tle valley nestling beneath the foot-hills at the
base of the mountains whose tops towered to the sky. Hills and wooded
terraces surrounded it, shutting it in on all sides, obstructing the
view and leaving the details of the adjacent landscape to the
imagination.

Mosby evidently had arranged his arrival with a view to theatric
effect--though it was no mimic stage on which he was acting--for it was
to the sound of the bugle's note that he burst into view and, like a
highland chief coming to a lowland council, rode proudly at the head of
his men. Finely uniformed and mounted on a thorough bred sorrel mare,
whose feet spurned the ground, he pranced into our presence. Next came
about sixty of his men, including most of the officers, all, like
himself, dressed in their best and superbly mounted. It was a goodly
sight to see.

General Chapman advanced to meet the commander as he dismounted and the
two officers shook hands cordially. There were then introductions all
around and in a few moments, the blue and the gray were intermingling on
the most friendly terms.

It was difficult to believe that we were in the presence of the most
daring and audacious partisan leader, at the same time that he was one
of the most intrepid and successful cavalry officers in the confederate
service. He was wary, untiring, vigilant, bold, and no federal trooper
ever went on picket without the feeling that this man might be close at
hand watching to take advantage of any moment of unwariness. He had been
known in broad daylight, to dash right into federal camps, where he was
outnumbered a hundred to one, and then make his escape through the
fleetness of his horses and his knowledge of the by-roads. On more than
one occasion, he had charged through a union column, disappearing on
one flank as quickly as he had appeared on the other. His men, in union
garb, were often in our camps mingling unsuspected with our men or
riding by their side when on the march.

We were prepared to see a large, fierce-looking dragoon but, instead,
beheld a small, mild-mannered man not at all like the ideal. But, though
small, he was wiry, active, restless and full of fire.

"How much do you weigh, colonel?" I asked as I shook his hand and looked
inquiringly at his rather slender figure.

"One hundred and twenty-eight pounds," said he.

"Well, judging from your fighting reputation, I looked for a two hundred
pounder, at least," I replied.

His spare form was se