rom Harrisonburg is a tract of forest, crowning a long
ridge; and within the timber the Confederate squadrons occupied a
strong position. The enemy, 800 strong, pursued without precaution,
charged up a gentle hill, and were repulsed by a heavy fire. Then
Ashby let loose his mounted men on the broken ranks, and the Federals
were driven back to within half a mile of Harrisonburg, losing 4
officers and 30 men.

Smarting under this defeat, Fremont threw forward a still stronger
force of cavalry, strengthened by two battalions of infantry. Ashby
had already called up a portion of the brigade which supported him,
and met the attack in a clearing of the forest. The fight was fierce.
The Confederates were roughly handled by the Northern riflemen, and
the ranks began to waver. Riding to the front, where the opposing
lines were already at close range, Ashby called upon his infantry to
charge.

As he gave the order his horse fell heavily to the ground. Leaping to
his feet in an instant, again he shouted, "Charge, men! for God's
sake, charge!" The regiments rallied, and inspired by his example
swept forward from the wood. But hardly had they left the covert when
their leader fell, shot through the heart. He was speedily avenged.
The men who followed him, despite the heavy fire, dashed at the enemy
in front and flank, and drove them from their ground. The cavalry,
meanwhile, had worked round in rear; the horse artillery found an
opportunity for action; and under cover of the night the Federals
fell back on Harrisonburg.

The losses of the Union troops were heavy; but the Confederate
victory was dearly purchased. The death of Ashby was a terrible blow
to the Army of the Valley. From the outbreak of the war he had been
employed on the Shenandoah, and from Staunton to the Potomac his was
the most familiar figure in the Confederate ranks. His daring rides
on his famous white charger were already the theme of song and story;
and if the tale of his exploits, as told in camp and farm, sometimes
bordered on the marvellous, the bare truth, stripped of all
exaggeration, was sufficient in itself to make a hero. His reckless
courage, his fine horsemanship, his skill in handling his command,
and his power of stimulating devotion, were not the only attributes
which incited admiration. "With such qualities," it is said, "were
united the utmost generosity and unselfishness, and a delicacy of
feeling equal to a woman's." His loss came home with