Life and select literary remains of Sam Houston of Texas/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
The night which preceded the bloody battle of San Jacinto exhibited one man over whose mind there passed no anxious vision. Witnessing the first meeting of the hostile armies, he had remained on horseback as a target exposed to artillery. The bit of his horse's bridle was struck by shot, and cannon balls cut down branches over his head. To make surprise impossible he had doubled the vigilance of his encampment. Having taken little rest and eaten scarcely anything for several days, his staff urged him to take some rest. While his men were hastily eating the beef found so difficult to cook, he reclined under an old oak, with a coil of artillery rope for a pillow. He had rested but little from the time of taking the command. His only time for repose was after four o'clock in the morning. At four o'clock in the morning he beat three taps of the drum, the line was formed, and his men kept under arms till daylight. Laying down, he then rested till his men had taken their breakfast, and were ready to march. He had waited in vain for expected troops and supplies. His men were dispirited, and desertions had been caused by the fall of the Alamo and the massacre of Fannin's command. Consternation filled the country. The officers of Government had removed from the scene of danger to Galveston. He was without supplies or a transport in a new country. Half-armed and half-clad men were his soldiers. A powerful and cruel enemy was in his neighborhood. The picket guards of his opponent's forces exceeded in number all the men in his camp. He had difficulty in deciding on the day of battle, and he could hardly imagine its scene. But notwithstanding the terrors of suspense, and the presence of the enemy, having posted faithful guards, this man of iron will slept calmly and soundly through the night. The usual three taps of the drum (always beaten heretofore by Gen. Houston) were beaten by a stranger as the morning of the last day of Texan servitude dawned. The 700 comrades of the chieftain springing to their feet, engaged in union in preparation for battle. The chieftain hero still rested quietly and calmly. His men had taken the final meal before independence was won. The sun shone with no intervening cloud in the face of the hero, and waked him to battle. He surveyed his men under arms, ready for battle, " the sun of Austerlitz has risen again." No shade of trouble marred the dignified repose of his calm face. Col. John Forbes, his Commissary General, was ordered to provide two good axes. Sending for Deaf Smith, and taking this faithful and fearless man aside, he ordered him to conceal the axes safely in some place, where at a minute's warning he could lay his hands upon them. The General enjoined Smith not to pass the lines of the sentinels that day without specific orders, and not to be beyond his call.
About 9 o'clock a powerful force which had come to join the Mexicans was seen to be moving over a swell of the prairie in the direction of Santa Anna's camp. The Texan lines were not a little excited by the spectacle. Apprehending the effect upon his men of the appearance of this reinforcement of the enemy, Houston coolly remarked " that they were the same men they had seen the day before—they had marched round the swell in the prairie, and returned in sight of the Texan camp to alarm their foe—with the appearance of an immense reinforcement, for it was very evident Santa Anna did not wish to fight. But it was all a ruse de guerre that could be easily seen through—a mere Mexican trick." Meantime, he sent Deaf Smith and a comrade with confidential orders to reconnoitre in the rearward of this force and report to him. Soon the spies returned, and reported publicly " that the General was right—it was all a humbug." Deaf Smith reported a different story in the private ear of the commander a few minutes afterward. Gen. Cos, with 540 men, having heard Santa Anna's cannon on the Brazos on the day before, had come by forced marches to reinforce him. The secret was not revealed until it did no harm to divulge it. A council of war, comprising six field officers, at their instance was called at this apparently critical juncture. Seated on the grass beneath a post oak tree, the General-in-Chief submitted alternative propositions—whether the Texans should attack the Mexicans in their position, or whether the Texans should wait for the Mexicans to attack the Texan forces in their chosen position. Two junior officers favored attack, but four seniors objected that it was an unheard-of thing for raw soldiers, with only two hundred bayonets, without cover of artillery, to cross an open prairie to charge a disciplined army. The council was dismissed. Ascertaining with certainty that the men were favorable to an attack. General Houston determined on his own responsibility to give battle. It was proposed to construct a floating bridge across Buffalo Bayou, to be used in the event of danger. Inquiry was nstituted to ascertain if the requisite materials were at command. The inquiring officers reported that they could construct the bridge if allowed to tear down a neighboring house. Gen. Houston replied to the report, "We will postpone it awhile, at all events." Deaf Smith was ordered to report to him, with a companion; going with them to the spot where the axes had been deposited that morning. Taking and examining the axes carefully, he handed the trusty men[1] each an axe, saying: " Now, my friends, take these axes; mount, and make the best of your way to Vince's Bridge; cut it down and burn it up, and come back like eagles, or you will be too late for the day." Both armies had crossed this bridge in their march to the battle-ground of San Jacinto. To cut it down was to cut off all chance of escape for the vanquished.
"This," in his droll way, said Deaf Smith, "looks a good deal like fight, General." There was apparently a wide difference between the calculations of some of Houston's officers and himself as to the results of the day. They, thinking of probable defeat, thought of building a new bridge to facilitate escape; he, determined that his army should come off victorious that day, or leave their bodies on the field, ordered the only bridge in the neighborhood to be cut down and burned up.
Houston commenced preparations for battle, as events had taken the course which he had expected and desired. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon; the Mexicans, concealed behind their breastworks, manifested no disposition to come to an engagement. The plan of attack may be best understood from the language of Gen. Houston's official report after the battle was over: " The ist Regiment, under the command of Col, Sydney Sherman, formed the left wing of the army. The artillery, under the special command of Col. George W. Hockley, Inspector-General, was placed on the right of the ist Regiment, and four companies of infantry, under the command of Lieut. -Col. Henry Millard, sustained the artillery upon the right. Our cavalry, sixty-one in number, commanded by Col. Mirabeau B. Lamar, placed on our extreme right, completed our line. Our cavalry was first dispatched to the front of the enemy's left, for the purpose of attracting their notice, whilst an extensive island of timber afforded us an opportunity of concentrating our forces and displaying from that point agreeably to the previous design, of the troops. Every evolution was performed with alacrity, the whole advancing rapidly in line, and through an open prairie without any protection whatever for our men. The artillery advanced, and took station within two hundred yards of the enemy's breastworks."
