The enemy's general had marched in warm pursuit of the Republicans up to that place, and now made every arrangement for a regular attack. Two battalions of infantry had crossed the dry bed of the torrent; and two pieces of artillery, placed on the bank, thundered upon the line of Republican cavalry. On their side, the brave men of the first brigade, under the command of Netto, had drawn their sabres, and waited only for the sound of the trumpet, to launch themselves upon the two battalions which were crossing over. Those warlike sons of the continent felt the certainty of victory. Netto and they had never been conquered. The infantry, échalloned by divisions, on the highest part of the hill, and covered by its verge, were crying out for battle. The terrible lancers of Canabarro had already made a movement forward, confusing the right flank of the enemy, which was therefore obliged to change front in confusion. The brave freedmen, proud of their force, became more firm and resolute; and that incomparable corps presented to view a forest of lances, being composed entirely of slaves liberated by the Republic, and chosen from the best horse-tamers in the province, and all of them blacks, even the superior officers. The enemy had never seen the backs of those true sons of liberty. Their lances, which were longer than the common measure, their ebony faces and robust limbs, strengthened by perennial and laborious exercise, and their perfect discipline, struck terror into the enemy. The animating voice of the General-in-chief had been heard, as he rode along the lines: "Every one of you must fight for four men to-day!" These were the few and only words of that distinguished man, who possessed all the qualities of a great captain, except good fortune. Every heart seemed to feel the palpitation of war, and the confidence of victory. A more beautiful day, or a more splendid scene, was never beheld. The ground was scattered with a few low plants, and offered no obstacle to the view, so that everything was clearly visible, even the slightest movement, and, as it were, all under my feet. In a few minutes was to be decided the fate of the largest part of the American continent, with the destinies of a numerous people. Those bodies of men, so compact, so orderly and steady, in a few moments will be broken up, and some of them thrown into confusion and defeated. Soon, the blood, the mangled limbs, and the corpses of many of those young men will disfigure the beautiful fields. Yes: now all are waiting and panting for the signal of battle.—Yet in vain was all that preparation, vain the expectation; that field was not to be a field of slaughter.