Chapter 16

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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN

OUR GUIDE COMPLAINS OF OUR RAPID PACE--HE LEAVES US--WE MEET CAPTAIN LOPEZ--OUR DOUBTS AS TO HIS OBJECT--IN A DESERTED HUT--WE MEET UNCLE RICHARD AND A BODY OF INFANTRY--WE TURN BACK WITH HIM--A RAPID STREAM-- FINDING A BRIDGE--THE SPANIARDS ADVANCING--A RUSH TO GAIN THE BRIDGE--WE REACH IT FIRST--A FIGHT--THE SPANIARDS DEFEATED--NO PRISONERS TAKEN--WE APPROACH THE FORT--CAPTAIN LAFFAN AND I RIDE ON TO RECONNOITRE--SIGNS OF DISASTER--OUR MEN FIRE--A FLOCK OF GALENACHAS RISES FROM THE FORT, WHICH APPEARS IN RUINS--DEAD BODIES SCATTERED ABOUT--DISCOVERY OF THAT OF JUAN--WE RAISE A TOMB OVER HIS GRAVE--THE ARMY OF BOLIVAR--DESCRIPTION OF THE GENERAL--TREACHERY OF COLONEL LOPEZ--ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE BOLIVAR--NUMEROUS ENGAGEMENTS--PRAISE FROM THE GENERAL--MY RETURN HOME-- AN INTERVIEW WITH DONA DOLORES--SHE JOINS THE ARMY--WAR THE GREATEST CURSE THAT CAN AFFLICT A COUNTRY--CONCLUSION.

We endeavoured to make up for lost time by galloping as fast as our horses would go, whenever the ground would admit of our doing so. Every moment might be of consequence. Should the Spaniards again attack the fort, we knew too well that our friends would have a hard matter to hold it. Our guide frequently exclaimed that we should knock up our steeds, or bring them to the ground.

"Never fear, my friend," said Mr Laffan; "if we do, we must pick ourselves up again."

"But your bones, senors, your bones; you will break them or your necks," murmured our guide.

"Never mind--we must do the best we can; you don't know what we Englishmen are made of," said Mr Laffan.

"But I may break my neck, and then what will become of my poor Margarida?" cried our guide.

"We will do our best to console her, and find her another husband. On, on!" cried Mr Laffan.

In vain were all the expostulations of our guide. The dominie lashed his little steed, and up hill and down dale we kept on. Probably Tomaso would have left us to pursue our course alone and find our own way, had not my friend wisely kept back a portion of the price of the horse, lest such a trick might be played us. At last Tomaso pointed out what he called the highroad, and assured us that by keeping straight on we should in time reach the Patriot camp. How far off it was, however, he did not say. He now begged hard for the sum we owed him.

"Here it is, my friend; you have well earned it, I own," said Mr Laffan, handing him the amount.

He was profuse in his expressions of gratitude. "A fortunate journey to you, caballeros; and may the Patriot cause prove triumphant," he added, as, making a low bow, he turned his horse's head and rode back the way we had come.

We had not got far when we saw a horseman galloping in hot haste towards us; by his dress and accoutrements we knew him to be an officer. As he got nearer I recognised him to be Captain Lopez. He pulled up, and began to address us before he recognised either of us.

"Can you tell me, caballeros, if a division of the Spanish forces is stationed anywhere in the neighbourhood? I am told that such is the case."

"And what object, Captain Lopez, have you for wishing to know where to find the Spanish forces?" asked Captain Laffan, looking sternly at him. "Surely you are not going to desert to them!"

Captain Lopez now recognised us, and looked very much confused. He answered--

"No; desert to them, no! I am not a deserter, but I wish to ascertain their whereabouts, that the Patriots, who are advancing in this direction, may be prepared to encounter them."

Captain Laffan looked incredulous, but simply asked--

"Whereabouts are we likely to find the Patriots, as we wish to join them without delay, and possibly can give them the information you are going to obtain?"

I remarked that he said nothing about Juan, or that our object was to bring him assistance. Captain Lopez, however, inquired where Juan's troop had gone, observing that it was supposed he had joined Bolivar. Whether he really knew the true state of the case, I could not tell.

Captain Laffan was as reticent as at first. "Now, Captain Lopez, we must not delay; we possess all the information you wish to gain, and I would advise you to turn back with us, or you may chance to fall into the hands of the enemy."

In answer to this remark Captain Lopez made several excuses, and at last said, "I'll ride on for a short distance, and then follow you back. Farewell, senors, for a short time;" and he continued his course in the direction he was before going.

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Captain Laffan as we galloped on; "I am very sure that he is on no good errand. We should have served the cause by shooting him."

We had very little time to make remarks, as we had generally to ride one before the other, but our suspicions of the object Captain Lopez had in view made it more important than ever that we should reach the Patriots without delay, and hurry them on to the succour of Don Juan and his hard pressed garrison.

Another night arrived, and we were still unable to ascertain how far off the Patriots were encamped. Had our horses been able to move, we should, in spite of the dangers of the road, have pushed on in the dark. There was just light enough for us to discover a deserted hut. At the back was a garden overgrown with grass, into which we turned our horses. A well in one corner supplied them with water, and we were sure that they would not wish to stray; while the thick hedge and trees which surrounded the garden concealed them from the view of any one passing. We ourselves were not likely to be discovered unless by a person entering the hut. The food with which our good hostess Margarida had supplied us afforded a tolerable supper, with something over for breakfast. We could not doubt but that early the next day we should fall in with the Patriots.

Scarcely yet persuaded that Captain Lopez was acting treacherously, as Captain Laffan supposed, I half expected to see him return.

"If he does, it will be with a party of the enemy," said my companion, "and we shall be made prisoners, unless we get due notice and can gallop off."

This idea made us more wakeful than we should otherwise have been, for Lion doing duty as sentry was sufficient protection. The morning, however, came, and no enemy appeared. I shared my portion of the remaining stock of food with Lion, who had been for some time on short commons, as vegetable diet did not suit his constitution.

We had gone some distance when, as we were stopping to water our horses at a stream, my ear caught the tramp of feet.

"There is a large body of infantry coming along the road," I exclaimed; "I trust that they may be friends, or we shall have to cut across the country to avoid them."

Captain Laffan listened, and was satisfied that I was right.

"We must approach cautiously," he said, "and be prepared to turn to the right-about if they should prove to be enemies."

We instantly mounted and rode on, and before long came in sight of the troops.

"They are Patriots, I am sure, from their dress, and the flags they carry," said Captain Laffan.

He was right. As we got nearer a mounted officer rode forward. To my infinite satisfaction I saw that he was Uncle Richard; while Antonio came close behind him, dressed as an officer.

"Hurrah! rejoiced to see you, Duncan; and you too, Captain Laffan," exclaimed Uncle Richard as he recognised us. "Where do you come from? Tell me all about it as we ride along; you will accompany me, for we shall soon halt to let the men dine, and you can then get what food you require."

We briefly told him the object of our journey.

"I knew that Don Juan was ordered to hold the fort, but I little supposed that he was so hard pressed. However, I hope we shall be in time to relieve him. You see these fine fellows?" and he pointed to the men. "I have been busy for some months, while you were away, raising and drilling them; and though I cannot say much for the uniformity of their appearance, I am pretty sure that, if well led--as I flatter myself they will be--they will do good service when we meet the enemy. I have had some difficulty in getting efficient officers, but I chose the best men I could find, independent of all other considerations. I have a Black, and two pure-blooded Indians, while the rest are Creoles. I found your former servant Antonio so intelligent and brave a fellow, that I gave him a company."

"I am delighted to hear it," I answered. "In a noble cause like ours there should be but one consideration,--to find the best men for every post; and if they have once been slaves, they are more likely to fight for freedom."

Our great object now was to march forward and attack the Spaniards before they could capture the fort. That we should come up with the enemy in time, I could not help thinking, was very uncertain. Our men, however, were well able to advance as rapidly as any troops could move. Except their muskets and powder, they were unencumbered with any accoutrements, or indeed with any superfluous clothing. They required but little food, and that of the coarsest description. Accustomed to the use of firearms from their boyhood, they had quickly been turned into efficient soldiers. We had intelligent guides, also, who knew the country, and were able to point out the best paths for our advance.

A short time only was allowed for the men to take their dinner, after which we marched on again until nightfall. At first it seemed somewhat strange to find myself seated round our camp-fire with Antonio, and to hear him addressed as "Captain;" but I did not allude to our former relative positions. In a short time, however, as he bore his honours well, and behaved in a thoroughly officer-like way, this feeling wore off, and it seemed quite natural to speak to him as an equal. He was only one of many who at that period rose from the ranks. One of the bravest generals in the Patriot army had been a slave. Indeed, General Paez had been a herd-boy, and Arismendez a fisherman. Bolivar was one of the few Patriot leaders of high family, for the Spaniards had put to death the larger number of the men of influence and Liberal principles, before the struggle for liberty began.

