"Well, the news is, the Yanks are all gone to h---- again, and General Lee is marching on Washington."

I don't remember whether I thanked the Richmond man or not; it's likely not, as I was so much worked up that I didn't know what I was doing. I hastily told my companions what I had heard.

They indignantly denied the truth of the story, and insisted that the Rebel operator was fooling me. On being taunted with this insinuation, I returned to the key to ask further questions.

In the meantime the ticking kept up, and when I again directed my ear to it, I heard that which convinced me of the truthfulness of the report. A report, or long dispatch, was being sent, explanatory of Stonewall Jackson's being wounded, etc. Without again questioning the operator, I learned beyond a doubt, in a convincing way, that there had been a battle, and that the Rebels claimed a victory.

That was enough for that day. We didn't stop to fool any longer with that wire, but left it open on the ground, took to our horses and galloped back to the big house. The General and Staff were in the dining-room. I gave my information breathlessly to one of the Staff, who communicated it to the General. At once officers were ordered to go in certain directions, to confirm, if possible, this report. In a very little while my report was so far confirmed by other scouts that the mass of the force then scattered over the country, was ordered to move back rapidly under cover of the coming night.

We at headquarters lay around the house until dark, the General and officers assuming an air of cheerfulness and indifference they did not feel.

In order to deceive the landlord and any Rebel spies that might be hanging around about us, an order was openly issued for a large detachment to move forward, or in the advance to Richmond. The officer in command was, I think, Custer. He understood his business, and quietly let it be known, through his men and the colored people about, that they were all going ahead. As a matter of fact, his orders were to move cautiously in that direction and to conceal his force in the woods. At dark he was to retrace his steps and follow us, becoming our rear-guard on the retreat.

We were in a tight place, a mighty tight place, being miles from our own base, not only with a victorious army between us, but J. E. B. Stuart had got loose, and now had the leisure to follow us up. We must recross the Rapidan and Rappahannock at certain fords. I can not go into the details of this great movement. Anyone who reads must see that the problem of extricating this large body of cavalry was a most difficult military feat. Yet the movement was made completely and successfully by the skillful handling of the troops by General Stoneman and his efficient aides--Custer, Kilpatrick, Buford and Gregg.

At the time I knew General Stoneman he was a little past middle age. I think his short beard and mustache were tinged with gray. In features he somewhat resembled Sedgwick. He was not, therefore, a handsome man. In fact, to most persons, General Stoneman had rather an austere, dignified bearing that was somewhat repellant. He was cross--awfully cross about headquarters. The boys used to call him "Dyspepsia," which I think rather an appropriate title. As a rule, the pet names given the Generals were suitable.

Some of those who had probably run against him when his hardtack and bacon did not sit well on his stomach, were fond of intimating that he had conspired to beat Pleasonton and his friends out of their commands.

I don't know how this was, but it is certain Pleasonton was manoeuvered out of it for the time being. Pleasonton recently told me this entire history. There were many "conspiracies" going on in Virginia about that time. Stoneman's loyalty was even questioned by some of our extra patriots from New England; probably because he was connected by marriage with an influential Southern family residing in Baltimore.

I reckon he was one of the McClellan-Franklin-Fitz-John-Porter-Smith-and-Hooker clique. One little incident on the march will serve to show his notion of the proper conduct of the war.

We all foraged a little, despite the general order prohibiting it. As a matter of fact, it was necessary that we should do so to procure feed for our jaded horses. While on these expeditions after forage for horses, etc., the men took the opportunity to buy from the colored people.

We had a great supply of imitation Confederate money along. Indeed, the boys generally found out that any piece of paper that looked at all like a dollar bill would go among the ignorant contrabands. Paper money was new to them, and it was all alike, good, whether the label off a pill-box or a genuine greenback. In this way we got around the order against foraging. We also tendered to the white people their own Confederate money. If they got mad and demanded gold and silver, the boys were apt to get mad, too, and help themselves. One day a lot of us were clearing out a smoke-house in the rear of a big mansion. A certain officer--now a Brigadier-General in the Regular Cavalry Service--was in command of the detachment. We had tried to buy, but they wouldn't sell, so the boys helped themselves.

In that part of the country, the farmers, being so far distant from the towns, kept a large supply of provisions on hand. In addition to hams and shoulders, etc., there was a barrel of molasses inside. Every fellow there filled his canteen and everything he had with the long-drawn sweetness. It was this slow-running molasses that got us into trouble, by keeping the boys there too long, waiting their turn at the spigot.

While we were leaving, Stoneman and Staff rode by the house. Seeing us coming away loaded down with hams, etc., he halted, asked for the officer, who rode up and saluted.

