neutralized any attempt at open hostility. The people were sullen, or reluctantly civil, and the hotel keepers extended their hospitality in a most niggardly spirit. I put up at a small inn, which was filled with soldiers, senators, officers of the army, members of the House of Representatives, and citizens, who had visited the scene of battle much after the manner in which we are accustomed in the North to patronize trotting matches and agricultural fairs.

them on foot, and trains for the transportation of the wounded and weary. I hastily dressed, and in company with those who had been our companions of the night, took up the line of march.

As we left the inn and joined in the line the scene was most exciting. The night was gloomy. Large black clouds rolled over the sky, while big drops of rain were occasionally falling. The weary soldiers had just come from the field, with torn uniforms, empty canteens, and many of them without either muskets or haversacks. The utmost confusion existed. No dozen of the soldiers seemel to belong to the same regiment. There were men from Rhode Island, from New York, from Ohio, and from Michigan. Every soldier had a dozen rumors; every rumor was of the most conflicting and animating character. There were tales of death and daring; of havoc and desolation. Each particular act of bravery was recorded, and every soldier had a tale to tell of a comrade who had fought bravely and died gallant

It was the impression at Fairfax, where I arrived about dusk, that we had obtained a victory, but in about an hour the news of a retreat was obtained in a despatch from General Tyler. The receipt of the news created a commotion among the temporary residents of the place, although the hope was expressed and entertained that the brigade of Colonel Miles would make a stand at Centreville, and hold that position as an advanced post for future operations, or as a stand-point around which to rally our retreating forces. Numerous bodies of troops, however, began to come into Fair-ly. In one thing they were agreed, and that fax, some of them mounted on artillery horses, some transportation wagons, and a few in ambulances, having been wounded. A rumor obtained currency that a body of the rebels had taken one of the roads leading to a point below Fairfax, with the intention of cutting off the retreat of our army and capturing the town. This announcement created a panic among the Union men, and a rush was made for Washington by all who could, for either love or money, obtain the means of conveyance to the capital. A number of distinguished representatives of the New York press took this occasion to leave the scene of danger, and they left at an early hour. So anxious were some of them to leave, that I saw one offer a traveller his gold watch and his purse if he would drive him to Arlington. The offer was refused, and the anxious and excited civilian remained.

Finding it impracticable to return to Centreville, I determined to remain at Fairfax until morning, in the hope of learning that our forces had occupied Centreville, and maintained the communications open by which we could return. The only accommodations to be found was a small mattress in the corner of a parlor, where I soon fell into a deep sleep. The floor was covered with mattresses, and my bed companions were soldiers weary from the field, and civilians of all conditions. About 1 o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by a soldier of a New York regiment, who informed me that there was a regular retreat of the army; that our forces had been completely routed; that Beauregard was in full pursuit, and that our army was falling back upon Washington. I arose at the alarming intelligence, and on looking from the window saw that, so far as our army being in retreat was concerned, his information was correct. The broad street was filled with large bodies of troops, many of

was, that a regiment of rebels had outflanked the army in retreat, and intended to intercept the march at a point below Fairfax. There were the most gloomy and desperate speculations upon the result of any such a conflict. About one-half of our men were armed, and it was the determination to oppose any attempt at capture by a fierce resistance. I am contident, if we had met the enemy at the point anticipated, there would have been a fearful conflict and terrible slaughter.

The road from Fairfax was hard and rough. On each side there were deep gulleys or ravines, and for a great portion of the way our path was between woods, which would have afforded a splendid opportunity for an ambuscade, and through hills where, on either side, a company of soldiers with a battery could have repulsed almost any body of men. Many of the volunteers fell away from sheer exhaustion. Along the sides of the road small bodies of men might be seen lying, wrapped in the deep sleep which answers the demand of exhausted nature. Some of the soldiers endeavored to march by regiment, and for a mile or two I could see a dozen or a score of men seated at different points of the road, and hear such cries as "This way, Ninth!" "Come over here, Rhode Island!" "Here you are, SeventyNinth!" "All together, Zouaves!" “Fall in, Ohio!" "This way, Massachusetts!" and so on, as the different regiments happened to be designated. The attempt, however, was not very successful, and the men marched wearily onward, sad and silent.

