Washington telegraph., 1849-05-09
DEATH OF HENRY CLAY.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

when the man of Palo Alto, ReSaca de la
Palma, and Monterey, saw the clouds
come down on the last charge of Buent
| Vista, that scene, worthy of the days ff
Washington, closed the day in glory
| Do YOU behold that deep ravine, deep
sunken between these precipitous banks!
Here no sunlight comes, for these walls
of rock wrap the pass in eternal twilight.
I Withered trees grow between the masses
of granite, and scattered stones make the
bed of the ravine uncertain and difficult
for the tread.
Hark. That cry, that rush like a noun
tain torrent bursting its barriers, and
quick as the lightning flashes from dark
ness, the dismal ravine is bathed in red
battle light. From its norther extremi-
my in itself come yelling along the pass
treading one another down as they fly,
their banners, spears, horses and men,
| tossed together in ineXtricable confusion.
BY thousands they rush into the
shadows of the pass, their dark faces red
dened by the sheeted blaze of musquetry.
| The caverns of the ravine send back the
roar of the panic. and the grey rocks are
washed by their blood
But the little band who pursues this
army! Who are they! You may see in
their firm heroic ranks, the volunteer cos
tune of Illinois and Kentucky. At their
head, urging his men with shouts rides
the gallant M 'Kee, by his side young
Henry Clay, that broad forehead, which
reminds you of his father, bathed in
the glare as his sword quivers on high
ere it falls to kill. There too, wild fig
ure, red with his own blood and the blood
of Mexican foes, his uniform rent in tat
ters, his arms bare to the shoulder. strik-
ing terrible blows with his good sword
Hardin, of Illinois, comes gallantly for
ward
The small, but iron band, hurl the
Mexicans from the heights into the ravine,
and now follow up the chase, far down
into the eternal twilight of that noun
tain pass.
Look. AS their musquetry streams its
steady blaze, you would think that one
ceaseless sheet of lightning bathed these
rocks in flame.
/ Over the MeXicans, man and horse,
hurled back in mad disorder, the Ameri-
cans dash on their way, never needing
the overwhelming numbers of their foes,
never needing the palpitating forms be-
meath their feet, with bayonet, and rifle,
and sword, they press steadily on, their
well-known banner streaming evermore
overhead.
The howl of the dying war-horse-
hark! Does it not chill your blood to
hear it? The bubbling cayof the wound
ell man, with the horye's hoof upon his
mouth, trampling his face into hideous
wreck-does it not sicken your soul to
hear it?
A hundred yards or more, into the pass
the Americans have penetrated, when
suddenly a young Mexican, rushing back
upon their ranks, seizes the fallen flag OF
Anahuac, and dashes to his death!
TO see him, young and beardless, very
boy, rush with his country's flag with
his barred breast, upon that line of sharp
steel-it was a sight to stir towards into
manhood and it shot into Mexican hearts
like an electric fame.
Even in their panic-stricken disorder
they turned; by hundreds they grasped
their arms. and rolled in one long wave
of lance and bayonet, upon the foe. Woe
to the brave men of Illinois and Ken
tucky now! Locked in that deadly pass
wall of infuriated Mexicans between
them and that wall Of rocks-above their
heads, through every aperture among the
cliffs, the blaze of musquets pouring a
shower of bullets in their faces-wherev-
er they turned, the long and deadly lance
poised at their throats-it was moment
to think once of Home and die
Those who survived that fearful mo-
ment, tell with shuddering triumph of the
deeds Of the three heroes-M Kee, Har-
din and Clay.
! MKee, you see him yonder, with his
shattered sword dripping blood, he
endeavors to ward off the aim of those
deadly lances, and fights on his knees
when he can stand no longer, and then
the combatants close over him and you
see him no more.
Hardin, rose from heap of slaughtered
foes, his face streaming from its hideous
lance wounds, and waved Mexican
flag, in triumph, as his life blood gushed
in a torrent over his muscular FORM
That instant, the full light of battle was
upon his mangled face. Then, finging
the captured flag to brother soldier, he
shouted-"Give it to her as memorial
of Buena Vista. My wife, 1t was his
last word. Upon his barred breast, the
fury of ten lances rushed, and the horse's
hoofs trampled him into the heap of dead
But most sad and yet more glorious q
all, was to see the death of the Second
HENRY CLAY. You should have seen
him, with his back against yonder rock,
his sword grasped firmly, as the conscious
ness that he bore name that must not