numbers being transmitted hither and thither
by the fraternity with a speed and exactitude
that the telegraph itself never rivalled. To the
poor and unlettered man awaiting his fate at
some remote village, and not trusting to public
sources of information, it is scarcely credible
what a boon was the intelligence brought by
some Camorristo, who even could lighten the load
of heavy fortune by assurances of better luck in
store, or some explanation as to the peculiar
causes which were then so adverse to his benefit.

As the lowest venture in the state lottery is
four carlini, or about a franc and a half, on
the Saturday, the last day of the venture, it
is rare for the poor Neapolitan who has played
during the entire week to find a single grain in
his pocket. With, however, the very smallest
coin he can scrape out of it, he repairs to the
office of some secret Camorrist, and by his
intervention is able to associate himself with others
as poor and as speculative as himself, and by
whose conjoint efforts the requisite sum is made
up. If the venture should win, the Camorrist
distributes the gain with a marvellous probity
and accuracy; when a failure is announced,
not the slightest shadow of a doubt ever obtains
as to the fairness and credit to the Camorrist
who proclaims it.

The tax of the Camorra was not, however,
limited to the vices of the poor man. An
agent of the sect was to be seen at fashionable
gaming-tables, and at the doors of houses of
private play, exacting his "tenth," the recognised
mulct, with a regularity that showed how
the "institution" was regarded.

As in that open-air life popular in the south,
a party have amused themselves with a game
at cards before their own door of an evening,
an agent of the Camorra has suddenly
appeared to claim his dividend. Though assured
that they are playing for nothing, it avails not;
he regrets the circumstance with politeness, but,
reasserts his claim, and with success; for all
are aware that however luck may vacillate at
play, he who resists the Camorra defies fate and
fortune.

The very fact that the Camorra had never
connected itself with politics, rendered it a
useful agent in the hands of a corrupt and
tyrannical government. The severities which
the liberal party well knew they had to expect
from the state, were, however, as nothing
compared to the atrocities in store if the
Camorra should be loosened upon them. It
was by dark hints at such a day of reckoning,
that Ferdinand held in check those who would
not have feared to adventure their fortune in
a contest with all the force of government. It
was also by appealing to this sect that the king
assumed to enjoy that popularity among his
subjects, by which he replied to the energetic
protests of France and England.

"Ask the Neapolitans how they feel towards
me!" said he to M. Bresson, the French
minister, who had, in writing home to his court,
to own that the lowest rabble of Naples
entertained for the king a devotion that was
marvellous. In fact, the only offences which
never could be pardoned under the Bourbon
dynasty, were those against the state. The
terrible crimes which rend society in twain;
the fearful acts which make men almost despair
of humanity; were all more or less mercifully
dealt with. Talarico, for instance, the assassin
of a dozen people, was banished to a pleasant
and salubrious island, pensioned, and set at
liberty. The world knows the story of Poerio
and his companions in the terrible scenes of '49.
The lowest populace sided entirely with the
monarchy, and this show of popular sympathy
offered to strangers one of the most puzzling
and difficult problems of the day. Minister
after minister wrote home to their several courts,
"We cannot deny, as little can we explain, the
marvellous popularity the king enjoys."

"Which of your masters," said the king on
one day of a court reception to the assembled
ambassadors—"which of your masters can go
amongst his people with more confidence than I
can? Come down with me into the street, and
see whether I am loved by my people!"

At length, the liberal party found means
to open negotiations with the leaders of the
Camorra. They were not very promising, it
is true, and vouched little for the patriotic
aspirations of these sectaries, who only saw in
the prospect of a revolution a question of their
own material benefit. The Camorrists talked
big; spoke of their numbers, their courage, and
so forth; but did nothing beyond excite the
fears of the royalists, who really dreaded them
with a most disproportionate terror. At length
the prefect of police determined on the bold
step of arresting the Camorrists, and banishing
them to Ischia; and out of this imprisonment
they grew, as fellow-sufferers with
Poerio and Spaventa, to regard themselves
as political martyrs and patriots. Liberated
on Garibaldi's entrance into Naples, their
first act was to attack all the agents of the
police, and destroy all the documents of that
office. They were, in twenty-four hours, the
masters of the capital. It was in this contingency
that Liborio Romano bethought himself
of enlisting these men in the cause of order and
law. On one side was a baffled, enraged, and
dishonoured soldiery, ready for pillage, and
eager to cover their shame by acts of outrage
and violence; on the other, were the helpless,
unarmed, and trembling citizens. The old
police was disbanded; the National Guard not
yet organised; the priestly party only waiting
for opportunity to renew the atrocious scenes
of ten years before. They had even hired
stores to receive the pillage! It was, it is said,
at the suggestions of an old Bourbon adherent, a
general, that Liborio Romano took this daring
step. "Do as we did in times of danger; fall
back on the mob," was the counsel. Blame
him, as one may, Camorra saved Naples!

Emboldened by his success, Liborio Romano
now organised them into a sort of regular police
force, under their own chiefs, and, marvellous
to say, for the first month or two the experiment