“What cause have we to build on length of life:
Temptations seize when fear is laid asleep;
And ill-foreboded is our strongest guard.”

Young.

St. ’s dawn was welcomed by joyous peals from the church-bells, and the occasional firing of a few muskets, by way of accompaniment. The sun rose with a brilliance which would have awakened deep tones in Memnon’s statue, and gilded mountain and valley. Beautiful beyond description the city looked in his golden light, and

“All nature seemed rejoicing.”

Half hid by a majestic live-oak which shaded the front, and within a few yards of the river, stood a small white house. It was built of adoles, and contained only three rooms. Instead of reaching these by a broad flight, one step from the threshold placed you on the ground. The floor was uncovered, and, as usual, of cement. In one corner of the front apartment stood a sideboard, covered with glass of various kinds, and a few handsome pieces of plate. Its vis-a-vis was a range of shelves, filled with books; and on the plain deal mantelpiece stood a pair of neat China vases, decked with brilliant prairie flowers. Before the open window was placed the table, arranged for the morning meal. How pure the cloth looked, how clear the glass; and then the bouquet of fragrant roses which adorned the center, how homelike, fresh, and beautiful it seemed! An air of comfort American, southern comfort pervaded the whole. The breakfast was brought in by a middle-aged negress, whose tidy appearance, and honest, happy, smiling face presented the best refutation of the gross slanders of our northern brethren. I would that her daguerreotype, as she stood arranging the dishes, could be contrasted with those of the miserable, half-starved seamstresses of Boston and New York, who toil from dawn till dark, with aching head and throbbing heart, over some weary article, for which they receive the mighty recompense of a shilling.

When she had arranged every dish with great exactness, a small bell was rung; and, waiter in hand, she stood ready to attend the family.

A bright, young face appeared at the open window.

“I hope, Aunt Fanny, you have a nice breakfast. You have no idea what an appetite my walk has given me.”

“Now, Miss Mary, ain’t my cooking always nice?”

“Indeed, it is. Your coffee would not disgrace a pasha’s table; and your rolls are

‘The whitest, the lightest, that ever were seen.’”

She disappeared from the window, and entered the room just as Mr. Hamilton came in, followed by Florence.

“My dear uncle, have you forgotten the old adage of ’early to bed, and early to rise?’”

“I am not sure that I ever learned it, Mary;” he dryly replied, seating himself at the table.

“One would suppose you had taken a draught from the ‘Elixir of Life;’” said Florence, glancing affectionately at her beaming face.

“I have discovered the fountain of perpetual youth, so vainly sought in South America!”

“Indeed! Is it located in this vicinity?”

“Yes; and if you will rise to-morrow with Aurora, when ’she sprinkles with rosy light the dewy lawn,’ I will promise to conduct you to it.”

“Thank you; but, Mary, what induced you to ramble so early?”

“I have been nearly two miles for some roots Mrs. Carlton expressed a wish for. See, Florry, how I have dyed my hands pulling them up!”

“Were you alone, Mary?” asked Mr. Hamilton.

“I was, most of the time. As I came back, Dr. Bryant overtook me. He spent the night at San Jose mission, with a sick Mexican, and was returning. But where is Aunt Lizzy?” continued Mary, with an inquiring glance round the room.

“She went to mass this morning,” replied her cousin.

“Oh, yes! It is St. ’s day. I heard the bells at daybreak.”

“It is a savage, heathenish custom they have adopted here, of tearing up and down the streets from morning till night. I wish, by Jove! they would ride over their canting Padre! I think he would find some other mode of celebrating the festival!”

“He would lay claim to saintship on the strength of it,” replied Mary.

“You had better keep out of the street to-day, girls,” rejoined Mr. Hamilton, pushing his cup away, and rising from the table.

At this moment Aunt Lizzy entered; and after the morning salutation, turned toward the door.

“You are later than usual this morning, aunt. Do sit down and eat your breakfast, or it will be so cold you cannot touch it,” said Mary.

“No really devout Catholic tastes food on this holy day,” she answered, motioning it from her.

“It must be quite a penance to abstain, after your long walk,” said Mr. Hamilton with a smile.

“Father Mazzolin said, this morning, that all who kept this holy day would add a bright jewel to their crown, and obtain the eternal intercession of the blessed saint;” and she left the room.

