anny of the land. They move like a whirlwind
and deal in surprises--

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold--

Only these cohorts are grey, not purple and gold. That's Ashby. On the
other hand, Jackson at Winchester need not, perhaps, be taken into
account. The general impression is that he'll stay where he is until
spring. I managed to extract some information from a mountain man above
Sleepy Creek. Jackson is drilling his men from daylight until dark. It
is said that he is crazy on the subject--on most subjects, in fact; that
he thinks himself a Cromwell, and is bent upon turning his troops into
Ironsides. Of course, should General Banks make any movement to
cross--preparatory, say, to joining with General Kelly--Jackson might
swing out of Winchester and give him check. Otherwise, he'll probably
keep on drilling--"

"The winter's too far advanced," said the colonel, "for any such
movement upon our part. As soon as it is spring we'll go over there and
trample out this rebellion." He weighed Kelly's letter once more in his
hand, then restored it to the bearer. "It's all right, Lieutenant
McNeill. I'll pass you through.--You read Byron?"

"Yes," said Lieutenant McNeill briefly. "He's a great poet. 'Don Juan,'
now, and Suvaroff at Ismail--

He made no answer, but he took the city.

The bivouac, too, in Mazeppa." He restored General Kelly's letter and
the accompanying slip to his wallet. "Thank you, sir. If I am to make
Frederick before bedtime I had better be going--"

"An aide of General Banks," remarked the colonel, "is here, and is
returning to Frederick this afternoon. He is an Englishman, I believe,
of birth. You might ride together--Very opportunely; here he is!"

A tall, blond being, cap-a-pie for the road, had loomed in dark blue
before the tent door. "Captain Marchmont," said the colonel, "let me
make you acquainted with Lieutenant McNeill, a _loyal_ Virginian bearing
a letter from General Kelly to General Banks--a gentleman with a taste,
too, for your great poet Byron. As you are both riding to Frederick, you
may find it pleasant to ride in company."

"I must ride rapidly," said McNeill, "but if Captain Marchmont--"

"I always ride rapidly," answered the captain. "Learned it in Texas in
1843. At your service, lieutenant, whenever you're ready."

The road to Frederick lay clear over hill and dale, past forest and
stream, through a gap in the mountain, by mill and barn