—self-inflicted—changed us into maniacs, so
that we fell upon and struck each other without
knowing whom or why. But we had also yet to
endure a plague, which, though experienced by
us daily, had never seemed so horrible as it was
during that night. The millions of bugs, which
were our most intimate companions, assailed us
as if they wished to revenge on our poor limbs
their wrath at removal from old quarters.

One good had also arisen from this new evil,
namely, that we were all once more reunited and
apart from the common prisoners, whose
company had always added to the misery of our
position. The colonel who had been sent to
inquire Into the cause of our discontent having
done everything he deemed necessary to quiet
the excitement in the Bagnio, in order to make
some show of doing us justice, announced that
he was now ready to receive in writing the
complaints of all those who had any to make against
the commander. But if he was a fox we were
not geese. On the news of the mutiny and
bastinado reaching Naples, a great noise was
made by all the Neapolitans who had relatives,
friends, or acquaintances in the prison. Some
even went so far as to call upon General
Palumbo, who was the General-Inspector of
Bagnios. He was himself responsible for all that
had been done, but he said in reply that Acuti
had bastinadoed the prisoners without
knowledge of the superior authorities. A correspondence
arose from this statement between the
general and Acuti, but the latter, being sustained
by Ferdinand himself, remained victorious.

When, therefore, our master found himself
secure in his position, he revenged himself by
immediately organising a new system of oppression.
First, he caused a barrier to be placed
about three feet within the grating, at which any
of our friends were obliged to stand when they
come to visit us, in order to compel us to speak
in a loud voice, whatever we might have to say.
Two gendarmes being placed beside the
prisoner, and two turnkeys beside his relative,
every word uttered could be reported. The
wife might not embrace her husband nor the
mother her son. It was a sad sight to see
children stretching out their arms to clasp the
necks of their fathers without having the power
of doing so. We were not allowed to write
more than ten words in our letters, and even
then they were frequently torn up. The same
rules were applied to the letters of our families,
or, as a show of kindness, they were sometimes
handed to us after a delay of two months with
the principal parts effaced. Fearing that we
might make ink, Acuti ordered that no colouring
matter should enter the prison. The folds of
our linen were opened, all the bottles sent to us
uncorked, and the flasks broken lest anything
should be concealed in their bottoms. The
bastinado, double chains, and other tortures,
were inflicted on the slightest excuse. Our
wretched effects were upset and searched day
and night, while reasons were found every now
and then for sending one or other of us to
undergo a trial before a court-martial at Naples.

We remained about three years under his
control, and were always treated by him with
the same barbarity, until some monks, who
came to the prison to perform the spiritual
exercises, laboured to make peace between us
and our cruel jailer; and after much trouble
and argument they succeeded in obtaining a
promise from him that he would be less harsh,
on condition that all the political prisoners
should recite the rosary, hear mass, and attend
the sacraments. But what really caused his
change was an article in a Piedmontese journal,
which described him as a monster of iniquity,
On reading this lie became furious, and cursing
Ferdinand for a blind idiot, he made his conduct
that of a man who wished to show that what he
had heretofore done was not according to his
own inclination, but the issue of superior
instructions. Our wounds, however, were too
new to be healed at once. We hated him utterly.
At length, to our inexpressible joy, he was
removed from Procida, and a successor full of pity
and kindness came in his place. A good old man,
named Captain Areta, next took the command,
but he was in turn commanded by his secretary,
who was not good. Our condition was
however, much improved, and had it not been for
the chamber-keeper, who for refusal to give
money threatened the lives of twelve of us, I
might venture to say that we had a little rest.
The captain was again changed for another,
who, though severe, was by no means an Acuti.
The Jesuits had entered into a compact with
Ferdinand, in virtue of which some of the
partition walls of our prison were to be repaired,
and during the time these repairs lasted we were
obliged to breathe dust, to eat dust, to drink
dust, which, like a cloud, environed us, till
many spat blood, and some eventually died of
consumption.

Enough of the monotony of suffering. In
such durance as this I remained until 1859,
when, as a particular favour, I, with some
others, had my sentence commuted into exile
for life. But now that tyranny has reaped its
own harvest now that Garibaldi has thrown
open for ever those horrible political dungeons
in which so many good men have been tortured,
and " II Re Galantuomo" has accomplished the
work which the Hermit of Caprera had so
gloriously begun, Italy is again my country—a
country thankful for its children's love.

MR. CHARLES DICKENS'S READINGS.

THE LAST READING THIS SEASON.
On Thursday Evening, June 19th, at ST. JAMES'S HALL, at
8 o'clock precisely,

Mr. CHARLES DICKENS
Will read, in compliance with many requests, his

CHRISTMAS CAROL,

AND

THE TRIAL FROM PICKWICK.