No adequate description of the action could be written. Participants in the contest have frequently undertaken to give the writer some idea of the scene. In fifteen minutes the victory was won, more by a slaughter than a battle. Houston and Gen. Rusk, the Secretary of War, were agreed as to the plan of the battle; the former led the centre, the latter had command of the left wing; seven hundred Texans engaged in mortal conflict with over eighteen hundred Mexicans. The sagacious, soldierly mind of Houston, and the lion heart of Rusk, were assured of success. The army was drawn up in battle array, waiting for the charge. The two six-pounders, "The Twin Sisters," had commenced a steady fire, well directed, of grape and canister, which shattered bones and baggage wherever they struck. The moment for victory and independence had come. The war-cry, Remember the Alamo! was sounded out with the charge ordered by Houston. Every soldier was aroused by the inspiring battle charge. The shout of an united army rent the air with the wild words, The Alamo! the Alamo! Terror thrilled the Mexican host. As he had been instructed to do, at that supreme moment Deaf Smith rode up on a horse covered with mire and foam, swinging an axe over his head, dashing along the Texan lines, and exclaiming, "I have cut down Vince's Bridge—now fight for your lives, and remember the Alamo."
Held back for a moment at this announcement, the Texan army in solid phalanx rushed forward with resistless fury upon the breastworks of the Mexicans. At the head of the centre column Gen. Houston urged his horse into the face of the foe. Ready for the attack, the Mexican army, although in great surprise, was drawn up in perfect order. The Texans approached within sixty paces. They had not fired a rifle, when the Mexican lines flashed with a storm of bullets. Fired too high, the bullets flew over the Texan army. Several balls struck Gen. Houston's horse in the breast, and one shattered his ankle. The noble horse for a moment staggered, but was spurred on by his heroic rider. Had the Mexicans directed the aim of their first discharge aright, the Texan ranks would have been sadly thinned. The Texan soldiers pressed on. Each man reserved his fire until he could choose some particular soldier, and, before a Mexican could reload, into his breast a Texan would discharge his rifle-ball. Without bayonets, rifles were converted into war clubs, and deadly aims levelled at the 
To suppose that the Mexicans acted the coward on that fatal day would be a serious and sad mistake. Where they stood in the ranks when the battle began they were slain by hundreds. The vengeance which fired Texan breasts was fierce and resistless. Striking for their homes, their families, their dead kindred, and the undying rights of civil and religious liberty, they battled as none but men free-born, and determined to die free, can ever fight. For a brief period, the Mexican officers and men maintained a firm stand. As fast as they fell, the Texans stamped upon them, trampling on the dead, and rushing over the groaning, the bleeding, the dying, or the dead, to plunge their weapons into the bosoms of those in the rear. When the Mexicans perceived that the onslaught of their Texan foes could not be resisted, some attempted to fly, and were stabbed in their backs. Others, falling on their knees, plead for mercy. Recalling to mind the sad massacre of the "Alamo," and the Texan war-cry, "Remember the Alamo," they cried out, "Me no Alamo; me no Alamo; me no Alamo." A merciless Mexican tyrant had made them, unfortunately, slaves of his imperious will, unwilling or willing witnesses of the brutal massacre of brave men fighting in freedom's holy cause. No other claim for mercy now occurred to them but a disclaimer of complicity in the massacre of the Alamo. The vengeance of men long outraged, and pronounced outlaws and pirates, broke forth, which recognized no bounds of modern warfare.
The right and left wing had either been routed or slain before the centre breastwork had been carried. Several bold charges were made by the Mexicans upon the Texan lines. The battalion of Texan infantry were gallantly charged by a Mexican division of infantry, composed of more than five hundred men. The charging force was three to one of the force assailed. The Commander-inChief, observing the peril, dashed between the Texan and Mexican infantry, and exclaimed, "Come on, my brave fellows, your General leads you." Like a veteran corps the battalion halted and wheeled in perfect order. The order to fire was given by Gen, Houston, and had the guns all been fired by machinery they could not have fired more nearly at the same time. A single discharge, a rush through the smoke, cleaving blows of rifles uplifted struck down those whom the bullets had not slain. Only thirty-two of the five hundred Mexicans survived to surrender as prisoners of war. Gen. Houston's wound in the ankle, meanwhile was bleeding profusely. His horse was dying, and with difficulty could stagger over the slain. Still the General-in-Chief witnessed every movement of his army, and as it rolled victoriously over the field, saw the tide of battle crowning his brave soldiers with unparalleled success. Rarely in human history has there been such a scene. The shock of the Texan advance and attack was resistless. Everywhere the Mexicans staggered,—officers and men, whether in regiments or battalions, cavalry or infantry, were thrown together without order, each bent on individually signalizing himself. Driven from their position they fled before their pursuers. The battle was won. Riding over the field Gen. Houston gave orders for the carnage of the wounded to cease. But he had given the Alamo as the war-cry, and his men could not forget the Alamo, its horrors were too fresh in their memories. The blood of Travis, Bowie, and Crockett at the Alamo, and Fannin at Goliad, cried out for vengeance, and the day of vengeance had come, and it would have been as easy to hurl back the billows of an inrolling tide of the sea. In the report of Gen. Rusk, who minutely observed the occurrences of the day, appears the following statement:
"While the battle was in progress, the celebrated Deaf Smith, although on horseback fighting, was with the infaitry. When they got pretty near the enemy Smith galloped on ahead, and dashed directly up to the Mexican line. Just as he reached it his horse stumbled and fell, throwing him on his head among the enemy. Having dropped his sword in the fall he drew one of his belt pistols, presented it at the head of a Mexican, who was attempting to bayonet him, and it missed fire. Smith then hurled the pistol itself at the head of a Mexican, and as he staggered back he seized his gun, and began his work of destruction. A young man by the name of Robbins dropped his gun in the confusion of the battle, and happening to run directly in contact with a Mexican soldier, who had also lost his musket, the Mexican seized Robbins, and both being stout men, rolled to the ground. But Robbins drew out his bowie-knife and ended the contest by cutting the Mexican's throat. On starting out from our camp to enter upon the attack, I saw an old man, by the name of Curtis, carrying two guns. I asked him what reason he had for carrying more than one gun. He answered, 'D the Mexicans; they killed my son and son-in-law in the Alamo, and I intend to kill two of them for it or be killed myself.' I saw the old man again during the fight, and he told me that he had killed his two men, and if he could find Santa Anna himself he would cut out a razor-strop from his back. . . . When the Mexicans were first driven from the points of woods where we encountered them, their officers tried to rally them, but the men cried, 'It's no use,
it's no use, there are a thousand Americans in the woods.'When Santa Anna saw Almonte's division running- past him, he called a drummer and ordered him to beat his drum. The drummer held up his hands and told him he was shot. He called then to a trumpeter near him to sound his horn. The trumpeter replied that he also was shot. Just at this instant a ball from one of our cannon struck a man who was standing near Santa Anna, taking off one side of his head. Santa Anna then exclaimed, 'D these Americans, I believe they will shoot us all.' He immediately mounted his horse and commenced his flight."
