view; and The Quarterly, in a long article, has helped to keep the question afloat.

Among the operations carried on at Sheffield, Mr Bessemer has shewn that the manufacture of great guns is a comparatively quick process. He filled his converting vessel' with melted pig-iron at 11.20 in the forenoon; in thirty minutes, it was converted into fluid steel, and cast in an iron mould four feet long, and sixteen inches square, from which it was taken and forged while still hot; and at 7 o'clock in the evening the gun was shaped, and ready for the boring-mill.

It appears that cast-steel bells are growing more and more into use. In Russia and Canada, where the winters are intensely cold, cast-steel bells are preferred for churches and public buildings, as they do not crack when struck, even with the temperature below zero; a degree of cold which is often fatal to ordinary bells.

What Mr Bessemer has done for iron, Mr Ransome of Ipswich has done for stone. His experiments and method of preserving building-stone have been for some time before the public; he has now gone a step further, and has succeeded in manufacturing an indestructible stone from a mixture of sand, chalk, and other substances moistened with silicate of potash. The clay-like substance thus produced is formed into bricks or slabs; these are washed over with a solution of chloride of calcium, and the operation is complete. No baking or drying is necessary; the bricks and slabs harden to the utmost degree, and without warping or twisting. So, if a thin coat be spread on any exposed surface with a trowel, and similarly treated, it hardens in the same way. Dr Frankland, F.R.S., a first-rate authority, states that Mr Ransome's stone is harder and more durable than any building-stone now used, except some of the granites and primary rocks.

Pratt of Calcutta investigated it, and communicated the results to the Royal Society in elaborate papers which have been published in the Philosophical Transactions. We also hear that the Indian arc, surveyed by Colonel Lambton, will have to be remeasured, with instruments of the present day, which are better fitted for the work than were those manufactured half a century ago. Sir Andrew Waugh's Report on the latest operations in India has just been published as a blue-book; in looking through it, we notice a particular concerning cost which is worth attention. The surveying of the mountain regions of the Himalaya was accomplished at a cost of eight shillings a square mile; a sum remarkably insignificant when the danger and difficulty of the work are taken into consideration. Astronomy will ere long make a further advance in India, for the parlia mentary grant of L.1000 to the Astronomical Society, is to be expended in establishing a hill-observatory near Poonah.

The Swedish exploring expedition to Spitzbergen has confirmed the observations of Sir John Ross and Sir Leopold M'Clintock, that animal life is to be found in the polar sea at a depth of 1250 fathoms. The old maps and charts of the latitudes explored, which proved very erroneous, have been rectified; and proofs were found that the Gulf-stream actually touches upon that far northern island.-At last Australia has been crossed from south to north; after the sacrifice of many daring adventurers, a small party of four, led by Mr Burke, travelled all the way from Melbourne to the sea in the Gulf of Carpentaria. But the tale of their enterprise ends sadly. They found a country of grass, wood, and water, and proved that the interior desert or swamp so long assigned to the unexplored inner regions of Australia, has no existence; they shewed a practicable way from sea to sea, and returned to the rendezvous to perish of starvation. The mismanagement or neglect which led to the catastrophe remind us painfully of the terrible disap

few miserable companions on their arrival at Fort Confidence from their dreary walk across the Barrens from the Coppermine river.

The important paleontological question which has been much discussed of late by naturalists is now attracting attention in the far north. Professor Karl von Baer, member of the Academy of Sciences at St Petersburg, has laid a paper before that learned body, on the extinction of animal species from the physiological and non-physiological point of view, and particularly on the disappearance of species contemporary with man. Those who have paid attention to this important subject will be able to form some notion of the significance of the professor's proposition. -Another paper by the same hand is on a new project for the establishment of oyster-beds on the Russian shores of the Baltic, from which we gather that Russia is about to imitate the good work which has been so successfully begun in England and France in the acclimatisation and multiplication of fish.

