e shirt and a pair of light-checked trousers, and
was ready to discuss the events of the campaign with General Lindsay
Walker, who was also a guest of the house. About nine o'clock at night I
was joined by Dandridge, who had been met in the town by his mother and
sisters from "The Bower," and, with light hearts and full haversacks,
we set out for camp seven miles distant.

[Illustration: D. GARDINER TYLER]

The Ranson family has several times been mentioned in these pages, as
their home was a place where, when hungry, I was fed and, when naked,
clothed. The oldest son, Tom, now a lawyer in Staunton, Virginia, was my
schoolfellow and classmate at college when a boy in Lexington. After
receiving a wound at Cross Keys in June, 1862, when a lieutenant in the
Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, which incapacitated him for further
service in the infantry, he enlisted in the cavalry. By reason of his
familiarity with the topography of the country about Harper's Ferry and
the lower portion of the Valley, together with his indomitable pluck and
steady nerve, he was often employed as a scout, and in this capacity
frequently visited his home near Charlestown. The residence, situated,
as it was, a quarter of a mile from and overlooking the town, was
approached by a wide avenue leading by a gentle ascent to the front
gate, which stood about seventy-five yards from the house. Owing to the
commanding view thus afforded, it was a favorite place for a Federal
picket-post, so that, while a dangerous place for a rebel soldier to
venture, it offered many facilities for obtaining valuable information.
On one occasion young Ranson spent three days in this home while the
Federal pickets were on constant watch day and night at the front gate
opening into the lawn, and went in and out of the house at their
convenience. Moreover, the negro servants of the family knew of "Marse
Tom's" presence, but looked and acted negro ignorance to perfection when
catechised.

When standing at a front window one afternoon Tom saw a lady friend of
the family approaching the house from the town. On reaching the front
gate she, of course, was stopped by the sentinel and, after a parley,
refused admittance and required to retrace her steps. Two hours later,
much to their surprise, she appeared in the family-room and sank down
completely exhausted, having entered the house by a rear door, which she
had reached after making a detour of a mile or more to escape the
vig