"measles" made its appearance, and a time we had of it. The education of these young men, in this especial direction, had been strangely neglected by their parents in early life; and there was "enough to go round." About forty had it. One of our number, a gallant boy, son of William Micheaux, of Powhatan, never recovered from the effects, causing his early death. Others were long and seriously affected. We had to acknowledge every kindness and attention possible from the ladies and gentlemen of this hospitable section. Many were taken into private families for better nursing. I mention the name only of one good man—now gone to his rest—the venerable and revered Dr. Cole, rector of the Episcopal church, conspicuous in his zeal and kindness.
One incident at this farm we care to recall, simple and homely though it be. The officers' quarters were in the lower room of an office in the yard—the men occupying the main building. Just above us was a small room, occupied by an old and respectable family servant, beyond the demands of work, but well cared for and provided—as Virginia servants in old age always were in "good old times we shall never see again"—he was very deaf and very pious—each night the hum of conversation would soften in our quarters as his nightly prayer, offered in earnest faith and clothed in simple words, was heard by us, unknown by him; and each night did we hear, among his other petitions, a touching one for us: "Good Lord! bless and keep and take care of these young gentlemen as is going to fight the battles of their country." Good old man; he, too, has passed to his rest long ago. We drop in passing the tribute of a tear to his memory.
Soon we were ordered to move to the front to occupy Manassas, halting at the Fauquier White Sulphur Springs to be joined by the noble and world-renowned "Black Horse cavalry," under their accomplished leader, Captain William H. Payne, with Bob Randolph, than whom a nobler spirit never lived nor died in a holy cause, as first lieutenant. We met them, and a gay night we had of it. A "stag" dance in the large ballroom, with song and story, and a friendship cemented, which has outlasted the war and still blooms as fresh as a flower on a Confederate grave. United as a squadron (we mention here, the rest of the cavalry were then in camp of instruction at or near Ashland and came on later) we gaily marched towards our destination, halting at noon in the lovely village of Warrenton. Just here we would love to linger, and amid the sorrows of the present give to memory a holiday to roam a little into the pleasure fields of the past.