M. Struve, the Russian astronomer-royal, declares that the great arc of the meridian measured in Russia will have to be remeasured before its exactitude will satisfy the requirements of modern science, because, during the measuring, no allowance was made for the disturbing effects of mountain masses on the instruments employed. This disturbing effect was hardly considered until a few years ago, when Archdeacon

With reference to a statement made in the Month of December last, a correspondent has informed us that we were mistaken in applying the term 'dishonest' to manufacturers who mix barytes with white lead. He explains that it is the practice of the trade generally to adulterate white lead with barytes, in order that purchasers who want a cheap article may be accommodated. If a bad practice becomes good by becoming general, we readily acknowledge our mistake.

EVENING.

ONE star is trembling into sight,

And soft as sleep the darkness falls,
The wood-dove from the forest calls,
The bat begins his wayward flight.
Streams, murmuring in the ear of Night,
Within the woody hollows wind,
Whose dusky boughs are intertwined
Above their music and their light.
The woodland range is dimly blue,

With smoke, that creeps from cots unseen,
And briery hedge and meadow green
Put on their white night-robe of dew.
And every sound that breaks the calm
Is like a lullaby to rest;

All is at peace-except the breast That needs the most its soothing balm. W. M.

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. Also sold by all Booksellers.

BLONDIN v. THE MONKEY. I HAVE lately witnessed and studied Blondin's wonderful feats of agility when acting at the Crystal Palace in the character of 'The Ape,' in the pantomimic drama of The Child of the Wreck. The activity and courage he displays are really something marvellous; but yet he partially defeats his own object, for his face, mischievous tricks, and the skin he wears, render him so like a real monkey, that people do not expect anything but excessive activity from the creature before their eyes. Were he to perform the same tricks in his ordinary exercising-dress, the effect would be much heightened. There have, as we know, of late been great disputes relative to the difference between the man and the monkey. Here, then, was a man acting the part of a monkey; and I was most curious to see how human anatomy would disport itself in the performance of feats peculiar to an animal whose habitat is in trees. On the whole, I felt some complacency as a homo at the marked difference between the two animals-human and non-human. Imprimis-a monkey being quadrumanous, or four-handed, always prefers to make progress (whether he be going slowly or swiftly) upon all-four members, and he never stands erect except on special occasions, and those rare ones: walking on two legs is not his natural mode of going. Blondin, on the contrary, being bimanous or twohanded, naturally elects the upright mode of walking; anything else is difficult to him; and when he has to advance or run away, he has to do it rather more like a man than a monkey.

When Blondin does walk upon 'all-fours,' his gait is very different from that of a monkey; he is obliged to walk upon the toes of his feet, the heels being erect in the air, and upon the palms of his hands, the thumbs being stretched well away from the fingers. The real monkey walks with the whole of the sole of the foot, heel and all, flat upon the ground, the great toe (or thumb) being separated from the toes. The four digits of the hand are parallel to one another; the very converse of Blondin's case. In fact, one of the great distinctions between a man and a monkey is, that the man has a thumb opposable to the top of each of the other digits; and upon this apparently insignificant fact is founded much of his superiority over all other animals. The monkey's thumb is not opposable to the other digits; but, as if to compensate for this, his

PRICE 14d.

great toe takes the office of a thumb, and is of the greatest use to him in holding on to branches during the act of climbing. If a gorilla were to walk over Blondin's tight-rope, it would be seen by the spectators below that he would grasp the rope with his great toe. Blondin's anatomical construction will not allow him to do this; he walks, therefore, upon the sole of his foot, sustaining himself by the comparatively feeble grasp of the curve of the foot, and by a nice management of his centre of gravity, which gives him the appearance of walking so much from the hips. The human great toes can, however, be trained to grasp; and there is a poor man in London streets who gains his living by writing with his toes; still, no living man or woman will ever be able to vie with the monkey, as far as grasping with the great toe is concerned. Barefooted sailors come nearest to the animal in this respect. Watch a monkey go up a pole; you will see he places his hind-feet on the surface of the pole at a considerable angle to his body (which his anatomy enables him to do), and thus he ascends. Watch Blondin. His feet cannot be turned inwards like the monkey's. The complicated ligaments of the ankle, made to support an erect frame, will not allow it; he has therefore caused small wooden steps to be nailed on to his pole, which exactly resembles the bear's pole at the Zoological Gardens. In fact, Blondin goes up his pole much like our friend Ursa Major, to whom, as regards the structure of the foot, Blondin approaches more nearly than he does to the monkey. The bear is a genuine plantigrade, so called because he possesses a great facility, from the structure of the sole of his five-toed foot, of rearing himself up on the hindfeet. Blondin, therefore-unwittingly, no doubt-has arranged his climbing-pole to suit his plantigrade structure.

