ge for the worse took place till the
Tuesday evening, when the army had fallen back on the river bank; the
troops were actually recrossing when the rain began: then it did come
down in earnest.

Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula mare--

a spectacle frequently repeated in this war--that of a Federal General
"changing his base" in hot haste, without flourish of trumpet.

At the most critical moment, Fighting Joe seems to have been afflicted
with the fatal indecision, by no means incompatible with perfect
physical fearlessness, which has ruined wiser plans than ever were
moulded in his brain. Rumor hints broadly at a sudden fit of depression,
not unnatural in one notoriously addicted to the use of stimulants; but
this is, probably, the ill-natured invention of an enemy.

At all such seasons, some subordinate must needs lift some of the
dishonor from the shoulders of the chief. The non-arrival of
reinforcements is much the easiest way of accounting for a foiled
combination. The rout of Howard's corps was not to be considered, as it
happened under the General's own eye: so Sedgwick was, by some, made the
Grouchy of the day: but he seems to have fought his division as well as
any of his fellows, and it was probably a superior force that checked
his advance towards the main army, and eventually hurled him back upon
the Rappahannock.

Perhaps the Confederate organs do not greatly exaggerate, when they
claim Chancellorville as _the_ victory of this war: though there is a
fearful counterpoise in the loss of the South's favorite leader. But the
great Army of the Potomac, in its shameful retreat, could not console
itself by the boast of having done to death the terrible enemy, at whose
name they had learnt to tremble. A miserable mistake (so the Richmond
papers say) slew Stonewall Jackson, in the crisis of victory, with a
Confederate bullet, as he was reconnoitering with his staff in front of
his line.

Surely it is glory, sufficient for any one of woman born, that the news
of his death should have sent a start and a shiver through thirty
millions of hearts. I subjoin a funeral notice, which utters very simply
and strongly the feeling of the country that the stern, pure soldier
served so well: but a strange honor and respect attaches to his memory
amongst those whom in life he never ceased to disquiet. Even the rabid
Republican journalists rejoice--not coarsely or ungenerously--speaking
with bated tones, as is fit and