The next morning we recommenced the march two hours before daylight, when the men appeared fresh and in good spirits. We had again advanced some distance after our noonday halt when we came to a rapid river, running between high cliffs, over which, we had learned from our guides, a strong wooden bridge had been thrown. Had it not been for this bridge the passage of the river would have cost us great delay, as we should have had to descend by narrow pathways to the bottom of the cliffs, then to throw a pontoon across, and ascend on the other side. In the face of an enemy this would have been impossible.

I had ridden forward, curious to examine the structure of the bridge of which our guides had spoken. I found that strong timbers had been fixed on the ledges in the cliffs projecting over the stream, serving to support a platform; from this platform others were pushed forward on either side, the inner ends lashed to the first platform, while a centre one joined the two. Railings ran along on either side of this ingenious structure, which had a roof supported on poles--the object apparently being to prevent the wood-work from rotting with the wet.

I had got a short distance along the bridge, when I caught sight of a body of men coming over the ridge of a hill scarcely a mile off. Another look convinced me that they were Spanish troops; while the advance-guard of our force was nearly as far off on the other side. I waited for a moment longer, to judge whether, by the movements of the Spaniards, the latter had been seen; but I judged that they were concealed by the trees and rocks which lay between thorn, while they on their part had not discovered the enemy. The possession of the bridge was of the greatest importance, and I knew that the Spaniards, so soon as they should discover the Patriots, would make a rush down the hill to gain it. Partly hid as I was by the roof and railings of the bridge, I hoped that I had not been seen. To avoid the risk of being discovered, therefore, I slipped off my horse, and turning its head led it back until I got under shelter of some trees; when, mounting, I galloped as hard as I could until I met Uncle Richard, who instantly gave the word to advance at the double.

The Spaniards, who were already descending the hill, rushed down with headlong speed on discovering us, hoping to gain the bridge before our party had secured it. We at once dashed across to hold it against the Spanish advance-guard, which had nearly reached it. As the enemy saw us crossing they opened a hot fire, but, the distance being considerable, their bullets did no damage, and we were soon across without a casualty. Directly afterwards the head of our column appeared, and impetuously charged along the bridge. They came not a bit too soon, for already we were engaged with those of the Spaniards who had advanced ahead of their companions, whose numbers were every moment increasing, and who pressed us fearfully hard. In the meantime the Spanish troops, as they descended the hill, opened fire on our men,--those who were waiting to cross replying to it from the other side.

As I looked up the hill I feared, from the numbers descending, that we should be shot down before a sufficient number of the Patriots could cross to hold their own until our main body had got over. Our men, however, pressed forward and formed rapidly. In another minute we had secured our ground, and driven back the enemy a dozen yards or more, affording sufficient space for the main body to form up as they crossed. Several had been shot, and had fallen over into the torrent, which was already dyed with blood.

The order was now given to charge. The Spaniards, in their eagerness to reach the bridge, had been thrown into disorder as they descended the hill. Our left wheeled, turned their flank, and drove them down towards the river; while our right stood its ground. The contest was short, but sharp. In the course of a few minutes, it seemed, the larger number of the Spaniards were hurled over the cliffs; while the rest, in utter confusion, attempted to retreat up the hill, but were followed by our nimble-footed men, and cut down or bayoneted.

No victory could have been more complete. Not a Spaniard who was taken was allowed to live. Of the whole force, numbering some five or six hundred men, those only escaped who contrived to hide themselves in ditches or behind bushes or rocks, or whose activity enabled them to keep ahead of their pursuers. Our chief casualties had occurred while our men were crossing the bridge, but, in all, we had lost comparatively few.

The summit of the hill gained, we halted to reform our troops, and then once more advanced. Whether or not the Spaniards we had defeated were those who had attacked the fort, we could not tell, as not a prisoner had been saved. In vain did Uncle Richard call to his followers to spare the lives of those who yielded; his orders were not listened to. The men only followed the custom of that savage warfare, and the example of the Spaniards, upon whom they thus fearfully retaliated.

