The watchman, before I left him, gave me a manuscript containing his mother's story, which, though interesting, is too long to give here. I hurried away from the tower, feeling that it was, perhaps, an illomened place, yet, that if haunted by spirits, they were not altogether of an evil sort; and though mischievous, ready to undo the worst of their tricks. I was not sorry, when I returned to my own home, to know, that, as we live on the parterre, our children are pretty safe even if they should fall. JOHN GIBSON. could hear the sounds more distinctly, still we could | you have heard about them, I think you cannot see nothing, and following what we fancied must be wonder at our decision. the direction of the cries, we went on into a room near this one, and only divided by a small passage. This little room was used for lumber and for drying clothes, and was usually locked up, but the servant had been there sorting clothes for the wash that morning, and had evidently left it open after her. We had over and over again searched in this, as well as in every part of the dwelling. The sounds now became much more intelligible, and, going to the window, which was open, -it often was left open to enable the clothes to dry, we could clearly distinguish a child's voice crying out, Mamma, Sophie,' the name of our servant. Our hearts leaped for joy: it was our darling's voice. His cries, heart- THE death of this most distinguished sculptor of rending as they were, and hoarse with long scream- our modern school occurred at Rome, on the 27th ing, were like the music of the spheres to us. They of January. Though he had lived to an age when appeared to ascend from somewhere underneath the most men are but the shadows of their former selves, window; we threw the light from our candle down yet Gibson retained all the young-mindedness of his upon what? Upon something dark below, early days, and much of the vigor of his manhood. some large object against the wall, about six feet His fine countenance showed few of the ordinary from the window-sill. When our eyes had become signs of age; his full hair and beard were scarcely accustomed to the uncertain light, we beheld our more gray than at forty; and his dark eye had not child sitting in our large water-tub. We did not, been dimmed at all. Like many Welshmen, Gibson you may be sure, linger long over our exclamations had a decidedly Italian cast of features, with a grave, of wonder and of joy, but quickly pulled up the thoughtful, and amiable expression, which was bucket with its precious burden. You are, doubt- strengthened by his pleasant and simple manners. less, madaine, anxious to know how it came that the There was never anything very forcible or demonbucket happened to be hanging in that way, also strative about him, although his views, when once how it was that the woman who had seen the child settled in his own mind, were held with a degree of fall did not remark it. I will explain both. I found tenacity and firmness that might have been mistaken that our boys, hearing there was a grand wash in for obstinacy. The most remarkable instance of this prospect for the day after, had taken the bucket was in his taking up the practice of coloring his statfrom the place where it usually was kept, and had ues in the late years of his career, and after he had suspended it from some large iron staves which were attained to the height of his fame. He had then used for hanging on the double windows we were become an autocrat, and perhaps the opposition that obliged to use in the winter. This they did, know- was raised, and always will be, against coloring stating that there was no soft water in the large rain- ues rather led him into the extreme assertions which water butt in the yard the season having been he made in the Venus which occupied so prominent remarkably dry — for the purpose of collecting the a position at the International Exhibition of 1862, rain which had been threatening to descend that the Cupid, and a Hebe, which we remember seemorning. The woman's window opposite only com- ing in his studio at Rome. He often said that the manded a partial view, as I told you before, of the coloring of statuary was a most delicate matter, and tower; and upon visiting her room, which I after- he thought no one understood it as he did himself; wards did to see, I was aware of the impossibility of but it cannot be overlooked that the great man her seeing the bucket, for another roof came be- never ventured to apply it to his greatest works. It tween, and only the window and about four feet be- seemed to us that he played with it rather as if in neath it of wall were discernible from her window. the indulgence of a fancy, and for the sake of vindiNor was the bucket to be seen from the lane, for the cating this knowledge of antique practice of the art. window from which it hung was at the side of the His noble statue of "The Hunter," a nude figure tower. The wind must have blown the hat and pe- of a man holding back a hound, which for its style, lisse aside as they were falling, and they had alighted as well as the extraordinary vigor and originality of under the window in the children's room, from whence conception, has been compared with the antique, was my wife had discovered them lying in the lane. The not touched with color, although it was finished in west-wind had been blowing hard all the day. In 1851, only a few years before his Venus. A Youththese sudden emergencies people seldom reason log-ful Bacchus, also one of his latest, and certainly one ically, if