Part 3

"Then we must die. Our business is not to make a fruitless effort to save our lives, but to choose the manner of our death. But three modes are presented to us. Let us choose that by which we may best serve our country. Shall we surrender, and be deliberately shot without taking the life of a single enemy? Shall we try to cut our way out through the Mexican ranks, and be butchered before we can kill twenty of our adversaries? I am opposed to either method.... Let us resolve to withstand our enemies to the last, and at each advance to kill as many of them as possible. And when at last they shall storm our fortress, let us kill them as they come! Kill them as they scale our walls! Kill them as they leap within! Kill them as they raise their weapons, and as they use them! Kill them as they kill our companions! and continue to kill them as long as one of us shall remain alive!... But leave every man to his own choice. Should any man prefer to surrender ... or attempt to escape ... he is at liberty to do so. My own choice is to stay in the fort and die for my country, fighting as long as breath shall remain in my body. This will I do even if you leave me alone. Do as you think best; but no man can die with me without affording me comfort in the hour of death."

The little pamphlet called "The Origin and Fall of the Alamo," which I bought within the walls, is my authority for what has preceded. I quote from it also the following simple, but telling story of what followed the speech of Colonel Travis:

"Col. Travis then drew his sword, and with the point traced a line upon the ground extending from the right to the left of the file. Then resuming his position in front of the centre, he said: 'I now want every man who is determined to stay here and die with me to come across that line. Who will be the first? March!' The first respondent was Tapley Holland, who leaped the line at a bound, exclaiming, 'I am ready to die for my country!' His example was instantly followed by every man in the file, with exception of Rose ----. Every sick man that could walk arose from his bunk, and tottered across the line. Col. Bowie, who could not leave his bed, said: 'Boys, I am not able to come to you, but I wish some of you would be so kind as to move my cot over there.' Four men instantly ran to the cot, and each lifting a corner carried it over. Then every sick man that could not walk made the same request, and had his bunk moved in the same way.

"Rose was deeply affected, but differently from his companions. He stood till every man but himself had crossed the line. He sank upon the ground, covered his face, and yielded to his own reflections. A bright idea came to his relief; he spoke the Mexican dialect very fluently, and could he once get out of the fort, he might easily pass for a Mexican and effect his escape. He directed a searching glance at the cot of Col. Bowie. Col. David Crockett was leaning over the cot, conversing with its occupant in an undertone. After a few seconds Bowie looked at Rose and said: 'You seem not to be willing to die with us, Rose.' 'No,' said Rose, 'I am not prepared to die, and shall not do so if I can avoid it.' Then Crockett also looked at him, and said: 'You may as well conclude to die with us, old man, for escape is impossible.' Rose made no reply, but looked at the top of the wall. 'I have often done worse than climb that wall,' thought he. Suiting the action to the thought, he sprang up, seized his wallet of unwashed clothes, and ascended the wall. Standing on its top, he looked down within to take a last view of his dying friends. They were all now in motion, but what they were doing he heeded not; overpowered by his feelings, he looked away, and saw them no more.... He threw down his wallet, and leaped after it."

I will now let the Mexicans tell how they made the attack and also the result to them, giving extracts from official documents and from the recital of Sergeant Becerra, a Mexican:

"A terrible fire belched from the interior. Men fell from the scaling ladders by the score, many pierced through the head by balls, others felled by clubbed guns. The dead and wounded covered the ground. After half an hour of fierce conflict, after the sacrifice of many lives, the column of Gen. Castrillon succeeded in making a lodgment in the upper part of the Alamo to the northeast. It was a sort of outwork. This seeming advantage was a mere prelude to the desperate struggle which ensued. The doors of the Alamo building were barricaded by bags of sand as high as the neck of a man; the windows also. On top of the roofs of the different apartments were rows of sand bags to cover the besieged.