The Texans chased the flying Mexicans far over the prairie, following up the indiscriminate slaughter, and leaving on the ground where the battle began, a larger number than their own, living, dying, or dead. Attempting to escape through the tall grass, multitudes were overtaken and killed. The enemy's cavalry were well mounted. When they saw that further resistance was fruitless, spurring their fast horses, they directed their course toward Vince's Bridge. The victors hotly pursued them. When they came to the stream, to their horror they saw the bridge was gone. Appalled and desperate, some of the flying horsemen spurred their horses down the steep bank; some dismounted and plunged into the stream; some became entangled in their trappings, and were dragged with their struggling horses; others sunk to the bottom, and those who succeeded with their horses in reaching the opposite bank, fell backwards into the river. The Texan pursuers as they came up, poured a deadly fire upon the Mexicans struggling with the flood. Escape was impossible. By hundreds, men and horses rolled together. Blood discolored the stream; dying gurgles mingled with the plashing of waters.
Never before has history recorded an event in such words: "The deep, turbid stream was literally choked with the dead." In the rear of the battle-ground near the Mexican encampment, on the southern verge of the Island of Trees, a spectacle of equal strangeness and horror was witnessed. Many had rushed to this spot as their last hope. The escape in this quarter was slight. A deep morass exhibited no inconsiderable barrier to passage. Horses and mules with their riders plunged into the mire only to be completely submerged. Practiced riflemen prevented the escape of any one likely to escape. The bodies of dead mules, horses, and men made a bridge across the morass.
Almonte, with two hundred and fifty cooler, if not braver, men prepared on the Island of Trees to resist or surrender rather than fly. Rallying as large a body of men as could be assembled, Houston prepared to lead his men to a charge,but his noble horse, that had gallantly borne his rider throughout the battle, staggered and fell dead with seven balls in his body. In dismounting, Gen. Houston struck upon his wounded leg and fell to the earth. For the first time it was now discovered that he was wounded. Gen. Houston immediately called for Gen. Rusk, and gave to him the command. The officers of the staff of the General-in-Chief procured another horse and assisted him to remount. Gen. Rusk, with the newly formed company advanced upon the last remnant of the Mexican army. Almonte, its commander, saved the necessity of conflict, and came forward and promptly surrendered his sword.
The battle-field of San Jacinto was won.
No more strife was required. In a quarter of an hour a battle was fought and a victory won, which in the meagreness of the hosts engaged, and the amazing results which ensued are unparalleled in human history.
The wounded Houston cast a glance over the battle-field and said to his comrades: "I think now, gentlemen, we are likely to have no more trouble to-day, and I believe I will return to the camp."
Resistance to the arms of Texas ceased. The hero of San Jacinto with his party slowly rode from the field of victory to the oak at whose foot the deliverer of Texas had slept the previous night. A command was left to guard the spoils taken from the enemy. Victorious soldiers in crowds came to the commander-in-chief, as he was riding across the field, and slapping him familiarly and rudely on his wounded leg, cried out: "Now, ain't we brave fellows. General?" "Yes, boys, you have covered yourselves with glory, and I decree to you the spoils of victory; I will reward valor; I only claim to share the honors of our triumph with you,"
Before dismounting, while giving his orders after reaching the Texan encampment. Gen. Rusk appeared and presented his prisoner, Gen. Almonte. It was the first time that Houston and Almonte had ever met. It was the finishing stroke to a glorious victory. Exhausted from fatigue and loss of blood, Houston now fainted and fell from his second horse, but was caught by Col. Hockley in his arms, and laid down at the foot of the oak where he had bivouacked.
The bloody battle of San Jacinto was ended. In the annals of war, it is questionable whether it has a parallel.
Its immediate results were not insignificant. Its promise of the future was a symbol of almost boundless empire, changed geography and a perfection of civilization, embracing almost a whole hemisphere. The spoils of victory were indeed valuable to men who owned nothing in the morning but the arms which they carried, their scant and coarse clothing, and the resistless desire to be free and own a free country. "About 900 English muskets (besides a very large number lost in the morass and bayou), 300 sabres, and 200 pistols; 300 valuable mules, 100 fine horses, and a good lot of provisions, clothing, tents, paraphernalia for officers and men, and twelve thousand dollars in silver, constituted the principal spoils."
But the moral and political consequences of the victory far transcended the value of this important booty to needy heroes.
Texan independence was won.
History furnishes in its whole range no spectacle more sublime than this struggle for freedom. In imitation of their ancestors, an outraged, brave people, many of whom tilled the soil on which they fought and for which they had paid in money or labor, not striving for empire nor the glory of a military chieftain, had trusted their cause to the wager of battle. Relying on the God of battles, He had provided for the issue.
Abandoning for a time their fugitive wives, hundreds fought for all that makes life worth living for, or dying for, or gives value to its possessions, eternal freedom for themselves and their posterity.
With the victory of San Jacinto a new era dawned upon the Western Continent.
The Anglo-Saxon race began now to demonstrate the power to rule the new world. France ceased to hold empire in America when the Canadas surrendered to British rule in 1763. Spain had lost control of any portion of the Western Continent, and now her descendants had yielded the sway of a territory grander in extent than France, thus opening a way for a subsequent surrender of a still larger territory on the Pacific coast.
Invited to Texan soil, three hundred emigrants undertook to found a Mexican State coequal with the other United States of Mexico. They asked only that the Federal Constitution of 1824 should be maintained and administered. All they asked for Texas was a concession of the same rights secured to the Mexican States by that Constitution. The superior industry, enterprise, and invention of the new colonists, attributable to that intelligent love of liberty which the Mexican mind did not comprehend and dreaded far more, were a terror to the Mexican Dictators. They regretted that they had invited the 300 Americans to colonize Texas; they resolved that Texas should be a desert, a wide waste, without a civilized inhabitant; occupied, if occupied at all, by savages, and thus prevent all intercourse between Mexicans and the United States of America; thus opposed to progress and enlightened civilized life. Stephen F. Austin, mingling in his grand character the lofty character of the cavalier and the uncompromising nature of the Puritan, led the choice band of spirits who sought to domiciliate themselves in the beautiful province of New Estramadura. Dauntless, incorruptible, the young nation reposed confidence in him. Framing a Constitution, demanding no more than the other Mexican States were allowed, Austin was deputed to convey the Constitution to the City of Mexico. " His very appearance in that city with the prayer of his colony, that the Mexicans would abide by thei!r on Constitution, under whose solemn pledge he had led his people to their new home, was too bitter a sarcasm upon the corrupt tyrants who had trampled down that high compact, and he was plunged into a foul dungeon, where for many months he never saw a beam of sunshine, nor even the hand that fed him."
