_May 7_.--Sunday.--To-day as I was walking a mile or two south of
Alexandria, I fell in with several large squads of the returning Western
army, (Sherman's men as they call'd themselves) about a thousand in all,
the largest portion of them half sick, some convalescents, on their way
to a hospital camp. These fragmentary excerpts, with the unmistakable
Western physiognomy and idioms, crawling along slowly--after a great
campaign, blown this way, as it were, out of their latitude--I mark'd
with curiosity, and talk'd with off and on for over an hour. Here and
there was one very sick; but all were able to walk, except some of
the last, who had given out, and were seated on the ground, faint and
despondent. These I tried to cheer, told them the camp they were to
reach was only a little way further over the hill, and so got them up
and started, accompanying some of the worst a little way, and helping
them, or putting them under the support of stronger comrades.
_May 21_.--Saw General Sheridan and his cavalry to-day; a strong,
attractive sight; the men were mostly young, (a few middle-aged,)
superb-looking fellows, brown, spare, keen, with well-worn clothing,
many with pieces of water-proof cloth around their shoulders, hanging
down. They dash'd along pretty fast, in wide close ranks, all spatter'd
with mud; no holiday soldiers; brigade after brigade. I could have
watch'd for a week. Sheridan stood on a balcony, under a big tree,
coolly smoking a cigar. His looks and manner impress'd me favorably.
_May 22_.--Have been taking a walk along Pennsylvania avenue and Seventh
street north. The city is full of soldiers, running around loose.
Officers everywhere, of all grades. All have the weatherbeaten look of
practical service. It is a sight I never tire of. All the armies are
now here (or portions of them,) for to-morrow's review. You see them
swarming like bees everywhere.