“The Confederates, behind rocks and a rude intrenchment, are obliged to expose their heads to take aim at the advancing column; but the Union troops, posted behind the huge oaks and maples, can stand erect, and load and fire, fully protected.  Though they are outnumbered ten to one, the contest is therefore, for a time, not so very unequal.

“But soon the Confederates, exhausted with the obstinate resistance, rush from cover, and charge upon the little handful with the bayonet.  Slowly they are driven down the hill, and two of them fall to the ground wounded.  One never rises; the other, a lad of only eighteen, is shot through the thigh, and one of his comrades turns back to bear him to a place of safety.  The advancing Confederates are within thirty feet, when one of them fires, and his bullet strikes a tree directly above the head of the Union soldier.  He turns, levels his musket, and the Confederate is in eternity.  Then the rest are upon him; but, zigzagging from tree to tree, he is soon with his driven column.  But not far are the brave boys driven.  A few rods lower down they hear the voice of the brave Captain Williams, their leader.

“‘To the trees again, my boys!’ he cries.  ’We may as well die here as in Ohio!’

“To the trees they go, and in a moment the advancing horde is checked, and then rolled backward.  Up the hill they turn, firing as they go, and the little band follows.  Soon the Confederates reach the spot where the Hiram boy lies wounded, and one of them says:  ’Boy, give me your musket.’

“‘Not the gun, but its contents,’ cries the boy, and the Confederate falls mortally wounded.  Another raises his weapon to brain the prostrate lad, but he too falls, killed with his comrade’s own rifle.  And all this is done while the hero-boy is on the ground, bleeding.  An hour afterward his comrades bear the boy to a sheltered spot on the other side of the streamlet, and then the first word of complaint escapes him.  As they are taking off his leg, he says, in his agony, ‘Oh, what will mother do?’”

Poor boy!  At that terrible moment, in the throes of his fierce agony, he thought not of himself, but of the mother at home, who was dependent on his exertions for a livelihood.  For in war it is not alone the men in the field who are called upon to suffer, but the mothers, the wives, and the children, left at home, whose hearts are rent with anxiety—­to whom, at any moment, may come the tidings of the death of their loved one.

On a rocky height, commanding the field, Garfield watched the tide of battle.  He saw that it was unequal, and that there was danger that his troops would be overmatched.  He saw that they were being driven, and that they would lose the hill if not supported.

Instantly he ordered to the rescue five hundred of the Ohio Fortieth and Forty-second, under Major Pardee and Colonel Craven.  They dashed boldly into the stream, holding their cartridge-boxes above their heads, and plunged into the fight, shouting: