Year: 1861


following is from the pen of George lip
pafd. 1t recites with burning words and
thrilling pathos the circumstances of the
death of young Henry Clay at the battle
of Buena Vista Young Henry Clay was
che son of the great statesman, he voiun
teered in war in defence Of the honor,
the flag, and rights of his country, and was
inhumanIy butchered by the foreign foe:


But the most sad and yet most glorious
Of all deaths was Chat of the second Hen
ry Clay You should have seen him, with
his back against yonder rock, his sword
grasped firmly, as the consciousness that
he bore name which must not die inglo.
riously seemed to gil his every vein and dart
a deadly fire from his eyes.


At this moment be looked like the old
man. For his brow, high aud retreating
with his blood clotted hair waving back
from its outline, was swollen in every vein
as though his soul shone from it ere it fed
forever. Lips set, brow knit, hand firm, a
circle Of his friends fghtins around him,
he dashed into the Mexicans, until his
sword was wet and his arm weary with
blood.


At last, with his thigh splihtered with
ball, he gathered his proud form to full
height and fell. His face ashy with in
tense agony, he bade his companions to
leave him there to die That ravine should
be the bed of his glory


But gathering around him guard of
breasts and steel--whilc two of them bore
him tenderly along-these men of Ken.
tucky fought around 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-"Re-
member Henry Clay"


1t was wonderful to see how that name
nerved 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 along as a battle-cry down the shad-
ows of that lonely pass.


Along the ravine and up the narrow pass
the hero bleeds as they bear him on, and
tracks the way with his blood. Faster
and thicker the Mexicans they see the
circle around the dying hero; even his pale
face uplifted as a smile crosses his fading
lineaments, and, like pack Of wolves
scenting the frozen traveller at the dead Of
night, they came bowling up the rocks, and
charge that devoted band with one dense
mass of bayonets.


Up and on! The light shines yonder on
the topmost rock of the ravinc. Old Tay-
lor's eye is on the rock, and there we will
fight our way, or die in the old mans
sight!


1t was murderous way, that path up
the steep banks of the ravinel Uttered with
dead, slippery with blood, it grew darker
every moment with Mexicans, and the de-
tenders of the wounded hero fell one by
one into the chasm yawing all around.


At last they reach the light, the swords
and bayonets of the contending armies
glittered in the sight, and the bloody con-
test roars toward the topmost peak


Then it was. that gathering UP his dy-
ing forni-armed with supernatural vigor
CLAY started from the arms Of his sup
porters, and stood in the light of the sun
1t was glorious sight which he saw there
amid the rolling battle-cloud; Santa Anna's
formable army hurled back into the gorge
by Taylor's little band. But more glo
rious thing it was to that dying man, stand
ing, for the last time, in the light of the
sun, which never again shall guide his feet
to victory and to death.


"Leave me-" he shrieked, as he fell back
on the sod; Il must die and will die here
Peril your lives nc longer for mel Gro! there
is work for you yeuder!"


The Mexicans crowded on, hungry fol
blood. Even as he spoke, their bayonet
glittering by the hundreds, were leyeled a
the throats OF the little band. By the
mere force Of their overwhelming number
they crushed them from the side of thu
gallant Clay.


Only one fingered, a brave who haC
known chivalrous soldier, and had lOvec
him long; he stood, and covered as he wa
with blood, heard his last words:
"Give these pistols to my father--tei
him how die!'


Lifting his ashy face to the light, h
turned his eyes upon his cemrade, place.
the pistols in his hands, and fell back il
death.


That comrade, with the pistols in his grasl
fought his way along the topmost rock o
the path and only once looked back. II
saw a Quivering form canopied by bayonets
he saw those outstretched hands grapplini
: with the points of steel; he saw pale fac
, lifted once to the light, and the darknes
j rushed upon the soul of Henry Clay