At Monterey the 1st Mississippi regiment was stationed at one of the forts in the suburbs of the city, and in the battle that ended with the defeat of Ampudia, its Mexican defender, Jefferson Davis received a slight wound. Before this event, at the time and subsequently, it was noticed that Colonel Davis and General Taylor had never met, and it was evident that this was designed and not the result of accident—there was an understanding seemingly that kept them apart. The cause of this was freely discussed, and it came to the surface that a reconciliation had never taken place between General Taylor and Colonel Davis on account of the elopement, and so things remained until the close of the three days’ struggle that ended in triumph at Buena Vista. It was on the occasion when victory seemed hesitating where she should bestow her wreath—when the men of the North and the West had exhausted their energies—when Clay, Crittenden, Yell, and their brave compatriots slept in death on the bloody field—at this moment, when Santa Anna believed and announced himself the hero of the field, and when he concentrated his favorite troops to make a last charge upon our dispirited and exhausted columns, that Colonel Davis, at the head of his Mississippi regiment, nobly sustained the shock, and sent the foe back disappointed and dismayed. Then it was that “Old Zach,” seeing by whom he, his gallant men, and his country’s honor, had been saved, had no place in his heart but for gratitude, and the long estranged embraced each other and wept tears of reconciliation upon the battle-field. Time passed on, and General Taylor completed his brilliant campaign. Our country had then, for nearly two generations, been unused to war, and the magnificent achievements of old “Rough and Ready” filled the hearts of the people with the intensest admiration. The old cottage on the low bluff at Baton Rouge gradually became of classic interest. Grateful people travelling along the highway of the great Mississippi, representing every State in the Union, and every civilized nation of the earth, would admiringly point out General Taylor’s residence. If any of those great western floating palaces stopped at Baton Rouge, some of the passengers would climb up the hill and visit the “garrison grounds,” and the young ladies especially would make the pilgrimage in hopes they might see Miss Betty, whom they with woman’s quickness of perception, felt was to be the first lady of the land, by presiding at the White House.