The officer obeyed, and found General Lee at his headquarters, which consisted of one or two tents, with a battle-flag set up in front, on the highway, near Griffinsburg.  He was conversing with General Ewell, and the contrast between the two soldiers was striking.  Ewell was thin, cadaverous, and supported himself upon a crutch, for he had not yet recovered from the wound received at Manassas.  General Lee, on the contrary, was erect, ruddy, robust, and exhibited indications of health and vigor in every detail of his person.  When Stuart’s message was delivered to him, he bowed with that grave courtesy which he exhibited alike toward the highest and the lowest soldier in his army, and said:  “Thank you.  Tell General Stuart to continue to press them back toward the river.”

He then smiled, and added, with that accent of sedate humor which at times characterized him:  “But tell him, too, to spare his horses—­to spare his horses.  It is not necessary to send so many messages.”

He turned as he spoke to General Ewell, and, pointing to the officer who had come from Stuart, and another who had arrived just before him, said, with lurking humor:  “I think these two young gentlemen make eight messengers sent me by General Stuart!”

He then said to Ewell:  “You may as well move on with your troops, I suppose, general;” and soon afterward the infantry began to advance.

Stuart was meanwhile engaged in an obstinate combat with the Federal cavalry near Brandy, in the immediate vicinity of Fleetwood Hill, the scene of the great fight in June.  The stand made by the enemy was resolute, but the arrival of General Fitz Lee decided the event.  That officer had crossed the Rapidan and driven General Buford before him.  The result now was that, while Stuart was pressing the enemy in his front, General Buford came down on Stuart’s rear, and Fitz Lee on the rear of Buford.  The scene which ensued was a grand commingling of the tragic and serio-comic.  Every thing was mingled in wild confusion, but the day remained with the Southern cavalry, who, at nightfall, had pressed their opponents back toward the river, which the Federal army crossed that night, blowing up the railroad bridge behind them.

Such was the first act of the bustling drama.  At the approach of Lee, General Meade had vanished from Culpepper, and so well arranged was the whole movement, in spite of its rapidity, that scarce an empty box was left behind.  Lee’s aim to bring his adversary to battle south of the Rappahannock had thus failed; but the attempt was renewed by a continuation of the flanking movement toward Warrenton Springs, “with the design,” Lee says, “of reaching the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, north of the river, and interrupting the retreat of the enemy.”  Unfortunately, however, for this project, which required of all things rapidity of movement, it was found necessary to remain nearly all day on the 11th near Culpepper Court-House, to