"Our troops [the Mexicans], inspired by success, continued the attack with energy and boldness. The Texians fought like devils. It was at short range--muzzle to muzzle, hand to hand, musket and rifle, bayonet and bowie-knife--all were mingled in confusion. Here a squad of Mexicans, here a Texian or two. The crash of firearms, the shouts of defiance, the cries of the dying and wounded made a din almost infernal. The Texians defended desperately every inch of the fort; overpowered by numbers they would be forced to abandon a room. They would rally in the next, and defend it until further resistance became impossible.

"Gen. Tolza's command forced an entrance at the door of the church building. He met the same determined resistance without and within. He won by force of numbers and great sacrifice of life.

"There was a long room on the ground floor. It was darkened. Here the fight was bloody. It proved to be the hospital. A detachment of which I had command had captured a piece of artillery. It was placed near the door of the hospital, doubly charged with grape and canister, and fired twice. We entered and found the corpses of fifteen Texians. On the outside we afterwards found forty-two dead Mexicans.

"On the top of the church building I saw eleven Texians. They had some small pieces of artillery and were firing on the cavalry and on those engaged in making the escalade. Their ammunition was exhausted, and they were loading with pieces of iron and nails.

"The Alamo was entered at daylight; the fight did not cease till nine o'clock....

"Gen. Santa Anna directed Col. Mora to send out his cavalry to bring in wood. This was done. The bodies of the heroic Texians were burned. Their remains became offensive. They were afterward collected and buried by Col. Juan N. Seguin."

Sergeant Becerra said:

"There was an order to gather our own dead and wounded. It was a fearful sight. Our lifeless soldiers covered the ground surrounding the Alamo. They were heaped inside the fortress. Blood and brains covered the earth and the floors, and had spattered the walls. The ghastly faces of our comrades met our gaze, and we removed them with despondent hearts. Our loss in front of the Alamo was represented at two thousand killed, and more than three hundred wounded. The killed were generally struck on the head. The wounds were in the neck or shoulder, seldom below that. The firing of the besieged was fearfully precise. When a Texas rifle was levelled on a Mexican, he was considered as good as dead. All this indicated the dauntless bravery and the cool self-possession of the men who were engaged in a hopeless conflict with an enemy numbering more than twenty to one. They inflicted on us a loss ten times greater than they sustained. The victory of the Alamo was dearly bought. Indeed, the price in the end was well-nigh the ruin of Mexico."

The tragic heroism displayed in the Alamo caused intense excitement in the United States, and, indeed, throughout the civilized world. Lovers of liberty knew that the men were inspired both by their love of freedom and the consciousness of the horrible fate which would await them if they fell alive into the hands of Santa Anna and his men. The pamphlet tells us that:

"An Englishman named Nagle had the honor of originating the 'Monument Erected to the Heroes of the Alamo.' It stood at the entrance of the Capitol at Austin. This building was burned in 1880, and the monument suffered injury. On the top of each front were the names of Travis, Bowie, Crockett, and Bonham. The inscription on the north front was: 'To The God Of The Fearless And The Free Is Dedicated This Altar Of The ALAMO.' On the west front: 'Blood of Heroes Hath Stained Me. Let The Stones Of The Alamo Speak, That Their IMMOLATION Be Not FORGOTTEN.' On the south front: 'Be They Enrolled With LEONIDAS In The Host Of The Mighty Dead.' On the east front: 'Thermopylae Had Her Messenger Of DEFEAT, But The ALAMO Had None.'"

After seeing the Alamo and penetrating its historic recesses, I was in no mood for much further sightseeing. Some of our party drove to a most interesting Mission on the outskirts of the town, others contented themselves with a distant view of it from the street cars. The weather was too hot for much further exertion, and it was with a sense of restful enjoyment that we reclined in our car "Lucania" as we speeded westward in the evening hour. We got a charming view of San Antonio, a mile or so out from the town, glowing in the radiance of the setting sun, and looking as neat, thriving, and attractive as we found it in our experience. It seemed to deserve the added splendor of the sunset glow; and as a light of historic glory, and of a fame which can never set, we here insert a few striking lines called the "Hymn of the Alamo."

