[360] fired at him without effect, but coming suddenly upon a formidable ditch, the horse bolted and threw him over his head, without serious injury. The Rebels were upon him in a moment, and knowing that it was useless to resist, he surrendered. A graphic description of this daring attempt, and of the subsequent demeanor of Captain Barker in prison, can fortunately be given in the words of his companion in the misadventure, General Stoughton.
Early in the month of March, 1863, before the gray dawn of day had replaced the darkness gathered during a stormy, cold, and gusty night of rain and sleet, I found myself riding side by side with a young man through the thick pine woods of Virginia, our horses floundering in the mud caused by the recent rains. We were surrounded by several Rebel soldiers, each carrying his pistol in his hand, cocked and ready for use should we attempt to escape; but in spite of this vigilance he managed to communicate to me his name, and his intention to escape as we neared Centreville, rouse the garrison there, and liberate his fellow-prisoners. I reminded him of the peril of the attempt under the circumstances, to which he paid little heed, seeming only anxious as to the horse's capacity to leap the stream which then separated us from Centreville, running only a few rods to our left, and parallel to our course of march. It was now the gray of the morning, and suddenly he dashed from my side directly toward the stream. Almost instantly the report of several pistols broke the stillness of the morning air, and Barker fell forward on his horse's neck, the horse still plunging toward the stream, on reaching which he raised himself on his hind legs as if to make a spring to clear it, when, suddenly turning short to the left, Barker fell to the ground, as we all supposed at the time mortally wounded, in this most intrepid attempt to release his fellow-prisoners from captivity. Such was my first acquaintance with Augustus Barker, and so much was I pleased with him, that the next day, when I was paroled and permitted to leave the other prisoners, to become the guest of General Fitz-Hugh Lee, I asked that he might accompany me, which request was granted. Afterwards, in Libby Prison, under the most depressing circumstances, he displayed the rarest qualities; his buoyant spirits and good cheer never deserted him. He was, I may say, a great pet with all the prisoners, cheering the downcast and encouraging the anxious and low-spirited. He was a
