[Editorial note by the Contributor: Through Mrs. J. C. Nagle, now of Dallas, Texas, but for many years a resident of College Station, Texas, I first heard of the manuscript of General George W. Morgan, then in the hands of her father, Colonel James Morris Morgan, of Washington, D.C. The two Morgans were not related. Colonel James Morris Morgan sent me the typewritten copy he had made of the original manuscript, suggesting publication in THE QUARTERLY. The original manuscript is not available. The story of the duel (pages 187-193) was published in The Military Historian and Economist, I, 467-473.]
Major General George W. Morgan was born in Washington County, Pennsylvania, on the 20th of September, 1820. He was the son of Thomas Morgan and Katharine Duane, his wife. Thomas Morgan was an intimate friend of both President Andrew Jackson and his wife, as can be seen by their intimate correspondence. Katharine Duane was the daughter of Colonel William Duane, Editor of the Philadelphia "Argus." The Duanes were descendants of the Irish patriot, General Sarsfield, who was the Earl of Lucan. Thomas Morgan was a son of Colonel George Morgan of the Revolutionary Army. It was at the home of Colonel George Morgan, "Morganza," near Washington, Pa., and about sixteen miles from Pittsburgh, Pa., that Aaron Burr made known his plans for a South Western Empire. Colonel Morgan was indignant and was the first person to inform President Jefferson of Burr's treasonable intentions. (See Letters of Jefferson, also letter to Mrs. Katharine Duane Morgan, now in Congressional Library.)
Colonel George Morgan and his sons John and Thomas were witnesses against Burr at the trial in Richmond, Va., and Colonel William Duane, accompanied by his daughter Katharine, was also there reporting the famous trial for his newspaper. It was there that Thomas Morgan first met his future wife, and became engaged to her.
The manuscript of General George W. Morgan came into my possession some twenty odd years ago when his widow and daughter, both of whom have been dead for some years, were visiting at my home in Washington, D.C. The writing that is not General Morgan's is the penmanship of his daughter Sallie. If my memory serves me correctly, a part of the original had been somewhat blurred by the upsetting of an inkstand and his daughter had copied while it was still legible.
Owing to the partiality of General Sam Houston, George Morgan was given a commission of Captain in the regular army of the Republic of Texas, and at the age of eighteen he was in command of the Post of Galveston. He resigned this position to accept a cadetship at West Point but did not graduate, as he resigned as a second classman and went to Mount Vernon, Ohio, where he studied law. His widow told the writer that "General Morgan never would tell anyone why he left West Point."
On the outbreak of the war with Mexico young Morgan was made Colonel of the 2nd Regiment of Ohio Volunteers and served in the army of General Taylor. When the 15th Regular Infantry regiment was formed George Morgan was made its first Colonel and it was sent to serve with General Scott. It was at Churubusco that he was badly wounded and was brevetted a Brigadier General at the age of twenty-six, the youngest in the Mexican war.
At the close of the war he resigned from the army and returned to his practice of the law, but his wound was long in healing and President Pierce sent him first as Consul to Marseilles and as soon as there was a vacancy at Lisbon he was sent as Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to Portugal where he remained until the commencement of the Civil War, when he returned to America and was at once made a Brigadier General. He saw much service and gained great reputation among military men for his masterly retreat from Cumberland Gap while being continually harrassed by the Confederate Cavalry General, John Morgan, of raiding fame. He succeeded General Sherman in the command of the 13th Corps, U.S.A. and was at Vicksburg.
President Lincoln consulted General George Morgan as to the advisability of using negro troops in the Union army and General Morgan strongly advised against doing so. He left the presence of the President under the impression that his counsel would be followed, and when he found that he was mistaken he at once resigned his commission, and resumed the practice of the law, and served several terms as a member of Congress. When Seymour & Blair were nominated by the democratic convention, the many friends of General Morgan strongly urged his nomination for President at one period of the proceedings.
General Morgan died at Fortress Monroe, Virginia, on July 26, 1893.
It is not my purpose to write a history nor yet an autobiography; but to give a narrative of incidents connected with events with which I had personal knowledge or played an humble part in some of the stirring dramas in actual life which constitute the very soul and poetry of our history.
On both sides of my parentage I am connected with a line of soldiers. My mother was descended from Sarsfields of Ireland, and her father William Duane, was a Lieutenant Colonel and Adjutant General in the army of the United States; and my paternal grandfather was Colonel George Morgan who served under Washington, while his elder brother, Dr. John Morgan, had been a lieutenant in the British Colonial army and served as a Surgeon under Wolfe at Quebeck; and was also the first Surgeon General of the United States Army.
The eldest son of Colonel George Morgan, my uncle John, was aid-de-camp to that General Buttler who was killed at St. Clair's defeat. Young Morgan was cashiered for personally denouncing St. Clair as the calumniator of his dead chief.
My kin also served in the war of 1812; in the Army of the Republic of Texas; in the war with Mexico; and in the great civil war. The descendants of old Colonel George Morgan held commissions and did battle in both of the opposing armies. Therefore it is scarcely strange that I should have served in three wars, that of the Texas Revolution, the war with Mexico, and the great war of Secession. And it is mainly of incidents and anecdotes connected with these contests and the great men who conducted them that I propose to write.
I was not yet sixteen when I left College to enlist as a private Soldier in a company organized by my brother Thomas Jefferson Morgan, in September, 1836, to aid Texas in maintaining her independence against the rapacious and chaotic government of Mexico, and it was in the "land of the lone star" that I first knew Sam Houston, who as a patriot, statesman, and soldier deserves to rank in history as one of the ablest and grandest characters whose names adorn the annals of our country.
I knew Houston as intimately as a boy can know a man who has achieved greatness with maturity. He was my cordial friend to the hour of his death.
In his early boyhood he had been a soldier, received wounds and won distinction before the down appeared upon his cheek; this fact doubtless procured for me his sympathy and regard; and his friendship for me only died with his life. Now that he is gone, and my beard has grown gray, I venerate his memory and with admiration think of his great deeds and lofty character. He was as great and pure a patriot as Washington, and had he been a man at the time of our protracted struggle for National Independence, and had there been no Washington, no man living could have so well filled the position which that grand character so amply occupied, as Sam Houston. He was as wise and great as Washington, but personally, as eccentric as the great Frederic, and were the grand achievements in statesmanship and war to be eliminated from the life of either of them, either might, at times, have been taken for a madman instead of a great man—but for all that, wiser statesmen never shaped the destinies of Nations. And now I cannot proceed with my story without speaking of my brother; for he was the noblest and most truly chivalrous and unselfish being that I ever knew. He had the eye of an eagle, the heart of a woman, the courage of a lion, and withal was a man of great ability—his mind was at once brilliant and profound, and his organization was refined and sensitive. Instinctively he espoused the cause of the weak when the weak was wronged and oppressed.
