At Sandy Hook, on the day of our return, we had to wait until nine in the evening for the train to Baltimore. Stuart's cavalry had been over the road in the morning, making their escape into Virginia. They dared not stay to do mischief; our forces were at all the important points. Considering the immense supplies in the rear of the army, Stuart did very little harm; his eight hundred fresh horses were not worth the risk he ran. If he could have seized our supplies at Monocacy Station, and burnt the bridge there, he would have inflicted a serious loss upon the army. The nature of his raid seemed well understood, and there was no apprehension then of the enemy's holding the railroad; for the train from Baltimore had passed over the restored rails a few hours after the retreating troopers. At every important point we found soldiers, and near Frederick we were glad to hear that seven of the sick troopers, used up by their hard service, had fallen behind and been taken. We learned that General Pleasanton with some of our cavalry was in pursuit, and there were several stories about an engagement: the firing of cannon had been heard. General Pleasanton at that time was held in very little esteem, and seemed to have particularly disgusted those who had served under him, and was often cited as an example of McClellan's lack of judgment in men. He appears since to have acquired a newspaper reputation for ability and energy. I only hope that it is deserved, and that the opinions we heard so often were not well founded. We arrived at the Baltimore depot at four in the morning amid a rain, and found it occupied by some one or two thousand soldiers, standing and sitting about in their blue overcoats with their arms stacked. Not a carriage could be obtained, and so, shouldering our bag in military fashion, we marched for the Eutaw House. At the door was stationed a guard, marking it as the headquarters of Major-General Wool. We passed by unchallenged; in our bag, however, we had rebel ammunition: a loaded shell fired at our men as they were crossing the stone bridge at Antietam. Fortunately the fuse had gone out, and it remained a trophy for one of the despicable Down-East Yankees. We heard the old General was still the centre of attraction to the pretty secesh ladies who had friends or relatives in durance vile in Fort McHenry. The veteran hero, though rich, wears a uniform that shows the marks of service. That, however, does not prevent the constant presents of delicious fruit and beautiful flowers, and invitations to drive to the fort, from those bewitching belles of Baltimore: whereat some strong Union people grumble loudly. AMERICAN DESTINY. II.