After seeing the Alamo and penetrating its historic recesses, I was in no mood for much further sightseeing. Some of our party drove to a most interesting Mission on the outskirts of the town, others contented themselves with a distant view of it from the street cars. The weather was too hot for much further exertion, and it was with a sense of restful enjoyment that we reclined in our car "Lucania" as we speeded westward in the evening hour. We got a charming view of San Antonio, a mile or so out from the town, glowing in the radiance of the setting sun, and looking as neat, thriving, and attractive as we found it in our experience. It seemed to deserve the added splendor of the sunset glow; and as a light of historic glory, and of a fame which can never set, we here insert a few striking lines called the "Hymn of the Alamo." HYMN OF THE ALAMO BY CAPTAIN REUBEN M. POTTER, U.S.A. Rise! man the wall--our clarion's blast Now sounds the final reveille; This dawning morn must be the last Our fated band shall ever see. To life, but not to hope, farewell; Your trumpet's clang, and cannon's peal, And storming shout, and clash of steel Is ours, but not our country's knell. Welcome the Spartan's death-- 'Tis no despairing strife-- We fall--we die--but our expiring breath Is Freedom's breath of life. "Here on this new Thermopylae Our monument shall tower on high, And 'Alamo' hereafter be On bloodier fields the battle cry." Thus Travis from the rampart cried. And when his warriors saw the foe Like whelming billows move below, At once each dauntless heart replied: "Welcome the Spartan's death-- 'Tis no despairing strife-- We fall--we die--but our expiring breath Is Freedom's breath of life!" They come--like autumn leaves they fall, Yet hordes on hordes they onward rush; With gory tramp they mount the wall, Till numbers the defenders crush. The last was felled--the fight to gain-- Well may the ruffians quake to tell How Travis and his hundred fell Amid a thousand foemen slain. They died the Spartan's death, But not in hopeless strife; Like brothers died--and their expiring breath Was freedom's breath of life. Among the many pleasant incidents of our stay in San Antonio was the meeting with some of the students of the West Texas Military Academy, of which my young friend the Rev. A. L. Burleson is the rector. They were splendid young fellows. It was a regret that I could not visit the school and pay my respects to one who bears the honored name of Burleson. To look at those young students was a delight; and to know that the seed sown at Racine, under De Koven, where the Rev. Mr. Burleson graduated, was here, in this great Southwest, bearing such good fruitage, was a delightful memory to bring away from San Antonio. VII