mself a despot. Ambition hurled him from the throne of the
Montezumas, and laid his proud head low. A new star rose on the stormy
horizon of the west; pure and softly fell the rays on the troubled
thousands round. The voice of the new-comer said "Peace," and the wild
tumult subsided. Ten years passed; Santa Anna culminated. The gentle
tones of the arch-deceiver were metamorphosed into the tiger's growl,
the constitution of 1824 subverted in a day, and he ruled in the room
of the lost Iturbide.

* * * * *

The Alamo was garrisoned. Dark bodies of Mexican troops moved heavily
to and fro, and cannon bristled from the embrasures. The usually quiet
town was metamorphosed into a scene of riot and clamor, and fandangos,
at which Bacchus rather than Terpsichore presided, often welcomed the
new-born day. The few Americans[A] in San Antonio viewed with darkened
brows the insolent cavaliers. The gauntlet was flung down--there
was no retraction, no retreat. They knew that it was so, and girded
themselves for a desperate conflict.

[Footnote [A]: It doubtless appears absurd to confine the title of
"Americans" to the few citizens of the United States who emigrated to
Texas, when all who inhabit the continent are equally entitled to the
appellation. Yet the distinction is Mexican; "Los Americanos" being
the name applied to all who are not of Spanish descent.]

The declaration of independence was enthusiastically hailed by the
brave-hearted Texans, as they sprang with one impulse to support the
new-born banner, that floated so majestically over the sunny prairies
of their western home. Mechanic, statesman, plowboy, poet, pressed
forward to the ranks, emulous of priority alone. A small, but intrepid
band, they defied the tyrant who had subverted the liberties of his
country; defied Santa Anna and his fierce legions, and spurned the
iron yoke which the priests of Mexico vainly strove to plant upon
their necks. Liberty, civil and religious, was the watchword, and
desperately they must struggle in the coming strife.

Manuel Nevarro had eagerly enlisted in the Mexican ranks, and in a
few weeks after General Cos's arrival, donned his uniform. Thus
accoutered, he presented himself, for the first time since their
disagreement, before Inez, who had but recently returned from San
Jose, doubting not that her admiration of his new dress would extend
to him who filled it. In truth, his was a fine form and handsome face;
yet sordid selfishness