eir families and their
worldly all, came and went--God help them!--and touched their hats so
obsequiously that my heart was wrung, and I felt a nervous impulse to
put them upon my steed and take their burdens upon my back. Little sable
folk, asleep and ahungered, drawn to that barefoot woman's breast; and
the tired boy, weeping as he held to his father's hand; and the father
with the sweat of fatigue and doubt upon his forehead,--children of
Ishmael all; war raging in the land, but God overhead! These are the
"wandering Jews" of our day, hated North and South, because they are
poor and blind, and do no harm; but out of their wrongs has arisen the
abasement of their wrongers. Is there nothing over all?

We entered the beautiful lawn of the Springs' hotel, at ten o'clock, and
a negro came up to take our horses. By the lamplight and moonlight I saw
McDowell's tent, a sentry pacing up and down before it, and the thick,
powerful figure of the General seated at a writing-table within. Irvin
McDowell was one of the oldest officers in the service, and when the war
commenced he became a leading commander in the Eastern army. At Bull Run
he had a responsible place, and the ill success of that battle brought
him into unpleasant notoriety. Though he retained a leading position he
was still mistrusted and disliked. None bore ingratitude so stolidly. He
may have flinched, but he never replied; and though ambitious he tried
to content himself with subordinate commands. Some called him a traitor,
others an incompetent, others a plotter. If McClellan failed, McDowell
was cursed. If Pope blundered, McDowell received half the contumely. But
he loosened no cord of discipline to make good will. Implacable,
dutiful, soldierly, rigorous in discipline, sententious, brave,--the
most unpopular man in America went on his way, and I think that he is
recovering public favor again. The General of a republic has a thorny
path to tread, and almost every public man has been at one time
disgraced during the civil war. McDowell, I think, has been treated
worse than any other.

Our nags being removed, we repaired to one of the rustic cottages which
bounded the lawn, and I was introduced to several members of the staff;
among others, to a Count Saint Alb, an Austrian. He had been an officer
in his native country; but came to America, anxious for active service,
and was appointed to Gen. McDowell's Staff with the rank of Captain. I
understood that he was w