were the scene of an imposing pageant.

Stuart's cavalry was passing in review before Lee, who was about to
commence his march toward Gettysburg.

Those of my readers who were fortunate enough to be present, will not
forget that scene. They will remember the martial form of Stuart at the
head of his _sabreurs_; how the columns of horsemen thundered by the
great flag; how the multitude cheered, brightest eyes shone, the merry
bands clashed, the gay bugles rang; how the horse artillery roared as
it was charged in mimic battle--while Lee, the gray old soldier, with
serene carriage, sat his horse and looked on.

Never had the fields of Culpeper witnessed a spectacle more
magnificent. The sunshine darted in lightnings from the long line of
sabres, lit up beautiful faces, and flashed from scarfs, and waving
handkerchiefs, rosy cheeks, and glossy ringlets. All was life, and joy,
and splendor. For once war seemed turned to carnival; and flowers
wreathed the keen edge of the sword.

Among the illustrious figures gazed at by the crowd, two were the
observed of all the observers--those of Lee and Stuart.

Lee sat his powerful horse, with its plain soldierly equipments,
beneath the large flag. He was clad in a gray uniform, almost without
mark of rank. Cavalry boots reached nearly to his knees; as usual he
wore no sword; over his broad brow drooped a plain brown felt hat,
without tassel or decoration. Beneath, you saw a pair of frank and
benignant, but penetrating eyes, ruddy cheeks, and an iron gray
mustache and beard, both cut close. In the poise of the stately head,