Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1845-1854, 1848-07-12


big and as strong as those in Navarro
What could Ireply to such a question!
u Suddenly long shrill whistle was heare
outside the house. "Keep bright look
out!" cried l, to the sentry at the loop-hole
/ Again all was still. Father Jose dropped
off to sleep; the patrona went down stairs te
4 fodder the donkey, and dressed my con
versation to pretty Manuela. l know not
how it was, but we got on so well together
that soon found myself seated close beside
her, one arm round her waist, whilst the
other hand played with silver cross thai
hung from her neck, and on which were en-.
graved the words @Mary, pray for me!'
And she told me of her brother Antonio, who
was away from home, and of her sister Ma
ria, who was with relations at Hostiz, in the
valley of the Bastan.-
sand where is your brother Antonio
Manuela?"
"My beother sin the mountains. You
seem good and kind stranger; you tell me
you are not Frenchman, but German.
Oh! if you meet my brother in fight, do not
kill him-spare him for my sake!"
sBut, dear Manuela, how am to know
your brother? One Carlist is so like anoth-
er."
sNo, no! you are sure to know him: he
resembles me, and he wears upon his breast
silver cross like mine. The same words
are written upon it, and not bullet has
touched him since he wore it.
$50 your brother is soldier of Don Car
los, your sister dwells in Carlist village,
and your parents-at least your father,
udging from his looks when spoke of the
Constitution, hold for the Pretender
Do you not fear Christine troops?"
@No, Senor-at least should not, if they
were all as good as you, who protected me
from that rude Italian.-Dios!" she ex-
claimed, suddenly interrupting herself, and
springing from her chair like a scared deer.
From under the bench on the other side of
the fire peered forth the dark countenance
of Piedmontese soldier, his cheeks flushed
with wine, his eyes sparkling with sullen
fire, his ignoble, satyr-ike features express
ing host of evil passions. He shot a ven
omous glance from under his dirty eyelashes,
then turned himself round grinding between
his teeth an Italian malediction. He still
lay where had violently thrown him, when,
upon our first entrance, l rescued Manuela
from his brutality.
"To bed, grill" screamed the old woman,
who just then re-entered the Kitchen
Manuela went to bed, and I composed my
self te s.eep upon the bench by the fire. 1t
was eleven o'clock, ard the silence in the
village was unbroken save by the bowling
of the storm and the occasional challenge Of
sentry.
IN THE MOUNTAINS.
The road from Pampeluna to France pass
es by m ountain of some size, whose real
name have forgotten, but which our sold
iers called the Hill of Death, because for a
league..round it initiated an odour of unburied
corpses. Close to the road, but at consid-
erable elevation, conical peak, springs from
the hillside.
Around this peak, upon July night, a.
bout six months after the scene at Garcia,
a column of Carlists, awaiting the dawn.
There they are, scattered about the fires,
forlorn figures of unconquerable endurance,
barefoot, in linen trousers and thin cloth
jackets, the scarlet plate shaped cap upon
their heads. Burnt brown by the Castilian
sun, their daring picturesque countenances
assume an additional wildness of aspect in
the red light of the watch-fre. From one
of these, Fernando, a handsome Arragonese
lad, whose father and brothers have been
shot, and whose sister is file de joie at
Saragossa, snatches charcoal with his fin
gers, and places it upon stone to light his
paper cigar. Then comes Hippolito, pale
emaciated boy Of sixteen, and sets upon the
fire small pot of potatoes, which he has
carried with him since morning. The Car
lists caught him in Catalonia and dragged
him along with them, and often does he
swear<a peevish oath that his death will be
in the hospital Besides him lies Cyrillo, "a
desperate scapegrace from Estremadura, in
tended for the university, but whom restless
ness and evil courses have brought under
the banners. He has a piece of bacon on
his bayonet, and toasts it at the flames.
Hard by, brace of Andalusians have got
a guitar, and strike up melody SO plain
tive and yet SO strangely spirit stirring, that
bearded dragon, slumbering upon his
back, with his hands beneath his head, sud.
denly opens his great wild eyes. One of his
comrades stands near him, his arms folded
on his breast gazing down wisfully into the
valley of the Arga, now yelled by the mist.
of evening, and which he perhaps for many
long day has not dared to visit-as if the
tones of the guitar brought melancholy te
his mind. Suddenly the measure is chang
ed, and the musician breaks into the lively
fandango; joyous Navarrese seizes thu
pensive trooper by the arm and whirls him
round, but receives in return push thai
sends him staggering against the guitar.
player, whilst he srasps at his girdle for the
ready knife. An obscene curse burst from
half-a-dozen throats; with fierce looks tht
two men confront each other, but are sepe
rated by force, and again the guitar tinkles
in the nj ight air, whilst Hippolito gathers VI
his potatoes, upset and scattered in the scuf
fe. A dirty priest comes up, decoration
upon his black coat, and enjoins order and
peace. He has scarcely walked away,wher
soldier in hondsome uniform rushes up tt
the fire, and throws himself down, breath
1 ing and half fainting. He is deserte
I from the Christine regimeat of Cordova.-
| They give him UNLIMITED wine, and he tell