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"At nine o'clock the Alamo had fallen. Not one of its defenders was alive. It seemed to me that the fighting lasted days instead of only a few hours.

"The Mexicans spared all of us women and the children in the fort. The survivors were Mrs. Dickenson and her child; Mrs. Alsbury, a niece and adopted daughter of Governor Veramendi, and her little sister, who had gone to the Alamo with Colonel Bowie, their brother-in-law; a negro boy, servant of Colonel Travis, and myself. They all died long, long ago, and poor old Senora Candelaria cannot live much longer.

"After the fighting was ended, five men who had hidden themselves were found by the victors. By this time Santa Anna had left his shelter and come to the shattered fort. The five men were brought before him. A kind officer asked that they be kept prisoners, but Santa Anna laughed and ordered his soldiers to kill the men with their bayonets.

"Then, by order of Santa Anna, the bodies of all the dead Texans were piled in a heap with brush and wood and burned. That was the end of the heroes of that great struggle. Is it any wonder that the old senora's thin blood runs a little faster whenever she hears 'Remember the Alamo?" יי

Senora Candelaria did not tell the story as connectedly as it is here set down. She was very feeble then, but possibly realizing that her end was near she threw all of the fire left in her worn old brain into the telling. Sitting in the sunshine in sight of the Alamo she loved so much, she unfolded the narrative slowly, with frequent intervals for rest. She spoke mostly in Spanish, with occasionally a sentence in broken English. Her voice had

Like a Ghost of the
Past, The Seeress

of Slaughter.

lost its force, but her hands had not. Her gestures were eloquent. Much of the story was told by gestures, for which words have been supplied.

Apart from her wonderful experience in the Alamo, Senor Candelaria's life was full of incident. She was born amid turmoil. Her parents, Don Jose Antonio and Senora Castanon, led a party of settlers along the Rio Grande in 1785. They halted for a night on the bank of the river where Laredo now stands. That night they were attacked by Indians. During the panic which ensued, while the settlers were shouting, clapping their hands and swaying the bushes in order to lead the savages astray as to their number, the future Madame Candelaria was born. After soldiers from Rio Grande had driven the Indians away, the settlers returned and founded the town of Laredo. There the battle-born Mexican child grew to womanhood, noted for her beauty. When she was eighteen she married and moved to San Antonio. Her first husband was killed by Indians while on a surveying expedition. She married again, and her second husband met an equally violent death. She had three sons, only one of whom lived to manhood.

The State of Texas long ago voted her a small pension, and she lived in a little cottage near the Alamo. Toward the end she grew blind, and tottered the last few steps of her long road to the grave in darkness. Texas will see that her memory is kept green.

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DECATUR, THE YANKEE TAR.

BY COLVILLE BALDWIN.

T was a bright, cool morning in October, 1812, that the great fight between the American frigate, the "United States," commanded by the immortal Decatur, whose fame is the common heritage of the American people, North and South alike, and the British frigate "Macedonian," commanded by Captain Carden, took place.

As an illustration of the grand fighting qualities that belong to the American Navy, it deserves a place even above that which would naturally be given it as a story of mere heroic achievement. Without courage man is a poor thing. The coward is everywhere and universally despised. And yet courage is a quality found with almost every people, in differing forms and degrees.

There is a courage of brutality which has won many battles, oftener on the wrong than the right side. It is based upon a cruel instinct for blood, a fierce, wild impulse to conquer and hold others in subjection, and an utter disregard of all chivalric considerations.

Good.

There is, again, a courage that is born of a devotion to a noble cause, as, for instance, when it springs from so great a love for liberty for all mankind that its possessor willingly dares the worst that may befall man, and cheerfully sacrifices not only life, but his Courage Belongs own freedom, that others may enjoy that which he sets above all other earthly blessings. This courage can only be found in the loftiest, noblest spirit. It cannot exist in the vulgar, commonplace man. It flourishes by the side of the sweeter attributes of that type of human nature nearest akin to the divine. The man who has it is sympathetic, tender toward misfortune, unselfish in impulse, even to the utmost of personal sacrifice, scorning that which is low and unworthy, yielding to the

L

leadings of the heart even after bitter experiences which in another would chill the confidence of man in his fellow-man. Our own American poet has sung of the men who have this heaven-inspired courage :

"The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring."

In these two lines he paints the composite picture of the long list of heroes whose exploits crowd the pages of American history.

And of these, no man was more deservedly conspicuous, no man more universally loved, no man more distinguished for the possession of the characteristics of the highest type of manhood, than Commodore Stephen Decatur.

He was born at Sinnepuxent, Md., January 5, 1779, and was the son of Captain Stephen Decatur, also for many years an officer of the United States Navy. The younger Stephen, the subject of our sketch, entered the service in 1798 as a midshipman, and so efficient was he that a year later he was promoted lieutenant. It is a coincidence that before joining the navy he was employed, at the age of seventeen, to superintend the getting out of the keel pieces for the frigate "United States," that he was in that vessel when she was launched, was assigned to her as midshipman when he first entered the service, and afterward as lieutenant, subsequently commanded her as captain, as well as when she served as flag-ship of one of the squadrons of which he was commodore, and in her fought one of the most brilliant battles history records. She seems to have been a favorite with him, and right staunchly did she respond to every demand her great commander made upon her.

