After marching four miles, the leading column of the army was checked by General Stricker, who with three thousand men had taken post near the head of Bear Creek. A sharp skirmish ensued, in which the two companies of Levering and Howard under Major Heath and Captain Aisquith's rifle company, fought gallantly. General Ross, hearing the firing rode forward, and mingled with the skirmishers, to ascertain the cause of it, when he was pierced by the unerring ball of a rifleman, and fell in the road. His riderless horse went plunging back towards the main army, his "saddle and housings stained with blood, carrying the melancholy news of his master's fate to the astonished troops." Stretched by the road side, the dying general lay writhing in the agonies of death. He had only time to speak of his wife and children, before he expired. He was a gallant, skillful and humane officer, and his part in the burning of Washington, must be laid to his instructions rather than to his character. The command devolved on Colonel Brooke, who gave the orders to advance. General Stricker defended his position firmly, but at length was compelled to fall back on his reserve, and finally took post within half a mile of the intrenchments of the city. This ended the combat for the day. The next morning Colonel Brooke recommenced his march, and advanced to within two miles of the intrenchments, where he encamped till the following morning, to wait the movements of the fleet. In the mean time, Cochrane had moved up to within two miles and a half of the fort, and forming his vessels in a semi-circle, began to bombard it. These works, under the command of Major Armstead, had no guns sufficiently heavy to reach the vessels, which all that day threw shells and rockets, making a grand commotion but doing little damage. At night, Cochrane moved his fleet farther up, and opened again. The scene then became grand and terrific. It was dark and rainy, and amid the gloom, rockets and shells, weighing, some of them, two hundred and fifty pounds, rose heavenward, followed by a long train of light, and stooping over the fort burst with detonations that shook the shore. Singly, and in groups, these fiery messengers traversed the sky, lighting up the fort and surrounding scenery in a sudden glow, and then with their sullen thunder, sinking all again in darkness. The deafening explosions broke over the American army and the city of Baltimore like heavy thunder-claps, calling forth soldiers and inhabitants to gaze on the illumined sky. The city was in a state of intense excitement. The streets were thronged with the sleepless inhabitants, and the tearful eyes and pallid cheeks of women, attested the anguish and fear that wild night created. As soon as Armstead discovered that the vessels had come within range, he opened his fire with such precision that they were compelled to withdraw again, content with their distant bombardment. At length a sudden and heavy