a mite

A merry little child just in front of me at the Crystal Palace, at first was half-frightened at Blondin, thinking, in her infant mind, he was a real monkey; and when assured by her father that this was not the case, she wisely questioned his answer by the observation: Why, papa, he has not of a tail.' True, Blondin has no tail; and I would venture to ask the directors of the Crystal Palace what species of monkey Mr Blondin representswhether a monkey of the Old World, or a monkey of the New World. The monkeys of the New World have prehensile tails, a species of fifth hand; and,

what is very extraordinary, the non-prehensile tailed monkeys when feeling unwell gnaw and devour the tips of their tails; whereas those of the New World, knowing the disadvantage that would thence accrue to them, do not gnaw their tails. Blondin would find it difficult to make an artificial prehensile tail, worked by human mechanism; he has therefore wisely dropped the subject, and we must assume that he performs in the character of an Old-world monkey.

His pluck and courage in performing his jump of 120 feet are really marvellous. Ascending to a high platform on one side of the transept of the Crystal Palace, in front of the stage, he holds on to a rope fastened securely above, and letting himself go with a spring, swings right across the transept to the opposite side. It is as though you hauled up the great brass chandelier of Westminster Abbey into the organloft, and let it swing bodily up towards the reading eagle, under the centre of the great tower. I was curious to see how Blondin would land from his aërial journey, as his impetus would be too great to allow him to lodge on a platform. An eagle or other large bird, stopping suddenly in his flight, has his wings to help in bringing him up on a given point; not so Blondin: for the moment, he converts his body into a pendulum, a dead heavy weight, and his physical force, therefore, is greatly inferior to the dead weight of his body acting under the laws of gravitation. A monkey, in a natural state, free and wild in the forest, is no fool; he won't go and jump bang on to the trunk of a tree, a hard, firm, and inelastic substance-he is much too clever for that. He jumps on to a bough, which is elastic, bending, and pliant, and gives time for muscular force to overcome gravitating force. We don't often see monkeys wild in the English woods, but we do see a very monkey-like animal in every respect. The pretty little squirrel jumps not from trunk to trunk, but from bough to bough. Blondin has instinctively arrived at the same conclusion as nature did when she made the monkey and the squirrel, and he has therefore arranged a thick rope, which would represent a bough, in front of the platform, where he arrives at the end of his swing; in fact, the arrivalplatform looks like a large cage with one thick bar. When about to start, he fixes his eye on the bar, and then away he goes with a most magnificent eagle-like swoop, as near flying as it is possible for human flesh and blood to arrive at; and when he feels himself near the end of his tether on the opposite side of the arch he has described, he stretches out his legs, and grasps in an instant the single bar of his cage.

This rope-bar being loosely fixed, 'gives' to his force more or less: once having a hold with his legs, the rest is easy; he poises himself a moment, holds on by one hand, and lets go the swinging rope which has carried him safely across with the other. This seems all very easy on paper, but I do not think it is very easy in practice, for the day I saw him, the long swing-rope became entangled in his foot, and it was with difficulty he got it out again. I heard subsequently that a few days ago he missed the rope on to which he swings: he was not quite quick enough to catch it with his feet, and away he went right back again into open space; for if human beings will convert themselves for the time into pendulums, they must submit to the laws which govern pendulums, and not human beings. Missing his hold, therefore, away he swung back again, but not with sufficient force to reach the place whence he started; he swung short of it, and back and back again, oscillating to and fro in mid-air for some minutes. It was impossible for him to recover sufficient force to reach either side; he was physically in the horns of a dilemma. There were only two ways of escape-one downwards, one upwards. Downwards he could not go; the drop on to the ground was too great; upwards he

