Aaron Burr — The McGregor and his kingdom — Mina's expedition and fate — The Alamo massacre — Travis, Bowie, and Crockett — The tragedy of Goliad — Houston and Santa Ana — Victory of San Jacinto — The Santa Fe and Mier expeditions. While Miranda's ambitious schemes were drawing the notice of the State department towards the seaboard, a more serious filibustering scheme was quietly hatching in another quarter, in the brain of one of the boldest and ablest adventurers known to American history. The imperial crown of the Montezumas was the prize for which an ex-vice-president of the United States risked fame, fortune, everything—and lost! The story of Aaron Burr is a matter of familiar history. His demoralized forces surrendered at Bayou Pierre, on the Mississippi, on January 17, 1807. Acquitted of the charge of treason, for which he was tried, but condemned by the unanimous opinion of his contemporaries, the sober judgment of history must pause before endorsing either verdict. The relations of Spain and the United States were in a hopelessly tangled state. Burr proposed to settle the disputed question of territorial rights by conquering the whole of Spanish North America, a scheme which his countrymen might not have severely rebuked or discouraged; but, unfortunately for his fame, Burr's ambition was personal and selfish. He would conquer, but not for his country's sake—a distinction, even then, sufficient to constitute a grave offence against the sovereign people. What are now known as the Gulf States—Florida, Louisiana, and Texas—were then held under the colonial sway of Spain. The first and second became absorbed by purchase. Texas, as early as 1812, had begun to invite the notice of the restless filibustering element, but its more immediate importance lay in its convenience as a field of operations for the Mexican revolutionists. Hidalgo and his compatriots unfurled the standard of independence in September, 1810. Their first attempt to enlist outside aid was made six months later, when Bernardo Guttierez de Lara, a native Mexican, was sent as a commissioner to Washington to invoke recognition for the new Republic. His mission failing, Guttierez went to New Orleans and began recruiting adventurers, with such success that he was able in February, 1812, to lead a force of 450 men across the border into Texas. His success was brilliant from the outset; and, in spite of some serious reverses, he succeeded in making himself master of Leon and Texas. Then came into play the unfailing ally of tyranny, corruption. Alvarez de Toledo, who had been appointed the successor of Guttierez as commissioner to Washington, made use of his position to negotiate with the Spanish minister for the betrayal of his compatriot. Returning to Texas, he incited mutiny among the troops of Guttierez, who deposed their commander and appointed Alvarez to succeed him. Personal ambition, rather than treason to his country, must have been the motive influencing the latter; for when the Royalist general, Arredondo, marched with an overwhelming force against the patriots at San Antonio de Bexar, Alvarez boldly gave him battle. Guttierez, with noble patriotism, fought in the ranks of his late command and did not survive the defeat. His heroic devotion was imitated on the same spot by Barrett Travis, twenty-two years afterwards. The defeat and death of Guttierez occurred on March 15, 1814. Among the Americans who took service under Guttierez was Augustus W. Magee, of Massachusetts, who laid down his commission as a lieutenant in the United States army to join the filibusters. His fate was peculiar. After several successes he found himself, as he supposed, so beset by Governor Salcedo that he made terms for the surrender of himself and followers and their transportation to the United States. But the men boldly refused to abide by the timid measures of their leader, disavowed the contract, and actually assailed and routed the enemy, who was awaiting their surrender. Magee, overcome with shame at the success of those whom he had proved himself unworthy to lead, blew out his brains on the night of the victory. Reuben Kemper, of Virginia, was another of the American adventurers of a widely different type. He is described as a man of gigantic proportions, with a voice and a heart to match his stalwart frame, and a profanity that attracted attention even on that Homeric field. As early as 1808 he made an attempt to capture Baton Rouge, and was kidnapped for his pains by the Spaniards, who would have cut short his career summarily but for the intervention of the United States commander at Pointe CoupÉe. On attaining his liberty, Kemper vowed to devote his life to the extirpation of Spanish rule in America. In 1812 he led an abortive attempt to capture Mobile, but was more successful on receiving from Guttierez the command of six hundred Americans with whom he gained several victories. Dissensions in the patriot ranks at last sent him home in disgust. He afterwards served with distinction under Jackson at New Orleans, and survived to witness the final extinction of Spanish rule on the American continent. About this time occurred, like a burlesque injected into a tragedy, the extraordinary episode of "Citizen Gregor McGregor", or Sir George McGregor, which is said to have been his legitimate title in his native Scotland, who claimed dominion over Florida, then a Spanish possession. McGregor