with safety. Melendez uttered not a word in reply to the consolations offered him by his pitying friends and acquaintance. He silently allowed a village barber to bind up his head, from which El Patudo had with his own hand severed the ears, and then seizing his staff left the valley.

It was a feast day in the cheerful little town of Villasayas in Castile, and the church bells were gaily ringing their invitation to mass. The streets were crowded with buxom olive-complexioned peasant girls and serving women, their long black hair hanging in a plait down their backs, and in many instances reaching nearly to the ground; and with mantilla'd senoritas, dark-eyed and fairy-footed, tripping by twos and threes over the uneven pavement. As is usual in

Spanish towns, the flagged platform before the church door was thronged with the male inhabitants, assembled to discuss the news of the day, and to catch a glance of their fair townswomen as they repaired to their devotions. Amongst the coarse grey or brown jackets of the peasantry, and the black Sunday coats of escribanos and other civilians, were scattered a number of men whose dress, without being exactly a military uniform, betokened them to belong to one of the free corps then so numerous in Spain. Their short darkgreen jackets were loaded with metal buttons down the front and on the sleeves, which buttons were in many instances formed of small silver coins of the value of two to three reals, a fashion common in the Peninsula, and especially affected by muleteers. Round their waists they wore red sashes of wool or silk, and their heads were covered with the Basque boina. They had much the appearance of Carlist soldiers, which, however, their peaceable presence in a Christino town rendered it impossible they should be. Leaning against one of the stone pillars which flanked the church door, was a young man apparently about twenty-five years of age, upwards of six feet high, and of powerful make. His long hair, which fell in thick curls upon his shoulders, was surmounted by a broad-brimmed grey hat, decorated with a small plume; and his loose green velveteen trowsers were fastened, and slightly drawn together at the bottom, by a

bunch of coloured ribands. He wore nothing over his shirt, which was of dazzling whiteness and fine texture, but on one shoulder hung a large striped woollen blanket. On his feet he wore alpargatas, or hempen sandals, and his knife and a brace of pistols were stuck in his crimson silk sash, the ends of which were fringed with silver thread. His features were handsome, although tanned a deep brown by exposure to the weather: a beautifully pencilled mustache shaded his upper lip, and two silver rings were passed through holes pierced in his ears. His passing acquaintances saluted him by the name of Pepito, and the free companions described above acknowledged him as their chief.

The mass had commenced, and a numerous congregation of devotees and idlers had entered the church. Pepito was about to follow their example, when an old man, whose clothes were dusty and travel-stained, and whose grey hair and a bandage which he had round his head were streaked with blood, laid a trembling hand on the arm of the gigantic guerilla. Pepito turned his head.

"Padre!" cried he joyfully, and clasped the old man in his arms.

Two hours later the free corps of Pepito Melendez had left Villasayas, and was on its road to the province of Cuença. Pepito marched at its head on foot, and with strides that kept at an amble the vigorous mule on which he had mounted his father. He was deadly pale, and he spoke to no one'; but from time to time his fingers caressed the handle of the Catalan knife which was thrust into his girdle, and his bloodshot eyes glared fearfully, as he muttered curses and blasphemies too horrible to be written. His men, who were about a hundred and fifty in number, appeared to sympathize in the dejection of their leader, and marched doggedly and silently forward, unheeding the burning sun and the rugged and stony roads. There was no straggling or lagging behind amongst these iron-framed guerillas. Occasionally, on passing some roadside fountain, two or three soldiers would give their muskets to their comrades, and, taking a hasty draught, rejoin the column before it had left them fifty yards in the rear. So few and short were their halts, and so

much expedition did they use, that on the evening of the second day's march they had accomplished five-and-twenty long leagues, and established their bivouac in a ravine at a short distance from the valley in which Melendez's house was situated.

About sunset on the same evening, the band of El Patudo were supping in the open air at the opposite extremity of the valley. They were thirtyeight in number, including the chief and two or three subordinate officers. El Patudo himself was a bull-necked, double-jointed ruffian, clumsily but strongly built, and with hands and feet of so disproportionately large a size, as to have procured him the sobriquet by which we have here designated him. The table on which the evening meal of the party was laid out was a patch of green turf, shaded by a cluster of beech-trees, and situated at the foot of some small sharp-pointed rocks, which formed the inward extremity of the base of the surrounding mountains. The repast consisted of a sheep roasted whole in the embers of a huge wood fire-of fruit and onions, bread and garlic. Propped up against a tree was a large skin of wine, the mouth uppermost, and from which the bandits took it by turn to fill two coarse earthen jugs, which were afterwards passed from hand to hand. Scattered on the ground were sabres, knives, and poniards, of which weapons it might be observed, that, although the points were keen and shining, towards the hilt a thick coat of rust had been allowed to accumulate. The guerillas had neglected to wipe off the blood which so often reddened their steel. Muskets were piled against the trees; cananas, or cartridge-belts, were suspended on the branches; and red woollen caps, alpargatas, coarse blankets, and empty gourds, completed the accessories of the scene.

