Year: 1860




che Man ofPalo Alto, Resaca de la Palms
and Monterey, saw the clouds come dowr
on the last charge of Buena Vista, that o
scene worthy Of the days Of Washington,
closed the day in glory.


Do you behold that dark ravine, deer
and sunken between these preciptous
banks2 Hero no sunlight comes for these
walls of rock wrap the pass in eternal
twilight. Withered trees grow between
the masses of granite, and scattered stone
makes the bed Of the rayine uncertain and
difficult for the tread.


Hark That cry, that rush ike 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 northern extremi-
ty, confused band of Mexicans, an army
in itself fcome yelling along the pass tread
ing one another down as they fly, their
banners, spears, horses and men tossed to-
gether in inextricable confusion.


By thousands they rush into the sha-
dows of the pass, their dark faces rodden-
ed by the sheeted blaze OF musketry. The
caverns of the rsvine send back the roar
of the panic, and the grey rock are washed
by their blood.


But the little band who Pursues this
army. Who are they2 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 Mckee, 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 figure red
with his own blood of Mexican foes, his
uniform rent in tatters, his arms barred to
the shoulders, striking terrible blows with
his good sword-Hardin of Illinois comes
CALAMITY forward.


The small, but iron hand, hurl the
Mexieans from the heights into the ravine
and follow up the chase, far down into the
eternal twilight of that mountain pass.


Look AS their musketry streams its
steady blaze, you would think that one
ceaseless sheet of lightning bathed these
rocks in fame


Over the Mexicans, man and horse,
hurled back in mad disorder, the Ameri-
cans dash on their way, never needing the
palpitoting forms beneath 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 cry of the wounded man,
with the horses hoof upon his mouth,
trampling his face into hideous wreck
does it not sicken your soul to hear it?


A hundred yards or mere, into the pass
the Americans have penetrated, when sud-
denly young Mexican, rushing back up
on their ranks, seized 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
lit was a sight to stir towards into man
hood, and it shot into the 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 Kentucky |
now! Locked in that deadly pass, a wall
of infuriated Meqicaus between them and
that wall of rocks--above their heads thro'
every aperture among the cliffs, the blaze
of muskets, pouring shower of bulletsin
their face-wherever 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 m moment
tell with shuddering triumph of the deeds
of the three heroes-McKee, Hardin and
Clay.


Mckee, you see him yonder, with his
sword dripping blood, he endea-
vors to ward off the aims of 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, rose from heap of slaughtered
foes, his face streaming from its hideous
lance wounds, and waved Mexican flag
in triumph, as his life blood gushes in a
torrent over his muscular form. That
instant the full light of battle was upon
his mangled face--Then, finging the cap
tured flag to brother soldier, he shouted
-"Give it to her as a memorial Of Buena
Vista My wifo !" 1t was bis last words
Upon his barred breast, the fury of ten
lances rushed, and the horses hoofs tramp
led him into the heap of 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 graspcd firmly as the consciousness
that he bore a name that must not die ia
gloriously, seemed to gil bis every vein,
and dart deadly fire from his eyes


At that moment he looked like the old
man.


For his brow, high and retreating, with
the blood-clotted hair waving back from
its outline, was swollen in every vein, as
though his soul shone from it, ere she fed
forever. Lips set, brows knit, hands firm
"a circle of his men fighting around him