I felt a shiver go down my pail, white spine as the carriage trotted down the street. The date is November 20, 1866, I was on my way to the magnificent Mosby Mansion, and he was one of the most famous soldiers who disguised himself so the Yankees wouldn't recognize him. As I waited for the carriage to come to a halt, I would just sit with my head held high. But filled with boredom.
Finally the carriage came to a stop; I hopped out of the carriage along with my luggage. I tipped the kind driver, and headed towards the house. I didn't exactly have a strategy of how I would greet Mr. Mosby and his family; I just thought I should be respectful. As I climbed step by step, I realized that the house had the most beautiful landscape that I had ever observed with my eyes. Finally, I reached the last step, with my legs parallel to the door. I hesitated for a moment thinking about the way I look. I looked up at my hair and from what I could see, I looked fine.
It occurred to me that the circumstances I was meeting him under, would probably be considered boredom to him. He had been a courageous soldier during the bloodiest battle America had ever seen. I'm here to help him celebrate his great honor. I am hoping he will discuss the conspiracy of Ulysses S. Grant's campaign.
As I stood in the front of the door I smoothed out my clothes because I didn't want to embarrass myself to whoever might answer the door. I raised my arm, and clutched my fist while banging on the door. After the eight knock, an exhausted little old lady abruptly answered the door. With sympathy in my eyes I asked politely "Excuse me ma'am, is Mr. Mosby here?" With a confusing look on her face she asked "What for?" I hesitated to answer, as I didn't want to quarrel with the little old lady; as I thought it was none of her business. So she wouldn't get suspicious I quickly answered "I am a reporter for the local Warrenton, Virginia Daily, and I'm here to interview Mr. Mosby". Her face brightened up as she left the foyer to fetch Mr. Mosby.
As I stood their transferring my carpet bag from one hand to the other Mr. Mosby suddenly appeared in front of me. I realized as he appeared out of nowhere with no sound, I knew why the majority of the world called him "The Grey Ghost". I introduced myself to Mr. Mosby and explained to him that I wanted his war times to be fully illustrated in my article. I told him that I had a Maximum of three days to get my article to the paper. He assured me that was a sufficient amount of time. We spent the next three days discussing what he had done during the war. But I never got to ask him about the conspiracy of Ulysses S. Grant's campaign.