ouses still
remaining to mark the site of the village, presented a forlorn and
pitiful appearance. Deserted by their owners, occupied as stables and
storehouses some of them falling in ruins, and all dirty and
dilapidated, they were a mournful commentary on the ruthless destruction
which follows in the footsteps of war. Still further on, our route led
us along the Manassas Gap railroad. Here were more sad pictures of the
havoc of war. The track was torn up, the ties burnt. Every now and then,
numbers of car wheels and axles, iron bands and braces, couplings and
reaches, showed where whole trains had been burned.

Here and there, the incombustible materials among the debris showed the
lading of particular cars. The remains of fruit cans, tin plates,
blacking boxes and glassware, told of sutlers who had disposed of their
wares at less than the usual exorbitant prices. Heaps of spikes and
handleless hammers, and iron bars, reminded us of disconcerted plans in
railroad extension, while numberless solid shot, bullets and fragments
of shells, showed where car loads of ammunition had been consumed in
harmless explosions.

At length, after a hard day's march, we arrived at Bristow Station,
where the corps turned into the fields and bivouacked.

The tower and wind-mill which had been used for raising water to the
tank, remained alone to show where the station had been; all the other
buildings being destroyed, except where still remained the dismantled
ruins of what had once been a hotel.

Here, as for miles back on the road, were the remains of ruined cars and
their contents.

The surrounding country was delightful. A mile or two south of us was a
little church in the midst of an oak grove. It is an agreeable
peculiarity with the southern people, that they are accustomed to locate
their country churches in the midst of pleasant groves, sometimes at a
distance from any residence. In this respect, they certainly exhibit
better taste than the people of most of our northern States, who have
such a propensity for setting the church on the summit of some high hill
where not a tree or shrub adorns the grounds, and the aspiring steeple
seems, like Babel, to be striving vainly to reach the heavens.

On the morning after our arrival here, we heard the sounds of
cannonading not far off, and learned that the cavalry under General
Pleasanton were hotly engaged at Aldee and Upperville, with Stuart's
rebel cavalry, and that our forces w