lived to see another sun set. No action of any conqueror or hero on record is to be compared with this closing scene of the life of Quesada; for who, by his single desperate courage and impetuosity, ever before stopped a revolution in full course? Quesada did: he stopped the revolution at Madrid for one entire day, and brought back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge city to perfect order and quiet. His burst into the Puerta del Sol was the most tremendous and succesful piece of daring ever witnessed. I admired so much the spirit. of the "brute bull," that I frequently, during his wild onset, shouted "Viva Quesada!" for I wished him well, Not that I am of any political party or system. No, no! I have lived too long with Rommany Chals and Petulengres to be of any politics save gipsy politics: and it is well known that, during elections, the children of Roma side with both parties so long is the event is doubtful, promising success to each; and then, when the fight is done, and the battle wen, invariably range themselves in the ranks of the victorious. But I repeat that I wished well te Quesada, witnessing, as I did, his stout heart and good horsemanship. Tranquillity was restored to Madrid throughout the remainder of the day; the handful of infantry bivouacked in the Puerta del Sol. No more cries of "Long live the Constitution" were heard; and the revolution in the capital seemed to have been effectually put down. It is probable, indeed, that, had the chiefs of the moderado party but continued true to themselves for forty eight hours longer, their cause would have triumphed, and the revolutionary soldiers at the Granja would have been glad to restore the Queen Regent to liberty, and to have come to terms, as it was well known that several regiments who still continued loyal were marching upon Madrid. The moderados, however, were not true to themselves: that very night their hearts failed them, and they fled in various directions-Isturitz and Galiano to France, and the Duke of Rivas to Gibraltar: the panic of his colleagues even infected Quesada, who, disguised as a civilian, took to fight. He was not, however, so succesful as the rest, but was recognised at a village about three leagues from Madrid, and cast into the prison by some friends of the constitution. Intelligence of his capture was instantly transmitted to the capital, and a vast mob of the nationals, some on horseback, and others in cabriolets, instantly set out. "The nationals are coming," said a paisano to Quesada. "Then," said he, "I am lost;" and forthwith prepared himself for death.'

The catastrophe is indicated with the skill of a real ballad-poet:

'There is a celebrated coffeehouse in the Calle d'Alcala capable of holding several hundred individuals. On the evening of the day in question I was seated there, sipping a cup of the brown beverage, when I heard a prodigious noise and clamour in the street: it proceeded from the nationals, who were returning from their expedition. In a few minutes I saw a body of them enter the

*This Gipsy word, it seems, is half-Sanscrit, and signifies 'Lords of the Horseshoe.' Mr Borrow adds, 'it is one of the private cognominations of "The Smiths," an Eaglish gipsy clan.' Their school of politics is an extensive one.

coffee-house marching arm in arm, two by two, stamping on the ground with their feet in a kind of measure, and repeating in loud chorus as they walked round the spacious apartment, the following grisly stanza :

"Que es lo que abaja por aquel cerro? Ta ra ra. Son los huesos de Quesada, que los trae un perro -Ta ra ra."

[What comes a-clattering down the street? 'Tis the bones of Quesada.-Dog's meat! dog's meat!]

'A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a table, around which gathered the national soldiers. There was silence for a moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out "El panuelo!" A blue kerchief was forthwith produced: it was untied, and a gory hand and three or four dissevered fingers made their appearance; and with these the contents of the bowl were stirred up. Cups; cups!" cried the nationals. "Ho, ho, Don Jorge!" cried Baltasarito, "pray do me the favour to drink upon this glorious occasion."'-p. 301.

So much for Madrid and its Patriots in February, 1836. We perceive that we have filled our allotted space, and must therefore conclude abruptly with a page from Mr Borrow's account of his first visit to Seville. It appears that the world contains one character more who has wandered as oddly as himself.

'I had returned from a walk in the country, on a glorious sunshiny morning of the Andalusian winter, and was directing my steps towards my lodging; as I was passing by the portal of a large gloomy house near the gate of Xeres, two individuals dressed in zamarras emerged from the archway, and were about to cross my path, when one, looking in my face, suddenly started back, exclaiming, in the purest and most melodious French-"What do I see? If my eyes do not deceive me-it is himself. Yes, the very same as I saw him first at Bayonne; then long subsequently beneath the brick wall at Novogorod; then beside the Bosphorus; and last at-at-oh, my respectable and cherished friend, where was it that I had last the felicity of seeing your well-remembered and most remarkable physiognomy?"

