Year: 1878

Si"u hVVACN ucdu, his ldCe eJFeaul-
ing from its hideous lance wounds,
and waved a Mexican flag in tri-
nmph, as his lifeblood rushes in a
torrent over his muscular form.
Then hinging his captured flag to a
brother soldier, "Give it to her as a
memorial of Buena Vista! Nv
wifep 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 nest glo-
rious 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 con.
sciousness that he bore name that
must not die ingloriously, seemed
to fill every vein, and dart a deadly
fire from his eyes,,


AT that time he lookedSlike the
/
old man.


For his brow, high and retreat
ing, 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 forev-
er. lips set, brows knit, hands
firm "a circle of men fighting
round him, he dashed into the
Mexicans until his sword was wet
and his arms weary with blood.


At last, with his thigh splintered
by ball, he gathered his proud
form to its full hight and fell. His
face ashy with intense agony, he
bade his comrades leave him there
to die. That ravine should be the
bed of his glory.


But gathered around him a guard
of breasts of steel, while two of his
comrades bore him along. These
men Of Kentucky fought round
their fallen hero, and, as retreating
step by step, they launched their
swords and bayonets into the faces
Of their enemies, said with every
blow, Henry Clayw


1t was wonderful to see how that
name nerved their arms, and called
a smile to the face Of the dying he
ro. How it would have made the
old man of Ashland throb to have
heard his name yelled as battle
cry down the shadows of that lone
ly pass.


Along the ravine and up the mar
row pa8Sl The hero bleeds 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 scenting the forlorn
traveller at dead of night, they
came bowling up the rock and
charged the devoted band with one
dense mass of bayonets.


Up and on! The light shines
yonder on the tempest rock of the
ravine. 1t is the light of setting
sun. Old Taylor'S eyes are on that
rock, and there we will fight our
way and die in the old mans sight


1t was a murderous way, that
path up the steep bank of the ra-
vine. Uttered with dead, slippery
with blood, it grew blacker every
moment with Mexicans, and the de-
Tenders of the wounded hero fell
one by one into the chasm yawning
around.


At last they reached the light,
the swords and bayonets glitter in
the sight of the eontending armies
and the bloody contest roarS toward
the topmost rock.


Then it was, that gathering up
his dying form, armed with super
natural vigor, young Henry Clay
started from the arms of his sup
porters and stood with outstretched
hands in the light of the setting
sun. 1t was glorious sight which
he saw there amid the battle-clouds
Santa Anna's formidable army
hurled back into the ravine and
gorge by Taylor's little band. Buta a
more glorious thing it was to see
that dying man standing there for
the last time in the light Of that sun
which shall never rise for hiIR
again.


leave me-" he shrieked OS he
fell back on the sod, ~ mHst die,
and | will die here! Peril your
lives no longer for mel Go! There
is work for you yonder!"


The Mexicans crowded on, hun.
cry for blood. Even as he spoke
their bayonets, glistenng by hun
dreds, were levelled at the throats
Of the devoted band. By the great
force of their overwhelming num-
bers they crushed them back from
the dying Clay.


Only one remained; q brave man,
who had known the chiyalric SOL
der and loved him long, he stood
there, and covered as he was with
blood, heard these last words:


"Tell my father how l died, and
give him these pistols"


Lifting his ashy face into the
Isc.b ho al ~. o..s. - 1 y.