All those conversant with the transactions of the above period, will remember that Gen. Houston, immediately after the battle of San Jacinto, went to New Orleans for surgical treatment of the severe wound received on that glorious field. In the meantime, our army, under General Rusk, after following the retreating Mexicans to Goliad, and seeing them safe beyond our borders, had retraced it's steps and encamped near Victoria on the Guadalupe.

Here it was left to the vote of the army, whether, or not, Santa Anna (then under guard at Columbia, on the Brazos,) should be "brought to camps," and "tried for the murder of Fannin, and his Georgia Battalion," at Goliad. To such a height of "vengeance" had the Mexican Dictator's wholesale butcheries excited our people, both citizens and soldiers, in and out of the army, that his conviction and execution were "foregone conclusions!" Consequently a large majority of the soldiers voted, that the captive President and Dictator, of a nation of 8,000,000 people, (in contravention of well known treaty stipulations) "should be brought" to their presence, and tried as a murderer.--And a company, under one Captain Hart, was immediately despatched to escort the "culprit" to the encampment. As the subject had, however, been for sometime canvassed through the country, the news (that our army was about sitting in one vast self-constituted military tribunal, for trial of the prisoner chief,) reached Houston's ears in the "Red Lands." General Houston, who, with the few dispassionate men in the Republic, regarded Santa Anna as a "prisoner of war," and entitled to the treatment guaranteed him as such by the solemn treaty after the battle of San Jacinto, was surprised and indignant at the course pursued by the army in his absence. He also knew full well, that if the Dictator's cruelties merited punishment, Texas and her cause would be forever ruined in the eyes of all enlightened nations, by meting out that punishment to him in the irregular manner before mentioned. Houston, therefore, on learning the steps taken by the army, immediately despatched a written protest against the high-handed proceedings, with a positive order that Santa Anna should still be "held a prisoner of war" at Columbia.

Never, in the writer's humble opinion, was Sam. Houston greater than on that occasion! Never did the hero and statesman, during his long and useful life, perform a more sagacious, humane, farsighted, and independent act than this, of counteracting the mob-like ferocity of our soldiers and citizens! Alone, he threw himself into the "imminent, deadly breach," in opposition to the fury of irresponsible thousands, excited to the highest pitch of "vengeance," by men, whose better feelings were, for the time, warped by the long borne cruelties of a semi-civilized foe! In fact, this act of Houston's stands out in "bold relief" the greatest of his many great deeds. It saved Texas; it saved many of her best and greatest sons from a train of life-long self-accusations; and it gave our Lone Star Republic that character abroad for chivalry in battle, and humanity in victory, which her citizen-soldiery have ever, to the present hour, preserved unsullied!

But in rendering this poor, yet well deserved tribute to the memory of Sam. Houston, the writer has almost lost sight of that which he sat down to pen

The company under Hart had been gone long enough to have reached Columbia, when Houston's missive arrived at headquarters. Rusk could not, if so disposed, disobey the orders of his superior, and the writer was immediately selected as bearer of the dispatches from Houston, countermanding all previous action in the premises, and ordering the retention of Santa Anna at Columbia. Starting about two hours before sundown, your humble servant rode rapidly on till dark, when a violent fever came on him.--Conscious, however, of the importance of the dispatches entrusted to his care, and relieved in some degree by the cool breeze wafted over the prairie from the Gulf, after a sultry June day, he contrived, by riding all night, to reach Columbia the next day at noon just in time. For the guards who were to convey Santa Anna to camps, with Captain William Patton, who had previously had charge of him, were in the act of sitting down to their last meal, before starting with the prisoner, as the writer rode up to the tavern. Patton, with whom the writer had become acquainted in 1835, was so overjoyed at the contents of the dispatches, that he would scarcely allow the fatigued bearer to take a little refreshment, ere introducing him and his glad tidings to the Mexican President, at his quarters above town. On the other hand, many of those who were sent to escort Santa Anna, to what would have been his last scene on earth, were correspondingly depressed and enraged at seeing the doomed culprit thus snatched from their clutches. Dinner over, the writer walked with Patton up to the quarters of the prisoner, where, after announcing the joyful news, he had the honor (if such it may be called) of a formal introduction to the ruler of the mongrel descendants of Montezuma, and the ablest tyrant that ever issued his inquisitorial edicts to that enslaved people.

