A quarter of a mile from head-quarters he leaped a fence, and doubled back, going in the direction now of Manassas.
At daylight on the next morning he had forced his way through the Bull Run mountain.
Two hours afterward he had made a sudden attack on the enemy’s infantry. It was the rear of Hancock’s corps, which was the rear of Hooker’s army, then retiring toward the Potomac.
XV. — THE SUPPER NEAR BUCKLANDS.
Stuart’s fight near Haymarket, here alluded to, was a gay affair; but I pass over it, to a scene still gayer and decidedly more pleasant.
The fighting continued throughout the day, and at dusk a heavy rain came on. We were all tired and hungry—the general no less so than his staff—and when an invitation was sent to us by a gentleman near Bucklands, to come and sup with him, we accepted it with fervor, and hastened toward the friendly mansion.
A delightful reception awaited us. The house was full of young ladies, passionately devoted to “rebels,” and we were greeted with an enthusiasm which passed all bounds. Delicate hands pressed our own; bright eyes beamed upon us; rosy lips smiled; musical voices said “welcome!”—and soon a savory odor, pervading the mansion, indicated that the wants of the inner man were not forgotten.
An excellent supper was plainly in preparation for the bold Stuart and his military family; and that gay and gallant cavalier, General Fitz Lee having also been invited, the joy of the occasion was complete! The house rang with clashing heels, rattling sabres, and clanking spurs. A more charming sound still, however, was that made by jingling keys and rattling china, and knives and forks. All was joy and uproar: jests, compliments and laughter. Young ladies went and came; the odors grew more inviting. In ten minutes the door of a large apartment opposite the drawing-room was thrown open, and a magnificent, an enthralling spectacle was revealed to every eye. Not to be carried away, however, by enthusiasm, I will simply say that we saw before us a long mahogany table covered with the most appetizing viands—broils, roasts, stews, bread of every variety, and real coffee and tea in real silver! That magical spectacle still dwells in my memory, reader, though the fact may lower me in your good opinion. But alas! we are all “weak creatures.” The most poetical grow hungry. We remember our heroic performances in the great civil war—but ask old soldiers if these recollections are not the most vivid!