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that Brutus whom you admire so much." Pepe answered so bitterly that Speciale, incensed, threatened to throw the ink-stand at him, and intimated to him that he had his head in the noose. This was followed by thirty days of close confinement, after which Pepe was included in the number of those who were condemned to banishment for life, because they had borne arms against their country. In December he was conveyed to Marseilles.

Besides the fortunes of Pepe himself, these memoirs contain many interesting particulars respecting other distinguished Neapolitans, who were victims in those days of bloody terrorism. They fully corroborate the statements of Colletta, which, it appears, are by no means exaggerated. Among those victims was Caraccioli, in speaking of whose execution the author comments, in terms of just indignation, upon the conduct of Nelson.

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with the whole depth of his feelings as an Italian, not from petty, personal motives which might rather have inclined him the other way. But his hatred of the French is even more decided, and in this respect his "Recollections may be of great service to the present rulers of Lombardy, if they really expect a disinterested support from the French republic. In 1801, Pepe might have remained quietly in his country, where a political amnesty was guarantied by the French; but he would not live under their dominion; he hated the contemptible submissiveness of the king of Naples, and was almost driven mad by grief for his country. "At that period," he writes, "political excitement was very great; the youth of Italy were deeply impressed with sentiments of nationality; they read aloud the works of Alfieri, and declaimed the verses directed against the French; nor An Italian legion was subsequently formed were there wanting collisions of various kinds at Dijon, into which Pepe entered as a volun- in the towns of Lombardy." In the summer teer, and in May, 1800, marched for Switzer- of 1806, he returned from a rigorous imprisonland in the army commanded by Napoleon ment, of which we shall presently have occahimself. The passage of the St. Bernard was, sion to speak, to Naples, and found the Sovaccording to his account, a work of some diffi-ereignty of Joseph Bonaparte established. culty, but not such a wonderful achievement as is generally supposed. In this opinion Pepe coincides with the English writer, Mitchell (Fall of Napoleon, I. 59-61), and with the German historian Schlosser (Hist. Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, v. 288). On the other hand, he describes a mountain pass, through which three battalions of the legion had to make their way, and then descend the Alps on the side of Valdobia in order to reach Varallo, as almost inaccessible. He is surprised that this achievement has been so little noticed, and blames Botta, who, as a Piedmontese writer, should have possessed correct information on the subject. He dwells also upon the battle of the Sesia, and declares that this battle, which is hardly mentioned in other works, was the most dangerous and difficult undertaking in the whole campaign, fought by the Italians without any artillery, and with only the ammunition which they carried, against an enemy who was in all respects fully provided. "And the French,' he continues, "would have acknowledged this. But al though they exhibited every mark of respect for the conduct of the Italians there, during the campaign, while they fought as auxiliaries in the French ranks, often experienced the truth of what Tasso says: A premio usurpa del valor la frode.'

"

We have already called attention to the peculiarly Italian character, which gives a charm to this work. Pepe declares unreservedly that he hates the Austrians, and that

He was convinced that the times were no longer those of a republican heroism, that the name republic had become a by-word, that the better principles of the French republic had become the property of the wealthier and more enlightened classes, while all the evils of the period were perpetrated by the clergy, the lower orders, and the sovereign. It seems doubtful whether by the sovereign he means Ferdinand IV., upon whom and upon whose wife Caroline he has no praises to bestow, or Joseph Bonaparte; he does not appear to have any dislike for the latter, although he says of him, that he never understood his own position, and gave himself up to unkingly occupations. Of Murat, Pepe speaks in higher terms; he seems to have been captivated by the first glance of the new monarch, by his frank, joyous manners, his brilliant appearance, and warlike qualities. And when Murat praised the Neapolitan troops, Pepe fell into ecstacies, saw in Murat a Neapolitan Charles XII., and devoted himself to his service with the greatest activity. For Pepe was after all nothing but a soldier, and seized with avidity that idea of the unity of Italy, which gave the promise of a free and powerful country. He was accordingly able to reconcile himself to a Neapolitan viceroyalty of Italy, which under a strong government would produce a new state of national self-confidence, in lieu of the former vacillation and timidity. He derives the greatest pleasure from the | Italian troops, who, to the number of 300,000

men, fought under the national flag during | him in Italy, Spain, France, the Ionian islthe eighteen years of the union of Italy with France. But General Pepe has not remembered that these Italians fought only for the ambitious plans of Napoleon, and has forgotten to chronicle the innumerable complaints of the Italian population, their conspiracies and revolts, and the joy which they manifested, when, in 1814, they were delivered from the French yoke.

