The fight at Flipper's Orchard preceded that at Brandy Station by more than a month, having occurred on the Fourth of July. The Troy company of the Harris Light had been ordered, about eight o'clock in the morning of that day, to reconnoitre the Telegraph Road, south of Fredericksburg. Leaving camp, they soon came in sight of a detachment of Bath cavalry on patrol duty, escorting the Richmond mail. They learned the strength of the enemy from some colored people along the route, and also the probability that they would halt at Flipper's Orchard for refreshments. This place was on the south bank of the Po River, some twenty miles from Fredericksburg, in an angle formed by the roads leading to Bull Church and the Rappahannock. After following them for several hours, the company halted for consultation, "and," says Glazier, "our lieutenant put the question to vote, whether we should go on and capture the foe, about one hundred strong, or return to camp. The vote was unanimous for battle. I was in charge of the advance guard, having a squad of four men, and received orders to strike a gallop. Just as we came within sight of the Orchard, we saw the Confederates dismounting and making leisurely arrangements for their repast. Dashing spurs into our horses' flanks, we wheeled round the corner and along the Bull Church Road, sweeping down upon them with tremendous clatter. 'Here they are, boys!' I shouted; 'bring up the brigade!' We were about forty in number, but surprised them completely, and they fled panic-stricken. Twelve men and nine horses were captured. On reaching Dr. Flipper's house, I noticed a dismounted Confederate officer who, with others, was running across a wheat-field. I started in hot pursuit, jumping my horse over a six-rail fence to reach him. He fired upon me with both carbine and revolver, but missed his mark, and by this time I stood over him with my navy-revolver, demanding his surrender. He gave up his arms and equipments, which were speedily transferred to my own person. We made quick work of the fight, the whole affair lasting not longer than fifteen minutes. The Confederate reserves were only a short distance off at Bull Church, and we hurried back with our spoils towards the Rappahannock, fearful that we might be overtaken. My prisoner, as I afterward learned, was Lieutenant Powell, in command of the patrol. His revolver has a story of its own. It was a beautiful silver-mounted weapon, and I resolved to keep possession of it as my especial trophy, instead of turning it over to the Quartermaster's Department. This was not an easy matter, as vigilant eyes were on the look-out for all 'munitions of war captured from the enemy,' which were consigned to a common receptacle. I therefore dug a hole in the ground of our tent and buried my treasure, where it remained until we changed our encampment. One day, some time after, I carelessly left it lying on a log, a short distance from camp, and on returning found it gone.