I had been received by my old friends of the cavalry with every mark of cordial regard. General Hampton, General Lee, and the various officers and men whom I had known as a staff-officer of General Stuart, seemed to welcome the sight of a face which, perhaps, reminded them of their dead leader; and I had pressed all these warm hands, and received these friendly greetings not without emotion--for I, too, was carried back to the past. I saw Mordaunt and Davenant, but not Mohun--he was absent, visiting his picket line. Mordaunt was the same stately soldier--his grave and friendly voice greeted me warmly as in old days; and Willie Davenant, now a major, commanding a battalion of horse artillery, shook hands with me, as shy and blushing as before--and even more sad. “How had his suit prospered? Were things more encouraging?” I asked him these questions with a laugh, apologizing for my intrusion. He assured me sadly that it was not in the least an intrusion; but that he had not seen the person to whom I alluded, for many months. And executing a blush which would have become a girl, this young tiger of the horse artillery--for such he always proved himself, in a fight--hastened to change the subject. Soon afterward I took my departure, turned my horse’s head toward Petersburg, and set out at a round trot between the walls of pine. It was dusk when I reached the debouchment of the “military road,” and, tired and hungry, I was contemplating ruefully the long ride still before me, when rapid hoof-strokes behind me attracted my attention, and, turning my head, I recognized the bold figure of Mohun. He was mounted on a fine animal, and came at full speed. In a moment he had caught up, recognized, and we exchanged a warm grasp of the hand. “I am delighted to see you, Surry. I thought you had deserted us, old fellow. The sight of you is a treat!” “And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming.” Indeed, Mohun had never presented a better appearance, with his dark eyes; his tanned and glowing cheeks; his raven mustached lips, which, parting with a smile, showed white and regular teeth. He was the picture of a gallant soldier; all his old melancholy and cynical bitterness gone, as mist is swept away by the morning sunshine. “You are positively dazzling, Mohun. Where are you going, and what has happened to you? Ah!--I begin to understand!” And pointing northward, I said:-- “Five Forks is not far from here, is it?” Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter. “You are right, old friend! It is impossible to hide any thing from you.” “And a friend of yours is there--whom you are going to see?”