Wednesday, October 13, 1847.—This morning most all of our men were busy in killing hogs, turkeys and chickens, which we captured in our charge through the city yesterday; others were still out, plundering the deserted houses, which they continued to do until the dragoons were sent out to stop them.
Many houses have still the white flags hanging out of their windows for protection. Flags are flying out of the very houses from which the enemy used to fire at us only a few days ago; probably they have become reconciled.
I noticed that pieces of artillery have been placed in several streets, so as to rake and scatter the enemy, should they attempt any further hostilities, but there is not much danger of their troubling us much more, as we have them just where we want them, except the guerillas, who will no doubt, take advantage of the soldiers who may be straggling through the city alone.
To-day for the first time, we were informed of the sad intelligence of the death of Capt. Samuel H. Walker.
This distinguished partisan chief, the thunderboldt of the Texan rangers, fell mortally wounded at the battle of Huamantla, on the eighth instant, and expired in a few minutes. His last words to his men are worthy of his fame and heroic career, they were: "My brave comrades, I have at last run my race, my command over you will soon cease, yes, I hear the summons, but never mind me, maintain your ground firmly, don't yield an inch, and do as your commander did, fight until you die." And with a wave of his trembling hand he bade them "good-bye, and may God protect you all in this cause."
His colored servant Sam (so-called), stood by him and fanned his fevered brow, he took it very hard and cried like a child. Sam thought the world of his master, in fact, the whole company thought a great deal of Sam, as he was with Capt. Walker in all his skirmishes and adventures in Mexico.