'Myself. It was in the south of Ireland, if I mistake not. Was it not there that I introduced you to the sorcerer who tamed the savage horses by a single whisper into their ear? But tell me what brings you to Spain and Andalusia, the last place where I should have expected to find you?

'Baron Taylor.--And wherefore, my most respectable B*****? Is not Spain the land of the arts, and is not Andalusia of all Spain that portion which has produced the noblest monuments of artistic excellence and inspiration? Come with me and I will show you a Murillo, such as.... .... But first allow me to introduce you to your compatriot. My dear Monsieur W., turning to his companion (an English gentleman, from whom I subsequently experienced unbounded kindness at Seville), allow me to introduce to you my most cherished and respectable friend, one whe is better acquainted with gipsy ways than the Chef des Bohemiens à Triana, one who is an expert whisperer and horsesorcerer, and who, to his honour I say it, can wield hammer and tongs, and handle a horse-shoe, with the best of the smiths amongst the Alpujarras.'

sequently, when Cenus charged through his right wing, and attacked his centre in flank and rear, the Indians, kept back by the elephants in front, and pressed hard by Cenus in the rear, became a helpless mass of confusion. Porus tried to remedy this disaster by ordering his elephants to charge the phalanx which formed the Macedonian centre; but the Greeks having room to manoeuvre, attacked each elephant with a separate detachment of light troops, Alexander having selected picked men, armed with sharp axes and crooked swords for the purpose, who were taught to aim at the trunks and throats of the elephants. The animals were finally driven back, and thus any new formation of the Indian lines was effectually prevented. In this instance, then, it may be said that these cumbrous animals caused the defeat of the Indian army, by rendering its lines immoveable, after they had been once formed.

Elephants being used as a covering force, were usually stationed in front of the lines, the intervals between them being occupied by divisions of light troops who had to prevent the enemy from turning the elephants back upon their own ranks. Some leaders were so much afraid of the elephants being turned, that they kept these animals in reserve, and only brought them up to turn the doubtful scale of victory. It was thus that Pyrrhus won the battle of Heraclea. The Roman cavalry were cutting lanes through his columns when he brought up the elephants; the Latin horses were more frightened than their riders at the unusual sight, the squadrons fell back on the legions, and threw them into disorder, Pyrrhus seized the decisive moment to charge at the head of his Thessalian cavalry, "and the red field was won."

A curious circumstance corroborates the assertion of Florus, that elephants were previously unknown to the Romans; they called the animals "Lucanian oxen,' the battle having been fought in Lucania, and this was the name usually given to the elephant by Latin writers, down to the Augustan age. The battle of Asculum was remarkable for two circumstances, which have been omitted by nearly all the modern writers of Roman history: the legionaries had so far recovered from their fear of elephants, that a centurion, named Minucius, attacked one of these beasts single-handed, and cut off a large portion of his trunk. The second incident is, that the Romans borrowed war-chariots from the Gauls as a counterpoise to the elephants of Pyrrhus, but never used them except in this battle.

Minucius was not the only hero who ventured singly against an elephant; a more noble instance of devoted heroism is recorded in the history of the Maccabees, at the battle of Bethzacharias-"Eleazar, surnamed Savaran, perceiving that one of the beasts, armed with royal harness, was higher than the rest, and supposing that the king was upon him, put himself in jeopardy, to the end he might deliver his people, and get perpetual name; wherefore he ran upon him courageously through the midst of the battle, slaying on the right hand and on the left, so that they were divided from him on both sides, which done he crept under the elephant, and

