"I was a seyin' some ole hymns, young Mars'r. Sence dis yer war we don't
have no more meetin's, and a body mos' forgits his pra'rs. Dere hain't
been no church in all Fairfax, sah, fur nigh six months."

Washington was nineteen miles distant, and another creek was to be
forded before gaining the turnpike. The negro sauntered down the lane,
and opened the gate for me. "You jes keep from de creek, take de mill
road, and enqua' as ye get furder up," said he; "it's mighty easy, sah,
an' you can't miss de way."

I missed the way at once, however, by confounding the mill road with the
mill lane, and a shaggy dog that lay in a wagon shed pursued me about a
mile. The road was full of mire; no dwellings adjoined it, and nothing
human was to be seen in any direction. I came to a crumbling negro cabin
after two plodding hours, and, seeing a figure flit by the window,
called aloud for information. Nobody replied, and when, dismounting, I
looked into the den, it was, to my confusion, vacant.

The soil, hereabout, was of a sterile red clay, spotted with scrub
cedars. Country more bleak and desolate I have never known, and when, at
noon, the rain ceased, a keen wind blew dismally across the barriers. I
reached a turnpike at length, and, turning, as I thought, toward
Alexandria, goaded my horse into a canter. An hour's ride brought me to
a wretched hamlet, whose designation I inquired of a cadaverous old
woman--

"Drainesville," said she.

"Then I am not upon the Alexandria turnpike?"

"No. You're sot for Leesburg. This is the Georgetown and Chain Bridge
road."

With a heavy heart, I retraced my steps, crossed Chain Bridge at five
o'clock, and halted at Kirkwood's at seven. After dinner, falling in
with the manager of the Washington Sunday morning _Chronicle_, I penned,
at his request, a few lines relative to the movements of the Reserves;
and, learning in the morning that they had arrived at Alexandria, set
out on horseback for that city.

Many hamlets and towns have been destroyed during the war. But, of all
that in some form survive, Alexandria has most suffered. It has been in
the uninterrupted possession of the Federals for twenty-two months, and
has become essentially a military city. Its streets, its docks, its
warehouses, its dwellings, and its suburbs, have been absorbed to the
thousand uses of war.

I was challenged thrice on the Long Bridge, and five times on the road,
before reaching the city. I rode under the