duties were to ride through the country in every direction, and on every road and by-way to give warning of approaching danger to the infantry.  These were bold riders in those days, some daring to ride even within view of the spires and domes of Washington itself.  On our outposts we could plainly hear the sound of the drums of the Federalists in their preparation for the “on to Richmond” move.  General Bonham had also some fearless scouts at this time.  Even some of the boldest of the women dared to cross the Potomac in search of information for the Confederate Generals.  It was here that the noted Miss Bell Boyd made herself famous by her daring rides, her many escapades and hair-breadth escapes, her bold acts of crossing the Potomac sometimes disguised and at other times not, even entering the City of Washington itself.  In this way she gathered much valuable information for the Confederate Generals, and kept them posted on the movements of the enemy.  She was one of the best horsewomen of that day; a fine specimen of womanhood, and as fearless and brave as a stout hearted cavalier.  She generally carried a brace of Colt’s revolvers around her waist, and was daring enough to meet any foe who was so bold as to cross her path.  Bell Boyd was one of the many noble Virginia women who staked and dared all for the cause of the South.  William Parley, of South Carolina, another bold scout, was invaluable to General Stuart and General Bonham.  It was he that John Esten Cooke immortalized in “Surry of Eagle’s Nest” and was killed at the battle of Chancellorsville.  He was a native of Laurens County.

The duties of picketing were the first features of our army life that looked really like war.  The soldiers had become accustomed to guard duty, but to be placed out on picket or vidette posts alone, or in company with a comrade, to stand all day and during the dead hours of the night, expecting some lurking foe every moment to shoot you in the back, or from behind some bush to shoot your head off, was quite another matter.  As a guard, we watched over our friends; as a picket, we watched for our foe.  For a long time, being no nearer the enemy than the hearing of their drums, the soldiers had grown somewhat careless.  But there was an uncanny feeling in standing alone in the still hours of the night, in a strange country, watching, waiting for an enemy to crawl up and shoot you unawares.  This feeling was heightened, especially in my company, by an amusing incident that happened while on picket duty on the Annandale road.  Up to this time there had been no prisoners captured on either side, and it was uncertain as to what would be the fate of any who would fall in the enemy’s hands.  As we were considered traitors and rebels, the penalty for that crime was, as we all knew, death.  The Northern press had kept up quite a howl, picturing the long rows of traitors that would be hung side by side as soon as they had captured the Confederate Army.  That there was