was the wearer of many titles, among them those of "Brigadier General of the Armies of the United Provinces of New Granada and Venezuela, and General-in-Chief of the armies of the Two Floridas, Commissioned by the Supreme Directors of Mexico and South America, and Cacique of Poyais, the last-named having been conferred by His Majesty George Frederick Augustus, King of the Mosquito Coast." Incidentally he claimed to be chief of the clan Alpin, or Gregor, of Scotland. Mr. Alfred M. Williams, author of the admirable "Life of General Houston," says of The McGregor: He had taken a part in the South American revolution, and married a woman who was, or professed to be, a sister of Simon Bolivar. Failing to win fortune in South America, "Gen." McGregor sailed away in a small schooner which he had obtained possession of, and appeared in Baltimore in the winter of 1817. There, without attracting any particular attention from the authorities, he enlisted a small number of men for the conquest of Florida, and landed on Amelia Island in June, where he issued a proclamation suitable to his titles of distinction, and promised "to plant the Green Cross of Florida on the proud walls of St. Augustine." Whatever is to be said of the other Filibusters, they were not blatherskites and charlatans, and of this class Gregor McGregor most distinctly was. Failing to gather any recruits to his standard, McGregor was persuaded by one Woodbine, an English adventurer, who figured a good deal in the troubles which led to Jackson's summary execution of Arbuthnot and Ambrister, to sail for New Providence, where a British regiment had recently been disbanded, and where, as in former years, there was abundance of material in the shape of broken men and the waifs and strays of adventure, in the hope of enlisting a force, to be joined by one of 1500 Indians under Woodbine for the conquest of Florida. McGregor sailed for New Providence, but probably impressed with the idea that the conquest of Florida would require something more than a proclamation, determined "to arrange his private affairs," which it will be seen, that he subsequently did to his great advantage. McGregor's Filibuster expedition in Florida did not quite end with the withdrawal of the leader to attend to his private affairs. One Commodore Aury of the Mexican Liberal forces, appeared on the scene with some small vessels and a motley crew of one hundred and fifty men, made up, as usual, of land and water pirates, refugees and adventurers of every shade of color and nationality, and set up a provisional Government, fortified Fernandina and endeavored, without success, to get together a Legislature representing the people of Florida. He was attacked at Fernandina by the miserable, half mulatto, Spanish troops from St. Augustine, and beat them off without much difficulty. But Aury's troubles were more internal than external. Part of the Filibusters were sincerely desirous of driving out the Spaniards and setting up a free Government in Florida, as was Aury himself, but the majority were simply desirous of making Fernandina a smuggling and piratical headquarters, as Barataria Bay was, and an entrepot for landing slave cargoes from Africa. They quarrelled and fought among themselves, and, in the meantime, had made themselves such a pest and nuisance to American commerce, by piracy and wrecking, and by stealing as well as selling slaves, that President Monroe, probably also foreseeing that Florida would soon fall into the lap of the United States, sent a land and naval force to demand the surrender of Fernandina, which was abandoned by the Filibusters early in the winter of 1818 and turned over to the Spanish authorities. But in the meantime Sir Gregor McGregor had conceived the safer and more profitable idea of founding a kingdom by colonization, rather than by conquest. In 1822 he made his appearance in Edinburgh and announced that he had become the proprietor, by a grant from His Majesty, the King of the Mosquitos, of an immense and valuable territory on the banks of the Black river, which possessed all the advantages of the Garden of Eden in the way of climate, soil and natural productiveness, and which only wanted settlers to add thereto the luxuries, with none of the labors, of civilization. This delectable country was named Poyais, and he himself was the Cacique thereof, a title, which, so to speak, reeked with barbaric richness and grandeur. He opened subscription books to the amount of two hundred thousand pounds, the greater proportion of which was actually paid in. In the meantime he transacted business in a regal fashion, occupying a town house in the fashionable quarter, besides a villa in the country, to which he occasionally retired when fatigued by the affairs of State. He appointed a full set of Government officers, including a Lord Chancellor, but himself, it is to be presumed, retaining the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer, and a military staff, clad in gorgeous green uniforms. He also established an order of knighthood, and, like other wise monarchs, had his historiographer and poet. The former produced a book dedicated to His Highness the Cacique of Poyais, entitled "Sketch of the Mosquito Shore, Including the Territory of Poyais; Description of the Country, with Some Information as to its Productions, the Best Mode of Culture, etc.; Chiefly Intended for the Use of