they reason at all; but, of course, a little of his most beautiful works, remains uncolored. It is quiet survey of the bearings of the case would prob- not necessary to enter into the argument as to the ably have led to an earlier dénouement of this mys- correctness of such a view; the allusion is sufficient tery. The little boy had been playing with some to point out Gibson's strong opinions upon the subtoys at the lumber-room window, and had dropped ject, which, indeed, became the most remarkable his little horse-and-cart into the bucket, in endeav-feature in his artistic career, next to his great genius oring to recover which he must have fallen, for we as a sculptor after the antique style. found the toy lying under him when we took him out. The clothes which he had thrown out were, it appears, those which the servant had laid upon a chair in the nursery ready to put on the child, and which he must have carried over into the lumberroom with him. These are the three frights and the accident which are the cause of our determination to leave our home in this tower, madame; and, now That Gibson should have achieved so much in emulation of the great models of antique art, is due entirely to his own great natural gifts. As the son of a gardener at Conway, he had no sort of classical education, nor did he even obtain this after he went to Liverpool with his father to be apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. His time was occupied simply in training his hand to the wood-carving for his trade, and probably his only ideas of Greek art were ob- and the two or three years after he left Canova, tained from any plaster casts which might have hap- the groups referred to were executed. He was led pened to be in the shop of Mr. Francis, the marble-to design these groups probably from having seen mason, to whom he was transferred as an apprentice. It was here, however, that he became acquainted with Mr. Roscoe, whose notice had been attracted by a small figure of "Time," modelled in wax by young Gibson, and we may suppose that Mr. Roscoe's library, with its collection of engravings, contained many examples of classic art which were a new world to the young marble carver. The talent for modelling which he showed procured him many friends, and the means were soon found for giving him the advantages of studying at Rome. It does not appear that he ever entered at the Academy, as Flaxman did, while a boy in his father's plaster figure-shop in the Strand, but made his way entirely after studying at Rome. He arrived there in 1817, in his twenty-seventh year, and it was not till 1833 that he was admitted as Associate of the Academy, to be, however, elected a full Academician in three years' time; so that he made a very decided impression at this time, though his works were not to be compared for a moment with those he produced nearly twenty years afterwards, when at the very ripe age of fifty-eight. Canova and the Danish sculptor, Thorwaldsen, oc- sketch of the group, which afterwards in the marble became his greatest work. Another signal proof of his great power in idealizing may be noticed in the very beautiful head called "Grazia," which was modelled from a Capuan girl, who no doubt was just such a model as the Greeks chose, and Gibson did' what they did in giving his work all the ideal grandeur of a goddess. His bas-reliefs of " Phaeton driving the Chariot of Phoebus," and "The Hours," personified according to the Greek myth by the three daughters of Zeus, harnessing the horses of Phoebus, which were done at Earl Fitzwilliam's request for His whole artistic life was spent at Rome, with rare visits to England, and he troubled himself little with the duties of an Academician. Gibson's first manner was precisely in accordance with the prevailing taste of the day for statues classical in name only. As to style, there was then nothing thought of but that of which Canova had set the fashion, and which was taken up by the French sculptors even more warmly than it was by the English. Flaxman The story goes that Gibson was one day in an had produced but little impression by his very few idle mood looking out of his window down into the statues; however, his power was universally admit- streets of Rome, and saw a young man of the Camted to be great in the outlines he did in illustration pagna holding back his dog, which had attacked anof Eschylus and Homer, and Thorwaldsen was other one, and was straining for the fight. The idea only beginning to be known, although never to ex-struck him at once, and he hastened to make a ercise so much influence perhaps as Gibson himself has since held. It was from Canova, who took him as a pupil, that Gibson learnt the simply graceful and picturesque style of his first groups of "Mars and Cupid," Psyche borne by the Zephyrs, and Hylas borne by the Nymphs, two similar groups, in which Psyche and Hylas are carried on the shoulders of two nymphs. These were sculptured about 1821, after he left Canova, and had set up for himself at Rome. The attention he excited by these works must have been considerable, for some were purchased by the Duke of Devonshire, the Psyche by Sir George Beaumont, the well-known amateur, and, as a replica, by the present Emperor of Russia and Prince Torlonia, while the Hylas was bought by Mr. Vernon, and stands now in the National Gallery amongst the rest of the Vernon bequests to the nation. These groups were all of them marked by a good deal of poetic feeling, but in none of them can we perceive that deep insight into the antique