At last the towering height was discerned, and the Spanish approach was perceived by the men of Acoma.

No pilot long becalmed in torrid seas
E'er saw his sails distended by the breeze,
With greater joy than lit each warrior's glance
To see the Spanish squadrons firm advance;
Then rose at once from all that rocky height,
Looming above us like the throne of night,
So fierce a cry, such wild unearthly yell
As might be given by the hosts of hell;
In serried line on moves our steady van
To where between two peaks-a Titan's span—
In haughty pride sat Acoma the queen,
Who never yet a conqueror had seen.
Between the peaks had Nature wanton thrown
A platform bristling with acutest stone;
Thence Zutacapan scanned with soldier's eye
The hostile force now open to descry,

Which formed in ordered line around the place.
Amazement at the scanty numbers filled his face.

The action with John de Zaldibar had lessened the Indian estimate of Spanish superiority, and Zutacapan assured the people that no such Spanish force as lay in the plain could take Acoma. The walls were thronged with naked warriors and women, hurling defiance and insult at their assailants.

The horse was still a mysterious animal to the Indians of New Mexico, and Zaldibar resolved to give them a superstitious dread of its powers. He sent a messenger and an interpreter to call upon the chiefs of Acoma to descend, and in conference explain their recent hostilities, threatening, if they refused, to ride up and destroy their town.

The Acomans answered with derisive shouts; but they gathered in full force to defend the main approach to the town. Foreseeing this, Zaldibar had selected twelve men, whom he concealed from view of the city behind some rocks. This picked band, to which Captain Villagrá was assigned, were quietly and stealthily to climb the height and reach the

further peak, from which the Indians had temporarily descended, but which commanded the town.

To cover their operations he struck his tents and moved with the rest of his men toward the path leading up to the town. The Indians prepared for the onset, but the keen watch kept on the horses, which Zaldibar kept curveting around, showed that they almost expected to see them come flying through the air.

Under cover of this the twelve, without any covering fire or protection, scaled the height, and fleet as racers contending for a prize, gained the commanding height, the key of the position.

The towering peak they gained without delay,
Then plunged adown the bristling flinty way;
Roused by the danger back the warriors sped,
To hold the pass or strew it with the dead.

But the brave twelve pressed down the narrow path,
As each good sword cut wide a bloody swath.

Bempol, a chief, first led up four hundred to attack them, but the firearms and swords cut down the naked chiefs and warriors in terrible slaughter. Other Indians came up, leaving the town almost undefended; but the twelve held their own, and were steadily gaining in spite of wounds and bruises.

Meanwhile favored by this diversion Zaldibar had reached the walls of the pueblo and had penetrated a house.

So ended the battle on St. Vincent's day, night descending before the fate of Acoma was decided. The previous night had been spent by the Indians in war-dance and carouse. Now all was still. Before sunrise the Spanish chaplain said mass, and nearly all the little force received communion to prepare for the decisive struggle before them.

When the sun rose, those on the height saw that the town was untenanted. The Indians had all drawn off to a cave in the rocks, beyond two chasms, from which they hoped to make a last sudden attack on the Spaniards.

Zaldibar's whole force was soon moving on this, and a part crossing the chasms on logs, opened fire into the cave with musketry and two light field-pieces that had been dragged up. But the Indians, roused to desperation, forced them back, and they with difficulty reached solid ground, one brave officer, Salado, receiving several mortal wounds.

The slaughter of the Indians had been so terrible that Zutacapan at last asked to surrender. He was told that the Spaniards would accept their submission, but that the leaders of the revolt would be punished. The chief preferred to die fighting, and the battle went on, many Indians killing each other.

Meanwhile the town had been set on fire, and the smoke and flames came rolling up. The few surviving Indians threw down their arms. Acoma was won, and Zaldibar had avenged his brother's death.

As the Spaniards moved through the ruined town, they came upon some women mutilating with savage fury the body of one of their own warriors. They were wreaking vengeance on the lifeless corpse of Zutacapan, source of all their woes.

Captain Villagrá describes the battle at great length and with some spirit, making Zutacapan, Bempol, and other of his adherents utter Homeric speeches, answered by the sage and venerable chief Chumpa, and by the noble Zutancalpo, son of Zutacapan, who steadily opposed his father, but when the battle came, fought and died like a hero. This chief the poet invests with peculiar interest, which is sustained till the scene where we behold his four sisters lamenting over his dead body.

Such is the History of the Conquest of New Mexico as told by Captain Villagrá. Such is the theme of the First Epic of our land sung by the poet Conquistador.

CATHOLIC ACTION ON THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON.

CONTRIBUTED BY JOHN GILMARY SHEA.

1.-LETTER OF WILLIAM MATTHEWS FROM GEORGETOWN COLLEGE.

GEORGETOWN, December 19th, '99.

DR. FRIEND:-I perceive by Poyen's letter that you know I am at the college again. I arrived here for the commencement of schools after the vacation: from the time I saw you in Baltimore, I have been in anxious expectation of a letter from you, especially as you promised me you would write to me soon after your arrival at Philadelphia. I knew not how to direct a letter to you, as the fever had forced the major part of citizens from the city, and I presumed you were among those who quitted the city. I would have written to you by my little friend Poyen but was uncertain whether he would be able to find you, not having any acquaintance with your friends.

I have the room you occupied, and have made it the most comfortable one in the college. I had the stove taken out, examined and found a flue that had no communication with that of the kitchen, had a franklin stove placed in it and now there is not a chimney in the college that draws better. My bed is next to the window, and my table and bureau. where the bed stood before. The other professors remain in statu quo ante decessum tuum. I have heard with great indignation the treatment you experienced from certain characters who were here at that time, and it was with great satisfaction I was informed that you treated those persons with

that contempt and disdain which they merited, and that you did not condescend to resent their impertinence. I have told them here that you could not have given a better mark of your good sense than by disdaining to resent ill treatment when it proceeded from such a contemptible quarter. You may depend no one will speak unfavorably of you in my presence, without finding in me a warm and zealous defendant of the absent: but I can assure you there is no one in the college disposed to speak thus of you. I sincerely wish you were here again. I frequently see Smith, he says he does not know your address: now I know it, I will inform him of it: With regard to your books, which you had for sale, if you have not disposed of them as yet, perhaps we may bargain about them. I had a small book printed when at Baltimore, and have sent subscription papers to different places, and have disposed of some hundreds: I have sent none to Phil.da and if you chuse, I will send you a subscription paper and when you have subscribers enough to amount to the value of your books, I will send up to you from Baltimore, the number of books. for which you procure subscribers. I make no doubt but you will be able to get at least 100 subscribers. I got 150 at Baltimore before I left it: if you approve of this plan, let me know it, and I will send you a subscription paper in my next. I heard you were in Baltimore lately: I wish you had come as far as Geotown.

You have ere this heard that the great, the Good, the illus trious Washington is no more!

Death said the word, the fatal arrow sped;

And Washington lies numbered with the dead!

He died of a quinsey; the Doctors wished to make an aperture in the side of his throat to facilitate respiration: (but) he said he was dying and did not fear death and consequently declined it. I have seen a person in Europe (Arch Lee's brother) in the same disorder, an aperture was made and he was instantaneously relieved and recovered.