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sweeter to me than the name of every other country in Italy, is the name of Piedmont, the land of my fathers !

I was still not free. The brigadier, on leaving me, handed me over to the Piedmontese carabineers. After a short delay, a gentleman appeared, who begged me to permit him to accompany me to Novara. He had missed another opportunity, and now there was no carriage but mine; he was much obliged that I allowed him to take advantage of it.

This disguised carabineer was of a jovial turn, and kept me good company as far as Novara. When we arrived at that town, pretending to conduct me to a hotel, he directed the carriage to the barracks of the carabineers, and there I was told there was a bed for me in the apartment of a brigadier, where I was to wait for higher orders.

Expecting to resume my journey on the following day, I went to bed, and, after conversing a moment with my host, I sunk into a profound sleep. I had not slept so well for a long time. I awoke toward morning, immediately arose, and got through some very long hours. I breakfasted, chatted, walked about the room and on the terrace, and cast a look on my host's books. At last a letter arrived from my father. .

0, what joy to see again those much-loved

characters! What joy to learn that my mother, my dearest mother, still lived—that my two brothers and my eldest sister were also still alive! Alas! the youngest, the Marietta, who had entered the convent of the Visitation, as I had clandestinely learned in prison, had ceased to breathe nine months ago. It is sweet to think that I'owe my liberty to those who loved me, who never ceased to intercede for me.

Days passed, and permission to leave Novara did not come. On the morning of the 16th September this permission was at last given me, and then I was freed from the tutelage of the carabineers. O, how many years it was since I had been able to go where I pleased, without the incumbrance of guards !

I obtained some money, received the greetings of a few persons, acquaintances of my father, and about three in the afternoon I departed. I had as companions on the journey a lady, a merchant, a sculptor, and two young painters, one of whom was deaf and dumb. We passed the night at Vercelli. The fortunate sun of the 17th September arose.

We continued our journey, and did not reach Turin till the evening.

Who, who could describe the emotion of my heart, of the hearts of those so endeared to me, when I beheld, when I embraced my father, my mother, my brothers! My sister, my dear Jo

sephine, was not present, as her duties detained her at Chieri; but at the first news of my return, she hastened home to pass a few days in the bosom of the family. Restored to these five objects of my tenderest affection, I was, I am, the most enviable of mortals.

CONCLUSION.

After his restoration to his native country, Silvio Pellico remained in tranquillity and retirement, surrounded by his family, the recollection of which forms so frequent a source of inspiration to him in the memoir of his imprisonment. His reappearance in the field of literature, in which he early gained so brilliant a renown, was, in a great measure, prevented by the captious censorship which weighs upon the Italian press, and must ever be a serious impediment to the effusions of genius. One of the works he composed beneath the Leads of Venice, “Ester d'Engaddi,” which was considered, even by the commission appointed by the Emperor of Austria to conduct the process against him, as unobjectionable, was acted at Turin in 1831, the year after his liberation, with the highest ap. plause, as well as another piece entitled “Trismonda.” Both were immediately interdicter by the jealousy of Italian despotism.

The Count Arrivabene, who is mentionei by

Silvio Pellico as having been discharged from the prison of Saint Michael as innocent, found himself, shortly after, exposed to the suspicions of the government, and judged it expedient to fly. His only crime was having received Porro, Pellico, and some others at his country-house, near Mantua, as they returned from a trip in Porro's steamboat from Pavia to Venice. He fled from Mantua to Brescia, where he imparted his and their danger to his friends Ugoni and Scalvini, who joined him in his endeavor to escape into Switzerland. Gendarmes had been dispatched on all the routes to arrest Arrivabene as soon as his departure was known. He and his friends effected their retreat into Switzerland, disguised as cattle-drovers, but were very nearly caught. They had to pass an inn in which three gendarmes, lying in wait for them, were asleep; and at the moment they reached the Swiss frontier, they were so exhausted, from having had no interval of repose for sixty hours, that they fell upon the ground in the presence of the Austrian soldiers, who were close upon their heels when they crossed the line which separated tyranny from freedom. They were, however, safe. Count Porro also effected his escape from Italy. The gendarmes entered his house at one door as he left it by another. Confalonieri was prevented from executing the same maneuver

by finding a door locked, the key of which had been altered by his intendant without his knowledge.

The events here narrated took place during the reign of Francis I, Emperor of Austria. They are a fair illustration of the illiberality and cruelty of despotism.

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