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The enemy admitted a loss down to Friday night of 17,000 men, Pope officially stating his loss on that day to have been 8,000. In one of the Baltimore papers it was said that the entire Yankee loss, including that of Saturday, was 32,000 men-killed, wounded, and prisoners. This statement allows 15,000 for the loss on Saturday. That the loss of that particular day was vastly greater than the enemy admit, we take to be certain. They are not the persons to over-estimate their own losses, and, in the mean time, Gen. Lee tells us that over 7,000 of them were taken and paroled on the field. If they fought the battle with any thing like the desperation they pretend, considering that it lasted five hours, they certainly had more than 8,000 killed and wounded. Four days after the battle there were still three thousand wounded Yankees uncared for within the lines of Gen. Lee. It is very certain, if they were not cared for, it was because the number of wounded was so great that their turn had not come. Our own wounded, not exceeding, it is said, 3,000, could very well be attended to in a day, and then the turn of the Yankees would come. Yet so numerous were they, that at the end of four days three thousand of them had not received surgical assistance. This indicates an enormous list of wounded, and confirms the report of one officer, who puts down their killed at 5,000, and their wounded at three times that figure, making 20,000 killed and wounded, and of others who say that their killed and wounded were to us in the proportion of five, six, and even seven to one. As many prisoners were taken, who were not included in the 7,000 paroled men mentioned by Gen. Lee, we do not think we make an over-estimate when we set down the whole Yankee loss at 30,000 in round numbers. Their loss on Friday, estimated by Pope himself at 8,000, added to their loss on Saturday, makes 38,000. Previous operations, including the battle of Cedar Run, the several expeditions of Stuart, and the various skirmishes in which we were almost uniformly victorious, we should think would fairly bring the total loss of the enemy to 50,000 men, since our forces first crossed the Rapidan. This is a result almost unequalled in the history of modern campaigns.

The results of Gen. Lee's strategy were indicative of the resources of military genius. Day after day the enemy were

beaten, until his disasters culminated on the plains of Manassas. Day after day our officers and men manifested their superiority to the enemy. The summer campaign in Virginia had been conducted by a single army. The same toil-worn troops who had relieved from siege the city of Richmond, had advanced to meet another invading army, reinforced not only by the defeated army of McClellan, but by the fresh corps of Generals Burnside and Hunter. The trials and marches of these troops are extraordinary in history. Transportation was inadequate; the streams which they had to cross were swollen to unusual height; it was only by forced marches and repeated combats they could turn the position of the enemy, and, at last succeeding in this, and forming a junction of their columns, in the face of greatly superior forces, they fought the decisive battle of the 30th of August, the crowning triumph of their toil and valor.

The route of the extraordinary marches of our troops presented, for long and weary miles, the touching pictures of the trials of war. Broken-down soldiers (not all "stragglers") lined the road. At night-time they might be found asleep in every conceivable attitude of discomfort-on fence rails and in fence corners-some half bent, others almost erect, in ditches and on steep hill-sides, some without blanket or overcoat. Daybreak found them drenched with dew, but strong in purpose; with half rations of bread and meat, ragged and barefooted, they go cheerfully forward. No nobler spectacle was ever presented in history. These beardless youths and gray-haired men, who thus spent their nights like the beasts of the field, were the best men of the land-of all classes, trades, and professions. The spectacle was such as to inspire the prayer that ascended from the sanctuaries of the South-that God might reward the devotion of these men to principle and justice by crowning their labors and sacrifices with that blessing which always bringeth peace.

The victory which had crowned the campaign of our armies in Virginia, illuminates the names of all associated with it. But in the achievement of that victory, and in the history of that campaign, there is one name which, in a few months, had mounted to the zenith of fame; which in dramatic associations, in rapid incidents, and in swift and sudden renown, challenged

comparison with the most extraordinary phenomena in the annals of military genius. This remark is not invidious in its spirit, nor is it forced into the context of this sketch. A personal allusion may be spared in the narrative, when that allusion is to the most remarkable man in the history of the war.

We refer to Gen. Stonewall Jackson and that wonderful chapter of military achievements which commenced in the Valley of Virginia and concluded at Manassas. It was difficult to say what this man had not accomplished that had ever before been accomplished in history with equal means and in an equal period of time.

In the spring, Gen. Jackson had been placed in command of the small army of observation which held the upper valley of the Shenandoah and the country about Staunton. It was intended that he should remain quasi inactive, to watch the enemy and to wait for him; but he soon commenced manœuvring on his own responsibility, and ventured upon a scale of operations that threw the higher military authorities at Richmond into a fever of anxiety and alarm.

