While Congress was engaged in legislative duties in Washington, the military forces of the Confederate States were gathering in Virginia, with the principal force at Manassas, about twenty-five miles southwest of Washington, under the command of General Beauregard. The Union troops, composed mainly of three months' volunteers, were in camp occupying the region about Washington on both banks of the Potomac River, under the immediate command of General McDowell, but with Lieutenant General Scott in full command. I frequently visited the Union camps where the soldiers, fresh from civil life and confident of easy success over the "rebels," were being drilled. The cry was, "On to Richmond!" They could not foresee the magnitude of the task they had undertaken. I will not attempt to narrate the incidents of the Battle of Bull Run. I knew it was to be fought on Sunday, the 21st of July. Soon after noon of that day I mounted my horse, and with James Rollins, a Member of Congress from Missouri, called on General Scott, and inquired for news of the battle then going on. He told us he was quite sure of a favorable result, but feared the loss of his gallant officers as, the troops being raw, it would be necessary for their officers to lead them. We crossed the pontoon bridge from Georgetown, and then, passing by Arlington, we went to a new fort on the main road from the Long Bridge. As we approached we could hear the distant firing of cannon. We asked a sentinel on duty if he had heard the sound all day. He said, "Yes, but not so loud as now." This was significant but not encouraging. We returned to my lodgings on Fifteenth street. Everywhere there was an uneasy feeling. At eight o'clock in the morning I started for the residence of the Secretary of War to get information of the battle. As I approached I was seized by the arm, and, turning, saw Secretary Cameron. I asked about the battle, but, without answering, he hurried me into the house and said: "Our army is defeated, and my brother is killed." He then gave way to passionate grief. His brother, Colonel Cameron, had been killed, and the Union army was in full retreat. I was enjoined to say nothing until morning. I obeyed his injunction. At eleven o'clock that night I heard the clatter of a horse's feet in full gallop. My nephew, Robert McComb, a boy about nineteen, a private soldier in an Ohio regiment, but detailed as an orderly, had been sent to the rear with a message. He saw the army in retreat, and, being well mounted and believing that discretion was the better part of valor, rode rapidly to my lodgings in Washington. It is uncertain whether he or "Bull-Run" Russell, an English reporter, made the best time to the Long Bridge. McComb gave me a doleful account of the battle and retreat. The official reports from both armies show that it was a drawn battle. General Sherman, in his "Memoirs," gives a graphic history of the battle and expresses the same opinion.