oath was pledged upon the altar that they would expel the sanguinary invaders from their native soil, or die in the attempt.

It was an affecting sight to see those self-devoted heroes parting from their families and friends. Mothers and maidens, amid all the anxious emotions which fill the female heart with apprehension, looked with glowing pride upon the men they loved; and the small but firm phalanx bade adieu to their peaceful habitations, and to those whom danger bound more strongly round their hearts, determined that no disgrace should tarnish their fair fame.

Galeazzo and his band of patriots marched towards the enemy, and nearly the whole of them fell in the desperate struggle for liberty. They had, however, inspired their countrymen with fresh vigour, and the career of Napoleon was for a short time checked. The gallant conduct of Galeazzo, who still survived, pointed him out as a fit person to assume a higher command: a number of select and welltried men were therefore placed at his disposal, and, without risking a general engagement, he commenced that species of guerilla warfare which afterwards became so terrible to the French.

But Fortune, which at first crowned the efforts of Galeazzo with success, at length forsook him in an evil hour he fell into a snare that had been laid to entrap him his men were either killed or dispersed, and, wounded almost to death, he returned to his own estate, to aid the flight of his family to the mountains.

Almost fainting with the loss of blood, he arrived at the midnight hour on the borders of his vineyards. But the hand of the Destroyer had been speedy; the red hue of the crackling flames streamed upon his sight, and, overpowered with agony and weakness, he sank to the ground behind a hedge of myrtle that screened him from observation. Insensibility would have been a blessing, but it came not; for, though unable to rise from the spot where he had fallen, his mind was still acutely alive to all that passed within his view. He saw his little innocents butchered by the murderous hands of the inebriated troops; he saw his beautiful wife struggling in vain against the brutal violence of the soldiery he beheld the bodies of his children

Their silver skins laced with their golden blood→→

thrown among the burning embers of their once happy home. His soul sickened at the spectacle, and his senses forsook him.

At length the ruthless passions of the troops were satiated: demolition ceased, for there was nothing more to destroy; and they quitted the work of their impious hands to immolate other victims, and to offer fresh sacrifices at the shrine of Napoleon's ambition.

Morning dawned upon the wretched sufferer, who awoke once more to sense and misery; yet all around was calm, except when the solemn stillness was broken by the piercing death-shriek of some poor wretch in his mortal agony, or the distant discharge of artillery that told a tale of slaughter. Still, serenely beautiful was the clear blue sky, tinged with the golden radience of the sun; and the blushing flowers that had drunk the moistening dew breathed forth their odours to the morning breeze, blending the soul of sweetness with the cooling winds. But the song of the peasant, as he early plied his wonted task among the purple clusters of the vine was heard no more. The very birds, scared by the blackening smoke that curled towards the heavens, and, like the blood of Abel, cried for vengeance, had left the spot where desolation triumphed.

Life was rapidly passing away from the wretched Galeazzo; his wounds had burst out afresh in his struggles to rise, and he felt approaching dissolution spread its film over his eyes: still he continued fearfully sensible of his situation, and waited for the hour when his mortal agony should cease.

At this moment the whole expanse was filled with a wild unnatural yell, like the mingling laugh and shriek of the tortured maniac; and a female figure, her hair dishevelled and hanging on her bare and bleeding bosom, her white dress rent and deeply stained with human gore, appeared upon the lawn. Her left hand was writhed in the hair of a French soldier, who was wounded beyond the power of resistance; and, with strength almost surpassing nature, she dragged him towards the still glowing ashes of her once joyous habitation. Her right hand grasped a dagger which was reeking with blood, and there she stood like another Hecate over her fallen prey. There was a maddened laugh-a scream-a shout of triumph-as she buried the ruddy steel in the body of the soldier, then flashed it in the sun, and

again plunged it to the hilt in his breast. She gazed upon her prostrate enemy with the fiend-like expression of a demon, and seemed to feel a terrible gratification in turning over every mangled corpse that bore the uniform of France, and with a direful vengeance thrusting the dagger into many a heart that had long ceased to beat. Unsatiated by revenge, she looked around for fresh offerings to her fury, and at length came to the spot where Galeazzo was crouched,

Breathing the slow remains of life away. She looked on his sunken eye and hollow cheek, and, raising the weapon in her hand, "Die, wretch," said she, " for thou hast nought to live for now!" But Nature refused compliance with her purpose; the dagger dropped from her unnerved grasp, and she fell senseless by his side-it was

his wife!

The French army continued to advance almost unmolested, and thousands fled to the mountains to escape the ravages of war. But, though these remained quiescent and passive at first; yet when the impulse of terror had subsided, the guerillas again formed themselves into an organized band, and swore eternal enmity to France. Their leader was a man of dauntless intrepidity and cool determination. Ever foremost in the conflict, and always the last in the retreat, he soon became a conspicuous object of the invaders; and, when the army encamped near Capua, his single hand performed prodigies of valour. The outposts were constantly attacked; the sentinels, even in the very centre of the main body, were found dead upon their post; and but few of the foraging parties ever returned to supply the wants of the soldiery. All succour was cut off from the seaward by the British cruisers, and provisions began rapidly to diminish, in spite of even the masterly commissariat of Buonaparte.

The officers had been accustomed to make excursions into the surrounding country, but this was at last forbidden, for there was scarcely a jutting crag or a thicket that did not conceal a desperate enemy, whose shining blade or long fusee was prompt to deal destruction. In vain were whole brigades called out to scour the country-the guerillas were secure in their mountain-holds, and bade defiance to their foes. Attempts were made to dis

lodge them from their positions, but they were utterly fruitless; for, though a few prisoners fell into the hands of the French, and, after suffering torture, were hung upon the branches of trees, as spectacles for their companions, yet this did but instigate them to firmer resolve and to deeper revenge.

