University of Virginia Library

112. CXII.
THE SUMMONS.

Going back to my narrative, from which the recollection of
this illustrious figure has diverted me, I proceed to record an
event enforcing very powerfully the good philosophy of hoping
against hope.

I was about to get into the saddle and set out on my return to
Fredericksburg, when Stuart, who had bidden me good-by, suddenly
said:

“By the by, there is a letter for you, Surry.” And he looked
among the papers on his desk.

“A letter, General.”

“Yes, brought last night by one of my scouts from over the
river. Oh, here it is!—and in the most delicate female hand-writing!”

I extended my hand, recognized May Beverley's writing in the
address, and tore open the letter.

It contained not a syllable! But there amid the scented folds
of the paper was a flower like that which she had taken from
her bosom at our parting, with that promise! This talisman
meant “Come!” and I think the blood must have rushed to my
face as I gazed upon it, for suddenly I heard a tremendous burst
of laughter from the General.

“Good!” was his exclamation, when he could catch his
breath; “here's our sly Surry getting letters full of flowers
from young ladies, and blushing like a girl to boot! Look,
Farley!”

And I found myself the centre of laughing faces, all enjoying
my confusion.

“Pshaw!” my dear General, I said, as I put the letter in my

pocket, and uttered a sort of laugh which redoubled the mirth,
“you are eternally suspecting something. I am sure you have
got a dozen letters like this in your desk there.”

“Do you think so? But they never made me blush as yours
does you!”

“That arises from the fact that I rarely receive such; this is
merely from—a friend.”

“Well! as my scout goes back to-morrow, you can send an
acknowledgment before you set out for Fredericksburg, to your
—friend.”

“Thank you, General, I don't propose to set out for Fredericksburg
this morning.”

“Indeed!”

“I have changed my mind. Will you lend me a courier and a
slip of paper?”

“Certainly—what for?”

“I am going to telegraph to General Jackson for two or three
days' leave of absence—to make a scout beyond the Rappahannock.”

At this statement Stuart threw himself upon his couch, and
uttered a laugh which threw his previous performances completely
in the shade.

There are moments, however, when it is difficult to tease people:
when a man is radiant with happiness, the hardest of all
tasks is to annoy or irritate him. So, having sent off my dispatch
to the Court-House, whence it would be transmitted to
General Jackson by telegraph, I submitted myself to the tender
mercies of Stuart, with whom teasing was a passion.

A few hours afterward I received from General Jackson the
leave asked for, and, on the same evening, set out for The
Oaks.

Shall I add another illustration of the fun-loving propensities
of Stuart? As I mounted my horse, he called in a jovial voice
for Sweeny; that worthy at once appeared, with his banjo
under his arm; and, as I rode down the hill, the voice of the
great musician—under the prompting of Stuart—was heard
singing to the banjo:

The General's laughter rang out—the staff joined in, and then
the triumphant banjo began an uproarious chorus, above which
rose the words:

“Good-by, Surry!” came in the jovial and sonorous voice of
Stuart; “success to you, my boy! and long may you wave!”