In these pages I must leave that obstinate struggle undescribed. It was
full of romantic scenes, and illustrated by daring courage: but all is
lost to view in the lurid smoke of Gettysburg.
With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pass to greater events.
But first, I beg to introduce to the reader a very singular personage,
who is destined to play an important part in the history I am writing.
XI.
NIGHTHAWK.
It was the night of the 20th of June, 1863. Stuart's head-quarters had
been established in a house on the roadside above Middleburg.
We had been fighting all day; had returned only at nightfall: and I was
exchanging a few words with Stuart, before following the staff to rest,
when all at once a third personage, who seemed to have arisen from the
floor, stood before us.
His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I looked
at him, curiously.
He was a man of about forty, thin, wiry, and with a nose resembling the
beak of a bird of prey. His eyes, half buried under bushy eyebrows,
twinkled like two stars. His mouth was large and smiling; his
expression exceedingly benignant. From the face I passed to the
costume. The worthy was clad in severe black, with a clerical white
cravat: wore a black beaver hat of the "stove-pipe" order; and
presented the appearance of a pious and peaceable civilian--almost that
of a clergyman, smiling benignantly upon all around him.
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