“That falsehood adds another stone to the many that will sink him in the lake of perdition, if there be one!” muttered Mr. Hamilton, as he departed for the counting-room. The last few sentences had fallen unheeded on Florence’s ear, for she sat looking out the window, her thoughts evidently far away. But every trace of merriment vanished from Mary’s face, and instead of her bright smile, a look of painful anxiety settled there. A long silence ensued; Mary stood by the table, wiping the cups as Aunt Fanny rinsed them, and occasionally glancing at her cousin. At length she said,

“Florry, will you walk over to Mrs. Carlton’s with me? I promised to go, and the walk will do you good, for indeed your cheeks are paler than I like to see them.”

“Certainly, Mary, but do you remember what father said about our remaining at home, to-day?”

“There is no danger, Florry, if we only look about us, and I really must go.”

“Well then, let us start at once.”

In a few moments they set out, equipped in large straw hats, and equally large gloves; in addition, Mary carried in her hand a basket, filled with herbs and flowers.

“If we walk briskly, we shall get there before any of the riders set forth. Ah! I am mistaken, there they come. Florry, don’t go so near the street: that horseman in blue, looks as though he were riding on ice see how his horse slides about!”

A party of twenty or thirty thundered past, and the girls quickened their pace. A few minutes’ walk brought them to Mrs. Carlton’s door, which closed after them.

That lady was reading, as they entered, but threw aside her book, and advanced joyously to greet them. She kissed Mary affectionately, and cordially shook Florence’s hand.

“I am glad you came, Mary. I feared you would not, and really I want you very much.”

“What can I do, Mrs. Carlton?”

“You can take off your hat and gloves, and prepare yourselves to spend the day with me.”

They laughingly complied, protesting, however, that they could only remain a short time.

“Mary, my poor blind proselyte died yesterday, and bequeathed her orphan child to me: I feel almost obliged to accept the charge, for her fear lest it should fall into the Padre’s hands was painful to behold, and I promised to protect it if possible. The poor little fellow is nearly destitute of clothes; I have cut some for him, and knew you would assist me in making them.”

“With pleasure, dear Mrs. Carlton, and so will Florry; fill my basket with work, and we will soon have him a suit. Oh! how glad I am that he has such kind friends as yourself and husband.”

“The Padre came last night to demand the child, but we refused to give him up: he said he intended clothing and educating the boy free of charge; yet I knew better, for he refused to baptize Madame Berara’s orphan-niece without the customary fee, though he well knew she could ill afford it, and was compelled to sell her last cow to make up the requisite sum. I feel assured he will do all in his power to entice Erasmo from me; but hope, by constant watchfulness, to counteract his influence. Oh! Mary, how much we need a Protestant minister here: one who could effectually stem the tide of superstition and degradation that now flows unimpeded through this community. Oh! my dear friend, let us take courage, and go boldly forth in the cause of truth, and strive to awaken all from the lethargy into which they have fallen a lethargy for which their priests are alone responsible, for they administered the deadly drug.”

“I feel as deeply as yourself, dear Mrs. Carlton, the evil tendency and deplorable consequences of the institutions by which we are surrounded, and the little that I can do will be gladly, oh, how gladly! contributed to the work of reformation you have so nobly begun.”

“You forget, Mary, in your proselyting enthusiasm, that Aunt Lizzy belongs to the despised sect; surely you can not intend, by attacks on her religion, to render her home unpleasant?” said Florence.

Mary’s eyes filled with tears, as she glanced reproachfully at her cousin, and replied,

“Nothing is further from my wishes, Florry, than to make her home other than happy. Aunt Lizzy has every opportunity of informing herself on this important question. Yet she prefers the easier method, of committing her conscience to the care of the priest; she has chosen her path in life, and determinately closes her eyes to every other. The state of the Mexicans around us is by no means analogous. They were allowed no choice: bred from infancy in the Romish faith, they are totally unacquainted with the tenets of other creeds. Implicit obedience to the Padre is their primary law, the grand ruling principle of life, instilled from their birth. To lay before them the truths of our own ‘pure and undefiled religion,’ is both a privilege and duty.”

“You spoke just now, Miss Florence, of the ‘despised sect;’ allow me, in all modesty, to say, that to the true and earnest Christian there is no such class. Believe me, when I say, that though deeply commiserating their unhappy condition, and resolved to do all in my power to alleviate it, still I would as cheerfully assist the conscientious Papist, and tender him the hospitalities of my home, as one of my own belief.”

“You have expressed my feelings exactly, Mrs. Carlton, and there are times when I wish myself a missionary, that I might carry light to this benighted race,” exclaimed Mary, enthusiastically.