This inhuman act, defiant of all honor or justice, served only to kindle the flame which was destined to consume Mexican tyranny on Texan soil. A small band of Texans drove four times their number, in 1835, from San Antonio. The Dictator, Santa Anna, resolved to take the field himself. With well-selected and finely appointed troops he advances on San Antonio and retakes it. He summons Travis and his immortal band to surrender the Alamo. With death staring them in the face, either while fighting or by massacre, they refuse to surrender, and die martyrs to liberty, immortal heroes, and in their death insunng victory at San Jacinto and liberty forever. Animated by his savage purpose of extirpating AngloSaxon blood from Texan soil, the despot advances, causing Fannin's immortal heroes to be slaughtered in cold blood at Goliad. Again the fires of liberty are kindled. The despot divides his corps into three divisions, and leads one as by the appointment of a superintending Providence to the destined spot where all hope or possibility of retreat being cut off, the battle of San Jacinto is fought, and Mexican rule on Texan soil forever destroyed.
The moral effect of that battle on the destiny of the American Union has not yet been fully realized. Already it has changed the geographical boundaries of nearly the entire North American continent, and has altered the domestic relations of the Southern States, indirectly if not directly. It has opened the highway for the iron horse from the Atlantic to the Pacific.
Each year, since April 21, 1836, is witnessing new developments of history, all strangely linked with the events which gave victory to Houston and his small band of Texans on the field of San Jacinto. The Battle of San Jacinto.
report of major-general sam houston.
"Headquarters of the Army,
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"San Jacinto, April 25,1836.
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"To His Excellency D. G. Burnet, "President of the Republic of Texas:
"Sir:—I regret extremely that my situation since the battle of the 21st has been such as to prevent my rendering you my official report of the same previous to this time.
"I have the honor to inform you that on the evening of the eighteenth instant, after a forced march of fifty-five miles, which was effected in two days and a half, the army arrived opposite Harrisburg. That evening a courier of the enemy was taken, from whom I learned that General Santa Anna, with one division of his choice troops, had marched in the direction of Lynch's Ferry, on the San Jacinto, burning Harrisburg as he passed down. The army was ordered to be in readiness' to march early on the next morning. The main body effected a crossing over Buffalo Bayou, below Harrisburg, on the morning of the 19th, having left the baggage, the sick, and a sufficient camp guard m the rear. We continued the march throughout the night, making but one halt in the prairie for a short time, and without refreshment. At daylight we resumed the line of march, and in a short distance our scouts encountered those of the enemy, and we received information that General Santa Anna was at New Washington, and would that day take up the line of march for Anahuac, crossing at Lynch's Ferry. The Texan army halted within half a mile of the feriy in some timber, and were engaged in slaughtering beeves, when the army of Santa Anna was discovered to be approaching in battle array, having been encamped at Clopper's Point, eight miles below. Disposition was immediately made of our forces, and preparation for his reception. He took a position with his infantry and artillery in the centre, occupying an island of timber, his cavalry covering the left flank. The artillery, consisting of one double fortified medium brass twelve-pounder, then opened on our encampment. The infantry, in column, advanced with the design of charging our lines, but were repulsed by a discharge of grape and canister from our artillery, consisting of two six-pounders. The enemy had occupied a piece of timber within rifle-shot of the left wing of our army, from which an occasional interchange of small arms took place between the troops until the enemy withdrew to a position on the bank of the San Jacinto, about three-quarters of a mile from our encampment, and commenced fortification. A short time before sunset, our mounted men, about eighty-five in number, under the special command of Colonel Sherman, marched out for the purpose of reconnoitering the enemy. Whilst advancing, they received a volley from the left of the enemy's infantry, and after a sharp rencontre with their cavalry, in which ours acted extremely well, and performed some feats of daring chivalry, they retired in good order, having had two men severely wounded and several horses killed. In the meantime the infantry, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Millard, and Colonel Burleson's regiment, with the artillery, had marched out for the purpose of covering the retreat of the cavalry if necessary. All then fell back in good order to our encampment, about sunset, and remained without any ostensible action until the 2ist, at half-past three o'clock, taking the first refreshment which they had enjoyed for two days. The enemy, in the meantime, extended the right flank of their infantry so as to occupy the extreme point of a skirt of timber on the bank of the San Jacinto, and secured their left by a fortification about five feet high, constructed of packs and baggage, leaving an opening in the centre of the breastwork in which their artillery was placed, their cavalry upon their left wing.
"About nine o'clock on the morning of the 2ist, the enemy were reinforced by 500 choice troops, under the command of General Cos, increasing their effective force to upwards of 1,500 men, whilst our aggregate force for the field numbered 783. At half-past three o'clock in the evening, I ordered the officers of the Texan army to parade their respective commands, having in the meantime ordered the bridge on the only road communicating with the Brazos, distant eight miles from our encampment, to be destroyed, thus cutting off all possibility of escape. Our troops paraded with alacrity and spirit, and were anxious for the contest. Their conscious disparity in numbers seemed only to increase their enthusiasm and confidence, and heightened their anxiety for the conflict. Our situation afforded me an opportunity of making the arrangements preparatory to the attack, without exposing our designs to the enemy. The ist Regiment,commanded by Colonel Burleson, was assigned the centre. The 2d Regiment, under the command of Colonel Sherman, formed the left wing of the army. The Artillery, under the special command of Colonel Geo. W. Hockley, InspectorGeneral, was placed on the right of the ist Regiment; and four companies of Infantry, under the command of Lieut.-Col. Henry Millard, sustained the Artillery upon the right. Our Cavalry, 61 in number, commanded by Col. Mirabeau B. Lamar (whose gallant and daring conduct on the previous day had attracted the admiration of his comrades, and called him to that station), placed on our extreme right, completed our line. Our Cavalry was first despatched to the front of the enemy's left, for the purpose of attracting their notice, whilst an extensive island of timber afforded us an opportunity of concentrating our forces and displaying from that point, agreeably to the previous design of the troops. Every evolution was performed with alacrity, the whole advancing rapidly in line, and through an open prairie, without any protection whatever for our men. The Artillery advanced and took station within two hundred yards of the enemy's breastwork, and commenced an effective fire with grape and canister.