On a well-wooded platform, about a mile in rear of the revellers, arose the turrets of a convent, which commanded one of the principal entrances to the valley. The Franciscan monks who inhabited it were rarely seen outside of its walls, with the exception of some half dozen who were accustomed to levy contributions, in the form of alms, on the piously-disposed amongst the peasantry of the district. The convent was large, and had for

VOL. L. NO. CCCXI,

merly afforded shelter to a numerous community; but the inmates at the period we write of were not supposed to exceed forty or fifty. The reserved habits of the brotherhood, however, were the cause that little was known of them, even by those who dwelt within sight of their walls. At the commencement of the war, they had vigorously repulsed the attack of a band of marauders, who had reckoned on finding an easy prey and rich booty in the convent of St Francisco; and the warlike spirit of which the holy fathers had given proof in that affair, had given occasion to the profane and evil-disposed to observe, that such stalwart cenobites would be better placed in the ranks of a battalion than on the steps of an altar. Shortly afterwards, several monks had left the convent, and it was supposed had repaired to the part of the country occupied by the troops of Don Carlos.

"The reverends are late in coming to-night," said El Patudo to his second in command-a wicked-looking Andalusian, who was lying on his back on the grass, and picking his teeth with his poniard; yet they know that we shall not be too many, with all our numbers, for to-night's work. The peasants are beginning to furbish their escopetas, and Lopez brought in word yesterday, that they were going to organize a corps for the defence of the valley. The affair of Melendez has put them on the qui vive.'

"And with good reason," replied the lieutenant. "It was all very well to sack the house and carry off the cattle; but I told you that, if you amused yourself with cutting off ears and ripping up children, we should some day or other pay for our imprudence.

"Pshaw!" replied El Patudo, "how long have you been the advocate of humanity? But what is that amongst the trees!" cried he hastily, and pointing in the direction of the convent. "Ignacio, by heavens! and in his habit. What can be the meaning of that?"

As he spoke, the white robe of a Franciscan monk became visible as its wearer advanced down a path which led from the convent to the bivouac of the partida. El Patudo hastened to meet the new.comer, and after a short conference returned to his comrades.

U

"We may make up our minds to remain idle to-night instead of taking a merry ramble in the moonbeams," cried he, with a grin of disappointment. "Old Melendez has been to show his ears, or the place where they ought to be, to a son of his who, it appears, commands a free corps, and he and his men will reach the valley tonight or to-morrow morning. A spy has just brought the intelligence to the convent, and Ignacio hastened to put us on our guard."

The banditti grumbled at this unwelcome news, which interfered with a plan of rapine and slaughter projected for that evening. Their chief informed them that they could with perfect safety remain where they were for the night; but that with early dawn they would have to seek a place of greater security. Two or three men whose turn it was for sentry, took up their muskets and repaired to their posts; whilst the remainder, wrapping themselves in their cloaks and blankets, turned their feet to the smouldering ashes of the fire, and were soon asleep.

The horizon was tinged with the grey streaks which announce the approach of day, and the huge outlines of the mountains were becoming gradually visible against the blue sky. The early morning breeze called out the fragrant odours of the flowers and shrubs which had lain quelled and dormant under the heavy night dew. Pepe Melendez and his free corps advanced rapidly and silently towards the end of the valley where the brigands of El Patudo were supposed to have their haunts. The turrets of the convent of Franciscans were visible in the distance, their white walls assuming in the uncertain twilight the appearance of some huge shadowy phan

tom.

Arrived within half a league of the extremity of the valley, Pepito and his men turned to the left, and continued in that direction until they reached the foot of the mountains, at a spot where the bed of a torrent ran between two high rocks, on the summit of which a scanty layer of earth afforded nourishment to numerous creeping plants, which overhung and shaded the dry watercourse below. In this hiding-place the guerillas ensconced themselves, whilst Pepito climbed the rocks and concealed himself amongst some bushes, at an ele

