"War must be brief when traitors brave the field."
At a later day, in a holier cause, the line remains an axiom. Nor at the time of which we write was the policy much changed. While all admit the necessity, for the preservation of proper discipline, of having Rebel property for the use of the army taken formally under authorities duly constituted for the purpose, and not by indiscriminate license to the troops, none can be so blind as to fail to see the bent of the sympathies controlling the General in command. During the march to Middle-Borough, horses were taken along the route to supply deficiencies in the teams, and forage for their use, but in all cases the women who claimed to represent absent male owners—absent doubtless in arms—and who made no secret of their own Rebel inclinations, received Quarter-Master's receipts for their full value—generally, in fact, their
own valuation. These receipts were understood to be presently payable. The interests of justice and our finances would have been much better subserved had their payment been conditioned upon the loyalty of the owner. A different policy would not have comported, however, with that which at an earlier day placed Lee's mansion on the Peninsula under double guard, and when you give it the in that case sorry merit of consistency, its best excuse is given.
Beyond some lives lost by a force of Regulars who ventured too near the river without proper precautions the day after we occupied the Gap, and the loss of a Regimental head-quarters wagon, loaded with the officers' baggage, broken down upon a road on which the exhorting Colonel, after deliberate survey, had set his heart as the safest of roads from the Summit, nothing of note occurred during the stay. Our evacuation of the Gap was almost immediately followed by Rebel occupation.
The statement that nothing of note occurred may, perhaps, be doing injustice to our little Dutch Doctor, who had the best of reasons for remembering the morning of our departure from Snicker's Summit. To the Doctor the mountain, with its rocks, seemed familiar ground. A Tyrolese by birth, he loved to talk of his mountain home and sing its lively airs. But that sweet home had one disadvantage. Their beasts of draught and burden were oxen, and the only horse in the village was a cart-horse owned by the Doctor's father. Of necessity, therefore, his horsemanship was defective, an annoying affair in the army. Many officers and men were desirous of seeing the Doctor mount and ride his newly purchased horse, and the Doctor was quite as anxious to evade observation. His saddle was on and blankets strapped as
he surveyed the beast, now passing to this side and now to that, giving wide berth to heels that never kicked, and with his servant at hand, waiting until the last files of the Regiment had disappeared in the woods below. Not unobserved, however, for two of the Field and Staff had selected a clump of scrub pines close at hand for the purpose of witnessing the movement. A rock near by served him as a stand from which to mount. The horse was brought up, and the Doctor, after patting his head and rubbing his neck to assure himself of the good intentions of the animal, cautiously took his place in the saddle and adjusted his feet in the stirrups.
The animal moved off quietly enough, until the Doctor, to increase his speed, touched him in the flank with his spur, when the novel sensation to the beast had the effect of producing a sudden flank movement, which resulted in the instant precipitation of the Doctor upon his back among the rocks and rough undergrowth. The horse stood quietly; there was no movement of the bushes among which the Doctor fell, and the mirth of the observers changed to fear lest an accident of a serious nature had occurred. The officers and servant rushed to the spot. Fortunately the fall had been broken somewhat by the bushes, but nevertheless plainly audible groans in Dutch escaped him, and when aware of the presence of the observers, exclamations in half broken English as to what the result might have been. The actual result was that the horse was forthwith condemned as "no goot" by the Doctor; an ambulance sent for, and necessity for the first time made him take a seat during the march in that vehicle, a practice disgracefully common among army surgeons. The horse in charge of the servant followed, but was ever
after used as a pack. No amount of persuasion, even when way-worn and foot-sore from the march, could induce the Doctor to remount his charger.
Middle-Borough, a pretty place near the Bull Run Range of mountains, was reached about ten o'clock in the forenoon of the day after leaving the Gap. After the first Bull Run battle the place was made use of, as indeed were all the towns as far up the country as Martinsburg, as a Rebel hospital. Some of the inmates in butternut and grey, with surgeons and officers on parole in like color, but gorgeous in gilding, were still to be seen about the streets. Greyheaded darkies and picaninnies peered with grinning faces over every fence. The wenches were busily employing the time allowed for the halt in baking hoe-cakes for the men.
In front of the principal mansion of the place, owned by a Major in the Rebel service under Jackson, a small group of officers and men were interesting themselves in the examination of an antique naval sword that had just been purchased by a Sergeant from a venerable Uncle Ned, who stood hat in hand, his bald head exposed to the sun, bowing as each new comer joined the crowd.