no further end in view than holding the French in check, the situation of the Confederacy was such that a decisive victory was eminently desirable.  Nothing was to be gained by gaining time.  The South could furnish Lee with no further reinforcements.  Every able-bodied man was in the service of his country; and it was perfectly certain that the Western armies, although they had been generally successful during the past year, would never be permitted by Mr. Davis to leave the valley of the Mississippi.

The Army of Northern Virginia was not likely to be stronger or more efficient.  Equipped with the spoils of many victories, it was more on a level with the enemy than had hitherto been the case.  The ranks were full.  The men were inured to hardships and swift marches; their health was proof against inclement weather, and they knew their work on the field of battle.  The artillery had recently been reorganised.  During the Peninsular campaign the batteries had been attached to the infantry brigades, and the indifferent service they had often rendered had been attributed to the difficulty of collecting the scattered units, and in handling them in combination.  Formed into battalions of four or six batteries a large number of guns was now attached to each of the divisions, and each army corps had a strong reserve; so that the concentration of a heavy force of artillery on any part of a position became a feasible operation.  The cavalry, so admirably commanded by Stuart, Hampton, and the younger Lees, was not less hardy or efficient than the infantry, and the morale of the soldiers of every arm, founded on confidence in themselves not less than on confidence in their leaders, was never higher.

“After the truce had been agreed upon,” says Captain Smith, “litter-bearers to bring away the dead and wounded were selected from the command of General Rodes.  When they had fallen in, General Rodes said to them:  “Now, boys, those Yankees are going to ask you questions, and you must not tell them anything.  Be very careful about this.”  At this juncture one of the men spoke up, and said, “General, can’t we tell them that we whipped them yesterday?” Rodes replied, laughing:  “Yes, yes! you can tell them that.”  Immediately another man spoke up:  “General, can’t we tell them that we can whip them tomorrow and the day after?” Rodes again laughed, and sent those incorrigible jokers off with:  “Yes, yes! go on, go on!  Tell them what you please."”

The Army of the Potomac, on the other hand, was not likely to become weaker or less formidable if time were allowed it to recuperate.  It had behind it enormous reserves. 60,000 men had been killed, wounded, or captured since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the ranks were as full as when McClellan first marched on Richmond.  Many generals had disappeared; but those who remained were learning their trade; and the soldiers, although more familiar with defeat than victory, showed little diminution of martial ardour.  Nor had the strain of the war sapped the resources of the North.  Her trade, instead of dwindling, had actually increased; and the gaps made in the population by the Confederate bullets were more than made good by a constant influx of immigrants from Europe.