ns had gone on,
probably to our original destination of the previous night; though why
they should have passed our present resting-place without calling there,
remained a mystery; nor was that point ever satisfactorily explained. To
proceed at once was impossible, for a fresh horse had to be found for
our guide; this, a cousin of our host's offered to provide by the
following evening (we could not venture to stir abroad in daylight); he
also offered to make his way to the farm where the missing men were
supposed to be, early in the morning, and to bring back certain
intelligence of their movements. This was only one instance of the
cordial kindness and hearty co-operation which I met with at the hands
of these sturdy yeomen. Not only would they rise and open their doors at
the untimeliest of hours, and entertain you with their choicest of
fatlings, corn, and wine, but there was no amount of personal toil or
risk that they would not gladly undergo to forward any southward-bound
stranger on his way; nor could you have insulted your host more grossly
than by hinting at pecuniary guerdon. Before midnight the snow had
ceased to fall; the next morning broke bright and sunnily, though the
frost still held on sharply. Two or three visitors, masculine and
feminine, came in sleighs during the day, and altogether it passed much
more rapidly than the preceding one. About four, P. M., our good-natured
messenger returned; our comrades had duly reached the spot originally
fixed for the Saturday night's halt, and had pursued their journey on
the Sunday evening to the farm which was to be our last point before
attempting the Potomac; their written explanation was very vague, but
they promised to wait for us at the house they were then making for. We
at once determined to press on thus far that night, though the score or
more of miles of crow-flight between would certainly be lengthened at
least a third, by the _detours_ necessary to avoid probable pickets or
outposts, and the deep snow must make the going fearfully heavy.
Walter's fresh mount came down--a powerful, active mare, in good working
condition, but with weak, cracked hoofs that would not have carried her
a day's march on hard, stony roads.

Under the red sunset we started once more, with more good wishes;
indeed, I had ridden a mile before my fingers forgot the parting
hand-grip of my stalwart host.

Now in thinking or speaking of these night rides beforehand, one is apt
to