He wears
his gray uniform at the head of men already veterans. Shiloh's
disputed laurels are theirs. They are tigers who have tasted blood.
In the rapidly changing scenes of service, trusting to chance for
news of his family, Maxime Valois' whole nature is centred upon
the grave duties of his station. Southern victories are hailed
from the East. The victorious arms of the Confederacy roll back
McClellan's great force. Bruised, bleeding, and shattered from the
hard-fought fields of the Peninsula, the Unionists recoil. The
stars of the Southern Cross are high in hope's bright field. Though
Richmond is saved for the time, it is at a fearful cost. Malvern
Hill shakes to its base under the flaming cannon, ploughing the
ranks of the dauntless Confederates, as the Army of the Potomac
hurls back the confident legions of Lee, Johnston, and Jackson.
The Army of the Potomac is decimated. The bloody attrition of the
field begins to wear off these splendid lines which the South can
never replace. Losses like those of Pryor's Brigade, nine hundred
out of fifteen hundred in a single campaign, would appall any but
the grim Virginian soldiers. They are veterans now. They learn the
art of war in fields like Seven Pines and Fair Oaks.
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