But even this was denied him, and on the evening of July 19th, when the shadows began to gather and all nature was sinking to rest, they led him forth to execution.
With noble and commanding mien; with all his beauty and valor and social gifts; his smooth white brow, encircled with wavy light brown locks, now bared to meet the last decree of fate, the patriot stood undaunted, in Roman dignity. In clear tones he addressed these words to the soldiers: "Mexicans, in this last moment of my life I recommend to you the love of your country and the observances of our holy religion. I die for having come to aid you, and depart happy because I die among you. I die with honor, not as a traitor; that stain will not attach to my children and their descendants. Preserve order and be obedient to your commanders. From the bottom of my heart I forgive all my enemies." The officer came to bind his eyes, to which he objected, but being told that it was a necessary form, he unfalteringly bandaged his own eyes; then being requested to kneel, he did so, and the next instant received the fatal volley which terminated his brilliant and eventful life. His remains were buried in the dilapidated old church at Padilla, where they rested until 1838, when, with somewhat tardy justice and appreciation, an act of Congress was passed by which they were removed to the capital. They now rest in a stately tomb, in the great cathedral, with those of the noblest and best sons of Mexico. Here also lies Morelos, his old-time opponent. Cradled in the same city, their final resting-place is beneath the same dome.
On a tablet in the front wall of Iturbide's house I read the following inscription:
"On September 27, 1783.
Augustin de Iturbide,
The Liberator of Mexico,
Was born in this house.
Morelia, September 16, 1881."
The 16th of September, being the Mexican 4th of July, was a fit-
