May 23.

On the morning of May 23 there was no token of the approaching storm.  The day was intensely hot, and the blue masses of the mountains shimmered in the summer haze.  In the Luray Valley to the south was no sign of life, save the buzzards sailing lazily above the slumbrous woods.  Suddenly, and without the least warning, a long line of skirmishers broke forward from the forest.  The clear notes of the Confederate bugles, succeeded by the crash of musketry, woke the echoes of the Blue Ridge, and the Federal pickets were driven in confusion through the village.  The long roll of the drums beat the startled camp to arms, and Kenly hastily drew up his slender force upon a ridge in rear.

The ground in front of his position was fairly open, and with his two pieces of artillery he was able to check the first rush of the Confederate infantry.  The guns which had accompanied their advanced guard were only smooth-bores, and it was some time before a battery capable of making effective reply to the Federal pieces was brought up.  As soon as it opened fire the Southern infantry was ordered to attack; and while one regiment, working round through the woods on the enemy’s left, endeavoured to outflank his guns, four others, in successive lines, advanced across the plain against his front.  The Federals, undismayed by the disparity of numbers, were fighting bravely, and had just been reinforced by a squadron of New York regiment, when word was brought to their commander that a regiment of Southern cavalry had appeared between the rivers to his right rear.  He at once gave the order to retire.  The movement was carried out in good order, under heavy musketry, and the tents and stores were given to the flames; but an attempt to fire the bridges failed, for the Louisiana infantry, rushing recklessly forward, darted into the flames, and extinguished the burning brands.  Sufficient damage was done, however, to render the passage of the North Fork by the Confederates slow and difficult; and Kenly took post on Guard Hill, a commanding ridge beyond the stream.  Again there was delay.  The smoke of the burning camp, rolling past in dense volumes, formed an impenetrable screen; the river was deep and turbulent, with a strong current; and the Federal guns commanded the single bridge.  The cavalry, however, were not long in discovering a practicable ford.  The river was soon alive with horsemen; and, forcing their way through the swirling waters, four squadrons of the 6th Virginia, accompanied by Jackson, gained the further bank, and formed up rapidly for pursuit.  The enemy had already retired, and the dust of the retreating column warn receding fast down the road to Winchester.

Without waiting for reinforcements, and without artillery, Jackson urged the 6th Virginia forward.  The country through which the turnpike runs is rolling and well-farmed, and the rail fences on either hand made movement across the fields by no means easy.  But the Confederate advance was vigorous.  The New York cavalry, pressed at every point, were beginning to waver; and near the little hamlet of Cedarville, some three miles from his last position, Kenly gave orders for his infantry to check the pursuit.