might go, as he still held on to the rope. There was no question that this was the only road open for him, so, therefore, up he went; up, up, till he should meet with a friendly cross-road which would conduct him home. On to one of the side-ropes he therefore transferred himself, and arrived in safety, amid the cheers of the visitors, at the platform whence he had started. The cool courage, determined pluck, and ready reasoning of the wonderful man, never desert him. A slip of the foot, an unexpected movement of a rope, the fracture or semi-fracture of any part of his apparatus, may at any moment send him headlong and lifeless on to the earth beneath. We cannot, therefore, but admire him as a marvellous example of moral courage and gigantic, yet elegant strength. A person fond of observing cannot fail to have arrived at the conclusion, that the occupation of the individual moulds the features of that individual. Place a soldier, a sailor, a bookseller, and a watchmaker side by side, and the difference in physiognomy will be remarked in a moment. We find that Blondin's features are moulded in a most peculiar cast; the very ideal of cool courage, iron determination, and pluck. May he live to a good old age, and escape the fate of so many of his predecessors, who attempt feats which the human frame is not by nature constructed to perform!

AUSTRIAN RULE IN TUSCANY UNDER THE GRAND DUKE LEOPOLD II., 1849.

IN the little town of Pistoia, a few miles distant from Florence, there lived, a few years ago, a respectable couple in humble life. Agostino Frosini was a servant in a gentleman's family, and his wife, Annunziata Sapoli, a washerwoman. They had five children, one of whom, Attilio, was noted for his mild and amiable disposition. A favourite with all who knew him, he retained, at the age of sixteen, a purity, and almost childlike simplicity of heart and mind, which was the more striking among a people whose character and intellect are usually developed at an earlier age than in races inhabiting northern countries.

In 1849, all Italy, from the Alps to Sicily, rejoiced in the hope of establishing constitutional governments throughout the land, of forcing their separate rulers to obey the existing laws, which they had arbitrarily set aside, and of driving out the Austrian, who not only had forfeited all claim to Lombardy, by breaking the conditions upon which it had been bestowed by the arbiters of Europe in 1815, but had likewise supported tyranny, political and religious, throughout the whole peninsula. The Grand Duke of Tuscany, Leopold II., who at first appeared to yield to the wishes of his people by granting them a constitution, fled, terrified at his own work, to seek aid from the very government which was most hated by his Tuscan subjects. He left Florence in March 1849, but returned in June of that same year, under the escort of an Austrian army. The German soldiers entered Florence in triumph, wearing boughs of laurel on their caps, and having once established themselves in the country as the protectors of the sovereign, they were allowed full licence to insult the Italians they had conquered by arms. If two or three Florentines were seen in the street conversing together, they were ordered to separate; if they sang, they were silenced, whilst the Austrian soldiery paraded the streets in bands, singing their national songs. One day, an unfortunate peasant happened to jostle an Austrian officer in Via Porta Rossa, one of the most frequented streets of Florence: he was knocked up against a wall, and forced to remain there, whilst the officer and the soldiers following him successively, spat in his face.

But worse instances than these contributed to deepen the hatred of the Italian against the Austrian,

