drew sword, as noble and true a Christian as ever endured
persecution and showed patience. They are discussing a plan for crossing
the river in boats, landing at a causeway where the Alexandria road
crosses Four Mile Run, and so cutting off the impudent picket of the
enemy's cavalry that holds post at the Virginia end of the Long Bridge.
The battalion commanders are evidently dazzled by the brilliancy of the
moonlight and the colonel's scheme, for it soon becomes apparent that
they haven't the pluck and dash necessary to render such an operation
successful. Even we young soldiers, intent upon the awful idea of
resurrecting Washington's bones, and little dreaming then of becoming
the pioneers of the great invasion, could see the hitch. Presently the
major got a definite order, and beckoning to us of the battalion staff,
began to cross the bridge. Dusky bodies of troops, their arms glistening
in the moonlight, had been silently gliding past us while the discussion
progressed. Most of them seemed to have halted on the bridge, we found
as we passed on, and to have squatted down in the shade of the parapet,
gassing, smoking, or napping. It was nearly midnight. We had got to the
middle of the causeway, and found ourselves alone, bathed in silence and
moonlight and wonder, when up dashed a horseman from the direction of
the Virginia side. He stopped, and peered at us over his horse's neck.
'O'Malley, is that you?' says the major, seeing it is an Irish officer
belonging to Colonel Diamond's staff. 'Yes,' says the captain, 'and who
the devil are you?' 'Major Heavysterne. Won't you please ride back and
send my battalion forward? You'll find the boys standing on the draw.
Cap'n Bopp, of the Fisler Guards, is the senior officer, I believe.' But
the Irishman was off, with an oath at the major's stupidity in
forgetting to order his men forward. Presently the battalion came
creeping up, silently enough, I thought, but the adjutant made the
excuse of a casual 'ouch' from a man on whose heels Hrsthzschnoffski
had casually trodden, to shriek out his favorite 'Stop 'at talken'!' 'Do
you command this battalion?' asks Captain Pipes, sternly; and
straightway there would have been a dire altercation, but for the
major's gentle interference. The bridge began to sway and roar under our
steps. We were on the draw. Clinging to the theory of Washington's
bones, I peered over the draw, in the hope of seeing a steamer; there
was nothing there but the