We do not give this as a fact, for there is nothing certain respecting the designs of the Mexicans in changing the order of battle, and this movement, if begun, was so quickly checked that it could not have been fully detected by Gen, Taylor. The weary night wore away-the gallant Ringgold lay dying-Page, speechless and faint-and scores of our brave men stretched on the field of their fame, wounded or dying, while hundreds of the enemy made the night hideous with their cries and groans. That was an anxious night for the brave Taylor. He had advanced to within a short distance of the fort, and found the enemy strong, and resolved to dispute his entrance. He had fought one battle, lost one of the most efficient officers in the army, and was far from reinforcements, and without a protecting breast-work, while the enemy were in reach of help from Matamoras, and could choose their position at leisure. With 2,000 men he had beat 6,000, and killed and wounded nearly 800; but he knew that loss would be more than made up before morning by reinforcements. In this trying position, he called a council of war composed of thirteen officers, and asked them what he should do. Four only out of the whole were in favor of advancing the remainder advised either to intrench where they were, or retreat to Point Isabel, and wait for reinforcements. When all had spoken, the brave old veteran exclaimed: "I will be at Fort Brown before night, if I live," Noble words that deserve to be written in letters of gold. That feeble garrison, which had for a whole week so firmly withstood the close siege of the enemy, lay on his brave heart, and he resolved to succor it or fall in the attempt. There spoke out the spirit of the true hero-the same that on the heights of Bennington, exclaimed, as the sword pointed to the enemy moving to battle, "Those red coats, men, before night they are ours, or Mary Stark's a widow," the same that uttered in the very blaze of the hotlyworked battery at Lundy's Lane, "I'll try, sir," the same that on the rending decks of the Chesapeake, faintly murmured, "Don't give up the ship." It was a noble resolution to save that garrison or leave his body at the foot of the walls, and right nobly was it carried out.

The next day the army recommenced its march, and found the enemy gone leaving his dead unburied. The number of bodies lying around the spots where

the artillery was posted, showed how terrible the fire of our guns had been, and with what steadiness and bravery the Mexicans had stood to their pieces. In one place, fifty-seven bodies were found in a heap, or about the entire number of killed and wounded together on our side.

Gen. Taylor soon came up with the enemy, occupying a strong position on the farther side of a ravine, and resting his left on a pond so as to prevent the possibility of being outflanked on that side. Eight pieces of artillery defended this position, divided into three portions -one on the left side of the road, one on the right, and one in the centre. It was evident from the outset, that the great struggle was to be along the road where the batteries were placed, protected by a ditch and breastwork in front. Reinforcements of 2,000 men had arrived during the night, and here, within three miles of the fort, the BATTLE OF RESACA DE LA PALMA was fought. The victory of the day before and the recital of the gallant deeds at night, had filled every bosom with a fierce desire to perform some brave act, and the troops defiled past the wagons and deployed in front of the enemy, with an alacrity and ardor which showed that wild work would be done before night should close over the scene. Scarcely were our troops in order of battle, before the artillery of the enemy opened and rained a perfect shower of balls on our ranks. The road was swept at every discharge with grape shot and balls that threatened to carry entirely away the daring squadron which should presume to advance along it. To the left of the road, the conflict at once became fierce and bloody. The 4th, 5th and 8th Infantry, and a part of the 3d, were there mowing down the enemy with their steady volleys, strewing the road-side with the dead, and sternly forcing back the serried ranks, while the artillery kept thundering on with such rapid and ceaseless explosions that as the Mexican prisoners afterwards said, they thought we had fifty instead of eight cannon. Shells and shot drove so like a storm of sleet in their faces, that the officers vainly endeavored to throw the entire army forward in a desperate charge on our guns, but so certain and biting was the fire, that they could not be induced to move a step, and fell in their tracks. On the right, our men, advancing through the chapparal, had outflanked the enemy, and were pouring in