and against that sovereign who had returned to the country and office he had abandoned with unmanly cowardice, through Austrian means. News had arrived of the victories gained over the Austrians in Hungary, which were hailed with joy in Italy; and a rumour having got abroad that the Austrian regiment in Pistoia was Hungarian, the people there hoped to find in the soldiers not only friends, but the enemies of their enemies. One afternoon, Attilio Frosini was passing the bishop's palace, where the Austrian commander, Lieutenant-colonel Francesco de Mayer, was quartered. The guard, who were partly Croats, wore the Hungarian uniform, and the lad saluted them as he passed with the words: 'Long live Kossuth!' The sentinel replied, 'Viva!' and Attilio, encouraged by this, repeated, Viva Kossuth!' Three more of the soldiers had now joined the sentinel, and shouting ‘Viva, bravo'! beckoned to him to come nearer. No sooner was he within reach, than they surrounded and seized him, carrying him into the guard-house, where they informed him he was under arrest. Attilio at first remonstrated against his seizure, but finding his words vain, he lost all selfcommand, and broke out in invectives against the Austrian soldiers, their officers and generals, declaring he would tear down their flag, which was hanging in the guard-house. Upon this, the soldiers put him in chains, giving him repeated blows with their guns. Shortly afterwards, Lieutenant-colonel de Mayer, with the officers of the regiment, returned to the palace, from which they had been absent when the boy was arrested. After listening to the corporal's report of the affair, the lieutenant-colonel ordered the soldiers to be drawn out, and Attilio Frosini to be beaten a second time by blows from the but-end of their guns. His cries were heard at a considerable distance; but, not satisfied with this, the Austrian officer ordered him to be conveyed to the fortress, to which he was driven with blows and insults by thirty Croats, and kept there all night. On the morning of the 29th June, an express was sent to the commanderin-chief resident at Prato, informing him of what had occurred the previous evening; but an officer of the garrison, half of whom were Tuscan, had likewise sent word to the prefect of Pistoia, Cavaliere Rosselmini Gualandi, warning him that Attilio's case would be tried by a military tribunal, and was one of life or death. The prefect accordingly started early for Florence, to lay the affair before the minister of the grand duke, and entreat for his interference. Before leaving Pistoia, however, he addressed the following letter to Lieutenant-colonel de Mayer:

'MOST ILLUSTRIOUS SIR-I have been informed that a youth of this city, the son of a servant of the family Marchetti, was arrested yesterday evening, accused of using means to induce some soldiers of the troop commanded by your Excellency to desert, and that he is at this present moment under trial by a council of war, and, in case of being found guilty, that he will be subjected to the extreme rigour of martial law. I consider it my duty, in the interest of the authority I represent, formally to signify to you, that without prejudging any other question which may arise as to what are the cases amenable to martial law, it is not possible in any way to apply it in a case which has not been formally declared punishable according to martial law and by the forms of an extraordinary tribunal; but this case can only be tried in the terms and in the established forms of Tuscan laws.

I cannot doubt that, while I am engaged in acquainting the superior government with this urgent case, and await my instructions from thence, that whatever may be the sentence pronounced, the execution will be suspended until the required instructions arrive. I have the honour, &c.,

CAV. ALESSANDRO ROSSELMINI GUALANDI,
Prefect.'

That the minister could not or would not interfere, may be inferred from what followed; but the story may now be told in the words of the priest, Doctor Vicenzo Marraccini of Pistoia, who attended the poor lad from this time to his last moment.

Two o'clock was striking in the afternoon of the 29th June 1849, when an Austrian soldier, guided by a man of the name of Valente Chiappini, knocked at the door of my house, situated in the Via del Corso, near the church of Santa Maria Nuova. Going to the window, I saw Chiappini, who, pointing to the Austrian soldier, said: This gentleman wants your attendance on a sick man in the fortress.' I immediately hastened down to the street, where I found the Austrian soldier alone, as Chiappini had departed. On my way to the fortress, I asked the soldier who the sick man might be, and what was his complaint; but his only reply was, that he did not know he was told there was a sick man. 'Tell me, at least,' I added, 'if this sick man is one of your comrades, or one of our soldiers, for I suppose you know so much.' But he only repeated what he had said before: 'I was told there was a sick man, and that I was to fetch a priest.' We had by this time reached the external gate of the fortress, and passing through, he led me to the interior, bidding me turn to the left.

Here I found all the Austrians drawn up under arms, but hardly noticing them, I turned to my guide, believing him still beside me, to desire him to lead me at once to the sick man; but he, like Chiappini, had disappeared, without telling me he was leaving me.

