constitution, and paying a visit to
his Majesty, the Elect of December, with a rough-and-tumble suite of
Republican bravos. Assuredly, were such a thing possible in Paris, the
gentlemen in question would very shortly be reviling English hospitality
under its protecting aegis, if not dying of fever at Cayenne. Nor could
Rosas, who was at that time far less firmly seated on his throne than is
at present the man who wields the destinies of France, endure so powerful
a rival in his vicinity. But how to get rid of him? Assassination, by
which a minor offender was so speedily put out of the way, could not
safely be attempted with a man who yet retained a singular mastery over
the minds of thousands of brutal and strong-armed horsemen; a false step
would result in inevitable destruction; and many anxious days were spent
by the gloomy tyrant ere he could decide upon a plan for disposing of his
inconvenient friend.

In the midst of this perplexity intelligence was received of a
disagreement between the governments of Salta, Tucuman, and Santiago,
provinces of the interior, which threatened to expand into warlike
proceedings. Rosas sent for Quiroga. No one but the hero of La Rioja, he
insinuated, had sufficient influence to bring about a settlement of these
disputes; no one but he had power to prevent a war; would he not,
therefore, hasten to Tucuman, and obviate so dire a calamity? Quiroga
hesitated, refused, consented, wavered, and again declined the task. With
a vacillation to which he had hitherto been a stranger, he remained for
many days undecided; a suspicion of deceit appears to have presented
itself to his mind; but at length he resolved to accept the commission.
His hesitation, meanwhile, had completed his ruin; it had given time for
the maturing of deadly plans.

In midsummer, 1835, (December 18th,) the Gaucho chieftain commenced his
fateful journey. As he entered the carriage which was to be his home for
many days, and bade farewell to the adherents who were assembled to
witness his departure, he turned toward the city with a wild expression
and words that were remembered afterwards. _Si salgo bien_, he said, _te
volevre a ver; si no, adios para siempre!_ "If I succeed, I shall see thee
again; if not, farewell forever!" Was it a presentiment of the truth which
came upon him, like that which clouded the great mind of the first
Napoleon as he left the Tuileries when the Hundred Days were running out?

One hour before