In 1810, General Pepe obtained a separate command in Spain, whither, at his earnest request, he was sent by the king. As commander of a Neapolitan brigade he introduced discipline, order, and neatness, and took part in all the important battles of the years 18101813. We find in this portion of the work many interesting details, having reference to the Italian troops, whose bravery during this war is seldom mentioned in the French accounts.

Pepe made his last campaign in 1814, under Murat, to whom he was warmly attached, when the Neapolitans and Austrians fought together against the viceroy of Italy. As this campaign has hitherto been only known from the Austrian reports, the description of an eye-witness is deserving of consideration; and the same remark applies to the chapter which relates the attempts made by Murat in the years 1810 and 1811 to effect a landing in Sicily.

Our readers will perceive that the life of General Pepe was as rich in stirring events as that of many others during the unquiet years from 1792 to 1814; but there were few who had the good fortune to be, like him, a general in his twenty-ninth year. We find

ands; at one time in open war, at another engaged in secret conspiracies against the oppressive government of Naples; at one time victorious, at another vanquished. The worst fate he endured was, when, as a youth of nineteen years of age, after the failure of the attempt to excite a revolt in Calabria, he was conveyed to the Fossa del Maritimo on the coast of Sicily. This frightful prison was originally a cistern, the descent to which was by means of a moveable wooden ladder; it was six feet wide and twenty long, but of unequal height, so that it was only in the middle that one could stand upright; except at mid-day it was quite dark; the air was very impure; it was filled with noxious insects, and five persons had to exist in it. Thence Pepe was removed to the dungeon of the castle of St. Catarina, on the island of Favignana, which was constructed in a deep excavation in the rock, damp and dark, but tolerably spacious. Here he had to live two years in the company of twenty men, who, with a few exceptions, had been convicted of murder; fortunately the humanity of the commander procured for him a few indulgencies, and he was rich enough to be able to send to Trapani for some books. We could not believe that any government in the nineteenth century could be guilty of such cruelty towards political offenders, if it was not related in this plain and unaffected narrative, and abundantly confirmed by other testimony. Pepe did not obtain his liberation until the summer of 1806, when he entered into the service of king Joseph.- Blätter für Literarische Unterhaltung.

THE PROGRESS OF A BILL.

CHAPTER I.

BY W. BLANCHARD JERROLD.

THE BILL IS ACCEPTED.

The genealogical tree of which Mr. Julius Claver Macfum was a sprig, was an old, old piece of vegetation, at least so said Mr. Julius Macfum. If the historian may rely upon the testimony of this gentleman, the Macfums came to England with the Conqueror; and, if the characteristics of this member of the family may be taken as a fair specimen of the Macfums, I should judge that Julius was right in his asseveration. Julius Macfum was not a man of education, nor was he pos

sessed of any wonderful talent, but he contrived to make a very decent figure in the world, nevertheless. In the first place, he was never seen twice in the same waistcoat a fact sufficient to establish any man's reputation in genteel society. And then, he wore mustachios and talked about the Macfums in India. He was dependent upon some unseen uncle, who forwarded him periodical remittances, and gave him to believe that he would leave him the bulk of his property. He had lately been introduced to Mr. John Henry Pursey, and had taken this young gentleman

in hand. Fortunate young Pursey! John Pursey was a young, and, need it be added, an inexperienced man, for he had married. He was not in brilliant circumstances, as may be inferred from his early marriage, for it is always your needy young men who settle in their green youth.

wine at intervals, and holding the glass to the
light; "I've been spoiled lately.'
"How so?"

