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at the pale features under the give him up to Gouache and his cowl.
Zouaves. The tones of Ugo's voice “ If you go on you are lost,” he reminded him of injuries not so said, in low distinct tones. “ The old as to be yet forgotten. But Zouaves are waiting for you. Stop, he smothered his wrath and strode I say !" he exclaimed, as the monk, on, having promised his wife to attempted to pass on. Leaping save the wretch much against his to the ground Giovanni seized his will. It was a quarter of an hour arm and held him tightly. Then before they reached the works, the Del Ferice broke down.
longest quarter of an hour Del • You will not give me up—for Ferice remembered in his whole the love of Christ !” he whined. life. Neither spoke a word. Gio“Oh, if you have any pity-let vanni hailed a sturdy-looking felme go—I never meant to harm low who was breaking stones by you
the roadside. “ Look here,” said Gi anni. “Get up, Carluccio," he said. "I would just as soon give you “ This good monk has lost his way. up to the Holy Office as not; but, You must take him round the my wife asked me to save you- mountain, above Ponza to Arcin
“God bless her! Oh, the saints azzo, and show hin the road to bless her! God render her kind- Trevi. It is a long way, but the ness !” blubbered Del Ferice, who, road is good enough after Ponza; between fear and exhaustion, was it is shorter than to go round by by this time half idiotic.
Sarracinesca, and the good friar is “Silence !” said Giovanni, stern- in a hurry.' ly. “ You may thank her if you Carluccio started up with alacever have a chance. Come with rity. He greatly preferred roamme, quietly. I will send one of ing about the hills to breaking the workmen round the hill with stones, provided he was paid for you. You must sleep at Trevi, and it. He picked up his torn jacket then get over the Serra as best you and threw it over one shoulder, can.' He ran his arm through the setting his battered hat jauntily bridle of his horse and walked by on his thick black curls. his enemy's side.
“Give us a benediction, padre “You will not give me up,” mio, and let us be off—non è mica moaned the wretched man. “For un passo—it is a good walk to the love of heaven do not betray Trevi." me-I have come so far-I am so Del Ferice hesitated. He hardly tired!”
knew what to do or say, and even " The wolves may make a meal if he had wished to speak he was of you for all I care," returned scarcely able to control his voice. Giovanni. "I will not. I give Giovanni cut the situation short by you my word that I will send you turning on his heel and mounting safely on, if you will stop this his horse. A moment later he was whining and behave like a man." cantering up the road again, to the
At that moment Del Ferice was considerable astonishment of the past taking offence, but for many labourers, who were accustomed to a year afterwards the rough words see him spend at least half an hour rankled in his heart. Giovanni in examining the work done. But was brutal for once; he longed Giovanni was in no humour to to wring the fellow's neck, or to talk about roads. He had spent a
horrible quarter of an hour, be- Corona herself seemed staangely tween his desire to see Del Ferice agitated. punished and the promise he had “ Yes," answered Gouache, with given his wife to save him. He his gentle smile; "the mountain felt so little sure of himself that air is still cold." he never once looked back, lest he So the three rode silently back should be tempted to send a second to the castle, and at the gate man to stop the fugitive and de- Gouache dismounted and left liver him up to justice. He ground them, politely declining a rather his teeth together, and his heart cold invitation to come in. Giowas full of bitter curses as he rode vanni and Corona went silently up up the hill, hardly daring to reflect the staircase together, and on into upon what he had done. That, in a small apartment which in that the eyes of the law, he had wit- cold season they had set apart as tingly helped a traitor to escape a sitting-room. When they were troubled his conscience little. His alone Corona laid her hands upon instinct bade him destroy Del Ferice Giovanni's shoulders and gazed by giving him up, and he would long into his angry eyes. Then have saved himself a vast deal she threw her arms round his neck of trouble if he had followed his and drew him to her. impulse. But the impulse really “My beloved," she cried, proudarose from a deep-rooted desire for ly, “ you are all I thought-and revenge, which, having resisted, he more too." regretted bitterly-very much as “Do not say that," answered Shakespeare's murderer complained Giovanni. "I would not have to his companion that the devil lifted a finger to save that hound, was at his elbow bidding him not but for you. murder the duke. Giovanni spared “Ah, but you did it, dear, all his enemy solely to please his wife, the same," she said, and kissed and half-a-dozen words from her him. had produced a result which no On the following evening, withconsideration of mercy or pity out any warning, old Sarracinesca could have brought about.
