and the blood was streaming down from his head. He threw himself for support against the wall, and then slid down upon a chair, for some time unable to speak. The man had been dreadfully beaten, and for aught we knew to the contrary, might be in a dying state. But what did this head of the police? He bellowed out to him most brutally, and asked him how he dared sit in a chair; then went up to him and, I think, kicked him. The poor fellow had been very ill-treated by some of the banditti, and in his own house. Our friend arrived, and, of course, could give no other account of my mother's Christian name than I had; but, after much demur, it was allowed to pass; and long indeed, was the deposition in taking, after every few sentences that he had dictated to his clerk, making him read out the whole that was written, cursing him pretty handsomely for his diction, and directing amendments. At length the business is finished, but not without our excellent friend the Frenchman finding it to his interest to see the head of the police. I saw him give him money. All this while the poor country fellow was obliged to stand, lean, or lie bleeding as he could. To finish the tale of the bandits, it may be as well here to add, that the day following they blockaded the little town of Eboli, where was a government telegraph. Why, I did not hear, but I learned that a band of soldiers was sent after them, that an action took place, the captain of the banditti killed, and their plunder retaken. Some time afterwards we made application to the British consul at Naples, as I was anxious to recover my watch and seals. But he plainly told us we had not the slightest chance of ever seeing them again, that they were in the hands of the police, and had only changed hands of robbers. He took an account of the matter, for the use of our own government, and it is, I dare say, in one of the public offices. The British consul remarked, that in England to see a countryman at work in a field is a protection; but if you see one in that country at work, keep your eye on him, for 'tis ten to one but he takes up a gun, and, if he hits you, knows what to do—if he misses, goes on with his work. In fact, we found that no man could go half-a-mile from the town of Salerno to visit his garden or his vineyard, without being well

armed, and even then it would be imprudent without taking others with him. Our object had been to see Pæstum, and in this we did not like to be baffled. We spent a most agreeable day with our friends the Italian noblernan and the French family, and arranged our plan of going by water, and received letters to a gentleman who resided not far from Pæstum, and there we were to go first.

Now it

We procured a boat, and some pains were taken to secure us honest boatmen. We crossed the bay, but missed the house to which we had been directed. We saw but one house, and made direct for that, and a curious scene it was a most lonely region of barren and not very high mountains, nor was there any sign of a habitation to be seen but this one rather large and uncouth-looking house. On entering the court we found the walk up to the door on each side well protected by men all lying down, completely armed, not less than from twenty to thirty-more banditti-looking fellows could not well be seen. happened strangely enough, that the person to whom our letters were directed bore the same name as the owner of this cut-throat-looking mansion; we were, therefore, told to walk forward on showing the letter. We perceived a room full of persons all armed, and the owner was pointed out to us. We delivered our letter he opened it-it was not for him, he said surlily-and then turned to his own concerns, leaving us to ours. This was not very promising, so we made the best of our way off, and proceeded direct to Pæstum, and did not arrive there till sunset, and had but a very scant view of the beautiful temples. They looked, in the dim light, very grand and solitary, for not a habitation nor sign of one did we see, though an old man wanted us to sleep at his house-where it was, unless under ground, we could not conceive. We had heard that these were honest people. But it was too lonely and unpromising, and we determined to return to Salerno in the boat. It was then calm, but we had not proceeded far when the sky lowered, and soon the sea rose, and roared, and there was a perfect storm. It was very frightful-the night dark, and the thunder and lightning terrific. I know not how our little boat contrived to live in it; perhaps there was no real danger, yet it was a most awful night. We did,

however, arrive safe, and were glad to get the shelter of even an Italian inn, and thus ended our adventure to see Pæstum, once famed for roses, but now a most desolate place. Not far from it we were much struck with the little town Agropoli, perched upon the rock, still bearing its Grecian name, and indicating the people who had built those vast temples. I am not going, Eusebius, to moralize on the vanity of grandeur, and instability of human affairs, or I might bore you with a long quotation of Sulpicius's letter to Cicero, who, after all, might have replied, "what are all these places to me?—I have lost my child." So will I say, "what is it to me what Pæstum was or is ?—I have lost my watch, and my purse, my coat, and waistcoat, and pantaloons." Nor wonder at this cold and unromantic view; remember we have been drenched with rain, in a terrific thunder-storm, in peril of being drowned, and not very much the wiser for our sight-seeing. Now, if you tell my adventures by the fireside, and any one snug in his own conceit and happiness should chance to be merry at my expense, and treat with contempt our imagined pusillanimity in suffering ourselves to be stript, let him know, Eusebius, that I should not think it a very unbecoming position to be hatching turkeys (an employment that has been celebrated,) thereby to save life.

