27. XXVII.
THE ENCHANTMENTS OF BOGY!
One morning I went to see Stuart, who held the front with
his cavalry toward Martinsburg, and found him lying, as usual,
on his red blanket, under a tree, waiting for the enemy.
He was listening to a report from our friend Corporal Hagan,
who, with a beard longer, mustache shaggier, and a voice more
closely resembling thunder than before, gave the particulars of
the capture of two or three prisoners he had just brought in.
“We charged 'em, Colonel,” continued Hagan, after bestowing
upon me a punctilious salute, “and they run like the very old
devil was after 'em. I come up with this young man here,”
pointing to one of the blue-coats, “and I jest grabbed hold of
him by the nape of his neck, and says I, `Young man, the Judgment-Day
is come, and you are unprepar'd.' He give right up,
without making any row; and I really do believe, Colonel, he
thought I was the old devil himself—ha! ha!”
When Hagan laughed, the ground seemed to shake. His merriment
was Olympian, and partook of the earthquake.
“I got his weep-on, Colonel,” continued the giant, exhibiting
a fine carbine, “and I thought, as I had the dead wood on him, I
would go through him, and take his boots. But then I remembered
that that was ag'inst your orders. Ain't that the truth?
Speak to the Colonel!” thundered Hagan, and he scowled in a
truly terrific manner at the prisoner.
The unfortunate individual confirmed every particular; and then
commanding “About face!” Hagan marched off his prisoners,
grave and solemn to the last.
“Hurrah for Hagan! He is a character,” I said, laughing.
“True,” said Stuart; “and, if you will ride with me to-day, I
will make you acquainted with another.”
“Who is that?”
“My dear Surry, a good soldier never asks any questions—
come! I'll show you a real curiosity, and give you an excellent
dinner. Do you accept?”
“Do I accept!—when I have been living on hard bread for a
whole week!”
“Agreed, then. But who is that yonder?”
“General Johnston and Colonel Jackson.”
Stuart rose and went to meet them, receiving and returning
the salute of the two officers.
“So we have nearly caught the indefatigable Stuart[1]
nappiing!”
Such was General Johnston's greeting, as he shook hands with
the commander of his cavalry.
“Not quite, General; but I was not expecting an advance on
my rear.”
“Well, Colonel, we are going to the front. Will you ride
with us?”
Stuart replied by getting into the saddle, and the whole party
set forward for the front. A complete reconnoissance was made,
the ground thoroughly examined, and then, as the sun began to
decline, the heads of the horses were turned again toward
Darkesville.
I began now to think of that famous dinner which had been
promised me, greatly fearing that the visit of the two commanders
would interfere with it. Stuart solved this interesting problem,
however, in the most agreeable manner. He invited them
to accompany him, highly extolling the cuisine and the hospitality
of his friend—and they accepted. Generals are just like the rest
of us, my dear reader: they get hungry. So we set out for the
head-quarters of the “real curiosity.”
His name, I soon heard, was Captain Bogy; and we found the
worthy intrenched beside a limpid spring, in a glade of the
woods. Horses were picketed near, for Captain Bogy was a cavalry-man.
The canvas cover of a wagon was visible through the
bushes; not far off, a sable individual was seen busily cooking;
and in the foreground, beneath a mighty tree, some planks,
stretched across saplings, which rested in turn on forks driven
into the ground, formed a rustic table.
Such were the preparations for the entertainment; but how
shall I describe the host? Imagine Falstaff in an old cavalry uniform,
his mighty paunch encircled by a sword-belt half buried
from sight; his legs cased in enormous horseman's boots, with
spurs of fabulous proportions, which jingled as he moved. The
Captain appeared only about forty-five, but his hair was grizzled
and his mustache gray. A lurking smile seemed ever upon his
features; and it was plain that the worthy loved the good things
and the good jokes of life better than all the glories of arms.
Bogy greeted his guests with the ease of an old soldier, declaring
himself much honored by their visit; and then, as though in
matters so serious as eating and drinking there was no time to
spend in idle talk or ceremony, he applied himself assiduously to
the great work before him.
His whole soul was evidently in the matter of dinner, and he
had secured an able staff-officer in the person of the old negro,
who presided at the fire with an air as grave and serious as his
master's. From that fire came the soothing music of frying meat
and a savory odor invaded the nostrils of the guests.
Soon the golden moment came when all was done to a turn;
and then, directed by Bogy, who was solemn and preoccupied,
the dilapidated African staff-officer made his appearance with a
pile of plates. My attention was attracted by them. They were
china, snow-white, and richly gilt!
Had Bogy, then, discarded the military tin-platter, and did he
revel habitually in this gorgeous service? The idea was incredible—but
there they were!
The white plates were succeeded by shining knives with ivory
handles, and then every eye stared—Bogy had silver forks!
Gilt plates and silver forks!!!
Bogy was modest, unassuming; he would not observe the general
wonder and admiration. He made some innocent jests; he
coughed slightly, and disappeared in the direction of the wagon.
What does Bogy return with? Is it not a brace of bottles?
It is a brace of bottles, with rich labels and green seals. Bogy
sets them on the table—all eyes admire!
His aid brings him mint and ice from the spring—a glass dish
of white sugar from the wonderful wagon; and then behold! a
long row of rich cut-glass goblets! The guests cease to wonder
farther; they gaze in silence at the great magician.
He responds to that look by another, serene and smiling. He
seems to say, “Have confidence in your host, my friends; he is
equal to the present great occasion!”
Bogy draws a cork—a rich bouquet of Otard brandy, old and
mellow, is inhaled. Some young officers who have joined the
company look faint. That odor overcomes their sensitive nerves.
Old Otard on the outpost!
