The President, having received only cheering bulletins in the earlier part of Sunday, went out for his usual drive in the cool of the afternoon. On his return, about half-past six o’clock, he found awaiting him a request to come immediately to General Scott’s room at the War Department. All his Cabinet had gathered there, and his hurried consultation with them resulted in messages directing various movements of troops in the field, and appeals to the Governors of the loyal States for more men. When he came back to his office, he threw himself upon a lounge, where he spent the night, not in sleep, but in listening to, and closely catechising, parties of civilians who had made their way in from Manassas and had hastened to the White House to pour their disjointed narratives into his ear. By daylight the streets of Washington presented a pitiful spectacle. Ordinary business was almost at a standstill; excited citizens were gathered in knots at every corner; and a multitude of disheartened soldiers, lacking leaders and organization, not knowing where to look for their next orders and thinking with dread of the effect the bad news would have upon their friends at home, were wandering aimlessly about. The President, after twenty-four hours of anxiety, was greatly relieved when the responses from the Northern States began to reach him, showing that the shock had not broken the faith of the people but had awakened them to the realities of the situation. This change was reflected in the Cabinet councils, too, where a sudden revision of opinion was observed on the part of those members who had fancied that the war would be merely a three months’ holiday--a triumphal march of a Northern army from Mason and Dixon’s line to the Gulf of Mexico.