arrived, and was warmly greeted. Corona and Gouache had halted After dinner Giovanni told him at the top of the road to wait for the story of Del Ferice's escape. him. By an imperceptible nod Thereupon the old gentleman few Giovanni' informed his wife that into a towering rage, swearing and Del Ferice was safe.
cursing in a most characteristic “I am sorry to have cut short manner, but finally declaring that our ride,” he said, coldly. “My to arrest spies was the work of wife found it chilly in the valley." spies, and that Giovanni had be
Anastase looked curiously at haved like a gentleman, as of Giovanni's pale face, and wonder- course he could not help doing, ed whether anything was wrong. seeing that he was his own son.
And so the curtain falls upon the first act. Giovanni and Corona are happily married. Del Ferice is safe across the frontier among his friends in Naples, and Donna Tullia is waiting still for news of him, in the last days of Lent, in the year 1866. To carry on the tale from this point would be to enter upon a new series of events more interesting, perhaps than those herein detailed, and of like importance in the history of the Sarracinesca family, but forming by their very nature a distinct narrative—a second act to the drama, if it may be so called. I am content is in the foregoing pages I have so far acquainted the reader with those characters which hereafter will play more important parts, as to enable him to comprehend the story of their subsequent lives, and in some measure to judge of their future by their past, regarding them as acquaintances, if not sympathetic, yet worthy of some attention.
Especially I ask for indulgence in matters political. I am not writing the history of political events, but the history of a Roman family during times of great uncertainty and agitation. If any one says that I have set up Del Ferice as a type of the Italian Liberal party, carefully constructing a villain in order to batter him to pieces with the artillery of poetic justice, I answer that I have done nothing of the kind. Del Ferice is indeed a type, but a type of a depraved class which very unjustly represented the Liberal party in Rome before 1870, and which, among those who witnessed its proceedings, drew upon the great political body which demanded the unity of Italy an opprobrium that body was very far from deserving. The honest and upright Liberals were waiting in 1866. What they did, they did from their own country, and they did it boldly. To no man of intelligence need I say that Del Ferice had no more affinity with Massimo D'Azeglio, with the great Cavour, with Cavour's great enemy Giuseppe Mazzini, or with Garibaldi, than the jackal has with the lion. Del Ferice represented the scum which remained after the revolution of 1848 had subsided. He was one of those men who were used and despised by their betters, and in using whom Cavour himself was provoked into writing “Se noi facessimo per noi quel che faciamo per l'Italia, saremmo gran bricconi”-if we did for ourselves what we do for Italy, we should be great blackguards. And that there were honourable and just men outside of Rome will sufficiently appear in the sequel to this veracious tale.
