Campaigns of a Non-Combatant | Page 5

presented ludicrous figures to the grim sabremen
that sat erect at street corners, and ladies at the windows of the
dwellings smothered with suppressed laughter as we floundered along.
My friend had the better horse; but I was the better rider; and if at any
time I grew wrathful at my sorry plight, I had but to look at his and be
happy again. He appeared to be riding on the neck of his beast, and
when he attempted to deceive me with a smile, his face became
horribly contorted. Directly his breeches worked above his boots, and
his bare calves were objects of hopeless solicitude. Caricatures, rather
than men, we toiled bruisedly through Georgetown, and falling in the
wake of supply teams on the Leesburg turnpike, rode between the
Potomac on one side and the dry bed of the canal on the other, till we
came at last to Chain Bridge.

There was a grand view from the point of Little Falls above, where a
line of foamy cataracts ridged the river, and the rocks towered gloomily
on either hand: and of the city below, with its buildings of pure marble,
and the yellow earthworks that crested Arlington Heights. The clouds
over the Potomac were gorgeous in hue, but forests of melancholy pine
clothed the sides of the hills, and the roar of the river made such
beautiful monotone that I almost thought it could be translated to words.
Our passes were now demanded by a fat, bareheaded officer, and while
he panted through their contents, two privates crossed their bayonets
before us.
"News?" he said, in the shortest remark of which he was capable. When
assured that we had nothing to reveal, he seemed immeasurably
relieved, and added--"Great labor, reading!" At this his face grew so
dreadfully purple that I begged him to sit down, and tax himself with
no further exertion. He wiped his forehead, in reply, gasping like a
triton, and muttering the expressive direction, "right!" disappeared into
a guard-box. The two privates winked as they removed their muskets,
and we both laughed immoderately when out of hearing. Our backs
were now turned to the Maryland shore, and jutting grimly from the hill
before us, the black guns of Fort Ethan Allen pointed down the bridge.
A double line of sharp abattis protected it from assault, and sentries
walked lazily up and down the parapet. The colors hung against the
mast in the dead calm, and the smoke curled straight upward from
some log-huts within the fort. The wildness of the surrounding
landscape was most remarkable. Within sight of the Capital of the
Republic, the fox yet kept the covert, and the farms were few and far
apart. It seemed to me that little had been done to clear the country of
its primeval timber, and the war had accomplished more to give
evidence of man and industry, than two centuries of occupation. A
military road had been cut through the solid rocks here; and the original
turnpike, which had been little more than a cart track, was now graded
and macadamized. I passed multitudes of teams, struggling up the
slopes, and the carcasses of mules littered every rod of the way. The
profanity of the teamsters was painfully apparent. I came unobserved
upon one who was berating his beasts with a refinement of cruelty. He
cursed each of them separately, swinging his long-lashed whip the

while, and then damned the six in mass. He would have made a dutiful
overseer. The soldiers had shown quite as little consideration for the
residences along the way. I came to one dwelling where some
pertinacious Vandal had even pried out the window-frames, and
imperilled his neck to tear out the roof-beams; a dead vulture was
pinned over the door by pieces of broken bayonets.
"Langley's,"--a few plank-houses, clustering around a tavern and a
church,--is one of those settlements whose sounding names beguile the
reader into an idea of their importance. A lonesome haunt in time of
peace, it had lately been the winter quarters of fifteen thousand soldiers,
and a multitude of log huts had grown up around it. I tied my horse to
the window-shutter of a dwelling, and picked my way over a slimy
sidewalk to the ricketty tavern-porch. Four or five privates lay here fast
asleep, and the bar-room was occupied by a bevy of young officers,
who were emptying the contents of sundry pocket-flasks. Behind the
bar sat a person with strongly-marked Hebrew features, and a
watchmaker was plying his avocation in a corner. Two great dogs
crouched under a bench, and some highly-colored portraits were nailed
to the wall. The floor was bare, and some clothing and miscellaneous
articles hung from beams in the ceiling.
"Is this your house?" I said to the Hebrew.
"I