Nor did the actual terrors of the fight diminish the spirit of valour with which they had commenced it. The dead, as they fell, were blessed by the watchful priest, and envied by the survivors as martyrs. As the siege progressed, another and more fearful foe appeared in their very midst, against which the mightiest could not prevail. The dead fought against the living; for the accumulated corpses of the slain, few of whom they were able to bury, brought a pestilence upon the town. Still the heroic defenders fought on unflinching, and fell down rotting at their guns. Then arose a cry for bread, for pale-eyed famine hovered over the city. All the domestic animals--the faithful friends and slaves of man--had been pitilessly slaughtered and their flesh eagerly devoured. Even the rats of the river had served as nutriment to the garrison, and the dead themselves at length supplied Gerona with a ghastly but imperative food. Still amidst blood and slaughter, amongst the wildest horrors of plague, famine, and war, Gerona held out against the foe, until, after seven months and five days of iron determination and indomitable courage, it fell exhausted, crushed, and prostrate into the hands of the enemy. Fifteen thousand men had perished on the side of the French, and nine thousand on that of the Spaniards. Thus ended the last siege of Gerona; and as long as true patriotism and unflinching courage excite our warmest sympathy, the names of Saragossa and Gerona should be watch-words to all true lovers of their country. We went to the theatre at Gerona, which we found to be a large, painted apartment, reeking with the odour of tobacco. The drama of the evening was rather complicated in structure, and must have been harrowing in incident, judging by the effect it had on the spectators. The plot was so absurdly incredible as scarcely to deserve mention. The hero was discovered by his father to have married his step-mother. The unfortunate gentleman, whose wife had married his son, perambulated the stage in apparent distraction, every now and then stopping at the wing to have his tears renewed by a wet sponge. The dialogue must have been magnificent, to judge by the number of ahs! and ohs! to which the audience gave vent. As far as the actors were concerned, it was perfectly unnecessary, as the prompter did it all for them, in a very audible manner. Indeed, at times, so distinct, clear, and forcible was his reading of the play, that the leading tragedian was not only perfectly inaudible, but became utterly speechless, contenting himself with "sawing the air," and doing a little dumb-show, ever and anon taking a few measured paces. The prompter himself, at any passage requiring extra force, jumped up in his little shed in front of the footlights and waved his arms aloft like railway signals, and then as suddenly disappeared.