When McClellan fell back to the James the capture or destruction of his army seemed a mere matter of time, and it was confidently expected that a disaster of such magnitude would assuredly bring the North to terms.  But the slaughter of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, the unmolested retreat of the enemy to Harrison’s Landing, the fortification of that strong position, induced a more sober mood.  The Northern soldiers had displayed a courage for which the South had not yet given them credit.  On the last of the Seven Days they had fought almost as stubbornly as on the first.  Their losses had been heavy, but they had taught their adversaries that they were no longer the unmanageable levies of Bull Run, scattered by the first touch of disaster to the four winds.  It was no frail barrier which stood now between the South and her independence, but a great army of trained soldiers, seasoned by experience, bound together by discipline, and capable of withstanding a long series of reverses.  And when it became clear that McClellan, backed by the fleet, had no intention of losing his grip on Richmond; when the news came that Lincoln had asked for 300,000 fresh troops; and that the Federal Army of the West, undisturbed by Lee’s victories, was still advancing through Tennessee,* (* After the repulse of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, and the unmolested retreat of the Army of the Potomac to Harrison’s Landing, Lincoln cancelled his demand for troops from the West.) the power and persistency of the North were revealed in all their huge proportions.

But the disappointment of the Southern people in no way abated their gratitude.  The troops drank their fill of praise.  The deeds of the Valley regiments were on every tongue.  The Stonewall Brigade was the most famous organisation in the Confederacy.  To have marched with Jackson was a sure passport to the good graces of every citizen.  Envied by their comrades, regarded as heroes by the admiring crowds that thronged the camps, the ragged soldiers of the Shenandoah found ample compensation for their labour.  They had indeed earned the rest which was now given them.  For more than two months they had been marching and fighting without cessation.  Since they left Elk Run, on April 29, until they fell back to the capital on July 8, their camps had never stood in the same spot for more than four days in succession.

But neither they nor their general looked forward to a long sojourn within the works round Richmond.  The men pined for the fresh breezes of their native highlands.  The tainted atmosphere of a district which was one vast battle-ground told upon their health, and the people of Richmond, despite their kindness, were strangers after all.  Nor was Jackson less anxious to leave the capital.  The heavy rain which had deluged the bivouac on the Chickahominy had chilled him to the bone.  During the whole of the pursuit, from White Oak Swamp to Westover, he had suffered from fever.  But his longing for a move westward