The stories of individual bravery which are furnished by the annals of the conflict, are alone enough to fill a volume, but will probably never be written. The heroic Major knew that he was inviting death, but he never faltered. Indeed, his own words were to that effect, for he said to his officers, “It is the same as saying we must be killed, but we'll do it.” And his words proved prophetic, for he fell, and but few came out of that engagement alive. The twilight was falling, veiling every object in its uncertain light, the trees cast their dark shadows over the path which General Jackson had chosen. As his men, ever watchful, saw the result of their first volley, they became exultant at their success, and again they loaded their guns, discharging them at the form of the leader of the approaching party, who had thus singularly fallen into their hands. They knew that they had wounded an officer, and as he fell from his seat, they rushed forward to learn his rank and name, if possible. Alas, to their consternation, they discovered that their beloved commander, General Jackson, had received three wounds. His steed, mad with fright, plunged wildly forward, and dashed into the depths of the thicket, tossing him against the limbs of the trees in his path, and bruising him most severely. {181} [Illustration: 0190] While his men were sorrowfully conveying him to the rear, a Union battery belched forth its {182}fire down the road after them, one man was wounded, and the General fell to the ground. He was borne to an hospital but lived only one week, after having endured amputation of his arm. [Illustration: 0191] Bounties had been offered in all the Northern States. New York was offering liberal sums to recruits. The new levy for 300,000 men ordered in April had not been filled, and trouble was anticipated, as a draft had been threatened. But in Chicago no such fears disturbed her people. {183} [Illustration: 0192] Ralph {184}found that city full of activity. Groups were gathered on every street corner discussing the war and their hopes of its probable early ending. The South had suffered severely in loss of men and means, and so had the North. Many a family could point to the “vacant chair” and lament the dear one who had gone, never to return. Death had been busy at every fireside and the cruel war had wrought the havoc. But the spirit of patriotism was not dead, but burned more brightly than ever, and those who had lain down their lives were embalmed in the hearts of a grateful people. They fell in a sacred cause, and their memories will live forever.