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Why, I've been spending a few weeks with Lord MacFleming, in the north of Scotland, lately, and he has some of the most magnificent port, I think I may say, I ever tasted. A fine dry wine that cleans the mouth, if I may be allowed the expression. It was scarcely so pure a wine, now I call it to mind, as that I sent to an uncle of mine in Indiathe ungrateful old buffer!"

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What! did he pronounce it bad?"

He

"Oh no! not he, the old cormorant! wrote back an indignant letter, asking me if I thought half a pipe of wine (though he acknowledged that it was in fine condition) was not a shabby present to send to a relative who had been as good as a father to me. The rich old Indians imagine that we poor devils over here can make money as fast as they."

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He was a clerk in the City, and rented a seven-roomed cottage in the neighborhood of Chelsea, where he ensconced his wife and one servant, and where he usually spent his evenings and his Sundays. For six or eight months after his marriage, this modest house was his world; but by degrees a longing for some change, some excitement, to vary the monotonous quiescence of this domestic bliss, stole over him, and he wandered forth into the night haunts of London, in one of which he became acquainted with Mr. Julius Macfum. And Macfum, in the largeness of his heart and the emptiness of his pocket, determined to test the truth of his protégé's soul-to try whether he had discovered one trusting nature among the selfish and suspicious souls that choked London. And Pursey, elated with the condescensions of his mustachioed friend, vaunted the aristocratic nature of his new acquaintance to his co-clerks, with the air of a man who had made an important onward step in the world. It was arranged that the new friends should take a chop together. Macfum would have asked Pursey to his club, only he wished for a quiet evening, and he knew that he should meet Lord Condiment there, who would insist upon his supping with him; so it was arranged that they should dine at the Café de l'Europe, in the Haymarket, where Macfum assured his young friend they would get a firstrate steak and potatoes au naturel that would throw him into ecstacies. The friends met as agreed. Pursey was punctual to his appointment; but Macfum was half an hour after his time. He had been detained at the Carlton, and had just left that bore, Sir George, in the Mall. I know it, however, to be a positive fact, that Macfum paid the toll-keeper of Waterloo-sey, staring with astonishment. bridge the sum of one halfpenny, being the toll for his passage over that fabric, not a quarter of an hour before his arrival at the café. I shall not, after the fashion of certain novelists, describe the hissing chops of which the friends partook. I will simply mention the fact that Macfum insisted upon standing a bottle of the landlord's finest port, as a sedative after an ample dinner. And then began that lazy conversation in which Englishmen usually indulge after their principal meal.

Is your uncle an Indian merchant?" asked Pursey.

"Come, you 're not taking care of yourself fill. My uncle a merchant, eh? Well, I scarcely know what he calls himself; but of this fact I'm pretty certain, he has heaps of money. I take him to be an obese oldsensualist, who lies all day under a tent, and is fanned by a brace of perspiring negroes. He's unmarried, and I'm the only relation he has in the world. You don't know how exciting it is to be a member of a rich consumptive family-to see first one die, then another, and to be compelled at last to represent the entire family oneself."

"This is n't a bad glass of wine," ventured Pursey.

“Humph! ah!" said Macfum, sipping the

"And the family estate," interposed Pur

sey.

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"You sly rogue!" and the condescending Macfum poked his young acquaintance in the ribs. Yes, and the family estate-that's a consolation, certainly. Within the last two years I have lost nine relations-no great loss, certainly, as relations go.'

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"My dear Mr. Macfum!" exclaimed Pur

"My dear boy, I spoke sarcastically-it's a habit of mine. But you will allow, in common with all the world, that relations are great bores. They do take such deuced liberties with one. Sir, I would exterminate the whole race of uncles and aunts (cousins I do n't count as relations; they're merely slow connections, whom a man of sense avoids)they are such insufferable bores; and uncles, we have agreed to a man at the Carlton, that they are tyrannical old humbugs."

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Do you include your uncle in this sweeping condemnation?"

"Hang it! I scarcely know. The old fel

"I don't find much time for riding," returned Henry, anxious to avoid another falsehood, yet without sufficient strength of mind to acknowledge his ignorance of horseflesh.

"No, I suppose not; but still you use spurs now and then?"

