. The junction,
therefore, became an important place for Rebel military operations.
There, in June, 1861, General Beauregard mustered his army, which was to
defeat the Union army and capture Washington. The Richmond newspapers
said that this army would not only capture Washington, but would also
dictate terms of peace on the banks of the Hudson. Hot-headed men, who
seemed to have lost their reason through the influence of slavery and
secession, thought that the Southern troops were invincible. They were
confident that one Southerner could whip five Yankees. Ladies cheered
them, called them chivalrous sons of the South, and urged them on to the
field.

But General Beauregard, instead of advancing upon Washington, awaited an
attack from the Union army, making Bull Run his line of defence,
throwing up breastworks, cutting down trees, and sheltering his men
beneath the thick growth of the evergreen pines.

The army of the Union, called the Army of the Potomac, assembled at
Arlington Heights and Alexandria. General McDowell was placed in
command. Half of his soldiers were men who had enlisted for three
months, who had suddenly left their homes at the call of the President.
Their term of service had nearly expired. The three years' men had been
but a few days in camp. Military duties were new. They knew nothing of
discipline, but they confidently expected to defeat the enemy and move
on to Richmond. Few people thought of the possibility of defeat.

Let us walk up the valley of Bull Run and notice its fords, its wooded
banks, the scattered farm-houses, and fields of waving grain. Ten miles
from the Occoquan we come to the railroad bridge. A mile farther up is
McLean's Ford; another mile carries us to Blackburn's, and another mile
brings us to Mitchell's. Above these are Island Ford, Lewis Ford, and
Ball's Ford. Three miles above Mitchell's there is a stone bridge, where
the turnpike leading from Centreville to Warrenton crosses the stream.
Two miles farther up is a place called Sudley Springs,--a cluster of
houses, a little stone church, a blacksmith's shop. The stream there has
dwindled to a brook, and gurgles over a rocky bed.

Going back to the stone bridge, and standing upon its parapet, you may
look east to Centreville, about four miles distant, beautifully situated
on a high ridge of land, but a very old, dilapidated place when you get
to it. Going west from the bridge, you see upon your right hand a swell
of land, a