Some readers may regard this picture of Stuart as overdrawn; but it is
the simple truth of that brave soul. He had his faults; he loved
praise, even flattery, and was sometimes irascible--but I have never
known a human being more pure, generous and brave.

At sunset the review was over. The long columns of cavalry moved slowly
back to their camps. The horse artillery followed; the infantry who had
witnessed the ceremony sought their bivouacs in the woods; and the
crowd, on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, returned toward the
Court-House, whose spires were visible across the fields.

Stuart had approached the flag-staff and, doffing his plumed hat, had
saluted Lee, who saluted in return, and complimented the review. After
a few moments' conversation, they had then saluted a second time. Lee,
followed by his staff, rode toward his quarters; and Stuart set out to
return to his own.

We had ridden about half a mile, when Stuart turned his head and called
me. I rode to his side.

"I wish you would ride down toward Beverly's Ford, Surry," he said,
"and tell Mordaunt to keep a bright lookout to-night. They must have
heard our artillery on the other side of the river, and may want to
find out what it means."

I saluted, and turned my horse. Stuart cantered on singing.

In a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was riding toward the
Rappahannock.