"Oh yes, now and then." Henry Pursey's relatives could have informed Macfum, that his (Pursey's) knowledge of horseflesh was limited to an occasional canter upon the ponies stationed on Blackheath, for the especial patronage of those persons who do not object to broken knees in their horseflesh, and are not particular as to grooming.

low used to behave himself in the most liberal | ride much, or are you too much occupied with manner. At one time, I thought him the most your mercantile affairs?" generous old fool on the face of the earth; but now, dn it, he does not know how to treat a gentleman. Last year he got some odd crotchet into his head, and swore he would cut off my allowance. I wrote to him, and told him emphatically, that as a gentleman and a man of honor I could not consent to be treated like a youth of twenty; and then the stupid old fellow returned me the humblest answer in the world, enclosing me a check for double my usual allowance. Rather handsome of the old boy, certainly. Now he's got another crotchet in his head, and I've written him a rather smart letter on the subject. I shall get a remittance, I suppose, by the next overland mail; meantime I must get Lord Condiment, or Sir George, to accept a bill for me. Sir George is a deuced good-natured fellow, but the worst of him is he 's so awfully prosy. For instance, when I was in the same strait, last year, as I was just now telling you, Sir George offered to lend me a hundred pounds to last me a few days, until the arrival of the mail. To this I objected, as any considerate man would object to borrow cash of his friend if he could do without, so I frankly told him that I could n't think of using his money, but that if he would put his name to a bill for me it would answer the same purpose, and not put him to the inconvenience of drawing upon his banker. And so the matter was arranged. But let us talk upon another subject. I'm boring you with these personal matters. Have you been to the opera yet?"

Pursey, who believed, with many of his class, that if he allowed he had not been to the opera that season, he would be set down by the habitués as a vulgarian, saved his character by telling a lie. He asserted that he was at the opera on the opening night.

"In the omnibus-box?" asked Macfum, carelessly.

"No; in the pit."

"What say you, shall we lounge in there to-night? I can pass a friend."

With pleasure." And the twinkle that sparkled from Pursey's eye betrayed the flutter at his heart-showed to his friend that it was no common occurrence to him to visit the opera.

I'll introduce you to Lord Condiment; I think you 'll like him."

Henry Pursey gladly assented to this proposition. He was on the high road to distinction. To shake the hand of a live Lord! was not this to reach the summit of human ambition? "Waiter, another bottle of port! Do you

"Condiment has some first-rate flesh. As you're rather a judge, he will be glad to see you manage one of his mares. If we meet him to-night, I'll make an appointment with him for Sunday morning. Will that day suit you?"

"I'm afraid I'm engaged on the Sunday," returned Henry, anxious to avoid a display of his equestrian awkwardness before a peer of the realm, yet loth to lose so glorious an opportunity of parading himself in the company.

"Well, we can arrange a day when we meet Condiment." Here there was a pause in the conversation. Presently Macfum's eye caught the date of the month suspended against the opposite wall. He lifted his glasses hastily, and again read the date. Bless my soul!" he then exclaimed. "Waiter, is that the right day of the month?"

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Yes sir," answered that important functionary.

"Why, hang it, Sir George leaves town tonight, then. Waiter, fetch me a seven-andsixpenny bill stamp dirrectly."

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Yes sir," again vouchsafed the nimble individual addressed as waiter, as he disappeared with the money.

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Hang it, what an ass I am. I've been thinking that this was the thirteenth only. Sir George leaves town to-night, the fifteenth. He's almost the only man in the world, of whom I could ask so delicate a favor. But I may yet catch him at the Carlton. He said he should take a chop there at six. Deuce take this fellow, I wish he'd make haste. Oh! here he is! Excuse me for a few moments, my dear boy, I'm only going round to the Carlton. I shall just catch Sir George, if I run for it."

And Mr. Julius Macfum rushed into the street, leaving Henry to enjoy the remainder of the wine and his own vain reflections. "Well, I have 'nt been unlucky all my life,' soliloquized the youth. "I've done it at last,

I wonder whether Macfum could get one a post in the Treasury. If Macfum can 't, I should think Lord Condiment could, easily. Macfum is a deuced good fellow; there's no mistake about that. What would Mary say, if she could see me hand in glove with half the aristocracy of the land? She'll want to be introduced to Lady Condiment and Sir George's wife but how's it to be done? I can't ask Condiment home to our grubby place: ecod! no; he 'd cut me directly. It's a deuced bore. Ho! here's Macfum!"

