Early in August the American army left Puebla and took up its quarters outside the capital, having approached by a route south of Lake Chalco.

Santa Anna, having learned these movements, began fortifications at the Bridge and Church of Churubusco, four miles south of the city. There is no town here, only a few little scattered houses; in the time of the Aztecs, however, it was an important place, which clustered round the temple of their old god of war, Huitzilopochtli, of which the modern name is a derivation, having come a long way from its root. "The place," says an old chronicler, "was the dwelling and diabolical habitation of infernal spirits" until the priests of the Church cast them out. When the artillery of the American army rattled about their ears, the poor inhabitants may have fancied there had entered in devils worse than the first.

The Mexican general ordered a barricade to be erected in the road over which the American army must pass. This was done, but when Worth arrived he set the same Indians who had thrown up the barricade to level it again. These docile natives saw but little difference between one army and another, and they set to work with the same patient alacrity they had used to build the barricade, on the business of tearing it down again.

On the 18th the battle of Churubusco was fought, the Mexicans defending with great bravery a convent to which they had retreated. In this battle, lost by the Mexicans, many of their distinguished men perished. Gorostiza, a poet and dramatist, some of whose plays still hold the stage, lost his life valiantly commanding his battalion, although he was old and infirm.

It was all in vain. The Americans gained the convent and the town, in spite of the valor of the defenders and the bravery of General Anaya, who was in command. The Mexicans left alive were taken prisoners, and the Americans triumphed. The day of Churubusco is regarded by the Mexicans as a glorious one, in spite of their defeat. A monument stands in the Plaza in memory of the heroes who died there defending their country.

Closer and closer drew the lines of the hostile force. There was an armistice after the battle of Churubusco; fighting began again at Molino del Rey, a range of stone buildings under the fire of the heavy guns of the Castle of Chapultepec. General Scott was informed that a foundry was in operation at that place, and that bells from the steeples of the city had lately been dismounted, probably to be recast there for cannon. This turned his attention to the place. It was attacked on the night of September 8th, and taken the next day after furious resistance. Inside the Molino were some few old cannon moulds, but no evidence of recent founding. The Americans were now close under the fortifications of Chapultepec, whose guns had played incessantly upon them from daylight throughout the action.

This also is regarded by the Mexicans as a brilliant action, as it undoubtedly was on their part, as well as that of the daring invaders. During the battle, the bells of the city were ringing a continuous joyful peal, as if to assert a victory beforehand. The city was wholly confident in the impregnability of its stronghold, the Castle of Chapultepec.

Yet on the 13th this difficult fortress was attacked by General Pillow, scaled and taken by the American troops. General Bravo was in command of the castle, while Santa Anna was occupied with other exposed places. Under him were eight hundred men, among them the pupils of the Military College established there. The General was taken prisoner; many of the brave young fellows, before they had gone beyond the first lessons of military science, were taught its last and most bitter one,—death, in the defence of their citadel. The American soldiers rushed in at the many different doors of the college; it is said that they showed unusual ferocity, made savages by the custom of slaughter among the Mexicans in former engagements. Quarter was rarely given, a practice learned of the Spaniards themselves; for a few moments the struggle was fearful, and the bloodshed unrestrained. Parties of American officers found their way to the Azotea, and tore down the Mexican colors, while the standards of two United States regiments were displayed. The shouts of the victors announced to the city that her stronghold had fallen.

The taking of Chapultepec was practically the end of the war. The city of Mexico was shortly after occupied, and although the negotiations for peace were long and tiresome, the end was obvious.

On the 2d of February, 1848, a treaty was confirmed, called that of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, from the name of the little suburb city where it was signed. Mexico received fifteen millions of dollars, by way of indemnity; but lost the territory of Alta California, New Mexico, Texas, and a part of her state of Coahuila, by the agreement to consider the windings of the Rio Bravo del Norte, or Rio Grande, as the boundary between the two nations, as far as it goes; that is, to a direct line parallel with San Diego on the coast of California.

No sooner had California fallen into the hands of the Americans, than it turned out to be full of gold. In that very year, 1848, began the gold fever of California, and emigration poured in from all parts of the States, so that rapidly the territory, unknown and neglected by the Mexicans, grew to be a most important State. San Francisco, then a little straggling Mexican port, is now a large and flourishing city.

This is a result of the war which must be viewed with impatience, to say the least, by the Mexicans, who saw themselves, at the time, forced to relinquish this large amount of territory without the power of refusal. On the other hand, there is room for thinking that California, left in the hands of that people, might have remained to this day undiscovered, with its wealth still hidden in the earth. Whatever comfort this may be, is open to the losing side.

The war left them disgraced and humiliated, with ruined cities and desolated homes scattered over the land. It is probable, however, that the permanent effect of the war was beneficial. It taught the Mexicans, for one thing, to distrust the prestige of their army, and humbled the pretensions of a crowd of military men, who, while they aspired to the highest offices of government, proved themselves not only incapable of serving their country thus, but incompetent in the field. High praise, however, is always to be assigned to the courage and bravery of the army, its commanders, and private soldiers, especially in the defence of their capital when the struggle reached its last agony.

The United States by the war acquired an immense extent of territory, by many of its citizens, however, even at the time, regarded as a questionable good. The acquisition of so much slave territory without doubt hastened the crisis which called for the civil war of 1861. The experiences of the American army in the Mexican war, and the glory, exaggerated perhaps, which attached to their feats of arms, stimulated the taste for military pursuits, before very moderate in a peaceful and industrious land. The heroes of the campaign of Anahuac were transferred to the field of politics. General Taylor became President of the United States, and General Scott narrowly escaped it. The defects of the army were recognized and in great measure remedied, so that when the civil war did come, both armies, on the two contending sides of that unfortunate conflict, were in a state of readiness much in advance of the condition of the national troops before the campaign in Mexico, while a crop of officers, heroes of the so-called glorious victories of Palo Alto, Buena Vista, and the rest, responded to the call of loyalty, or rebellion, with the alacrity of experience.

After the evacuation of Mexico an attempt was made by the Americans to capture Santa Anna. General Lane, who with a small force was engaged in driving guerrillas from the roads, received information that this general was at Tehuacan, not very far from Puebla. After marching all night in that direction, he occupied two large haciendas in that neighborhood, where his men and horses were concealed during daylight, and the Mexican residents held close prisoners. When evening arrived the command marched on towards Tehuacan. About five miles out they met a carriage with an escort of ten or twelve armed men. They were stopped, but the occupant of the carriage produced a written safeguard over the signature of an American general, and upon this the whole party was allowed to proceed. General Lane arrived at Tehuacan just at daylight, and entered it at once. But the bird had flown. Santa Anna had been there; but, warned by a breathless messenger on horseback, who rode back from the carriage the soldiers had met, to give him news of the approach of the soldiers, had just time enough to make his escape, with his family, leaving all his effects, which were quickly plundered by the troops of Lane's command.

On Friday 1st, before the treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, Santa Anna informed the Minister of War and the American Commander-in-Chief that he desired to leave Mexico and seek an asylum on a foreign soil, where he "might pass his last days in that tranquillity which he could never find in the land of his birth." This permission was granted, and he went to Jamaica, leaving his country at peace, but not forever.

Ulysses S. Grant, then a young soldier in the army of the United States, took part in the Mexican war. He went into the battle of Palo Alto as second lieutenant, at the age of twenty-six, and entered the city of Mexico sixteen months later with the conquering army.

In his personal memoirs General Grant expresses his opinion that the Mexican war was one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a weaker nation. "It was an instance," he says, "of a republic following the bad example of European monarchies, in not considering justice in their desire to acquire additional territory."