their well-directed volleys, while on the left, where the incessant flash of musketry, drowned now and then by the roar of cannon and shouts of the men, told how fierce was the conflict. Our troops were steadily gaining ground, but the murderous battery in the centre of the road continued to vomit forth death, and was worked with a coolness and held with a tenacity that perfectly maddened our men. Gen. Taylor was within its range, and when expostulated with for exposing himself so openly, refused to move out of the danger except by moving forward. The regiments got confused in the chapparal somewhat, but fought just as well; and though the infantry held their firm array, they seemed to fight in groups, each one directing its energies on a single point. The battery of the gallant Ridgely kept steadily advancing like a moving volcano, and hurled such a storm of iron on the guns that swept the road, that the infantry which protected them fell at every discharge like grass before the scythe. At length a body of lancers came charging furiously along the road, and rode up to the very muzzles of his guns. Scattering them like a whirlwind with a discharge from one of his pieces, he dashed in person among four that still kept hurrying on, and drove them before him.

The infantry fought with unparalleled bravery, led on by as brave officers as ever trod a battle-field. Indeed, every officer seemed to think it necessary he should show an example of daring to his men, while every soldier fought as if he would outdo his leader in heroic acts. Sometimes a few men, headed by an officer, would charge a gun and fight like desperadoes around it. In one instance a soldier leaped astride of a piece he had captured and boldly defended himself while his companions dragged him away with the prize. From the outset our army steadily advanced on every side, except along the road where the central battery was kept playing. At length, goaded to madness by the galling fire kept up from these few pieces, and seeing that the whole battle rested there, Gen. Taylor ordered Capt. May to charge the battery with his dragoons. His words were, "You must take it." The gallant May wheeled on his steed and said to his followers: "Men, we must take that battery" In a moment those eighty-two stern riders were moving in a dark mass along the road, headed by their fearless commander. The next moment the bu

gles sounded the charge, and the black and driving mass swept like a thunder cloud to the shock. A cloud of dust marked their progress as they rode sternly and fiercely on. The attention of nearly the whole army was directed to this desperate charge, and you could hear their muffled tread as they broke into a gallop and tore forward up to the very muzzles of the guns. Two rods in advance was seen the commanding form of May, as, mounted on his powerful charger, he rode fiercely on, with his long hair streaming in the wind, while behind shook the glittering sabres of his followers. One discharge tore through them, stretching nearly a third of his company and half of his horses on the ground, but when the smoke lifted there was still seen the war horse of May leaping the ditch, breast-work and all, pressed closely after by his remaining followers, riding down the artillery-men at their pieces, and passing straight through the Mexican lines. A wild hurrah went up from our entire army as they saw those fierce dragoons clear the breast-work. The 5th and 8th Infantry followed close after, charging at a run along the road, and swept over the breast-work just after the dragoons were compelled to leave it; and took possession of the guns. Lieut. Duncan then took command of the advance and soon cleared the road with his deadly artillery, while the infantry, packed now in the narrow road with a chapparal on each side, went pouring onward with furious shouts, driving the enemy before them. The battle then became a rout and rolled furiously towards the river, whither the affrighted Mexicans were flying to escape to Matamoras. The cavalry first went galloping like a crowd of fugitives to the ferry, while the infantry, forced from the chapparal at the point of the bayonet, followed after.

Ah! you should have heard the shout that then rose from the little garrison of Fort Brown. They had stood and listened, as the sound of the heavy cannonading of the first day's fight came riding by on the evening air-filled with the deepest anxiety as to the issue, for on the success of the army rested their own fate. It was with inexpressible joy they heard, next day at noon, the artillery again opened, and almost within sight of the ramparts. All the morning the guns of the enemy had been playing upon their intrenchments, and when at last the fierce firing began in the distance and the smoke of battle rose over the tree tops, telling

them that their companions were advancing to their relief, the excitement became intense. But the cannonading advanced steadily nearer, and the rapid volleys of musketry every moment grew clearer, saying in accents more thrilling than language, that our brave troops were victorious.

At length, when the cavalry, plunging wildly over the plain, emerged into view, they mounted the ramparts, and under the folds of their flag, that still floated proudly in the breeze, sent up a huzza that was heard even in Matamoras-the shout of victory.

That was a joyful meeting, when our wearied but victorious army, amid loud huzzas, marched again into Fort Brown, and into the arms of their brave companions. Three thousand five hundred shots had been fired into that single fort, and yet but two men had been killed.