Settlers. By Thomas Strangeways, K.G.C., Captain First Native Poyais Infantry, and Aid-de-Camp to His Highness Cacique of Poyais," in which the healthfulness and richness of the country were set forth with all the force of an untrammeled imagination; and the poet, a female relative of the Cacique, produced a popular song entitled "The Poyais Emigrant," in which love and lucre were attractively blended: "Through smiling vales, 'neath lofty hills, Through citron groves we'll stray together, Our star of life will sweetly set, When blessed in wealth and one another." "With jewels rare, I'll busk your hair, The fairest flowers for you I'll gather; The rose's bloom, its rich perfume, Is sweet as any Highland heather," etc. When everything had been concluded, His Royal Highness, the Cacique of Poyais, gave a regal reception to his court and faithful subjects, when they were admitted to the presence of the Cacique and Caciquess, who were seated on a dais, and graciously permitted to kiss their hands. A collation was served, and as this was the only substantial return obtained for their investments, it is to be hoped that they had better appetite than the Kentucky Colonel, who, after an unsuccessful night at the gaming table, was invited to stay and partake of some refreshments, and responded with a vigorous negative, and the query: "Do you suppose I can eat 1100 dollars worth of ham and get even?" A party of unfortunate emigrants actually went out to the kingdom of Poyais, where they found that the King of the Mosquitos did not recognize any grant as having been made to the Cacique; but they were graciously allowed to remain until the pestilential fevers carried off most of them, and the remainder were rescued by a relief party. As for Sir Gregor McGregor, he disappeared permanently from public view, taking with him, it is presumed, the treasure chest of his Government. Another stormy petrel blown from Europe to Mexican seas was Don Francisco Javier Mina, who managed to compress a world of adventure into his brief life. Born at Idocin in Spain in 1789, he won fame while a mere youth by leading his hardy mountaineers in many a guerrilla fight against the French. In his twenty-first year he had gained the rank of colonel, and was on the high road to preferment when the blind policy of King Ferdinand drove him into rebellion, along with his uncle, the brave General Espoz y Mina. A well-planned scheme of revolution having failed, he fled the country and made his way to England, where he was warmly welcomed. His talents and courage inspired the government of that country, which for reasons of its own wished to foment insurrection in Spanish America, to equip him for a renewal of warfare against Ferdinand on his transatlantic territory. He arrived in the United States well supplied with money and letters to the friends of the Mexican revolutionists, and on April 15, 1817, he landed a force of 270 men from New Orleans at Soto la Marina. Defeating a superior force of Royalists in several engagements, he made a junction with the revolutionary army, and speedily drove the enemy out of the Northern provinces. It was a far harder task, however, to overcome the jealousy and incompetence of Torres, then in chief command; and Mina, betrayed by his allies, fell into the hands of Viceroy Apodaca, who had him immediately executed, with twenty-five of his followers, on November 11, 1817. Mina was but twenty-eight years old when he ended his career, but he had given proofs of rare worth as a soldier and a patriot. Among the Americans who shared his fortunes was Colonel Perry, of New Orleans. Despairing of success, as soon as he discovered the worthlessness of the native leaders, he abruptly withdrew from the army and undertook, with only fifty followers, to cut his way back to the United States by land. In this attempt they partially succeeded, but were soon overtaken and surrounded by an overwhelming force. Perry rejected all demands to surrender until, the last of his band having fallen by his side, he put a pistol to his head and blew out his brains. When Mexico at last won her freedom, her most northerly state, Texas, held an anomalous position. A large proportion of its people was made up of Americans who had borne their share in the battle for liberty. By birth and associations they were more closely allied with their Northern than with their Southern neighbours. It did not take them long to learn that Mexico, in changing her government had not changed her nature. The intolerance of the new rulers differed little from that of the old, while civil government was far less stable under the Republic than it had been while swayed by the Spaniard. Upon the declaration of Texan independence in September, 1835, General Cos marched a large army into the rebellious state, determined to drive the rash intruders out of the country. In the first engagement, at Gonzales, the Texans routed their foes, and General Cos was forced to take refuge behind the walls of the Alamo, in San Antonio de Bexar. But the Texan blood was now fairly up, and General Burlison, with only 216 men, laid siege to the fortress. The garrison numbered 1,700, but in spite of the fearful odds, the Texans stormed the place and sent General Cos under parole to his astonished brother-in-law, the redoubtable Santa Ana. Colonel James Bowie, who had just defeated another large Mexican force, at the Mission