Whilst I was looking round in search of him, one of the Austrian soldiers present advanced, and requested me to wait. I bowed my consent, and approaching a Tuscan, of the name of Antonio Sarto, and who, with several other Tuscan soldiers, was quartered in the fortress, I asked him what all these Austrians were about, and why they were under arms.

He replied with much agitation: 'Reverend sir, they are about to commit a very brutal act, and, it appears, you are required to be present.' As I was totally ignorant of what had occurred, I could not at the moment comprehend the import of his words, and I again inquired: 'But have I not been called here to attend a sick man?' 'Exactly so,' he replied. I tell you it is a very brutal act; and the supposed sick man is, I believe, there in the midst of them.'

That instant, I heard the sound of the drum; and the Austrian soldiers filing off in two lines, I perceived a young lad walking between them, chained hand and foot, and followed by twelve Austrians, who were conducting him towards the inner gate of the fortress. As soon as they had passed, an officer, either a major or captain, advanced towards me, and without further preface said: 'I consign him to you.'

At the sight of that miserable-looking boy, and the sound of these brief but alarming words, I felt my blood freeze in my veins, and a secret presentiment suggesting the idea of death rise up in my mind. I could have thrown myself at the feet of the Austrian officer, but I only said: 'I will not fail in performing the duties of my sacred office; but for the love of Jesus, I entreat you to spare the life of that boy.' Who knows!' he replied; the matter has been referred to the colonel, who is at Prato. All depends on him.'

So saying, he took me by the arm, and accompanied me to the gate of the fortress, when, making me a

sign to enter the guard-house, he left me.

In the centre of the room, a corporal sat astride on a chair, leaning the elbow of his right arm on the back, and his head on his hand. Three soldiers mounted guard, two at the door of the room, and one near the window. All this armed force was placed there to watch that poor boy, as if he had been a wild beast. The prisoner had thrown himself on his face upon a bench, sobbing violently. As I have said

before, I was ignorant of what had occurred; I did not even know who he was, and I was therefore uncertain how I should approach him, so as to alarm him as little as possible.

I blew my nose, and starting at the noise, he turned round trembling and looked at me; but he no sooner perceived who I was, than he threw himself weeping upon my neck. At this eloquent appeal, I could do no less than embrace him in return, and clasping him in my arms, without uttering a syllable, we both sank down upon the bench. The poor lad was bathed in perspiration and tears, whilst his face was hot with fever; but after a few moments he disengaged himself from my embrace, and, half suspicious, half terrified, he asked me: 'But are you the priest Marraccini ?' 'Yes,' I replied, stroking his cheeks, I am the priest Marraccini; you need not be afraid, my son.' 'Bravo! you have done a good act in coming to me.' 'I came solely on your account; therefore, tell me all you want. But first, your name; for I do not think I ever saw you before.'

His lips relaxed into an ingenuous smile, as he answered: 'My name is Attilio. I am the son of Agostino Frosini. You know him; he is a servant in the house of the Marchetti family. My mother is the washerwoman. Do you not know her-down there, on the way to the theatre? I was at school at Master Tozzelli's. But yesterday,' and he lowered his voice, 'I was seized down there by the bishop's palace, and they brought me here.' And he burst into a fresh flood of tears.

Hardly knowing what to say, I exhorted him to have courage, and trust in Jesus, assuring him there must be some mistake; and I then asked him if he was in want of anything.

'I am so thirsty,' he said.

I beckoned to the corporal, who had never moved from his position; he went out, soon returning with a flask of water. Attilio carried it so hastily to his mouth, that I was only aware of the neck of the flask being broken, when I perceived the blood from his lips mingling with the water. I asked for a cup, but was refused; and poor Attilio, whilst quenching his burning thirst, had frequently to pause to take breath, swallowing drop by drop, till it went to my heart to see him.

