tern
fortress that crowned it, and all agreed that an attack must be
hopeless.

I saw, too late, the great fault I had committed, and that nothing could
be more wanting in tact than to suggest to Frenchmen an enterprise which
Englishmen deemed practicable, and which yet, to the former, seemed
beyond all reach of success. The insult was too palpable and too direct;
but to retract was impossible, and I had now to sustain a proposition
which gave offence on every side.

It was very mortifying to me to see how soon all my personal credit
was merged in this unhappy theory. No one thought more of my hazardous
escape, the perils I encountered, or the sufferings I had undergone. All
that was remembered of me was the affront I had offered to the national
courage, and the preference I had implied to English bravery.

Never did I pass a more tormenting day. New arrivals continually
refreshed the discussion, and always with the same results. And although
some were satisfied to convey their opinions by a shake of the head or a
dubious smile, others, more candid than civil, plainly intimated that if
I had nothing of more consequence to tell, I might as well have stayed
where I was, and not added one more to a garrison so closely pressed by
hunger. Very little more of such reasoning would have persuaded myself
of its truth, and I almost began to wish that I was once more back in
the 'sick bay' of the frigate.

Towards evening I was left alone. My host went down to the town on
duty; and after the visit of a tailor, who came to try on me a staff
uniform--a distinction, I afterwards learned, owing to the abundance
of this class of costume, and not to any claims I could prefer to the
rank--I was perfectly free to stroll about where I pleased unmolested,
and, no small blessing, unquestioned.

On following along the walls for some distance, I came to a part where
a succession of deep ravines opened at the foot of the bastions,
conducting by many a tortuous and rocky glen to the Apennines. The
sides of these gorges were dotted here and there with wild hollies and
fig-trees, stunted and ill-thriven, as the nature of the soil might
imply. Still, for the sake of the few berries, or the sapless fruit they
bore, the soldiers of the garrison were accustomed to creep out from the
embrasures and descend the steep cliffs--a peril great enough in
itself, but terribly increased by the risk of exposure to the enemy's
tirailleurs, as well as the co