forces, under Colonel Méndez. One day, while Colonel Méndez and his brother, Captain Méndez, were breakfasting with a friend Doña Socorro influenced Antón to “pronounce,” with his soldiers, in favor of the Empire. His deed was represented, in brilliant colors to the young commander of the Imperial forces, Arévalo, and Antón was rewarded. He was the confidential friend and trusted adviser of Arévalo, and, for a time, all their plans prospered. But Gregorio Méndez and Sánchez Magellanes gathered a handful of loyal men and made a stand. A battle was fought, the invading forces looking for an easy victory; they met with dire defeat. Antón Pérez was mortally wounded. The death of the youth, who had sacrificed loyalty, patriotism, and honor, to a foolish love, is depicted in dreadful detail. EXTRACTS FROM ANTÓN PÉREZ. Doña Socorro was somewhat irritated, that the compliment for which she sought was not given, and that only her niece was praised. She controlled herself, however, merely saying inwardly--“what a fool the boy is! he must be waked up.” Then she said aloud: “Well, since you do not care to stay, feel that I am interested in your welfare. I should like to see you at my house, tomorrow.” “I will be there, madam,” Anton answered respectfully. And slipping, timidly, through the crowd of guests, directing a furtive glance at Rosalba, he went to his work at the humble desk in Ajágan’s shop. But he could not keep track of the figures; sums and differences came out badly; everything was topsy-turvy; seven times six was forty-eight and five would not contain three. His head was in a whirl. That night he could not sleep. In the morning, he performed his usual duties and at midday, his heart high with vague, happy hopes, he went to his appointment with Doña Socorro. He was expected. The lady received him with expressive signs of affection, and seating him, said: “I have invited you here for your own good. You are poor; I wish to aid you. Do not be ashamed; speak to me frankly. What are your resources for living? Go into full particulars.” Antón lowered his eyes and turned his hat around and around in his hands, until the lady again encouraged him: “Go on; don’t be brief. Speak! boy.” “Well then, lady,” answered the young man, hesitatingly, “I can’t say that it is so bad; I earn my twenty-five pesos a month.” “And from whom?” “From what persons, you mean”--continued Antón, with somewhat greater frankness,--“why then, Don Ascencio Ajágan gives me ten pesos because, every night, I go there for a little while to make up his accounts and to write a letter or two. Master Collado pays me five pesos for the class in arithmetic, which I teach in the public school; another five, the receiver of taxes, who scarcely knows how to sign his name, pays me for balancing his accounts at the end of the month; and the other five the town treasurer gives me for doing the same.” “That is not bad; but Collado and the collector pay you a miserable price.”