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could be seen but red sheets of flame, flashing through the gloom, till a light breeze lifted the dark veil, and showed the fierce combatants rushing on to the swift vengeance of the bayonet. As they closed, a shrill wild yell arose, the ranks reeled to and fro for a moment, and the patriots gave way. Eugenio saw the infantry failing, and at the head of the victorious cavalry, dashed into the main body. of the enemy, trampling hundreds in the dust and dealing death at every blow. In the mean time, Isabel in wildering agony had watched the progress of the fight, her straining eyes following the white plume wherever it waved, till in the very midst of the enemy she saw it fall-her brain reeled and she saw no more. When she recovered, the roar of battle sounded at a distance, becoming fainter and fainter, till it entirely died away, and nothing was heard save the low wail of the wounded and dying that rose from the field of carnage. With faltering steps, she hastened to search for her fallen lover, and soon found him motionless amid heaps of slain. She turned his ghastly face from the earth; all was too true; she sunk down by his side, and in the wildness of despair strove to raise him from the ground. The blood gushed from his wound; he opened his eyes, but again fainted. Tearing the kerchief from her neck, she bound up the wound, raised his head upon her breast, and he again revived. At that moment a company of horsemen came up, headed by Bolivar himself. Words cannot tell the mingled emotions that swelled the breast of the Liberator as he stood for a moment, like one entranced, gazing on the countenance of his friend. There he lay low and helpless, weltering in his blood supported by a being so frail and yet so beautiful, that she seemed a ministering angel sent to waft the spirit of the dying warrior to celestial realms. Quickly recovering, however, he commanded both to be borne to the camp, where the surgeon, after examination, pronounced that the wound of Eugenio though deep was not mortal. When Isabel learned that he was safe, her agonizing fears gave way to tenderer emotions, and she wept tears of joy and adoring gratitude. For six months the army lay recruiting. This was a joyful time to Isabel, for as she watched constantly by his side and saw his eye brightening and the flush of health again suffusing his cheek, happiness the most exquisite filled her breast, and she seemed to "live ages in moments," knowing that the war that still raged furiously would soon call him forth again to danger.

East from Lima there is a deep defile, which opens into a valley, where lived a solitary peasant, well known to Eugenio. Thither he bore Isabel, thinking this to be the place of greatest safety, as a battle was daily expected. Being left alone with the hermit, she was with difficulty restrained by him from leaving the valley. The first morning after the departure of her lover had no sooner dawned, than she was out looking with a sad and anxious gaze towards the north. But she looked not long ere dark pillars of smoke rolled up

against the sky, and sounds as of distant thunder came rumbling and echoing among the hills.

A light came over the face of the bermit, and unwonted fire flashed from his eye. ""Tis the thunder of battle," he exclaimed. "Would that I were, as in my youth, in the strong band led on by the impetuous Amaru, how would the proud Spaniard again quail, and fly like chaff before the hurricane.

Isabel started at the mention of her father's name, but soon learned that her protector had been her father's friend, and was near him when he was taken.

Weeks of distressing anxiety passed away, when they again heard the roar of artillery. This time it came nearer than before; the thunder was longer, louder and more dreadful, and a black sulphureous cloud arose and rolled over the mountains, veiling the sun from view and wrapping the little valley in smoke-created darkness. Isabel fell on her knees supplicating heaven for the safety of her lover, and even the cheek of the old peasant turned pale, as he listened to the roar of the mighty conflict. The sounds had scarcely ceased when they saw a cloud of dust on the plain, and two horses urged furiously onward, one of them without a rider. For a time they stood gazing in deep suspense, when the stranger waving his sword on high shouted aloud, "Peru is free, Peru is free." A shriek of delight burst from the lips of Isabel, as she heard his voice, and the next moment the lovers were locked in each other's arms. their first tumultuous rapture had subsided, the hermit blessed them and they departed.

When

The next morning came-it was a morning of beauty and triumph, and from six o'clock till two the whole city of Lima was alive with preparations for the entry of the army into the capital. Over the principal gate of the city was erected a triumphal arch, on which was inscribed in letters of gold, "Welcome to the most renowned Liberators, the friends of Freedom and Peru." In the middle of the great square a lofty stage was built, on either side of which waved two standards beautifully wrought, but of widely different appearance. From city and country immense multitudes had assembled, crowding around the stage, filling the streets, and covering the roofs and balconies of the surrounding houses. As the day wore away, a gun from the camp announced that the march was begun. The restless anxiety of the crowd now became swallowed up in intense expectation, and from window and battlement the eyes of the gazers were looking steadfastly out upon the plain, when suddenly from the loftiest tower was heard the cry, "They come, they come." Presently the whole procession appeared moving regularly and slowly on, while the gay and martial tones of clarions and trumpets, swelling gradually upon the ear, seemed to send a thrill of uncontrollable joy to every heart. Passing beneath the triumphal arch, they entered the city. First rode the intrepid Gen. Sucre, followed by musicians