When he was about eighteen years of age, an Englishman named Gould, came to Washington, Pennsylvania, where we lived; and proceeded to deliver a series of "Abolition Lectures." He was a man of great eloquence and produced a profound sensation. At that time the mass of the community regarded an "Abolition Lecturer" as an evil which should be abated, and a mob of about two hundred citizens gathered outside of the church where the lecture was being delivered and -from shouting proceeded to actual violence. Eggs and stones were hurled through the windows until at last it became evident that the lecturer could not proceed. To remain in the church was to risk being maimed or killed. The audience was composed of men, women, and children—How was Gould to be rescued?
Doctor Francis Julius Lemoyne, born of a sturdy Scotch mother by a versatile French father, was a man of great ability and singular peculiarities of character. He is the same Lemoyne who afterwards became the founder of the doctrine of cremation, and built the first crematory ever established in America. He was a reasoner of immense power, and in debate could have confronted Webster or Calhoun. He was an earnest and fearless Abolitionist, and Gould was his guest. The Church door was reached when Lemoyne, cane sword in hand, placed himself on one side of Gould, and Samuel McFarland of Scotch-Irish descent, on the other, while two or three sturdy citizens brought up the rear, and with brother Tom, hickory cane in hand, at the head of the little column they left the church.
Urchin as I was, armed with a stone in each hand, I threw myself out as a flanker. The mob yelled as only a mob yells, and several times the little party of defenders were forced to seek shelter in door ways, or houses on the wayside, until there was a lull in the storm; when the march would be resumed, and the residence of Lemoyne was finally reached.
A mob is the most beastly and cowardly of animals. Composed of many, it is generally organized to attack the few, and being without conscience is ready for any crime of which blood and fire are the chief ingredients.
In defense of Gould, Lemoyne would have killed, and so would my brother. The mob seemed to recognize this fact, and as there was no desire to kill either one of the self constituted defenders, the only persons who were hurt were my little self, and John Ruth one of the leaders of the mob. He was a quiet and inoffensive citizen, but had caught the general contagion of wanting to "kill an Abolitionist." I was on the flank, near Mr. McFarland when the mob surged forward with a ferocious yell; I let fly with a stone at Ruth hitting him on the head. For a moment he seemed stunned, then rushing forward he hurled me to the ground and was stamping on me when McFarland called out: "Hold Ruth ! Remember he is only a boy!" The instinct of generosity thereupon overcame Ruth's anger and raising me from the ground with a little shake he exclaimed: "There now! Will you behave yourself."
My brother was not an Abolitionist, but lived and died a friend of his own race, and a lover of fair play. For my part I was too young to know or care anything about the matter, but I was old enough to feel that my brother who was my idol was in danger. It was but a few months after this event in my life that our country was shocked by the horrid tragedies of the "Alamo" and "Goliad," which were only relieved by Houston's brilliant victory of San Jacinto and his superb magnanimity toward the perfidious Santa Anna, who had become his prisoner.
A Mexican Army of considerable strength was concentrating at Matamoras and loud boasts were made of its purpose to subjugate Texts. It was then that the government of the Republic appealed to the people of the United States for aid; this was in 1836. Felix Huston a distinguished lawyer of Natches, Mississippi, contributed ten thousand dollars towards equipping and organizing a body of cavalry for service in the army of Texas and as their commander led them to that country. His rank was that of a Brigadier General. My brother Tom was just out of College and I was a freshman. Tom at once organized a company of Volunteers in Washington, Pennsylvania. A second company was organized in Zanesville, Ohio, and a third at Mount Vernon, Ohio, and in this there was a singular coincidence, for I was born in Washington, Pennsylvania. Zanesville was the residence and birthplace of Miss Sarah H. Hall who became my wife, and Mount Vernon, Ohio, became my permanent home.
The general sentiment of our Country was with Texas; but the sympathies of an aggressive minority were against her. My brother, Captain Morgan, raised a pole in front of the Court House from which floated the flag of the lone star with the legend, "Liberty or Death." It was at the time of the general muster, and the generals of the Militia, whether of their own accord, or at the instigation of others, took umbrage at the foreign flag being raised, as they said, over the Stars and Stripes: when in fact no such thing was done. The objection was frivolous and absurd. My brother and his men would have died for the Stars and Stripes, they only wished to aid the cause of liberty in Texas, with the hope, perhaps, that the lone and lonely star would one day become one of the brilliant constellation on our own National Ensign.
The Militia Generals, in their blazing uniforms, called up my father's residence to demand of my brother that the flag of Texas should be hauled down, and intimated that if it was not lowered by him, they would pull it down themselves.
The general Muster had brought together several thousand men. The parlor in which the Militia Generals were received became crowded by civilians in military uniforms and other citizens who pushed their way into the room, actuated by motives of curiosity or feeling. My father and brother received the Generals with courtesy; but when their demand was made, my brother spring on to a chair and in indignant tones demanded to know by what right they invaded the sanctity of his father's house, and by what authority they threatened to take down the Texan recruiting flag; adding: "If I am violating law, I am ready to respond to the law; but show me the law under which you pretend to act. It is you and not I who are the disturbers of the peace; and if evil comes of this, the responsibility will be yours. And new I warn you that I will defend that flag, and the first man who dares molest it shall be shot down by my orders!"
This language brought about a truce, and it was finally agreed that the flag of Texas should be allowed to float in front of my father's residence.
The full complement of my brother's company having been enlisted, we marched to Wheeling, and there took a little stern wheel boat, named the "Loyal Hannah," for Louisville, Kentucky. Before we started, however, a boat arrived from below with word that it had passed another steamer bearing President Jackson,— she had stopped at Marietta, Ohio, but would soon be along. I was the color bearer of the company and had received the flag from the hands of my sister Catherine a high spirited girl who would have gone to the rescue of Texas had she been a boy. The musicians and color bearer were ordered to the hurricane deck, the company was formed., and the flag unfurled, ready to salute the coming hero. When we met his boat the music struck up "Yankee Doodle," the flag was lowered in salute and three cheers were given for Andrew Jackson.
