nearly midnight
May , 1864 , had come ; we were soon to be in the saddle ; the thundering hammer of General Grant was about to commence its performances . One night -- it was the night of the first of May -- I was sitting in General Stuart 's tent , looking into his blazing log fire , and musing . In this luxury I was not interrupted . It was nearly midnight , and the rest of the staff had retired . Stuart was writing at his desk , by the light of a candle in a captured `` camp candlestick , '' and from time to time , without turning his head , ejaculated some brief words upon any subject which came into his head . After writing ten minutes , he now said briefly : -- `` Surry . '' `` General , '' was my as brief response . ''