The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1878-09-04
DEATH OF YOUNG HEtRY CLAY.
By GEORGE HlPPAnD.

on the charge of Btena Vista, that q
splendid scene worthy Of the days of
Washington, closed the, day in glory.
Do you behold that dark ravine, deep
sunken between those precipitous banksg
Here no sunlight CONFESS, for the walls of
rock wrap up the pass in, eternal twilight.
Wlthered trees grew between masses of
granite, and stone make the bed of the
ravine uncertain, and difficult for the
tread.
!. Hark! That cry, that rushes like a
mountain torrent bursting its barriers,
and quick as the lightning flashes from
darkness, the dismal rayine is bathed in
battle light. From its nothern extremity
9 confused band of Mexioans, an array in
itself, came yelling along the pass, tread
ing one another down as they fly; their
banners, spears; horses ,and men tossed
together in inextricable confusion.
By thousands they rushed into the
shadow of the pass, their dark faces red
dened with the heated blaze of musketry.
The caverns of the ravine send back the
roar of the panic, and the gray rocks are
washed with their blood:
But the little band who pursues this
army who are they? You may see in
their firm, heroic ranks the volunteer
costume of Illinois and"Kentucky. At
their head, urging his men with shouts,
rides the gallant Mckee; by his side
young Henry Clay, that broad forehead
which reminds you of his father, bathed
in the glare, as his sword rquivers on high
ere it falls to kill. There, too, wild
figure, red with his own blood and the
blood of his Mexican foes, his uniform
rent in tatters, his shoulders striking ter
rible blows with his good sword Hardin,
of Illinois-came gallantly forward.
The small but iron band hurl The Mex
leans from the height in the ravine, and
follow up the chase far, down into the
eternal twilight of that mountain pass.
Look! As their musketuy streams its
steady blaze, you would think that
ceaseless sheet of lightning bathed these
rocks in flames! ..f.
Over the Mexicans, men and hcrses
hurried back in mad disorder, the Amer
leans dash on their way, never needing
the overwhelming numbers. of their foes,
never needing the palpitating forms be-
meath their feet, with bayonet and sword
they press steadily on, their well known
banner ever streaming overhead.
The howl of the dying war-horse-
har6! Does it not chill your blood to
hear it, The horrible cry of the wound
ed man, with the horses hoof upon his
mouth, tramping his, face to hideous
wreck-doe not sicken your soul to hear
it?
A hundred yards or more into the pass
the Americans had penetrated, when sud-
denly a young Mexican, rushing back,
opens their ranks. raises the fallen flag of
Alahanac and dashes to,death.
To see him, young and beardless, very
boy, rush with his country's flag with
barred breast upon that line of sharp steel
it was sight to stir towards into man
hood. and it shot into Mexican hearts like
an electric flame.
Even in their panic-stricken disorder
they rallied by hundreds, they grasped
arms and rolled into one long wave of
lances and bayonets upon. the foe. Woe
to the brave men of Illinois and Kentucky!
Locked in that deadly pass, a wall of in
furiated Mexicsns between them and that
wall of rocks, above their heads, through
every aperture among the cliffs, the blaze
Ut muskets pouring shower of bullets
in their ACKNOWLEDGMENT they turned the
long and deadly lance pointed at their
throats-it asa moment to think once
of home die.
Those who survived that fearful mo-
ment tell with shuddenng triumph the
deeds of three heroes Hardin.
and Clay.
Mckee, you see yonder with his shat
tered sword dripping with blood, he en-
deavors to ward off those deadly lances,
and fights on his knees when he can
stand no longer, and then the combat
ants close over HIM, and you see him no
more.
Hardin arose froma heap of slaughter
ed dead. his face streaming from its hid
eous lance wounds, and waved Mexican
flag in triumph, as his, life-blood rushes
IN torrent over his muscular form.
Then flinging his. captured flag to
brother soldier, "Give it to her as a me-
mortal of Buena Vista! My wife!" 1t was
his last words. Upon his barred breast
the fury Of ten lances, and the horses
hoofs tramped him into the heap Of the
dead.
But most sad, and yet most glorious of
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 consciousness that
he bore name that must not die inglori-
ously, seemed to fill his every vein, and
dart a deadly fire from his eyes.
At that time he looked like an old
man.
For his brow, high and retreating, with
the bloodclotted hair, waving back from.
the outline, was swollen in every vein as
though his soul shone from it ere it fed
forever. Lips set, brows knit, hands firm
"a circle of men fighting round him, he
dashed into the MeXicans until his sword
was wet, aad his arms weary with blood.
At last, with his thigh splintered by
ball, he gathered his proud form to its
full height and fell. His face ashy with
intense agony, he babe his comrades to
leave him there to die. That ravine
should be the bed of his glory. =.
But gathered around him guard of
breasts of steel, while two of his com
rades bore him along. These men of
Kentucky fought round their fallen hero,
and, as retreating step by step they
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