Lemoyne, the great Abolitionist, was on that boat and demanded of the President, why it was that armed bodies of men were allowed to be recruited in the United States to make war upon Mexico. To which General Jackson replied: "That Americans had the lawful right to emigrate and to bear arms"—The truth was that the heart of Jackson was with Houston and his patriots. He committed no overt act in favor of Texas, but it was generally known that his warmest sympathies were with his cause.
Just below Louisville the three companies commanded by Captains Charles Colerick, George H. Burroughs, and Thomas J. Morgan, rendezvoused in September, (1836) and were detained there for some time awaiting transportation to New Orleans. Because of the delay, my parents came to Louisville, and remained there for three weeks. This incident I mention to correct the erroneous impression entertained by some people that I had run away from home to go to Texas. On the contrary I went with their full approval and consent. My father having gone to Philadelphia to purchase arms for my brother and myself. My mother had the spirit of a Roman matron, and although she did not say: "Come back with your shields or on them," we knew that she meant it.
General Thomas J. Chambers, a citizen of Texas, had been authorized to enlist a corps of reserves and had contributed ten thousand dollars for that purpose. Through his instrumentality a large flat boat was built to transport the troops, and finally we cast loose from the wharf at Portland, to float down the beautiful Ohio, and the grand and turbulent Mississippi, to our destination. The trip was a joyous one. The troops fraternized, and discipline had not yet crystallized. In fact it was more like a lawless pleasure excursion than an advance of organized soldiers, until one day, while we were tied up to the river bank at a wood yard, engaged in cooking our rations, one of the floating steam palaces of the great river, bound for New Orleans, came majestically plowing through the water, and as she rounded to, whether from reckless malice, or from carelessness on the part of a pilot, she struck our flat boat with a force which caused it to quiver from stem to stern. Colerick, who was the senior captain by age, determined instantly to turn the incident to good account. He set men to work on one side of the boat to work the pumps, while on the other side, men with buckets were actively engaged in dipping water out of the river and emptying it into the old Ark. While this was going on, the three Captains went on board the steamer and notified her Master that he must pay for the damage done. At first he was disposed to treat the matter as a jest, but when informed that his boat could not leave until reparation was made, a compromise was effected, whereby it was agreed, that the steamer should transport the three companies and their munitions to New Orleans.
On arriving at New Orleans we found a company from Norfolk, Virginia, awaiting us, and after a few days delay, we embarked on board of a "Bangor Brig," commanded by Captain Mitchell, bound for Matagorda.
It was in November, and the equinoctial storm had not yet burst upon the Gulf. The weather was beautiful and there was every indication of a pleasant and speedy voyage.
On the first night out, while the moon was shining brightly and the men, packed like sardines, were slumbering on the deck, a little black cloud passed over the rim of the moon. From its first appearance it attracted the attention of the vigilant skipper. He began at once to take in sail. The cloud spot increased rapidly in size, soon obscuring the moon. A sudden peal of thunder which seemed to make the very sea tremble, and the tropical storm in sublime and terrible fury was upon us. In a voice as sharp and clear as the blast of a trumpet, Captain Mitchell sang out: "Every man of you below or you will be in hell in less than three minutes!" Headlong the men rushed below, and immediately the hatches were battened down, while great waves swept over the deck where our men had a few seconds before been so quietly sleeping.
The first lieutenant of our company was John L. Gilder of Philadelphia, who had come from the great city to join my brother. A braver, truer man, never stood by friends in the hour of peril. My brother, Gilder, and myself were seated on a bench which was fastened to the deck with its back to the framework of the companionway leading to the cabin. At Gilder's suggestion we kept our seats, and where he got it I do not know, but with a rope he quickly fastened us to our seat, and thus we witnessed the grandest, the most sublime, and terrible night I have ever experienced. It seemed as though all the furies of hell had burst loose and were enacting their deviltries on sea and sky. The shrill, loud, metallic crashing of the thunder, rattled and roared as though the universe were being torn asunder. There was an incessant change from the blackest darkness to blinding light when sea and sky seemed in a blaze of fire. The wind howled and shrieked—spars cracked, broke, and were whirled away, the cracking of a mast was heard, and down it came, then the heroes of the sea, guided by the clarion call of Mitchell's voice, cut the wreckage adrift and it too was swept overboard and into the seething sea. The cargo was light and the little brig pitched and tossed in a most dreadful manner, several times she was on her beam ends, but always righted herself again.
We three were very quiet and calm; we were fascinated by the storm. Between the crashes of the thunder, I once said to Gilder: "Can the vessel live?" "Not unless the storm abates at sunrise," he replied.
About dawn the danger of the bursting clouds subsided, but it was still blowing so hard that the sea was a level, seething cauldron of froth. Mitchell, aided by a seaman, had the wheel, while like a phantom the fated vessel flew before the wind. We passed a small steamer floating bottom up, and by a freak of the waves her pilot house had been thrown upon the hull.
The whole coast was strewn with wrecks but at last we were landed safely on the shore of Matagorda Bay.
he braved the storm are photographed upon my memory. The little Brig, we learned, was shortly afterwards wrecked on one of the I can never forget Captain Mitchell-His face and figure as West India Islands, and the story we heard, told how the crew were all saved by the sagacity of Mitchell's dog, a noble animal, worthy of such a master. A light rope, attached to a cable, was fastened around the spaniel's neck, the brave beast swam ashore, people on the beach made fast the rope to some rocks, and one by one the crew, in safety, reached the land.
