all day, he soon obtained some bread and meat from
the nearest squad of soldiers, and after they had satisfied their
hunger, they slept soundly on the rail-bed in a fence-corner."

Such was the battle of Kernstown, in which over 1200 men were killed
and wounded, the half of them Confederates. Two or three hundred
prisoners fell into the hands of the Federals. Nearly one-fourth of
Jackson's infantry was hors de combat, and he had lost two guns. His
troops were undoubtedly depressed. They had anticipated an easy
victory; the overwhelming strength of the Federals had surprised
them, and their losses had been severe. But no regret disturbed the
slumbers of their leader. He had been defeated, it was true; but he
looked further than the immediate result of the engagement. "I feel
justified in saying," he wrote in his short report, "that, though the
battle-field is in the possession of the enemy, yet the most
essential fruits of the victory are ours." As he stood before the
camp-fire near Newtown, wrapped in his long cloak, his hands behind
his back, and stirring the embers with his foot, one of Ashby's
youngest troopers ventured to interrupt his reverie. "The Yankees
don't seem willing to quit Winchester, General!" "Winchester is a
very pleasant place to stay in, sir!" was the quick reply. Nothing
daunted, the boy went on: "It was reported that they were retreating,
but I guess they're retreating after us." With his eyes still fixed
on the blazing logs: "I think I may say I am satisfied, sir!" was
Jackson's answer; and with no further notice of the silent circle
round the fire, he stood gazing absently into the glowing flames.
After a few minutes the tall figure turned away, and without another
word strode off into the darkness.

That Jackson divined the full effect of his attack would be to assert
too much. That he realised that the battle, though a tactical defeat,
was strategically a victory is very evident. He knew something of
Banks, he knew more of McClellan, and the bearing of the Valley on
the defence of Washington had long been uppermost in his thoughts. He
had learned from Napoleon to throw himself into the spirit of his
enemy, and it is not improbable that when he stood before the fire
near Newtown he had already foreseen, in some degree at least, the
events that would follow the news of his attack at Kernstown.

The outcome of the battle was indeed far-reaching. "Though the battle
had been won," wrote Shields,