HYMN OF THE ALAMO

BY CAPTAIN REUBEN M. POTTER, U.S.A.

Rise! man the wall--our clarion's blast Now sounds the final reveille; This dawning morn must be the last Our fated band shall ever see. To life, but not to hope, farewell; Your trumpet's clang, and cannon's peal, And storming shout, and clash of steel Is ours, but not our country's knell. Welcome the Spartan's death-- 'Tis no despairing strife-- We fall--we die--but our expiring breath Is Freedom's breath of life.

"Here on this new Thermopylae Our monument shall tower on high, And 'Alamo' hereafter be On bloodier fields the battle cry." Thus Travis from the rampart cried. And when his warriors saw the foe Like whelming billows move below, At once each dauntless heart replied: "Welcome the Spartan's death-- 'Tis no despairing strife-- We fall--we die--but our expiring breath Is Freedom's breath of life!"

They come--like autumn leaves they fall, Yet hordes on hordes they onward rush; With gory tramp they mount the wall, Till numbers the defenders crush. The last was felled--the fight to gain-- Well may the ruffians quake to tell How Travis and his hundred fell Amid a thousand foemen slain. They died the Spartan's death, But not in hopeless strife; Like brothers died--and their expiring breath Was freedom's breath of life.

Among the many pleasant incidents of our stay in San Antonio was the meeting with some of the students of the West Texas Military Academy, of which my young friend the Rev. A. L. Burleson is the rector. They were splendid young fellows. It was a regret that I could not visit the school and pay my respects to one who bears the honored name of Burleson.

To look at those young students was a delight; and to know that the seed sown at Racine, under De Koven, where the Rev. Mr. Burleson graduated, was here, in this great Southwest, bearing such good fruitage, was a delightful memory to bring away from San Antonio.

VII

In Desolate Places.--Beauty Everywhere.--Railway Engineering.--Analogy in the Conduct of Life.--El Paso.--The Sand Storm.--Human Grasshoppers. --The Placid Night.--Rev. Dr. Higgins.--Juarez.--Rev. M. Cabell Martin. --Strangeness of our Mexican Glimpse.--The Post-Office.--The Old Church. --The Padre's Perquisites.--The Prison.--El Paso Again.--Cavalry Going East for the War.

After leaving San Antonio, the night soon shut out the landscape from our view, and the next morning revealed to us a rather forlorn region. This is how it impressed Mrs. Morgan. I quote from her diary: "We awoke to find ourselves in a desolate portion of country, bare prairie, stretching away towards craggy hills whose irregular outline is very picturesque, and the soft blue and purple shadowing on them is beautiful. Droves of cattle wandered about, feeding on the sparse dried grass, which is the only forage the poor beasts seem to have."

Even the most unpromising places have some compensation in them, for the beauty of the distant mountains was worth seeing, and the natural cured grass of the prairies has wonderful sustaining power. In fact, it is a hay crop wisely scattered everywhere, needing neither storehouse nor barn, always on hand--or at mouth, one might say--for the strolling droves. We passed during our morning's run some splendid pieces of railroad engineering. We were constantly rising above the sea level, every mile bringing us up to the mountain heights. This rapid ascent was managed by a most circuitous route among the foothills, winding in and out, and doubling again and again upon our track. A railway map gives one an idea of almost straight lines from place to place. How different is the reality! It seemed to me a symbol of theory and practice in real life. A proposition in business or in morals seems as simple and inevitable as that two and two make four; but many are the twists and turns that must be taken in all departments of life before the end in view can be attained.