My brother's company reached "Camp Independence" on the "LaBaca" river in the latter part of November. Brig. General Felix Huston was in command. He was a born Hussar. In a corresponding field of activity he would have become as distinguished as "Murat," and like Murat, he was dashing, generous, and brilliant; with an audacity which bounded on recklessness. He required a firm hand to hold him in check, and a cool head to give general directions to his actions. He was possessed of a fiery eloquence, and was as ambitious as Cortez, and under like circumstances would have most probably done all that Cortez did. But he did not seem to have any idea of discipline as a principle, but absolutely controlled his troops by his personal magnetism. His love of tactics amounted to a passion, and he enjoyed maneuvering his troops as a society youth loves the waltz. Like Cortez, it was his thought by day, and his dream at night, to march a conquering army into the "Halls of the Montezumas." During the intervals of drill, when his soldiers were addressed, and sometimes while they were in double column closed "en masse," he would pour forth floods of burning eloquence and arouse their passions by allusions to the massacres of the "Alamo" and "Goliad," and in glowing colors portray the tropical beauties of the land far beyond the Rio Grande, the home of the Pine Apple, the Orange, and Lemon, the Guava, the Pommegranite, and Banana. And then with an innuendo as keen as the edge of a scimitar, he would ask: "Why they had been invited to come to Texas if it is not to fight? Why should brave men be kept in idleness, while the vaunting foe was marshaled beyond the Rio Grande" and his blue gray eye would emit sparks of fire as his tall and slender form moved to and fro as a mighty tree sways and bends and rears itself again when torn and lashed by the storm. Had he chosen to do so, he could have marched that army to Columbia with the avowed purpose of driving Sam Houston and the Congress then in session into the Brazos River.
Most of the rank and file, and probably a majority of the officers were entranced by his eloquence.
This dangerous state of affairs was communicated to Albert Sidney Johnston, then Adjutant General of the Republic of Texas, by Major Gray, and Captain Thomas J. Morgan.
Felix Huston was a man of might, but there was a mightier and far greater man in the executive cottage at Columbia. That man was Sam Houston, the President of the young Republic. Without military escort, accompanied by only two or three officers, without a Herald and without parade, he suddenly appeared at Camp Independence.
Felix Huston was over six feet two inches in height but the hero of San Jacinto towered above him. His manner was calm and solemn, and his noble countenance impressed all who saw him for the first time, while the few veterans who had fought by his side at San Jacinto, gathered around him as soldiers always cluster around a loved chief under whom they have fought, suffered, and conquered.
Houston's first act was to visit the hospitals, and inquire into the condition of the sick, and utter to them kind words of hope end cheer. The next day he reviewed the little army, witnessed their evolutions, and then caused them to be formed in column closed "en masse." The scene was on one of the flower carpeted prairies of that beautiful land. The ground was covered with wild flowers, and standing on a little knoll, he addressed the men as a kind father would speak to his wayward children. Without telling them that they were at fault, he complimented both Felix Huston, and them, upon their soldierly bearing, and excellence in drill. In the name of Texas he thanked them for coming from their far away homes as LaFayette and Steuben, De Kalb, and Kosiosco liad done in the days of Washington to maintain the cause of Liberty and Independence. He told them that the eyes of the civilized world were upon them, and appealed to them to disprove the calumnies sown broadcast against Texas, and Texans, by those, who were in sympathy with the Tyrants of Mexico." His sonorous and mellifluous voice like the tones of a mighty organ, rolled over the column, penetrating every heart—For a time at least the army deeply felt his influence and it seemed as though all danger had passed. He returned to the capital.
As soon as the wonderful magnetism of Houston was removed Felix Huston regained his influence over the men. The spell was broken, and it was then that the Congress of Texas passed an act authorizing the appointment of a "First Brigadier General," and Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston, the hero who afterwards fell at Shiloh, was promoted over Huston, and sent to take command of the army at Independence.
No two men could have been more unalike than Albert Sidney Johnston and Felix Huston, morally and physically. The former was a dark brunette with tawny colored eyes, dark and heavy brows, thick and rather coarse dark hair which easily stood erect; a firmly cut mouth and square chin indicating massive strength of character; he was nearly six feet in height, was taciturn, cold, proud and haughty in his outward bearing, but those who knew him best, loved him with devotion, and friends and foes alike entertained for him a proper respect. In the war of the Texas Revolution, that with Mexico, and the great Civil War, it was conceded without argument that he was a great man, and I believe that the appreciation was just. I did not know Johnston well, indeed I knew him very slightly, and I did not feel that I knew him at all. He was many years my senior and I looked up to him with awe. With Sam Houston, and Felix Huston, it was different—I did know Sam Houston well, and entertained for him a sentiment of devotion—I also felt as though I knew Felix Huston well, and was greatly attracted by his happy, dashing, daredevil style.
He was as fair as Johnston was dark and there was a slight cast in his blue gray eyes which rather added to than detracted from his general appearance; he was a rollicking cavalier, and would have been a fit mate for Hot Spur.
If I possessed ability of any kind it was as a soldier. I took to drill and military duties naturally; I had become first sergeant of my company, when one afternoon, Felix Huston had been maneuvering the command in evolutions of the line. We were standing at rest, when there came in sight a party of three or four horsemen. They proved to be the dark browned Albert Sidney Johnston and his staff, composed of Colonel Morehead, his assistant Adjutant General; Major Reed, I believe (for it was fifty two years ago as I write, 1888); and one or two others.
We had heard that Johnston was coming, to take command of the army, and as the party approached we felt certain that the new General had arrived. The two chieftains saluted each other with the most distinguished courtesy and after a few minutes conversation, General Johnston and his staff, accompanied by Major Ross and Captain Izard proceeded to a small cabin, the quarters assigned to Johnston and his staff, for there was not much style, and less of comfort, in that little camp on the LaBaca. I felt that a duel was imminent between these two chieftains, and I said to my brother, who stood on the right of his company— for it was before his promotion—"Tom, those men will fight"; "Tut, tut," he replied; "there is nothing to fight about. Did you not observe their courtesy to each other?"
"Yes"; I said; "but tomorrow morning those men will fight." It was a volunteer command and with Dr. Coates I messed with, and occupied my brother's quarters. The walls were made of unhewn logs, with a tent fly stretched over them. Early in the night Dr. Ezra Reed, a brother of Judge Nathan Reed of Cincinnati, called and borrowed from Dr. Coates a small case of surgical instruments, saying that he was about to amputate the finger of a man. When Dr. Reed was gone, I turned to my brother, and said: "Those instruments are for the duel tomorrow!" He was still incredulous, however, though Dr. Coates seemed to be quite serious. The next morning at "Reveille" while in the act of calling the roll of my company I heard in quick succession two pistol shots. I at once gave the order: "Break ranks; march!" and then shouted: "Boys; Johnston and Huston are fighting!" and we all ran for the river bank from whence the reports of the pistol shots came.
The combatants had crossed to the opposite side of the La Baca and were screened from our view by a belt of trees from whose branches in dense folds hung the long and gloomy gray Spanish Moss.
