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54 Written for Burke’s Weekly. J A C K DOBELL; Or, A Boys Adventures in Texas. A STORY FOR BOYS. CHAPTER I. TEXAS WAR OF INDEPENDENCE-ENLISTED AS A VOLUNTEER—SETTING OUT-GOING DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI—IN NEW ORLEANS-A NOR THER IN THE GULF OF MEXICO. the year 1835 the people gfeaam of Texas threw off the Mexican yoke, established a provisional government, and set np for an indepen dent nation under the influence of the colonists from the United States. At that time there were yft scarcely 30,000 from the United States, all told, in the colony; and, al though the Mexican government had been steadily encroaching upon the rights and privileges guaranteed the colonists for several years, I hardly think they would have rebelled against its authority, if they had not counted largely upon get ting; all the means and assistance that might be required to carry out their re volution successfully, from their friends and brethren in the United States. In this expectation they were not disap pointed. Hundreds of young men from every portion of the United States, armed and equipped at their own expense, has tened to the aid of the colonists, as soon as the standard of independence was raised. Among others, a company was organ ized for this purpose in the little village in Kentucky where I was born and rear ed, and although scarcely old enough for a soldier, being only in my seventeenth year, I determined to join it. But it was no aspiration for military fame that induced me to take this step. Among the regular visitors at fath er’s house, about this time, was an old friend of his who had traveled over the greater portion of Texas, and who after wards held a position in the cabinet of her first President; and insensibly an ar dent longing sprang up in my bosom to see for myself the “broad prairies,” the “beautiful streams,” and the vast herds of buffalo and wild horses, of which he had so often given me a glowing descrip tion. By joining this company of volun teers, I thought an opportunity would be afforded me of gratifying my desires that perhaps might never again offer itself, and so, in spite of the opposition of my relatives and friends, my name was added to the muster roll. I purchased now a good rifle, with the use of which I was already well acquaint- BURKE’S WEEKLY. i ed, shot pouch and powder horn, toma j hawk and hunting knife; and thus equip j ped, with my knapsack on my shoulders, I “fell into ranks,” and amidst the wav : ing of handkerchiefs, and the cheering of j bystanders, we bid adieu to our native | village, and started upon our long and weary journey to the “promised land of ! Texas.” It was in the latter part of November, and, though not very cold, the snow lay i some four or five inches deep upon the ground, which retarded our traveling so : much that we only made about twenty miles by sun-down, when we halted for the night upon one of the small streams that empty into the famous Salt river. We cleared away the snow from under some trees, built up log heaps for fires, and after preparing and eating our sup per of hot coffee and fried middling, for j which our tramp had given us excellent appetites, we spread our blankets upon ! the leaves and turned in for the night. The next morning we were upon the road by the time the sun had fairly risen, and about dusk, after a tiresome tramp ; through the snow and mud—for a thaw had set in—we reached the city of L , and took up our quarters at the G House. The next day, after purchasing a supply of provisions, enough to last us during the voyage, we embarked on the steamer W , bound for the city of New j Orleans. Nothing worthy of note occurred on the passage. Occasionally, by way of varying the monotony of our daily life, | we would go ashore when the boat land | ed for wood or freight, and get up an im ! promptu shooting match, in which the ; skill and dexterity of our Kentucky rifle ; men were exhibited, greatly to tho aston ishment of the “natives.” It was no un usual thing for many of them to put three balls out of five, off-hand, at the distance of a hundred yards, into a paper no lar ger than a silver dollar. The second day of our voyage, we left the snow and ice behind us, and on the fourth we came to the region of Spanish moss. The trees on both sides of the river were draped in its long black fune real folds, which, waving slowly back wards and forwards in the breeze, were | suggestive of anything but lively or plea sant thoughts. The next day we came to the “ coast,” a strip of country so called, extending along the Mississippi for more than a hundred miles above the city of New Orleans, it is protected from overflow by what are termed “ levees,” a sort of earth-work embankment thrown up on each side a few paces back from the margin of the river. These embankments, however, do not always afford complete protection during very high stages of the river. In one place wo noticed where the water had made a breach in the levee more than a hundred feet in width, through which it was rushing with the velocity of a mill race, and in such quantities as already to have inundated the country up and down the river upon that side as far as the eye could reach. From the time we struck the “ coast,” we experienced no more cold weather. Everywhere the forests were still green, and the orange and pomegranate trees were bending down with the weight of their luscious fruit. Here, too, we first observed fields of sugar cane and cotton plantations, in which gangs of negroes were seen bearing huge baskets filled with the snowy fleece, upon their woolly heads. The fifth day, about sundown, we reached New Orleans, fortunately just in time to secure our passage upon a schoon er that was to sail the next day for Ve lasco, a small port at the mouth of the Brazos river. In the morning, before the sailing of the schooner, I had an opportunity of seeing the city, of which you may be sure I made the most I could do. The im mense number of vessels moored in a long line to the wharves—the puffing of steam boats —the clatter of drays and carts— the noise and bustle on the levee, and the jargon of foreign tongues, were all calcu lated to fill with astonishment and won der the mind of a youth who had never before been beyond the precincts of his native village. Towards noon, wo embarked with all our goods and chattels on the schooner, and having made fast to a towboat, in company with two ships and a bark, we got underway and bade farewell to the Crescent City, whose tapering spires and forest of masts soon faded away and were lost in the distance. From New Orleans to the mouth of the Mississippi the scenery along the river is dreary and monotonous in the extreme. Low, swampy lands extended in an un broken level as far as the eye could reach, in some places entirely covered with wa ter, in others with a rank luxuriant growth of grass, amongst which cranes and other aquatic birds of a hundred dif ferent varieties could be seen silently standing in rows, or solemnly stalking about in search of the reptiles with which it abounded. Along the shores immense piles of drift wood were heaped up, amongst which the black head of an alli gator could occasionally be seen, which