Every thing had been put in readiness for a start to camps with the Mexican President, at three o'clock that afternoon. But trunks and valises were now unpacked; the farewells with his staff officers, and the last final injunctions to bosom friends were forgotten, and in the exuberance of his overjoyed soul, the "arbiter of a nation's destinies" would have clasped to his blood-surcharged bosom the humble instrument of his salvation !--if the latter had not counteracted the good intention by a dexterous "flank movement."

But to be serious. Never, in life, has the writer seen a mortal being, great or small, so bouyant from sheer joy, as was Santa Anna in his log hut that June evening, on the bank of the Brazos. Any one, however, conversant with humanity, in all its grades, would have inferred that such a man as the prisoner-President (a man who had in his eventful career alternately travelled the tortuous paths of adversity and prosperity) could have held his passions in restraint on any and all occasions, howsoever flattering they might be to his hopes. But the reader must bear in mind that (although yet surrounded by bayonets in the hands of guards, who, however, politely watched his every move) Santa Anna now saw the curtain that had so long shrouded the future from his gaze at once raised, and the haven ahead brightly lighted with the "lamp of liberty." It was to him like a reprieve under the gallows. The grave, first opened for him by Thomas Jefferson Green, and which had so long gaped ominously at his feet, was now closed. No wonder then that the "Napoleon of the West" gave way to the exuberance of his joy, and was "in great good humor with himself and all the world."

During the evening, until supper time, the now happy chieftiain talked incessantly. Through the medium of Dr. Phelps, and the polite Almonte, he asked the writer many questions; some of Gen. Houston, the prospect of his recovery; others of Gen. Rusk; the army; the productions of the country, etc., interlarding them with professions of his profound respect for the two Texas Generals, and for the chivalry and hospitality of our people generally; but not a word of those whom he regarded as the authors of his late troubles. After supper, which, by the way, was a good one, Santa Anna, with his private Secretary, Almonte, and one or two others of his staff, (I supposed,) Captain Patton, Dr. Phelps, and two or three other Texans, collected in the main apartment, for the purpose of making up some dispatches, which the former withheld, to forward to the President of the United States--Andrew Jackson.

What the particular points of those dispatches were, the writer cannot now say. But well he remembers that they were dictated by Santa Anna, whilst walking to and fro across the floor; that writing them consumed nearly the whole night; and that their chief purport was the soliciting the all-powerful intercession of Jackson in the "complicated" affairs of the contemporary--President of his "sister Republic." The writer, however, embraced the opportunity for studying Santa Anna, and forming his own opinions of the man whose bloody hand had brewed so many tears and sighs in Texas, and the country of his nativity. Here follow his conclusions; take them for what they are worth.

The Mexican President appeared to be about forty years of age; with not the smallest traces of dissipation, or hard usage; he was beneath medium size, with a large head, the back of which was remarkably prominent; black hair; "yellowish black eyes," rather deeply set, and restless; well drawn brows; high, perpendicular forehead; a firm, but not large mouth; white, even teeth; small feet and hands; with chin and throat somewhat "a la Byron;" with complexion "clear Castillian." His dress was black hose, pumps, tight fitting linen pants, and a "fatigue" round-about. All of which set off his rather small, but active looking and well knit form, to the best advantage. He wore no jewelry, save a set of gold buttons on the bosom of his fine needle worked shirt, which was left open at the throat. His manners were pleasant, and even condescending. To sum up, Santa Anna, at that day, was what the ladies would call a "handsome man," with nothing (save the form of the head, and the flashings of that restless eye,) to mark him the bloody monster his acts proclaim him.