After all, it is but submission, and that to necessity; and, to suffer is not to do a mean action. "Omnis Aristippum debuit color:" and though I mean not to have my portrait taken in statu quo, I know not why we should be ashamed of our complexions. Besides, Mr. Placidity, with ten stout fellows pulling at your arms and legs, I should like you to tell me how long your buttons would hold, to say no. thing of the risk of having your arms pulled out of their sockets. However, like it or not, so the fact was, and I love to tell the naked truth, and there is one virtue against the one vice, if it be one. They say no man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre, and we had the honour of many who very handsomely helped us off with our clothes; and that's all that need be said about it. But the villanous Italians are habitually pusillanimous, and so, instead of extirpating the evil, try to laugh it off, when only their neighbours suffer. I saw on the stage a month or two afterwards an

exact representation of such a robbery, exact to the very dress, and when the unfortunates were ordered "faccia a terra," the whole house was in laughter. It is now so long since, that I cannot tell the names of places, perhaps at the time scarcely known. But I remember, long before this last robbery, travelling by veturino, I walked on half a mile before the carriage. It was a mountainous region; on a sudden I perceived on a rocky ground a little above the road, and not fifty yards from me, two men lying, well armed, and to all appearance a part of banditti. On seeing me they looked along the road I had come, and saw the carriage. One of them rose and went over the brow of the rising ground, and returned with three or four more, all similarly armed. They were in consultation. I did not much like their position, but assuming a carelessness, I whistled, and very leisurely walked back to the carriage, rather expecting a messenger, in a shot, after me. When I reached the carriage, I mounted and took my seat by the veturino, who looked very much frightened when I told him what I had seen. Straight forward we went, and I could not help being amused, in spite of the danger, when we came opposite the armed mountaineers, to see the veturino duck down his head, and put himself into as small compass as he could, (with his wide mouth open, and a look expressive of terror,) that I should cover him and receive the first shot. We were then near a turn of the road, so that the position of these bandits, if they were such, commanded two directions; we saw them perplexed, and soon divined the cause; for with great rapidity at that moment a travelling carriage and four turned the corner of the road and passed us, by which we were allowed to pass on and escaped. On another occasion, myself and friend very narrowly missed falling into the hands of a band that went out purposely to lie in wait for us. had arrived at Palestrina, the ancient Præneste, where Horace read Homer. There was no inn in the place, we had walked across the mountains with a guide from Vicovaro, but we found a house that would receive us ;-they appeared rather a poor family. It being understood that we should want a guide to proceed across the country next morning, one appeared and offered his services. While

We

we were talking with him, an old woman of the family gave me such significant looks that I could not mistake her meaning; accordingly I broke off the conference, and under some pretence, dismissed the man. When he had left the room, the old woman told me it was very fortunate we had not agreed with him, for he was one of the bad people; and as we liked her looks, and she promised to procure us an honest guide, we trusted her, and were not disappointed. Our new guide told us there was danger, but bade us take no notice, and give out that we should leave at one hour and for one direction, but set off an hour earlier, and a different way. We did so; and, taking a lower road, we observed, as our guide pointed them out to us, a band of them that had left the town by a higher road, and were gone to lie in wait for us. If you think that escape not worth relating, it has not occupied you long. And now, for change of scene, I will take you to a convent. We had gone to see the site of Horace's farm, the Mons Lucretilis, and the "gelidus Digentia rivus,' both celebrated by the poet, the one from the wolf flying from him

"Namque me sylva lupus in Sabinâ :"

the other as his bathing river

"Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus:"

and cold the waters are, for I bathed in them, though an old countryman forewarned me, "fa morire." And now shall make a digression upon bathing, only to remark, that the modern are unlike the old inhabitants in this also, they never bathe, they have a dread of water; and some that 1 questioned confessed that they never washed hands or face. All this region among the hills is very picturesque; but the "sweetly smiling and sweetly speaking" Lalages are no more. Liking the scenery, we took up our abode at a large convent, not far from a miserable, old, but picturesque, small town, Vico-varo, the convent of St. Corimo, overhanging a ravine with a mountain torrent at its base, and in the rocky descent are many excavated cells. Ere the progress of the French Revolution had dis