churches in Mexico, there are a number of scriptural images cut in stone, and among them one of the fathers with the infant Messiah in his hands. On this occasion, one of our buckskin Republicans, who had struck for liberty, rode up, and not finding a convenient swinging limb to hitch his "critter" to, he threw the larieta over the head of the young Jesus. Very soon the animal took fright, pulled back, and carried away the head. At the sight of which, the men, women, and children, old and young, swarmed around the desecrated image, crossing themselves in prayer, showing by their countenances a degree of grief, indignation, and horror which it would be impossible to describe.

The first care of our liberty-man was to secure his horse, and then he went up to the old woman who held the head, and appeared, if possible, more distressed than the balance, and said, "Ole 'omen, now it ain't no use to make such a fuss about the thing. I didn't know that the 'tarnal critter was goin' to pull off his head: you have got d--n mean stone about here, anyhow." This speech the Republican [282] considered the amende honorable, and went his way whistling, leaving the group in prayer to propitiate the calamity.

A gentleman of Dan's leisure now required intellectual recreation, and among his other teachings he persuaded the ignorant Péon who sold us ass's milk that "it was the richness of the milk which made their ears so much longer than either those of the cow or horse," and that the length of their ears respectively was in proportion to the substance of the milk; "for," says he, "don't you see that corn will grow higher in rich than in poor land?" There was no resisting this argument, and this poor fellow left the castle a wiser man than any other dealer in ass's milk.

Mr. Black, the American consul in Mexico, humanely sent us a trunk of clothes and a blanket each, for which we were sincerely thankful. Captain West, formerly of Philadelphia, also sent us from Mexico a trunk of clothes and some writing materials, for which we acknowledged many obligations. Also, Dr.-----, and Señor Conzalvi,* sent us a package of English books, which rendered our confinement more tolerable, and for which we shall long remember them with gratitude.[283]

Young Billy Reese, who had just recovered from a dangerous illness in Mexico, was on his way to Texas, and came by to see us. He confirmed the melancholy intelligence of the decimation of our seventeen companions at Salado. This intelligence threw a still darker gloom over our imprisonment. When, a few days after, we heard of the shooting of the heroic Captain Cameron,12 and the more than heroic manner in which they all met death, all of us shed tears to their memory - we trust, not tears of forgetfulness.

After the horrible murder of our seventeen countrymen at Salado on the

* August, 1845. A few days since, in passing up Canal-street, in New-Orleans, I met at 118, where he keeps a coffee-house, this excellent man, Señor Conzalvi. His disinterested friendship in furnishing my destitute comrades clothing, bread, and medicine became known to the Mexican authorities, and he had to fly. He is a Corsican by birth, deserves the lasting gratitude of Texians, and the good-will of all just men.