the others more sensibly employed in discussing the merits of ham and

tomatoes.

Presently the report of a gun booms through the distance: too loud for a musket-too loud even for a trabujo. Another and another succeed, and now a ball crashing through the roof falls on the table, pierces it, and buries itself in the floor. A mule battery had been planted so as to command the citadel.

All eyes were bent towards the scene of destruction, yet few were the words spoken. A stern smile played for an instant over the chief's features, as glancing from the corpse-like pallor of the Englishman to the heaps of rubbish on the floor raised by the cannon-ball, he possibly contrasted the prisoner's terror with his own nonchalance. Then hurriedly finishing his meal, he arose, and, unslinging his blunderbuss from the wall, began to examine its condition and contents.

His band-some three hundred in number-had already done the same, and now they stood, armed to the teeth, a stern and stalwart crew, ready for any command their chief might utter.

Symptoms of the coming fray increase. Arms clatter, cartridges are handed about, and the click of the gun-lock mingles with the bloodcurdling sound of knives being sharpened against the rough stone walls! The chief waves his hand and calls attention by the usual Spanish method of a short serpent-like hiss.

Obedient to the signal, all are instantly quiet. The men stand listening for his word of command. Bang, bang, bang! quickly follow the report of three mule guns, and, true to their aim, the iron missiles crash along the roof, and ricochetting fly on beyond the limits of the fortress.

The chieftain appeared determined to take things very coolly. Without discomposing himself, even by gesture in the slightest degree, he simply directed his eyes towards some rocky fragments which the missiles had dislodged, and dryly uttered the Spanish proverb, "that, although the dog barks, the moon still follows her course;" thus indicating his resolve not to depart from a fixed line of action merely because of the annoyance of some few cannon-balls.

Then turning towards his companions, he shouted Pascual! In answer to this summons, one of his retainers advanced from the ranks, bearing a basket full of hard eggs, and an earthen cantaro or jug. Such provision for creature-comfort may strike the reader as somewhat out of place, but the explanation is this. The attack had not only been foreseen, but premeditated-brought about by the guerilla himself, although not its exact time. The enemy was about to fall into one of his toils. He must presently sally forth with his retainers and do battle, but meantime what is to become of the captured engineer?

Very fertile in expedients was the brain of the chief. In the event of such a casualty as an attack at this time, he had by anticipation devised a plan for the prisoner's safe custody; and this too without a guard. In one corner of the court-yard or patio of which we have spoken there was a deep draw well, into the bucket of which the captive along with his eggs was thrust; Alejandro duly explaining to him that his safe custody alone was intended. Thus equipped, they lowered him, turn by turn, until he arrived within easy reach of the water, of which salubrious fluid he had abundant means of helping himself ad libitum, by means of his jug. Turn by turn as they let him down a groan escaped and piteously re

verberated up the shaft; at last a peg was driven into the windlass, and the bucket came to a stand.

Philosophers tell us, that being in a deep well one can look up and see the stars even at mid-day. If this be true, Tom had abundant leisure to work out his destiny in profoundest tranquillity by communion with the heavenly bodies. Was there no hope of escape?-None. A skilful climber would have mounted that chain you think-would he? The lobo might have been called fox as well as wolf, if named from another of his striking qualities. He was not to be thus deceived. Every here and there, on the chain's length, was securely tied a most uncomfortable bunch of cactus leaves, bristling with their rigid spines, and he who would have climbed such a gauntlet must, indeed, have possessed tough

skin!

There was no hope-none. So there he sat, and there we will leave him.

The crash of artillery grows louder and more frequent; the Carlists have sallied out to meet the foe. Minute after minute fleets away, and cannon reports alone are heard. A quarter of an hour passes, and only a few musket-shots are borne towards the ear.

Let us approach the field of strife.

Surmounting, or commanding as military men would say, the plateau of the Carlist fort, was another plateau of much larger size. This, the Christino mule battery had gained, and thence from a distance of about 600 yards they directed a furious assault against the fort.

Opposed to the Christinos, and at a distance of about 100 yards, were some fifty guerillas of the lobo's band, who, guarding themselves as best they could by shrubs and projecting rocks, kept up against the assailants a fire of musketry. No single discharge was wasted. The Carlists were cool and self-possessed. Each musket being fired on the rest, the band had much of the power of riflemen; and the Christino officers falling one by one, rendered it necessary that the fifty should be dislodged.

For that purpose a troop of infantry, putting themselves in motion, left the plateau at given command; and steadying themselves in their descent by shrubs and projecting rocks, hastened towards the ambushed fifty with the view of driving them from their position.

