h side was almost precipitous, and had to be
effected with exceeding care. At times we ran down the track, rugged
with sharp crags, almost head foremost, and only saved ourselves from
falling by clinging to the nearest sapling. But there is an end to
everything, and at last we came on the road that dips into the village
of Echalar, in the district of Pampeluna, province of Navarre. Here we
dismissed our guide, and here I encountered, for the first time, a
regularly organized Carlist company, detached from the fifth battalion
of Navarre, which was in garrison at Vera, some eight miles distant; but
as I shall have opportunity to speak of the entire battalion soon, I
defer comment on its appearance.

My companions were desirous of pushing forward, and the provisional
alcalde of the village gave us a trap to take us on. There is an
excellent road by the mountain-side, until a tunnel to the right is
reached, when we entered a most picturesque, well-wooded defile, through
which the Bidassoa pours its waters. We dashed along gaily until we
came in sight of the steeple of the church of Vera at twilight.

A cry of "Who goes there?" from the gloom arrested us at the entrance of
the town.

Leader sung out, "Espana."

Again came the sentinel's cry, "What people?" and cheerily ran the
answer, "Voluntarios de Carlos Septimo!"

"Pass," was the reply; and we took the street at a trot, and pulled up
at the door of the parish priest's dwelling, where the Irish soldiers of
fortune promised me a billet for the night. The kindly pastor was equal
to expectations; we had a cordial welcome, a good dinner, and beds with
clean sheets.

Sad tidings met my companions--those of the death of a young friend, Mr.
John Scannel Taylor, a native of Cork, in the service of Don Carlos. A
few months previously he had been a promising law student in the Queen's
University of Ireland, with every prospect of a bright career before
him. He arrived from England in the middle of June, and attached
Himself to the partida of General Lizarraga in order to be near his
fellow-countryman, Smith Sheehan. Previous to Mr. Sheehan's returning to
Bayonne with despatches, he tossed up a coin to decide whether he or
Taylor should have the choice of the duty. Poor Taylor won, and elected
to remain with Lizarraga, as there was likelihood of fighting at hand.
The very next day Yvero, where the Republicans held a
strongly-intrenched position, was attacked, and the young Ir