All, whose memories extend so far back as the year 1850, remember the ovation received in New York by the exiled chief.  New York grants an ovation to every one; and Monagas would, doubtless, have been received with the same demonstration, had the breath of adverse fortune blown him hither, instead of his antagonist.

After the first effervescence produced by the dropping of a notability into the caldron of New York, the Llanero general was permitted to enjoy his placid domesticity without molestation; and in a pleasant street, far up-town among the Twenties, he lived in the midst of us for eight quiet years.  A curious serenity of evening, for a life so turbulent and incarnadined in its beginning!  How many of the thousands who were wont to pass the stout old soldier, with his seamed forehead and gray moustache, as he enjoyed his quiet stroll down Broadway, thought of him as the lad of Araure, the horseman of Barinas, terror of the Spaniard, victor of Carabobo, and President of Venezuela?  But though retired and unpretending in his exile, Paez was not neglected in New York; and the procession which followed him, but a few weeks since, to the steamer destined to bear him back to his native land,—­a procession saddened, it is true, by the feeble condition to which an accident had temporarily reduced the chieftain,—­showed that his solid worth was recognized and honored.

Not yet, however, is it time for the summing-up of his history.  The exile of 1850 has been solicited to return to his country, and the ninth anniversary of banishment may find him occupying once more the Presidential chair.  General Monagas having been deposed in March, 1858, repeated invitations were dispatched, by the Provisional Government, to Paez, entreating his return; and, after much cautious hesitation, he resolved, in the following September, to comply with the request.  Subsequent events belong rather to the chronology of the day than to the page of history we have thrown open here.  Our task is at an end; the career of the Llanero has been unfolded; we have placed ourselves in the presence of the comrade of Bolivar, and have witnessed the rise of the Venezuelan Republic.

BULLS AND BEARS.

[Continued.]

CHAPTER XI.

SHOWING AT WHAT COST OUR HERO ESCAPED DROWNING.

The boat lay at the wharf, a pretty little craft of six or eight tons, with a mainsail and jib.  It was a delightful afternoon; a gentle westerly wind swept over a placid sea, and the sky was as clear as the mirror that reflected its exquisite blue.  Greenleaf and Miss Sandford took their seats amidships, leaving the stern for the boatman.  The ropes were cast off, and the sailor was about stepping aboard, when it was discovered that the fishing-lines had been left behind.  Old Tarry was dispatched to bring them, and he rolled off as fast as his habitual gait allowed him.  When he was fairly up the hill, Miss Sandford said,—­