From whom I learned what had taken place I cannot now recall, but this is the story: "Huston invited Johnston and his aids to take supper with himself and staff. The invitation was accepted, and the evening passed away pleasantly with every evidence of cordiality; but scarcely had Johnston reached his quarters when he was waited upon by Major Ross with a challenge from Huston, who said in his note: "There is no man in Texas for whom I entertain a higher esteem, or under whom I would be more proud to serve, than General Johnston; but the President and Congress have done me a personal wrong, and it is impossible -for me to obtain from them personal satisfaction; therefore, I must ask General Johnston, as their representative, to name an hour, and a place, for a personal meeting,"
Johnston promptly replied, "General Johnston reciprocates the courteous sentiments expressed in the note of General Huston, and it will afford him pleasure to comply with his request. General Johnston refers General Huston to Colonel Morehouse as his friend."
Johnston as the challenged party had the choice of the grounds and weapons. He was not a duelist, but duelling was the common law of Texas, and there was but one man in the Republic who could and did refuse to fight a duel without losing caste—that man was Sam Houston. As a young man he had fought his duel, and brought down his antagonist, and his superb form bore the scars of four wounds received in battle.
Johnston was not only not a duelist, but he had never pulled the hair trigger. On the other hand Felix Huston was an expert with the pistol, and his own weapons were the only dueling pistols, strange to say, in that camp.
Morehouse urged Johnston to choose the rifle, with which he was a good shot; but Johnston declined to do so on the ground that the pistol and the sword were the recognized weapons of the duello.
Huston not to be outdone in chivalry, proposed, through Ross, his second, to equalize the contest as far as possible, that each combatant should hold his pistol with his arm extended to its full length, the elbow pressed against the hip where it was to remain and at the word the antagonists were to raise the forearm to a level with the elbow and fire in that position and so it was done. Huston knew that the spring of one of his pistols was weak and liable to miss fire, he therefore insisted on using that one himself. At the first fire Johnston's ball cut a twig which fell at Huston's feet. He picked up the twig and bowing to Johnston said: "A capital shot, General."
"Not so good as yours, sir"; replied Johnston running his finger through a bullet hole in the lapel of his coat. In the second exchange of shots, Johnston's ball struck the ground but a few paces in front of him, and Huston's pistol missed fire. For a few moments the fight was suspended while Huston whittled a twig into a wedge with which he braced the weakened spring.
The seconds now proceeded to reload the pistols, when Huston observing a flaw in the bullet which was to be shot at him, quietly said: "Excuse me, Colonel Morehouse, but there is a flaw in your ball," and drawing a perfect one from his pocket, said, "Here, take this one." The third shot was without result; but at the fourth fire Johnston fell dangerously wounded. He raised himself on his elbow and said: "Gentlemen, I call upon you to witness that this duel has been fairly fought."
Johnston was borne on a litter to his quarters and Huston remained anxiously watching by his bedside for twenty four hours, without leaving him for a moment.
Johnston instead of having presented his side as a target for Huston's pistol, must have squarely shown his full front, for the Lullet struck him in front, near the hip, and was cut out on the opposite side.
Never was there a more chivalrous duel and never did braver men confront each other on the field of honor. But a dark cloud has ever hung over the affair.
Early on the morning of the fight, whiskey made its appearance in the camp, and kettles filled with it were passed from tent to tent. Where it came from I do not know. I not only believe, however, but I am morally certain that Felix Huston was wholly ignorant of the fact. Nevertheless had Huston been killed, and Johnston survived the encounter, the latter would never have lived long enough to die at Shiloh; and the chances are that this narrative would never have been written, for my gallant brother and his men would have stood by Johnston and I would have died or lived with them.
So deep was the abhorrence of the contemplated treason, that strange as it may appear, no one alluded to it and now for the first time in all these years I refer to the fact. I have never heard it mentioned but once and that only a few years ago, when Jacob Sappington, a member of my brother's company, who then did, and may now, reside near Danville, Indiana, with his grandson, made me a visit at my home. He told me that it was the first time since the dark transaction that he had ever spoken of it, and he did so, in a very few, solemn words.
Within two or three months after the Johnston-Houston duel, mutiny again broke out in that Texas camp. My brother had the good or evil fortune to be captain of the guard on the night of the rescue of the mutineers, who had been arrested, and were in irons in the guard house.
Not long before, on a black and tempestuous night, when the roar of each thunder peal had sounded like the discharge of a park of Artillery—Colonel Teal, of the Regulars, was murdered in his tent. On the day preceding that night, Colonel William Cook, universally esteemed as one of the best citizens of Texas, arrived at the camp, and became the guest of Colonel Teal, who insisted on Cook's occupying his narrow cot, while he, Teal, wanted to sleep upon his Buffalo robe spread on the ground. Teal was the senior, and Cook refused to accept the courtesy, and by doing so saved his own life.
Some time during the night, while the storm raged, the hour and the name of the assassin have never been revealed—the murderer stole to the side of Teal's tent and taking advantage of a flash of lightning which revealed Teal's couch, fired, lodging a bullet and several buckshot in Teal's body. The noise of the discharge of the musket, and the rumbling of the thunder, were so blended, that it was not until the next morning when Cook awoke, that he became aware of the fact that his host was dead. Several arrests were made. My brother was captain of the guard. The mutineers—several hundred strong—went to the guard house and demanded the release of the prisoners. Captain Morgan addressed them in an earnest manner, appealed to them as comrades and good soldiers, to return to their quarters. He warned them that if they attempted to force the guard house he would fire upon them, let the cost be what it might.
The mutineers were brave men who had, little by little, become demoralized by the speeches of Felix Huston—the want of pay— the want of rations—and the want of comfortable quarters. They lived on beef, tobacco, and coffee. Above all they needed an enemy to fight. As I have said, these mutineers were brave men, and would have proved themselves heroes in the face of an enemy. They admired pluck—so they cheered Captain Morgan and dispersed. The threatened storm seemed to have passed over. But later in the night the whole camp turned out howling like so many tigers, where they found the guard under arms with Captain Morgan at their head, determined to resist the mob to the death. The officer of the day arrived on the scene and seeing that resistance would be futile he ordered Captain Morgan to dismiss the guard. The mutineers cut the irons from the mutineers' limbs and released them.
