We had done our duty. Though by force of numbers they had beaten us out of the last stronghold of Ferdinand IV. and the British in Calabria, they had gained only a pile of shapeless ruin; and at the dear price of many a gallant fellow. We were now on the open ocean—three minutes before, we were manning the frightful breach! The storm died away, and the bright Ausonian sun arose in his glory: the shores of Sicily, studded with towns and castles, the green woods, the sparkling sandy beach, the bright Neptunian hills, and the red tower of the Lantern, were all radiant with light. The shore we had left, and the blood-stained Scylla, diminished in the distance, as our sailors bent to their flashing oars, and the bellying canvass swelled on the morning wind, which blew from the pine-clad Apennines. "Courage, Bianca!" I exclaimed, and threw my arm around her; "we are beyond range even of cannon, now." "Anima mia," she whispered, as she laid her head on my shoulder, "you are safe and I am happy!" And thus ended MY CAMPAIGN IN THE CALABRIAS. Printed by STEWART and MURRAY, Old Bailey