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were being laid, and, with prayer-book in hand, was reading the burial service over them, when General Fremont's artillery threw shell into the group, forced the men to drop the dead bodies they were carrying to the graves, and Mr. Cameron to abandon his religious services. On the next morning General Fremont retreated, and Colonel Munford, pushing forward with his cavalry to Harrisonburg, captured about 200 men, many of them severely wounded, several Federal surgeons, about 200 arms, many wagons, and a considerable amount of camp equipage and medical stores.

In the battles of Port Republic, Cross Keys, and the skirmish in which Ashby fell, the Confederate loss in killed, wounded, and missing was 1,096. No estimate was made of the Federal losses, but as a defeated force generally loses more heavily than its adversary, the Federal casualties were probably greater. Jackson took 975 prisoners, about 1,000 small-arms, and 7 pieces of artillery, with caissons and limbers. One piece of artillery, from Poague's battery, was captured and carried off by the enemy. The battle of Port Republic was one of the most sanguinary of the war. It was fought by Federal troops from the Northwestern States chiefly, the best in their army; and riding over the field after the battle, Jackson said: "I never saw so many dead in such a small space, in all my life before!" The slaughter was indeed terrible. The Confederate loss in killed and wounded was nearly one thousand men-for the losses in the preceding engagements were very slight; the Federal loss was probably greater. The Southerners fired low and fatally. A Northern correspondent, writing from the hospitals of Front Royal, said: "It is a noticeable fact that the majority are wounded in the legs or lower part of the body. One of the men remarked, 'They fired over our heads at Winchester, but they fired under them this time!'" Where the obstinate charge upon the Federal batteries took place, the ground was strewn with the dead and dying. Thus, in the mere amount of blood that was shed, the battle of Port Republic was remarkable and memorable; but this is the least of its grounds to be ranked among

the famous conflicts of the late revolution in Virginia. It was the final and decisive blow struck at the Federal campaign in the Valley. It crushed, inexorably, in a few short hours, the hopes and aspirations of the two leaders who had so long and persistently followed Jackson. It disembarrassed the Confederate commander of his adversaries in that direction, and enabled him to make his swift march against the right flank of General McClellan on the Chickahominy.

It was the successful termination of a series of manœuvres, which bear upon their face the unmistakable impress of military genius. From the moment when, arriving at the town of Port Republic, Jackson determined to retreat no further, but turn and fight, his strategy was admirable. Up to that time, the sharp claws of Ashby had drawn blood at every step as he retired; but there the tiger crouched, ready to spring. He only did so when the prey was within his reach. The blow delivered at Cross Keys was followed by the more decisive affair at Port Republic; and after that sanguinary contest General Fremont had no longer the ability to assume an offensive attitude. He retired from the conflict, abandoned any further struggle, and his victor remained master of the field. Jackson's despatch announcing his victory was in the following words:

NEAR PORT REPUBLIC, June 9th, VIA STAUNTON, June 10th. Through God's blessing, the enemy near Port Republic was this day routed, with the loss of six pieces of his artillery.

T. J. JACKSON, Major-General commanding.

CHAPTER XVIII.

JACKSON IN JUNE, 1862.

AT sunset on the 9th of June, 1862, the campaign of the Valley had terminated. It had commenced in earnest on the 11th of March, when Winchester was evacuated, and ended on the day of Port Republic, when Jackson had defeated his adversaries and remained in possession of the field.

The reader has had the events of the campaign narrated; what now rose above the smoke, dust, and blood of so many battle-fields, was, Banks, Shields, Milroy, Fremont, with Blenker, Sigel, Steinwehr, and other able soldiers defeated, and the whole upper Valley regained. In three months Jackson had marched 600 miles, fought four pitched battles, seven minor engagements, and daily skirmishes; had defeated four armies ; captured 7 pieces of artillery, 10,000 stand of arms, 4,000 prisoners, and a very great amount of stores-inflicting upon his adversaries a known loss of 2,000 men; with a loss upon his own part comparatively small, and amounting in arms to but one piece of artillery abandonod for want of horses, and a small number of muskets.