"What are you doing there?" yelled the General.

"The men were foraging." The officer only got this word out when Stoneman stopped him with an oath--

"Foraging h----! You're stealing; you're leading a band of robbers."

Turning and putting spurs to his horse, he dashed down the road, leaving the discomfited officer standing at the head of his enlisted men, who had heard the unmerited rebuke. That officer was Wesley Merritt, now General. I suppose General Stoneman was afterward informed that we had tried to buy, etc.

On a long march of this kind, it is the horses that first give out. As a cavalryman, I believe I speak for the whole of that arm of the service in saying, that we were always willing to do without ourselves, but the poor horse must be provided for.

A cavalryman may be starved and tired almost to exhaustion, but he will walk miles, in all sorts of weather, doing without sleep or rest, to carry back an armful of hay or fodder for his horse. It's one of the dreadful things to be compelled to ride, day and night, a tired, hungry, but ever-faithful horse.

The men become so much attached to their horses that they will steal, and risk their lives recklessly, to get them a feed. In the Regular Service, the men were discouraged from forming any of these horse attachments. It was found that, when once a soldier made a pet of his horse, he was apt to be too careful of him.

Mr. Lincoln's jocular remark, that horses had become more valuable than their riders, because the horses were getting scarce, contains a great deal of truth.

More consideration was given to the horses than to the men. As an illustration of the point, the first night of this return march I was approached by an officer, who was hunting volunteers to ride in the advance to the river, to get help at the crossings. I explained that I had been out in the advance every hour and was played out, and was willing, but afraid I could not stand it. The only consolation I got from the officer was, "Can your horse stand it? We will risk you."

The officer explained further that he had been sent after me, because I was understood to be familiar with the country. I was not familiar with that part of the country, but I agreed to join this advance. Orders were given to be prepared to move quietly when called upon, and we all layed down for a little sleep.

In all the pictures of the war published, I have failed to find what I think would be one of the most striking--a squadron of cavalrymen, sleeping on their arms under their horses' noses. The horses, saddled, are all in line; the men, all heavily armed, are lying right in front sleeping, with the bridle-rein loosely fastened to their left hand. I have slept soundly, and sweetly, in a line like this. The horse will sleep and rest also. There is no fear of the horse treading on his sleeping rider. He seems instinctively to understand that they are both occupying dangerous ground and must stick together.

It was while resting in this position, after the interview with the officer, that I formed a plan to go alone in advance of this advance to our army. At the first opportunity, I suggested to this officer that I should go alone and see the lay of the land. I preferred this to being one of a squad of mounted men to ride along to hunt the Rebel sharpshooters.

If there is anything in war that is embarrassing, it is to be on a cavalry line with orders to draw the enemy's fire.

On Stoneman's raid, and after, the force generally was fought dismounted; that is, No. 4 holds the horses of Nos. 1, 2 and 3, who advance as an infantry skirmish-line. They are armed with Spencer rifles, and go along gingerly over a big field, at the other end of which is a wood, to ascertain if the Rebels are in that wood. The poor skirmishers know damn well the Rebs are there, but their orders are to go down in this way, and find out by getting shot at.

Having had a taste of this sort of advance-guard service, wherein I had attracted too much Rebel fire, I was anxious to be excused. My plan was to go alone on my horse as a Scout or Spy. I should not carry any arms to be seen, and would dress as a Rebel or country farmer-boy. I thought that, in this guise, I could ride freely over the roads and get into our lines. The scheme seemed to please our officer immensely, and he reported the matter to General Stoneman's Chief of Staff. I was ordered to report to the Chief, and again unfolded my plan. He suggested, among other things, that I should, if I met any questioners, endeavor to mislead them as to the number and, especially, the route of our cavalry.

A disguise was obtained; it was a dirty old jacket, borrowed from a contraband cook. Several persons interested themselves in my make up; one got me a straw hat, another a pair of trousers, etc.

I left all my arms except a pistol, and, when ready to go, I paralyzed them by demanding a bunch of signal rockets. I explained that I should only use them in case of extreme danger; that the appearance of a certain rocket at night would indicate that that neighborhood was to be avoided. In carrying these rockets, and exploding them, I knew that I ran great personal risk, but somehow I felt that, alone, I would be able to get through. I was only nervous and doubtful of myself when working in company.

The General, or at least his Staff, was most solicitous that I should deceive or mislead the people as to their real force and purpose. We only anticipated serious trouble at the fords on the Rapidan, and possibly the Rappahannock.

