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Markham (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
ainst him, he retreated to his mountain fastnesses — not a trace of his existence could be found. If the force was small, he attacked and nearly always cut to pieces or captured it. With his headquarters near Piedmont Station, on the Manassas railroad, east of the Ridge, he knew by his scouts of any movement; then couriers were seen going at full gallop to summon the men, scattered among the mountain spurs, or waiting at remote houses in the woods, to the previously specified rendezvous-at Markham's, Upperville, Paris, Oak Grove, or elsewhere; then Mosby set out; and he nearly always came back with spoils — that is to say, arms, horses, and prisoners. In November, 1864, this state of things had become intolerable. Early had been forced to retire — that wolf with the sharp claws; but Mosby, the veritable wildcat, still lingered in the country as dangerous as ever. Immense indignation was experienced by the enemy at this persistent defiance; and an additional circumstance at this<
Mississippi (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
to draw an outline of the person and character of this brave gentleman-Captain Mountjoy-many readers, we are sure, would derive pleasure from the perusal of our sketch. Never was a braver heart than his-never a more refined and admirable breeding. Gallantlooking, cool, courteous, with his calm sad face overshadowed by the drooping hat with its golden cord; wearing sword and pistol like a trained cavalryman; not cast down by reverses, not elated by success — a splendid type of the great Mississippi race from which he sprung, and a gentleman every inch of him. Mountjoy's was a face, a figure, and a bearing which attracted the eyes of all who admire in men the evidences of culture, resolution, and honour. But this is not the place to record the virtures of that brave true heart, gone now with many others to a land where war never comes. We proceed to record the incident which we have referred to. It occurred, as we have said, in November, 1864, and the scene was a mansion perch
Oak Grove (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
mountain fastnesses — not a trace of his existence could be found. If the force was small, he attacked and nearly always cut to pieces or captured it. With his headquarters near Piedmont Station, on the Manassas railroad, east of the Ridge, he knew by his scouts of any movement; then couriers were seen going at full gallop to summon the men, scattered among the mountain spurs, or waiting at remote houses in the woods, to the previously specified rendezvous-at Markham's, Upperville, Paris, Oak Grove, or elsewhere; then Mosby set out; and he nearly always came back with spoils — that is to say, arms, horses, and prisoners. In November, 1864, this state of things had become intolerable. Early had been forced to retire — that wolf with the sharp claws; but Mosby, the veritable wildcat, still lingered in the country as dangerous as ever. Immense indignation was experienced by the enemy at this persistent defiance; and an additional circumstance at this time came to add fuel to the f<
Front Royal (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
ch by some negligence had been left upon his person, he fired upon his guard. The bullet missed its aim-and the guard firing in turn, blew out Lieutenant Cole's brains. A singular coincidence comes to the writer's memory here. The mother of the young ladies whose adventures are here related, had on this day gone to attend the funeral of young Carlisle Whiting at the Old Chapel some miles distant. Young Whiting had been killed by a Federal prisoner, whom he was conducting south, near Front Royal. The prisoner's pistol had been overlooked; he drew it suddenly, and fired upon his guard, the bullet inflicting a mortal wound. At nightfall the Federal troops had torn the house to pieces, taken all which they could not destroy, and had vanished. Mountjoy had succeeded in getting off with his men. At six o'clock on the next morning poor Braxton breathed his last, still holding the hand of the young lady, which seemed to be all by which he had clung to life. Then a strange and
Virginia (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
of the Federal arms, the Federal authorities conceived the design of ferreting out and crushing in the same manner the band of the celebrated bandit Mosby — which result once achieved by the commander of the Middle Department, the whole of Northern Virginia would be reduced under the sway of the Stars and Stripes. To ferret out Colonel Mosby was a difficult task, however; and to crush him had, up to this time, proved an undertaking beyond the ability of the best partisans of the Federal ar or bad year 1864, on the border, things were different. There were no equipages — no lace handkerchiefs --no satin, and rosewood, and silver — not even a coffin. In the midst of their grief for the loss of that brave soldier of one of the old Virginia families, their connexions, the young Confederate girls were met by this sudden obstacle-by this gross, material question, this brutal difficulty — where shall a coffin for the dead be procured? There lay the dead body pale, cold, terrible-how
