, the life or
liberty of the union soldier caught outside the lines had been worth not
a rush, unless backed by force enough to hold its own against an enemy.
There never had been a time since our advent into this land of the
philistines (a land literally flowing with milk and honey) when we could
go to Millwood without a fight, and here we were going without
molestation, right into the lair of the most redoubtable of all the
partisan leaders.

But Mosby's word was law in that section. His fiat had gone forth that
there was to be a truce, and no union men were to be molested until it
should be declared off. There was, therefore, no one to molest or make
us afraid. No picket challenged. Not a scout or vidette was seen. The
country might have been deserted, for all the indications of life that
could be heard or seen. The environment seemed funereal and the ride
could hardly be described as a cheerful one. Each one was busy with his
own thoughts. All wondered if the end had really come, or was it yet
afar off? Lee had surrendered but Johnson had not. Would he?

The chief interest, for the time being, however, centered in the coming
interview with Mosby, under a flag of truce. If he could be prevailed
upon to take the parole there would not be an armed confederate in that
part of Virginia.

It had been expected that he would be there first but he was not and his
arrival was eagerly awaited. The escort was massed near a large farm
house, the owner of which was very hospitable and had arranged to give
the two commands a dinner.

The officers were soon dispersed in easy attitudes about the porches and
lawn or under the shade of friendly trees, smoking and chatting about
the interesting situation. Eager glances were cast in the direction from
which our old foe was expected to come, and there was some anxiety lest
he should fail to meet the appointment after all. But, at length, when
the forenoon was pretty well spent, the sound of a bugle was heard. All
sprang to their feet. In a moment, the head of a column of mounted men
emerged from a woody screen on the high ground, toward the east, as
though coming straight out of the mountain, and presently, the whole
body of gray troopers came into view.

It was a gallant sight, a thrilling scene, for all the world like a
picture from one of Walter Scott's novels; and to the imagination,
seemed a vision of William Wallace or of Rob Roy. The place itself was a
picturesque one--a lit