splendid horse, with his sabre over his
head, calling his men to follow him. I had my sabre drawn, and I raised
it over his head, but did not have the heart to hit him. Somehow or
other, my arm would not obey me. It seemed too much like murder.

But Lieut. Armistead (an officer in my company) was not so
chicken-hearted, but spurred his horse, "Long Tom," up until his pistol
almost touched the officer, and shot him in the side. I saw him fall
from his horse, and afterward attempt to get up. Then I lost sight of
him. It was said to be Gen. Baker of the Union army, who was in command
of the forces making the attack. We took some prisoners, others in the
confusion, amid the dust and smoke, fled and escaped within their own
lines. Then there was a halt for an hour or more.

Several fresh regiments of our cavalry came up and took positions, ready
for attack or defence, whichever it might be.

What troubled our command was to know what was beyond that ridge. We
were afraid to move forward, for fear of running into ambush.

Presently we saw a magnificent sight. The colonel of the Fourth Virginia
Regiment, mounted on a beautiful black horse, moved forward, calling
upon his regiment to follow him. It was Colonel, afterward General,
Rosser.

As the regiment moved toward the enemy's lines, at a gallop, the cry
went up and down the ranks, "Look at Rosser, look at Rosser." Everybody
expected to see him tumble from his horse, shot to death. But he went
forward, leading his men, and when the enemy discovered that we were
coming in earnest, they turned on their heels and fled. Other regiments
followed in rapid succession, and when we had gotten on top of the ridge
we found that the enemy was disappearing in the distance as fast as
their flying horses could carry them. We afterward learned that their
stand at Brandy Station was only intended to check our forces until
theirs could get across the Rappahannock river, about three miles
distant.

After this fracas was over we began to look about us to see whether any
of us showed marks of the strife. I found a bullet hole through the
strap that held my sabre to my belt, and as the strap laid close to my
side, it was allowed to pass as a "close shave." But the greatest danger
I was in, I think, was from the sabre of Gen. Baker. A right cut from
that strong arm of his could have severed my head.

There was one of our command who was shot in the neck, and an artery
cut. The blood spurted