A few days later, all the troops in Washington crossed the Long Bridge and marched, gallant and exultant, straight toward the enemy in Virginia.  The advance of our army resulted, on the 21st of July, in the shameful disaster at Bull Run.  The North was filled with surprise and dismay, and even the stoutest hearts were burdened with anxiety for the future.  Lincoln at first shared somewhat in the general depression, but his elastic spirits quickly rallied from the shock.  Three or four days after the battle, some gentlemen who had been on the field called upon him.  He inquired very minutely regarding all the circumstances of the affair, and after listening with the utmost attention, said, with a touch of humor:  “So it’s your notion that we whipped the rebels, and then ran away from them!” Not long after this, the President made a personal visit to the army in Virginia.  General Sherman, at that time connected with the Army of the Potomac, says:  “I was near the river-bank, looking at a block-house which had been built for the defense of the aqueduct, when I saw a carriage coming by the road that crossed the Potomac river at Georgetown by a ferry.  I thought I recognized in the carriage the person of President Lincoln.  I hurried across a bend, so as to stand by the roadside as the carriage passed.  I was in uniform, with a sword on, and was recognized by Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, who rode side by side in an open hack.  I inquired if they were going to my camp, and Mr. Lincoln said:  ’Yes; we heard that you had got over the big scare, and we thought we would come over and see the boys.’  The roads had been much changed and were rough.  I asked if I might give directions to his coachman; he promptly invited me to jump in, and to tell the coachman which way to drive.  Intending to begin on the right and follow round to the left, I turned the driver into a side-road which led up a very steep hill, and, seeing a soldier, called to him and sent him up hurriedly to announce to the Colonel whose camp we were approaching that the President was coming.  As we slowly ascended the hill, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was full of feeling, and wanted to encourage our men.  I asked if he intended to speak to them, and he said he would like to.  I asked him then to please discourage all cheering, noise, or any sort of confusion; that we had had enough of it before Bull Run to ruin any set of men, and that what we needed were cool, thoughtful, hard-fighting soldiers—­no more hurrahing, no more humbug.  He took my remarks in the most perfect good-nature.  Before we had reached the first camp, I heard the drum beating the ‘assembly,’ saw the men running for their tents, and in a few minutes the regiment was in line, arms presented, and then brought to an ‘order’ and ’parade rest.’  Mr. Lincoln stood up in the carriage, and made one of the neatest, best, and most feeling addresses I ever listened to, referring to our late disaster at Bull Run, the high duties that