The cavalry pressed forward without halting and reached the hills above James City--a magniloquent name, but the “city” was a small affair--a mere village nestling down amid an amphitheatre of hills. On the opposite range we saw the enemy’s cavalry drawn up; and, as we afterward learned, commanded by General Kilpatrick. They presented a handsome spectacle in the gay autumn sunshine; but we did not attack them. Stuart’s orders were to protect the march of Ewell from observation; and this he accomplished by simply holding the Federal cavalry at arm’s-length. So a demonstration only was made. Skirmishers advanced, and engaged the enemy. The whole day thus passed in apparent failure to drive the Federals. A single incident marked the day. Stuart had taken his position, with his staff and couriers, on a hill. Here, with his battle-flag floating, he watched the skirmishers,--and then gradually, the whole party, stretched on the grass, began to doze. They were to have a rude waking. I was lying, holding my bridle, half asleep, when an earthquake seemed to open beneath me. A crash like thunder accompanied it. I rose quickly, covered with dust. A glance explained the whole. The enemy had directed a gun upon the tempting group over which the flag rose, and the percussion-shell had fallen and burst in our midst. Strangest of all, no one was hurt. Stuart laughed, and mounted his horse. “A good shot!” he said, “look at Surry’s hat!” which, on examination, I found covered half an inch deep with earth. In fact, the shell had burst within three feet of my head--was a “line shot,” and with a little more elevation, would have just reached me. Then, exit Surry! in a most unmilitary manner, by the bursting of a percussion-shell. At nightfall the enemy was still in position, and Stuart had not advanced. We spent the night at a farm-house, and were in the saddle again at dawn. The hills opposite were deserted. The enemy had retreated. Stuart pushed on their track down the Sperryville road, passed the village of Griffinsburg, and near Stonehouse Mountain came on, and pushed them rapidly back on Culpeper Court-House. All at once quick firing was heard on our right. “What is that?” Stuart asked. “An infantry regiment, general!” said Weller, one of our couriers, galloping quickly up. The words acted upon Stuart like the blow of a sword. A wild excitement seemed to seize him. “Bring up a squadron!” he shouted--for we were riding ahead without support; “bring up the cavalry! I am going to charge! Bring me a squadron!” And drawing his sword, Stuart rushed at full gallop, alone and unattended, toward the Federal infantry, whose gun-barrels were seen glittering in the woods. Never had I seen him more excited. He was plainly on fire with the idea of capturing the whole party. The staff scattered to summon the cavalry, and soon a company came on at full gallop. It was the “Jefferson Company,” under that brave officer, Captain George Baylor.