Now that the mutineers had succeeded in their unlawful attempt to free their comrades, quiet, but not discipline, pervaded the camp. One of the results of the uprising was that my brother was promoted to the rank of Major; and shortly afterwards Sam Houston made one of his master strokes of policy. He gave an indefinite furlough to the whole volunteer army. The Mexicans had not dared to cross the Rio Grande and there was no immediate prospect of an active campaign. Naturally the volunteers hailed the announcement of the furlough with delight.
Shortly after the foregoing stirring incidents had occurred, I received an order to report at the office of the Secretary of War. The serious wound of General Johnston confined him to his bed. He wished his thoroughbred horse to be sent to a Mr. Bell, a planter who resided near the Capitol and I was instructed to ride the noble animal to that point. My brother accompanied me as far as "Menefee's," where we stayed all night. Frontier hospitality in all civilized countries is well known, and no more hospitable people lived than the planters of Texas. Supper was a home made meal, which means that it was excellent, and to us it was luxurious after the rough fare of the camp.
In the bed room there was no carpet but the floor was clean enough to spread a feast upon. In one corner lay a buffalo robe and on the opposite side of the chamber was a bedstead adorned with pillows and sheets as white as snow, all of which was surmounted by a thick feather bed. Everything suggested comfort and repose.
It was in the month of February. We sat by the fire chatting for an hour or two and then turned in. The soft bed yielded beneath our weight and every time we turned over it seemed as though we were going to fall through. We tried to sleep, but each felt that the other was awake. Finally my brother said: "George, are you asleep?" I replied: "I can't sleep—what is the matter?" He answered, "The feathers; lets try the Buffalo robe." Up we got—spread the robe on the hard floor, drew a quilt over us and in a few seconds we were sound asleep.
The next morning immediately after breakfast my brother started on his return to the camp and I set out for Columbia. There was no road leading over the "Grand Prairie"; such was its name, and such it was in fact; and I do not know how far I had ridden, nor can I tell now the distance from "Menefee's," on the Navadad to Bell's Landing, on the Brazos; but this I do know, I got lost on the boundless prairie which seemed without limit. Fortune would have it so—I came across a herd of deer, and left the trail. So tame were the deer that I approached within twenty paces of them before they noticed my presence. A noble buck with spreading antlers turned his head and seemed to inquire what I wanted. I touched the horse so as to get still nearer when the herd started to move away. General Johnston's pistols were in his holsters—I fired and missed the whole herd, which scampered away with me in hot pursuit.
After a time I bethought me that I had better return to the trail, and I checked my horse, and looked and searched for it in vain. The trail was gone, and I was like bark upon the waters of a mighty sea without a compass. I was but a boy, and nothing daunted pressed on over the pathless prairie in the direction I supposed I ought to follow; at length I came to a clump of trees, dismounted and removing the saddle and bridle, picketed the noble steed.
Some one had been there not long before my advance; for there was the remains of a little fire—the ashes were not yet cold. A small supply of Flour had reached the camp a few days before I had started on my journey, and without yeast or rising of any kind, I had tried to make myself a few light cakes, whose component parts were flour and water. These I now tried to masticate, but finding that I could make no headway against them I wet them with water from my canteen and thus somewhat softened I fed them to the horse.
I was a green campaigner in those days or I should have baked some meat to guard against the chances of such a journey. I was tired, hungry, and afraid to kindle a fire, lest the smoke should attract unwelcome visitors. I looked to see that the flints and priming of my pistols was all right, and folding my blanket around me, with the saddle for a pillow, I was soon lost in a deep sleep and was only awakened at dawn by the neighing of the horse. I sprang to my feet, now really hungry—anxious—and for the first time fully realizing that I was entirely alone. The horse, a Kentucky thoroughbred, acted as though he comprehended the situation. He had been refreshed by the heavy dew on the thick prairie grass, and was in better condition than his rider. Mounted again, I rode beyond the little island of timber and examined the waste in order to determine the direction I was to take. I looked at the sun and rode in the direction from which it came and began also to carefully scan the prairie. I believe that the horse knew I was lost for he would steadily stare as if in search of trail or road, and then turn his head and look at me. On and on I rode, now and then moistening my lips from the canteen. A feeling of awe came over me—and I was so hungry. It took an immense deal in those days to depress or daunt me, but the immense deal was upon me—However, I pressed onward always keeping on the left side of that wild flower garden which reached away and away into the dim distance. At last I spied a dark speck far off on the bosom of the prairie. Without being able to discern whether it was White man, Red man, Beast or Devil, I determined to speak it, and galloped until the speck grew larger and larger, until at length it took on the outlines of a wagon with two mules picketed near by. Uttering a shout of gladness, I rushed toward them and a man aroused by the noise, got up from the ground, stood erect, and looked at me.
I was soon beside him. I believe that he looked more woe begone than I felt. It was Captain McFarland, who commanded the Battery at "Camp Independence." He had left camp a day before I did, and he, too, was lost. We shook hands and told each other who we were, for although we had lived in the same camp we had never come into personal contact before.
I relieved the horse of his saddle and let him graze, for without food or rest, we had traveled all that day until late in the afternoon. We threw ourselves on the grass, both hungry, both weary, both glad to hear a human voice again.
After an hour's rest the Captain and I determined on the direction we would take, and side by side we moved onward over the prairie.
I do not know how far we had traveled when Captain McFarland suddenly exclaimed: "Yonder is a stream!" Away in front of us was the dark straight line of timber always to be found on the banks of the water courses of Texas. We now had an object to guide us, and at length reached the river. Should we follow it up or down? We decided to go up, but could find no ford. We were about to despair of finding one before morning, when we heard the barking of a dog, a most welcome sound, as it gave promise of a crossing and a house. A bridge was reached—we crossed—and were most kindly welcomed by Mr. Elam, a planter, who lived on the banks of "Caney Creek." We were as hungry as wolves, and the supper placed before us would have tempted the sated appetite of a gourmond—Broiled chicken—Hot coffee, and biscuits, with rich milk and golden butter—and afterwards a comfortable bed.
The next morning we set out for "Columbia," where we arrived without further adventure. Captain McFarland went to a hotel and we never met again. I went to the plantation of Mr. Bell, where I was instructed to leave General Johnston's horse.
General Houston and his cabinet were stopping at Mr. Bell's place. I told Mr. Bell that I would like to stop there, too, while I was compelled to remain at Columbia, but he said it would be impossible as he "did not have a vacant bed in his house"—"All right," I replied; "but assuredly you can entertain me at supper— I wish to see the President."
