* * * * * One hot August morning a couple of us, wearied with such scenes, crossed the Long Bridge, (whose opposite ends were guarded, at the outbreak of the war by hostile sentries—Virginia stationing hers at the end where the bridge touched her sovereignty, and General Scott sending his to the other end to watch them), and took the cars for Manassas Junction. The railroad had just been turned over to its old owners by the military authorities, and the cars, provided for the accommodation of the Virginia travelers, still bore the inscription “United States Military R. R.” A motley throng of curiosity-hunters, speculators, sight-seers, returning pardon-seekers, and Southern politicians filled the cars. Among them were a very few Southern women. The leaders of the Old Dominion were not yet able to travel much. Manassas Junction was being made over again. A few frame shanties had been hastily thrown up. Two of these did duty as “hotels;” nearly all contrived to turn an honest penny by selling villainous liquors for twice the Washington price. Workmen were nailing on roofs, and hammering at weather-boarding for several more. “We’ll open out a store there next week,” said an unmistakable Yankee, pointing to a structure still standing in the naked simplicity of bare sills, posts and rafters. We stopped among the carpenters, while the tavern-keeper was hitching up his horses to take us over to Bull Run, and made some inquiries as to the localities. “That’s the road to Manassus Gap,” said one, laying down his hammer and nails, with the air of a man glad of an opportunity to quit work and talk. “That’s where we came marching up time o’ Bull Run.” He went on to describe the route his division took. Supposing him to be a Northerner we became utterly confused in trying to square our recollections of the battle with his descriptions. Finally it occurred to us to ask, “Which side were you on?” “The Virginia side, of co’se! What side’d ye ’spose I’d be on?” “He was one of Mosby’s guerrillas,” whispered a Northern resident standing by. He reckoned they’d be quiet enough now, ’s long ’s they’d nothing else to do. They’d been overpowered, but no Yankee could say they were ever whipped. “Didn’t we whip you right straight along till you called in the niggers and Dutch to help you? Make it a fair fight and we’d have whipped you all the way through. One of us could whip two o’ your men any time in fair fight. It stands to reason. Didn’t we whip you all along with only half as many men? Of co’se one o’ our men had to be better’n two o’ your’n.”