Whole pickets are sometimes attacked and carried off to a man; and when traversing the lonely passes of some mountain gorge, or defiling through the dense shadows of a wooded glen, the stoutest heart has felt a fear, lest from behind the rock that frowned above him, or from the leafy thicket whose branches stirred without a breeze, the sharp ring of a Guerilla carbine might sound his death-knell.
It was thus in the retreat upon Corunna fell Colonel Lefebvre.

Ever foremost in the attack upon our rear-guard, this gallant youth (he was scarce six-and-twenty), a colonel of his regiment, and decorated with the Legion of Honor, he led on every charge of his bold "_sabreurs_," riding up to the very bayonets of our squares, waving his hat above his head, and seeming actually to court his death-wound; but so struck were our brave fellows with his gallant bearing, that they cheered him as he came on.
It was in one of these moments as, rising high in his stirrups, he bore down upon the unflinching ranks of the British infantry, the shrill whistle of a ball strewed the leaves upon the roadside, the exulting shout of a Guerilla followed it, and the same instant Lefebvre fell forward upon his horse's mane, a deluge of blood bursting from his bosom.

A broken cry escaped his lips,--a last effort to cheer on his men; his noble charger galloped forward between our squares, bearing to us our prisoner, the corpse of his rider.
"Captain O'Malley," said a mounted dragoon to the advanced sentry at the bottom of the little hill upon which I was standing.

"Despatches from headquarters, sir," delivering into my hands a large sealed packet from the adjutant-general's office.

While he proceeded to search for another letter of which he was the bearer, I broke the seal and read as follows:-- ADJUTANT-GENERAL'S OFFICE.
May 15.
Sir,--On the receipt of this order you are directed, having previously resigned your command to the officer next in seniority, to repair to headquarters at Fueutes d'Onoro, there to report yourself under arrest.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant, GEORGE HOPETON, _Military Secretary_.
"What the devil can this mean ?" said I to myself, as I read the lines over again and again.