The Adventures of Two Alabama Boys

by H. J. Crumpton; Washington Bryan Crumpton

THE ALAMO

"If deeds of daring sanctify the soil that witnessed them, that should be to every American, one of the sacred places of the land. We soon alighted in front of the old church and entered its broad portal. A hundred and seventy-five years have elapsed since its foundations were begun. Its early history would be filled with the interest of tradition were it not for the fact that one glorious deed of sacrifice dwarfs all that went before. Here on March 6, 1836, one hundred and eighty-one citizen soldiers, untrained to war, fought more than twenty times their number and scorning retreat deliberately chose to die. The fight began February 23rd, when the Mexican army under Santa Anna began the assault. The attack was continued day and night, and each time the Mexican column was hurled back with frightful loss. Each day witnessed supreme examples of heroism on the part of the beleaguered men. One of the most inspiring of them was the sacrifice of James Butler Bonham, a native of South Carolina, and the friend of Col. Travis, who commanded the Alamo forces. He had been sent to Fannin with appeals for aid, which were unavailing. On March 2nd, he reached, on his return, a hill overlooking the scene of the seige, accompanied by two companions. Realizing the situation, these associates saw no necessity for further progress and demanded of Bonham that they retire. The reply of Bonham immortalized him. He said: "I will report the result of my mission to Colonel Travis.

HE EXPECTS IT OF ME.

I have to tell him there is no prospect of reinforcements, that he has but to die in defending his cause and that I came to die with him." Then bidding farewell to his companions, mounted on a cream colored horse, through the lines of the enemy and amid showers of bullets, this gallant son of South Carolina rode to his death. The gates of the fortress opened to receive him and he presented himself to his chief. This is the noblest incident in history of stern adherence to solemn duty without regard to personal danger. On the morning of March 6th, a general assault took place. Slowly the noble Texans were driven back until inside the church they made their last stand. No quarter was asked, none granted. Each Texan died desperately in hand-to-hand conflict with overpowering numbers. Col. Jas. Bowie, sick and unable to rise, was bayoneted in bed. Col. David Crocket died amid a circle of slaughtered foes. Travis fell upon the wall when he was giving inspiration to his men. When the last Texan died, the floor was nearly ankle deep in blood and ghastly corpses were heaped everywhere. By order of Santa Anna, the bodies were piled in heaps and burned. On the monument to these immortal dead, Texas writes an inscription so great it makes the heart stand still: "Thermopylae had its messenger of defeat—the Alamo had none."

"I am sorry for you for

THE NEXT TWO DAYS. "IT IS THE DRIEST, DULLEST RIDE I EVER TOOK."

A lady, with whom I became acquainted said that to me on quitting the train at San Antonio. Folks are so unlike. What was to her dull and uninteresting, I found to be of the greatest interest to me. True there were not many people to be seen, but the boundless prairies with here and there herds of cattle or horses grazing and occasionally a Greaser village with mountains now and then appearing in the distance, had a charm about it for me which I have never experienced before.

OUT IN THE BOUNDLESS PRAIRIE.

Mesquite bushes cover thinly the land and remind one constantly of an old neglected orchard where the sprouts have been allowed to grow up from the roots of the trees. The railroad has a four-wire fence on each side of the track, which gives the land the appearance of being fenced and you are all the time on the lookout for the farm house, just beyond the orchard, but it never appears. Occasionally right in the midst of the Mesquite you see a forty or eighty acre tract broken in a square, showing the soil as black as one's hat. Occasionally is seen a cotton field, but the crop failed because of the drought. All the laborers on the railroad seem to be Mexicans and I learn they give general satisfaction, but my! what shabby hovels they live in! Sometimes only straw or brush covered with straw, but more frequently built of "doby," sun dried brick. As we near the Texas border, the soil becomes thinner and more rocky. We pass towns with no sign of gardens or orchards.