major,” I called out; “I will send your hat and
coat by flag of truce!”

And in a moment I had gained the clump of woods, and was
out of sight.

My captured horse was an animal of superb action, and I soon
found that I must make him show his points. As I looked
over my shoulder, I saw a company of cavalry—evidently the
body-guard of the General, whose horses always remained saddled—leave
the town, and follow furiously upon my track.

Between these and the pickets which would certainly bar my
passage, I seemed to stand little chance; but it was worth the
trial, and I went on at full speed, keeping as much as possible
in the woods. Stopping for nothing in the shape of a fence, I
made straight across the country, and gradually seemed distancing
my pursuers. What words, however, can describe my mortification
when, issuing from a dense covert, I found they had
followed by a parallel road, and were on my very heels! I
heard the tramp of their horses, and the quick shout they gave
as they caught sight of me.

Then commenced on the narrow wood road what is called a
“stern chase” at sea. It was a question of the speed of our
horses; but I found, unfortunately, that my pursuers were as
well mounted as myself. They were steadily gaining on me,
when I ran straight into a regiment of infantry, who had pitched
their small tents de l'arbre, under the trees. The quarter-guard,
however, made no effort to stop me, and I shot past the camp,

but in four hundred yards came in sight of the cavalry
pickets.

It was now “neck or nothing.” I had to ride through or
over every obstacle in my way, or surrender. The picket consisted
of about a company of cavalry, every man standing by his
horse; and as I approached, the officer came out, evidently supposing
that I brought him some important message.

The officer staggered back, nearly knocked down by my
horse; and I passed on, followed by a quick volley which did
not harm me. I knew now that if once I could pass the external
pickets, my escape would be certain; and all at once I came
on them. The picket consisted of four or five mounted men; and
as I approached, the vidette in the middle of the road ordered
me to halt, presenting his carbine. I drew my revolver and
fired, and at the same moment he discharged his carbine, but
missed me.

I do not know whether I struck him or not. I went past
him, and did not look back to see. Suddenly the whole picket
fired, and the bullets hissed close to me; but not one touched me
or my horse, and I was free! In ten minutes I was out of sight,
and in five minutes more saw the Confederate pickets in front
of me.

They received me rather roughly. The vidette fired on me
and then ran, and I followed him. A hundred yards further I
drove in the whole external picket, which retired firing.

The first person I saw near the “Big Spring” was Colonel
Stuart, with his cavalry drawn up in line of battle. As soon as
he recognised me he burst into laughter, and cried: “Ho, ho!
here's Longbow in a Yankee uniform!”

“Exactly, Colonel.”

“Where are you from?”

“Martinsburg—driving in your pickets on the way.”

“No wonder,” laughed Stuart. “Your appearance is enough
to frighten a whole brigade. I hope my pickets fired on you
before they ran.”

“Furiously, Colonel, as the enemy were doing behind.”

“But how did you escape? I was truly sorry to hear from

Jackson that you had ridden to look for me, and never turned
up afterwards.”

I briefly related my adventures, and offered my horse, hat, and
pistols in proof. Stuart listened, laughing heartily, and when I
had finished, said:

“So all that firing was only a Fourth of July salute! I thought
so, but never take anything on trust; so I've been ready all
the morning, and thought when the picket fired that you were
the enemy.”

Soon afterwards I parted from this great soldier; and riding
on, found Jackson at Darkesville, to whom I reported, receiving
his congratulations upon my escape.

But I must hasten on and tell you about my horse.

4. IV.

A few days afterwards I was at General Johnston's headquarters,
and ascertaining that he was about to send a flag through
the lines, thought it a good opportunity to return the Adjutant-General's
hat and coat. I therefore rolled up these articles, and
wrote a note to accompany them, thanking the Major for the use
of them, and begging him to excuse the little liberty I had taken
in appropriating them.

I went with the flag; and when the business of the interview
was transacted, gave the hat, coat, and note, to the Federal officer
who met us, and who was a gentleman of good-sense and breeding.
He laughed when I explained how I had procured the articles,
and informed me that he had already heard the story.

“I even heard there was a bet between you and General Patterson,”
he said. “Is that the fact, Captain? and what was the
amount?”

“It was not money, but a horse and equipments, which the
General has lost.”

“Then he will certainly pay, and he has some very fine
horses.”

“I am afraid he has forgotten me.”

“On the contrary, he has remembered you, Captain,” said the
officer, smiling; and at a sign from him a mounted man led forward
a beautiful bay, splendidly equipped, which every member
of the party had been looking at and admiring.

“The General requested me to send this horse to you, Captain,”
said the officer; “but as you are present, I deliver him in
person. He is a splendid animal, and I only hope I shall soon
have the pleasure of capturing you, and getting him into my
own possession.”

Everybody began to laugh, and admire my horse. I mounted
and put him at a fence, which he went over like a deer.

“Thank the General for me, Major; his horse is excellent,” I
said.

“I will do so with pleasure; this is really the poetry of war!”

And saluting each other, the two parties separated.

I have thus told you how I got my fine blood bay. He was
a magnificent animal. I will next proceed to inform you how I
lost him.