The chief had been known repeatedly to visit the camp of the invading army in disguise, and once, on being detected and pursued, the bullets whistled round him in every direction, but he escaped unhurt, and superstition whispered that his body was impervious to shot. The sentinels declared that they had seen him assume a variety of shapes, for he was sometimes perceived in the form of a wolf stealing from bush to bush, and then he would suddenly emerge in all the vigour and pride of manhood: but pursuit seemed useless, for he was said to disappear so suddenly, that none but those who were under the protection of superhuman agency could otherwise have escaped. A general consternation spread among the soldiery; even the commanders caught the infection, and this desperate leader became known to the whole army under the appellation of Frère du Diable. Large rewards were set upon his head; many of the officers bound themselves by oath to take him, dead or alive, but their oath was generally sealed in death. Oftentimes, when the wine was set upon the convivial board, and the canvass walls echoed to the sounds of mirth, the alarm was given that Frère du Diable was in the camp, and every weapon was prepared, and every eye alert, for action. Oftentimes, at the evening hour, when the generous liquor had warmed the flagging courage, would some one or other, more bold than his companions, laugh at their pusillanimity, and swear to destroy the common foe: but the morning light generally saw him a corpse, with some certain token that either Frère du Diable or one of his comrades had dealt the blow.

It was about this time that Sir Sidney Smith commanded a fine frigate in the Mediterranean, and few men were better adapted for the conducting that sort of amphibious warfare which attended the hostilities on the shores of Italy. Daimtless intrepidity and daring resolution were mingled with a skilful knowledge of his profession, and there was a certain degree of romantic enthusiasm in his enterprises

which strongly displayed his adventurous and chivalrous spirit. The defeat of the French at Acre, and other places, was an incontestible proof how well he could conduct operations on land: and, in boarding and cutting out the vessels of the enemy from under the embrasures of well-mounted batteries, or in storming the batteries themselves, his cool courage and his steady skill were regarded as pledges of victory by the intrepid seamen. But his chief delight was to lead his men, under the cover of the twilight glow of an Italian night, through the dark mazes of the forest, or winding among the huge masses of rock that lined the coast, where the wild guerilla crossed his path, or joined his band and gave intelligence of the enemy.

It would be impossible for language to do adequate justice to such a scene. The slow movements of a hundred men, who crept from bush to bush without a whisper -the cautious and silent advance upon the enemy-the red watch-fire that marked the temporary encampment of the French, and the occasional challenge of the drowsy sentinel at the outpost, which died away upon the breeze as tranquillity was restored the crouching down in breathless silence till suspicion was lulled-oh! there was a degree of enchantment in the whole which then was realized, but cannot now be described.

To the seamen these expeditions were a source of real amusement and they afforded them repeated opportunities for indulging in their characteristic humour. When the word was passed for the boats to be manned (and none but volunteers were permitted to go with the captain) the hoarse voice of the boatswain's mate followed his shrill pipe, and, as the words "Bush-fighters, away!" resounded down the hatchways, every man fore and aft knew the purport of the summons, and all would gladly have joined the party for the shore.

But, though I say all, it must be admitted that the old master was an exception; he would have fought the devil himself in his ship, or would have run her flying-jib-boom into the very quarters of his satanic majesty, if he had caught him afloat; but he had no idea of "landprivateering," as he termed it. "A sailor," he said, "always gets out of soundings ashore, and, without knowing his bearings and distances, generally runs upon a false

reckoning." The fact was, he was as much a piece of the frigate as any timberhead on her hull; and nothing short of being wrecked or blown up could have separated them.

Sir Sidney had obtained intelligence that Frère du Diable was in the neighbourhood of his cruising-ground, and, wishing to communicate with him, for the purpose of ascertaining the precise situation and operations of the French; the boats were manned and armed, and, an hour before daybreak, the whole party landed in a small cove, formed by rocks that entirely concealed from view the means of debarkation.

Leaving the principal portion of the men by the boats, with strict orders to the officer not to suffer any one to stray away, but to be extremely vigilant, Sir Sidney, with a lieutenant, two midshipmen, and twelve men, proceeded on his way, over rock and stone, through bush and briar, towards the spot where it was most pro bable the guerilla chief would be found. It was a lovely morning: the stars still glistened in the clear blue heaven of an Italian sky, and there was that sort of dubious light which greatly added to the beauty of the romantic scenery. Sometimes the party had to climb by aid of their hands and knees to the summit of the frowning precipice, and at others to slide down hugh masses of rock; so necessary was it to keep from every beaten track, for the purpose of avoiding any stragglers from the enemy's camp who might raise an alarm.

At length, after considerable exertion, and just as the sun appeared above the verge of the horizon, they arrived at a place in the interior of a thick forest, and nearly at the extreme height of a mountain, which evidently displayed strong lines of defence, but so inartificially contrived as to appear more the work of Nature than of the hand of man. Hugh trees lay piled in various directions, as if thrown down by some gust of the wild tempest, yet in such positions as to afford occasional shelter to a retreating party, and offering an admirable post for harassing an advancing foe.

Scarcely was the first of these barriers passed when a shrill whistle sounded close to them, and, in a few minutes, they burst into an open space, that had been cleared of the underwood and some of the trees, and now formed a pleasant alcove. Here