The liberated seamen once more pushed forward, no longer guided by Isabella, who had got as far as her knowledge of the place extended, and were again, in nautical language, "brought up all standing." A priest, returning from the death-bed of one of his flock, saw them gliding along silently and in "Indian file." His head being full of good wine, death, the devil, &c., and the place enjoying moreover the reputation of being haunted, his imagination magnified and multiplied the seven fugitives into a legion of devils, with horns, tails, and fiery breath complete. Under this impression he began to thunder forth a Latin form of exorcism: "In nomine sanctae Trinitatis et purissimae Virginis, exorcizo vos! Apage, Satana! Vade retro, diabole!" &c. &c. in such abominably bad Latin, that a devil or a ghost of the least classical taste would have incontinently fled to the Red Sea, without waiting to hear another syllable of the formula that sent him thither. The bawling of the priest awoke several of the neighbors, and sundry night-capped heads were protruded from the windows of the nearest houses; but the proprietors, catching a glimpse of the objects of the priest's alarm, and not caring to play bo-peep with the devil, closed and barred their casements, and betook them to their beads. The party glided on in the same swift, silent pace; but the hindmost sailor, irritated by the continued vociferation of the priest, and stumbling at that moment over the carcase of a dog that had given up the ghost a few hours before, seized it by the hind leg, and flung it at the holy man with such true aim and force, as brought him to the ground. Luckily the monk swooned away with terror at this unexpected buffeting in the flesh from Satan, and his noise was consequently stopped. The next moment the party plunged into the bushy path, and were instantly lost to the view of the inhabitants, if indeed any were looking after them.