"Colonel Sherman, with his regiment, having commenced the action upon our left wing, the whole line, at the centre and on the right, advancing in double-quick time, rung the war-cry, Remember the Alamo received the enemy's fire, and advanced within point-blank shot before a piece was discharged from our lines. Our line advanced without a halt, until they were in possession of the woodland and the enemy's breastwork, the right wing of Burleson's and the left of Millard's taking possession of the breastwork; our Artillery having gallantly charged up within seventy yards of the enemy's cannon, when it was taken by our troops. The conflict lasted about eighteen minutes from the time of close action until we were in possession of the enemy's encampment, taking one piece of cannon (loaded), four stand of colors, all their camp equipage, stores, and baggage. Our Cavalry had charged and routed that of the enemy upon the right, and given pursuit to the fugitives, which did not cease until they arrived at the bridge which I have mentioned before—Captain Karnes, always among the foremost in danger, commanding the pursuers. The conflict in the breastwork lasted but a few moments; many of the troops encountered hand to hand, and not having the advantage of bayonets on our side, our riflemen used their pieces as war-clubs, breaking many of them off at the breech. The rout commenced at half-past four, and the pursuit by the main army continued until twilight. A guard was then left in charge of the enemy's encampment, and our army returned with their killed and wounded. In the battle, our loss was 2 killed, and 23 wounded, 6 of whom mortally. The enemy's loss was 630 killed; among whom were 1 General officer, 4 Colonels, 2 Lieutenant-Colonels, 5 Captains, 12 Lieutenants. Wounded, 208; of which were 5 Colonels, 3 Lieutenant-Colonels, 2 Second Lieutenant-Colonels, 7 Captains,1 Cadet. Prisoners, 730; President General Santa Anna, General Cos, 4 Colonels (Aids to General Santa Anna), and the Colonel of the Guerrero Battalion, are included in the number. General Santa Anna was not taken until the 22d, and General Cos on yesterday; very few having escaped. About 600 muskets, 300 sabres, and 200 pistols have been collected since the action; several hundred mules and horses were taken, and near twelve thousand dollars in specie. For several days previous to the action, our troops were engaged in forced marches, exposed to excessive rains, and the additional inconvenience of extremely bad roads, illy supplied with rations and clothing; yet, amid every difficulty, they bore up with cheerfulness and fortitude, and performed their marches with spirit and alacrity. There was no murmuring.
"Previous to and during the action, my staff evinced every disposition to be useful, and were actively engaged in their duties. In the conflict, I am assured that they demeaned themselves in such a manner as proved them worthy members of the army of San Jacinto. Col. T. J. Rusk, Secretary of War, was on the field. For weeks his services had been highly beneficial to the army; in battle he was on the left wing, where Col. Sherman's command first encountered and drove the enemy; he bore himself gallantly, and continued his efforts and activity, remaining with the pursuers until resistance ceased.
"I have the honor of transmitting herewith a list of all the officers and men who were engaged in the action, which I respectfully request may be published, as an act of justice to the individuals. For the Commanding General to attempt discrimination as to the conduct of those who commanded in the action, or those who were commanded, would be impossible. Our success in the action is conclusive proof of their daring intrepidity and courage; every officer and man proved himself worthy of the cause in which he battled, while the triumph received a lustre from the humanity which characterized their conduct after victory, and richly entitles them to the admiration and gratitude of their General. Nor should we withhold the tribute of our grateful thanks from that Being who rules the destinies of nations, and has in the time of greatest need enabled us to arrest a powerful invader whilst devastating our country.
"Of the individuals who have purchased lasting renown in this young war, it would be impossible, in this place, to speak in detail, and invidious to discriminate. But there is one among them, whose position forms an exception; and whose early association with myself, justifies and claims the tribute of a particular notice. I speak of him whose romantic victory has given to the Jacinto[2] that immortality in grave and serious history, which the diskos of Apollo had given to it in the fabulous pages of the heathen Mythology. General Houston was born in the State of Virginia, County of Rockbridge; he was appointed an ensign in the army of the United States, during the late war with Great Britain, and served in the Creek campaign under the banners of Jackson. I was the Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment to which he belonged, and the first field officer to whom he reported. I then marked in him the same soldierly and gentlemanly qualities which have since distinguished his eventful career: frank, generous, brave; ready to do, or to suffer, whatever the obligations of civil or military duty imposed; and always prompt to answer the call of honor, patriotism, and friendship. Sincerely do I rejoice in his victory. It is a victory without alloy, and without parallel, except at New Orleans. It is a victory which the civilization of the age, and the honor of the human race, required him to gain: for the nineteenth century is not an age in which a repetition of the Goliad matins could be endured. Nobly has he answered the requisition; fresh and luxuriant are the laurels which adorn his brow.
"It is not within the scope of my present purpose to speak of military events, and to celebrate the exploits of that vanguard of the Anglo-Saxons who are now on the confines of the ancient empire of Montezuma; but that combat of San Jacinto! it must forever remain in the catalogue of military miracles. Seven hundred and fifty citizens, miscellaneously armed with rifles, muskets, belt pistols, and knives, under a leader who had never seen service, except as a subaltern, march to attack near double their numbers—march in open day across a clear prairie, to attack upwards of twelve hundred veterans, the elite of an invading army of seven thousand, posted in a wood, their flanks secured, front intrenched; and commanded by a general trained in civil wars; victorious in numberless battles; and chief of an empire of which no man becomes chief except as conqueror. In twenty minutes the position is forced. The combat becomes a carnage. The flowery prairie is stained with blood; the hyacinth is no longer blue, but scarlet. Six hundred Mexicans are dead; six hundred more are prisoners, half wounded; the President-General himself is a prisoner; the camp and baggage all taken; and the loss of the victors, six killed and twenty wounded. Such are the results, and which no European can believe, but those who saw Jackson at New Orleans. Houston is the pupil of Jackson; and he is the first self-made general, since the time of Mark Antony, and the King Antigonus, who has taken the general of the army and the head of the government captive in battle. Different from Antony, he has spared the life of his captive though forfeited by every law, human and divine."
