Stuart is regarded by many as only a brave “raider.” It was on occasions like this, however, that he performed his greatest services. Everywhere he confronted the enemy in stubborn battle; and the work was hard. It was fighting, fighting, fighting--now, as in 1862, when he covered Lee’s retreat after Sharpsburg. Day and night the cavalry had no rest. The crack of carbines, the clash of sabres, and the roar of cannon were incessant. It was a war of giants which Fauquier and Loudoun saw in those days--and not until the rear of Lee’s column had nearly reached the Potomac, did General Hooker by a desperate effort succeed in driving Stuart back. In these pages I must leave that obstinate struggle undescribed. It was full of romantic scenes, and illustrated by daring courage: but all is lost to view in the lurid smoke of Gettysburg. With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pass to greater events. But first, I beg to introduce to the reader a very singular personage, who is destined to play an important part in the history I am writing. XI. NIGHTHAWK. It was the night of the 20th of June, 1863. Stuart’s head-quarters had been established in a house on the roadside above Middleburg. We had been fighting all day; had returned only at nightfall: and I was exchanging a few words with Stuart, before following the staff to rest, when all at once a third personage, who seemed to have arisen from the floor, stood before us. His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I looked at him, curiously. He was a man of about forty, thin, wiry, and with a nose resembling the beak of a bird of prey. His eyes, half buried under bushy eyebrows, twinkled like two stars. His mouth was large and smiling; his expression exceedingly benignant. From the face I passed to the costume. The worthy was clad in severe black, with a clerical white cravat: wore a black beaver hat of the “stove-pipe” order; and presented the appearance of a pious and peaceable civilian--almost that of a clergyman, smiling benignantly upon all around him. Stuart uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. “Ah! Nighthawk, here you are!” he said. And turning to me he introduced the new comer as “Mr. Nighthawk, one of my ‘private friends,’ and true as steel.” Mr. Nighthawk bowed with an air of smiling respect--of benignant sweetness. “I am glad to know you, colonel, and hope I may have an opportunity of being of service to you some day,” he said. The voice was low, soft, and accorded with the mild expression of the countenance. “Well, what news, Nighthawk?” asked Stuart; “experience tells me that you have something of importance to communicate?” “Ah, general!” “Yes. You pass in the cavalry by the name of the ‘man before the battle,’ for you always turn up then.” Mr. Nighthawk smiled. “I try to give you information, general; and perhaps I have some news. But first of my visits to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, where I saw many of our friends.”