Millwood (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
. It occurred, as we have said, in November, 1864, and the scene was a mansion perched upon a hill, with a background of woods, between the little village of Millwood and the Shenandoah. This house was well known to Mosby, well known to many hundreds of Confederate soldiers, who-God be thanked! --never left its door without ffords, he permitted, first one, then another, then whole squads of his men to cross to their homes east of the Ridge, so that on reaching a point nearly opposite Millwood, he had with him only fifteen men guarding the numerous horses and prisoners. Then came the hostile fate-close on his heels. The attack made by him upon the The body, still in its rude coffin, was lifted into a vehicle; some hasty words were exchanged with the young ladies, for a large force of the enemy was near Millwood within sight, a mile or two across the fields; then the shadowy procession of horsemen moved; their measured hoof-strokes resounded, gradually dying away; the co
Paris (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
d to his mountain fastnesses — not a trace of his existence could be found. If the force was small, he attacked and nearly always cut to pieces or captured it. With his headquarters near Piedmont Station, on the Manassas railroad, east of the Ridge, he knew by his scouts of any movement; then couriers were seen going at full gallop to summon the men, scattered among the mountain spurs, or waiting at remote houses in the woods, to the previously specified rendezvous-at Markham's, Upperville, Paris, Oak Grove, or elsewhere; then Mosby set out; and he nearly always came back with spoils — that is to say, arms, horses, and prisoners. In November, 1864, this state of things had become intolerable. Early had been forced to retire — that wolf with the sharp claws; but Mosby, the veritable wildcat, still lingered in the country as dangerous as ever. Immense indignation was experienced by the enemy at this persistent defiance; and an additional circumstance at this time came to add fuel<
Fauquier (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
icers, in command of considerable bodies of picked men, had been sent into the wilds of the Blue Ridge, or to Mosby's - Confederacy that is to say, the county of Fauquier--to waylay and destroy or capture this wily foe who had so long eluded them. All had failed. Mosby refused to be captured or destroyed. If a large force caroad by which the Federal army was supplied. These stirring adventures are the subject of a volume which will soon appear from the accomplished Major Scott, of Fauquier. The object of this chapter is to record the particulars of one of the fights referred to, in which a small band of Confederates under Captain Mountjoy, that acfor a large force of the enemy was near Millwood within sight, a mile or two across the fields; then the shadowy procession of horsemen moved; their measured hoof-strokes resounded, gradually dying away; the corpse was borne through the river, ascended the mountain-and at sunrise the dead man was sleeping in the soil of Fauquier.
Old Chapel (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
while being conducted across the Blue Ridge thought that he discovered an opportunity to escape. Drawing his pistol, which by some negligence had been left upon his person, he fired upon his guard. The bullet missed its aim-and the guard firing in turn, blew out Lieutenant Cole's brains. A singular coincidence comes to the writer's memory here. The mother of the young ladies whose adventures are here related, had on this day gone to attend the funeral of young Carlisle Whiting at the Old Chapel some miles distant. Young Whiting had been killed by a Federal prisoner, whom he was conducting south, near Front Royal. The prisoner's pistol had been overlooked; he drew it suddenly, and fired upon his guard, the bullet inflicting a mortal wound. At nightfall the Federal troops had torn the house to pieces, taken all which they could not destroy, and had vanished. Mountjoy had succeeded in getting off with his men. At six o'clock on the next morning poor Braxton breathed his last
Piedmont, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.46
had been sent into the wilds of the Blue Ridge, or to Mosby's - Confederacy that is to say, the county of Fauquier--to waylay and destroy or capture this wily foe who had so long eluded them. All had failed. Mosby refused to be captured or destroyed. If a large force came against him, he retreated to his mountain fastnesses — not a trace of his existence could be found. If the force was small, he attacked and nearly always cut to pieces or captured it. With his headquarters near Piedmont Station, on the Manassas railroad, east of the Ridge, he knew by his scouts of any movement; then couriers were seen going at full gallop to summon the men, scattered among the mountain spurs, or waiting at remote houses in the woods, to the previously specified rendezvous-at Markham's, Upperville, Paris, Oak Grove, or elsewhere; then Mosby set out; and he nearly always came back with spoils — that is to say, arms, horses, and prisoners. In November, 1864, this state of things had become in
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