Gen. Taylor's victory was complete. The Mexicans lost their whole artillery2,000 stand of arms-600 mules, together with Gen. Arista's private papers, and Gen. Vega himself, whom May made prisoner in his desperate charge on and over the battery. Our loss in killed, wounded and missing, in these two battles, was not far from 170; that of the enemy unknown, but it could not be much short of 1,200. The battle of the 9th was much the most severe, as is evident from the greater mortality that attended it-our loss being nearly double that on the day before. Gen. Taylor had thrown up hasty intrenchments around his train, which had been left on the first battle-field guarded by four hundred men; so that he brought but about 1,600 men into the fight, while the Mexicans, notwithstanding their severe loss, had received such heavy reinforcements that they showed a thousand stronger than in the previous engagement. That the Mexicans fought well is evident from their heavy loss-nearly one-third of their entire army disappeared from the ranks before it broke and fled. The great disproportion between the killed and wounded in the two armies was owing entirely to the greater precision of our fire, our soldiers having hit or killed each his man. Neither is this a new feature in our battles, for during our previous wars it was ascertained that, as a general rule, one out of every two hundred shots took effect, while in the European battles it is calculated that only one out of every four hundred hits-making a difference of just half, even with Continental troops.

The charge of May was one of the most gallant deeds among the hundred performed in these fierce fought battles, and decided the victory. Had he not succeeded, we should doubtless have gained the day; for, from the outset, our troops never once fell back or wavered, but steadily gained ground. The conflict, however, would have been protracted, and our loss much greater but for this successful charge. It is always desperate business charging artillery with cavalry, yet it is frequently done. The rapidity of its movements, and the want of close packed ranks to resist the shock, make it always successful, unless the artillery is well supported by firm infantry. Thus, at the battle of Aspern, Bessieres charged nearly four hundred cannon, placed in battery, with his heavy armed cuirassiers. The carnage of the volley that received them was awful; yet nothing saved the guns but hastily withdrawing them to the rear, so that instead of charging on cannon, when the smoke lifted, he found himself in presence of infantry, standing in squares, and presenting a girdle of steel to his squadrons. The Mexicans had not time to do this, for it was but a few moments after May emerged into view along the road, before he was among them with his shouting riders. This charge was the more desperate from being made with so few men. When four or eight thousand cavalry gallop into the blaze of artillery the front ranks furnish a wall for those behind; and before a second discharge can mow them down they are amid the guns, or breast to breast with infantry; but when such a small squadron charges almost every man in it is exposed.

When Captain May set out to fulfill his task, to all human appearance he would never bring back half of his men, whether successful or not; and, but for the noble and generous act of Lieutenant Ridgely, such would have been the result. Ridgely was stationed along the road, and was pouring, with frightful effect, his grape into the enemy's battery, when May came riding up with his dragoons at his back. The former stopped him, just as he was about to emerge into open view of the enemy, and in direct range of his batteries, telling him that every piece had just been loaded, and if he charged then he would be swept away. "Stop," said this gallant officer, "until I draw their fire," then deliberately fired each gun, which sent such havoc amid their ranks that a general

discharge followed. The next moment, May, with his dragoons, rode into view, and swept furiously forward; and before the Mexicans were fully prepared to receive the shock the clattering tempest was upon them, and "the red field was won." These two battles are worth a thousand speeches in Congress, and Secretary's reports, respecting the wants and organization of our army. They show that our troops can be disciplined into the most perfect coolness and firmness in the hour of battle, and that the courage which won for us an independence, is strong as ever in our soldiers. They show, also, that those demagogues who, in Congress, are constantly decrying our standing army and military school at West Point-ridiculing all military education and science, and uttering frothy words about the bravery of the people being sufficient to outweigh the discipline of veteran troops, are as unfit to control our affairs as were the Jacobins of France to rule the destinies of that country. Too conceited to be taught by the experience of others they never cease their aggressions on everything that rebukes their ignorance, until overthrown, or silenced by deeds they cannot gain say. What would raw troops and volunteer-artillerymen have done with our cannon at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma? Where would have been the "stars and stripes" that is ever on the lips of these men, as if it had but to wave over a battle-field to frighten the oldest veterans of Europe from the fight,

had the country been governed by such policy as they recommend?

