There was a road in the very rear of Hooker.
He intended to seize it, and he was resolved before the night closed down utterly to plant himself so firmly against the very center of the Union army that Hooker's complete defeat in the morning would be sure.
The bugles sang the charge again all along the Southern line, and in the dying twilight, lit by the flame of cannon and rifles, they swept forward, driving all resistance before them.
It was one of the most appalling moments in the history of a nation which has had to win its way with immense toil and through many dangers.
Hooker, brave, not lacking in ability, but far from being a match for the extraordinary combination that faced him, two men of genius working in perfect harmony, had been sitting with two of his staff officers on the portico of the Chancellor House.

He was serene and confident.
He knew the courage of his soldiers and their numbers.

The cannonade in his front had died down.

He was a full-faced man, ruddy and stalwart, and with his powerful army of veterans he felt equal to anything.
There was nothing to indicate that the Southern army was not in full retreat, as he had stated in his dispatch earlier in the day.

The thought of Jackson had passed out of his mind for the time, because his long columns, he was sure, were marching farther and farther away.
Hooker, as the cool of the later afternoon, so pleasant after the heat of the day, came on, felt an increase of satisfaction.