By these necessary zigzags and retracing curves we made our advance, higher and higher. The sparse vegetation revealed our increasing altitude, the trees became few and stunted, and the wild plants more limited in variety. We descend again as we pass on, until toward evening we reached El Paso. Here we landed in the midst of a fearful sand storm. We were met by a dear old friend of former days, the Rev. Dr. Higgins, whose first impulse was to tell us that it was not always thus in El Paso. We should hope not; for it was fearful. The wind blew at a dreadful rate, sweeping along with it dense clouds of sharp sand which gave one a sense of being lashed with whipcords. In the midst of this blinding dust and sand, obscuring the light, people moved about like huge grasshoppers. A contrivance of transparent celluloid, fitted like glasses to the eyes, extending from above the eyebrows, down well on the cheeks, gave people this absurd insect-like appearance. It was gruesome and comical at once. Several of our party invested immediately in these most necessary appliances, in order to get round a little in what looked like a forlorn town; but ere an hour or so had passed we found the storm gone, and all in placid peace, while the stars shone down through the clear night with true southern brilliancy.

The next morning Dr. Higgins was once more with us, and was delighted to act as guide to our younger contingent, who did El Paso thoroughly, and went also across the river, the Rio Grande del Norte, into the Mexican town of Juarez. Some of the party met with a sad experience on their return, when they had to pay so much a pound tax, and _ad valorem_ besides, on a Mexican blanket whose gay stripes had taken their fancy in a shop at Juarez.

My cicerone was the Rev. M. Cabell Martin, Rector of St. Clement's, El Paso, who drove me in his buggy over the frontier to Juarez and showed me all that was to be seen. It is astonishing what a change one sees in little more than a few yards of distance. Once across the bridge from El Paso, and you are in a new atmosphere. El Paso is like a New England town, after all; a little rough here and there, a little strange it may be, like the strangeness of the city pets, the alligators, who sleep in luxurious laziness in the public square; but yet it all was in our ways, and we were at home. But in Juarez all is different. As we drive along, two men by the roadside making adobe looked as if they might have been with the Israelites in Egypt at the same business. With their naked legs they were kneading up the black muck, which, when of the proper consistency, they deftly moulded into form for the great master workman, the sun, to dry at his leisure and pleasure. The streets of the town seemed bare. The shops were in most cases without windows or exterior openings, save the entrance door. The booths and stalls in the streets for cheap eatables, vegetables, pottery, and odds and ends had a wild, gypsy grace about them, all water-colors, ready to be painted, just as they were.

We saw the post-office where Juarez kept up the government and existence of the Republic of Mexico during the whole of the Maximilian invasion. It was a close point to the United States for escape and liberty if he was molested. When Maximilian received his death-shot, Juarez went on with his presidency, taking no notice whatever of the usurpation as if it never had place. This man, of pure Indian blood, was certainly of heroic mould, and a stanch lover of light and liberty.

We looked into the church, a most interesting old adobe building, with walls of immense thickness. The interior was a well-proportioned parallelogram of good height, with a grand wooden roof of carved beams of a dark hue, possibly black with age. We were told that the work had been all done by native workmen in ages past. Part of the doors in the same style, like Aztec work, had been ripped away and thrown outside to make way for a jimcrack gallery for singers. We longed to bring those old doorposts with us, and looked up with gratification at the roof as yet safe in its distance and old magnificence. The church walls had been all done up in whitewash, and the altar was adorned with saints and a Madonna decked out in real laces, satins, velvets, and jewelry, possibly real also. The effect of it all was bizarre and a trifle depressing.

We saw the arena for the Sunday and _fete_-day bull fights, and also the square behind the church where the Mexican padre indulges in his form of church sociables and grab-bag business. He does it by letting out the spaces of the square to all sorts of three-card-monte men, and other catchpennies of that ilk, from December 8th, through the Christmas Holidays, until the following _fete_ of the Epiphany. It is said that the padre gets his percentage on the profits also. Poor man, he must have some compensation, for his lot is such that, under the laws of Mexico, he, or any other padre, cannot walk the streets in clerical garb, but must disguise their calling in the ordinary dress of a civilian. The padre in question, I was told, usually appeared in the dress of an ordinary peon.