Soon afterwards, he said he was hungry; adding, I have not tasted anything since yesterday evening.' I told the corporal, who went out, and returned with a loaf of bread, but which was more black than white. 'For the sake of charity,' I asked, 'allow him a few mouthfuls of soup or a little broth.' The corporal again left the room, and returned with the answer that it was not allowed. I myself then went to the captain, who all this while was standing outside the fortress with the other officers, and asked him the favour, telling him I would go and fetch the broth; but my entreaties were vain, and I was obliged to return disappointed, and with nothing but that miserable loaf. If drinking had been difficult, eating was still more so. The bread was so hard that I asked for a knife to cut it, but this was likewise denied, and I was obliged to use both hands to break it against the bench.

Whilst Attilio was swallowing a few crumbs, I endeavoured to console him; his answers, which proved the innocent and ingenuous nature of this boy, who had hardly passed sixteen years of age, touched me so deeply that I could scarcely restrain my tears, and in order to conceal them from him, I looked round the room until my eyes accidentally fell on an image of the Virgin which hung against the wall. Attilio, who watched my every movement, instantly perceived my eyes were fixed on something, and asked me what it was.

I am looking at that image,' I answered; and thinking it might be of use in keeping his thoughts on sacred subjects, I climbed on the bench, took it

down, and bade him look at it, and tell me who it represented. He gazed at it for a moment, and then exclaimed: Do I know it? It is the holy mother of Jesus.' Then covering it with kisses and tears, he laid it on his knees. After a few moments he spoke again: 'I too am under the protection of the Virgin. Do you ask if I remember her image? It was only uncovered a few days ago when I made my general confession.'*

'Well done, Attilio,' I answered; 'you give me comfort. You have already told me you wish to do right, but as you also tell me you have made your general confession, perhaps you would like now to confess again. If you would like to do so, tell me where your confessor lives, and I will at once go and fetch him.'

'My confessor is Bartolini, the sacristan of the church della Madonna; but I do not wish him to come here now, because-in this state'-and he raised his hand to shew me his chain-'I am ashamed! I would rather confess to you. I should like to have my crucifix, which is at home, but it is a long way off.'

I am quite ready to hear you confess,' I said, and to fetch your crucifix; but your house is so far off, that I should have to leave you too long alone. Let me rather go to mine, and fetch my own.' Attilio acquiesced, and assuring him I should soon return, I left him.

As I left the fortress, I found the Austrian captain, and begged he would inform me how I was to regulate my behaviour towards the prisoner.

'I cannot tell you,' he replied; we are waiting the arrival of the sentence from Prato.'

For charity's sake, tell me,' I continued, is there any danger of a capital sentence, that I may prepare him for the great change? for, should you not believe the affair so serious, I would not unnecessarily alarm him.'

'But it is precisely because the chances are such that we sent for you. All, however, depends on the general. Act as you think best.'

My sad suspicion that the cup would be bitter, and that Attilio would have to drain it to the dregs, was thus confirmed, and in a painful state of agitation I hastened home in search of my crucifix, and returned to the fortress. Five was striking as I re-entered the guard-room. I found Attilio where I had left him, seated on the bench, with the image of the Virgin laid upon his knees. The corporal and the three Tuscan privates who had mounted guard before, had been removed, and exchanged for the same number of Austrians. As soon as he saw me, he exclaimed: 'Come here; it seems an age since you went. The soldiers who were here before' (and he lowered his voice) 'whispered to these, and went away. I have had such a fright! When they let me out, I will go to your house. Have you brought me the crucifix?' He took it from my hand, and after examining it, said with a smile: It is just like my own;' and then kissing it, and unbuttoning his waistcoat, laid it on his breast, crossed his arms, and remained silent.

After about a quarter of an hour, he raised his face, and glancing round the room, fixed his eyes on mine without speaking, upon which I said: 'I did not wish to distract your thoughts, and have therefore kept silence, as I concluded you were meditating upon the confession you intend making to me.'

'True,' he replied; and you will do me a kindness by allowing me now to confess.'

I rose, and requested the corporal and his three soldiers to leave us alone for a short time, but received no answer. I then asked them to retire to the further

A ceremony of the Roman Catholic Church, which had been

performed by the people on the 9th and 10th June 1849, on an occasion when an image of the Virgin, supposed by them to be peculiarly holy, had been uncovered.