The cannon of the Citadel still swept our falling flanks— The guns of Fort Teneria sent death throughout our ranks;— Every window, door and house-top concealed a hidden foe, Who sent his leaden welcome to the files that fought below: Death reigned supreme: we stood aghast; but not a man gave way, Though never yet was fight so fought as that at MONTEREY. Sudden! arose a cry—a yell! and we saw our banners wave Over Fort Teneria’s summit: God! what a shout we gave! QUITMAN and his brigade were there, and the enemy’s flag went down, As, with another rallying cry, we hurried through the town: Fort Diablo’s guns received us, and one third our columns lay Gasping—wounded—dying—dead—in the streets of MONTEREY. The rest grew sick at heart; but we closed our ranks and dashed Onward, with cheers, as all around our enemies’ muskets flashed; But BUTLER, tottering on his steed, staggered, and reeled, and sank, And with him, at the same discharge, went down our leading rank:— Human nature could endure no more, and the now departing day Saw us retreating slowly through the town of MONTEREY. Another day passed slowly by, and we made our bivouac Where we fought, for, though our foes were brave, they could not drive us back; But the morrow brought fresh orders, and our men with hurrying feet Pressed on again, troop after troop, contesting street by street; From door to door, from house to house, we fiercely fought our way, Determined that the night should see us lords of MONTEREY. Then came the deadly conflict, foot to foot and hand to hand, For at every nook and corner our foemen made a stand; From the barricades which swept the streets, from the roofs above our head, And the windows at our sides, descended showers of iron and lead; And the crash of tumbling timbers, and the clash of steel, that day, With the death-cries of the dying, rent the skies of MONTEREY. That night the conflict ceased, and the crimson morning sun Beheld the city in our hands—the bloody battle won. Next day our conquered foes marched out, and slowly over the plain Moved from our sight in silence—a sad, disheartened train; But many an eye glanced backward, remembering the affray, While we gazed on, like statues—the MEN OF MONTEREY. [Illustration: woman weeping over a dead soldier] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SUNSHINE OF LOVE.] * * * * * LOITERINGS AND LIFE ON THE PRAIRIES OF THE FARTHEST WEST. BY J. M. LEGARE.