J. W. Robison's Account of Santa Anna's Capture.
"I have received a letter, requesting me to give you the particulars of the capture of Santa Anna in 1836. It was as follows: On the morning of the 22d, the day after the battle, a party was detailed and sent out under command of Gen. Burleson. This party proceeded in the direction of the bridge on Vince's Bayou. Our object was to pick up any Mexicans we could find who had fled from the battle the evening before, and particularly to search for Santa Anna and Cos. When we reached the bayou we divided into squads of five or six persons in each, and went in different directions. The party I was with consisted of six, all privates, so far as I know. Their names were as follows . Miles, Sylvester, Thompson, Vermillion; another, whose name I do not recollect, and myself. From the bridge we started down the bayou. After travelling about two miles, we saw a man standing on the bank of a ravine, some five or six hundred yards from us. He, no doubt, saw us first, for when we started towards him he sat down on a high place and waited till we came up. It proved to be Santa Anna. I was the only one of the party that spoke the Mexican language. I asked him if he knew where Santa Anna and Cos were. He said, he thought they had gone to the Brazos. I asked him if he knew of any other Mexicans that had made their escape from the battle? He said he thought there were some up the stream in a thicket. I told him we would take him to the American camp. He was very willing to go, but complained of being very tired. I asked if he was an officer! ' No,' he said that he belonged to the cavalry, and was not accustomed to being on foot; that he was run very close by our cavalry the day before and was compelled to leave his horse. When we started with him one of our party dismounted, and went up the ravine to look for the Mexicans spoken of by Santa Anna, and Santa Anna rode his horse some two miles up the road. The man that went up the road, finding no Mexicans, then came and told Santa Anna to dismount. He refused to do it, and the man then levelled his gun at him, when he dismounted, and asked me how far it was to camp. I told him eight or nine miles. He said he could not walk so far. The young man then wanted to kill him, and I told him so. He then said he would try and walk, but would have to go slow; and so we started for camp, and the man got behind him, and would prick him in the back with his spear and make him trot for some two or three miles. Santa Anna then stopped, and, appealing to me, said if he wanted to kill him to do so, but he could not walk any further. I then took him up behind me and carried him to camp, some five or six miles further. After he got up behind we entered into a general conversation. He asked me if Gen. Houston commanded in person at the battle; how many we killed, and how many prisoners we had taken, and when they would be shot? I told him I did not think they would be shot; that I had never known Americans to kill prisoners of war. He said the Americans were a brave and generous people, and asked me what I thought would be done with the prisoners. I told him that I did not know, but the Americans would like the younger ones for servants. He said, that would be very kind. He asked me how many were in our army at the battle. I said, some six or seven hundred. He thought I was mistaken; that there must be more. I said. No; and that two hundred
Americans could whip the whole Mexican army. 'Yes,' said he; 'the Americans are great soldiers.' I asked him, if he was not sorry he had come to fight the Americans. Yes, he said, but he belonged to the army, and was compelled to obey his officers. I asked him, if he was back in Mexico if he would come to Texas any more? He said, No; he would desert first. This brought us to camp, when the Mexican immediately announced his name. He asked to be taken to Gen. Houston, and was taken to him. If you think these facts of sufficient interest, you can put them in such shape as you think best.
The letter of Capt. J. A. Sylvester, stating that Santa Anna rode behind him into the presence of Gen. Houston, has been read, but we prefer to publish Col. Robison's statement, which he repeated to the writer and Rev. Dr. J. H. Luther, in a conversation under his own roof, in July, 1879.
We subjoin from the Galveston News the following:
"The long-talked-of event, the unveiling of the monument contributed by the citizens of Galveston to the brave men who fell at San Jacinto, took place at the Pavilion, August 25, 1881, in the presence of an audience that filled the vast auditorium. The rich and the poor, those of high and of low estate, were present, filled with one desire, to add by their presence to the tribute so tardily bestowed upon the memory of sterling valor and heroic deeds.
"The programme which had been arranged for the occasion was of peculiar appropriateness, and in its execution was complied with, with a faithfulness and promptness that admitted not of complaint.
"A description of the monument, published in The News of the 7th of August, is reproduced in this connection.
"It is a plain, square spire, with pediment cap, moulded base, and chamfered sub-base. It is of blue American marble, fifteen and one-half feet high, and when placed in its position with the foundation, will be two feet higher. Upon the front is a die of white marble in which is set a star and nimbus, surrounded by a wreath of oak and laurel leaves. Near the top is a polished band containing eight cut stars. These were intended to represent the eight persons who were killed in the battle, but as since the work was completed it has been discovered that there were nine slain, another star will have to be added. The lettering on the base will be full, covering the three sides that now are unfilled. On the reverse side will be given the names of the fallen. To the right will be the words of Houston two days before the battle:
'"This morning we are in preparation to meet Santa Anna. It is the only chance of saving Texas. From time to time I have looked for reinforcements in vain. We will only have about 700 men to march with besides the camp guard. We go to conquer. It is wisdom growing out of necessity to meet the enemy now. Every consideration enforces it. No previous occasion would justify it. The troops are in fine spirits, and now is the time for action. We shall use our best efforts to fight the enemy to such advantage as will insure victory, though the odds are greatly against us. I leave the results in the hands of a wise God,
and rely upon His providence. My country will do justice to those who serve her. The rights for which we fight will be secured and Texas free.
" 'Sam Houston.'
"On the opposite or left side will appear the words of Rusk one day after the battle:
'"At Camp on the Battle-Field.—This glorious achievement was attributed not to superior force, but to the valor of our soldiers, and the sanctity of our cause. Our army consisted of 750 effective men The sun was sinking in the horizon as the battle commenced, but at the close of the conflict the sun of liberty and independence rose in Texas, never, it is to be hoped, to be obscured by the clouds of despotism. We have read of deeds of chivalry and perused with ardor the annals of war; we have contemplated with highest emotions of sublimity the loud warring thunder, the desolating tornado, and the withering simoon of the desert, but no one of these, nor all, inspired us with emotions like those felt on this occasion. There was a general cry which pervaded the ranks, "Remember the Alamo! Remember La Bahia I," These words electrified us. Onward was the cry. The unerring aim and the irresistible energy of the Texan army could not be withstood. It was free men fighting against the minions of tyranny, and the result proves the inequality of such a contest.'
"At the front of the die will be the name of B. R. Brigham; on the base the name, 'San Jacinto.' Upon one side of the pediment will be the words, 'Remember Goliad.' On the other, 'Come to the Bower,' the air to which the Texans marched to the fight. On the reverse of the base will be Napoleon's words, 'Dead on the field of Honor.'
"It was set in the center of the stage last night, supported upon either side by a howitzer from the Galveston Artillery. Immediately in its rear a detachment of the Washington Guards were formed in a quarter circle, at 'rest on arms.' Four artillerymen manned each gun, standing also 'at test.'
