* * * * *

AN INCIDENT AT FONDI.

"Away--three cheers--on we go."


The morning was delightful; neither Corregio, nor Claude, with all their
magic of conception could have made it lovelier. The heaven expanded like
an azure sea--and the dimpling clouds of gold were its Elysian isles--not
unlike the splendid images we are apt to admire in the poems of _Petrarch_
and _Alamanni_. The music of the birds kept time to the sound of the
postilions' whips--the streams sung a fairy legend, and the merry woods,
touched with the brilliant glow of an Italian sun, breathed into the air
a delicious sonata. Such a morning as this was formed for something
memorable! The Grand Diavolo and his bravest ruffians awaited the
travellers' approach.

The carriage had pursued the direction of the path at a speed unequalled
in the annals of the postilions; but the termination of the dell did not
appear. Huge impending cliffs with their crown of trees imparted a shadowy
depth to the solitude, which the travellers did not seem to relish.

"How cursed inconvenient is this dell with its frightful woods," said the
baronet to his smiling daughter, "one might as well be sequestered in
Dante's Inferno. Look at those awful rocks--my mind misgives me as I view
them. Sure there are no brigands concealed hereabout!"

"Hope not, Pa'," replied the graceful Rosalia; but the last word had
scarcely died on her lips, ere a discharge of shot was heard. The baronet