do to harm those animated skeletons? Could
anything make them blacker, grimmer, more
fleshless, more miserable? But in this very
wretchedness consists their strength; for
European soldiers could not exist where these men
would thrive."

It was near one P.M. before the last of these
skeleton bands filed into the great square. I
counted them as well as I could, and made out
that there were about three thousand men, with
eight standards, each standard marking a
battalion. They lined the square, and then
dispersed to their quarters. They vanished like
an army of spectres, and, it must be owned,
with as little noise. I went about the city a
good deal that evening, but I saw but very few
of the goblin host that had filled the Gran Plaza
at noon, and disturbance there was none. This
fact made an impression on my mind, and next
morning, as I was pulling on my jack-boots
preparatory to a long ride to meet General Falcon,
I said to my servant, "Quiet fellows those,
Juan! Last night I saw only one man drunk
out of the three thousand!"  "Oh yes, sir,
quiet enough, specially when they are going to
shoot at you from behind a tree," replied Juan,
who had evidently no very exalted opinion of
the goblins. "Oh, then they do shoot people
sometimes!" I rejoined, in a tone intended to
excite Juan's rather irritable mood to the uttermost.
"Shoot, sir? I b'lieve you!" he exclaimed,
with a snort. "Why, when this gang
marched into Caracas, they were very near
shooting a lady—Madame R.—because her
little boy had a red riband in his cap. You
know, red's the colour of the aristocratical party,
the same as these chaps call the Godos and
Epilepticos the 'Goths' and 'Epileptics.'  Well,
sir, there were above a hundred muskets pointed
at the balcony where Madame R. was. 'Down
with the oligarchs!'  'Down with the red!'  they
kept shouting; but they weren't a-going to
frighten her, I promise you. 'Stead of that,
she clapped her hand on her son's cap to keep
it on, and called out to them, 'Viva the red!
You canaille, he shall wear it!' And then in
another moment, not the boy only, but herself
too, and every one in that balcony, would have
been dyed red in their own blood; but General
Guzman Blanco spurred his horse in front, and
said they should shoot him first before they
should harm a woman and a child."

By this time I had got on my boots, and
had lighted my cigar; so I descended to
the street to mount; for the governor of the
province had sent me a message that he should
start at six A.M., with all the notables of
Valencia, to meet the president, and hoped I
would ride with him. I had sent to borrow a
horse, and I found a remarkable animal awaiting
me. He was young, full of fire, and very
handsome—all but his colour, which was almost
that of slate, with white eyes. Altogether he
was a good specimen of the Venezuelan horse,
a capital charger in miniature, and not more
than fourteen hands and a half high. Punctuality
is not one of the Venezuelan virtues, as I found,
on this occasion. Although I had been warned
that the governor would start exactly at six, I
had to wait at least half an hour; and, as my
horse was extremely fresh and fidgety, it was
rather fatiguing. At last we started in a cavalcade
of some twenty or thirty horsemen, and,
seeing a Spanish friend among them with whom
I was rather intimate, I fell into discourse with
him about the Venezuelan troops I had seen the
day before, and their character. My friend said
they were much better soldiers than they looked.
He had no great opinion of their humanity, and
not only confirmed Juan's story of Madame R.
and her child, but told me several anecdotes
not at all suggestive of Venezuelan love of fair
play. Amongst other things, he said that when
the party now in power made their triumphal
entry into Caracas, one of their officers insulted
an officer of the oligarchists. A duel was fought
on the spot, in sight of an excited crowd of
soldiers and others; and when the democrat was
run through the body, the bystanders discharged
a whole volley at the conqueror, who fell pierced
with twenty bullets. I then asked him his
opinion of the president. "Falcon," said he,
"deserves a bright page in history for his
moderation. Of all the men who have governed
Venezuela, Falcon is by far the most humane.
Bolivar, as you know, was guilty of many
sanguinary acts. On the 14th, 15th, and 16th of
February, 1814, he had almost as many persons
shot as Robespierre sent to the guillotine. Some
of them were aged men of fourscore years, who
could not walk, so had to be carried to the
place of execution in chairs. The other great
revolutionary leaders have been sanguinary, too,
and even those associated with Falcon, as
Sotillo, are no exceptions to the rule; but
Falcon himself is a shining example of clemency
and courage combined. Nor can it be denied
that in his case clemency has proved the best
policy. I will give you an example. In 1861
he fought a drawn battle with Paez near
Caracas. Prisoners were taken on both sides.
Falcon treated his well, and, after a few days,
sent an officer into Caracas with a flag of truce,
and invited an exchange. Paez, it is said, sent
for the prisoners he had made, and ordered
them to be shot—a command which was
immediately carried into execution; then, turning to
the officer who had come from Falcon, he bade
him depart and report what he had seen to his
general. Shortly after that officer had returned
to his own camp, General Falcon rode up to the
place where his prisoners were, and calling out
one of them, a Mr. Sutherland, put a paper
into his hands; it was the account of the execution
at Caracas. Sutherland read the report,
handed it back to Falcon, and said, 'Well,
general, of course I know our fate is settled.
Allow me, however, to thank you for the very
kind way in which we have been treated ever
since we have been in your hands.' General
Falcon bowed, and replied, 'In an hour you
will receive notice of my decision.' With these
words the general rode away, and Mr. Sutherland
and his fellow-prisoners prepared for