he romance--Burnside, riding by, with his
black, tall, army felt hat, without plume or gilt eagle, brim turned
down, his dark blue blouse covered with dust. 'Why,' said she, 'he
looked, in his dusty blue shirt, with two old tin dippers strung by the
handle at his belt, like any farmer; but I suppose he had some better
clothes.' Her lament for the gallant fellows who had fallen by disease,
torn by the cannon shot, or struck by the deadly rifle ball; for the
sufferings of the poor, sick, lame, and mutilated soldiers; and her
solemn asseverations that there was something wrong in the hearts of the
leaders on both sides, to permit this suffering and loss of so many good
men, was truly touching. We could not reason it out with her; logic had
to give place to her pathetic lamentation. I do not, however, intend to
keep my readers so long a time at this little wayside inn as I was; and
will pass on to Harper's Ferry, a mile beyond.

But before we part, we certainly should not fail to notice a modern
addition to the camp follower that Napoleon did not have in his grand
armies--the newsboy--the omnipresent, the irrepressible gamin of the
press. New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, all had
contributed their quota, and what a glorious harvest they were reaping!
Baltimore _Americans_, at five cents each; New York _Heralds_,
_Tribunes_, and _Times_, at ten cents; and everything sold early. One
little fellow was strutting around with a pair of spurs on, and styled
himself 'colonel;' the others he introduced as his staff. The day's work
was over, and larking had begun. I found the spurs were for use. The
colonel had bought an old condemned brute, which his companions were
trying to buy at the advanced price of ten dollars. The camps were at a
distance, from two miles upward, and a mounted boy could bring his wares
to market first. And so the whole afternoon every rider of a
particularly bad horse was pestered by an offer of five or ten dollars,
from a throng of dirty, noisy, scampish ragamuffins. Later in the
evening, the guard went by with some three or four of the boys, for once
without a grin on their faces, under arrest. We asked the colonel, who
had the reputation of being an honest fellow, what was the matter with
his suite. He only replied that it was hard times for newsboys, if that
was the way things were going; and walked off, clanking his long spurs
over the stones.

The railroad and road from Sandy Hook to Harper