vation which enabled him to have a full view over the upper part of the valley. He had not been many minutes at his post of observation when he perceived a line of dark forms gliding stealthily through the trees which clothed the ascent to the convent, into which building they were admitted by a side entrance not generally used by the monks. Pepito for an instant could not believe his eyes. He gazed earnestly at the door through which the men were passing, and which was carefully closed as soon as the last had entered. The distance was too short for him to be mistaken as to the character of the persons thus admitted into the retreat of the Franciscans. He had perfectly distinguished their dress and arms, which were those of El Patudo and his band. Pepito had passed his youth in the valley until within the last three years, and he had been accustomed to reverence the inmates of the convent as pious and inoffensive men. These early prepossessions had not been effaced by the vicissitudes of his late adventurous life, passed amongst rude partizans, accustomed to think lightly of religion, and to make a jest of its votaries. What he had just seen, however, left no room for a doubt that there was collusion between the monks and the horde of ruffians who had laid waste his father's dwelling, and dyed its peaceful hearth with the blood of his mother and brothers. The numerous instances of monkish duplicity and cruelty which he had seen and heard of in the course of the war, rushed across his mind, and dispelled any lurking disinclination to credit the guilt of those whom as a boy he had looked up to with reverence.

These reflections occupied but a few seconds, and Pepito descended from his rock, fully decided as to the line of conduct proper to be pursued. He informed his men of what he had seen, and led them towards the convent by the most covered ways, in order to avoid being perceived by the foe they were in quest of. A small detachment was sent to guard the defile which formed one of the exits from the valley, and in half an hour's time the main body of the guerillas arrived on a sort of glacis in front of the convent. The loud summons of their leader had to be twice repeated before it obtained attention. At length a

monk drew aside the iron plate which covered a small wicket in the centre of the principal door, and sulkily enquired the name and business of those who, by their boisterous and unbecoming shouts, disturbed the brotherhood at their early matins.

"My name is Pepe Melendez," was the reply," and my business is to demand that you deliver up to me, without a moment's delay, the band of cutthroats who are now in your convent."

The monk crossed himself, and leaving the wicket, presently returned with his superior, who demanded the meaning of the strange message conveyed to him by brother Antonio.

"Your morning draught must have been a strong one, reverend father," replied Pepito, "or else my meaning is clearer to you than you would have it appear; for an hour has not elapsed since I saw your gates opened to El Patudo and his ruffians."

"My son," replied the Franciscan, 66 you are labouring under some strange delusion. There is not a living creature in the convent besides myself and my brethren, who desire no better than to be allowed to live in the worship of God, and in peace with all men."

"I have no time to discuss the matter," replied the guerilla; "I myself saw the bandits I am in search of enter your walls, and counted them as they filed through the western door. If the whole thirty-eight are not on this glacis in three minutes, or if in less than that time you do not afford me admittance in order to fetch them, I will storm the convent and hang every monk in his own cell."

"Beware, my son, how you resort to violence against us. Our doors are solid and our walls high. We are not altogether without arms, and God will protect the righteous cause."

"Amen!" answered Pepito. "The three minutes are nearly past."

The Franciscan closed the wicket and left the gate.

An instant afterwards, the monks of San Francisco were at their ironbarred windows, armed with muskets and pikes, with sabre and poniard. Mingled with the sleek and stall-fed countenances of the holy fathers, most of whom were young or middleaged men, appeared several hard-featured sunburnt visages, the expression

of which, and the half military cut of the whisker and mustache, seemed in contradiction with their religious garb.

"Will you yield, scoundrels that you are?" cried Pepito, in tones loud as a trumpet-call.

"Here is our answer," replied a powerful bass voice from the convent. A volley accompanied the words. "Forward!" cried Melendez, who saw some of his men fall; "forward, and to the gates!"

The guerillas rushed to the doors, which were of oak and studded with large-headed iron nails. For a few moments nothing was heard but the din and clatter of the musket-buts which part of the free corps used as battering-rams, whilst their comrades returned the smart fire which the besieged kept up from their windows. At length the locks and fastenings of one of the doors were blown off, and a breach effected. The iron railing which formed an inner line of defence, did not long resist the united efforts of the guerillas; and in less than twenty minutes from the commencement of the assault, Melendez and his men were in the interior of the building. They rushed to the cells-they were untenanted; to the church-it was empty. Monks and brigands, all had disappeared.

For an instant Pepito feared that his prey had escaped him, when one of his soldiers exclaimed, "The vaults! they are hidden in the vaults!"

The words were scarcely uttered when a dozen guerillas flew to the convent garden, and soon reappeared with spades and pickaxes. The flags of the church were broken to pieces by heavy strokes of these instruments, and an opening effected into the subterrannean chambers in which the bandits and their protectors had taken refuge. Torches were procured, and Melendez and the most forward of his men, springing through the aperture, immediately found themselves engaged hand to hand with the desperadoes, thus driven to stand at bay in their last retreat. El Patudo and his men had doffed the disguise under which they had mixed with the monks when firing from the windows at the commencement of the attack. Several of the Franciscans had also unrobed, in order to be less embarrassed in their movements, and now appeared in nearly the same