Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Part 17

"Best give it up," a whisperer said.

"By heaven, I'll range their rebel den"

"They'll treat you well," the captive cried; "They're all like us--handsome--well bred: In wood or town, with sword or pen, Polite is Mosby, bland his men."

"Where were you, lads, last night?--come, tell"

"We?--at a wedding in the Vale-- The bridegroom our comrade; by his side Belisent, my cousin--O, so proud Of her young love with old wounds pale-- A Virginian girl! G.o.d bless her pride-- Of a crippled Mosby-man the bride!"

"Four wall shall mend that saucy mood, And moping prisons tame him down"

Said Captain Cloud. "G.o.d help that day"

Cried Captain Morn, "and he so young.

But hark, he sings--a madcap one"

"_O we multiply merrily in the May, The birds and Mosby's men, they say!_"

While echoes ran, a wagon old, Under stout guard of Corporal Chew Came up; a lame horse, dingy white, With clouted harness; ropes in hand, Cringed the humped driver, black in hue; By him (for Mosby's band a sight) A sister-rebel sat, her veil held tight.

"I picked them up," the Corporal said, "Crunching their way over stick and root, Through yonder wood. The man here--Cuff-- Says they are going to Leesburg town"

The Colonel's eye took in the group; The veiled one's hand he spied--enough!

Not Mosby's. Spite the gown's poor stuff,

Off went his hat: "Lady, fear not; We soldiers do what we deplore-- I must detain you till we march"

The stranger nodded. Nettled now, He grew politer than before:-- "'Tis Mosby's fault, this halt and search"

The lady stiffened in her starch.

"My duty, madam, bids me now Ask what may seem a little rude.

Pardon--that veil--withdraw it, please (Corporal! make every man fall back); Pray, now I do but what I should; Bethink you, 'tis in masks like these That Mosby haunts the villages."

Slowly the stranger drew her veil, And looked the Soldier in the eye-- A glance of mingled foul and fair; Sad patience in a proud disdain, And more than quietude. A sigh She heaved, and if all unaware, And far seemed Mosby from her care.

She came from Yewton Place, her home, So ravaged by the war's wild play-- Campings, and foragings, and fires-- That now she sought an aunt's abode.

Her Kinsmen? In Lee's army, they.

The black? A servant, late her sire's.

And Mosby? Vainly he inquires.

He gazed, and sad she met his eye; "In the wood yonder were you lost"

No; at the forks they left the road Because of hoof-prints (thick they were-- Thick as the words in notes thrice crossed), And fearful, made that episode.

In fear of Mosby? None she showed.

Her poor attire again he scanned: "Lady, once more; I grieve to jar On all sweet usage, but must plead To have what peeps there from your dress; That letter--'tis justly prize of war"

She started--gave it--she must need.

"'Tis not from Mosby? May I read?"

And straight such matter he perused That with the Guide he went apart.

The Hospital Steward's turn began: "Must squeeze this darkey; every tap Of knowledge we are bound to start"

"Garry," she said, "tell all you can Of Colonel Mosby--that brave man."

"Dun know much, sare; and missis here Know less dan me. But dis I know--"

"Well, what?" "I dun know what I know"

"A knowing answer!" The hump-back coughed, Rubbing his yellowish wool like tow.

"Come--Mosby--tell!" "O dun look so!

My gal nursed missis--let we go."

"Go where?" demanded Captain Cloud; "Back into bondage? Man, you're free"

"Well, _let_ we free!" The Captain's brow Lowered; the Colonel came--had heard: "Pooh! pooh! his simple heart I see-- A faithful servant.--Lady" (a bow), "Mosby's abroad--with us you'll go.

"Guard! look to your prisoners; back to camp!

The man in the gra.s.s--can he mount and away?

Why, how he groans!" "Bad inward bruise-- Might lug him along in the ambulance"

"Coals to Newcastle! let him stay.

Boots and saddles!--our pains we lose, Nor care I if Mosby hear the news!"

But word was sent to a house at hand, And a flask was left by the hurt one's side.

They seized in that same house a man, Neutral by day, by night a foe-- So charged his neighbor late, the Guide.

A grudge? Hate will do what it can; Along he went for a Mosby-man.

No secrets now; the bugle calls; The open road they take, nor shun The hill; retrace the weary way.

But one there was who whispered low, "This is a feint--we'll back anon; Young Hair-Brains don't retreat, they say; A brush with Mosby is the play!"

They rode till eve. Then on a farm That lay along a hill-side green, Bivouacked. Fires were made, and then Coffee was boiled; a cow was coaxed And killed, and savory roasts were seen; And under the lee of a cattle-pen The guard supped freely with Mosby's men.

The ball was bandied to and fro; Hits were given and hits were met; "Chickamauga, Feds--take off your hat"

"But the Fight in the Clouds repaid you, Rebs"

"Forgotten about Mana.s.sas yet"

Chatting and chaffing, and t.i.t for tat, Mosby's clan with the troopers sat.

"Here comes the moon!" a captive cried; "A song! what say? Archy, my lad"

Hailing are still one of the clan (A boyish face with girlish hair), "Give us that thing poor Pansy made Last Year." He brightened, and began; And this was the song of Mosby's man:

_Spring is come; she shows her pa.s.s-- Wild violets cool!

South of woods a small close gra.s.s-- A vernal wool!

Leaves are a'bud on the sa.s.safras-- They'll soon be full; Blessings on the friendly screen-- I'm for the South! says the leaf.a.ge green._

_Robins! fly, and take your fill Of out-of-doors-- Garden, orchard, meadow, hill, Barns and bowers; Take your fill, and have your will-- Virginia's yours!

But, bluebirds! keep away, and fear The ambuscade in bushes here._

"A green song that," a seargeant said; "But where's poor Pansy? gone, I fear"

"Ay, mustered out at Ashby's Gap"

"I see; now for a live man's song; Ditty for ditty--prepare to cheer.

My bluebirds, you can fling a cap!

You barehead Mosby-boys--why--clap!"

_Nine Blue-coats went a-nutting Slyly in Tennessee-- Not for chestnuts--better than that-- Hugh, you b.u.mble-bee!

Nutting, nutting-- All through the year there's nutting!_

_A tree they spied so yellow, Rustling in motion queer; In they fired, and down they dropped-- b.u.t.ternuts, my dear!

Nutting, nutting-- Who'll 'list to go a-nutting?_

Ah! why should good fellows foemen be?

And who would dream that foes they were-- Larking and singing so friendly then-- A family likeness in every face.

But Captain Cloud made sour demur: "Guard! keep your prisoners _in_ the pen, And let none talk with Mosby's men."