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side of one of the sentries. Before the astonished soldier had time to turn his head, he was thrown under his horse's belly, and the Impecinado, bounding lightly into the saddle, dashed past the French general and his staff, and galloped at full speed across the moor, in the direction of the road leading to the mountains.

The action had been so sudden, that the Spaniard got a tolerable start before any one thought of following him. Soon, however, a score of dragoons spurred their horses in pursuit; and then commenced that most animating and exciting of all chases, a man-hunt. In the broad light of the moon, the fugitive and his pursuers were visible to the French troops. In front rode the Impecinado, bare-headed, his long black elf-locks floating in the breeze, urging on his horse by an unsparing application of the thong fastened to the end of his dragoon bridle. At various distances behind him came his pursuers, two only of whom seemed to have a good chance of overtaking him. Arrived about midway across the plain, one of the latter found himself within ten yards of the guerilla, and drawing a pistol from his holster, he took aim and fired. He would have done better to have saved his cartridge, for the ball whistled harmlessly over the head of the Impecinado, merely serving to remind him that he also would probably find a pistol in the holsters of the horse he bestrode. He was right in his conjecture. Rising in his stirrups, he turned his body half round in the saddle. His enemy was only a couple of horses' lengths from him. A report was heard, and the hussar fell from his charger; the well trained animal immediately halting by his wounded master.

The Impecinado now redoubled his efforts to escape. As good luck would have it, the horse of which he had possessed himself in so daring a manner, was one of the fleetest of the squadron to which it belonged. The guerilla was thus enabled to keep far a-head of his pursuers, with the exception of one, a non-commissioned officer, who had taken advantage of the momentary slackening of speed when the Impecinado fired his pistol, to diminish the distance between himself and the fugitive. The moor, however, was soon crossed,

and Martin Diez entered a narrow road, his horse's shoes striking fire as he rattled over the loose flints which paved the ground. The path was overhung by the twisted limbs of wild apple and plum trees, and he had to bow his head on his charger's neck, to avoid receiving blows from the projecting branches. He had hoped that when he left the open ground the pursuit would cease, but in this he was mistaken. He still heard behind him the clatter of hoofs, and the hard breathing of a horse, which was every moment brought nearer and nearer. He now saw that it would be impossible to escape without a struggle with his relentless pursuer, and he immediately devised a plan for neutralizing the superiority which the weapons of the dragoon would give him over an unarmed antagonist. Arrived at a sharp turn in the road, he had no sooner passed it than he faced his horse about, and the Frenchman coming up at the same instant, fell, as it were, into his adversary's arms, without being able to make use of the sabre which he brandished in his hand. The dragoon was a powerful man, full six feet high, one of those red-moustached, fair-haired Alsatians who abound in the ranks of the French army, and make such excellent soldiers, uniting the phlegm and steady coolness of the German with the headlong courage of their more vivacious countrymen. He grappled resolutely with his foe; but his strength, had it been twice as great, was useless, when opposed to the iron muscles and vice-like grasp of the Spaniard. They both rolled from their horses to the ground, and, in falling, the Impecinado caught his opponent's cheek in his teeth, and pinned him with the grip of the bull-dog. Then, when his foe was writhing with the acuteness of the pain, and vainly endeavouring to extricate himself, and to pick up the sword which had escaped from his hand in the struggle, he suddenly let go his hold, and raising his foot, gave one stamp on the prostrate body of the unhappy Frenchman. The horn of a Murcian bull would hardly have caused a more ghastly and fatal wound. The bowels of the poor wretch burst from his side, his eyes rolled till their whites only were visible, and, as with a convulsive movement he turned round upon his face, a stream

of blood gushed from his mouth, and mingled with the waters of a streamlet which rippled by the spot where this frightful contest had taken place. (1)