The military results, in their bearing upon the whole field of contest, had been very great. At an important crisis in the history of the struggle, Jackson had intervened with his small army, and, by his skill, endurance, and enterprise thrown the whole programme of the enemy into confusion. Their design of combining three heavy columns for an attack upon Richmond had been frustrated by his daring advance down the Valley; all the campaign halted for the moment; and Fremont and McDowell were not only crippled for the time, but their dangerous adversary was in a condition to unite his forces with those of General Johnston, and make that sudden attack on the Chickahominy which led to such important results.

Jackson's campaign in the Valley will always attract the attention of military men, and be studied by them as a great practical exposition of the art of making war. The swift and sudden marches; the rapid advances and successful retreats; the furious onslaughts indicating apparent recklessness, and the obstinate refusal, on other occasions, to fight, from seeming timidity-these communicate to the campaign in question a vivid interest unsurpassed in the annals of the entire war. Looking back over the almost incessant movements of three months, it is difficult to discover any error in Jackson's operations. We have shown that he attacked at Kernstown from inaccurate information; but

that information was furnished by Ashby, the most enterprising and reliable of partisans; and the result of the battle, as the reader has seen, was exactly what Jackson designed. More than 25,000 troops were diverted from the attack on Richmondand this great result had been attained by a force of about 4,000, of whom less than 3,000 were engaged. In regard to the success which had attended the remainder of the campaign, there could be no difference of opinion. The battle of McDowell permanently checked the advance of General Milroy from the west; the advance upon General Banks drove that commander precipitately across the Potomac; and the retreat of Jackson in consequence of the movements of Fremont and Shields against his rear at Strasburg, was a complete success. He brought off all his captured stores and prisoners; outmarched the two columns following him; and finally, by a strategy as successful as it was daring, fought them in detail at Cross Keys and Port Republic, and defeated both. From that moment Jackson was master of the situation, and could look with a grim smile toward his retreating adversaries.

This campaign made the fame of Jackson as a commander. In the operations of March to June, in the Valley, he had displayed his great faculties fully-his far-seeing generalship, his prudent boldness, and that indomitable resolution and tenacity of purpose which no storm could shake. Under the quiet and unpretending exterior was a soul which was not born to bend, and a will which broke down every obstacle in the path of its possessor. The rumor of his rapid movements and constant successes came like a wind from the mountains to the Confederate capital, and infused fresh life into the languid pulses and desponding hearts of the people. This will be remembered by many readers of these pages. The performer of these great achievements began to be looked upon as the "Man of Fate," whose mission was to overthrow all Federal generals who were opposed to him. His military traits were the common talk and admiration; his astonishing equanimity in the face of peril; his cool determination not to yield; his refusal to entertain the idea

that he could be defeated; and the belief that, with his men, he could go anywhere and achieve any thing. The South had found a military hero in the quiet soldier who concealed under his face of bronze such wonderful faculties. In June, 1862, Jackson was already the idol of the popular heart; and this was the result of his campaign in the Valley.

The fate of that region was now settled for the time, and the victor of Port Republic was called upon to enter, without pausing, upon another struggle, on a new arena. The Valley was exhausted; every portion of its highways and by-ways had been trodden by the "Foot Cavalry," until they knew and attached sad or pleasant recollections-memories of fatigue and suffering, or of rest and refreshment-to every stone, and bank, and spreading tree upon the roadside; *the mountains must now be left behind, and the army must set out for fresh fields of combat in the lowland. Before proceeding with our narrative, however, we shall give a brief outline of Jackson as he appeared at this time, all covered with the dust of the arena upon which the famous athlete had overthrown Banks, Fremont, and their associates. The popular idea of a general is a finely-dressed individual, covered with braid, mounted upon a prancing charger, and followed by a numerous and glittering staff. The personal appearance and equipments of Jackson were in entire contrast to this popular fancy. He wore, at this time, an old sun-embrowned coat of gray cloth, originally a very plain one, and now almost out at elbows. To call it sun-embrowned, however, is scarcely to convey an adequate idea of the extent of its discoloration. It had that dingy hue, the result of exposure to rain and snow and scorching sunshine which is so unmistakable. It was plain that the General had often stretched his weary

So numerous were Jackson's marches backward and forward over the Valley turnpike, that his men came to know, and would afterwards recognize the most insignificant objects. "There is the very stone I sat down on in May, '62," said one of his old brigade with whom the writer rode over this ground; and, going a little further, he added: "I remember perfectly lying down under that tree yonder."

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