“Strategic movements on the part of Davis and Hamilton have filled up the time. Between these two men there can be no comparison. * * *
“On last Friday night the cloud burst, and for a few moments the curse of heaven seemed to hang as a pillar of flame over the convention hall.
“Stern as Davis is, he quivered when Mills of El Paso tore from his bosom the thin gauze with which he hoped to hide the dark, selfish and damning purposes of his heart. Yes, he quivered, but it was for a while only. The devil never deserts his own for a long time at once. Davis rallied and poured the long pent-up passion of his heart upon Mills. Confusion ensued. The issue was now made. Davis was right and Mills very wrong, or Davis was wrong and Mills the Nemesis of the night. A majority of the convention agreed with Mills. But Davis has his tools. The convention had one more than a quorum. This quorum must be broken or Davis meets a Waterloo defeat. Two of Davis’ tools resigned their seats then and there. Thus was a quorum, under the standing rules, broken, and fortune for a while declared for Davis.
“But Hamilton was not thus to be defeated. He brought all his forces up against the political traitors, raised a point of order as to whether a quorum consisted of a majority of ninety members, which the convention ought to have had, had every delegate been in his seat, or of a majority of those who, at that time, were entitled to seats. Plausibility and common sense were on Hamilton’s side. Davis’ wrath was terrible. Mills must be punished. The convention could not see it through his spectacles, and he ordered the sergeant-at-arms to take Mills in custody. It was a wordy order. Davis, seeing his inevitable defeat, on his own motion, declared that the convention, as no quorum was present, stood adjourned till next day at 10 o’clock, and, with the mien of a lieutenant of his satanic majesty, left the rostrum.
“Before he had gotten half way down the aisle, Armstrong of Lamar had been elected president. Davis ordered the doorkeeper to open the doors so that members could go out. The doorkeeper refused.
“Then ensued a scene which cannot be described. Hamilton arose and spoke under all the excitement of the evening—spoke as only those can speak who are orators born—spoke until, if I had been in Davis’ place, I would have prayed that the capitol might crush upon me and hide my awful shame.”
The constitution was then adopted as a whole and this revolutionary attempt to break up the convention and prevent the reconstruction of the State and her readmission into the Union met a humiliating defeat.
The good General Canby, being then in command of the Department, approved of our course of action and submitted the constitution to the people.
Three days later, February 8, 1869, at Austin, Texas, the writer married Mary, eldest daughter of Governor A. J. Hamilton, who in this year of Grace 1900, still abides with him; but that is “another story,” which he reserves for a later chapter.