Concepcion, joined Colonel Travis at the Alamo. Bowie was a Georgian, born in Burke County, about 1790. Not much is known of his career until the year 1827, when he became famous throughout the Southwest by his participation in a "difficulty" between two citizens of Natchez, Mississippi. Several friends of both combatants assisted at the duel and a general fight was the natural and welcome result. During the melÉe, Bowie was wounded, but killed one of his antagonists with a knife which a blacksmith had made for him out of a large file or rasp. The fame of the new weapon spread under the name of the "Bowie Knife", which still holds a high place in the affections of those who love close fighting. Oliver Wendell Holmes drily compares it to the short sword of the ancient Romans and says that "nations which shorten their weapons lengthen their boundaries". Bowie fought at San Saba in 1831 and at Nacogdoches and Concepcion in 1835 and commanded as Colonel at Grass Fight, on Oct. 25, 1835. There is no doubt that Bowie was one of the bravest and coolest men that ever lived, even in Texas. To the Alamo presently also came "Davy" Crockett, of Tennessee, hunter, soldier, Congressman, unique in history. David Crockett was the fifth son of John Crockett, an Irish soldier of the Revolutionary War. He was born on August 17, 1786, at the mouth of Limestone on the Nolachuky River, Tennessee. The time and place were suitable for the development of a hardy character. The father and mother of John Crockett were murdered by the Creek Indians, a brother was wounded and another captured and held by the savages for seventeen years. Young "Davy" had slender opportunities of obtaining an education. Such as they were he sedulously avoided them. He was sent to school at the age of twelve, but spent only four days there, playing "hookey" until discovered by his father who did not neglect Solomon's advice. The youth thereupon ran away from home and had the usual unromantic experience attending such an escapade. He found employment with waggoners, farmers and others, some of whom cheated him and others paid him but scantily. The young prodigal returned home when he was fifteen years old and justified his forgiving welcome by working a whole year to pay off some of his father's debts. Then of his own accord and at his own expense he went to school for six months, learning to read a little, to write less and to master some of the first three rules of arithmetic. With that his book education was completed. Not so, however, his more practical tuition. He became a thorough woodsman, a mighty hunter and the crack rifle shot of the neighborhood. Then, at the mature age of eighteen, he determined to get married; the which he did by running away with a pretty Irish girl whose parents had the bad taste to object to him as a son-in-law. Then, as he says in his autobiography, "having gotten my wife, I thought I was completely made up, and needed nothing more in the whole world. But I soon found this was all a mistake—for now having a wife, I wanted everything else; and, worse than all, I had nothing to give for it." However, the stern parents became reconciled to the situation; his wife was a true helpmeet and their married life began happily. But the country was too thickly populated, in Crockett's opinion, and so he moved further into the wilderness. The Creek War broke out shortly afterwards and he served gallantly in that and in the Florida war under General Jackson, as also in the brilliant campaign of that General against the British, culminating in the victory of New Orleans. Politics next occupied his attention and he was elected first a magistrate, next a member of the State legislature and then to the national Congress, in which last he served three terms. Being defeated in his next attempt at re-election, he determined to abandon the ungrateful field of politics, and calling his late constituents together told them in language more forcible than elegant that they might all go to a warmer country and he would go to Texas. In this resolve he believed that he was following his own famous advice: "Be sure you're right, then go ahead." Colonel Barrett Travis had 144 men with him in the Alamo when Santa Ana and 4,000 Mexicans sat down before it, demanding an unconditional surrender, on February 23, 1836. Cos, heedless of his parole, was with the besiegers. Travis answered with a cannon shot, and the enemy hoisted the red flag, signifying "no quarter." In no spirit of bravado, but with a sincerity which the event only too fully confirmed, the Texan commander issued the following proclamation:— "To the People of Texas and all Americans in the World. "Commandancy of the Alamo, Bexar, "February 24, 1836. "Fellow Citizens and Compatriots,—I am besieged by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Ana. I have sustained a continual bombardment and cannonade for twenty-four hours and have not lost a man. The enemy have demanded a surrender at discretion; otherwise the garrison is to be put to the sword if the fort is taken. I have answered the summons with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves proudly from the walls. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then I call on you in the name of liberty, patriotism, and everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all despatch. The enemy are receiving reinforcements daily, and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. Though this call may be neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible, and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honour and that of his country. Victory or death! "(Signed) "W. Barrett Travis, Houston, to whom Travis addressed an urgent call for reinforcements, could do nothing. On the 3rd of March, with death staring the little garrison in the face, Travis sent a despatch to the Revolutionary committee, calmly stating his position, reiterating his determination never to surrender, and dwelling with almost impersonal interest on the beneficial effect to follow such determined resistance as he and his men were making. "I will do the best I can under the circumstances," he says, "and I feel confident that the determined valour and desperate courage heretofore evinced by my men will not fail them in the last struggle; and although they may be sacrificed to the vengeance of a Gothic enemy, the victory will cost the enemy so dear that it will be worse for him than a defeat." Day by day the toils were drawn closer around the doomed walls. Day by day the little garrison was thinned by wounds and sickness. Vainly they gazed northward across the plain for the invoked aid. The hungry eye beheld only a long train of Mexican recruits hastening like vultures to the feast of blood. Once they were gladdened by the sight of a little band of countrymen spurring towards the walls. But they were no forerunners of a relieving army. Thirty-two gallant Texans threw themselves into the fort, cutting their way through the besiegers, simply and solely that they might fight with their comrades; that they might be found, living or dead, by the side of David Crockett and Barrett Travis. Each morning a dwindling garrison answered to the roll-call, and the thin ranks were stretched a little wider apart along the crumbling ramparts which it had needed thrice their numbers to defend. They husbanded their scanty stores. They never wasted a shot. During that long and terrible fortnight it is said that nearly ten victims fell to each American rifle. With a thousand of his men shot down, and trembling in baffled wrath, Santa Ana on the fourteenth day, ordered another general assault. His officers drove their men to the breach at the sword's point. When the smoke of battle had rolled away there was silence in the Alamo. The dead and dying strewed the ground. Santa Ana entered the fort. On the rampart, dead at his post, lay the commander, Travis, shot through the head. Beside him was the body of a Mexican officer, pierced to the heart by the sword still clutched in the dead hero's hand. They found Bowie in his own room. He was sick in bed when they broke into it, but his trusty rifle was with him, and four Mexicans died before he was reached. A fifth fell across his dead body, pierced through and through by the terrible knife. At the door of the magazine they shot Evans, ere he could touch a match and wreak a Samson vengeance on the foe. Santa Ana stepped into the court-yard. There were six prisoners. His orders were that none should be taken. Nevertheless, David Crockett and five others had stoutly resisted, until his clubbed rifle broken in his sinewy hands, the dauntless backwoodsman listened to the promise of quarter. Santa Ana paused a moment before his unmoved captives. It was but for a moment. The next his hand sought the hilt of his sword. Crockett, divining his purpose, sprang at the traitor, but he was too late; a dozen blades had flashed at the sign and the hapless prisoners fell dead, the last of all the garrison. These men of the Alamo were volunteers, simple citizens, bound by no tie save that of fealty to cause and comrades. Unsung of poet, all but unnamed in history, the brave men of the Alamo went to their certain death, with a sublime fortitude, beside which the obedient immolation of Balaklava's Six Hundred is but the triumph of disciplined machines. A monument raised to their memory bears the magnificent inscription:— "ThermopylÆ had its messenger of defeat; the Alamo had none." It needs more than judicial impartiality to question the right of the Texan revolution while telling the story of the Alamo. Right and wrong are barred from consideration in recalling the tragedy of Goliad. Colonel Fannin and 330 of his men, who had surrendered to Santa Ana as prisoners of war, under a solemn promise that they should be returned to the United States, were marched out of the fort, on the morning of Palm Sunday, March 27, 1836, and, without a moment's warning, fired upon and murdered in cold blood. The outlaws to whom this fearful penalty was dealt out, without even the mockery of a Spanish trial, were all young men or lads, "the oldest not over thirty years of age." The world, freely as its soil is saturated with human blood, stood aghast at this horrible slaughter. Texas trembled at the Mexican's vengeance. Houston alone, husbanding his scanty means, animating his raw levies, working, planning, providing for all, laid his trap with such shrewd forethought, that in less than two months he had sprung it upon Santa Ana and all his army, and on the banks of the San Jacinto, dictated terms of peace to his captive, the butcher of the Alamo and Goliad. The victory was unstained by a single act of revenge. Thenceforth the world knew that Texas was free. The men who could use success with such forbearance were