"At 8.30 o'clock Lindenberg's orchestra began playing an overture from Meyerbeer's Huguenots. At the conclusion of the overture, the curtains were drawn, and the striking tableau presented. Upon the right of the monument stood Mr. Oscar Farish, of this city, and on the left Capt. R. J. Calder, of Richmond, Texas, both veterans of San Jacinto, and the latter the only surviving captain of the gallant little army, who fought the invaders forty-five years ago. To him was delegated the task of unveiling the shaft, and as he slowly lowered the flag the act was greeted by an outburst of applause. The band sounded the notes of 'Will You Come to the Bower,' the music to which the Texans marched into the fight, and simultaneously a salute was fired by a detachment of the artillery company stationed upon the beach. The whole effect of this tableau was strikingly pleasant, and served well to introduce the remainder of the exercises. The presence upon the stage of Calder, Farish, Sullivan, and Wood, gray-haired veterans, the link between the history of infant Texas and the era of a State's proud strength, bore in itself an eloquent significance. Occupying the post of honor, in the auditorium, sat Mrs. Martha H. Mitchell and Mrs. Calder, a wife and a sister of brave men who ventured all for the land they loved. With them was Mrs. Buchanan, a granddaughter of Lemuel Stockton Blakey, who was killed at San Jacinto.
"After the unveiling, the Guards stacked arms and withdrew, and Mr. E. S. Wood, advancing' to the stand, presented Mr. Temple Houston, of Brazoria, youngest son of General Sam Houston, who had been invited to deliver the address.
"While the defective acoustic properties of the hall prevented those in the rear from catching all that was said, those nearer to the speaker were permitted the enjoyment of a fervent yet finished tribute, which fully attested that the eloquence of the sire had not been withheld from the son. Mr. Houston spoke as follows:
Mr. Houston's Address.
" 'I would wish my auditors to understand that I attribute the honor of this invitation, not to my personal importance, but to the fact that I happen to be the child of one of the soldiers at San Jacinto. The pleasure that I derive from this occasion is lessened by the absence of Mollie E. Moore Davis. Could I have stood beside her to-night, I would have felt more than honored, for I know that I speak the voice of my State when I say that hers is as sweet a tongue as ever rung the silver chimes of earthly thought.
" 'It is a beautiful custom of free people to rear above the last resting-places of their heroic dead, some token commemorative of the cause in which they fell, and expressive of the grateful reverence felt toward them by posterity. This gratitude dwells in the breasts of freemen only—no real hero's monument was ever built by a race of slaves. The decay of monuments, the forgetfulness ot departed greatness, are sure precursors of a nation's fall. It is with a proud consciousness that I view the sea-girt city, the island queen, first in honoring the memory of our dead heroes, as she is first in population and commercial greatness, wearing with the jewels of her wealth a patriotism that seems all the brighter for adorning the metropolis of the Southwest. While this patriotic reverence dwells in the hearts of our people, the flames on the altars of Texan liberty will never cease to burn. On an occasion like this one realizes the feebleness of language; it speaks so little of what is felt. The story of the strife in which our heroes fell need not be told; history has recorded it. Their valor needs no eulog'y, even could my lowly lips utter such. For Fame's clarion has sounded their praises, and earth is the only limit of their renown. But as in the sheer magnitude of its results, the battle of San Jacinto has but few, if any, parallels, allusion to those results may not seem improper. Never before has the surface of a land changed with such marvellous rapidity as has Texas in the last four or five decades. Only a few years back and the plumed and crested Algonquin roamed over magnificent Texas, sole lord of its vast wastes, save where a few isolated missions sought vainly to weave religion's silken fetters over the savage mind. Yonder billows, blue and restless, dashed then as grandly against your level shores as now, but on their tossing bosoms floated not the freighted wealth of earth's nations, as does now. These same breezes, damp from dalliance with the waves, and laden with perfume stolen from the flowers, swept over our broad plains, but fanned not the cheek of civilized man. Our silver streams, rolling on to mingle their crystal waters with the stormy surges of the great deep, murmured as sweetly and sparkled as brightly as now, but they moistened not the lips of the Anglo-Saxon, and turned not a single mill-wheel; nor cotton nor wheat field smiled in all their valleys. The brown buffalo cropt undisturbed the green grass from our prairies, and the spotted deer rested unfrightened beneath the cool shade of our forest oaks. Texas, lovely Texas, was as fair, as fresh, and as beautiful as was Eden when God, delighted, gazed on the new-born world. It was thus when came the men whose memory we to-day honor. These pioneers were the heralds of a new civilization—one that was born in the medijeval convulsions of England, nurtured under the shadow of Virginia's mountains, and that flashed forth freed and panoplied from the struggles of the American revolution—a civilization whose fundamental principle was civil and religious liberty. Coming to Texas, it rested for a moment under the frown of the Spanish civilization, which was developed on the glittering thrones of Europe, and in the torture chambers of the Inquisition. One idolized, the other abhorred civil and religious liberty. When the Anglo-Saxon settlements had attained a magnitude sufficient to invite governmental interference, the Mexicans adopted toward them an oppressive policy, typical of their institutions. This ignited the spark. You know the result; to-day is celebrative of those who suffered to bring them about. The conflict of the opposite types of civilization for the mastery of this continent was decided on the forest-fringed banks of a Texas stream. Never before in the history of the world were such gigantic results intrusted to so few combatants; but here let me say, sterner warriors or truer patriots than those who guarded the liberty of Texas, on that immortal day, never trod a battle-field. Had that little band quailed before the might of invading despotism, our Pacific shores might yet be unknown; the golden wealth of California would yet sleep in her mountain gorges; the silver treasures of Nevada would now slumber, hidden in their caverned homes; the two oceans would not have shaken hands across the completed lines of railways; the solitude of the Rocky Mountains would yet be a stranger to the shriek of the locomotive, and their awful silence broken by no sound save the voice of nature, when spoken in the deep roar of her swollen cataracts, in the rolling peals of her warring storms, and in the tremendous crash of her falling ice-fields, as they leap from their frozen homes, and desolate the green valleys nestling far beneath. On earth there walk no men like the veterans who freed Texas. Only a few of them linger among us now, and they will be here but a little while longer. Each year that passes thins their ranks. A few more days and the last will be gone. One by one the pale messenger is calling them across