"_Civis Brittanicus sum_," I replied, and then I began to relate my history, my misfortunes, and how I had prayed to be delivered from such a dreadful death, begging her to show me the way out of these horrid catacombs as soon as possible. "_Hac conditione_,"--On this condition--she said. "_Quaenam est?_" What is it? I asked. She replied thus: "_Annulus quem in digito geris quem quidem circiter quinque Sestertia valet et meus erat nom habui a viro quem delexi vende ad levandum meum spiritum._" Here was a surprise! The ring that I had purchased previously to starting off for the catacombs belonged and had been worn by the spirit before me when in the flesh! The man of whom I bought it spoke the truth then--when he said that it had been found where the vestal virgins used to be buried alive. What a curious coincidence! Now I was called upon to sell it again to pay for masses for the poor disembodied spirit, and as a condition of being set free myself from this dungeon. I was loth to part with the ring I had paid so highly for, especially now that such an interesting history was attached to it. Yet, what will not a man do to save his life? "_Sic erit_," I replied. It shall be done. "_Jamnunc sequere me_," said she, beckoning to me with her pale emaciated finger, which together with the hand and arm was so skinny that it might have belonged to a skeleton. I followed accordingly, and was led through many a long corridor, passing many a tomb of martyred saint, though by a different route to that which I had taken. My guide walked on before me in silence. That is to say, she did not converse with me more, but ever to herself I heard the muttered words "_Peccavi! peccavi!_" beating her breast as she went. As I followed my guide, my ears suddenly caught the tones of distant chanting. "_Quid sibi volunt cantus isti?_" What is the meaning of that singing? She answered merely by beckoning me on and hastening her steps. The singing grew more and more distinct, and as we approached I noticed a dim gleam of light ahead. Then, shortly turning a corner, I found myself suddenly in a little chapel, like, in appearance, to the rest I had seen, but lighted up with many candles, and with an altar on which stood a rudely-carved crucifix, a chalice, etc. But how shall I describe my horror, consternation, and disgust on beholding the strange congregation there assembled? It was easy to see with half an eye that they were no beings of this world. They were seven, I think, in number; indeed, the chapel had hardly room for more, and to my dying day, never can I forget that horrible sight. One of them, who stood at the altar, and who seemed to be the priest, had evidently been decapitated. He stood upright, holding his head under his arm.