672 THE CATALAN CAPUCHIN. 



favourites of his staff. On the major's introduction, the Liberator 

 made him recount the whole transaction, the excessive absurdity of 

 which, added to the sang-frnid recital, notwithstanding its tragical 

 denouement, convulsed them all with laughter. Llanero, mistaking 

 their mirth for approbation, thought he might push his success a little 

 further ; so, retreating to a little distance, he drew his sword,, and 

 holding it by the point, presented the handle to Bolivar, saying, with 

 as much humility as his nature would allow, " This, your Excellency, 

 is the humble instrument that served me to shave the poor Capu- 

 chin's beard. May I beg to be allowed to present to " 



" Nom de Dieu ! " exclaimed Bolivar, in French ; and, vaulting 

 back from his hammock some two or three yards, " is the fellow 

 drunk, or has he lost his wits, that he takes me for a stabber, by 

 giving me his filthy blade ?" 



" Pardon, your Excellency !" returned the Major, rather abashed 

 at the success of his experiment ; " but I merely meant to call your 

 attention to a curious circumstance connected with the affair. This 

 vagabond monk, you must know, General, always wore a thick 

 padded collar about his neck, as it was supposed, in consequence of 

 some disease. Now, what might your Excellency believe this collar 

 was stuffed with ? perhaps you will suppose some aromatic precau- 

 tion against infection from the sick ! No ; simply with twenty-five 

 good doubloons of gold, which this saintly brigand had levied upon 

 charity. Now, General, what I wished to say was, that this poor 

 contemptible blade, for which no one would give half a dollar, made 

 a clean sweep of neck, collar, doubloons, and all ; and see, sir, not a 

 single notch !" 



It is said that Llanero became exceedingly quarrelsome jind trouble- 

 some after this event, and the least allusion to the river Caroni was 

 certain to excite in him the most violent anger ; indeed, he very 

 nearly cut the throat of a Piedmontese officer, who, not knowing the 

 circumstance of his disgrace, politely invited him to share in a feast 

 of maccaroni ! 



LOVE. 



WHERE, shrinking, cowers detected Guilt, 

 Where blood for blood must soon be spilt ; 

 When RUTH and Mercy shuddering flee, 

 And Justice sounds its dread decree, 

 Love, like a star in cloud-stained skies, 

 Still keeps lone watch with weeping eyes. 



Tears, nor tortures, nor dismay, 



Can scare that drooping form away ; 



All unions may be torn apart 



Save those that rivet heart and heart, 



Life and light and lip and breath 



Love stands alone, defying Death ! 



W. G. A. 