He's off!-Lady George fetched him in the travelling carriage at half-past five. It's a confounded nuisance! I'm hanged if I don't cut the Carlton." "Why?"

"Because of late they 've admitted some great snobs, whom it turns one ill to meet. I was near upon knocking one of the plebeians down just now--a coarse brute! I was in the reading-room, making some inquiries after Sir George, when the fellow came up and asked me if I wanted to see the Baronet very particularly? I told him, conceiving that he was a gentleman, that I did wish to see Sir George on an urgent pecuniary matter, when the grossier presumed to ask if he could be of any service?-he-an utter stranger! I told him I'd a good mind to horsewhip him for his insolence; and I added, by way of a lesson to the ignorant scoundrel, You should know, sir, that a gentleman receives a favor from no man who is not strictly his friend.' The fellow addressed me as familiarly as you or Condiment would."

"I am thankful for your earnest friendship," answered Pursey, his breast bounding with gratitude at the delicate compliment of his companion.

Macfum threw the bill stamp upon the table, seized the decanter, and filled two brimming glasses. Now, Pursey, let's drink to a lasting friendship."

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With unfeigned pleasure," answered Pursey, extending his hand to Macfum; and the two drank to that rarity-a lasting friendship. "Condiment is at the club now: he rather annoyed me. Waiter, bring a pen and some ink-and a sheet of paper. I must write a word to Captain Butter; so you'll excuse me, Pursey? And Macfum wrote a short note to his worthy friend in the Guards.

Surely each soldier in the said regiment must have at least five hundred friends, if we take into account the crowd of people who claim friendship with this highly fashionable and highly useless corps.

"Waiter! have you a porter to take a letter as far as the Horse Guards? shouted Mac

fum, when he had completed the arrangement of his epistle. "Never mind, I'll take it myself. As I was telling you, Condiment annoyed me rather. He said that if I had asked him he would have been happy to oblige me with his name to the bill. But, as I told him, how could he expect me to mention such a matter to him, when he had not so much as hinted his willingness to serve me! I therefore, of course, declined his offer. Don't you think it was acting as became a man of spirit?" "Certainly. I admire your spirit exceedingly." Pursey's enthusiasm in favor of his companion was now extreme. He took a pen, drew the bill towards him, and attached his name thereto, in spite of the remonstrances of Macfum, who protested that he would not have asked such a favor of Pursey upon such a short acquaintance for worlds. Pursey begged that his friend would not mention so slight a favor, and presently the two separated for their respective homes to dress for the opera.

CHAPTER II. THE BILL IS CASHED.

When Henry Pursey was fairly out of sight, Macfum shaped his course in the direction of Furnival's Inn. He drew the bill from his pocket, and read it over, chuckling the while, and then he hastened onwards. "I wonder whether the old rascal is at his office yet," he soliloquized, "or whether he has shut up that vile swindling shop of his for the night.' The current of Macfum's thoughts then ebbed back to the café; and, as he hastened to the inn, he recalled the points of his manœuvre to mind, and felt serenely conscious of his talents as a trickster. Among his associates Macfum numbered a few young Lords and a sprinkling of mushroom Baronets; and these green and "fast" noblemen, the height of whose ambition was to train a winner for the Derby, or make more cannons than anybody else, and who had promised their progenitors to turn presently from a study of horseflesh to that of politics, patronized Macfum, and associated with him, because he was a jolly fellow and an aristocratic-looking dog. He was an expert practical joker, and was admired for his daring, and for his unfailing impudence. He had gained a bet with Lord Rappee, that he would get a Scotchman to accept a bill; and his success in the matter had established his reputation for consummate tact. It was generally believed that Macfum had accomplished what the persuasive powers of fifty special pleaders would have failed to bring about, namely, the acceptance of a bill by a Scotchman. Indeed, it is reported that the duped Scot was thenceforward looked upon by his countrymen as a

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