and standard bearers. Then in beautiful regularity marched the famous huzzars of Junin, and at their head, mounted on his black war steed, rode their almost adored leader, the hero of the revolution. Next the eyes of the delighted citizens were fixed upon a beautiful female, whose form of exquisite symmetry, and face of unearthly loveliness, seemed to present to their fascinated vision the Spirit of Liberty embodied to grace the triumph; and by her side rode the son of the royal viceroy, not their tyrant but their Liberator. Still all was silent, save frequent but low murmurs of applause, as the grand procession swept slowly on. Whilst the military were taking their stations, and Bolivar was dismounting, the crowd waved to and fro with restless impatience. But when he ascended the platform and bared his head before the people, a silence breathless and profound reigned throughout the immense assembly. His words at first flowed fast and free. He spoke of what Peru once was, and of the tyranny of Spain. As he proceeded, a solemn earnestness came over his manner, his voice gradually swelled into mighty power, and a burning light flashed from his eye. He laid before them the awful scenes of their first revolution, and turning pointed them to their fields and mountains, still whitened with the bones of their fathers and crimsoned with the blood of their sons. As he spoke, tears might be seen coursing down from the eyes of age, and the cheeks of youth were wet with the overflowing tide of emotion. Perceiving the effect, he cried aloud, "Peruvians! 'tis yours to say whether these scenes shall now be ended. The power of Spain has fallenthat power that hurled the grandeur of your ancient empire in the dust, and trampled you in slavery." Then taking the banner that was waving on his left, he said, "I hold in my hand the flag that Pizarro brought over to enslave the Incas," and throwing it beneath his feet, exclaimed, "thus fall every support of tyranny." The living ocean which had been so calm, by degrees became agitated, till at these last words the mighty silence was broken by a shout so long and loud that it seemed to shake the city to its foundations. He motioned for silence, and every sound was hushed. Proceeding, he told of the success that had attended the struggle at the north, and of the brilliant victories of Junin and Ayacucho, by which their own independence was now achieved. Then, with thrilling eloquence, he exhorted them to favor the formation of a general confederacy of the emancipated states, pointing in triumph to the bright example of the republic in North America, and portraying in most glowing colors the peace, prosperity and happiness which had attended her career of glory. "On the same august eminence," said he, "the states of South America, if united, may also stand, high above the reach of oppression. Let this be done, and the sword of tyranny shall no more deluge your fields with blood. The banner of freedom shall no longer lie torn and trampled, but shall forever wave its ample folds in proud triumph over your land. Behold it;"

and seizing the standard that was flying on his right, he waved it three times around his head, shouting, "Vive la Patria, Vive la Liberta, Vive la Independence."

At that moment every bell in the city rung; the deep-mouthed guns from the wall gave answer in a voice of thunder, and the lofty Andes echoed back the response. Words cannot paint the scene that followed. The multitude stood for a time as if entranced, but soon many might be seen with tears invoking blessings on their liberators; others danced for very joy, and ever and anon the heavens were rent again by shouts of admiring applause. In the midst of the excitement, Bolivar had descended from the stage and a new procession was formed, which moved towards the great cathedral. First came a company of maidens in snow-white robes, with wreaths upon their heads, and baskets of flowers on their arms. Next in the procession, by the side of Bolivar, walked the archbishop, his long white beard and sacred robes giving to his appearance indescribable dignity. The low murmur of the people was repressed as these two entered the church, followed by the young and beautiful, who were to be united in marriage. As they moved up the aisle, the company of maidens, who were now standing in ranks on each side, dropped flowers in their way, at the same time chanting a wild and lively song of bravery and freedom. When at length Eugenio and his bride stopped before the altar, the silvery voices of the maidens melted to softer, sweeter strains, that told of love and beauty, the reward of the good and brave. The lovers pressed each other's hands passionately, and the audience held their breath in profound silence as the charming sounds echoed through the long drawn arches. They ceased, and the deep, solemn voice of the archbishop soon concluded the ceremony.

Years have passed away since that time, but Peru still enjoys the blessings of a republican government, and, though her morning of life was shrouded in darkness, the daughter of the most illustrious, martyred patriot, has lived to see her husband rise to the highest offices in the gift of an independent people, and her two sons nobly following in the steps of their father. H. Q. J.

THE PAST.

THE Past! 'tis sweet to think of it,-to call
Before the mind the shad'wy images
Of days long fled, and musingly to rove
Along their winding rivulet:-its waves
Will ever cheer our sadden'd souls and teach
Our erring hearts the lesson they should learn.

What though the wintry gale may wildly howl,—
Sweet mem'ry whispers of a joyous spring

Whose zephyrs fann'd our fever'd cheek, while hope
Points on to happy hours to come, the bright
Reflections of the past. What though the storm
Hang out its blacken'd drapery across

The sky, and roar and crash above, yet still
There have been sunny days, and sunny days
Will come;-the promise rises from the past,
And faith enstamps that promise with her seal.

The Past! roam o'er its varied field where bloom
The flowers of every tint,-from which cull out
A cluster of the loveliest and weave

It in the wreath of memory to wear
It on thy brow;-'twill be an evergreen
Amid the snows of age.

THEY'RE ENGAGED!

OR

A BACHELOR'S REVERY.

WHAT a host of feelings and associations come up at the sight or sound of this same simple phrase. Two persons, of a proper age we'll suppose, young and handsome, buoyant and eager, untried in the ways of the world and ready to battle with it if such needs be, and in their youth and innocence having given each other their hearts, and vowed in their own way and at some lucky moment, they would love each other above all the world-just look at them. Her eye rests on him diffidently, yet with an affectionate, calm and conscious pride; and he in turn gazing on her, his own heart's idol, as if there was not such an other piece of furniture in the universe-just look at them. Hang their happiness!

So I thought the other evening, as I buttoned up my coat at a friend's door-(alas, alas, my bachelor's coat, for be it known to you, friendly reader, that it covers a heart of six and thirty, though

pass for a man of twenty five)-thus thought I, I say, as I buttoned my coat, took up my cane, and touched my hat for the tenth time, and walked meditatively away.

"Ay, hang their happiness," said I mentally-" hang all engaged people! They wanted me out of the way-yes, I saw it-and then they were so deucedly polite. Mr. Q. wont you have this, and Mr. Q. wont you have that-O hang their happiness!"

And pray, Mr. Q., says the reader, what do you mean by all this tempest in a tea-pot? It's well enough to be engaged, says a fine

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