We took a peep into the prison, and were instantly assailed by the prisoners behind the bars and in the open court within the gates, offering us for sale trinkets they had made. The Mexican prison rules do not oblige the jailers to provide food for their prisoners, so they must in some way hustle for themselves, buy from their jailers, or depend upon the charity of others. An officer in full uniform lounged on a chair near by the outer door, and soldiers in canvas uniforms were on guard with military rigidity, with arms in their hands. It was like a bit out of the Middle Ages, or a scene from the opera, where brigands and regulars have varying fortunes of conquering and being conquered.

It was nice to drive back over the Rio Grande del Norte again into the home land; to have a chat with the United States Custom House officer; to show him our purchases worth about fifty cents American money, for which we had got eight or ten pieces of pottery from a street vender, and then after our chat to be told "it was all right."

When we got into El Paso we saw the first touch of real war in the shape of a regiment of cavalry bound for New Orleans and Cuba. There were shouts and hurrahs as they moved off in their train, but not the noisy enthusiasm which one might expect. Our American people are not shouters, they are too serious. There is a silence about their most excited conditions which a stranger can hardly understand.

VIII

Leaving El Paso.--Deming.--The Desert.--The Armed Guard.--The Cacti and Other Flowers.--The Yuma Indians.--Avoiding Kodaks.--Rossetti's "Sister Helen."

We left El Paso with pleasant recollections of all the kindness we received there, and once again we travelled into the night. Ere that, however, we had ample time to note the rapidly increasing desert character of our surroundings. The whole thing was like a Salvator Rosa setting for wild adventure and daring lawlessness. I am confident that any one owning a horse there, and not overburdened with moral sense, would almost unconsciously become a desperado. May we not imagine that man is apt to develop within himself the characteristics of those animals who find a subsistence in such places? There the sly coyote, the panther, and wildcat inhabit; there, too, the rattlesnake and other venomous things have their life; and may not the environment which produces such creatures have like effect upon men who grow up or dwell there? Such were my reflections when at Deming, where we made a wait of twenty minutes, I saw an armed guard mount our train to be all ready for possible train robbers. One of the guards was a sweet-looking, mild-mannered man, quite young; but the conductor told me that that sweet fellow was the one who did the business, by a sure shot, in the last recent train-robbing escapade. It seemed all a matter of course, to fit in nicely with the landscape, and did not trouble us in the least nor disturb our tranquil rest. The morning found us all safe and unmolested, which was rather a disappointment to some of our ladies who wished especially to encounter a train robbery or hold-up. The ideal highwayman is ever held to be gallant to the ladies, even when depriving them in good old-fashioned way of their jewels.

The desert of Arizona, through which we were speeding, had the same pale and tawny look of dry, rocky, and alkaline soil; but nature is never idle anywhere. Here we were entertained with whirling processions of immense cacti, some thirty feet high, which seemed to dance past us in grim, grotesque fashion as we rode along. Some species were gorgeous in blood-red blossoms, an admirable contrast to the pale, bell-shaped flowers of the yucca plant.

At Yuma we had a vivid evidence of what care and irrigation can do even in this arid waste. The station enclosure was a mass of brilliant beauty. There were red, pink, and white oleanders. There were pomegranates in full bloom, with their rich yellow blossoms.

An enthusiastic German whom I met was quite enraptured with the sight of palms and flowers, and declared that the railroad company ought to establish oases such as this, but larger, at frequent intervals, well furnished with casinoes, music, hotels, and all the appliances of Monte Carlo. One can imagine that in this perfect air, and with such luxurious surroundings, a lotos sort of life might be enjoyed for a resting spell now and then.

The platform of the station was lined up with Indians having various trinkets for sale, more or less authentic. The rich tint of the Indian complexion, especially among the younger women and children, exactly harmonized with the bright light and vivid surroundings of the desert beyond and the flowers near by.