“We are very apt, my dear child, to consider ourselves equal to emergencies, and capable of great actions, when a strict examination would declare that the minor deeds and petty trials which test the temper and the strength too often destroy our equanimity, and show our inability to cope with difficulties. Woman’s warfare is with little things, yet we are assured by the greatest of all female writers, that ‘trifles make the sum of human things;’ therefore, let us strive more and more earnestly to obtain perfect control of ourselves; then shall we be enabled to assist others.”

“I often think,” replied Mary, thoughtfully, “that we make great sacrifices with comparative ease, because we feel our own insufficiency, and rely more on God for assistance; while in lesser troubles we are so confident of success, that we neglect to ask his blessing, and consequently fail in our unaided attempts.”

“You are right, Mary, and it should teach us to distrust our powers, and lead us to lean upon ’Him, who is a very precious help in time of need.’”

A long silence ensued, broken at length by the entrance of Mrs. Carlton’s two children, who carried a large basket between them. Hastily they set it down, on seeing Mary, and sprung to her side: the little girl clung around her neck, and kissed her repeatedly.

“Maria, you are too boisterous, my little girl; Miss Mary will have no cause to doubt your affection. Elliot, why do you not speak to Miss Florence, my son?”

Blushing at his oversight, the boy obeyed, and, joined by his sister, stood at his mother’s side. Maria whispered something in his ear, but he only shook his head and replied,

“Not now, sister, let us wait.”

She hesitated a moment, then laid her little hand on Mrs. Carlton’s shoulder.

“Mother, I know you said it was rude to whisper in company, but I want to tell you something very much.”

Mrs. Carlton smiled.

“I am sure the young ladies will excuse you, my daughter, if it is important.” She bent her head, and a prolonged whispering followed. A flush rose to the mother’s cheek and a tear to her eyes, as she clasped her to her heart, and said,

“I wish you, my children, to speak out, and tell all you know of this affair.”

Elliot was spokesman.

“We went into the garden as you desired us, mother, and Erasmo and I picked the peas, while sister held the basket; presently we heard a noise in the brush fence like something coming through, and sister got frightened (here he laughed), and wanted to run to the house, but we told her it was only a sheep or dog outside; but it turned out to be the Padre, and he came and helped us to pick. Mother, he told us such pretty stories; I can’t think of the names; they must have been Dutch, they were so long and hard. But I remember one of the tales; he said there was once a good man who lived in Asia, and one day he lost his crucifix; he looked everywhere for it, but could not find it; and a long time afterward, he happened to be walking by the sea-shore and looked out on the water, and oh, what do you think! He saw his crucifix moving on the water, and a great crab paddled out to land and laid his crucifix down before him, and then paddled right back into the sea again. Now wasn’t that funny. I can’t think of the good man’s name, Saint Somebody Saint Saint

“Brother, I reckon it was Saint Crab!”

“No, no! It was the crab that found the crucifix, and I think he was smarter than the saint.”

“Now, Florry, should I repeat this legend to Aunt Lizzy, it would be impossible to convince her that it proceeded from the Padre’s lips. Yet even prelates of Rome scruple not to narrate as miracles tales equally absurd, where their auditory is sufficiently ignorant to credit them. Pardon my interruption, Elliot, and finish your story,” continued Mary.

“Mother, the Padre talked to Erasmo in Spanish. I could not understand all he said, but it was about coming to live with him, and going to Mexico, to see the sights there. When he came to the rows you left for seed, I told him we must come to the house, and asked him to come in; but he would not, and offered us all some money, and said we must not tell a soul we had seen him, for he happened to see us through the fence, and just came in to speak to us, and you and father might think he ought not to come into our garden. But oh, mother, would you believe it! he told Erasmo, as he went off, that he must ask you to let him go to bathe to-morrow; and instead of going to the river, he must come to the church: he wanted to give him something. He told him in Spanish, but I understood what he said. Now, wasn’t that teaching him to tell a lie? and he a Padre too! Mother, don’t you think he ought to be ashamed?”

“Elliot, if you would gladden the hearts of your father and mother, be ever truthful. Remember the story of ‘Pedro and Francisco’ you read not long ago, and put dishonesty and dissimulation far from you: ‘honesty is the best policy,’ and if you adhere to it through life, it will prove of ‘far more worth than gold.’ Be sure you keep nothing from me, particularly what the Padre may say.”

“Shall we take the peas out under the hackberry and shell them,” said Maria.

“Yes, my dear, but first tell me where Erasmo is.”

