baptism of the child, mostly consisting of
tumbles from horseback, whereby his legs or
arms suffered severely. Accordingly, I think it
is quite fair to assume from these premises, that
christening parties then, as now, were merry
parties, and that more caudle, wine, and nut-brown ale
occasionally mounted into the heads of the guests,
than was altogether consistent with the steadiness
of their seats or the safety of their persons.

OVER THE MOUNTAIN.

LIKE dreary prison walls
    The stern grey mountains rise,
Until their topmost crags
    Touch the far gloomy skies:
One steep and narrow path
    Winds up the mountain's crest,
And from our valley leads
    Out to the golden West.

I dwell here in content,
    Thankful for tranquil days;
And yet, my eyes grow dim,
    As still I gaze and gaze
Upon that mountain pass,
    That leads—or so it seems—
To some far happy land,
    Known in a world of dreams.

And as I watch that path
    Over the distant hill,
A foolish longing comes
    My heart and soul to fill,
A painful, strange desire
    To break some weary bond;
A vague unuttered wish
    For what might lie beyond.

In that far world unknown,
    Over that distant hill,
May dwell the loved and lost,
    Lost—yet beloved still;
I have a yearning hope,
    Half longing, and half pain,
That by that mountain pass
    They may return again.

Space may keep friends apart,
    Death has a mighty thrall;
There is another gulf
    Harder to cross than all;
Yet watching that far road,
    My heart beats full and fast;—
If they should come once more,
    If they should come at last!

See, down the mountain side
    The silver vapours creep;
They hide the rocky cliffs,
    They hide the craggy steep,
They hide the narrow path
    That comes across the hill,—
Oh, foolish longing cease,
    Oh, beating Heart, be still!

THE SACK OF PERUGIA.

I.

THE news of the victory of Magenta set the
Papal States in a sudden blaze, like the falling
of a spark on powder, and one city after another
throughout the Legations and the March of
Ancona rose as if by signal against the Papal
rule. Bologna sounded the note of insurrection
and defiance first. The cities of the Romagna,
though weaker and nearer the tyrant's arm,
followed the contagious example in rapid succession.
Lastly, brave old Perugia, sitting on her
oak-embowered Etruscan hill, looking over the
storied waters of Thrasimene, dared to throw in
her lot with her sister cities.

On the 14th of last June the people of Perugia,
assembling in the great square, decided that they
would no longer obey or acknowledge the
Pontifical government. This facility of combination
and spontaneous initiation is a very curious and
noteworthy peculiarity in the character of the
people inhabiting the ancient municipal cities of
Italy. Having its root in the social forms of
ante-Christian, and even, in many cases, of
ante-Roman civilisation, it has, in a wonderful
degree, survived all that has in these latter
centuries so strongly tended to kill it, and still
crops out to the surface whenever any "fault"
in the monotonous dead-weight of despotic rule
gives it the least opportunity.

On that bright June morning the city of
Perugia was represented in the great square by
a numerous but perfectly orderly concourse of
persons belonging to every class of society. The
crowd was at first nearly silent, but broke out
into cries of "Viva Italia!" "Viva la guerra!"
"Viva Vittorio Emmanuele!" as soon as the
grave and dangerous determination to rise
against the Pontifical government was understood
to be definitively adopted. This determination
was forthwith calmly and respectfully
intimated to the Pope's delegate; who, having
consulted the officers of such troops as were in
the fortress, at once declared that he had no
means of resisting the popular will, and
demanded to be allowed to retire from the city
with his soldiers. This was immediately
conceded on the part of the citizens; and one of
the members of the provisional government,
which had been named by popular acclamation,
accompanied him to the gate through the
crowded but, while he was passing, perfectly
silent streets. The creatures of the government,
such as directors of the secret police, spies,
and soldiers, left the city with the delegate, not
only unmolested, but provided with a thousand
crowns for the expenses of their journey. The
authorities in thus leaving the city did not hand
over the government, or any of the means of carrying
it on, to their successors. On the contrary,
they endeavoured to make the maintenance of
civil order impossible by carrying away with
them all documents and accounts of the
tribunals, tax-gatherers, and other public offices.
Even the archives of the registry-office and
those of the keeper of mortgages were thus
removed.

All that represented the Papal government,
and, indeed, almost all the framework of civil
society, thus marched quietly out of the dark-browed
and frowning gateway, and down the
picturesque oak-grown hill on which the Etruscans,
after their fashion, placed their city; and
Perugia was left to herself to meditate on the
probable consequences of the step she had taken,
and to manage her own affairs for herself as best
she might.