men worthy of self-government. Texas striving for independence was to the nations of the world an object of keener interest than Texas sending her heroic filibusters to nameless graves. Lord Palmerston, anticipating with literal exactness the policy of a later administration dealing with Central America, threatened to send a ship of war to Texas "to demand payment of certain claims against the republic." The United States, with a similar foreshadowing of its future policy, at once took measures to insure the independence of Texas against all European meddlers. As usual, the people were in advance of their government, and Texas became a state of the American union, Mexico's attempt to hold it costing her the fairest part of her domain. Before this happy end was reached, more than one bloody tragedy had been added to the gloomy history of Texas. In June, 1841, General McLeod led from Austin a party of 320 men, bound for Santa Fe, New Mexico, upon the ostensibly peaceful mission of opening up trade with that place. His real aim was to foment insurrection against the Mexican Government and annex the territory to Texas. After a long and painful journey through woods and desert, being attacked by Indians, and lost on the then mysterious waste of the "Llanos Estacados," the expedition reached the frontier in scattered parties which were promptly captured by Governor Armijo. It was not, however, until after they had given up their arms, under the false representations of a traitorous comrade and the promise of friendly treatment from Armijo, that they found out how grievous had been their error in trusting to the word of the Mexican. The whole party, with the exception of three or four who had been put to death in pure wantonness, were sent under a strong guard to the city of Mexico, making the long and painful journey on foot, exposed to the grossest outrages from their brutal guard. Many died on the way, and the survivors were thrown into prison, where they lingered for months, until the miserable remnant were at last set free at the motion of the British and American ministers. Liberty was granted at the same time to the survivors of the Mier Expedition—an ill-starred band who, in December, 1842, had crossed the Rio Grande in pursuit of Mexican raiders. Colonel William Fisher headed the party, numbering about five hundred, their general, Somerville, having declined to lead them over the border. At the town of Mier they met and repulsed over two thousand Mexicans under General Ampudia, but their leader was wounded in the fight, and, against the protests of his chief officers, agreed to a conditional surrender. The terms, of course, were broken by the victor, and the unfortunate prisoners were hurried into the interior and buried in dungeons with the lowest convicts. Captain Ewin Cameron, one of the boldest in the band, foreseeing the fate before them, organized an attack on the guard before reaching their prison. They overpowered their armed escort, and made their way to the mountains, whence a few managed to reach Texas, but the greater part were recaptured, including their courageous leader. Santa Ana ordered them to be decimated. Cameron was lucky enough to draw a white bean in the fatal lottery, but it did not avail him. He was shot the next day. Few men would be found willing to increase the risks against them in such a terrible game of hazard; but there was one, a youth named George Bibb Crittenden, who, drawing a white bean, gave it to a comrade, with the self-sacrificing words, "You have a wife and children; I haven't, and I can afford to risk another chance." He did so, and fortunately again drew a safe lot. Crittenden survived to participate gallantly in the Mexican War, and attained the rank of brigadier-general on the Southern side in the Civil War. He was a son of the Kentucky statesman, John J. Crittenden. The prisoners were scattered amongst various strongholds, where many sank under disease, starvation, and cruelty. The survivors when freed were turned adrift, penniless, to make the best of their way home to the United States. General Thomas J. Green was one of those who escaped by tunnelling the walls of the castle of Perote; the story of which exploit, with his subsequent adventures, he has told in a book little known but of vast interest. It needs a Scott to tell to the world the story of our border romance, though no fiction ever surpassed the thrilling facts which were then of almost daily occurrence. Fame is a curious gift of the gods. Colonel Crockett, the daring soldier, is all but forgotten, while the whimsical, semi-fabulous "Davy" Crockett, hero of a hundred wild stories, seems likely to live for ever. Few remember how heroically he "went ahead," to the last extremity, after first making sure of what was "right" and fit in a patriot. Knightly scutcheon never bore a nobler device than that of the simple backwoodsman, nor lived there ever a preux chevalier who set a higher value upon his plighted word. There were brave men, too, before Agamemnon. Mexier and Perry and Nolan, names well known on the border, lived and fought, and died, alas in vain, before the adopted son of an Indian, sturdy Sam Houston, crowned the long struggle with victory. Filibusters all, if you will, but every one a man, in an age when manliness is none too highly prized, and a country which is belied as the chosen home of dollar worshippers merely. |