Once more we advanced. Another day passed; and it was late on the next before we reached the neighbourhood of the fort. I looked out eagerly to ascertain whether the besiegers were still before it, but as yet not a sign could I discover of the enemy. The hamlet occupied by the Spaniards appeared to be deserted. I now felt convinced that the body we had defeated was part of the force which had been besieging the fort, while the remainder had probably marched in an opposite direction. We had seen nothing of Captain Lopez, however, and he certainly was not with those Spaniards whom we had encountered.

Now came the question, What was the fate of the garrison? Had they been able to hold out until the Spaniards, growing weary of the attempt, had given it up? or had the fort been successfully assaulted, and its defenders cut to pieces? If so, the Spaniards must now have possession, and it would be our turn to attack them, and to attempt its recapture. This would not be so difficult a task to us as it had proved to the Spaniards, as Captain Laffan and I knew every point about it, and every spot from whence it was assailable.

The first thing to be done, however, was to make a reconnaissance; and Captain Laffan and I rode on for this purpose. With our glasses we saw from a distance that no flag was flying; and as we got nearer we discovered that the flagstaff itself was broken short off, and that the tower was fearfully shattered, while parts of the stockades were thrown down, and the whole fort seemed in the most dilapidated condition.

"A bad omen, that," observed my companion; "but, at the same time, it may have been shot through, and a puff of wind have blown it down."

My heart began to sink, as, still further lessening our distance, we could see no one moving in the fort. It appeared to be deserted. As this, however, might not be the case--for the garrison might possibly be keeping concealed--we advanced cautiously, halting again just out of musket-shot. We waited for some time, but not a moving object could we discern. By this time we had been joined by several men on foot. Captain Laffan ordered them to creep forward and fire, thinking that the salute might elicit a reply should an enemy be holding the fort. As the report went echoing among the rocks, a whole flight of galenachas winged their flight to the summit of the neighbouring cliffs, whence they could watch an opportunity of again descending to finish their horrible banquet. We knew now, to a certainty, that no living beings occupied the fort. What had been the fate of our friends?

Eager to ascertain the worst, we rode forward, and, fording the stream, made our way over a mass of ruins which filled the ditch, into the interior. The scene which presented itself told a sad tale. There lay, round the tower, the bodies of friends and foes in equal numbers, with limbs torn, clothing burnt, and countenances blackened. With a sickening heart I searched for one form, if it could be distinguished from the other disfigured remains of humanity. It was not long before I recognised the uniform my brave friend had worn. He was lying directly under the wall, while one hand still grasped the jewelled sword I had seen Dona Dolores gird to his side. Yes, it was he, my gallant friend! I knew him by his features, though scorched and blackened and fearfully changed, and by a ring he had worn, as well as by the watch in his pocket.

Captain Laffan found me kneeling by the side of my dead friend, unable to restrain my grief.

"It is the fortune of war, Duncan. A more gallant fellow never breathed; and he died a noble death--in discharge of his duty," said my late dominie. "Don't give way, my boy; he did not die in vain."

"But Dona Dolores!" I exclaimed; "her heart will break when she hears of it."

"It's of sterner stuff than that, I've a notion. But come, we must see at once about giving him a soldier's grave while there is yet time, for we may soon have other work to do."

Taking my dead friend's sword, and his ring and watch, that I might give them to Dona Dolores, I rose from the ground.

In a short time Captain Antonio came up with the advance-guard. On counting the slain, we found that they numbered more than half the garrison. The rest might possibly have cut their way out; if not, they must have been taken prisoners, and, to a certainty, afterwards shot. A still greater number of Spaniards had been destroyed. All that we could suppose was, that Juan, when he found that successful resistance was impossible, had blown up the tower, and perished with such of the assailants as had made good their entrance.

A grave was dug for Juan beneath a wide-spreading tree, some little way up the valley. We there laid him to rest; and a volley having been fired over his remains, a heap of unhewn rocks was piled up above them to serve as the young Patriot's tomb.

"When our cause is triumphant, and peace returns, I will erect a marble monument to his memory," I said. And I kept my word.

Our men, in order to save themselves trouble, cast the remainder of the bodies into the river,--caring very little for thus horribly polluting the pure water. I had before thought war a terrible thing, but the scenes I had lately witnessed impressed me still more forcibly with a horror of its fearful results. What hundreds--what thousands, I might say--of human beings had perished miserably within the last few months! How many more, too, were doomed to die! Then I thought of the towns and villages committed to the flames; the corn-fields, the orchards, and gardens destroyed; and, more than all, of the widows and orphans who, while bewailing the loss of those they loved, their protectors and bread-winners, were doomed to struggle on in poverty; and the numberless families, formerly in affluence, now reduced to absolute beggary. Such was the state of my native land. And yet no one complained--all were ready to struggle on in the cause of Liberty; blaming, not those who had risen to fight for freedom, but the tyranny of their oppressors as the cause of all they endured.