From the beginning of his career, Decatur manifested those heroic impulses which have made his name and fame an imperishable ornament to the history of our navy-a matter of undying pride to every true American. As a youth it was said of him that he was possessed of an uncommon character, was an officer of rare promise, "one not equaled in a million." While still a midshipman, serving on board the "United States," he was on deck one day when, in the midst of a howling tempest, the ship rang with the cry, "Man overboard!" and the boats were lowered away.

"Without hesitation," says the historian, "Decatur sprang from the mizzen-chains, and in a few moments his muscular arins were holding the drowning man above the waves, which he continued to do until the boats reached the spot, when he passed the nearly dying youth into one of them, and then climbed in him

Risks His Life to
Save Another.

self. It is of such men that heroes are made, and the one that Decatur saved, while himself gaining celebrity, lived to see his preserver attain a fame unsurpassed oy that of any officer of his time in the American Navy." Decatur served as lieutenant under Commodore Barry, on the West India Station, and in 1801 joined the frigate "Essex," and was sent to the Mediterranean, under Commodore Dale, in consequence of the hostilities with Tripoli. Here he afterwards served under Captain James Barron, as first lieutenant of the frigate "New York," and distinguished himself on every opportunity. At Malta he was second to an American ensign, Joseph Bainbridge, who fought a duel with a British officer who lost his life in the affair. In 1803 Commodore Preble was sent to take charge of the squadron, which had been greatly strengthened, and Decatur was placed in command, first of the brig " Argus," and subsequently the "Enterprise."

It was at this time that he gained great renown by recapturing and burning the frigate "Philadelphia," an American ship, which had fallen into the hands of the enemy. She was lying in the harbor of Tripoli, surrounded by other Tripolitan warships, and under protection of shore batteries and forts. Selecting a crew of seventy men and thirteen officers, he placed them on board a captured Tripolitan vessel called the "Intrepid," and boldly sailed into the port on the night of February 15, 1804. He had a Greek pilot, and under the pretense of a vessel in distress, got alongside the "Philadelphia" before his true character was detected. Followed by his men, he sprang on board the doomed ship, and, after a fierce fight, obtained possession of and destroyed her by burning, having only one man wounded, and he but slightly, while the enemy suffered severely. This feat was pronounced by Admiral Nelson "the most daring act of the age," and in recognition of his courage and skill Decatur was at once commissioned a full captain, and a sword was voted him by Congress, he being then only twenty-five years of age. His gallant crew was also handsomely rewarded.

One of the Most Daring Acts of History.

The remarkable career of this brave man cannot, however, be followed minutely in the limits of this article. During the subsequent hostilities with Tripoli, he continued to distinguish himself. In August, 1804, having three Neapolitan gun-boats under his command, he participated in an attack upon the enemy's flotilla of gun-boats, which were lying under the guns of the shore batteries and a formidably armed brig. Each of his boats singled out and boarded an antagonist, and, after desperate hand-to-hand conflicts with sword and pistol, overpowered them. Decatur captured a vessel, and, taking her in tow, went after a second. On boarding her, he engaged in a personal and most desperate struggle with her commander, who, after pretending to surrender to Lieutenant James Decatur, our hero's brother, had treacherously assassinated him. After a few moments of fierce fighting, Decatur killed his opponent and held the vessel. In this action, Decatur lost only fourteen killed and wounded, while the enemy's loss amounted to fifty-two, out of eighty.

When the war of 1812 broke out, Captain Decatur was placed in command of a squadron, with his old friend, the "United States," carrying fortyfour guns, for a flag-ship, and it was on the twenty-fifth of October that he met and captured the "Macedonian," as we are about to describe.

Captain John Carden, of the Royal Navy, who was in command of the "Macedonian," was one of the ablest and most famous of the officers of the British Navy, conspicuous no less for his skill than daring and tenacious bravery. He and Decatur had become acquainted prior to the war, and had learned to esteem each other most highly. When the two vessels came near enough to each other to be recognized, each commander felt at once that he had met his peer, and that the fight to follow would be a duel to the death.

The "Macedonian " was an entirely new ship, having just been built and equipped at the Portsmouth navy-yard, whence she had sailed only two weeks previous. She mounted forty guns, consisting of thirty-eight carronades, a pivot-gun on the forecastle, and a smaller piece on the quarter-deck. She had 300 men aboard, a selected crew, all but twenty of whom were veteran and well-trained man-of-war's men.

A Memorable
Sea Fight.

The fight took place off the Azores, about two hundred miles distant in a southwesterly direction. As has been said, the morning was bright and cool. The sea was fair, with a heavy swell running. The captain of the "Macedonian," evidently not anticipating a call from his old friend, had concluded that for that day his men should enjoy a much-needed relaxation from the rigorous routine of drill and hard labor incident to life on a man-of-war, and especially severe on board the "Macedonian," a new ship to which everybody was strange. He therefore gave orders that the members of the crew should be permitted to engage in sports and amuse themselves in such way as they chose, and, by his direction, they were given an extra allowance of grog.

All went merrily for an hour or two. The men, released from the toilsome duties which for weeks had pressed upon them to the entire exclusion of everything like pleasure, entered upon the enjoyment of the occasion with the keenest zest. Fiddles were produced, and while in one part of the ship the nimble-footed tars were showing off their fancy steps in hornpipes and jigs, in another, groups surrounded the singers, who, to the accompaniment of wheezy instruments, sang the rhymed legends of the glorious deeds of valor performed by the British hearts of oak. Apart from these sat the veteran salt, spinning the endless yarns of strange and moving incidents

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