No sooner had the last soldier of this band left the plateau than the whole bulk of the Carlist chieftain's men poured down on the artillery in the rear. Whilst the fifty were attacking the main body of the enemy's troops in front, the others had stealthily executed a flanking movement, gained the rear, and now charged wildly on their antagonists.

The Christinos were caught in the lobo's net, and although superior in number and in arms, they were irretrievably lost!

Short but frightful was the scene that ensued. Hand to hand they fought with the stern valour of those who neither give, nor receive quarter. In the mêlée the discharge of firearms would have endangered friend as well as foe. As if it had been arranged by common consent, the combat now resolved itself into a mêlée of bayonets and knives. Occasionally an explosion of firearms was heard; but this was merely of a pistol, used in combat so close that the bullet could not miss its aim. At such work, between guerillas and regulars, the issue of a conflict is usually neither doubtful nor prolonged. It was not in this case. The guerillas soon cleared the plateau of every living being, and returned to

their stronghold. The sun rose and dried the gory rivulets into streaks which glittered under his beams; the mountain breeze wafted the groans of the dying to the vulture's eyrie; and ere the shades of night set in, these carrion birds had gorged on the flesh of many a soldier who a few short hours before contended in all the arrogance of war for the honour of his Queen!

But what became of Dawson and his eggs? Why, to cut a long matter short, the end of his romance was this. The battle being over, there were dead to be buried and wounded to be dressed; and it was not until after Tom had remained twenty-four hours in his deep recess that the idea came into anybody's head to wind him up. Now there were wounded to be dressed, as we have intimated, and a notion of English talent having run very high, the doctor of the Mataro railway line had been inveigled, not solely against his will it is said, to lend his professional aid. By the lips of this functionary, the mountain chief was assured, with many a boisterous laugh, that after all his trouble he had kidnapped the wrong man-a mere labourer at a few reals

66

per week!

Amigo lobo!" said the doctor, slapping the chief familiarly on the back, "your character for sharpness is gone for ever."

"Caramba!" retorted the Catalan, "it was in the dark I caught

him."

"Bueno, bueno! but hoist the poor devil out. I won't disclose the fact nor damage your character."

The Catalan, although vexed, could not restrain a smile at the ridiculous mistake he had made. He bit his nails with embarrassment, and smiled by turns; then beckoning to an attendant, he bade him turn the winch.

Click! click! click! Each revolution brought the buried Tom a turn nearer to the surface. Long confinement is said to have a paralysing effect upon the limbs. In this case it was quite the reverse. No sooner did Tom arrive within leaping distance, and before his head arrived on a level with the well's mouth, he made a sudden spring, bounded out, and settled amidst the assembled crowd on all fours. He was dripping with pearly moisture; and this, together with his strange action, staring eyes, and widely gaping mouth, reminded one strongly of a frog.

"Bueno, bueno, buenissimo!" shouted the Spaniards, on observing Tom's feat.

"Well done, Tom!" exclaimed the doctor; "that's what comes of living amongst frogs."

Tom's surprise at meeting his own doctor may be so easily imagined. that we will not detain the reader by any remarks of our own on that point-neither will we waste his time by informing him of the various jokes and jibes which Tom had to put up with.

Whilst the Spaniards amused themselves by these jeux d'esprit, the doctor, making a very polite bow to the lobo, and proffering him a cigarrito, dryly remarked, "That truth was usually said to reside in a well, but that on this occasion the well had sent forth what to the best of his belief was the incarnation of every lie, past, present, and to come."

Need it be said that the real engineer ever after kept a bright lookout for his own safety, lest he should be obliged to accept the dangerous responsibility of placing in battery the lobo's newly acquired park of guns?

ASSIZE SCENES.

THE GRAND JURY FARCE.

A ROOM full of rosy-gilled, John Bull-looking squires, in full cry after various subjects-hay, harrows, horses, hounds-is startled by a flourish of trumpets, and the rushing in of a white-wanded bailiff, exclaiming, "Gentlemen of the grand jury wanted in Kurt!" They forthwith hide their hats and canes, hoping they won't be stolen, pull on their buckskin gloves, and scramble into a spacious pen of a box just as the judge, Baron Funnyfile, is bowing to Messrs. Briefless, Dunup, Drearyface, and other ornaments of the "rope walk," before taking his seat for the day. Silence being at length obtained, the commission of the peace is called over, and her Majesty's most gracious proclamation against vice and immorality openly read. The magnates of the grand-jury box then answer to their names and are sworn, the florid verbiage of the foreman's oath contrasting with the plainness of the "you say ditto to that" of the rest.

