Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1878-09-20

Clay.
Mckee, you see yondor with his chat
tered sword dripping with blood, be en-
deavors to ward off these 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 arose from heap of slaugh-
tered dead, his face streaming from its
hideous lance wounds, and waved a
Mexican flag in triumph, las his life blood
rushed in torrent over his muscular
form. Then finging his captured flag
to brother soldier, "Give it to her as
memorial of Buena Vista My wife p
They were his. last words. Upon his
barred breast the fury of ten lances, and
the hosses' hoofs trampled 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 very vein, and
dart deadly fire from his eyes.
At that time he looked like the old
man. His brow, high and retreating,
with the blood-clotted hair waving back
from the outline was swollen in every
vein as though his soul shone from it ere
it fled forever. Lips set, brows knit, hands
frm--a circle of men fighting around
him, he dashed into the Mexicans until
his sword was wet, and his arms weary
with blood.
AT last, with his thigh splntered by
a 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. The 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. launched
their swords and bayonets into the faces
of their enemies, said with every blow,
"Henry Clay!"
1t was wonderful to see how that name
nervcd their arms, and called 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 battle-cry down the
shadows of that lonely pass.
Along the ravine and up tho narrow
pass J The hero blecds as they bear him
on, and tracks the way with his blood.
Faster and thicker swarm the Mexicans
They see the circle around the fallen
man, even his face uplifted as a smile
crosses its fading lineaments, and like a
pack of wolves seeming the forlorn tray-
eler at dead of night, they came bowling
up the rock and charged the devoted
band with one dense mass of bayoncts
Up and on The light shines yondcr
on the tempest rock Of the ravine. Old
Taylor's eyes are on that rock, and there
We will fight our way and die in the old
mans sight.
1t was murderous way. that path up
the steep bank of the ravine. Uttered
with dead, slippery with blood. It grew
blacker every moment with Mexicans,
and the defenders Of the wounded hero
fell one by one, into the yawning:: chasm.
At last they reached the light, the
swords and bayonets glitter in the sight
of the contending armies, and the bloody
contest roars toward 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 out
stretched hands in the light of the set
ting sun. 1t was glorious sight which
we saw there amid the battle clouds
Santa Annals formidable army hurled
back into the ravino and gorge by Tay-
lor's little band. But more glorious
thing it was TO see that dying man stand
ing there for the last time in the light
Of that sun which shall never rise for
him again.
'Lcave me !" he shrieked, as he fell
back on the sod. II must die, and |
will die here Peril your lives no longer
for me Go, there's work for you yondcr
The Mcxicans crowded on, hungry for
blood. Even as be spoke, their bayo-
nets, glistening by hundreds, were level
ed at the throats Of the devoted band -
BY the mere force Of their overwhclm-
ing numbers they crushed them back
from the dying Clay.
Only one fingered, brave man who
had known the chivalric soldier and
loved him long; he stood there, and
covered as he was with blood heard these
last words.
"Tcll my father how died and give
him these pistols"
Lifting his ashy face into the light bo
turned his eyes upon bis comrades face,
placed the pistols in his hands and fell
back TO his death.
That comrade. with the pistol ia bis
grasp. fought his way alone to the top
most rock Of tho path. Hc saw a shiy-
criDg form canopied by bayonets. lie
saw those outstretchcd arms graphing
with points Of steel. lie saw a face
lifted up in the light. and then darkness
rushed on the lifs Of young Henry Clay