wearied by a march of
fourteen miles succeeding one of twenty-two on the previous day,
arrived upon the field of action. The ranks, however, were sadly
weakened, for many of the men had succumbed to their unusual
exertions. Ashby still confronted the enemy; but the Federals had
developed a brigade of infantry, supported by two batteries and
several squadrons, and the Confederate cavalry were slowly giving
ground. On reaching the field Jackson ordered the troops to bivouac.
"Though it was very desirable," he wrote, "to prevent the enemy from
leaving the Valley, yet I deemed it best not to attack until
morning." An inspection of the ground, however, convinced him that
delay was impracticable. "Ascertaining," he continued, "that the
Federals had a position from which our forces could be seen, I
concluded that it would be dangerous to postpone the attack until
next day, as reinforcements might be brought up during the night."*
(* O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 381. The staff appears to have been at
fault. It was certainly of the first importance, whether battle was
intended or not, to select a halting-place concealed from the enemy's
observation.) Ashby was directed to detach half his cavalry* (* 140
sabres.) under Major Funsten in order to cover the left flank; and
Jackson, ascertaining that his men were in good spirits at the
prospect of meeting the enemy, made his preparations for fighting his
first battle.

The position occupied by the Federals was by no means ill-adapted for
defence. The country round Winchester, and indeed throughout the
Valley of the Shenandoah, resembles in many of its features an
English landscape. Low ridges, covered with open woods of oak and
pine, overlook green pastures and scattered copses; and the absence
of hedgerows and cottages gives a park-like aspect to the broad acres
of rich blue grass. But the deep lanes and hollow roads of England
find here no counterpart. The tracks are rough and rude, and even the
pikes, as the main thoroughfares are generally called, are flush with
the fields on either hand. The traffic has not yet worn them to a
lower level, and Virginia road-making despises such refinements as
cuttings or embankments. The highways, even the Valley pike itself,
the great road which is inseparably linked with the fame of Stonewall
Jackson and his brigade, are mere ribbons of metal laid on swell and
swale. Fences of the rudest description, zigzags of wooden rails, or
walls of loose