which Gibson showed in the productions of his maturer years. They were, as we have said, not in advance of his contemporaries as regarded style, but they were very greatly superior in conception, and as groups they were wrought with technical skill of a high order. It is remarkable of them also that they were the first result of his serious study at Rome, and must have been designed and modelled with the greatest facility, from the short time, not more than four or five years, occupied in the work. something about horses," may be named amongst the most beautiful examples of bas-relief in existence. These again were completely the result of the sculptor's devoted study of nature. When he undertook the commission he had never modelled a horse from the life, but he began by buying the most beautiful creature he could find, and this he made his model. Casts of these noble bas-reliefs are to be seen in the collection of the Crystal Palace, as well as several other works by him. The great merit of Gibson's bas-relief is in the nobleness and grandeur of the style, without anything approaching to that servile following of the antique which we see so frequently in modern bas-relief. His horses remind us of the Parthenon frieze, and yet they have more wildness and fiery grace in their plunging forms. He was especially fond of this line of sculp ture, and frequently amused himself latterly with It was in 1817 that he entered Canova's studio, modelling small groups from the legend of Psyche, where he worked four years, and during this time | but with the exception of the two great works men tioned, and the Jocasta and her Sons, he has left | through the softening haze of romance, is a difnothing very remarkable. Intermediate between those works we have referred to as his greatest achievements, and which were the product of his genius at its maturity, were those which he did while studying the beauties of the Vatican, the Capitol, the Ludovisi, and the Borghese collections at Rome. In his "Cupid" he has evidently been much influenced by the love-age, now gorging himself with meat, and now faintly figures of the Capitol and the Vatican. His "Wounded Amazon" is another figure the idea of which is borrowed from the antique, with less freedom of natural study than his mastery of later years enabled him to give. The "Venus Vincitrice" was in the common classical style, as was also a Flora and a group of Venus and Cupid, in which he followed the well-known antique of the half-kneeling Venus. The tinted "Venus" was a feeble work compared with his "Hunter" and the " Bacchus"; it was completely Roman in taste, and could not be said to be improved by the coloring. In portrait-statues of the monumental order Gibson did not undertake much, and it cannot be said that his taste inclined him to works of this kind. His best portrait-statue was that of Huskisson, which he modelled, however, we presume, from sketches, as this statesman met his death many years before 1847, when the statue was sculptured. This statue, in marble, is in the Royal Exchange, and a copy in bronze ornaments the Liverpool Exchange, both presented by the widow of Mr. Huskisson, for whom Gibson undertook the commission. He also executed a statue of the Queen, which is, we believe, at Windsor, and another in a kind of semi-allegorical style, representing the Queen seated, and supported by figures of Justice and Clemency, which is in the Prince's Chamber in the House of Lords. ferent creature. A greedy, truculent, half-starved coward, whose life is one of perpetual fear, who shivers with terror if the troops be within hail, and whose greatest exploits are performed by overwhelming numbers against defenceless passers-by, -a mean thief stealing shirts and stockings, and bits of stale bread from a helpless captive,-a saving for want of food,-inexpressibly dirty and shabby, brutal to the woman who has temporarily united herself to him, alternately the tyrant and the victim, the extortioner and the prey of the peasant, the bandit, as Mr. Moens found and has described him, is about as repulsive a ruffian as one would wish not to see anywhere; the brigand of romance and reality having no more resemblance to cach other than Voltaire's Huron has to the stamping, grunting rascal who quails before a "medicineman with a bladder rattle, but who takes the scalp of a fallen enemy as his version of "Who's afraid?" There never was a book which took all the romance out of a thing more completely than this dashing and unaffected narrative of the English traveller who went down to Pæstum, and fell among thieves by the way. From the first page to the last there is not a single trait of heroism to enliven the prosaic brutality of the men. Nothing but hardship, selfishness, and fear. Like the savage, whose mode of living he affects, the brigand's whole existence is one of suspicion and terror. He is afraid of everything,-of sickness, of death, of the peasants, of the soldiers, of the kinsfolk, of his wife. At every turn some peril, beyond the usual peril of human life, meets him face to face; and familiarity, far from producing contempt Great sculptors are not so common in the world of danger, only serves to sharpen his faculties in the of art that we can see them pass away, without an perception of it, and to keep his fears forever alive. anxious regret lest we should never look upon their Even in the ordinary danger of their trade they are like again. Flaxman died without fulfilling all the cowards. When the soldiers were once close to promise of his many