While we were encamped at a neighbouring hamlet, which afforded sufficient means for defence, and enabled us to watch the fort, a despatch arrived for Juan, ordering him to evacuate it. Alas! had it come sooner, he and his companions might have preserved their lives, as I believe he would have succeeded, had he made the attempt, in cutting his way through the enemy; but, influenced by a stern sense of duty, he had held it after all hope of successfully defending it had gone. This added greatly to my grief at his loss.

General Bolivar had heard of the corps Uncle Richard had raised, and now sent forward requesting him to join his army without delay. By forced marches across the mountains, in which both officers and men suffered not a little, we reached the general's camp, and I had the honour of being introduced to him. I little expected to see so young a man. In person he was small, but well-made and muscular, and able to go through astonishing exertion--frequently marching on foot over mountains and plains without exhibiting the slightest fatigue. His eyes were dark, large, and full of fire and penetration, denoting wonderful energy of mind and greatness of soul. His nose was aquiline and well-formed, his face rather long, and his complexion somewhat sallow. As Uncle Richard and I had the honour of being invited to his table, I had an opportunity of seeing him in his social moments. He was lively in his manner, full of anecdote and conversation; and it was said that, like Buonaparte, he possessed the power of reading at once a man's character, and placing him in a position where his talents and abilities would prove useful to his country. He was also thoroughly disinterested, and so little regard did he pay to himself under the most severe privations, that he was always ready to share what he possessed with his companions-in-arms, to his last cigar or his last shirt. He was always cool, and invariably displayed the most undaunted courage. He was, to be sure, hasty in his temper, and often made use of intemperate expressions, abusing in no measured manner those who had annoyed him; but, at the same time, he was ever ready to make atonement to the person whose feelings might have been undeservedly wounded. In his bosom revenge was never harboured, and it was owing entirely to the atrocities committed by the Spaniards on the Patriots that he was induced to carry on against them that fearful war of extermination which so long raged throughout the country. Bolivar might not have been a hero to his own valet, but by those who truly understand heroic qualities he should be deservedly placed on a high niche in the temple of Fame. I may add that he was temperate in his diet, drank but a very moderate quantity of wine, never touched spirits, and that he seldom smoked. Generally he was the last to retire to rest, and the first to rise.

Soon after joining the army, to my surprise I met Lopez, now raised to the rank of colonel. He appeared to be intimate with many of the officers, but kept aloof from Captain Laffan and me, as well as from Uncle Richard, whom I should properly designate as Colonel Duffield.

We had marched forward until we heard that Murillo, with a large force, was in the neighbourhood.

One night Captain Laffan and I had been invited to dine with several English officers, and our host told us that he expected Colonel Lopez. However, when the dinner-hour arrived Colonel Lopez did not appear. A message was despatched to his quarters, but he was nowhere to be found.

"It's my belief," exclaimed Captain Laffan, "that the fellow has deserted! You will see that I am right; he was intending to do so when we met him."

Dinner over, we again retired to our quarters, and all was stillness in the camp. As I wished to take a few turns to enjoy the cool night air, I accompanied one of Bolivar's aides-de-camp who was about to visit the outposts, when we met a small body of troops marching towards headquarters. The officer in command gave the countersign, and they were allowed to proceed. Just then, who should we meet but Colonel Lopez, who informed my companion that he had some news of importance to communicate to General Bolivar respecting an intended movement of the enemy which he had just obtained from a deserter, and requested that he might be conducted to the general's tent.

"If you will remain here, I will immediately acquaint the general with what you say, and beg that you may be admitted," was the answer.

I returned with the aide-de-camp, but left him near Bolivar's tent to deliver the message. I had not got many yards off, however, when I heard a volley of musketry fired close to me, and directly, as it seemed, at the tent. An instant afterwards I saw a party of men, who must have followed close upon us, disappearing in the darkness.

"To arms!--to arms! the enemy are upon us!" was the cry, and soon general confusion ensued. The troops got under arms, and some fired in the direction taken by the fugitives, but in the darkness it was impossible to see whether any were hit. The fear was that the general must have been killed, and every one was in dismay until he himself rode round, quieting the alarm of the men. He had fortunately quitted his tent a few minutes previously, and was not many yards off when the firing took place. On examining his cot, it was found that three or four bullets had passed right through it, so that he must have been killed, or severely wounded, had he not providentially left his tent.