We passed the point of danger, and no signs of the enemy were manifest. There was a constant cry for water. "For God's sake, give us a drink!" "Can't you help a sick man? "I'm thirsty and almost dead," were the cries we heard constantly and appealingly from the weary soldiers as they lay on the roadside.

Once or twice a well was reached, and it was instantly surrounded by bodies of thirsty soldiers, clamoring for the merest drop of the refreshing beverage. Men were constantly falling from sheer exhaustion. In one case a lieutenant came along on horseback, carrying behind him a wounded soldier. The horse had been cut from a battery, and it still had on its military harness. The animal could go no farther, the men were almost fainting, and could not dismount. A soldier of the same regiment came along and tenderly lifted his commander from the weary animal, placed him on the roadside, and, in answer to the appeal of a comrade to continue his journey, replied that he could not go, for his place of duty was by the side of his officer. And by his side, carefully bathing his brow, anxiously binding up a severe wound upon his shoulder, we left him, and passed on.

We passed on, and in silence. Few words were spoken, for there was a deep grief in every heart, and the few sentences which occasionally fell upon my ear, expressed not so much the mere mortification of defeat, as the deep and bitter determination to cover that defeat by a future of glorious victory and fearful retribution. About six miles from Fairfax a body of regular cavalry came up to us and passed on, having retreated in good order. From them we learned that our army was in full retreat, even from Centreville, and that the retreat was being covered by the Third Infantry, under Major Sykes, of whose bravery I may have occasion to speak, and that a detachment of the enemy were in pursuit, harassing them with shell. With the Third Infantry were the reserve regiments, including that of Col. Einstein, whose men were ordered to fall in with the retreating troops without having fired a musket. Trains of baggage wagons were constantly passing us, many of them being filled with wounded men. There were numerous horses which passed, nearly every animal ing two riders. On arriving at the road leading to Alexandria, a great part of the retreating column proceeded to that town. We took the road which leads to Arlington, and continued our march.

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five miles from Washington, who stood on the roadside and furnished the troops with water. At about six o'clock in the morning we came in view of Washington city and Georgetown; of Fort Corcoran, with its frowning black guns, and patrolled by solitary sentinels; and of the long rows of white tents where the New Jersey brigade was encamped. And above the hills of Arlington, in the gray hour of that gloomy dawn, and amid a shower of quicklyfalling rain, we saw our dear old flag-God bless it-still streaming to the breeze-the type of liberty, and law, and constitutional freedom; the emblem of a glorious past; the harbinger of a more glorious future; and, though covered to-day with temporary disaster, soon to float again over rebellion crushed, a Constitution defended, a Union restored, and the majesty of a mighty and invincible Republic.

J. R. Y.

P. S.-I attach to this letter a copy of a letter addressed by an officer of the regular army to a friend, who has kindly consented that I may use it. It is graphically written, and will tell you many things which only an officer can tell:

