part in the campaign altogether. Colonel John S. Mosby had for a long

time been commanding a partisan corps, or regiment, which operated in

the rear of the Army of the Potomac. On my return to the field on this

occasion, as the train approached Warrenton Junction, a heavy cloud of

dust was seen to the east of the road as if made by a body of cavalry on

a charge. Arriving at the junction the train was stopped and inquiries

made as to the cause of the dust. There was but one man at the station,

and he informed us that Mosby had crossed a few minutes before at full

speed in pursuit of Federal cavalry. Had he seen our train coming, no

doubt he would have let his prisoners escape to capture the train. I

was on a special train, if I remember correctly, without any guard.

Since the close of the war I have come to know Colonel Mosby personally,

and somewhat intimately. He is a different man entirely from what I had

supposed. He is slender, not tall, wiry, and looks as if he could

endure any amount of physical exercise. He is able, and thoroughly

honest and truthful. There were probably but few men in the South who

could have commanded successfully a separate detachment in the rear of

an opposing army, and so near the border of hostilities, as long as he

did without losing his entire command.

On this same visit to Washington I had my last interview with the

President before reaching the James River. He had of course become

acquainted with the fact that a general movement had been ordered all

along the line, and seemed to think it a new feature in war. I

explained to him that it was necessary to have a great number of troops

to guard and hold the territory we had captured, and to prevent

incursions into the Northern States. These troops could perform this

service just as well by advancing as by remaining still; and by

advancing they would compel the enemy to keep detachments to hold them

back, or else lay his own territory open to invasion. His answer was:

"Oh, yes! I see that. As we say out West, if a man can't skin he must

hold a leg while somebody else does."

There was a certain incident connected with the Wilderness campaign of

which it may not be out of place to speak; and to avoid a digression

further on I will mention it here.

A few days before my departure from Culpeper the Honorable E. B.

Washburne visited me there, and remained with my headquarters for some

distance south, through the battle in the Wilderness and, I think, to

Spottsylvania. He was accompanied by a Mr. Swinton, whom he presented as

a literary gentleman who wished to accompany the army with a view of

writing a history of the war when it was over. He assured me--and I

have no doubt Swinton gave him the assurance--that he was not present as

a correspondent of the press. I expressed an entire willingness to have

him (Swinton) accompany the army, and would have allowed him to do so as

a correspondent, restricted, however, in the character of the

information he could give. We received Richmond papers with about as

much regularity as if there had been no war, and knew that our papers

were received with equal regularity by the Confederates. It was

desirable, therefore, that correspondents should not be privileged spies

of the enemy within our lines.

Probably Mr. Swinton expected to be an invited guest at my headquarters,

and was disappointed that he was not asked to become so. At all events

he was not invited, and soon I found that he was corresponding with some

paper (I have now forgotten which one), thus violating his word either

expressed or implied. He knew of the assurance Washburne had given as

to the character of his mission. I never saw the man from the day of

our introduction to the present that I recollect. He accompanied us,

however, for a time at least.

The second night after crossing the Rapidan (the night of the 5th of

May) Colonel W. R. Rowley, of my staff, was acting as night officer at

my headquarters. A short time before midnight I gave him verbal

instructions for the night. Three days later I read in a Richmond paper

a verbatim report of these instructions.

A few nights still later (after the first, and possibly after the

second, day's fighting in the Wilderness) General Meade came to my tent

for consultation, bringing with him some of his staff officers. Both

his staff and mine retired to the camp-fire some yards in front of the

tent, thinking our conversation should be private. There was a stump a

little to one side, and between the front of the tent and camp-fire.

One of my staff, Colonel T. S. Bowers, saw what he took to be a man

seated on the ground and leaning against the stump, listening to the

conversation between Meade and myself. He called the attention of

Colonel Rowley to it. The latter immediately took the man by the

shoulder and asked him, in language more forcible than polite, what he

was doing there. The man proved to be Swinton, the "historian," and his

replies to the question were evasive and unsatisfactory, and he was

warned against further eaves-dropping.

The next I heard of Mr. Swinton was at Cold Harbor. General Meade came

to my headquarters saying that General Burnside had arrested Swinton,

who at some previous time had given great offence, and had ordered him

to be shot that afternoon. I promptly ordered the prisoner to be

released, but that he must be expelled from the lines of the army not to

return again on pain of punishment.