A charming reception awaited him. The place was thoroughly Southern; and the passage of the cavalry was greeted with loud cheers. Unbounded was the delight, above all, of a seminary of young girls. Doors and windows were crowded: bright eyes shone; red lips laughed; waving handkerchiefs were seen everywhere; and when Stuart appeared in person, he was received with wild rejoicing. He bowed low, removing his plumed hat, but suddenly intelligence came which forced him to push on. A long train of “government” wagons had come up from Washington, and on discovering our presence, returned toward the city at a gallop. But the ferocious rebels were after them. Stuart led the charging column--the warlike teamsters were soon halted--the trains became our spoil--and with countless kicking mules driven onward in droves before them, the cavalry, escorting the captured wagons, continued their way toward Pennsylvania. Moving all that night, Stuart came to Westminster, where Fitz Lee, the gallant, drove the enemy’s cavalry from their camp, and the town fell into the hands of Stuart. Here scowls instead of smiles greeted us. Every face was glum and forbidding, with a few exceptions. So we hastened to depart from that “loyal” town, and were soon on the soil of Pennsylvania. Approaching Hanover we suddenly waked up the hornets. Chambliss, leading Stuart’s advance, pushed ahead and drove in a picket. Then that brave soldier rushed on, and seemed intent on taking the place, when I was sent by Stuart to order him “not to go too far.” I came up with Chambliss as he was charging, but had scarcely given him the order, when he was charged in turn by a heavy force and driven back. The enemy rushed on, firing volleys, and the road was full of tramping horsemen. To avoid being carried away with them, I diverged into a field, when all at once Stuart appeared, retreating at full gallop before a party who were chasing him. It was a serious matter then, but I laugh now, remembering that “good run.” Stuart and myself retreated at a gallop, boot to boot; leaped ditches and fences; and got off in safety. A few moments afterward his artillery opened its thunders. From the lofty hill, that hardy captain of the horse artillery, Breathed, roared obstinately, driving them back. Hampton’s guns on the right had opened too--and until night, we held the heights, repulsing every advance of the enemy. It was truly a fine spectacle, that handsome town of Hanover as I looked at it, on the afternoon of the fair June day. In front extended green fields; then the church spires rose above the roofs of the town; behind, a range of mountains formed a picturesque background. It is true, the adjuncts of the scene were far from peaceful. The green fields were full of blue sharp-shooters; in the suburbs were posted batteries; down the mountain road behind, wound a long compact column of cavalry.