It was on November 10, 1864, that General Fitz Lee applied for me, and in a letter written to my mother at the time I said that General Longstreet was very reluctant to give me up. I must say that he did not show any particular interest in retaining me as long as no one else wanted me. General Fitz Lee was in Richmond, having been wounded in the Valley. I reported to him, and was then directed to go to Harrisonburg, Va., and report to General T. L. Rosser, who was then in command of General Lee’s Division. I found that the head-quarters were near Harrisonburg, and was made most cordially welcome there. Lieutenant Charles Minnigerode, son of Dr. Minnigerode, of Richmond, was aide-de-camp to General Lee, and he and I took a great fancy to each other immediately. The other officers of the staff were Major Robert M. Mason, Chief Quarter-master and acting Inspector-General of the Division; Major W. B. Warwick, of Richmond, Chief Commissary; Dr. Archie Randolph, Medical Director. Major J. Du GuÉ Ferguson, of Charleston, the Adjutant-General of the Division, had been taken prisoner, and was not with the command. Major Bowie, the Inspector-General, had been wounded at Spotsylvania, and did not rejoin the division. A better set of fellows than Fitz Lee’s staff it would have been difficult to find. They formed in truth, according to the old phrase, the military family of General Lee. There was no bickering, no jealousy, no antagonism. We lived together as though we were near relatives, and I have the fondest and truest affection for every one of them. Major Mason is a first cousin of General Fitz Lee, and I have not seen him for several years. Archie Randolph I have not heard of since the war ended. Minnigerode was the last man wounded in the Army of Northern Virginia. He was struck near the spine by a rifle ball while riding along the lines to give the order to cease firing, when the last flag of truce had been displayed at Appomattox. For many months he was paralyzed, but he has now entirely recovered, and when I last heard of him he was living in New Orleans.

I found that it was no joke to organize the Ordnance Department of a couple of divisions of Confederate cavalry, but I adapted myself to circumstances, and, having some good assistants, was able to get everything in tolerably good order. We then set out on a raid into Hardy County, West Virginia, for the purpose of capturing horses and cattle. The command, under the leadership of General Rosser, had made a week or two before a very successful raid upon New Creek, on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. They had captured the place and brought off a vast quantity of stores of different descriptions. The present raid was not so eventful. I had not known what cold was before this. The snow lay on the ground a foot deep, and the wind was so keen and bitter that it was difficult to face it. For miles the road lay on a narrow ledge, the mountain rising like a wall on the right, while on the left there was a nearly perpendicular fall of six hundred feet to the Valley below, where a brook, held in icy chains, was shining in the sun. One slip would have sent horse and rider headlong to the bottom of the precipice. Through such scenes as this we rode for a week without any serious accident. Right in the midst of the mountains we came upon the charming residence of Mr. Cunningham, who was living in a manner that seemed entirely out of keeping with the wilderness around him. In his house there was every comfort, with many a luxury that in the Confederacy we had almost forgotten. Miss Annie Cunningham was one of the prettiest women I have ever seen, and became at once the centre of attraction with our young officers. With sleighing parties during the day and singing and dancing at night, our short stay in Hardy County was inexpressibly pleasant. After we left them, as the spokesman of the enamored staff, and not speaking in any sense for myself, I wrote a passionate epistle to Miss Annie, which was entrusted to one of our scouts for delivery. In it I put all the pretty phrases which were suggested by the occasion and the object. Unluckily for me, the note did not reach the fair Annie, but fell into the hands of the Yankees, and was published afterwards in one of the Baltimore papers as a specimen Confederate love letter.

There was a good deal of talk at head-quarters about Captain Charles Cavendish, who reported to General Fitz Lee for duty at, or about, the time that General J. E. B. Stuart was killed, at Yellow Tavern, and who was now absent on leave. Cavendish represented himself to be a cousin of the Duke of Devonshire, and said he held a commission in the 18th Hussars. I knew him quite well later on, and it is indubitable that he was a thorough soldier. General Fitz Lee told me that just when Cavendish reported to him the enemy were attacking in force, and one of our regiments was ordered to charge. Cavendish was well mounted and handsomely equipped, and asked General Lee’s permission to go in with the regiment. This permission was at once given, and Cavendish rode off. Ten minutes later he returned with his saddle on his head, saying that “a blasted Yankee had fired at him from behind a tree and killed his horse.” This was a fact. Cavendish, however, shot the Yankee. There was some things about Cavendish that our fellows could not understand. Riding through the woods one day, he tore the leg of his trousers, and a bare red leg was plainly visible. Minnigerode expressed his surprise at the sight, when Cavendish bluntly informed him that in England gentlemen never wore drawers. The matter was referred to me for decision, and I was unable to confirm what Cavendish had said. It is the fact, however, I think, that the privates and non-commissioned officers in the crack cavalry regiments in England wear nothing but the trousers, in order to secure a closer and better fit. Cavendish remained with us for some time, and in Richmond led a very wild life. As usual in such cases, he became short of money, and his drafts on his noble relatives in England were freely discounted. Cavendish went away, and the drafts came back dishonored. Inquiries were then made about him in England, and it was ascertained that he was most inappropriately named Short, and that he had been a corporal or sergeant in one of the English cavalry regiments. Cavendish was punctilious, however, in the discharge of his duties at our head-quarters, and paid his mess bills as promptly as any one else.