They descended to the court yard, set apart for the men. Its inmates were pacing it hurriedly; some jabbering to themselves; others with groups round them, to whom they addressed some quickly delivered jargon. With one or two exceptions, all noticed the entrance of the strangers; and some of them bowed to them, with mock gravity. One man, who wore an old cocked hat with a shabby feather, tapped Sir Henry on the shoulder. "Vous me reconnaissez--Napoleon! votre Empereur!" He wheeled round, and called for his Mamelukes. The next moment, a young and interesting looking person came forward, the tears standing in his, eyes, and extended his hand to Acmé. "Give me yours," said he, "as a great favour. I was a painter once in Naples--and I went to Rome--and I loved Gianetta Cantieri!" A more ludicrous incident now occurred. At and since their entrance, our party had heard what seemed the continued bark of a dog. A man on all fours came forward from behind a group, and with unmeaning face, and nostril snuffing up the wind, imitated to perfection the deep bay of a mastiff. "That man's peculiarity," observed the Baron, "is an extraordinary one. He had a cottage near Catania, and had saved some little wealth. His house was one night robbed of all it contained. This misfortune preyed on the man's reason, and he now conceives himself a watch dog. He knows the step of every inmate of the asylum, and only barks at strangers." From the male court yard, the Baron ushered them to the female, where insanity assumed a yet more melancholy shape. A pale-faced maniac, with quivering frame, and glaring eye-balls, continued to cry, in a low and piteous tone, "Murder! murder!! murder!!!" One woman, reclining on the cold pavement, dandled a straw, and called it her sweet child; while another hugged a misshapen block of wood to her bared breast, and deemed it her true love. A third was on her knees, and at regular intervals, bent down her shrivelled body, and devoured the gravel beneath her. Acmé was happy to leave the scene, and move towards the garden; which was extensive, and beautifully laid out. As they turned down one of the alleys, they encountered five or six men, drawn up in line, and armed with wooden muskets. In front stood Napoleon, who, with stentorian voice, gave the word to "present arms!" then dropping his stick, and taking off his hat to Delmé, began to converse familiarly with him, as with his friend Emperor Alexander, as to the efficiency of Poniatowski and his Polish lancers.