The General had heard, through the Captain, of some sick and wounded Rebel soldiers who were returning from Chancellorsville to the interior, that Hooker had been defeated. He had also ascertained that the report I had brought about their marching on Washington City was exaggerated. We expected, naturally, that some steps would be taken by our army to help us out. We also expected that Stuart would endeavor to head us off and capture the entire force.

This was about the condition of things when I started out on the road alone towards the Rappahannock. For mile after mile I met nothing. At the few scattered houses I would dash up and breathlessly ask for information about the Yankees. At the colored quarters I scattered the news that the Yankees had gone back into the Valley.

On this return march, Stoneman did not once show a horse on a road during the daytime. This fact probably accounts for his success. During every day the men were all concealed in suitable places. Skirmishers, of course, kept guard, and, at a moment's warning, the whole cavalry force would have been up in arms as infantry behind breastworks to repel an attack. The marching was all done at night. Men sleep pretty well on horseback when they are as tired out as were Stoneman's raiders. A column of horses will follow each other without the use of any bridle over the most devious roads.

One of the funny things about the raid was, that nearly half of the cavalrymen were bare-headed when they got back. This resulted from sleeping in the saddle on these night marches. The narrow roads we were compelled to take were overhung with the branches of trees; these stripped the hats off the sleeping beauties. Very often, too, the rider in front would grasp a switch, or limb, and hold on till he was safely passed; then, without a thought of the sleepy rider in his rear, he would let go, and the switch, flying back, would strike the man in the face. This sort of thing wakened up a good many sleepers and made some disturbances in the ranks. It had the effect, also, of making the faces of those who caught the switch look decidedly as if they had come out of a free fight, especially if they were hatless.

My ride along during that day was without special incident. I was more than surprised to find the path clear of Rebel soldiers. I did all that was expected of me as a Scout, in circulating freely the false information that our force had gone the other way.

With a great deal of trepidation I approached the crossing of the Rapidan. I knew that, if there was a force of Rebels any place in our path, they would be there. I inquired particularly of everyone I would meet if there were any Yankees on the road. I knew very well that, in asking this question, I'd find out whether there were Rebels around.

There were no Yankees there, but a few of the Rebels had been seen over the river in the morning. Here was my dilemma. The crossing was clear now, but how long it would remain so was uncertain.

I was too far from our men to make any signal to them that the road was clear. I didn't like to venture over the river alone, where those Rebels had been seen. The important thing was to report that ford clear. I staked my horse in an adjoining grove, determined to conceal myself until night.

As the early evening wore on and no enemy showed themselves, I became impatient at lying idle, and boldly determined to ride back to our force before dark. I knew very well that, once we were safely over that river at this crossing, with its steep precipitous banks, with our men in force, we had a clear field for a run, or a fight with J. E. B. Stuart to the Rappahannock.

Therefore I rode back at a gallop over all the long road. Just after dark I met the advance of our force,--the same I had been asked to volunteer with.

Hastily informing the officer in command of my observations at the ferry, that the crossing was not occupied, etc., he reported to the General.

In a little while there came dashing up the road the head of our column.

Nobody stopped to thank me for the good news that we could get over the river, but all were intent on getting there at once. In a word, the entire force got over all right, and, in due time, we crossed the Rappahannock, and were once more safely within our own lines.

I do not know the figures for this raid. I have drawn my recollections of it to an abrupt termination. My impression is, that we lost nothing of material importance. We captured a good many prisoners, probably more than we lost. My notion is that the cavalry can boast that we brought back the force intact.

One great good was accomplished by the raid--the Rebels were again taught to show more respect to a Yankee on horseback. It was Hooker who failed, not his cavalry.

The truth should not be overlooked, that the partial success of the expedition was not due to General Hooker, nor even to his Lieutenant, General Stoneman. The one man to whom more credit is probably due than any other was General Alexander, the Chief of Staff of the Cavalry Corps, who served both with Stoneman and Pleasonton. It was he who planned and organized this great raid; it was his object and aim to go to Richmond, and that we did not go in while at the back gates of the city is to be charged solely to Stoneman or Hooker.

This is not an opinion merely. I rode close by General Alexander one day, and heard him with my own big ears urge, yes plead with Stoneman to go on into Richmond anyhow. I heard Stoneman's voice utter the words: "I know d---- well we can do it, but my orders are not to go to Richmond."

General Alexander was a large man, with a full beard, who talked in a slow, deliberate voice, but always in a kindly manner. He became somewhat ruffled at Stoneman's declining to act upon his suggestion, and I recall very distinctly how this ordinarily quiet man became as much interested in his subject as a Methodist preacher or politician in an argument, on horseback.

Both were so intent upon the question that neither took any notice of the little orderly in a dirty uniform who was riding near them.