“Sitting on the steps, mother. I know he will help us to shell them, for he said it was mere fun, picking peas.”

“Say nothing to him of the Padre or his conversation, but interest him about other things.”

They left the room swinging the basket between them. Mrs. Carlton’s eyes filled as she looked after her children. “A mother’s care can do a great deal, yet how little did I imagine that temptation would assail them at such a time, and in such a garb.”

“Oh, guard them carefully; for, surrounded by these influences, it will be difficult to prevent contamination,” said Mary, earnestly.

Just then a long, loud shout from the street attracted their attention, and hastening to the door, they perceived a crowd gathered on the Plaza. In the center was a body of Mexican cavalry, headed by their commanding officer, who, hat in hand, was haranguing them. The ladies looked at each other in dismay.

“To what does this tend?” asked Mary, anxiously.

“My husband told me several days since that Austin was imprisoned in Mexico, and said he feared difficulties would ensue, but knew not the cause of his confinement.”

“There is Dr. Bryant coming toward us; I dare say he can tell us the meaning of this commotion.”

That gentleman, bowing low in the saddle, reined his Steed as near the step as possible.

“How do you do, Miss Hamilton, and you, my dear sister? I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Mary in her morning rambles; she is a most remarkable young lady. Assures me she actually loves early rising.” His dark eyes were fixed laughingly upon her.

“Do stop your nonsense, Frank, and tell us the cause of that crowd,” said Mrs. Carlton, laying her hand on his arm.

“My dear sister, that tall, cadaverous-looking cavalier is the brother-in-law of Santa Anna, and no less a personage than General Cos, sent hither to fortify this and every other susceptible place.”

“Against whom or what?”

“It is a long story, ladies. You know that Coahuila has pursued an oppressive policy toward us for some time, and refused to hear reason: Austin remonstrated again and again, and at last went to Mexico, hoping that the authorities would allow us (here he bit his lip, and his cheek flushed) it galls my spirit to utter the word allow us to form a separate State. The Congress there took no notice of his petition, for, in truth they were too much engaged just then about their own affairs to heed him, and he wrote to several persons in Austin, advising them at all hazards to proceed. Some cowardly wretch, or spy in disguise, secretly despatched one of his letters to the ministers; consequently, as Austin was returning, they made him prisoner, and carried him back to Mexico. Santa Anna is at the head of affairs. He has subverted the too liberal constitution of 1824, but is opposed by a few brave hearts, who scorn the servitude in store for them. Santa Anna knows full well that we will not submit to his crushing yoke, and therefore sends General Cos to fortify the Alamo. This is the only definite information I have been able to glean from several sources.”

“Do you think there is probability of a war?”

“It will most inevitably ensue, for total submission will be exacted by Santa Anna, and the Texans are not a people to comply with any such conditions.”

“You think General Cos is here to fortify the Alamo?”

“Yes; the work commences to-morrow, I hear, and the fort will be garrisoned by Spanish troops.”

“How many has he with him?” inquired his sister.

“Only fifty or sixty; this is merely the advanced guard, the main body will probably arrive in a few days.”

“I suppose they are joyously welcomed by the Mexicans here, who have ever regarded with jealous eyes Protestant settlers.”

“Oh, yes, that shout testified the hearty welcome they received.”

At this moment Mr. Hamilton joined the group.

“Have you heard the news?” he inquired.

“Yes, and sad enough it is,” said Mary, with a sigh.

“It will be a bloody conflict.”

“I am afraid so,” replied Dr. Bryant.

“Come, girls, I am going home, will you go now?”

Mary took her basket, which Mrs. Carlton had filled with work, and they descended the steps.

“I declare, Miss Irving, I have a great desire to know what that basket contains; it is as inseparably your companion as was the tub of Diogenes. I often see it round a corner before you are visible, and at the glimpse of it, invariably sit more erect in saddle, and assume my most amiable expression.”

He raised himself, and peeped inquiringly over the edge; Mary swung it playfully behind her.

“I never gratify idle curiosity, Dr. Bryant.”

“Indeed, how very remarkable; but I assure you I know full well the use to which those same herbs you had this morning are to be applied; you are amalgamating nauseous drugs, and certain pills, to be administered to my patients. I am grieved to think you would alienate what few friends I have here, by raising yourself up as a competitor. Pray, where did you receive your diploma? and are you Thomsonian, Allopathic, Homeopathic, or Hydropathic?”

Mary looked at Mrs. Carlton: both smiled.

