New Market is a quaint old town on the valley pike eight miles from above Mount Jackson and is joined by the turn-pike which comes from Front Royal. It traverses the Massanutten mountain by the Massanutten Gap. It was of vast military importance, for here Breckenridge and Siegel met. Moore occupied an elevation north of New Market. Now in place of the thundering cannon and rattling musketry we were listening to a medley of bird notes that fell thick as shrapnel around us. The vast hills covered with their leafy verdure of summer; the rich valley spread below us made radiant by the beauty of the descending sun and a light rain; voices rising on the misty air from the valley below—all seemed to unite in weaving a magic spell for the coming scene. As we gazed out over the peaceful valley a rainbow seemed to spring from a wooded hillside and arch the lovely meadow below us, coloring the fields in the most singular beauty; while its second reflection with softer colors arched like a corona above a high wooded hill. Then followed sunset and twilight with the hymn of the thrush. A single star like a great silver lamp trembled above the summit of a hill, where the gathering mist like a thin gossamer film was settling on its sides.
How different that night of inky blackness, in which a pouring rain continued to fall daring the stormy night drenching the Union men under Moore! Just as the gray of the eastern sky announced the approach of dawn, skirmishers were leaving the camp. A few hours later Siegel came up with the rest of his army to accept battle. The night's rain made the march through the sticky mud of the young wheat very toilsome. Moore was sent in advance to break the enemy's onset. With him were the troops from the 18th Connecticut and 123rd Ohio infantry; the 34th Massachusetts brought up the artillery, while one company was detached and thrown out as skirmishers in the woods of the river bank. The line across the rising ground of another slope in front was held by Moore. What a moment of awful suspense it must have been when Breckenridge moved to attack with the veteran brigades of Echols and Whartons! How the mountain must have sent back the roaring echoes as McLaughlin's artillery went into action on a sharp ridge that ran parallel with the pike! Breckenridge overlapping Moore drove him in confusion to the rear and with scarcely a pause came in excellent order against Thoburn's position, but the gallant men of the Union right checked him, whereupon Imboden, who was in command of Breckenridge's cavalry, galloped with all possible haste down Smith creek on the east bank to the bridge on Luray road in order to get on Siegel's left flank. Here the cavalry were routed and retreated hastily up the road, one battery being captured. Moore's troops rallied on Rude's Hill and the 28th and 116th Ohio were brought up from the charge of the wagons. Siegel resumed his retreat up the pike, crossed the Shenandoah river to Jackson, burned the bridge behind him and went into camp behind Cedar creek.
The country which now lies in quiet beauty here was ravaged. Beeves, sheep, and grain were taken; the mills and factories of Staunton were burned, also the railroad bridges and telegraph wires were destroyed. It must have been a most dreadful sight for the inhabitants of this fertile valley to witness the eighteen thousand men under Crook, Averell, and Hunter marching through the fields of luxuriant wheat that half hid them from view. The ground was comparatively level and an army could spread out and march with much greater rapidity although its numbers were large.
Hunter had to retreat from Lynchburg with Early in pursuit. So closely was he pursued that the mules and horses died for want of fodder and rest; cattle were driven along by day and eaten at night; many wagons had to be burned because there were not enough animals to draw them. Such was the cruel fate of war in this lovely and fertile valley.
But you quickly forget scenes like this as you see these glorious mountains clothed in exquisite veils that brood over their serene loveliness, steeping their sunny outlines in infinite gradations of azure and purple hues. The swift flowing streams with their liquid music rising from the distant woods; the graceful forms of hemlock and elm; the dim twilight vistas always cool and soft with emerald mosses redolent with the breath of pine and sweet scented fern—all combine to make this a place of wonderful charm where you are prone to tarry.
We saw men loading hay in the meadows that were bounded by rail fences, and the fragrance from the fields was wafted to us as we passed. As the road wound among fair scenes where beautiful homes reposed among their delightful setting of trees, shrubbery and vines, we noticed hill rising above hill, some covered with fields of grass and grain, others clothed with forest; while the main line of the Blue Ridge rose sharp and clear against the sky with a series of undulating billows of woodland; green fading into gray-green and gray-green into blue where the Alleghanies lifted their rugged crests and divided the Atlantic from the Middle states, blending imperceptibly into the skyline.
The high hill on which we stood, sloped down to the lovely valley. Across it, other hills began to emerge, imperceptibly at first, then plainly in the distance, then became more and more abrupt, until they grew precipitous and climbed high up, printing their faint outline on the azure sky of June. Looking out over the valley we beheld a memorable scene. What wonderful vistas, with unnumbered miles of fields, forests and mountains, with the blue of the sky for a background!
We were forced to take refuge from a heavy rain storm in a garage located in Charles Town, the county seat of Jefferson county, West Virginia. While we lingered, we were told that the old courthouse in which John Brown was tried was located here. He was hanged in this city. Sadly we turned to look at the old courthouse on Main street where he was sentenced to death. Seven miles from here are located Shennondale springs which are said to be very much like those of Baden-Baden. The town was occupied by both Sheridan's and Banks' army during the Civil war. Two and one-half miles southeast of the city is "Washington's Masonic Cave," where it is said George Washington and other prominent men held Masonic meetings.
We soon were passing through Berryville, admiring the beautiful residences and well kept grounds of the old town, dating from the close of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries. "Greenway Court," the home in which lived Thomas Lord Fairfax, and "Saratoga," the former residence of Daniel Morgan, are located here.
As you near the city of Winchester you see many fine apple orchards with their well cultivated trees extending in long converging lines and "disappearing over the top of some distant hill as if they had no end." It must be a beautiful sight in spring to see the pink and white blossoms of these extensive orchards foretelling an abundant harvest. In June it is one vast expanse of green and gold that lies before you, or stretches away beneath its silvery veils of misty blue. More than three- quarters of a million barrels of apples are shipped from here annually.