horseman, visiting vestiges of the battle; sidings
beside the track are packed with freight cars, and a small mountain of
pork barrels towers near by; there are blackened remains of locomotives
a little way off, but these have perhaps hauled regiments of
Confederates to the Junction; and over all--men, idlers, ruins, railway,
huts, entrenchments--floats the star-spangled banner from the roof of a
plank depot.

The people in the train were rollicking and well-disposed, and black
bottles circulated freely. I was invited to drink by many persons, but
the beverage proffered was intolerably bad, and several convivials
became stupidly drunk. A woman in search of her husband was one of the
passengers, and those contiguous to her were as gentlemanly as they knew
how to be. "A pretty woman, in war-time," said a Captain, aside, to me,
"is not to be sneezed at." At "Catlett's," a station near Warrenton
Junction, we narrowly escaped a collision with a train behind, and the
occupants of our train, women included, leaped down an embankment with
marvellous agility. Here we switched off to the right, and at four
o'clock dismounted at the pleasant village of Warrenton.

CHAPTER XXI.

CAMPAIGNING WITH GENERAL POPE.

The court-house village of Fauquier County contained a population of
twelve or fifteen hundred at the commencement of the war. Its people
embraced the revolutionary cause at the outstart, and furnished some
companies of foot to the Confederate service, as well as a mounted
company known as the "Black Horse Cavalry." The guns of Bull Run were
heard here on the day of battle, and hundreds of the wounded came into
town at nightfall. Thenceforward Warrenton became prominently identified
with the struggle, and the churches and public buildings were transmuted
to hospitals. After the Confederates retired from Manassas Junction, the
vicinity of Warrenton was a sort of neutral ground. At one time the
Southern cavalry would ride through the main street, and next day a body
of mounted Federals would pounce upon the town, the inhabitants,
meanwhile, being apprehensive of a sabre combat in the heart of the
place. Some people were ruined by the war; some made fortunes. The Mayor
of the village was named Bragg, and he was a trader in horses, as well
as a wagon-builder. There were two taverns, denominated respectively,
the "Warrenton Inn," and the "Warren Green Hotel." I obtained a room at
the former. A young man named Dashiell