Two days afterwards I was riding out with Colonel Jackson,
when General Johnston, wholly unattended, met him, and the
two officers rode on, in earnest conversation, pointing as they
did so to the various hills and knolls which afforded good positions
for troops. I had fallen back some distance to allow them
to converse without reserve, when all at once I saw General
Johnston turn and look at me; then Jackson beckoned to me.
I rode up and saluted the General, who gravely returned the
bow, and said:

“Captain, I have determined to send you to Manassas with a
dispatch to General Beauregard, which I wish delivered at once.
The dispatch will be ready in two hours from this time, and I
would like to have you set off at once. Can you do so?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied; “this moment, if necessary.”

“Very good; ride back with me to headquarters, and I will
give you a message also.”

I followed the General back to Darkesville, waited an hour,
and then was sent for, and received the dispatch and instructions.
On the same night I set out on my bay horse, and by

morning was at General Beauregard's headquarters, and had
delivered the dispatch. An hour afterwards I was sound asleep.

I was waked by the clatter of hoofs, and rising, found couriers
going and coming.

“What is the matter?” I asked of an orderly.

“The Yankees are coming,” he replied, “and they are already
near Fairfax Court-house.”

I immediately hurried to General Beauregard, and found him
about to mount and ride out on the lines. At sight of me, he
exclaimed—

“Good! I was just about to send for you, Captain. The
enemy are upon us, and I wish General Johnston to know that
if he desires to help me, now is the time.”

“I will carry the message, General.”

“Will your horse hold out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, tell General Johnston the condition of things here. A
very large force of the enemy are within a few miles of me, and
are still advancing. Say to the General simply this—that if he
wishes to help me, now is the time.”

With these words General Beauregard saluted me, and rode on.
I immediately called for my lorse, mounted, and set off at a
rapid gallop for the Valley.

General Patterson's present was now destined to be subjected
to a hard trial. I had already ridden him nearly fifty miles
within the last twenty-four hours, and was about to pass over the
very same ground almost without allowing him any rest.

I galloped on toward Thoroughfare. My bay moved splendidly,
and did not seem at all fatigued. He was moving with
head up, and pulling at the rein.

“Good! my gallant bay!” I said; “if you go on at that rate
we'll soon be there!”

I had not counted on the heat of the July weather, however;
and when I got near Salem my bay began to flag a little. I
pushed him with the spur, and hurried on. Near Paris he began
to wheeze; but I pushed on, using the spur freely, and drove him
up the mountain road, and along the gap to the river. This we

forded, and in the midst of the terrible heat I hurried on over
the turnpike.

My bay had begun to pant and stagger at times; but there
was no time to think of his condition. I had undertaken to
deliver General Beauregard's message; and I must do so, on
horseback or on foot, without loss of time. I dug the spur into
my panting animal and rushed on.

At Millwood some citizens gathered in the middle of the street
to ask the news. I continued the gallop without stopping, and
in an hour approached Winchester, where Johnston had established
his general headquarters.

Beyond the Opequon my bay staggered, blood rushed from
his nostrils, and his eyes glared; as I neared the town the spur
scarcely raised him; from his chest issued a hollow groan.

All at once an officer, followed by some couriers, appeared at
a turn of the road, and I recognised General Johnston.

In an instant I was at his side, and had delivered my message.

“Very good!” exclaimed the General; “and I am greatly
obliged by your promptness; but look at your horse, Captain—
he is dying!”

At the same instant my bay fell, and rolled over.

“You are wrong, General,” I said, as I sprang up; “he is
dead!”

In fact he was then gasping in the death agony, and in ten
minutes he was dead.

“Pity you should lose so fine an animal, Captain,” said the
General.

“Easy come, easy go, General. I got him from General Patterson—I
believe Colonel Jackson told you how.”

“Ah! that is the horse? Well, sir, I will give you one of my
own in place of him, for he has enabled you to bring me information,
upon the receipt of which the result of the battle at Manassas
depended.”

“I wonder if General Patterson contemplated such a thing.
General, when he sent me the horse.”

“Doubtful!” replied Johnston, with his calm, grim smile;
and saluting me, he rode away rapidly.

Six hours afterwards his army was in motion for Manassas,
where the advance arrived on the night of the 20th of July.
On the next day Jackson's brigade held the enemy in check, and
Kirby Smith ended the fight by his assault upon their right.
Jackson and Smith belonged to the Army of the Shenandoah,
and this will show you that without that army the battle would
have been lost.

I brought that army, my dear friend, by means of General
Patterson's bay horse!

Such was the narrative of Captain Longbow, and I would like
to know how much of it is true. The incident of the hard ride,
and the death of the Captain's horse especially, puzzles me.
That incident is veracious, as I have once before said; but a
serious question arises as to whether Longbow bore that message!
I have a dim recollection that my friend Colonel Surry
told me once that he had been sent to Beauregard; had killed his
horse; and the high character of the Colonel renders it impossible
to doubt any statement which he makes. I expect him on
a visit soon, as he intends to make a little scout, he tells me, to
Fauquier to see a young lady—a Miss Beverley—there, and
doubtless will call by; then I shall ask him what are the real
facts of this affair.

Meanwhile my friend Longbow is entitled to be heard; and I
have even taken the trouble to set down his narrative for the
amusement of the friend to whom it will be sent. If Colonel
Surry ever composes his memoirs, as I believe is his intention,
the real truth on this important point will be recorded. Until
then—Vive Longbow!