After a time President Houston came in accompanied by J. Pinckney Henderson, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and the other members of his cabinet all able men. The President asked me where I was stopping; I replied: that I desired to stop with Mr. Bell, but that he had informed me that every bed in the house was occupied. At this answer he smiled, and turning to his private secretary a handsome gentlemanly looking man, who had had the misfortune to kill his opponent in a duel in Alabama, and asked him if he could not take me for a bed fellow for a few nights, which he kindly consented to do.
The next morning I called at the War Office and reported to Colonel Hockley, the Secretary of War, who informed me that I would receive my orders in a few days.
I called at the Executive Office several times, President Houston always received me in a most kindly manner. I recollected afterwards that often he looked at me earnestly and seemed interested in my conversation. It never occurred to me that I was only a boy of sixteen, and was in communication with men of great ability and high public trust.
One day, it was at supper, the President turned to me and said: "Young Gentleman, we want to send dispatches to the Government at Washington. A vessel is about to sail from Galveston for New York, would you not like to bear them?"
"No sir!" I replied; "I came to Texas to be a soldier, and wish no other employment,"
"Well sir," he said with a kindly smile; "You shall have your wish—you shall be a soldier."
The next morning when I went to breakfast I found a formidable looking document on my plate addressed to "George W. Morgan, Second Lieutenant of Artillery." Without ceremony I broke open the envelope and found my commission, also order to proceed to "Bell's Landing," take charge of some recruits, and proceed to Velasco, where an additional number of men would be turned over to me by Captain Snell of that post, when, with my command, I was to continue on to Fort Travis on Galveston Island.
I fear I did not thank the President for my promotion, but took it as a matter of course—and yet—I could not have behaved very badly, for ever afterwards Sam Houston remained my friend"
General Morgan's narrative breaks off abruptly at this point and the writer will have to insert extracts from other fragments so as to continue the story of this most adventurous life.
It seems that a mutinous epidemic broke out in the Army of the Republic which spread to every post in Texas. After the affair at Camp Independence, "Velasco" next suffered; Lieut. Sprowl joined the mutineers and was shot and instantly killed by Captain Snell, commanding the garrison. There were two companies at Galveston under the command of Lieut. Col. Lynch, the disease next attacked them. The men had never been paid, for Texas had no money. The soldiers had no proper food, having lived on fresh fish for three weeks at a time; their clothing was in rags. These privations combined with inaction, caused the demoralization of the army.
Lieutenant Berth, who had been a Seargent in the United States Army, was Adjutant of the Post. He was as cold and precise as a machine, and the soldiers detested him. He received a warning not to sleep in his quarters, and that night a shell exploded under his bed, blowing it to pieces. Berth at the time lay concealed in the high grass—the next day he fled from the Island.
Adam Glendenen, young Morgan's Captain, was very unpopular. He was young, haughty, and brave. A note was sent to him demanding that he leave the Island. He treated it with contempt. The next night while Glendenen and Morgan were in their quarters, built of sand sod, knotted together by the roots of grass, Herculano, a Mexican servant, came running in, exclaiming, "The soldiers! The soldiers!"
Seizing their swords the young officers rushed out and found three soldiers loading a cannon which was pointed at their sand-sod but, and not fifteen paces from it. They rushed toward the gun, and the would be assassins took flight in the tall prairie grass and disappeared. The officers spiked the gun, and left it standing where it was.
The next morning while Glendenen and Morgan were at breakfast, the report of a musket was heard, and a ball crashed through the wooden slats of a window in front of the table at which they were seated. A prompt but fruitless search was made. They returned to breakfast and consulted as to what was best to be done. It was decided that Glendenen should apply for orders to proceed to Houston, and report the condition of affairs at the War Department.
He had made but one step outside of the door, when again the crack of a gun was heard, and a bullet whistled close to his head. He took the first boat for Houston.
First Lieutenant Beaumont resigned, and Morgan was left in command of the company. A committee of three, composed of First Lieutenant Agnew, a half breed Indian named Smith, and another, called on Morgan to assure him that he had nothing to fear if he did not interfere. The boy replied: "That it was their place to obey his orders, not to give them; that he was in command of the company by the authority of his commission and would do his duty—"
The military routine went on as usual, but the mutineers were in frequent consultation. The day and night passed quietly, but towards morning Morgan was awakened by Ordnance Sergeant Keogh who told him that Smith was the ring-leader of the mutiny: that he was trying to persuade the men to kill the remaining officers, seize a "Brig" then lying in the bay, and put to sea. He also told Morgan, that in the coming night, a general consultation was to be held in the street formed by the huts of his company. That ten of his men and Sergeant Grover remained true, but feigned to sympathize with the mutineers. By prearrangement these men were detailed for guard duty, with Morgan as Officer of the Day.
The new Guard was mounted, the day passed and unusual quiet reigned over the camp. At night Morgan directed the faithful Herculano to conceal himself in the grass and watch the mutineers. Toward midnight he crept to Morgan's quarters and informed him that they were assembling. The Mexican was sent with written orders to Sergent Grover to meet Morgan with his men in the rear of the Company Quarters. The tall grass concealed their approach—their muskets were loaded with buck-shot—the guard noiselessly filed between the huts. The mutineers stood with their backs turned towards them. The surprise was complete. Morgan had cautioned the guard not to fire unless he gave the order.
Suddenly he commanded; "Make ready!"—The half breed endeavored to draw a heavy "blunderbuss" pistol but was instantly struck over the head and knocked senseless by the butt of Grover's musket. Morgan then told the men that he believed only seven of them were to blame and calling their names, ordered them to step to the front, or he would fire upon them. They came forward, were ironed, and marched to the guard house. The rest were ordered to their quarters. The surprise—the fall of Smith—the sense of guilt—and the chance of being regarded as innocent—demoralized them.
In the meantime Captain Glendennin had not been idle. He gathered a number of officers in Houston, who had been recently furloughed, and a number of citizens, who were keen for pay. They took a steamer and reached Galveston the night following the arrest of the ringleaders. It was well they came. Towards the morning of the preceding night, the mutineers had regained their courage by force of numbers—had overawed the guard, and liberated the prisoners. When Glendenen's reinforcements landed the mutineers retired to their quarters. On the beach, near Colonel Lynch's quarters, were two heavy guns, which he now turned towards the barracks and ordered the men to parade. The order was obeyed, and the ringleaders were returned to the guard house.
