As soon as the enemy’s response to the flag of truce had been received, Stuart advanced his sharp-shooters, replied with his artillery to their own, and dispatched a party to destroy the extensive United States barracks, formerly used as cantonments for recruits to the army. In ten minutes the buildings were wrapped in flames; and the city of Carlisle was illumined magnificently. The crimson light of the conflagration revealed every house, the long lines of trees, and made the delicate church spires, rising calmly aloft, resemble shafts of rose-tinted marble. I recall but one scene which was equally picturesque--the “doomed city” of Fredericksburg, on the night of December 11, 1862, when the church spires were illumined by the burning houses, as those of Carlisle were in June, 1863. So much for this new “Siege of Carlisle.” Here my description ends. It was nothing--a mere picture. An hour afterward Stuart ceased firing, the conflagration died down; back into the black night sank the fair town of Carlisle, seen then for the first and the last time by this historian. The guns were silent, the cavalry retired; and Stuart, accompanied by his staff, galloped back to a great deserted house where he established his temporary head-quarters. On the bold face there was an expression of decided ill-humor. He had just received a dispatch, by courier, from General Lee. That dispatch said, “Come, I need you urgently here,” and the “here” in question, was Gettysburg, at least twenty miles distant. Now, with worn-out men and horses, twenty miles was a serious matter. Stuart’s brows were knit, and he mused gloomily. Suddenly he turned and addressed me. “You were right, Surry,” he said, “those guns were at Gettysburg. This dispatch, sent this morning, reports the enemy near there.” I bowed; Stuart reflected for some moments without speaking. Then he suddenly said:-- “I wish you would go to General Lee, and say I am coming, Surry. How is your horse?” “Worn-out, general, but I can get another.” “Good; tell General Lee that I will move at once to Gettysburg, with all my force, and as rapidly as possible!” “I will lose no time, general.” And saluting, I went out. From the captured horses I selected the best one I could find, and burying the spurs in his sides, set out through the black night. XX. THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLISLE AND GETTYSBURG. You know when you set out, the proverb says, but you know not when you will arrive. I left Carlisle, breasting the night, on the road to Gettysburg, little thinking that a curious incident was to occur to me upon the way--an incident closely connected with the destinies of some personages who play prominent parts in this history.