beautiful sketches; he never some of them, "Pavoni's teeth were all chattering, had the opportunity that he would have had in and he was as white as a sheet; Scope was the these days, although modern sculpture owes much same, and lying on the groud; and Antonio was in to him. Gibson carried the art to a higher point of such a state of fear and shaking, that he kept strikexcellence in the same direction, and has left stilling his gun against the rocky sides of the cave, and brighter examples. A favorite project of the late eminent sculptor, and one that does high honor to his public spirit, was the founding of a gallery of all the finest examples of sculpture, for the use of the Royal Academy, for which purpose he offered to give the noble legacy of £30,000. Whether this was ever accepted, and how far the scheme is likely to be carried out, will, it is to be hoped, soon be known among the other good intentions of the Academy on which so much now depends. REAL BRIGANDS. THE poetic brigand of noble impulses and elevated intellect, who has been driven to a lawless life by the oppression of man, and who is merely a hero turned the wrong side out, that mysterious and glorious creature who sits on a rock talking to himself, and apostrophizing the moon, his mother, and the distant sheep-bells below, while confiding Medora or devoted Gulnare watches for his coming or waits on his moods, that courtly gentleman of the greenwood, who is brave to his foes, generous to the vanquished, and chivalrous to woman, is doubtless a very fascinating personage, especially to the young; but the real brigand, seen as he is, and not making a great noise, to the dismay of all. I sat down on a stone, and, to reassure them, said, 'Courage, courage; eat a little'; and, to set the example, took some bread and meat out of my pocket, and began eating it. My doing so enraged them to a great extent, and they said, What a fool you are to begin to eat when you will be dead in two minutes!"" Indeed, the self-possession of this Englishman, and his contempt of death and danger, stand out at all times in startling contrast to their incessant fear; and this, together with his quickness of observation, his power of enduring fatigue, his cool good temper, and his "cleverness" of hand and eye, gave him a certain hold on their esteem and rough good-fellowship, which probably saved him from many a torture. For he was not ill treated on the whole. The band itself fared ill. Hunted by the soldiers into a strange country where they were not sure of the peasantry, by whose connivance alone they exist; without shelter at all times; often without food; living like wild beasts driven from lair to lair, they had but a bad time of it. Except in the thievings and ill-humor of two worthies, Pepino and Scope, the * English Travellers and Italian Bandits. By W. J. C. MOES. Englishman shared the fortunes of the rest pretty equally. There was always the great difference of state which could be got over, that he was a prisoner, and had to be watched and guarded, and hidden out of sight (which was not always easy, seeing that he was the tallest of the band, and towered a head and shoulders above any of them), while they were "companions," with guns, money, wives, and a certain amount of freedom, always stopping short of the liberty to escape, or to betray their comrades. The five brigandesses, with their short-cut hair, and dressed like the men, looked so like boys, that it was some time before Mr. Moens found out they were women. They were not a very fascinating quintette of womanhood, though not the bloodthirsty creatures they are often depicted; being just a group of strong-limbed, active, coarse-minded young women, able to bear an immense amount of privation and fatigue, but in no way remarkable for devotion, heroism, melancholy, or any other form of tragic sentiment. One girl though, poor Concetta, the chattel of Cicco Guange, showed immense courage and a kind of Red Indian stolidity of endurance, when her arm was broken by an accidental shot from one of the band. She bore the pain without flinching, not uttering a sound of complaint, but merely clenching her teeth together, and hissing through them when they were dressing her wound with a pair of scissors. And even when gangrene set in, and she was compelled to come down into the plains and give herself up to the authorities, and her arm was amputated, "she had so much nerve that she refused chloroform, and neither groaned nor complained. The only sign she gave of suffering was clenching her teeth. When the surgeons left her, she said, 'Remember, I had eighteen napoleons about me when I came here; I must have them again when I am well.'" Two of the five women belonging to Manzo's band carried guns, the other three revolvers. Their chief office seemed to be, to mend rent clothing, and to hem batches of new handkerchiefs, when they could get them,- -a gayly colored handkerchief being the brigand's gala dress; but for all womanly work of cooking, washing, baking, or the like, they were absolutely useless. The men were generally both butchers and cooks, when they managed to either steal or buy a sheep or a goat, while the peasants do all the rest, and at a rather larger profit than they could get by dealing with honester folk. necessaries, and the rest of their spoils would be lent out among their friends in the country at ten per cent interest. I recommended them to try Italian five per cent stock, as being safer than lending money on personal security. But they said they never lost any, and they