Remember the Alamo. Amelia E. Barr

that mystical silence in which every new day is born. Then Robert Worth rose from the chair in which he had been sitting so long, remembering the past and forecasting the future. He walked to the window, opened it, and looked towards the mountains. They had an ethereal hue, a light without rays, a clearness almost polar in its severity. But in some way their appearance infused into his soul calmness and strength.

      “Liberty has always been bought with life, and the glory of the greatest nations handseled with the blood of their founders.” This was the thought in his heart, as looking far off to the horizon, he asked hopefully:

      “What then, O God, shall this good land produce

       That Thou art watering it so carefully?”

      CHAPTER V.

       A FAMOUS BARBECUE.

       Table of Contents

      “So when fierce zeal a nation rends,

       And stern injustice rules the throne,

       Beneath the yoke meek virtue bends,

       And modest truth is heard to groan.

       But when fair Freedom’s star appears,

       Then hushed are sighs, and calmed are fears.

       And who, when nations long opprest,

       Decree to curb the oppressor’s pride,

       And patriot virtues fire the breast,

       Who shall the generous ardor chide?

       What shall withstand the great decree,

       When a brave nation will be free?

      It is flesh and blood that makes husbands and wives, fathers and children, and for the next few days these ties were sorely wounded in Robert Worth’s house. The Senora was what Rachela called “difficult.” In reality, she was angry and sullen. At such times she always went early to mass, said many prayers, and still further irritated herself by unnecessary fasting. But there are few homes which totally escape the visitations of this ‘pious temper’ in some form or other. And no creed modifies it; the strict Calvinist and strict Catholic are equally disagreeable while under its influence.

      Besides, the Senora, like the ill-tempered prophet, thought she “did well to be angry.” She imagined herself deserted and betrayed in all her tenderest feelings, her husband a rebel, her home made desolate, her sons and daughters supporting their father’s imprudent views. She could only see one alternative before her; she must choose between her country and her religion, or her husband and children.

      True, she had not yet heard from her sons, but she would listen to none of Rachela’s hopes regarding them. Thomas had always said yes to all his father’s opinions. How could she expect anything from John when he was being carefully trained in the very principles which everywhere made the Americans so irritating to the Mexican government.

      Her husband and Antonia she would not see. Isabel she received in her darkened room, with passionate weeping and many reproaches. The unhappy husband had expected this trouble at the outset. It was one of those domestic thorns which fester and hamper, but to which the very best of men have to submit. He could only send pleasant and affectionate messages by Rachela, knowing that Rachela would deliver them with her own modifications of tone and manner.

      “The Senor sends his great love to the Senora. Grace of Mary! If he would do a little as the most wise and tender of spouses wishes him! That would be for the good fortune of every one.

      “Ah, Rachela, my heart is broken! Bring me my mantilla. I will go to early mass, when one’s husband and children forsake them, who, then, is possible but the Holy Mother?

      “My Senora, you will take cold; the morning is chill; besides, I have to say the streets will be full of those insolent Americans.”

      “I shall be glad to take cold, perhaps even to die. And the Americans do not offend women. Even the devil has his good points.”

      “Holy Virgin! Offend women! They do not even think us worth looking at. But then it is an intolerable offence to see them standing in our streets, as if they had made the whole land.”

      But this morning, early as it was, the streets were empty of Americans. There had been hundreds of them there at the proclamation; there was not one to be seen twelve hours afterwards. But at the principal rendezvous of the city, and on the very walls of the Alamo, they had left this characteristic notice:

      “To SANTA ANNA:

       “If you want our arms-take them.

       “TEN THOUSAND AMERICAN TEXANS.”