5. V.
It was nearly midnight when we arrived at this small village;
and, to continue my own personal recollections, the village
tavern appeared to present a favourable opportunity to redeem
my misfortune at Jefferson.
It was proposed, accordingly, to the General that he should
stop there and procure some coffee, of which he was very fond—
and as he acceded to this cheerfully, I applied to the burly landlord,
who responded encouragingly. In a quarter of an hour the
coffee was ready; also some excellent ale; also some bread and
the inseparable “apple butter,” or “spreading,” as the Pennsylvanians
call this edible. When General Stuart had emptied his
coffee-cup—which always put the stout cavalier in a gay humour
—he laughed, mounted his horse, and said to me:
“By the by, suppose you stay here until Hampton comes
along; I am going on with Fitz Lee. Tell Hampton to move
on steadily on the road to Dover, and show him the way.”
With these words, the General rode away on the track of
General Fitz Lee, and the present writer was left solus, to “hold
the position alone” at Salem. This position, it speedily appeared,
was not wholly desirable. The advance division under
Lee had pushed on several miles ahead—there was not a single
cavalryman beside myself in Salem—and Hampton was several
miles behind. To add to the charms of the “situation,” there
were a number of extremely cut-throat looking individuals of the
“other faction” lounging about the porch, eyeing the lonely
Confederate askance, and calculating apparently the chance of
“suppressing” him without danger—and the individual in this
disagreeable situation was nearly dead for want of sleep.
There appeared, however, to be very little real hostility—such
as I imagine would have been exhibited by the inhabitants of a
Southern village had an officer of the U. S. army been left
behind under similar circumstances. Doubtless the hangers-on
were impressed with the conviction that in case the wandering
staff-officer did not rejoin his command, General Stuart would
return to look for him, torch in hand, when the village of New
Salem would make its exit in a bonfire. The portly landlord,
especially, appeared to be a real philosopher; and when asked
the meaning of a distant noise, replied with a laugh, “Some of
your people tearing up the railroad, I guess!”
In spite of the worthy's strong coffee and the unpleasing expression
of eye in the crowd around, I was just dropping asleep
in my chair on the porch, when the clatter of hoofs resounded,
and the voice of General Hampton was heard in the darkness,
asking if there was any one there to direct him. This sound
aroused me, and in a few moments I was riding with the brave
cavalier at the head of his column toward Dover. Toward dawn
General Hampton halted, and I asked if he was going to stop.
“Yes, for a little while—I am perishing for sleep.”
And with these words the General proceeded to a haystack
near the road, pulled down some of the hay, wrapped himself in
his cape, and in a few minutes was fast asleep—his companion
exactly imitating him.
At daylight we reached the straggling little village of Dover,
where more prisoners were paroled; thence proceeded through
a fine country towards Carlisle; at Dillstown procured dinner
from the landlord of the principal tavern, a philosophic Mr. Miller,
whose walls were covered with pictures of black trotters in
skeleton conveyances, making rapid time; and at night reached
Carlisle, which General Stuart immediately summoned to surrender
by flag of truce.
The reply to this was a flat refusal from General Smith; and
soon a Whitworth gun in the town opened, and the Southern
guns replied. This continued for an hour or two, when the U. S.
barracks were fired, and the light fell magnificently upon the
spires of the city, presenting an exquisite spectacle.
Meanwhile, the men were falling asleep around the guns, and
the present writer slept very soundly within ten feet of a battery
hotly firing. Major R—leaned against a fence within a few
paces of a howitzer in process of rapid discharge, and in that upright
position “forgot his troubles.” The best example, however,
was one which General Stuart mentioned. He saw a man climb
a fence, put one leg over, and in that position drop asleep!
Any further assault upon Carlisle was stopped by a very simple
circumstance. General Lee sent for the cavalry. He had
recalled Early from York; moved with his main column east of
the South Mountain, toward the village of Gettysburg; and
Stuart was wanted. In fact, during the afternoon of our advance
to Carlisle—the first of July—the artillery fire of the “first
day's fight” was heard, and referring to Lloyd's map, I supposed
it to be at Gettysburg, a place of which I had no knowledge.
How unexpected was the concentration of the great opposing
forces there, will appear from General Stuart's reply, “I reckon
not,” when the firing was spoken of as “near Gettysburg.” No
one then anticipated a battle there—Generals Lee and Meade
almost as little as the rest.
In spite of the broken-down condition of his command, Stuart
moved at once—and whole columns went to sleep in the saddle.
Pennsylvania had so far proved to us a veritable “Land of
Drowsy head!”
This night march was the most severe I ever experienced. The
long succession of sleepless nights had prostrated the strongest,
and General Stuart and his staff moving without escort on the
Willstown road, passed over mile after mile asleep in the saddle.
At dawn, the General dismounted in a clump of trees by the
roadside; said, “I am going to sleep two hours;” and wrapping
himself in his cape simply leaned against a tree and was immediately
asleep. Everybody imitated him, and I was awakened by
the voice of one of the couriers, who informed me that “the
General was gone.” Such was the fact—Stuart had risen punctually
at the end of the two hours, stretched himself, mounted,
and ridden on solus, a wandering Major General in the heart of
Pennsylvania! In the afternoon the cavalry were at Gettysburg.
