I thought you might like to know, being as you are a Union soldier, that the young lady you have been paying so much attention to is a secesh sympathizer and has a brother with Mosby the rebel guerilla. A word to the wise is sufficient. “JOE YARDSLEY.” Of course I am not giving the real name that was signed but it will answer for the purpose of this article. Pete called the darkey, gave him a quarter and said, “You can go and tell Joe Yardsley that I said that if he was half a man he would be with Sue’s brother. Tell him that I think he is a sneak and a coward and if he will come over in the grove about 5 o’clock this afternoon I will slap his face.” The darkey showed his white teeth, scratched his head and digging his big toe in the sand said, “I reckon I bettah not tole dat to Joe. Dem Yardsleys got a powerful temper, dey hab, an’ dey boss all de young fellahs’ roun’ yere.” “All right, Sam,” said Pete, “You tell him just what I told you.” That afternoon Pete and Sue were inseparable. They made themselves conspicuous everywhere. The darkey brought Pete another note during the day and it simply said, “I will meet you in the grove. J. Y.” Of course all of us boys went over with Pete and the Marylander brought three companions. The two principals stripped to the waist and I confess I was fearful of the result when I saw how much larger Pete’s antagonist was than he. When they got the word Yardsley made a spring at Pete who dropped his head and butted the big fellow below the wind and slid him over his back. He got up and came furiously at our Pete again. But he knew a lot of Bowery tricks and quick as a flash stepped aside, caught him around the neck, whirled him around and threw him, slapped his face smartly and then let him up. The fellow rushed at Pete again, who now thought it about time to quit fooling, and he landed a good hard blow on the fellow’s nose and mouth which staggered him and made the blood fly. The spectators on both sides thought that the affair had gone far enough and called for a cessation of hostilities. Pete offered to shake hands with his antagonist, but he declined and went away muttering threats. That evening we started for our Virginia camp in a large carry-all accompanied by a bevy of young people on horseback. They rode with us a couple of miles and then bade us good night and good bye, and as we drove away we heard them singing, “Maryland, My Maryland.” When I sat down to write of my old comrade it was to tell of two deeds of heroism performed by him and not of his adventures at a country fair, but when I unrolled my knapsack of war memories, the incidents narrated came tumbling out with the rest so I have jotted them down. A HERO OF WAR AT COLD HARBOR.