Remember the Alamo | Page 6

the
centuries without Quixotes! Nothing will remain to them but--Sancho
Panzas."
CHAPTER II.
ANTONIA AND ISABEL.
"He various changes of the world had known, And some vicissitudes of
human fate, Still altering, never in a steady state Good after ill, and
after pain delight, Alternate, like the scenes of day and night."
"Ladies whose bright eyes Rain influence."
"But who the limits of that power shall trace, Which a brave people into
life can bring, Or hide at will, for freedom combating By just revenge
inflamed?"
For many years there had never been any doubt in the mind of Robert
Worth as to the ultimate destiny of Texas, though he was by no means
an adventurer, and had come into the beautiful land by a sequence of
natural and business-like events. He was born in New York. In that city
he studied his profession, and in eighteen hundred and three began its
practice in an office near Contoit's Hotel, opposite the City Park. One
day he was summoned there to attend a sick man. His patient proved to
be Don Jaime Urrea, and the rich Mexican grandee conceived a warm
friendship for the young physician.
At that very time, France had just ceded to the United States the
territory of Louisiana, and its western boundary was a subject about
which Americans were then angrily disputing. They asserted that it was
the Rio Grande; but Spain, who naturally did not want Americans so
near her own territory, denied the claim, and made the Sabine River the
dividing line. And as Spain had been the original possessor of

Louisiana, she considered herself authority on the subject.
The question was on every tongue, and it was but natural that it should
be discussed by Urrea and his physician. In fact, they talked continually
of the disputed boundary, and of Mexico. And Mexico was then a name
to conjure by. She was as yet a part of Spain, and a sharer in all her
ancient glories. She was a land of romance, and her very name tasted
on the lips, of gold, and of silver, and of precious stones. Urrea easily
persuaded the young man to return to Mexico with him.
The following year there was a suspicious number of American visitors
and traders in San Antonio, and one of the Urreas was sent with a
considerable number of troops to garrison the city. For Spain was well
aware that, however statesmen might settle the question, the young and
adventurous of the American people considered Texas United States
territory, and would be well inclined to take possession of it by force of
arms, if an opportunity offered.
Robert Worth accompanied General Urrea to San Antonio, and the visit
was decisive as to his future life. The country enchanted him. He was
smitten with love for it, as men are smitten with a beautiful face. And
the white Moorish city had one special charm for him--it was seldom
quite free from Americans, Among the mediaeval loungers in the
narrow streets, it filled his heart with joy to see at intervals two or three
big men in buckskin or homespun. And he did not much wonder that
the Morisco-Hispano-Mexican feared these Anglo-Americans, and
suspected them of an intention to add Texan to their names.
His inclination to remain in San Antonio was settled by his marriage.
Dona Maria Flores, though connected with the great Mexican families
of Yturbide and Landesa, owned much property in San Antonio. She
had been born within its limits, and educated in its convent, and a visit
to Mexico and New Orleans had only strengthened her attachment to
her own city. She was a very pretty woman, with an affectionate nature,
but she was not intellectual. Even in the convent the sisters had not
considered her clever.
But men often live very happily with commonplace wives, and Robert

Worth had never regretted that his Maria did not play on the piano, and
paint on velvet, and work fine embroideries for the altars. They had
passed nearly twenty-six years together in more than ordinary content
and prosperity. Yet no life is without cares and contentions, and Robert
Worth had had to face circumstances several times, which had brought
the real man to the front.
The education of his children had been such a crisis. He had two sons
and two daughters, and for them he anticipated a wider and grander
career than he had chosen for himself. When his eldest child, Thomas,
had reached the age of fourteen, he determined to send him to New
York. He spoke to Dona Maria of this intention. He described
Columbia to her with all the affectionate pride of a student for his alma
mater. The boy's grandmother also still lived in the home wherein, he
himself had grown