"Where did I meet you?" would be the reply.
"There was no introduction. I met you in your camp, though you were not aware of it at the time."
Major Richards, a swarthy-looking soldier, remarked to me that he was once a prisoner of the Fifth and Sixth Michigan cavalry. He was captured near Aldie, in the spring of 1863, and made his escape when the Michigan regiments were on the march back to Fairfax Court House, in the night, when his guards were not noticing, by falling out of the column and boldly ordering his captors to "close up" as they were coming out of a narrow place in the road when the column of fours had to break by twos. In the darkness and confusion he was mistaken for one of our own officers. After he had seen the column all "closed up" he rode the other way.
After awhile the farmer called us in to dinner and the blue and the gray were arranged around the table, in alternate seats. I sat between two members of the celebrated Smith family. One of them, R. Chilton Smith, was a relative of General Lee, or of his chief-of-staff, a young man of very refined manners, highly educated and well bred. He sent a package and a message by me to a friend in Winchester, a commission that was faithfully executed. The other was the son of Governor, better known as "Extra Billy" Smith, of Virginia; a short, sturdy youth, full of life and animation and venom.
"Mosby would be a blanked fool to take the parole," said he, spitefully. "I will not, if he does."
"But Lee has surrendered. The jig is up. Why try to prolong the war and cause further useless bloodshed?"
"I will never give up so long as there is a man in arms against your yankee government," he replied.
"But what can you do? Richmond is ours."
"I will go and join 'Joe' Johnston."
"It is a question of but a few days, at most, when Sherman will bag him."