“Ah! I see Ellen is associated with you. Do admit me to partnership; I should be a most valuable acquisition, take my word for it. A more humble-minded, good-hearted, deeply-read, and experienced disciple of Esculapius never felt pulse, or administered a potion.”

They laughed outright.

“Mary, shall we tell Frank what we intend those herbs for?”

“By no means, he does not deserve to know.”

“Ah! I see Terence was right after all, in his opinion of woman’s nature ’When you request, they refuse; when you forbid, they are sure to do it.’”

“Come, girls, come! I have business at home;” said Mr. Hamilton, and they set out homeward. They had not proceeded far, when Mary exclaimed, pointing behind her,

“Oh, uncle, that woman will be killed! Can nobody help her?”

“She will certainly be thrown from her horse!”

A party of five or six Mexicans were riding with their usual rapidity toward them. An elderly woman in the rear had evidently lost control of her fiery horse, which was plunging violently. The other members of the company seemed unable to render any assistance, as their own could scarcely be restrained. The unfortunate Senora was almost paralyzed with fright; for instead of checking him by the reins, they had fallen over his head, become entangled in his feet, and, now grasping the mane, she was shrieking fearfully.

“Oh, can’t we do something for her!” cried Mary, clasping her hands.

“I do not see how we can assist her,” said Mr. Hamilton.

“At least, let us try;” and they hastened to the spot where the infuriated animal was struggling.

“Stand back, girls! you can do nothing.”

He made several ineffectual attempts to catch the bridle, as the forefeet rose in air, and at last succeeded in getting one end. He bade the woman let go the mane, and slide off. She did so, but some portion of her dress was caught in the saddle, and she hung suspended. The horse feeling the movement, again plunged, despite Mr. Hamilton’s efforts to hold him down. The scene was distressing indeed, as she was raised and then, flung down again.

Mary saw the danger, and rushing round the enraged horse, fearlessly pushed off the piece which was attached to the pommel of the saddle, and freed the unfortunate matron. The horse, feeling relieved of his burden, gave a desperate bound, and rushed off down the street.

Florence shrieked, and sprung to her father’s side. Mary was bending over the moaning woman, but turned suddenly, and saw her uncle stretched at Florence’s feet. He was insensible, and a stream of blood oozed from his lips. They raised his head, and motioned to the Mexicans, that now gathered round, for water; some was hastily procured, and then Mary entreated one of them to go for Dr. Bryant: as she spoke, the tramp of hoofs caused her to look up, and she perceived him urging his horse toward them. He flung the reins to a man who stood near, and bent over the prostrate form.

“There is some internal injury, I see no outward wound; how did this happen?”

Florence briefly explained the manner in which her father received a kick on the chest. Happily, they were near their own home, and, with the assistance of two men, Dr. Bryant carefully bore him in, and laid him on a couch near the open window. A restorative was administered, and soon the sufferer opened his eyes. The flow of blood had ceased, but he lay quite exhausted.

The physician examined the wounded place, and assured Florence there was no fracture.

“I am afraid some blood-vessel is ruptured?” said she, anxiously.

“It is only a small one, I hope, but cannot tell certainly for several days. He must be perfectly quiet; the least excitement might prove fatal, by causing a fresh hemorrhage.”

Nearly a week passed, and one evening Mary followed the physician as he left the house: he heard her step, and turned. His usually laughing countenance was grave and anxious; but he strove to seem cheerful.

“Doctor, I wish to know what you think of my uncle’s case; we are afraid it is more serious than you at first pronounced it?”

“It is better that you should know the worst. I am pained to grieve you, but candor compels me to say, that a fatal injury has been inflicted. I hoped for the best, but an examination this evening confirmed my fears.”

Mary sobbed bitterly and long. Dr. Bryant sought not to comfort her by exciting false hopes, but paced up and down the gravel-walk beside her.

“You do not fear a rapid termination of the disorder?” she said at last, in a low, trembling tone.

“He may linger some days, but I do not think it probable that he will.”

“Florry, Florry! what is to become of us?” cried the weeping girl, in a voice of agony. “Oh, God! spare him to us!”

“Do you think your cousin comprehends her father’s danger?”

“She fears the worst, and requested me this evening to ask your opinion. Oh, how can I tell her that he must die!”

“Do not crush all hope (though I have none); let her believe that he may recover. She is not of a temperament to bear prolonged agony. The shock will be less painful, rest assured. Believe me, I deeply sympathize with you both.” And pressing her hand, he withdrew.