Few in the camp slept that night. A treacherous attempt had evidently been made to assassinate our general. When morning came we looked out in the direction of the enemy's camp. On the ground lay two bodies, and a party was sent out to bring them in. One of them was that of Colonel Lopez; and on his person was discovered a paper proposing a plan to Murillo for penetrating the camp with a party of Spaniards disguised as Patriots, and putting Bolivar to death. It was countersigned as approved of by the Spanish general. Such, then, was the fate of the rejected suitor of Dona Dolores.

I have not space to describe the several engagements which followed, but Colonel Duffield and Captain Laffan, who soon became a major, gained the credit they deserved for their gallantry on numerous occasions, and I had the satisfaction of being praised by Bolivar himself. However, the severe life we led at length affected both Major Laffan and me, and Colonel Duffield, in whose corps we served, insisted that we should return home to obtain the quiet and rest we required. The road was now open to Popayan, and we were able to travel with a small escort of invalids and wounded men, who, like ourselves, were unfit for service, and were anxious to return home.

With feelings of considerable anxiety we rode up to my father's house, for what might not have happened during our absence we could not tell. Great, therefore, was my joy when we were greeted at the entrance by my mother, Dona Maria, Rosa, and jolly little Hugh, who all threw their arms about my neck at once, and then bestowed a similar affectionate greeting on the major--who declared, as tears streamed down his cheeks, that it gave him as much joy to see them all well, as it had to beat the Spaniards in the last battle we had fought; while Lion, who had followed at my heels, was next saluted in nearly the same fashion, while he barked, yelped, and leaped about, evidently delighted to get home. Dona Maria looked very pale, and was evidently anxious about Uncle Richard, but we were able to give a very favourable account of him. Like many other wives, she had learned to endure her anxiety.

My father was out, but he soon returned, and expressed his satisfaction at the high encomiums which had been bestowed upon me by Colonel Duffield, and even by Bolivar himself.

"I have just come from visiting Dona Dolores," he said. "She has heard the report of Don Juan's death, but will not believe it; and I am afraid that it must be your painful task, Duncan, to convince her."

As soon as I could unpack the sword and the other articles which I had carefully preserved, I returned with my father to the house of the friend with whom she was staying. On hearing that I had come, she desired to see me alone. I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my life before, supposing that she would give way to her sorrow, and that it would be incumbent on me to endeavour to console her, impossible as that might be. What to say, indeed, I knew not.

I found her dressed in mourning for her father, and looking very pale. She was seated, but she rose when I entered, and advancing towards me, took my hand. Her eye fell on the sword, then on the ring on my finger.

"I know what you have to tell me, Duncan," she said in a deep-toned voice, but without a falter; "he died as I would have had him,--fighting bravely for the freedom of his country--for the same cause to which I dedicated my life. Give me that weapon: I would present it to you, but I must use it myself; not to avenge his death, but to take his place and wield it against the foes of Freedom. That ring--give it me; he sends it as a farewell token." She placed it on her finger. "Now, tell me the particulars."

I endeavoured to describe the circumstances of Juan's death, and how he had held the fort until all hope had gone.

She had remained standing during the time of our interview.

"Farewell, Duncan," she said at last. "I must prepare for a sterner life than I have hitherto led. As yet it has been one suited to a delicate creature like Dona Paula Salabariata--a mere scribe, endeavouring to incite others to do the task I should undertake myself."

I took my leave of Dona Dolores; and the next morning we heard that, attended by two servants, she had set out, habited in half-military costume, for the army. Some time passed before we heard of her again. She had joined a regiment, and taken part in every action. She seemed to bear a charmed life, too, for, although always in the thickest of the fight, the bullets passed her harmlessly by.

Years have rolled on since then, and the cause of Liberty has triumphed. When peace was obtained, I married my so-called cousin, the fair-haired Rosa; and my dear little sister became the wife of a gallant English officer who settled in the country.

I have described these scenes of warfare, not for the sake of encouraging a love of fighting, but for a very contrary object; and from the horrors I witnessed during that period, I am convinced that War is the greatest curse that can afflict a country, and I earnestly pray that the reign of Peace may soon commence on earth.

[THE END]
William H. G. Kingston's Novel: In New Granada: Heroes and Patriots

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