His lordship then turns sideways in his richly carved crimson velvet chair, and glancing a laughing eye along the line of looming waistcoats, thus addresses the standing men inside them: "Gentlemen of the grand (hem) inquest,-it is extremely gratifying (hem) to see such a full attendance of gentlemen of your (hem) figure and substance in the county"his lordship thinking he never saw so many fat men before,-" many of you, I make no doubt, have left your homes at great personal sacrifice and inconvenience"-(and, to himself, "perhaps injury to your hay"). "The benefit of a resident magistracy," continues he, "fulfilling all the (hem) duties of their high station in the exemplary way they do in this county is abundantly testified by the lightness of the calendar before me"-(or, sotto voce, "it may be from not having a rural police to hunt up your crime")-aloud: "your experience as magistrates"-(to himself, "a nice set of Solomons you are, I dare say)-aloud again: "will enable you to deal with any cases that may be brought before you. As you are not encumbered with depositions, or anything to distract your attention, you will, perhaps, soon be able to favour me with a commencement of those valuable (hem) services for which a grateful (hem) country can never be sufficiently (hem) thankful." Whereupon his lordship makes a solemn bow, which the grand jury return, each man after his own fashion, and they all scuttle away to the place from whence they came, hoping to find their hats where they left them, declaring that his lordship is a most agreeable, sensible man, and believing that they are going to be uncommonly useful.

SCENE THE SECOND.-THE GRAND JURY ROOM.

Four-and-twenty Grand Jurors ranged at a long green baize-covered Table, garnished with Pens, Ink, and Paper.—Time, an hour or so after the above.

A GENERAL hum of conversation-much such as prevails at a race ordinary on the removal of the cloth; Mr. Girths asking Mr. Blinkers what he will take for his brown mare; Squire Screecher wondering whether Captain Dips will want a subscription if he takes the hounds; Mr. Lark

spur inquiring after some lupins he had sent Mrs. Poppy; old Mr. Moneybags declaring he won't vote for young Lord Longbow, unless he'll support a fixed duty on corn; another asking about the dinner hour -a general hum of conversation, we say, is interrupted by the loud knocking of Sir Thomas Ninepence, the foreman, on the table, followed by cries of "Silence, silence! order! chair!" from those who have been making the most noise.

The worthy baronet, assisted by a few friends on either side, has been endeavouring to grope his way to the truth through a long list of witnesses, on the back of a formidable bill of indictment, against the celebrated Lucifer Crowbar, the London cracksman, for burglary, and which, though bolstered up with a fine array of circumstantial evidence, is deficient in the main proof. The fact is, that Tom Riverags, the great thieves' attorney, has mesmerised the principal witness, Joseph Hobnail, whose farmhouse was broken into, and Joe's memory has failed him.

What he swore to point blank before the magistrate he only thinks now; and altogether he is painfully conscientious. He "wouldn't like to swear nothin' he's not certain of." There's an earnest honesty about his wrinkled sunburnt face, shaded with venerable snow-white locks, that looks like truth. Sir Thomas Ninepence is puzzled. "Pray attend to this, gentlemen!" he exclaims, from the top of the table.

"What's the number?" asks Mr. Blinkers, referring to his calendar. "Six," replies Mr. Screecher, across the table.

"Is that the assault on the woman?" asks Mr. Badlad, from below. "No," growls Mr. Prettyman, with a frown.

Sir Thomas, in a clear business-like way, then states the difficulty, observing that he does not think a petty jury will convict on the evidence, while if they ignore the bill, and any fresh evidence be afterwards procured, Crowbar can then be put on his trial.

"That's to say if you can catch him again," observes Mr. Screecher. "Wish you may get him!" exclaims Mr. Larkspur.

"Bird in the hand's worth two in the bush," suggests Mr. Blinkers. "Precious little chance of getting any further evidence if he's in the hands of any of the great unhung," observes Mr. Girths. "Alibis, five pounds; suppression of evidence, two pound' ten; witnesses to character, seven and sixpence each." (Laughter.)

"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?" asks Sir Thomas.

"O! give him a squeak for it now," says Mr. Poppy.

"Cost no more," observes Mr. Blinkers.

"No doubt he did it," says Mr. Snoreem.

"Or something quite as bad," joins Mr. Boreem. "Or he wouldn't be here," asserts Mr. Floorem.

"His name's enough," adds Mr. Quorum."

On a show of hands, however, the bill is thrown out, and, on the application of Mr. Drearyface, his lordship allows the costs of the judicial farce.

The filthy "rags" reels off with the prisoner, vowing that he will bring an action on behalf of his most respectable and much-injured client!