feared the stock being confiscated by government." Thus the peasant is the great supporter and the great gainer by brigandage; though on the other hand it may be said that the risk he runs in carrying on any correspondence with the brigands renders it absolutely necessary that he should be well paid to make it worth his while. Indeed, between the authorities on the one side, with fine and imprisonment, or even death, as the punishment for collusion with the brigands, and the brigands on the other, with a vendetta carried out to the last extreme should any information be given to the authorities, and irreparable damage done to standing crops, to whole villages, and to individuals, should there be persistent refusal to forward supplies, the poor peasant has a difficult time of it. Very wary walking between his two hard taskmasters is necessary to keep his place in life. Then the brigands are generally old comrades and countrymen; with numberless small ties of friendship, relationship, and old association among the peasants, themselves, for the most part, brigands undeveloped. An unlucky thrust with the stiletto has made the one, and the same cause would make the other; public opinion in the plains and villages not bearing hardly on the "companions," but very much the reverse; high payment, defiance of the law, a picturesque uniform when clean and gay, and the repute of deeds of daring (never mind the actual cowardice), being generally sufficient to enlist popular sympathy for any body of men extant. But, after all, the peasants are really as criminal as the brigands themselves, for it is from them and the vetturini that these gentlemen gain their knowledge of the goings and comings of rich travellers, — foreign and home-bred, — and that if there were no such scouts and spies among the unsuspected, the career of the real criminals would soon be brought to a stand-still. Information to begin with, and food to follow,-with the reward of enormous prices for all they do, the peasants are the main-stays and supports of brigandage, and against them as the taproot should the vigilance and the vengeance of government be directed. Mr. Moens says but little concerning the presumed political connection between the brigands and Rome, "All the time I was in their hands," says Mr. and the ex-king. Certainly no part of his ransom, Moens, "I used to inquire the prices of various arti- he believes, went either to Rome, or to any part of cles of food in the towns, and got a very accurate the province of Salerno. He saw it himself paid idea of what the brigands paid for them; a pezzo, and distributed, each man present at the time of the their term for a ducat, equal to three shillings and capture getting his share, and a certain percentage fourpence, was the peasants' ordinary price for a kept back for the general expenses of the band. loaf weighing two rotoli (equal to about three and But he was told by them that Apulia was the heada half pounds English); this costs from threepence quarters of brigandage, and that there they had a to sixpence in the towns, according to whether it general named Crocco, who they said was in comwas made of rye, maize, or wheat, but it made no munication with Rome. He asked how many men. difference in the price paid by the brigands. A this Crocco had under him, and was answered, “A' coarse cotton shirt cost them two and a half ducats, thousand men and many captains, as well as six or eight shillings and fourpence; and washing one, hundred men in the Basilicata." They also told a ducat, or three shillings and fourpence; each car-him that, in 1861, Spanish generals came to lead tridge for a revolver cost the same, and everything those fighting for Francis the Second against Victor else in proportion. From a calculation I made Emmanuel, and that one of them, named Borjès, had when with them, I do not think that a band consist- an enormous black beard, which they said he always ing of from twenty-five to thirty men would spend held in his left hand when he drank milk, of which less than four thousand pounds a year for absolute | he was very fond. Their sympathies go decidedly with Bomba, in preference to Il Rè Galantuomo; for once when the conversation was becoming dangerously personal concerning Mr. Moens's ears, and "his beard with his chin attached," to turn the subject he asked Manzo, the captain, what they would do with Victor Emmanuel if they caught him? "They all chuckled at such an idea, and Manzo declared that he would have ten millions of ducats and then kill him. To Francis the Second, if they caught him, they said they would give a good dinner and then release him." freely. Even his gums were cut badly from the grinding against the ground. Manzo looked a perfect demon when excited; he curled up his lips, and showed all his teeth, and roared at his victim, jerking out his words. The implicit obedience generally shown to him by the members of his band was extraordinary. They loved him on account of his unselfishness as regards food, he being always willing to give away his own share, and they feared him because he had shown on one or two occasions that he did not scruple to shoot any of them on the spot if they refused to obey orders." When the "order of release" came for the prisoner in the shape of the last instalment of ransom, Manzo sent round the hat, in order that Mr. Moens should "go to Naples like a gentleman," and made up a sum of seventeen and a half napoleons, besides rings and other keepsakes. But this was not a very large percentage on a ransom of thirty