In less than thirty days he dashed at the Yankee advance, and driving it back, wheeled his army, swept down the Valley, and drove Banks across the Potomac. Returning to the upper Valley, he manoeuvred around for three weeks-in the mean time dealing Fremont a heavy blow at Cross Keys and defeating Shields in the Luray valley-and then suddenly swept down the Virginia Central railroad, via Gordonsville, on McClellan's right, before Richmond. The part he played in winding up the campaign on the Peninsula is well known. Almost before the smoke had lifted from the bloody field of the Chickahominy, we hear of him again on his old stamping ground above Gordonsville. Cedar Mountain was fought and won from Pope before he knew his campaign was opened. Jackson fell back, but only to flank him on the right. Pope retired from the Rapidan to the Rappahannock, but Jackson swung still further round to the North, and outflanked him again. Yet again he gave up the Rappahannock and fell back south of Warrenton, and, for the third time, Jackson outflanked him through Thoroughfare Gap, and at last got in his rear. Pope now had to fight; and the victory which perched upon our banners was the most brilliant of the war.

It is curious to observe with what insolent confidence the North had anticipated a crowning triumph of its arms on the field of Manassas, even when the air around Washington was burdened with the signals of its defeat. The North did not tolerate the idea of defeat. On the very day of the battle, Washington was gay with exultation and triumph over an imagined victory. At thirty minutes past twelve o'clock, the Washington Star published a dispatch, declaring that it had learned from parties just from Fairfax county, that the firing had stopped; and added, "we trust the fact means a surrender of the rebels, and do not see how it can mean aught else." At a later hour of the afternoon, a dispatch was received at the War Department, from Major-gen. Pope, announcing a brilliant victory in a decisive battle with the Confederate forces on the old Bull Run battle-field. It was stated that he had defeated the Confederate army, and was driving it in discomfiture before him. This dispatch had a magical effect. The War Department, contrary to its usual custom, not only permitted, but officially authorized the publication of the dispatch. Citizens of every grade, of both sexes and of all ages, were seen in groups around the corners, and in the places of public resort, speculating upon the particulars and the consequences of the decisive victory reported. The triumph of the Federal arms was apparently shown to be more complete by reason of the announcement that Gen. Stonewall Jackson, with sixteen thousand of his troops, had been cut off and captured.

It was at this point of exultation that another dispatch was received from Gen. Pope, stating that the uncertain tide of battle had unfortunately turned against the Federal army, and that he had been compelled to abandon the battle-field during the evening. The revulsion was great; the untimely hallelujahs were interrupted, and the population of Washington, from its hasty and indecent exultations of the morning, was soon to be converted into a panic-stricken community, trembling for its own safety.

Indeed, the victory achieved by the Confederates was far more serious than the most lively alarm in Washington could at first imagine. The next morning after the battle, the last feeble resistance of the Federals at Centreville was broken. The finishing stroke was given by the Confederates under Gen.

A. P. Hill, who, on the first of September (Monday), encountered a large body of the enemy at Germantown, a small village in Fairfax county, near the main road leading from Centreville to Fairfax Court-house. The enemy, it appears, had succeeded in rallying a sufficient number of their routed troops at the point named, to make another show of opposition to the advance of the victorious Confederates on their territory. On Sunday, the pursuit of Pope's army was commenced and pressed with vigor on the Fairfax Court-house road, and on Monday morning at daylight the enemy was discovered drawn up in line of battle across the road, their right extending to the village of Germantown. Gen. Hill immediately ordered the attack, and after a brief but hotly contested fight, the enemy withdrew. During the night, the enemy fell back to Fairfax Court-house and abandoned his position at Centreville. The next day, about noon, he evacuated Fairfax Court-house, taking the road to Alexandria and Washington.

Thus were realized the full and glorious results of the second victory of Manassas; thus were completed the great objects of the brilliant summer campaign of 1862 in Virginia; and thus, for a second time, on the famous borders of the Potomac, the gates were thrown wide open to the invasion of the North, and to new fields of enterprise for the victorious armies of the South.

The rapid change in the fortunes of the Confederacy, and the sharp contrast between its late forlorn situation and what were now the brilliant promises of the future, were animating and suggestive topics.

Little more than three months had elapsed since the columns of a hostile army were debouching on the plains near Richmond, when the evacuation of the city and a further retreat of the Confederate army were believed by nearly all official persons the most prudent and politic steps that the government could take under the circumstances. Little more than three months had elapsed since our armies were retreating weak and disorganized before the overwhelming force of the enemy, yielding to them the sea-coast, the mines, the manufacturing power, the grain fields, and even entire States of the Confederacy. Now we were advancing with increased numbers, improved organization, renewed courage, and the prestige of victory, upon an enemy defeated and disheartened.

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