The march from our bivouac, near Centreville, was taken up at 2} A. M. on Sunday. Among officers and men the impression prevailed that the action would occur at Bull Run, the scene of Gen. Tyler's repulse a day or two previously. In this they were disappointed. Tyler's brigade posted themselves at the bridge over Bull Run, where they were ordered to feign an attack as soon as Col. Hunter's division was known to be in position. This order was partially obeyed. Hunter's division, composed of Burnside's brigade and Porter's brigade, after proceeding a mile beyond Centreville, made a detour to the right, and proceeded over a wood road, well covered from observation, to the left flank of the enemy, at Manhav-assas, a distance of about eight miles. At six o'clock firing was heard on the heights at Bull Run, from a battery in Tyler's brigade, which was promptly answered by the enemy's batteries. Their position thus revealed, the advance division (Hunter's) ascended a hill at The morning came, but it was very gloomy double quick, and almost immediately the -the sky was a mass of heaving and rolling Rhode Island battery and Griffin's West Point clouds, and the sun arose in all his purple gold- battery were in brisk action. The former was en, and, as it seemed to us, bloody splendor. supported by the First regiment Rhode Island Our path was a small, narrow one, leading from Volunteers, who maintained their ground nothe main turnpike, and approaching Washing- bly for half hour. At this moment Porter's ton by a more direct road than that generally brigade, composed of the Fourteenth, Seventh, travelled. The country was even more hilly and Twenty-seventh New York, with a batand densely wooded than that we had just trav-talion of U. S. Marines, under Major Reynolds, ersed. The ambulances, wagons, and horsemen having gone forward, we were left behind, and to the number of about a thousand, in mere straggling groups, and covering some three or four miles of ground, we continued our march. The only evidence of hospitality we received was at the house of a farmer, about

and a battalion of U. S. Third, Second, and Eighth Infantry, under Major Sykes, took their position in line of battle upon a hill, within range of the enemy's fire. Burnside's battery being sorely pressed, the enemy having charged closely upon it, the gallant Colonel galloped to Major Sykes and implored him to come to his

assistance. Major Sykes brought his men up The fire was terrific. We maintained our posiat a run, and, with a deafening shout, they tion for a half hour. Then it was discovered charged upon the enemy's skirmishers, who that the rebel cavalry were attempting to outfled before them several hundred yards. Form- flank our right. We had no force to resist ing in column of divisions Sykes' battalion ad- them, and the bugle of the regulars sounded vanced a considerable distance, until they drew the march in retreat. This, so far as they upon themselves an intensely hot fire of mus- were concerned, was conducted in good order. ketry and artillery. This was a trying mo- On Major Sykes was imposed the responsible ment. The volunteers expected much of the duty of covering the retreat of the army. In regulars, and gazed upon them as they stood in this he was assisted on part of the route by the unbroken line, receiving the fire, and returning United States cavalry under Major Palmer. it with fatal precision. Impressions and reso- The enemy followed us with their artillery and lutions are formed on the battle-field in an in-cavalry, shelling us constantly, until we reached stant. The impression at this moment was a Centreville. Here we bivouacked for an hour, happy one, and Heintzelman's brigade coming and then again took up the line of march. But up into line, our forces steadily advanced upon of the retreat let me say a word, and pardon, the retreating rebels. The batteries, which my dear fellow, this incoherent letter, written had been meanwhile recruited with men and in an excited Centreville bivouac, on my horses, renewed their fire with increased effect, sound knee, the other severely scratched. As and our supremacy upon the field was appar- I said, Major Sykes, with his Third, Second, ent. The enemy's fire was now terrific. Shell, and Eighth Infantry, in all but eight comround-shot, and grape from their batteries cov-panies, and they decimated, conducted the reered the field with clouds of dust, and many a gallant fellow fell in that brief time. At this juncture the volunteers, who hitherto had behaved nobly, seeing their ranks thinned out, many losing their field and company officers, lost confidence, and in a panic fell back. Three fresh regiments coming on the field at this time would have formed a nucleus upon which a general rally could have been effected; but while the enemy had reinforcements pouring in upon them momentarily, our entire force was in the field, and badly cut up. Thus was our action maintained for hours. The panic was momentarily increasing. Regiments were observed to march up in good order, discharge one volley, and then fall back in confusion. But there was no lack of gallantry, generally speaking, and not a great many manifestations of cowardice. Our artillery, which made sad havoc upon the rebels, had spent their ammunition, or been otherwise disabled by this time, and in the absence of reinforcements a retreat was inevitable. The time for the last attack had now come. Nearly all of the rebel batteries were in place, though silent. There was a calm an indescribable calm. Every man on the field felt it. I doubt if any one could describe it. Gen. McDowell was near the front of our lines, mounted on his gray charger. And here let me say emphatically, that, whatever may be the criticisins upon his conduct by the military or the abominable stay-at-home newspaper scribblers and politicians, no braver man trod that turf at Manassas than Gen. MeDowell. Major Sykes' battalion of eight companies, five of Third Infantry, two of the Sec-ington, and entrusting this note to the driver ond, and one of the Eighth, were marched several hundred yards to the right, and formed the right flank of the line. Several volunteer regiments were deployed as skirmishers on the centre and left. Thus they advanced to the crest of the hill. The enemy met them with batteries and musketry in front, and two batteries and a thousand cavalry on the right,

