bosomed among mountains, on which the city is built. The San Juan River encircles the pleasant town on one side, and all about it the heights of the Sierras rise above the city, lying half hid by its clustering trees. On one of the heights, commanding the city, was the bishop's palace, a stately pile of white limestone, with the green, white, and red flag of the republic floating from its top. The palace and the hillside bristled with cannon, and on all the heights about the city, the black yawning mouths of these instruments of death stood ready to pour their volleys into the ranks of the invading army. To the north was the stone citadel, showing a gun at every loop-hole, and affording an impregnable shelter to the besieged army if all other defenses failed. To look at her preparation it seemed impossible to believe that any army could take a city with every avenue so guarded as that of Monterey.

The Americans sat quietly down three miles from the city, while their officers settled on the best mode of attack, and studied point by point the enemy's defenses. On the 19th of September the plans were made and the army began to move. General Worth led his division around to the west to attack in the rear the palace of the bishop, and Taylor with the main army began cannonading the centre of the town. On the 21st of September the firing began from Taylor's batteries, answered by the roar of the great guns of the citadel. All through that day the thunder of artillery deafened the ear. Just before dusk General Worth took the batteries on the height nearest the palace of the bishop, and turned the captured guns against the defenses. At night the soldiers on both sides lay down to rest in the midst of a terrific thunder-storm. Many of the Americans, without shelter, lay on the bare earth, exposed to the drenching rain. Next morning, almost before day-break, the assault on the bishop's palace was made. It was brief, and ended in victory. The flag of Mexico was pulled down, and the "red, white, and blue" was seen waving over the turrets of this stronghold.

In the mean time Taylor's army were hammering away at the defenses in front of the town. On the morning of the 22d they entered the streets of the city and fought their way inch by inch. towards the citadel. Every street was barricaded and protected by cannon, which swept a deadly fire down the ranks of the Americans. They literally dug their way through the opposing barriers, driving the besieged army closer and closer to the citadel, until they were forced to take refuge in its sheltering walls. By sunset on the 22d

Taylor's army held the town as securely as Worth held the palace. Only the bastioned front of the citadel opposed itself to the besiegers, and behind those walls lay General Ampudia and his army, defeated and broken in numbers and courage. They had fought bravely, and with the earnestness of men who fight on their own soil. Next morning when they proposed to surrender, General Taylor gave them generous terms. He allowed them to march out of the citadel with all their side arms, and pledged himself not to follow or attack them until eight weeks had expired. Thus on the 23d of September the strong city of Monterey fell into the hands of our army. We had paid for it with one hundred and twenty men killed, three hundred and sixty-eight wounded.

In the mean time, while Taylor was marching from the Rio Grande to Monterey, victorious in every encounter, the Ameri

can arms were gaining easy victories elsewhere. Three divisions of the United States army were penetrating into the republic of Mexico, and already the United States flag waved over many Mexican towns in token of conquest.

The first of these three divisions was the gallant

"Army of the West," commanded by General Stephen Kearney. It started from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for its long march to the Mexican border in the month of June, a few weeks after Taylor's victory at Palo Alto. The destination of the troops was the town of Santa Fe, the largest in New Mexico and the most famous trading place between Mexico, Texas, and the United States.

The Spanish Bayonet.

Fort Leavenworth is on the Missouri River in Kansas, and is now surrounded by one of the flourishing cities of the West. Then it was a lonely military fort, far away from civilization, with great plains roamed over by the wolf and bison, stretching away to the

west and south. Over these broad spreading plains, covered with sage bush, tufts of gray buffalo grass, and the sharp pointed cactus, the army took its march. Except where an occasional river, bordered by cotton-wood trees, crept slowly through the plain, the way was barren and treeless. Sometimes they met vast herds of the buffalo traveling north for the summer. At night the howling of the prairie wolf often disturbed the slumbers of the camp. The only other inhabitant of the plain were the prairie dogs, whose towns were built thickly all along the northern part of their journey. As the soldiers marched through these "prairie dog towns," the bright eyed

little animals would sit erect on their hannches, blinking cunningly at the men, then suddenly turning tail would dart into their holes and disappear in the underground labyrinth where they dwelt.

After a march of more than a month the sight of the Arkansas River cheered the eyes of the weary travelers, and a little rest at Bent's Fort on its banks refreshed them after their long march. From thence to Santa Fé the way was less monotonous, sometimes leading among grand old mountains and scenery of surpassing beauty. Early in August they set foot in the Territory of New

Mexico, the northern line of the Mexican possessions. Kearney's proceedings were executed with military brevity and decision. Whenever he entered a town they were all miserable, badly built villages of adobe houses in this region - he summoned the alcaid or Mayor of the place, and asked him to take the oath of allegiance to the United States, for himself and the inhabitants. The trembling alcaid, surrounded by American troops, could do no better than comply, and usually took the oath without hesitation. Sometimes he ventured to hope his religion should not be interfered with, and General Kearney assured him he might be as devout a Roman Catholic as he liked, if he would be true to the United States. Thus town after town was left with the stars and stripes flying above its walls of mud brick, and Kearney, who was a hearty soldier, and not unpopular with the Mexicans, went triumphantly on to Santa Fé. At first this town made preparations for defense, but hearing that the country had surrendered without resistance, hopeless of success against the invaders, concluded to make no show of battle. Kearney

marched peacefully into the town, conciliated the people with promises of the best possible treatment if they would be faithful to the government he represented, unfurled his flag from the palace of the Mexican governor, and fired a cannon salute in honor of his conquest. As the sound reverberated over the scene of his bloodless victory,