threatened; and north of Harrisonburg the blue-coated cavalry were riding far and wide.  While the women and old men looked impotently on, village and mill and farm were at the mercy of the invaders.  Already the Federal commissaries had laid hands on herds and granaries.  It is true that the Northerners waged war like gentlemen; yet for all that the patriotism of the Valley soldiers was sorely tried.  They were ready to go to Richmond if the time had come; but it was with heavy hearts that they saw the Blue Ridge rise behind them, and the bivouac on Mechum’s River was even more cheerless than the sodden woods near Port Republic.  The long lines of cars that awaited them at the station but confirmed their anticipations.  They were evidently wanted at the capital, and the need was pressing.  Still not a word transpired as to their destination.

May 4.

The next day was Sunday, and Jackson had intended that the troops should rest.  But early in the morning came a message from Edward Johnson.  Fremont’s advanced guard was pushing forward.  “After hard debate with himself,” says Dabney, who accompanied him, “and with sore reluctance,” Jackson once more sacrificed his scruples and ordered the command to march.  The infantry was to move by rail, the artillery and waggons by road.  To their astonishment and delight the troops then heard, for the first time, that their destination was not Richmond but Staunton; and although they were far from understanding the reason for their circuitous march, they began to suspect that it had not been made without good purpose.

If the soldiers had been heavy hearted at the prospect of leaving the Valley, the people of Staunton had been plunged in the direst grief.  For a long time past they had lived in a pitiable condition of uncertainty.  On April 19 the sick and convalescent of the Valley army had been removed to Gordonsville.  On the same day Jackson had moved to Elk Run Valley, leaving the road from Harrisonburg completely open; and Edward Johnson evacuated his position on the Shenandoah Mountain.  Letters from Jackson’s officers, unacquainted with the designs of their commander, had confirmed the apprehension that the Federals were too strong to be resisted.  On the Saturday of this anxious week had come the news that the army was crossing the Blue Ridge, and that the Valley had been abandoned to the enemy.  Sunday morning was full of rumours and excitement. 10,000 Federals, it was reported, were advancing against Johnson at West View; Banks was moving from Harrisonburg; his cavalry had been seen from the neighbouring hills, and Staunton believed that it was to share the fate of Winchester.  Suddenly a train full of soldiers steamed into the station; and as regiment after regiment, clad in their own Confederate grey, swept through the crowded streets, confidence in Stonewall Jackson began once more to revive.

Pickets were immediately posted on all the roads leading to Harrisonburg, and beyond the line of sentries no one, whatever his business might be, was allowed to pass.  The following day the remainder of the division arrived, and the junction with Johnson’s brigade was virtually effected.  May 6 was spent in resting the troops, in making the arrangements for the march, and in getting information.