The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1861-03-13

circle of his men fighting around him-he
dashed into the Mexicans until his sword
was wet, his arm was weary with blood
At last, with his thigh splintered by a ball,
he gathered his proud form to its full hight
and fell. His face ashy with intense agony,
he bade his comrades to leave him there to
die. That ravine should be the bed Of his
glory. ...-.. .... ...
But gathering around him, guard of
breast and steel-while two of their number
bore him tenderly along--these men of Ken
.ucky fought round their fallen hero and as
retreating, step by step, they launched their
swords and bayonets into the faces of the
foe, they said with every blow" Henry
Clay"
1t was wonderful to see how that name
nerved their arms, and called a smile to the
face of the dying hero How it would have
made the heart of the old man of Ashland
throb to have heard his name yelled as bat
tle-cry down the shadows of that lonely
pass.
Along the ravine, and up this narrow path!
The hero bleeds as they bear him on, and
tracks the way with his blood Faster and
thicker the Mexicans swarm they see the
circle around the fallen man, even his pale
face, uplif:ed as a smile crosses its fading
lneaments, and like pack of wolves on
the track of forlorn traveller at dead of
night, they come bowling up the rocks, and
charge the devoted band with one dense mass
Of bayonets.
Up and on! The light shines yonder, on
the topmost rock, and there we will fight
our way and die in the old mans sight!
1t was murderous way, the path up the
steep bank Of the rayine Uttered with
dead slippery with b'ood, it grew blacker
every moment with Mexcans, and the de-
tenders Of the wounded hero, fell one by
one, into the chasm yawning all around
At last they reach the light, the swords
and bayonets glitter in the sight Of the con-
tending armies, and the bloody contest roars
towards the topmost rock.
Then it was that gathering up his dying
form armed with supernatural vigor--
young Clay started from the arms of his
supporters, and stood with outs tretched
arms in the light of the setting SUM- 1t was
a glorious sight which he saw there amid
the rolling battle clouds. Santa Annals for
midable army, hurled back into ravine and
gorge, by Taylor's little band But a more
glorious thing it was to see that dying man,
standing for the last time. in the light of
that sun, which shall never rise for him once
more!
leave mel" he shrieks, as he falls back
on the sod-"T must die, and will die here
Peril your lives no longer for me. Go! there
is work for you yonder''
TIE Mexicans crowdin, on, hungry for
blood-even as he spoke their bayonets,
glistening by hundreds, were leveled at the
throats Of the devoted band. BY the mere
force Of their overwhelming numbers, they
crushed them back from the side of the dy-
ing Clay.
Only one fingered a brave man, who had
known the chivalric soldier and loved him
long; he stood there, and covered as he was
with blood, heard those last words:
"Tell my father how died, and give him
these pistols"
Lifting his ashy face into light, he turned
his eyes upon his comrades placed
the pistols in his hand--and fell back to his
death.
That conrade, with the pistols in his
grasp, fought his way alone to the topmost
rock Of the path, and only once looked back.
He saw the quivering form conopied by bay
nets-he saw those outstretched hands grap-
ping with points of stecl-he saw pale
face lifted once in the light and then dark
ness rushed upon the life Of young Henry
| Claw,