Major McClellan, adjutant-general, had been sent to
General Bragg, with a suggestion that the latter should attack from the
direction of the city, at the moment when the cavalry assailed the
Federal flank. All was ready.
It was the morning of May 11th, 1864.
Never was scene more beautiful and inspiring. The men were jaded, like
their horses; but no heart shrank from the coming encounter. Stretching
in a thin line from the tavern into the woods on the right of the
Mountain road, the men sat their horses, with drawn sabres gleaming in
the sun; and the red battle-flags waved proudly in the fresh May
breeze, as though saluting Stuart, who rode in front of them.
Such was the scene at Yellow Tavern. The moment had come. At about
eight, a stifled hum, mixed with the tramp of hoofs, was heard. Then a
courier came at a gallop, from the right, to Stuart. The enemy were in
sight, and advancing rapidly.
Stuart was sitting his horse near Yellow Tavern when that intelligence
reached him. He rose in his saddle, took his field-glasses from their
leathern case, and looked through them in the direction of the woods
across the Mountain road.
Suddenly, quick firing came on the wind--then, loud shouts. Stuart
lowered his glasses, shut them up, replaced them in their case, and
drew his sabre.
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