F. MARION CRAWFORD. FREE TRADE AND DEPRESSED TRADE.
The belief that the fiscal policy, rent in the fact that during the last begun in 1846 and carried to com- fifty years 800 millions have been pletion in 1874, of admitting free invested in constructing railways of duty such imports as come into in this country alone. competition with British products, 2. The enormous increase in the and heavily taxing those which do use of machinery, in the producnot, has hitherto enabled us to tion of which we were unrivalled. maintain our commercial supre- 3. The great increase in the macy, has been received, even number and size of steamers, which among the educated classes of this are estimated to have five times country, as an article of unques. the carrying power of sailingtioned faith; for which they have vessels. no better reason to give than that, 4. The discovery of gold in because prosperity followed the California and Australia, which, adoption of that system, that sys- between 1850 and 1880, added tem must have caused it. A care- 528 millions sterling to the wealth ful study, however, of the sta- of the world, and was the main tistical abstracts” of the Board cause of the advance in prices. of Trade from 1840 downwards, With such powerful agencies at shows that, so far from the repeal work to stimulate trade in Europe of the Corn Laws being entitled to and America, it was inevitable rank with the great factors which that we, the great producers of the after 1850 led to such a vast ex- world, should mainly benefit. The pansion, not only in the commerce surprise is, not that our import of the United Kingdom, but in and export trade increased that of Europe and the United much, but that, situated States, it had no influence on it were, it did not, proportionally whatever, nor in causing the ad- with other nations, increase much vance in wages and value of land more. Though Europe, between so absurdly ascribed to it. Before 1850 and 1870, was constantly disproceeding to show what that re- turbed by wars and revolutions, peal really amounted to, le us see and America during 1862 to 1864 what these great factors were. in the throes of her great civil
The rapid development of war, by which we greatly profitedthe railway system, in which we for at the end of each great struggle were, save America, greatly ahead there arose a large demand for of other nations. In 1850 there British products—we find that were 6621 miles open in the United while our imports and exports only Kingdom, against, in 1883, 18,668 increased 183 per cent, France, miles; while Continental nations Germany, Russia, Austria, Spain, and the United States, starting and Portugal increased theirs on with but 17,336 miles in 1850, the average 161 per cent, and the had, in 1883, 216,708 miles. The United States 170 per cent.' Havmagnitude of the change is appa- ing tried to realise the vast changes
i Between 1870 and 1884 these nations, excluding Russia and including America, increased 60 per cent on the average; while we, between 1870 and 1886, increased less than 3 per centthe value of our imports and exports in 1870 having been 547 millions, against 561 millions in 1886.
in carrying on trade brought about had no effect on market value, for by the railway taking the place of though it ruled low in 1851 and the stage-coach, and the steamer of 1852, that could not, as we imthe sailing-vessel, in enormously ported 7000 quarters of wheat less quickening and cheapening the in those years than we did in 1849 means of transport, let us see and 1850, have been caused by supwhat the repeal of the Corn Laws plies from abroad. The market really amounted to.
prices of wheat, as given in “ the During the eight years which abstracts," and the contract prices preceded the abolition in 1849, the of the 4-lb. loaf, supplied to the total duties levied on corn, meal, Seamen's Hospital at Greenwich, and flour only averaged £707,651 averaged as follows :per annum. From 1850 to 1869,
4-1b. loat. the registration fee of one shilling, 1841-50,
538. 3d. 64d. charged on each quarter imported,
7d. yielded on the average an annual
6d. revenue of £623,000. In 1869, in order, as the chancellor of the Ex- The prices of the loaf here quoted chequer remarked, “to do away being by contract for large quanwith the last rag of protection,” tities, private consumers would this fee was repealed. Had it doubtless have to pay more. We been retained, we should, on the shall assume, therefore, that from 230 millions of quarters imported 1841-50, when the baker was conbetween 1870 and 1885, have saved tent with less exorbitant profits, 1112 millions sterling of revenue, or the retail price of the loaf averover £700,000 a year. We say aged 77d. To-day it is 6d. If saved, for as we shall later on show, we allow two 4-1b. loaves a-week as these millions wholly went to swell the consumption of a working man, the profits of the foreign importer. we get 135. 3d. he per annum pays Between 1840 and 1849, we im- less now for his bread than he did ported of corn, meal, and flour, in from 1841-50. But what is he payall 41 millions of quarters, from ing for his meat ? If we refer to which we derived a gross revenue the · Farmer's Gazette,' we find the of £6,817,848, about 3s. 4d. per Dublin prices of farm produce in quarter. The repeal seems to have 1850 and 1855 were
1885. Two-year-old cattle,
6 Fat sheep per cwt.,
3 5 Oats per cwt.,
I 12 6
Butter per cwt.,
Eggs per long hundred,
It is difficult to get at the prices take it he did not pay more than now paid for meat by a working 4d. per pound in 1850, the differman, but from all we can learn, we ence shows he pays to-day 46s. more believe it is on the average not for his meat, and 135. 3d. less for under 7d. per pound. If we allow his bread, or net 325. gd., that he him half a pound per day, this comes annually now pays more on these to £5, 8s. in the year ; while if we two items, without taking into