West Point has nobly vindicated herself from the attacks of these men, and her brave sons that lie on those fierce fought battle-fields shall forever silence their slanderous tongues. Skill and military discipline saved us, on the Mexican plains, from the severest mortification, and, doubtless, from a protracted war.

All honor then to General Taylor, and May, and Page, and Duncan, and Ridgely, and Churchill, and Inges, and Indon, and McIntosh, and Chadbourne, and Cochrane, and Walker, and Browne, and last though not least, Ringgold, and a host of others. Green be the grass over the fallen, and ever green the laurels that twine the brows of the living. Noble men-Ye who sleep are not deadthe brave and patriotic never die—they live in the hearts of their countrymen. Not a recreant son was found on those battle-fields; and all honor ought to be paid to our little army, every man of which was a hero. With such soldiers we can never be conquered, nor

our

arms disgraced. Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma will be bright pages in the biography of General Taylor. All honor, we say, then to our army and its officers. We toast the men, but not the cause; and while a curse rests on our capitol a circle of light surrounds our army of occupation. Our army has won enduring renown, but our government enduring disgrace.

HAVING unavoidably omitted to notice the Exhibition of the National Academy of Design for this year, during the time it remained open, we do not now intend to go into a detailed criticism of the pictures exhibited; but cannot neglect to take the opportunity of speaking of some of our painters and their works, at a time when the remembrance of them must be fresh in the minds of so many of our readers.

Of our painters we may well be proud as to their present attainment in art, and still more as to their promise of future achievement. We believe that Benjamin West is not the only man whom America, within a century of her independence, will send to the masters of Europe as their equal, perhaps as their superior. We believe that in spite of the material tendencies which, as a nation, we undoubtedly have, we have also peculiar characteristics which, now when developed in individual cases, will produce artists of greater strength and higher creative powers than those of modern Europe, and which in future when we, as a people, shall have become convinced that we have some time to devote to other things than those which pertain to our mere material existence, will make us, as a people, enlightened enthusiasts in art. Though at present we can but humbly imitate the example of the Englishman, and content ourselves with admiring and paying to the best of our poor ability, the time will come when we will bring into the field of art a susceptibility which he has not, while we will have all of his calm judgment and quiet humor, the Frenchman's fondness for accuracy and brilliant effect without his pettiness and conventionalism, the vigor and fancy of the German without his grossness and extravagance, and the fervor and grace of the Italian without the morbid sentiment which so frequently stimulates the one, or the languor which is the chief cause of the other.

Various great moral and physical causes combine to give us this prospective position in art among the nations of the earth; but for the very reason that they are great and varied, they will be long in working out their effect; and those who complain that we have not sufficient nationality in art, should recollect that this, in so far as it is desirable, is a consequence, not a precursor of nationality in feeling. Our painters will not found a national historical school by painting red-skins and the scenes of the old French and Revolutionary wars, nor a school of landscape by giving us views of primeval forests in the gaudy dress of autumn. Germans, Englishmen and Italians can do this if they be familiar with the subjects, and their works will be not one whit more American than if they painted the Hartz mountains, the battles of the Great Rebellion, or altar pieces. When we have a settled tone as a nation, then will our national traits be shown by our painters in their handling, not in their choice, of subjects. It is not the subject but the manner of treating it which marks the school. The sacred pieces of Rubens are as unItalian in character as is an interior by Gerard Dow, or a group of drinkers by Teniers; and an American who has the genius requisite to found a new school of painting, would run no more risk of destroying the character of his conceptions by studying and copying the works of Raphael and Rubens, than he would of changing the shape of his head by wearing the cap of the one or the hat of the other; and if he have not that genius, then he cannot do better for himself or his art than to adopt the style of some great master, modified, as it necessarily would be if he have any talent, by the peculiar tone of his own mind.

Neither is it necessary to the fostering of our nationality that our artists should choose themes from our own history.* True, this was the case with other nations, whose early poets and painters