thousand ducats; and the Englishman took all he could get, and asked for more, getting some things he wanted, but not others. He got Generoso's ring and knife,—the knife that had already taken the lives of two men, which he had whittled out a spoon, and carved a cross, and made many other little matters, to the intense admiration and amazement of the brigands; but he just missed by an accident a very thick and long gold chain, for which he asked Manzo, and which he would have had, but that the gentleman was called away while he was taking it off to present to him. He got five rings in all, which Manzo's mother made him show two peasants after he was free; and which she evidently considered reflected great dignity on her as the mother of one who had shown such princely generosity. One of the most curious things in this account is to trace the gradual hardening of the system, and the elimination of all British-bred fastidiousness, as the unfortunate captive became more and more familiar with hardship. The day after their capture, Mr. Aynsley and Mr. Moens were offered a little piece of hard sausage called supersato; but after discussing its digestible qualities they gave it back, telling the brigands that it would not agree with them. They laughed, and the captain said, "They will like it by and by" which truly came to pass. Mr. Moens never heard the last of this. It must have seemed strange to men who are thankful for a handful of In-giving in exchange the small penknife with dian corn daily, who rejoice over a tough sheep or a lean and scraggy goat, and to whose palates anything that will keep body and soul together comes as acceptable food, if not as delicious luxury. A bit of supersato was a luxury to the brigands; and when their prisoners declined it, they felt much as we should feel if a pauper declined roast beef and plum-pudding on the plea of indigestibility. As time went on, and starvation became a daily companion, nature broke up the pretty mosaic work of civilization and the culinary art; and raw onions, raw cabbage, dry hard bread only too dry to be mouldy, a bone of half-raw meat, garlic, entrails, and even the rancid grease used for greasing their boots, all these things passed the ordeal of English taste, and were welcomed as means whereby to live. It is strange how quickly even the most highly civilized man resolves into the savage again when fairly under the harrow. As a rule, Mr. Moens was treated tolerably well by the brigands, as has been said; but he had two tormentors, Pepino and Scope, and when left under their charge, fared ill enough. Manzo was the captain of the whole force, and was a bandit of somewhat more likeness to the popular ideal than the rest. He was handsome, fairly good tempered, prompt, and, in his own way, generous; always kind to his captives when not half maddened by disappointments respecting the arrival of the money, when there would be highly unpleasant scenes, and threats of ears and head, and the like, which did not tend to reassure the Englishman; though he generally answered," As you please," and took the thing with perfect coolness. Manzo was not a man to be trifled with, either by his prisoners or his men. Indeed, from his men he exacted an obedience that left no question of a divided command. One day "Guange, who had been a soldier in the Italian army, and who had become a brigand merely for having been away from his regiment one day without leave, was having an altercation with one of his comrades, and, like these people, wished to have the last word. Manzo told him to be quiet, and just because he did not obey at once, he rushed at him, knocked him down, and kept hitting him and rubbing his face on the stones. Still Guange would not be quiet, until Manzo had pounded his face into a jelly, it being quite bruised, and bleeding | But if times were more tolerable when Manzo was with his band, they were very intolerable when Mr. Moens was left with only a guard, while the captain was off, either on a foraging expedition, or looking after those eternal instalments which, though paid, could not be "lifted" because of the soldiery. When with Pepino's band especially, things went hard with him. As they were to have no share in his expected ransom, they looked upon him as a nuisance, and grudged every morsel of food they were obliged to give him. Pepino stole his drinking-cup, his capuce or hood, in fact all he could lay his hands on; and they half starved him; making a point of speaking to him with the utmost brutality, and constantly threatening his life with their pistols, guns, and knives. One great game in which they indulged was thrusting their knives quickly between his body and his arms. Their captive says, "I never allowed myself to show the slightest fear, and always told them that it was nothing to die, it was soon over, and that the next world was far better. They all have the most abject fear of death, and I always tried to impress them with the idea that Englishmen never fear to die, and that, if they wished it, they were perfectly welcome to take my life, as it would save me and my friends so much trouble. I felt sure that in a short time they would discontinue trying to frighten me, when they found out that I only laughed at their attempts, and ridiculed them for their fear of death." It was the only thing to make them respect him, though another time it was a chance whether the English spirit would lead to good or evil for him. They were going up a very steep ascent, when Generoso, who was immediately behind Mr. Moens, |