was a jacket and breeches of white linen, fitted to his form with the utmost exactness.  Boots of Russet leather were half-way up the leg, the broad tops of which were turned down, and the heels garnished with spurs of an immense size and length of rowel.  On his head was a low-crowned hat curiously formed from the snow white-feathers of the swan; and in his hand he carried a heavy scourge, with shot well twisted into its knotted lash.  After looking round for a moment or two, as though to command the attention of all, he advanced to the side of the horse, and disdaining the use of the stirrup, with one bound threw himself into the saddle, at the same time calling on the grooms to let him go.  For an instant the animal seemed paralyzed; then, with a perfect yell of rage, bounded into the air like a stricken deer.

“The struggle for the mastery had commenced—­bound succeeded bound with the rapidity of thought; every device which its animal instinct could teach, was resorted to by the maddened brute to shake off its unwelcome burthen—­but in vain.  Its ruthless rider proved irresistible—­and, clinging like fate itself, plied the scourge and rowel like a fiend.  The punishment was too severe to be long withstood, and at length, after a succession of frantic efforts, the tortured animal, with a scream of agony, leaped forth upon the plain and flew across it with the speed of an arrow.  The ground upon which Tarleton had pitched his camp was an almost perfectly level plain, something more than half a mile in circumference.

“Around this, after getting him under way, he continued to urge his furious steed, amid the raptures and shouts of the admiring soldiery, plying the whip and spur at every leap, until wearied and worn down with its prodigious efforts, the tired creature discontinued all exertion, save that to which it was urged by its merciless rider.

[Illustration:  Tarleton breaking the horse.]

“At length, exhausted from the conflict, Tarleton drew up before his tent and threw himself from his saddle.  The horse was completely subdued, and at the word of command followed him like a dog.  The victory was complete.  His eye of fire was dim and lustreless—­drops of agony fell from his drooping front, while from his labouring and mangled sides the mingled blood and foam poured in a thick and clotted stream.  Tarleton himself was pale as death, and as soon as he was satisfied with his success, retired and threw himself on his couch.  In a short time I was called into his presence and delivered my despatches.  Immediate orders were issued to make preparation for a return to Hillsborough, so soon as all the scouts had come in; and the next morning early found us again beyond the Haw River—­and in good time, too, for as the last files were emerging from the stream, the advance of Lee’s Legion appeared on the opposite bank, and, with a shout of disappointed rage, poured a volley into the ranks of the retreating columns.