might have reminded one of a warlike race,-of the mothers who bore the hardy Samnites, whom the old Romans found it so difficult to conquer. The inhabitants of the different districts were distinguished not only by their coiffure, but by the fashion and colours of their bodices and the rest of their garments. The chaussure was a further distinction; but the prettiest of the variety was the ancient sandal, worn by many of the women of the Campagna Fèlice, and the province of Principato. As nearly all the dresses were of the brightest colours, and as these varied, when mingled in confused crowds, the female peasants looked at a distance like beds of extraordinary tulips or other vivid flowers. There was a variety in their occupations too; but enjoyment—full, thoughtless enjoyment, seemed to be the business of nearly every one of those gathered thousands. Some groups were refreshing themselves with provisions or dainties, furnished copiously by certain itinerant venders or other more sedate dealers, who had erected temporary kitchens in the open air; others were exclusively engaged with the wine flask, that passed rapidly round with a brindisi or rhymed toast or sentiment, supposed at least to be an impromptu, from each gay Bacchanalian; whilst the sweet nuts that grow so plentifully in the romantic district of Avellino, and the torrioni or almonds candied in honey, from Aversa or from Benevento, were munched now and then as an accompaniment to the juice of the grape. Conjurers, mounte

banks and story-tellers, for whose extravagant narratives the Neapolitans have always had an extreme taste, occupied several of the company. One of these ingenious narrators seemed to be very successful in his calling; and though a rival in the profession immediately opposite to him was discoursing of Rinaldo, whom the Neapolitans claim as their countryman, and in the measureless superiority of whose valour over all the other Crusaders they are so deeply interested that they will brawl and fight to maintain it; yes, even though his theme was, "Rinaldo nostro," he was, one by one, abandoned by his auditors, who went to listen to the more modern, and somewhat more probable history of the life and wonderful adventures of the Brigand chief, Benedetto Mangone,* the celebrated peasant of Eboli.

The popular Canta-Storia, for, like his successors, who captivate the mariners and Lazzaroni at this day, on the Molo of Naples, he sang his themes in a sort of recitativo, was near the edge of the little wood of mountain ash, where our acquaintances had so lately arrived, and he went on, in their hearing, to tell how Mangone was a lion in courage, a fox in cunning, a wolf in rapacity, a tiger in cruelty; how he had attacked whole hosts of travellers; how he had beaten the nobles and

"Quel famoso bandito Benedetto Mangone, di cui rimane ancora l'infame memoria per le tante scelleratezze commesse nella campagna d'Eboli."

Giannone Storia Civile del Regno, etc.

their armigeri; how all the Spanish troops of the Viceroy that had ever gone against him, had been foiled and cut to pieces in detail; and he wound up the hairbreadth escapes and the surprising adventures of his hero, by an hypothesis of his own, that king Mangone must be the devil, or a direct lineal descendant of his satanic majesty; for otherwise how could he do such deeds, and escape?

"I would shew to that Don Bugiardo, that Benedetto Mangone has no cloven feet," said one of the new comers in the wood.

"Pr'ythee, be still, and don't let the devil get the upper hand of thee, here," whispered one of his companions, and pointing to a dancing group, which, one among many others, occupied another part of the esplanade, he added, "by Saint Gennaro, that's a pretty tarantella, and better worth heeding than this old ballad-monger!"

"We will even go nearer, and see those free-legged maidens," said the man who had first spoken; "it is clear there are none of the Viceroy's most valiant maccaroni eaters here, and as for any of the few peasants who may have the honour to know us personally, why we are safe in their fears, or indeed just as likely to find friends as foes." Saying this he walked out to the open esplanade, and was followed by some of his comrades, whilst others still hesitated in the wood.

As this man, whom I have described as being the

handsomest of the party we have seen ascending the mountain, walked through the festive crowd, nobody seemed to notice him, or if they did, it was but to remark that he was a good-natured looking fellow, for he had put on his fair-weather countenance, and smoothed his features to a holiday smile. But as he approached a party of peasants, whom their dress shewed to be inhabitants of some of the villages in the vast open plain that extends between Salerno and Eboli and the sea, the faces of every one of them waxed pale as death, and an old man muttered unconsciously, "Benedetto Mangone!" "Well! and what of that," said Benedetto in his ear, "cannot I come to the Madonna's shrine, and pray my prayer as well as thou, and dance a turn or two in the tarantella as well as any lout here?-hold thy peace, good master ShepherdI am not here with evil intentions-my coffers are too well filled with the gold of nobles and Spaniards to feel the want of a peasant's purse of copper, or his wife's trinkets. Hold thy peace, I say, and no harm shall be done here by me, or mine!"

"We are thy slaves, and here to do thy bidding!" replied the old man, in a low, faltering voice, to Mangone, who had turned round with a laughing face to watch the merry dance.

"Had we not better retire hence, with the Madonna to our aid?" inquired one of the pale peasants,—a woman who was but too well acquainted, from the

circumstance of near neighbourhood, with the exploits and freaks of the formidable banditti.

"the

"Not so, Annarella," replied the old man; devil is not so black as he is painted. Mangone always keeps his word; and be it said between us, is often a better friend to the poor peasants than their baron's steward, or the Spaniards, and the tax-gatherers of his Excellency the Viceroy."

The group of dancers which had attracted the attention and admiration of the robbers, reposed for awhile, but now began again with a fresh infusion of glee and vigour. There were several pretty girls engaged in this tarantella, but one among them absorbed the faculties of Mangone. She was the most youthful and graceful of the party, and a life of labour and exposure to the scorching sun had not been able to spoil the beauty and delicacy of her face and complexion. There was an expression of innocence mixed with her really heartfelt gaiety, that might have charmed any heart; and, as vice does not necessarily destroy our taste for that quality in others, but on the contrary rather increases it, the bandit gazed on the thoughtless girl with looks of intense interest; and when her joyful, laughing eyes met his, and were fixed, wondering by them, his heart became her captive.

"By San Benedetto, I will try a tarantella with that maiden, though all her kindred should say nay!" whispered Mangone to his companion; and at the very