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COLONEL CROCKETT, at the time of leaving Tennessee for Texas, made a promise to his friends that he would keep notes of what ever might occur to him of moment, with the ulterior view of laying his adventures before the public. He was encouraged in this undertaking by the favourable manner which his previous publications had been received: and if he had been spared throughout the Texian struggle, it cannot be doubted that he would have produced a work replete with interest, and such as would have been universally read. His plain and unpolished style may occasion ally offend the taste of those who are sticklers for classic refinement; while others will value it for that frankness and sincerity which is the best voucher for the truth of the facts he relates. The manuscript has not been altered since it came into the possession of the editor; though it is but proper to state that it had previously undergone a slight verbal revision; and the occasional interlineations were recognised to be in the handwriting of the Bee hunter, so frequently mentioned in the progress of the narrative. These corrections were doubtless made at the author's own request, and received his approbation.

This worthy and talented young man was well known in New Orleans. His parents were wealthy, he had received a liberal education, was the pride and soul of the circle in which he moved, but his destiny was suddenly overshadowed by an act in which he had no agency, but his proud father in a moment of anger turned his face upon him, and the romantic youth, with a wounded spirit, commenced the roving life which he had pursued with success for four or five years. His father recently found out the great injustice that had been done his proud spirited son, recalled him, and a reconciliation took place; but the young man had become enamoured of Texas, and a young woman at Nacogdoches, and had already selected a plantation in Austin's colony, on which he intended to have settled in the course of the coming year. The following letter will explain the manner in which the manuscript was preserved, and how it came into my possession: —

San Jacinto, May 3, 1836.

MY DEAR FRIEND, —

I write this from the town of Lynchburg, on the San Jacinto, to inform you that I am laid up in ordinary at this place, having been wounded in the right knee by a musket ball, in the glorious battle of the 20th ultimo. Having some friends residing here, I was anxious to get among them, for an invalid has not much chance of receiving proper attention from the army surgeons in the present state of affairs. I send you a literary curiosity, which I doubt not you will agree with me should be laid before the public. It is the journal of Colonel-Crockett, from the time of his leaving Tennessee up to the day preceding his untimely death at the Alamo. The manner of its preservation was somewhat singular. The Colonel was among the six who were found alive in the fort after the general massacre had ceased. General Castrillon, as you have already learned, was favourably impressed with his manly and courageous deportment, and interceded for his life, but in vain. After the fort had been ransacked, these papers were found in the Colonel's baggage, by the servant of Castrillon, who immediately carried them to his master. After the battle of San Jacinto, they were found in the baggage of Castrillon, and as I was by at the time, and recognised the manuscript, I secured it, and saved it from being cast away as worthless, or torn up cartridge paper. By way of beguiling the tedious hours of my illness, I have added a chapter, and brought down a history of the events to the present time. Most of the facts I have recorded, I gathered from Castrillon's servant, and other Mexican prisoners. The manuscript is at your service to do with as you please, but I should advise its publication, and should it be deemed necessary, you are at liberty to publish this letter also, by way of explanation.

With sincere esteem, your friend,

CHARLES T. BEALE.

To Alex. J. Dumas Esq., New Orleans.

The deep interest that has been taken, for several years past, in the sayings and doings of Colonel Crockett, has induced me to lay this last of his literary labours before the public, not doubting that it will be read with as much avidity as his former publications, though in consequence of the death of the author before he had revised the sheets for the press, it will necessarily be ushered into the world with many imperfections on its head, for which indulgence is craved by the public's obedient servant,

ALEX. J. DUMAS.

New Orleans, June, 1836