e place was a Captain
Hendrickson. His quarters were in the Court House building, and he kept
a zealous eye upon sutlers and citizens. The former trespassed in the
sales of liquors to soldiers, and the latter were accused of maintaining
a contraband mail, and of conspiring to commit divers offences. There
were a number of churches in the village, all of which served as
hospitals, and in the quiet cemetery west of the town, two hundred slain
soldiers were interred. A stake of white pine was driven at the head of
each grave. Here lay some of the men who had helped to change the
destinies of a continent. No public worship was held in the place. The
Sundays were busy as other days: trains came and went, teams made dust
in the streets, cavalry passed through the village, music arose from all
the outlying camps; parades and inspections were made, and all the
preparations for killing men were relentlessly forwarded. A pleasant
entertainment occurred one evening, when a plot of ground adjoining the
Warrenton Inn, was appropriated for a camp theatre. Candle footlights
were arranged, and the stage was canopied with national flags. The
citizens congregated, and the performers deferred to their prejudices by
singing no Federal songs. Tho negroes climbed the trees to listen, and
their gratified guffaws made the night quiver. The war lost half its
bitterness at such times; but I thought with a shudder of Stuart's
thundering horsemen, charging into the village, and closing the night's
mimicry with a horrible tragedy.

Some of the dwellings about the place were elegant and spacious, but
many of these were closed and the owners removed. Two newspapers had
been published here of old, and while ransacking the office of one of
them, I discovered that the type had been buried under the floor. The
planks were speedily torn away, and the cases dragged to light. I
obtained some curious relics, in the shape of "cuts" of recruiting
officers, runaway negroes, etc., as well as a column of a leader, in
type, describing the first battle of Bull Run. For two weeks I had
little to do, as the campaign had not yet fairly commenced, and I passed
many hours every day reading. A young lawyer, in the Confederate
service, had left an ample library behind him, and the books passed into
the hands of every invader in the town.

Pope finally arrived at Warrenton, and as the troops seemed to be
rapidly concentrating, I judged it expedient to procure a horse at o