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acuated; furthermore, that Gen. McClellan's vast column is in motion — was, at least — and apparently following upon the rear of a retreating foe. Now, of what the writer has personal cognizance; more than this much I cannot attempt to tell.
Sunday afternoon it was known in Washington that Gen. McClellan had crossed the Potomac.
During the day, also, other important matters had occurred, such as the rapid sending of regiments up the river, apparently with the view to strengthen Geary at Leesburg, and complete the junction of our right and centre.
A movement of the grand column was expected to commence on Monday; one based on the plans of weeks, and not on the as yet unconfirmed flight of our enemies.
So when it eventuated, and, after all, from the latter cause, and in different form and direction from the old strategic plan, no, one was surprised, though great excitement prevailed in Washington.
An excitement increased throughout Monday by the sight of Long Bridge, crowded from
rd.
Was it a year ago?
Say rather yesterday, we thought, and that McDowell, not McClellan, was still leading the onset.
Had the battle of Bull Run been fought, or did we dream of such a contest and defeat, and were we now going to test those fastnesses again, and make the actuality have more noble ending than the dream?
For even now, as such thoughts would occur at sight of every familiar creek and grove, we met McDowell, stern and courtly, just as he rode a year ago, riding back toward Fairfax at the head of his staff.
He had been thus early forward, to make assurance of the evacuation doubly sure, and was rejoining his division — most of which we had left behind, now being at last on the front of our lines, and eagerly dashing onward to the first glimpse of those high, sandy, strongly-defended Centreville ridges, which had kept the grand army so long at bay.
On the route we met picturesque groups of contrabands, who had all night been facing toward the free northern star.
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