that river whose viewless farther shore is wrapt in the mists of doubt, the clouds of death. They hear another reveille whose floating notes we can not catch. Are they gathering for a grander battle? While they are among us we feel toward them with a devotion whose depth speech can never tell. No minions cringe around them, no servile knee is bent to them, but the homage of a free nation is the more than royal offering laid before them. No ducal star glitters on their breasts, no shining coronet encircles their brows, but around their gray locks beams a glory, by the side of which kingly splendors are dim. Cling tenderly to these old men, lor when they are gone nothing like them is left. Strike down your men of eminence, to-day, those who fill your highest seats, and with a wave of your hand you can summon around you hundreds like them—for the gifted sons of Texas are many—but when one of these old warriors drops from the line, earth has none to fill his place. Bitterly do we know that they leave us forever, for of all the manly forms laid low beneath the rod of Death, none have ever risen; of all the bright eyes he has closed, none have ever looked their loveliness on earth again; of all the eloquent lips silenced by his hand, none have ever spoken again; of all the noble hearts whose warm beatings have been stilled by his chilling touch, none ever throbbed on earth again,
" 'The fathers of Texas have left her in the hands of another generation. Is it worthy of the trust? I believe it is. As yet the burden weighs but lightly. But with the swift footsteps of the future there is coming an hour when banded gold, soulless wealth, will oppress the lowlier classes—an event that marks an era in every republic, when leagued capital, not claiming worth or services as its right to sway, but wielding as its scepter only so much yellow dust, seeks to force men to bow to its ignoble supremacy. It is where power passes from the cottage to the palace. History tells not where a republic resisted this fatal influence. In our Republic's life that period is not a great way off. And in that hour Texas will need men—I am speaking now to the young men—to the bright-eyed boys of Texas. In that hour your State will need men, not, oh! not the paid politicians of the present, who seek office for its gold, and not its glory; who trade in honor and traffic in eminence! But she will need statesmen in her councils and warriors on her battle-fields. She will want the mighty in intellect, the grand in soul; more than that—the pure in heart. Do you want an example? Look at the Texas veterans! The mould in which the great are cast is yet unbroken. Let your patriotism be like that of the young Irishman serving in England's armies, who was mortally shot in the breast on a battle-field in Spain. He knew that he would die. While his life-blood ebbed fast away, he thought of the green fields of his country, of his cottage home, of the little fireside group there that he would see never more, and while the hot tears ran down his boyish cheeks, he seized a goblet, and, holding it under his red and gushing wound until it filled with his bright blood, he lilted it on high, watched it glitter a moment in the sunlight, and casting it on the earth, he exclaimed: "O, Erin! my country! would to God that was shed for you!" I believe in my heart that the young men of Texas are worthy of the glorious burden borne by them. Listen not to the serpent hiss of him who would counsel State or national division. He that would wish to dim and divide the splendor of the Lone Star's beams is as little a patriot as one who would seek to shatter the constellation of which Texas is the brightest member. Revere the memory of your forefathers, follow their examples, obey their teachings, and then the deeds commemorated by that monument have not been performed in vain, and the hallowed soil on which it rests will be free forever.'
" A march was next rendered by the band, and then Mr. C. O. Bingham escorted Miss Lula Jockusch to the platform. The histrionic talent of this gifted young lady is well recognized in Galveston, where she has more than once delighted audiences by her rare elocution, but it is not saying one word too much to pronounce her recitation of Miss Mollie E. Moore Davis's poem, published below, a finished work—the true interpretation of a poetic heart fired by the genius of an inspiring occasion. The poem speaks for itself. Mrs. Davis—Mollie E. Moore—is known and loved through all Texas, and her contribution to the event celebrated last evening will beam among the brightest of the gems which she has given to the poetic literature of the South. To both writer and reader the warmest thanks of Galveston will go, for the gracious addition they made to the evening's programme. The poem is reproduced: SAN JACINTO.
I.
"'Come to the Bower,'[3] they sang,
Immortal spirits, crowned with flame,
On yonder heights of radiant bloom.
From freedom's deathless fields they came.
From mountain pass and prison gloom;
Dyed with the blood of Marathon,
Drenched with Salamis' bitter sea.
From where the sun of Leuctra shone,
And from thy rocks, Thermopylae.
" ' Come to the Bower,' they sang.
The old Paladins cased in mail.
Whose standards sparkled to the mom,
And peers and princes from the vale
Where Roland blew his mighty horn;
And Scottish chiefs from Bannockburn,
And English knights from Ascalon,
And sturdy hearts whose memories turn
Toward Bunker Hill and Lexington.
" ' Come to the Bower,' they sang,
' Come join our deathless throng and glow
Like us, while earth and heaven shall stand.
But yesterday the Alamo,
Unbroken, sent its glorious band.
And Goliad, from a reeking field,
Passed up her heroes ! Crowned with flowers,
Behold us ! Come with sword and shield.
And bask in fame's immortal bowers.'
II.
" By San Jacinto's placid stream
The warriors heard and, shining far,
They saw the splendid morning gleam
Of one imperial, changeless star;
They followed where its gleaming led:
To Hope, to Peace, to Victory, '
For, from beneath her martyr dead,
Behold, a nation rose up free!
" Lo ! now around this hallowed stone
They press, the living and the dead,
And banners on the air are blown,
And quick and stirring orders sped;
Houston and Sherman, brave Lamar,
Millard and Hockley close around,
And, lo! with steady, swinging step,
A phantom sentry makes his round.
" ' Goliad! Alamo! 'hark, the cry
Amid the rolling; of the drums!
Hark, the Twin Sisters' hoarse reply
Upon the battle-breeze that comes!
Stand back ! for rank and file press by
A-wearied, in the sunset's glow.
And in their midst they bear on high
The broken sword of Mexico!
"Texas, thou queen of States, whose crown,
Wrought by the hands of heroes, shines
Like some prophetic sun adown
The glowing future's magic lines,
Arise, and, with imperial tread.
Draw near this consecrated place,
And bless thiae own, thy mighty dead,
The saviors of thy glorious race !
"Mollie E. Moore Davis."
- ↑ We choose to follow Gen. Houston's own statetment that he ordered Deaf Smith to cut the bridge down and then burn it up. Although another statement avers "that the parties burning the bridge were from Karnes' Cavalry Company." They were Deaf Smith, D. W. Rives, John Coker, G. P. Alsbury, E. R. Rainwater, John Garner, and Moses Lapham.
- ↑ Hyacinth; Lat. hyacinthus; Span. huakinthus; water flower.
- ↑ "Come to the Bower" is the air to the strains of which the Texan army
marched into the battle of San Jacinto, and the cries which animated them were:
" Remember Goliad ' " " Remember the Alamo! "