treat. Three of his officers had been wounded, and one killed or captured. Several of them were detached, endeavoring to rally the volunteers in front, and have them march off in some sort of order, so as to protect themselves against the enemy's cavalry, known to be in rapid pursuit. On this duty, I recognized his special aid, Lieutenant McCook, of our State, I believe, and another infantry officer, who was also mounted. The road by which the retreat was conducted, the same as that by which we advanced, had been, I think, discovered by the rebels a day or two since. The engineers, in reconnoitring the enemy's position, had been accompanied by a body of troops, who caused such a dust to rise from the road as to make their march easily observable from the heights at Manassas. Retreating by this route, no difliculty occurred in ranging their guns directly upon our line. Major Sykes quickly discovering this, and the cavalry advancing to reconnoitre the pass near Centreville, and charge it if necessary, obliqued the column, getting them upon the turf perfectly protected from the enemy's shell, which were continued to be fired upon the line of dust which was raised in the wake of the galloping cavalry. It was an admirable piece of strategy, reflecting great credit upon the gallant Major, whose conduct in the entire action, to my knowledge, drew forth the most enthusiastic expressions of admiration from both volunteer and regular officers. Were the infantry my arm, I could ask no braver or more capable commander than he. But we are about to renew our march towards Wash

of an ambulance in front of our line, in the expectation that it will reach you early, let me say that if we halt near Alexandria or Arlington, and my horse can stand the pressure, I will not be long in grasping your hand. Till then, my dear fellow, believe me your disgusted and worn-out friend,

-Philadelphia Press, July 24.

NORTHERN PRESS ON THE BATTLE. | superior force which the opening of the spring

Upon the receipt of the first exaggerated reports of the retreat from Bull Run, many weakbacked and nervous individuals began to cry out that it was all over with us; that our inferiority, and the superiority of the rebels as soldiers had been so fully established as to render it expedient for us to be thinking as to what terms we would make with the enemy. Ever since the receipt of the corrected accounts-by which it appears that the disgraceful panic and flight, which constitute, so far as we are concerned, the only alarming part of the affair at Bull Run, and were limited to a comparatively few frightened individuals, a large part of them teamsters and spectators, who, not content with running away themselves, sought, by their false and scandalous reports, to involve the whole army in the disgrace-ever since the receipt of these corrected accounts, there still remain those upon whom this first disaster casts a shade of sadness and alarm, and who see in it a malign omen as to our future success. For the benefit of these doubting Thomases, we propose, by a brief retrospect of some occurrences in the wars of the Revolution and of 1812, to show that panic, flight, disaster, and a certain proportion of cowards, are to be looked for in all armies and all wars, and that they furnish no presumption at all unfavorable to ultimate success.

enabled the British to throw into the St. Lawrence, and the American army retreated out of Canada, in the emphatic words of John Adams, disgraced, defeated, discontented, dispirited, diseased, undisciplined, eaten up with vermin, no clothes, beds, blankets, nor medicines, and no victuals but salt pork and flour," and a scanty supply of those.

