At the hut of a poor charcoal-burner I received some refreshments and ascertained the right (or rather safest) path; the honest peasant, on partly learning the circumstances of my escape, shouldered his rifle, stuck a poniard in his girdle, and accompanied me as far as Gioja; where, after shewing me from the heights the French watch-fires at Seminara, he left me. I was pleased when he did so, for then only I became convinced that his intentions were honest. While travelling with him unarmed I was somewhat suspicious of his kindness: but I did him wrong; he was a hardy and loyal Calabrian, and my fears were groundless. Regretting having brought him so far from his hut, I gave him three crowns, nearly all the money in my possession: at first he refused it; but the temptation was too great for the poor peasant, whose only attire was a jacket of rough skin, a pair of tattered breeches, the net which confined his ample masses of hair, and the buff belt sustaining his dagger and powder-horn. Muttering something about his little ones at home, he took the reward, with many bows and protestations, and we parted. Rejoicing in my progress, I struck into a path up the hills towards Oppido. The utmost circumspection was now necessary: every avenue to Scylla being closely guarded by Regnier’s picquets and chain of advanced sentries. About midnight I lost my way among the woods and defiles. I was drenched by falling into a swampy rice plantation, and severely cut and bruised by the rocks and roots of trees: the night being so dark that I could scarcely see my hand outstretched before me. A sudden storm of rain and wind, which swept down from the hills, completed my discomfiture; and I hailed with joy a light which twinkled at the bottom of a deep and savage dell: seeming, from the eminence on which I stood, like a lantern at the bottom of a pit. It proved to be an albergo, or lonely mountain inn; but of the most wretched description. Exhausted and weather-beaten as I was, the many unpleasant stories I had heard of those suspicious places, and the close connection of their owners with the banditti occurred to me; but this did not discourage me from knocking at the door. Close to it stood a lumbering old-fashioned Sicilian carriage; which announced a visitor of some importance; and the moment I knocked, a violent altercation ensued as to whether or not the door should be opened. "Signor Albergatore," cried a squeaking voice, "open the door at your peril! Open it—and I shall lay the whole affair before his excellency, the president of the Grand Civil Court."