Elections in Texas—Feuds and shooting affrays—Family pride—Local Prohibition.

Elections used to be exciting events in Uvalde, Texas, during the first few years I was there, as the Mexican vote controlled the county, and the rival candidates used to give dances for them, where there was plenty of liquor and cigars. But for the past few years this has all been stopped, as the Mexican vote has fallen to practically nothing, owing to a law that was passed by which every voter had to show his poll tax receipt when registering, and a Mexican will die sooner than pay poll tax—in fact will never pay any tax if he can get out of it. In order to stop the candidates (in a close election) paying the tax for them, the law said that the receipt must be dated at least six months before the election. It is curious in the States how in certain localities certain nationalities control the elections; in some places it is the negro vote, in others, the Mexican, or it may be the German vote. I heard of an election once for county officers in a county where Swedes predominated, where all the officers on the 139list but the sheriff were named Oleson or Paulson or other such name, but the sheriff’s name was Brown. A visitor said, “I see that all your county officers but the sheriff have Swedish names; his sounds American.” “Yes,” was the answer, “they are all Swedes but him, and we only put him up to catch the American vote.” I know towns in South-west Texas where one will not hear a word of any language but German spoken from dawn to dark, unless one does not happen to know the language and they have to address you, when they will speak English. Yet all the Germans there were born in Texas and never saw their native land. The trouble with these Mexican voters is that they will promise you anything while at your dance drinking your liquor; but they promise the same to the other man at his dance; so you never can tell what they will do at the polls, unless you have them under your thumb as we had them at the mines. For instance, we, for years, only employed Mexicans who brought us a paper from Henry Burns the sheriff, saying they were all right (meaning they would vote for him); yet later, when I was in charge of the mines and was fighting against Henry’s election, these same men, with only one exception, voted against Henry under instructions from me.

It was at one of these elections that the son of the 140county clerk (before mentioned as a “periodical”) and Henry Burns’ son John met in the Horseshoe saloon in Uvalde. After a few words the clerk’s son pulled a knife, bent John Burns over the bar, and tried to kill him, in revenge for the supposed killing of his father by the orders of Henry Burns. Luckily, the knife struck the brass support of the bar-rail and the blade broke half-way up, and at the same time one of Henry’s deputies tried to get the boy off John by stunning him from behind with brass knuckles. The boy had grit, however, and while his own head was being cut open with the knuckles he was doing all he could for John with the stub of his knife, and they were both a sight to see for weeks after. Henry himself, when a boy, was the cause of starting the big feud which kept Uvalde stirred up for quite a while. It started in a fist fight between him and young Gilchrist in the Uvalde camp yard.

Gilchrist’s father and uncle were there cheering their boy on. When he finally got Henry down they were so worked up they were calling to their boy to kill Henry. The old man was dancing round, holloaing, “Kill him, Bud, kill him,” when Henry Burns’ father (who had been a general in the confederate army) came out of Piper’s store. He took in the situation at a glance, and, whipping out a bowie-knife, he ran at the 141elder Gilchrist and with one stroke cut him almost in two. The uncle and son made their escape for the time being and the feud was on.

One incident of this trouble seemed to me characteristic of the grit and coolness of these men. One member of the Gilchrist faction (a man considerably over sixty) was upstairs in the old Uvalde Hotel when Henry Burns passed and stopped to speak to some one under the balcony.

The old man picked up his shot gun and, leaning over the balcony with the muzzle of the gun about six feet from Henry’s head, pulled both triggers. The gun missed fire, but Henry hearing the clicks whirled round, and had the old man covered before he could move. He held him so for a few moments, then he said, “I ought to kill you, you old scoundrel, but I guess I will let you off this time.” Then he turned and walked off.

On another occasion a deputy-sheriff, who was on the Burns’ side, had arrested one of the opposite faction for being drunk and disorderly. He had taken him by surprise, disarmed him, and was escorting him to jail. On the way to the lock-up, the boy (for he was nothing but a lad), feeling keenly the disgrace of being so arrested without fight, taunted the officer with taking him by surprise. He told him that he dared not have 142arrested him in any other manner, and dared the officer to return his gun and then try and rearrest him. The officer was about to accept the challenge, when one of the boy’s friends rode up and warned the deputy. Said he, "The kid’s drunk, and has no show against you who are sober, so if you give him back his gun and then kill him, I will sure kill you." However, the deputy had been so annoyed by the boy’s taunts that he handed him his gun and the shooting commenced. Of course the boy was shot, but at the same time the man on the horse shot the deputy, and left town at a gallop.

A man who will receive a gun in this manner has no chance, even if sober, unless he is like lightning, because as his hand touches the butt the other man shoots. Not necessarily because he wishes to take any advantage of the other, but because he is all keyed up and shoots involuntarily the moment he sees the other man is armed: somewhat the same impulse that causes false starts in square............