The paper was signed by a personage of high position in the government, and was stamped with the seal of the department over which he presided. There could be no doubt of the genuineness of the paper. The worthy Mr. Swartz loomed up before me in the novel and unexpected light of a _Confederate_ emissary! I read the paper aloud to Nighthawk, and pointed to the official signature and seal. Nighthawk uttered a groan, and his chin sank upon his breast. That spectacle seemed to excite the sympathy of his friend. “There, my dear Nighthawk,” said Mr. Swartz, in a feeling tone, “don’t take the blow too much to heart. I have beaten you, this game, and your hands are tied at present. But I swear that I will meet you, and produce that paper.” “When?” murmured Nighthawk. “In three days from this time.” “Where?” “At the house of our friend Alibi, near Monk’s Neck, in Dinwiddie.” “On your word?” “On the word of Swartz!” “That is enough, my dear Swartz; I will be at Alibi’s, when we will come to terms. And now, pardon this visit, which has put you to so much inconvenience. I was merely jesting, my dear friend, when I spoke of arresting you. Arrest you! Nothing could induce me to think of so unfriendly a proceeding. And now, good night, my dear friend. I will return with you, colonel.” With which words Nighthawk saluted his “friend,” and we returned toward the upper part of the city. Such were the scenes of a night in the summer of 1864. XII. THE GRAVE OF STUART. On the next morning a piece of good fortune befell me. In spite of continued visits to the war-office, and an amount of importunity which must have been exceedingly annoying to the gentlemen of the red tape, I found myself, at the end of August, apparently no nearer to an “assignment to duty” than at first. It really seemed that the Confederate States had no need of my services; that the privilege of performing military duty in behalf of the Government was one jealously guarded, and not to be lightly bestowed upon any one. I was in despair, and was revolving the project of resigning my empty commission, and enlisting in the cavalry as a private soldier, when the _deus ex machinâ_ to extricate me from all my troubles, appeared in the person of Colonel P-----, of army head-quarters.