down upon his long beard
and clothes, he was made a prisoner. In a similar charge the gallant
Captain Ulric Dahlgren lost a leg, though not his valuable life.

It appeared as though the Rebels were afforded an opportunity to avenge
themselves in part for the shameful losses which they had sustained in
this very place by the strategic operations of a Union scout, by the
name of C. A. Phelps, during the incipient step of the invasion. We will
let the scout relate his own story, which is corroborated by a
signal-officer, who, from one of the lofty peaks of the mountains,
witnessed the exciting denouement. The scout proceeds to say:

"I was very anxious to learn all about General Stuart's force and
contemplated movements, and resolved to see the general himself or some
of his staff-officers, soon after he entered Hagerstown.

"Accordingly I procured of a Union man a suit of raglings, knocked off
one boot-heel to make one leg appear shorter than the other, and put a
gimblet, a tow-string, and an old broken jack-knife in my pockets. My
jewelry corresponded with my clothes. I adopted the name of George Fry,
a harvest-hand of Dr. Farney, from Wolfetown, on the north side of the
mountain, and I was a cripple from rheumatism. Having completed
arrangements with Dr. Farney, Mr. Landers, and other Union men, that
they might be of service to me in case the Rebels should be suspicious
of my character, I hobbled away on my perilous journey, and entered the
city by leaping the high stone wall which guards it on the north side
near the depot. This occurred just as the town-clock struck one.

"It was a clear, starlight night, and the glistening sabres of the
sentries could be seen as they walked their lonely beat. Scarcely had I
gained the sidewalk leading to the centre of the town when the sentry
nearest me cried, 'Halt! who goes there?' 'A friend,' I replied.

"'A friend to North or South?'

"'To the South, of course, and all right.'

"'Advance, then,' was the response. On reaching him, he asked me what
could be my business at this hour of the night. I told him I had come in
to see our brave boys, who could whip the Yankees so handsomely, as they
had done especially at Bull Run and Chancellorsville. We fell at once to
the discussion of the war-questions of the day. In the midst of our
colloquy up came the officer of the guard on his 'grand rounds,' who,
after probing me thoroughly, as he thought, with many questions, finally
sai