the sentinels too, as unconscious as their slumbering com. rades of the proximity of a foe. A few are awake, and with curiosity aroused by the sound of horsemen moving, as it were, in midnight review before them, inquire, "Whose command?" "Scouts going out," is the careless response. At length, they are about five miles below the town, where they intend to recross to "Old Virginia." A "Halt" greets the advance. "Friends, with countersign." The picket gives the usual command. "Bull's Gap," says McNeill, "no time to dismount; are in a hurry; the enemy are reported close; we are sent out by General Crook to watch his movements." "Go on, then; cold night, boys, to be out." "Yes, pretty cold." "Give the Johnnies h-1, boys." "O, yes, we are the boys to do that;" are some of the words interchanged, as McNeill and his boys file past the unsuspecting Yankees. A moment or two more, and McNeill is in Virginia!

McGregor is on his native heath,
With McGregor's clan around him."

On he pushes briskly, without any report of Yankees pursuing in the rear, to which a strict watch is kept. Romney, twenty-seven miles from Cumberland, is reached; the rear-guard report about sixty Yankees in sight, with some of whom they exchanged a few shots, but the Yankees exhibited no disposition to push on very fast. At about two o'clock in the day, McNeill is seen near Moorefield, moving up the South Branch of the Potomac, while up the pike, on the opposite side, move the Yankees, about two hundred strong, their horses the worse for having galloped from New Creek Station, some thirty-five miles off, from which point they started about eight o'clock in the morning, as we afterward learned. Tuesday night, McNeill camped on the South

Fork of the South branch, with his prisoners all safe, but, like their captors, all tired. The next morning, five hundred Yankee cavalry entered Moorefield; a large force was also reliably reported to Lieutenant McNeill, going up Lost river, to intercept him; but they didn't, as the generals reached this city Sunday morning, about two o'clock, in charge of Lieutenant J. S. Welton, who rendered prompt, active, and efficient service in effecting the capture.

It is proper to say, that the entrance into General Kelley's room was through his Adjutant-General's apartment. An eye was kept to this gentleman, and he was brought off with four headquarter colors. His name is Major Melvin.

To have entered Cumberland, a city of ght or nine thou sand inhabitants, (a majority of whom are bitterly hostile,) with, according to our best information, seven or eight thousand troops encamped in and around, is very strong evidence that Lieutenant Jesse C. McNeill is a chip of the old block, a worthy son of his gallant old sire, Captain John Hanson McNeill, who, and his eldest son, have already laid their lives upon their country's altar.

General Early, immediately on the receipt of the news of his exploit, advanced the gallant young officer to the ran of Captain in McNeill's Rangers.

A DUTCHMAN'S OPINION OF JACKSON.

A GENTLEMAN residing in the Valley of Virginia relates that when Fremont and Shields thought they had entrapped Jackson beyond the possibility of escape, Siegel's Dutch soldiers passed his house singing "Shackson in a slug,” (jug)

"Shackson in a shug," and when they returned crestfallen from Port Republic, they answered his inquiries as to what they had dors with Jackson: "Py tam, de shtopper come out of de shug, he gone py tam; if de rebels don't make him de President, Siegel's men make him."

INSULTING WOMEN.FOLKS.

HOOD's Texans were hard cases. On their way to Chickamauga, a squad of them strolling about the streets of came suddenly upon three nice young men, belonging to the bomb-proof" class, as the soldiers called the Government employees, and others who had managed to raise technical objections to military service. Raising a wild yell, the soldiers charged upon the "bomb-proofs," surrounded and captured them. As usual in all such cases of teasing, the tormentors affected rustic manners and dialect.

1st Soldier." Mister, did you ever see a bumbshell ?" 1st Fop.-"Yes."

1st Soldier." Well, I hearn that you had a powerful lot of them in your 'bomb-proof." Don't they fiz purty ?" 2d Soldier." Mister, is you aid to the Guvnor?"

2d Fop.-"No."

2d Soldier. "I kinder thought that you had them purty boots and store clothes to please the Guvnor's darters."

3d Soldier.-"Mister, is you a po-et?"

3d Fop.-"No."

3d Soldier. "You looks like you was a rael po-et. 1 wants you to write some poetry to my old gran mammy. She's powerful on himes (hymns) and hot bricks to her feet."

At this juncture, a big soldier came up and interfered. Looking piteously upon the frightened captives, and then reprovingly upon their persecutors, he said to the latter: "Boys, hain't you got no more manners nor to insult the women-folks." Our informant does not tell us whether or not the women-folks thanked him for his interference.

ANECDOTE OF JOHN MORGAN.

UPON one occasion Captain John II. Morgan was sent on a scout with a detachment of his squadron near Laverno, and had a skirmish with the enemy's pickets, killing seventeen and taking about as many prisoners. Captain Morgan was entering the turnpike from a lane, and was alone, when he suddenly came in contact with a cavalier, who said to Morgan: "Halt, and dismount !" The reply was: "I am Captain John Morgan, and do not obey Federal commands. Draw your pistol, sir; we are upon an equality." The Federal replied: "We are not, sir," at the same time making a quick motion with his hand to his side, when the valiant Captain fired, and "down went a Federal meetin' house!" He fell dead, and turned out to be the veritable Captain Wilson, of Buell's staff, who planted the Federal flag on the capitol at Nashville! Morgan is certainly the intrepid Marion of the

war.

THE MARION OF THE WAR.

A CORESPONDENT of the Memphis Appeal, (April 3d 1862,) vouches for the truth of the following exploit of Captain Morgan:

The heroic young Kentuckian is as full of stratagem as he is of daring. He disguised himself as a countryman and took a wagon load of meal to Nashville the other day. Driving straight to the St. Cloud Hotel, he left his wagon at the door in charge of a trusty follower, and went into the dining-room of the hotel about dinner, where he sat down opposite to General McCook.

"General McCook, I suppose," said the disguised partisan, bowing across the table.

"You are right, sir," said McCook, "that is my name." "Well, gineral, if thar's no seceshers about, I've got something to tell you right here."

Looking around, the general requested his new acquaintance to proceed with what he had to say.

'Well, gineral, I live up here close by Burk's mills, right in the midst of a nest of red hot seceshers, and they swear your soldiers shan't have a peck of meal if they have to starve for it. But, gineral, I'm all right on the goose, though I don't have much to say about it, about home, and so I got a wagon load of meal ground, and I've brung it down here to-day, and it's now out thar in the street, and you can have it if you want."

General McCook was highly delighted-expressed his gratitude to the plain-looking countryman for his kindness, praised his loyalty to "the old flag," etc. etc., and at once ordered the meal to be taken to the commissary of his brigade and paid for in gold and silver. This transaction