THE INN AT TERRACINA. CRACK! crack! crack! crack! crack! "Here comes the estafette from Naples," said mine host of the inn at Terracina; "bring out the relay." The estafette came galloping up the road according to custom, brandishing over his head a short-handled whip, with a long, knotted lash, every smack of which made a report like a pistol. He was a tight, square-set young fellow, in the usual uniform: a smart blue coat, ornamented with facings and gold lace, but so short behind as to reach scarcely below his waistband, and cocked up not unlike the tail of a wren; a cocked hat edged with gold lace; a pair of stiff riding-boots; but, instead of the usual leathern breeches, he had a fragment of a pair of drawers, that scarcely furnished an apology for modesty to hide behind. The estafette galloped up to the door, and jumped from his horse. "A glass of rosolio, a fresh horse, and a pair of breeches," said he, "and quickly, per l'amor di Dio, I am behind my time, and must be off!" "San Gennaro!" replied the host; "why, where hast thou left thy garment ?" 66 Among the robbers between this and Fondi." "What, rob an estafette! I never heard of such folly. What could they hope to get from thee?" "My leather breeches !" replied the estafette. "They were bran new, and shone like gold, and hit the fancy of the captain." "Well, these fellows grow worse and worse. To meddle with an estafette! and that merely for the sake of a pair of leather breeches !" The robbing of the government messenger seemed to strike the host with more astonishment than any other enormity that had taken place on the road; and, indeed, it was the first time so wanton an outrage had been committed; the robbers generally taking care not to meddle with any thing belonging to govern ment. The estafette was by this time equipped, for he had not lost an instant in making his preparations while talking. The relay was ready; the rosolio tossed off; he grasped the reins and the stirrup. "Were there many robbers in the band?" said a handsome, dark young man, stepping forward from the door of the inn. "As formidable a band as ever I saw," said the estafette, springing into the saddle. "Are they cruel to travellers ?" said a beautiful young Venetian lady, who had been hanging on the gentleman's arm. "Cruel, signora!" echoed the estafette, giving a glance at the lady as he put spurs to his horse. "Corpo di Bacco! They stiletto all the men; and, as to the womenCrack! crack! crack! crack! crack!-The last words were drowned in the smacking of the whip, and away galloped the estafette along the road to the Pontine marshes. "Holy Virgin!" ejaculated the fair Venetian, "what will become of us!" The inn of which we are speaking stands just outside of the walls of Terracina, under a vast precipitous height of rocks, crowned with the ruins of the castle of Theodric the Goth. The situation of Terracina is remarkable. It is a little, ancient, lazy Italian town, on the frontiers of the Roman territory. There seems to be an idle pause in every thing about the place. The Mediterranean spreads before it-that sea without flux or reflux. The port is without a sail, excepting that once in a while a solitary felucca may be seen disgorging its holy cargo of baccala, or codfish, the meagre provision for the quaresima, or Lent. The inhabitants are apparently a listless, heedless race, as people of soft sunny climates are apt to be; but under this passive, indolent exterior are said to lurk dangerous qualities. They are supposed by many to be little better than the banditti of the neighboring mountains, and indeed to hold a secret correspondence with them. The solitary watchtowers, erected here and there along the coast, speak of pirates and corsairs that hover about these shores; while the low huts, as stations for soldiers, which dot the distant road, as it winds up through an olive grove, intimate that in the ascent there is danger for the traveller, and facility for the bandit. Indeed, it is between this town and Fondi that the road to Naples is most infested by banditti. It has several winding and solitary places, where the robbers are enabled to see the traveller from a distance, from the brows of hills or impending precipices, and to lie in wait for him at lonely and difficult passes. The Italian robbers are a desperate class of men, that have almost formed themselves into an order of society. They wear a kind of uniform, or rather costume, which openly designates their profession. This is probably done to diminish its skulking, lawless character, and to give it something of a military air in eyes of the common people; or, perhaps, to catch by outward the |