The delay had been exceedingly unfortunate.  At 9 A.M.  Stuart’s cavalry had occupied the Evelington Heights, and, believing that Longstreet was close at hand, had opened fire with a single howitzer on the camps below.  The consternation caused by this unlooked-for attack was great.  But the Federals soon recovered from their surprise, and, warned as to the danger of their situation, sent out infantry and artillery to drive back the enemy and secure the heights.  Stuart, dismounting his troopers, held on for some time; but at two o’clock, finding that the Confederate infantry was still six or seven miles distant, and that his ammunition was failing, he gave up the Heights, which were immediately fortified by the enemy.  Had the cavalry commander resisted the temptation of spreading panic in the enemy’s ranks, and kept his troops under cover, infantry and artillery might possibly have been brought up to the Heights before they were occupied by the Federals.  In any case, it was utterly useless to engage a whole army with one gun and a few regiments of cavalry, and in war, especially in advanced guard operations, silence is often golden.* (* The military student will compare the battles of Weissembourg, Vionville, and Gravelotte in 1870, all of which began with a useless surprise.) It was not till they were warned by the fire of Stuart’s howitzer that the Federals realised the necessity of securing and intrenching the Evelington Heights, and it is within the bounds of possibility, had they been left undisturbed, that they might have neglected them altogether.  McClellan, according to his letters already quoted, believed that the condition of the roads would retard the advance of the enemy; and, as is evident from a letter he wrote the same morning, before the incident took place, he was of opinion that there was no immediate need for the occupation of a defensive position.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 pages 291 to 292.)

During this day the Valley divisions, crawling in rear of Longstreet, had marched only three miles; and such sluggish progress, at so critical a moment, put the climax to Jackson’s discontent.  His wrath blazed forth with unwonted vehemence.  “That night,” says Dabney,* (* Letter to the author.) “he was quartered in a farmhouse a mile or two east of Willis’ Church.  The soldier assigned to him as a guide made a most stupid report, and admitted that he knew nothing of the road.  Jackson turned on him in fierce anger, and ordered him from his presence with threats of the severest punishment.  On retiring, he said to his staff, “Now, gentlemen, Jim will have breakfast for you punctually at dawn.  I expect you to be up, to eat immediately, and be in the saddle without delay.  We must burn no more daylight.”  About daybreak I heard him tramping down the stairs.  I alone went out to meet him.  All the rest were asleep.  He addressed me in stern tones:  “Major, how is it that this staff never will be punctual?” I replied:  “I am in time; I cannot control