The disastrous defeat at Brooklyn, three months later, made a most alarming impression on Washington's army assembled for the defence of New York. When the van of the British crossed from Long Island and landed at Kip's Bay, the troops posted to guard that landing, panic-struck by the late disasters, fled without firing a gun. Two New England brigades, brought up to support them, seized with a like panic, ran away in the most shameful manner, leaving Washington, who had ridden up to view the ground, exposed to capture within eighty paces of the enemy. Then occurred a scene which we wonder that some one of our numerous and gifted artists has not made the subject of a picture. Greatly exasperated at the dastardly conduct of the panic-struck and flying troops, Washington dashed his hat to the ground, exclaiming, "Are these the men with whom I am to defend America?" His attendants turned his horse's head, and hurried him from the field. The occurrence will be found described at length in the Memoirs of Even at the world-renowned battle of Bun- Graydon, a Pennsylvania officer, who seems to ker Hill, every common soldier present at have been present at it. Yet the very next day which, in the ranks of the United Colonies, has these same men sturdily repulsed the enemy, been exalted by a grateful posterity and an, ad- being spurred up to do their duty, by the exammiring world to the rank of a mythical hero-ple of Colonel Knowlton and other brave offieven in that famous battle, cowardice had its representatives in the colonial ranks. The conduct of several officers on that day was investigated by court-martial, and one, at least, was cashiered for cowardice-a precedent which, if all rumors are true, ought to be followed out in the case of the late fight or panic. An American historian who, in his account of the battle of Bunker Hill, saw fit to state the above fact, was very severely handled for so doing by certain patriotic critics, as if he had cast a shadow over the glories of the day. But history is written, or should be, not so much to exalt the fathers as to instruct the sons, and the above incident in the battle of Bunker Hill may now, for that purpose, be put to good use. Even the heroes of Bunker Hill, it seems, had among them a portion of the same leaven which worked so malignantly at Bull Run.

About the whole early history of the Revolutionary War is a series of disasters, interspersed with a few splendid successes. One of these last was the capture of Montreal and the occupation of nearly the whole of Canada by the forces under Montgomery and Arnold. But this success was only short-lived. Sullivan, though sent with large reinforcements, and aided by the intrepid valor of Wayne, found it impossible to hold the province against the

cers, who sacrificed themselves in their eagerness to show the soldiers how to fight. Afterwards, in the disastrous retreat through the Jerseys, on the victorious day of Trenton, these very regiments covered themselves with glory, and gained the right of standing by Washington and their country through the worst extremes of defeat and danger.

So also upon the occasion of Burgoyne's invasion of New York, a year or two later. At first, his approach spread everywhere terror and dismay. St. Clair fled from Ticonderoga in haste and disorder, and the British, pursuing, captured all his baggage and stores. Of three regiments attacked at Hubbardton, one fled disgracefully, leaving most of their officers to be taken prisoners. The other two, though they made a stout resistance, were broken and dispersed, and a large number of them captured. After a disastrous retreat, or rather flight, Schuyler collected the troops of the Northern army to the number of 5,000 men at Fort Edward, on the Hudson. But he could not make a stand even there, and was obliged to continue his retreat to the mouth of the Mohawk.

The loss of Ticonderoga with its numerous artillery, and the subsequent rapid disasters, came like a thunderbolt on Congress and the

Northern States. "We shall never be able to defend a post!"—so wrote John Adams in a private letter. He was at that time President of the Board of War-would to heaven our Board of War had such a head!-"we shall never be able to defend a post till we shoot a general." Disasters, the unavoidable result of weakness, were ascribed to the incapacity or cowardice of the officers. Suggestions of treachery were even whispered, and the prejudices of the New Englanders against Schuyler -for even the North, at that time, was divided and distracted by bitter sectional prejudices, of which now, fortunately, hardly a trace remains-broke out with new violence. But all this disaster and confusion did not prevent, within two or three months after, the glorious days of Bennington and Bemis Heights, and the total capture of all Burgoyne's invading ariny.