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() The Impecinado was remarkable for his extraordinary muscular strength, which has, perhaps, never been equalled, at least amongst the << men of our degenerate days. In a personal contest, four or five men were nothing like a match for him; he would throw them in every direction, just as an ordinary person would disperse a swarm of troublesome boys. An admirable swordsman, he would not hesitate to attack single-handed, and with no other arms than his sabre, a whole troop of enemies, and ran little risk in so doing, provided fire-arms were not used against him. When taken prisoner at Roa in Castile, and led out to be executed by the peasants, who had been excited and urged on by the priests, staunch adherents of Ferdinand, and enemies of the cause of the Constitution, he burst the cords which bound him, and made a rush at his sabre, which was in the hands of an officer of Realistas standing by. It was the famous sabre which had been sent him by George the Third, and was so heavy that any arm less nervous than that of the Impecinado could not use it for five minutes, although its owner wielded it, as if it had been a child's toy. He seized it by the cutting part of the blade, which nearly severed the fingers from his hand; but it was afterwards said, that but for this accident, and the failure of his effort to regain his weapon, he would have effected his escape in spite of the crowds that surrounded him. As it was, unarmed and defenceless, he kept his cowardly executioners at bay for some moments, but at length several men, coming behind him, threw a large cloak over his head, and entangling him in its folds passed a rope roud his neck and hung him up to a tree.

As an instance of the intrepidity and confidence of the Impecinado, and of the happy results of the headlong courage with which he braved the greatest perils, the following anecdote may not be found uninteresting: In the year 1823, he was in Arragon pursuing and harrassing a corps d'armée, commanded by General Bessieres. He (the Impecinado) had a habit of riding on at some distance in front of his troops. Being one day considerably in advance, and attended only by an aid-de-camp and a single orderly, he perceived a farm-house some at distance from the road, and by certain signs visible only to his experienced eye, he conjectured that a party of the enemy were there. He rode up to the door and knocked. A woman opened. Hay factiosos arriva? said the Impecinado, for in 1823, as in the late Carlist war, the Constitutionalists designated those of their countrymen who were opposed to them by the name of factious.

« Si Senor, »> was the reply of the woman, terrified by the fierce looks of her interrogator.

« How many? »

« Treinta y pico. There are upwards of thirty dancing in the room above stairs. « Where are their arms? >>>

They have left them in the kitchen. »

He commanded silence to the woman, and ascending the stair-case, opened the duor of the room, and appeared before the astonished royalists, to many of whom he was

Three minutes later, a party of hussars pulled up their panting animals by the side of their expiring comrade; the death-rattle was in his throat, and in the distance might be heard the sounds of a horse's feet cantering to the moun-tains.

The French troops returned to Aranda, whilst the Impecinado, no-ways daunted by the disastrous issue of his first enterprize, soon reappeared in the field at the head of a more numerous band, and by many a successful foray and gallant deed revenged the deaths of his first adherents slain by the French, in retaliation for the massacre of the escort.

(BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.)

probably known by sight. Whether or no this were the case, he did not allow them to remain long in ignorance of his name.

« Buenas noches, chicos, » cried he. « Let no man stir from this place. Soy el Impecinado. For this night we are all friends; take your muskets and follow me. The soldiers stared at one another for a moment, but at length submitting to the ascendency of the famous guerillero whose name they had just heard, and struck with admiration at the unhesitating courage with which he had come amongst them, they obeyed the order they had received. Out of different farms and cottages of the neighbourhood, nearly three hundred royalists were collected. They accompanied the Impecinado to the place where his troops had halted for the night. There he had a supper prepared, and before daybreak dismissed his unusual guests, with every man an ounce of gold in his pocket. Three hours after, six hundred Spaniards, forming the rearguard of Bessieres' column, deserted to the liberals with loud cries of « Viva el Impecinado!»>

LETTERS AND NOTES

ON THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

BY GEORGE CATLIN.

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The value of the collection gathered by Mr. Catlin is greatly enhanced by the admitted fact, that the race of red men is fast perishing, and must soon be extinct. It is but a few hundred years since white men first set foot in their country, and when their numbers exceeded, it is believed, sixteen millions when, as Mr. Catlin expresses it, «sixteen millions sent that number of daily prayers to the Almighty, and thanks for his goodness and protection: » happy and contented beings, according to their limited views and capacities, enjoying all the luxuries they knew of, and therefore cared for and now, of these sixteen millions, not two remain in all that vast continent! and of these the greater part have been degraded and demoralized by their intercourse with white men. It is doubtful, indeed, whether those which yet remain uncontaminated in the far wilderness exceed half a million, and whiskey and white men and disease and demoralization are already on their trail. Of the Mandans, the gentle and courteous Mandans, as they were designated even by the traders and trappers, two thousand in number in 1837, when Mr. Catlin visited them, not a single man remains the race is extinct!

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