Judge Horton lived with his wife Anna, his nineteen-year-old stepson, and his two young sons in a six-room home built in 1849 by the great-great uncle of his wife. The white two-story home at 200 Hobbs Street, with its black-shuttered small-paned windows and colonnaded porches, stood at the end of a walkway lined with twelve mountain cedars. During the Civil War, it was the home of occupying Union officers. On a closet door in a corner room was an inscription--still visible today--left by the Yankees: "Three cheers for Lincoln--Nov. 7, 1864.” 13
All prospect being denied us from the house itself, let us ascend Castrammon Hill, which rises in a gentle slope form the garden wall. A very easy climb of a quarter of an hour brings us to the summit, which may be a thousand feet above sea level, here, indeed, one has wide horizons. Looking towards the setting sun we see almost at our feet the still waters of Loch Urr, and beyond, range upon range of hills leading to the distant Glenkens. To the right, a neighboring shoulder hinders our view but again turning we have a range of country which extends over moorland, river, and plain, away down into Wordsworth's country. We can see where Ecclefechan must lie, whence the staid, serious boy started on his life's voyage. Main hill and Scotsbrigs are not far away, where the successive chapters of his history were unfolded. Again raising our eyes, beyond these filmy Cumberland hills, in a quiet street of quiet Chelsea we see in our "mind's eye" the scene of his later and last days, on the edge of that "Fog Babylon" he so railed against, and where the old Censor breathed his last – laying down his weary life, which to him had been one long struggle and tardy triumph; dying, to be brought home again, almost, within the shadow of the hill we are standing on, and laid by the dust of his father and mother in the quiet churchyard of Ecclefechan.