marching southward, with their backs to the enemy, the step was lagging and the men dispirited.  A few miles out, as they turned eastward, the brigades were halted and an order was read to them.  “Our gallant army under General Beauregard is now attacked by overwhelming numbers.  The Commanding General hopes that his troops will step out like men, and make a forced march to save the country.”  The effect of this stirring appeal was instantaneous.  “The soldiers,” says Jackson, “rent the air with shouts of joy, and all was eagerness and animation.”  The march was resumed, and as mile after mile was passed, although there was much useless delay and the pace was slow, the faint outlines of the Blue Ridge, rising high above the Valley, changed imperceptibly to a mighty wall of rock and forest.  As the night came down a long reach of the Shenandoah crossed the road.  The ford was waist-deep, but the tall Virginians, plunging without hesitation into the strong current, gained the opposite shore with little loss of time.  The guns and waggons followed in long succession through the darkling waters, and still the heavy tramp of the toiling column passed eastward through the quiet fields.  The Blue Ridge was crossed at Ashby’s Gap; and at two o’clock in the morning, near the little village of Paris, the First Brigade was halted on the further slope.  They had marched over twenty miles, and so great was their exhaustion that the men sank prostrate on the ground beside their muskets.* (* “The discouragements of that day’s march,” says Johnston, “to one accustomed to the steady gait of regular soldiers, is indescribable.  The views of military obedience and command then taken both by officers and men confined their duties and obligations almost exclusively to the drill-ground and guards.  In camps and marches they were scarcely known.  Consequently, frequent and unreasonable delays caused so slow a rate of marching as to make me despair of joining General Beauregard in time to aid him.”  Johnston’s Narrative.) They were already sleeping, when an officer reminded Jackson that there were no pickets round the bivouac.  “Let the poor fellows sleep,” was the reply; “I will guard the camp myself.”  And so, through the watches of the summer night, the general himself stood sentry over his unconscious troops.* (* Letter to Mrs. Jackson, Memoirs page 176.)

(Map.  Situation night of July 17th, 1861.  Showing West:  Winchester, North:  Harper’s Ferry, South:  Warrenton and East:  Washington.)

CHAPTER 1.6.  THE FIRST BATTLE OF MANASSAS OR BULL RUN.

July 19.