the scene became highly nteresting: it was one of those which Salvator Rosa would have gloried in transferring to the canvass. In one corner, upon an elevated mound, so as to command a view of the whole area, sat a majestic-looking figure, with a countenance of mild serenity, but yet of a commanding aspect. Over his shoulders was hung the skin of a wolf, and the lower part of his body was enveloped in a cloak of furs. The butts of his pistols were just seen, as they stuck in his broad girdle; a heavy sword and a carbine lay by his side, and in his hand he held that peculiar kind of knife so well known as the favourite weapon of the guerilla. Resting upon one knee, and her arm leaning on his shoulder, was a female of great beauty; she was gazing tenderly upon him, but at intervals there was a fierce flashing of the eyes, an agitated contortion of feature, that rendered her terrible to sight. There was nevertheless a fascinating beauty still, though it was constantly changing from the glance of fervid affection to the fiend-like expression of a fallen angel. These were Frère du Diable and his wife, or, in other words, Galeazzo and Camilla.

The guerilla band were assembled in separate groups, yet so connected as to be ready for action at a moment's warning. Some were stretched upon the ground, and still buried in the deep sleep which exertion and fatigue render so delicious to the weary frame; others were awaking from their slumbers and stretching their sinewy limbs; whilst a few were examining their arms or polishing their knives.

The shrill whistle again sounded, when a single blast from a bugle roused every soul in an instant, and carbine in hand, they stood prepared for battle. Sir Sidney advanced, was immediately recognised, and a loud shout of joy proclaimed his welcome. The guerillas laid down their arms, and received the seamen with demonstrations of attachment. The chiefs met and embraced in token of amity, whilst the beautiful Camilla testified her satisfaction to see the enemies of the French. A multitude of conflicting feelings seemed to agitate her soul, as she pressed the hand of Sir Sidney to her heart, and called upon him as "the avenger of blood."

As soon as order was restored, the two chiefs held a conference together, after which refreshments were spread upon the

greensward, consisting of dried venison, hard cheese, bread, fruits, and wine. On the elevated mound Galeazzo, Camiila, Sir Sidney, and the British officers, were seated on the grass. Behind the guerilla chief, a little to the right, stood the bugleman, and on the left, the sword-bearer, both prompt to obey commands. The seamen joined in the messes of the band and the utmost harmony prevailed.

A few minutes had elapsed since these arrangements were made, when suddenly a bright flash was seen among the bushes on the opposite side to that where the chief sat, and, as the report of fire-arms echoed among the rocks, the bugleman fell dead upon Sir Sidney's shoulder. All parties were instantly on their feet, and the chiefs dealt mutual looks of distrust at each other. It was evident that the ball had been designed for one of them, and suspicion pervaded the minds of both that treachery was at work. The dauntless look of defiance was exchanged, but it was only momentary, for the shrill voice of Camilla was heard. “Do they seek the lion in his den?" she exclaimed with bitterness; "on, on! and destroy the common foe!"

The features of the guerilla changed; he grasped Sir Sidney's hand with impetuosity, gazed for a moment on the corpse, and then, seizing the bugle, blew a blast so loud and shrill, that every rock and glen re-echoed the noise. He ceased, and the whole band stood in breathless silence, watching their leader, who appeared like a statue; but no sound was heard except the gentle rustling of the leaves in the morning breeze. Again with wild haste the chief raised the bugle, and sounded louder and longer than before, and again all subsided to the deepest attention. At length, answering blasts were heard in different directions, and the chief dashing the bugle on the ground, gave orders for the immediate departure of his band. Sir Sidney wished to accompany him, but this offer was politely declined; yet, tuming to Camilla, he requested her to remain with the English captain till his return. She gave her husband a look of stern reproach. "Am I not bereaved?” said she. "Is not the blood of my offspring on their hands? Will not the wolf fight for her whelps, and shall I shrink! On! on, Galeazzo! the death-shriek of my murdered children is ringing in my

ears, and nought but deep and terrible revenge can satisfy me now!"

The chief raised the wolf's skin from his shoulders, and, drawing the head part over his own, so that the nostrils covered his brows, he assumed that terrific appearance, which at all times rendered him so conspicuous an object in his encounters with the enemy. He again grasped Sir Sidney's hand, and requested him to return to his ship; and, as soon as he saw a smoke rising from the spot on which he then stood, he might consider it as a signal for him to retrace his steps to the place of rendezvous.

The guerilla band spread themselves into small parties, and pursued different routes, though only at such distances from each other as to be ready to unite in one body if it should be necessary; and in a few minutes not a vestige of the troop remained, except the corpse, the broken food, and the half-emptied flagons.

The British party returned to the frigate, and a careful watch was set to look out for the concerted signal. The officers were constantly directing their spy-glasses towards the spot, but nothing was seen; and the day passed away in restless impatience, not unaccompanied with suspicion of Frère du Diable's intentions.

Night came a beautiful clear Italian night-reviving in the mind all the strong fervour of romance. The deep blue of the sky, reflected on the transparent wave, which gave back its lovely hue, was beautifully contrasted with the dark foliage and the rocky masses which bound the shore, affording no indication of human dwelling-all was still and passionless. The eye was eagerly strained towards the thick wood, which frowned in gloom and pride, when, about the middle of the first watch, light wreaths of smoke curled upward above the trees, followed by bright flashes, and, in a few minutes, the red glare of ascending flames gave a grand and terrific change to the quiet of the

scene.

The boats were again manned, and soon sweeping through the liquid element to the

spot they had quitted in the morning; and, in an hour, Sir Sidney, with a more numerous retinue than before, arrived at the appointed place. But, though the scene of the early day was striking, it was a mere tranquil spectacle when compared with the present, where wild ferocity was heightened by intoxication and hellish cruelty. In the centre of the space the dry trunks of trees were piled on end, so as to form a spiral elevation and terminate almost in a point at the summit. They were burning with great rapidity, and cast a red tinge on the horrible figures that were spread around. The chief leaned upon his heavy sword near the fire, and his wife stood laughing by his side; but that laugh was utterly destitute of human pleasure-it was like the laugh of a fallen angel exulting over mortal agony. She was terrible in her beauty, and the soul trembled before her demoniac gaze. A loud shout proclaimed Sir Sidney's presence, and he immediately advanced towards the chief, who received him in the most cordial manner; whilst Camilla, in wild accents, exclaimed, "They would seek the lion in his den! But more blood has been shed as a sacrifice to avenge my murdered babes"-and she threw another log into the flames.

"And see,"

The chief informed Sir Sidney that the pursuit of the guerillas had not been unavailing, for they had followed the delinquent (who proved to be a French soldier, under pledge to destroy Frère du Diable) down to the very outposts of the enemy's camp, where, after a slight skirmish, he was captured and brought back to the stronghold of the band. said the chief, opening the blazing pile with his sword, and showing the mutilated remains of a human body consuming in the flames, "thus perish all our enemies!" "Ay, perish, perish for ever!" responded Camilla. "This is he," continued the chief, "who fired the shot this morning. He confessed that it was designed for me, but thus-thus am I avenged!" The miserable victim had been burnt alive.