Ten minutes afterwards Colonel Lynch by Surgeon Shepard sent a challenge to Captain Clendenen. It had been reported to Lynch that Clendenen had made serious reflections upon his conduct at Houston. The challenge was peremptory—and was instantly accepted, the duel to take place immediately after the adjournment of the Court Martial which was to assemble at once to try the mutineers. Lynch was President of the Court, Clendenen was a member thereof, and Morgan, as the junior officer was appointed Judge Advocate.
The Court assembled—the accused were jointly tried and found guilty. The Court considered all the circumstances in mitigation, and the sentence was lenient ;—"All pay, and one thousand, two hundred and eighty acres of bounty land was forfeited, and the mutineers were dishonorably discharged, banished from the island and warned never to return."
Colonel Lynch and Captain Clendenen proceeded from the court to the beach, and while Lieutenant Morgan was writing up the proceedings of the Court, he heard the reports of the pistols of the combatants. The principals, at the word, wheeled and fired. Clendenen was struck in the side, but the ball glancing from a button, the wound was, fortunately, only slight. Lieutenant Morgan was immediately promoted to a first lieutenancy and on the reorganization of the army under President Lamar, he was made a captain in the first regiment of regular Infantry—Colonel Burleson—and at eighteen years of age he commanded the important Post of Galveston.
George Morgan enlisted as a private in the Army of Texas on September 6, 1836, and resigned his commission as a Captain of Artillery on September 6, 1839. He was then nearly nineteen years of age. Returning to the United States he entered the Military Academy at West Point as a cadet. The position must have been a trying one for a man who had already commanded an important military Post. He stood the ordeal for two years, when owing to an unfortunate misunderstanding with one of the Civilian Professors, he refused to speak to or have anything to do with him, consequently he declined to answer his questions with the natural result, that he was forced to resign. Too proud to go home, he supported himself by taking any employment he could find in various towns in Pennsylvania and Ohio. In one place he was a clerk in the Post Office, and in another did night work, while he studied law during the day.
Letter from Sam Houston
Columbia, Texas, 31st January, 1837. Dear Madam:
Since I had the pleasure to address you last, I have visited the Army and met with your noble sons, and I really think if asked for your jewels you might well give the answer of Cornelia and point to your boys.
I was much pleased with both, but felt a peculiar interest in George he being so young an adventurer in our cause. Their standing in the Army is very high and they bear the stamp of worth, honor and valour upon their manly features. The indications of their future usefulness and distinction are as palpable as any I have ever met with. The Army was in fine health and improving in discipline daily. The troops at this time have abundant supplies and so far as we can learn the enemy are not yet on the advance.
The consequences of Santa Anna's release, can not be calculated, as we are not advised of the state of Partisan Mexico. All direct intercourse with the frontiers is cut off, and we generally receive news by way of New Orleans.
Up to this time we only know by rumour of the arrival of General Santa Anna at Washington without learning whether anything was effected by him there.
The necessary (Special) of General Jackson has been received and we are at a loss in Texas to know what course matters will take or in what attitude we are to stand to the U. States or the world generally. We hope a pleasant one when our claims of recognition, at least, are acted upon.
I have not remarked to you, Madam, the strong resemblance of Captain Morgan to his grandfather Colonel Duane whose friendship I had the pleasure to share in former times and whose merits I so highly valued.
When I left Camp I requested your sons to write to me.
Be so kind, if you please Madam, as to make my salutations to Mr. Morgan and your family. Whenever my leisure will permit it will afford me pleasure to write to you.
I am very truly your obliged servant and friend SAM HOUSTON. Mrs. Catherine Duane Morgan.
In another fragment of a manuscript, General Morgan says: "In 1852 Sam Houston was a United States Senator from Texas. My brother William Duane Morgan was at the time Auditor of the State of Ohio and resided at Columbus. It was our joint wish that Houston should be made the next Democratic candidate for President. We arranged receptions for him at Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, Dayton, Newark, and Mount Vernon—my home.
His passage through the State was a triumphal march. Vast crowds assembled to welcome him. He was escorted by committees sent forward from each of the cities where he was to stop. He was made the guest of the State, and insisted that I should accompany him on the tour. Ladies and citizens of all parties called to greet him. Nowhere was the demonstration more marked than at Cincinnati. The "Burnett" house was constantly thronged with prominent citizens, and the ovation tended him that night was grand. After the Oration he was escorted back to the hotel by a host of admirers and he and they were alike gratified.
We had adjoining rooms at the hotel, with a door opening between them, and when left alone for the first time, I spoke to him of the Presidency. The subject had evidently been previously suggested to him by letters. After listening attentively to me, he said: "George, the South Carolinians would never permit my nomination. They want disunion, and know that I am for the Union"—By South Carolinians he meant the Calhoun element throughout the South which was strong in numbers and composed of able men.
I then named the States that I thought he could certainly carry, but he replied: "National Conventions have become worse than the caucus system and my nomination would be impossible. If there was any chance for it I would be willing to run as Jackson, Clay, Crawford and Adams did in 1824. Now remember what I say: If two more National Conventions are held after this year; there will be a bold attempt made to dissolve the Union. It will first be necessary for the Calhoun men to disrupt the Democratic party—and probably there will be civil war."
Although Seward had proclaimed that the question of slavery was "irrepressible" and a small number of men in the North advocated abolition by force of arms, and we all talked more or less of the danger of dissolution, but few in the North and West believed that war would follow. I was one of those who regarded such a thing as impossible. But his words were prophetic ! Two more National Conventions were held. At the one in Charleston (1860) the Democratic party was fatally divided for a time, and on the 14th of April in the following year the first gun was fired at the National flag and civil war burst upon the land. At that time Sam Houston, who had been twice President of the Republic of Texas, was Governor of that State. He was deposed from his office by the secessionists for the reason that he was friend of the Union. But to-day, no name save that of Washington is so loved and revered in Texas as that of Sam Houston, and in the very Capitol in which he had been deposed, there to-day stands a superb marble statue in perpetuation of his memory, and also of the glory and magnanimity of that great commonwealth.
How to cite:
Asbury, Samuel E., "EXTRACTS FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF GENERAL GEORGE W. MORGAN ", Volume 030, Number 3, Southwestern Historical Quarterly Online, Page 178 - 205. http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/publications/journals/shq/online/v030/n3/article_4.html
[Accessed Thu Dec 4 12:34:02 CST 2008]
