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overlooking the Potomac. As if to assure us of a fair "to-morrow," the sunset clear in the west and lit up the sky, gilding the prominent cloud and changing the background into the "pink and rosy" hues of an ocean shell. Before night came we galloped into the ruined port of entry — Dumfries. So much for the poetical part of the ride; but imagine two woe be-gone horsemen, with clothing covered with the dirtiest kind of mud; faces like that of a former classmate we used to call "cleanly Jack," on the Incus a non lucendo principle; horses jaded and bespattered; shoes full of most abominable "slush;" bodies worn out with fatigue; stomachs guileless of food since early morning; two ragged and runaway chimney sweeps, and you have the other side of the picture. In times of peace the good people of Dumfries would have arrested us as fugitive lunatics; but, fortunately, an hundred thousand soldiers, more or less, have upset all the old rules of propriety. As our object was simply to