Not to dwell any further upon the disasters of the war of the Revolution, of which it would be easy to multiply instances, let us now cast a cursory glance at some of the occurrences of the war of 1812.

now universally admitted, to the incapacity of the Government, and the want of spirit and enterprise on the part of the general in command. Hull was sent to Detroit with a very inadequate force, under order to invade and conquer Upper Canada. Hull's troops were eager for action, and had Amherstburg-the post of the enemy nearest to Detroit, and held by a weak garrison-been attacked immediately, it might have been taken; but, ignorant of the weakness of the enemy, though fully conscious of his own, and discouraged by his isolation from means of succor-for he was 200 miles distant from the nearest frontier settlements, and 500 from any source of effectual support, much worse off in that respect than any of our present generals-Hull wished to fortify his camp, to get his cannon mounted, to give time for the operation of a formidable proclamation which he had issued. While he was thus employed, the British General, Proctor-for Proctor we might read Johnston-arrived at Amherstburg with reinforcements, followed, first by General Brock, and then by Tecumseh, a noble Indian, any parallel for whom we should seek in vain in the ranks of our rebels. Hull thereupon gave over the invasion of Canada and retired to Detroit, where he shortly after ingloriously surrendered to the approaching British and Indians, whereby not only Detroit, but the whole peninsula of Michigan, passed into the hands of the British.

Great was the astonishment and anger of President and Cabinet-though they themselves, by the inadequacy of the forces which they had placed at Hull's disposal, were greatly to blame for it-great the astonishment and anger of the people at the mortifying termination of the first attempt to conquer Canada. But, so far from checking the ardor of the western people, it stimulated them to fresh exertions, and before long a force was placed at the disposal of Gen. Harrison, who succeeded to Hull's command, by which, in the course of the next year, Michigan was recovered, the battle of the Thaines was fought, and Upper Canada temporarily occupied.

Let us note, by the way, a curious circumstance with respect to that war-a circumstance eminently instructive as to the total change which has taken place of late years in the objects, ends, and aims of leading Southern politicians. That war, as everybody knows, was preeminently a Southern measure, of which the great object, and leading end and aim, by which it was alone justified as an expedient undertaking, was the conquest and annexation of Canada. That attempt, had it been successful, would have added so much to the strength and population of the free States as effectually to have curbed all the slaveholding pretensions of the last forty years to govern the nation, and now, failing that, to sectionalize and divide it. Nor is it unreasonable to suppose that such men as Clay, Calhoun, Cheves, Lowndes, and Grundy, who urged the conquest of Canada as the means within our reach to punish the maritime aggressions of England, could have failed to foresee the inevitable consequences of that enterprise had we succeeded in it. They were We might cite other incidents of this war, patriots who sought the glory, welfare, and including the conquest of Washington itself by greatness of the united nation, not the base the enemy, the burning of the national capitol and selfish aggrandisement of a section and athen, as now, in an unfinished condition-and faction. Unfortunately they failed to conquer Canada, but in the impulse which the war gave to our domestic manufactures, and to the growth of our navy, they aided greatly to create the means which will now enable the nation to put down speedily with a strong hand the insolent traitors who have fallen away so rashly from the spirit and example of their noble fathers, and, deserting the altars of republican liberty at which they worshipped, have hastened to pass themselves, and are attempting to compel us and our children to pass through the fires of the Moloch of slavery.

The first efforts of land warfare in the war of 1812 were signally unsuccessful, due, as is

the coming together of Congress, the blackened ruins of the capitol still smouldering, in the patent office, the sole remaining public building, hastily and scantily fitted up for the recep tion of the national legislature. Worse and more alarming than all, we might picture the fierce contentions and embittered spirit of party by which the national legislature was divided when thus assembled in this hour of disaster to quarrel over the past, and with specie payments suspended, and national credit at the lowest ebb, to provide as well as they could for the future. We prefer, rather, to quote a few extracts from Madison's message sent to Congress at that meeting, and which are not with