With the hand of the master, Bogy mixes his liquids, and behold,
a long row of cut-glass goblets full of julep, from whose
Alpine heights of ice springs the fragrant mint! As the contents
of those bright goblets disappear down the throats of the guests,
their eyes close, and Bogy towers before them, the greatest of
mortals.
This is the preface only, however. Bogy now opens the volume.
Dinner is ready, and is placed upon the board. At the
head is a Virginia ham, which Lucullus might envy; at the foot
a saddle of mutton; at the sides, chickens, cutlets, and steaks,
interspersed with all the esculents of the season!
By the side of each plate the sable aid places three wineglasses,
and these are filled with Rhine wine, Champagne, and
Madeira!!!
The guests take their seats—they proceed from enchantment
to enchantment. The entrées are followed by ice-cream in a
silver holder! Almonds, raisins, English walnuts, olives, and
Havana cigars!! Coffee with condensed cream, served in small
gilt cups, with spoons of solid silver!!!
No allusions are made; we are too well bred. Bogy enjoys
his triumph without interruption. He is the model of a host.
He gently urges his guests to renewed attacks on the viands.
Under his urging they perform wonders.
Nor does the great master allow the conversation to flag. He
keeps the ball in motion, and his anecdotes are so pithy and so
richly humorous that every face relaxes into a smile.
Stuart stimulates and seconds him, laughing loudly as the entertainment
proceeds. At last it draws to a conclusion, and
Stuart raises his coffee-cup.
“I wish to offer a toast!” says the gay cavalier.
Captain Bogy looks gratified, modest—he smiles sweetly. It
is Falstaff just after dinner.
“To the health of your friend, who has sent you `a small
box,' Bogy! The present company honors him, and long may
he wave!”
Bogy bows his head with the air of a girl who is overcome
and blushing at a declaration.
“I will write to him and tell him of your good wishes, Colonel.
He will then immediately send me another.”
“In which case everybody will be happy to dine again with
you,” said Stuart. “But you have omitted one thing.”
“What is that, Colonel?” exclaimed Bogy, with a sudden look
of anxiety.
“To tell us the name of your friend.”
“His name, Colonel?”
“Yes.”
“Hum! I really have forgotten it”-
“Then perhaps I can assist you.”
“You! Colonel?”
“Shall I try?”
Bogy smiled. That smile was evidently a challenge.
“Well, here goes for a guess, Bogy,” said Stuart, laughing.
“Your friend's name is Patterson—is it not? Don't deny it!”
And he pointed, with a loud laugh, to the wagon in the bushes.
Upon the side of the vehicle all now saw a large “U.S.”
Bogy's head slowly drooped; he swallowed a glass of wine.
Then rising to his feet, he spoke as follows:
“It is impossible, Colonel, to hide any thing from your knowledge,
and from this moment Bogy don't mean ever to attempt
it. That individual now throws himself upon the mercy of the
court, and confesses that he really has received all these good
things from the individual whose honored name has just been
pronounced by my friend upon the right. That wagon was captured
in a little raid last night, and its contents were soon found
to be varied and extensive. What could Bogy do, gentlemen?
What better use could he put those contents to than to feast his
commander and his friends? That is his plea in bar of sentence—
and he appeals to the quality of his brandy in justification!
What head-quarters has he rifled and made desolate by this capture?
who can tell?—perhaps the mess of General Patterson
himself! We have appreciated, however, his selection of wines,
and his coffee and cigars have been favorably criticised. I would
have wished that his Madeira had been a little older; that his
cayenne pepper had been stronger; the pair of boots that I
found in the wagon, about four sizes larger. But the great mistake
in life is being too fastidious. It is the place of a soldier to
put up with inconveniences, to make the best of his lot, and to
suppress all discontent. With these few remarks, Colonel, unaccustomed
as I am to public speaking, I beg leave to conclude by
offering this honorable company:
“The good health of our friend over the way, who is dining
out to-day! and may he soon send another little present to his
comrades!”
“He was cursing you awfully when I left him, Captain.”
All started as these words resounded behind us; and every
eye was turned in the direction of the sound.
There stood a gay youngster of about eighteen or nineteen,
tall, handsome, and elegantly dressed. The features of the youth
were lit up by a smile, and he sustained the looks levelled at him
with a species of joyous pride and insouciance.
“Why, where did you come from, my young friend?” exclaimed
Bogy; “you appear to have started from the earth!”
“I came through the lines, Captain,” was the reply of the gay
young man, as he saluted with a movement full of graceful freedom.
“I am from Maryland, and yesterday I was at the head-quarters
of a Major Somebody in the Yankee army. He was
cursing and swearing at the loss of his wagon, and I rather
think, Captain, that you have fallen heir to it!”
There was so much gay courtesy in the air of the young
man, and his face was illuminated by a smile so bright and glad,
that I could not help admiring him.
In reply to our questions, he briefly explained that he had
come over to join the Southern army. His name was Harry
Saltoun; he had many Maryland friends in Stuart's Cavalry.
Among others, Captain Brien, who could vouch for his loyalty.
“Will you have me, Colonel?” he asked, turning to Stuart;
“I would rather fight under you as a private than have a commission!”
I saw from Stuart's smile that the words had won his heart.
“All right!” was his gay reply, as he made room for the
young man by him. “That's the way I like a soldier to
talk!”
The guests soon rose, and Bogy made a last address. I shall
not attempt to record it: what great orator was ever correctly
reported? Imagine Falstaff, my dear reader, doing the honors
of his own table, and you will have formed some idea of the remarks
of the great Bogy!
When we left him, I think it was the opinion of everybody
that his equal, as a host, was not to be found in the whole universe.
So we returned to Big Spring, and thence I rode back with
Jackson.
The young Marylander had remained with Stuart.