him a

thrust him under, and slew him, whereupon the elephant fell down upon him, and there he died.“ I. Macc. vi. 43-46. On this narrative it may be remarked, that the words rendered "royal harness," properly signify "a royal houdah;" and that the thirty-two men said, in a preceding verse, to be united with the mahout in the charge of each elephant, include not only the warriors in the tower, but also the soldiers who had the charge of protecting the unwieldy animals from the skirmishers and light troops of the enemy. Pyrrhus was indebted to his elephants for his victory at Heraclea, but these same animals caused his utter ruin in the battle of Beneventum. Curius Dentatus had trained a body of archers to shower burning arrows on these animals, which sticking in their flesh, burned through their thick skins, and drove them mad with pain. No animal is more ferociously destructive than an infuriate elephant; even in the domesticated state they are known to be gratified with carnage and hence they have been frequently employed as executioners by the despots of the East. One of the Epirote elephants, furious from pain, shook off his driver, and rushing back thhroug the phalanx, which Pyrrhus had formed with closer ranks than usual, crushed and destroyed a great number of soldiers before any remedy could be found for such a disaster. On a previous occasion the delight of the elephant in carnage had been fearfully demonstrated; before the body of Alexander was laid in the tomb, three hundred of his bravest companions were crushed to death by elephants, in the presence of the entire army, by command of the regent Perdiccas. Arrian says, that this sickening massacre was rendered the more revolting by the trumpeting, roaring, and other signs of savage delight which the animals exhibited while engaged in the work of slaughter.

The military value of elephants was best tested in the second Punic war. Hannibal attached more importance to these animals than any cotemporary general, and he certainly made a more skilful use of them than any great captain of antiquity. At the battle near the river Trebia, Hannibal charged and routed the Roman cavalry with his elephants; but the infantry stood firm against these animals, and even drove them back on the Carthagenian lines. We are told that the legionaries were encouraged to this resistance by the example of Fibrenus. The incident is well told by Silius Italicus; and as this most prosaic of historical poets in rarely read by English students, we shall venture to translate the passage.

"Fresh horrors now are added to the fight,
The fearful elephants appear in sight;
They gain the bank, they rush into the stream,
High o'er the wave their spear-fenc'd turrets gleam;
The Trebia trembles at the sudden shock,
As if nvaded by some monstrous rock,
Which, torn by tempest from some mountain's head,
Chok'd up the stream, and drove it from its bed.

But valour rises under adverse fate,
And dangers still excite the truly great:

Fibrenus, only anxious that his name

Should live recorded in the rolls of fame,

Shouts, "Thank thee, fortune!-underneath the wave,

Thou didst not give me an unhonour'd grave;

My deeds are seen, and here on land I try
What force the Roman falchion can defy.
Or what the monster is that must not fear
The Latin javelin and Tuscan spear.'
He spoke, and eager sought some tender part,
Then at the monster hurl'd his rapid dart;
Right to the eye the weapon held its way,
Tore through the ball, and quench'd the visual ray;
The horrid beast sent forth a fearful roar,
Which echoed wildly round the bloodstain'd shore,
Then, blind with rage, and madden'd by the pain,
He threw his driver helpless on the plain,
And fled amain. The Romans at the sight,
Receive fresh courage, and renew the fight;
They press the monster with incessant blows,
From gaping wounds his blood in torrents flows;
Arrows and darts are quivering in his hide,
Till one wide gash extends along his side;
A bristling forest on his back appears,
Of waving javelins and of deep-driv'n spears;
Worn out at last, the dreadful monster reels,
And seeks the river as his death he feels:
He falls the mighty ruin chokes the flood,
And the clear stream runs crimson with his blood."
Punica, iv.

According to Polybius, whose authority is incidentally confirmed by Juvenal, Hannibal lost all his elephants but one in this battle, and did not receive a fresh supply until after his victory at Cannæ. Hanno joined him at Capua with forty elephants and four thousand Numidian cavalry, but this reinforcement did not enable Hannibal to pursue his career of conquest. He was defeated at Nola by Marcellus, with a loss of four elephants killed, and two taken; he met a similar foss at Grumentum; two of his elephants were killed in the unsuccessful attempt to relieve Capua, and five more were slain at the battle of Camisium. At the battle of the Metaurus the elephants were repulsed by the pikemen of the eleventh legion, four being slain on the spot, and the rest driven back on the Carthagenian lines.

But the most remarkable example which can be cited of the use of elephants during this period was presented at the battle of Zama, where Hannibal covered his line with no less than eighty of these animals. Scipio immediately changed the usual order of Roman lines; he left wide spaces like lanes between the manipuli of the legions, masking this arrangement by throwing forward a cloud of skirmishers and light troops, principally Numidian cavalry furnished to them by Massinissa. Hannibal, annoyed by the skirmishers, ordered his elephants to charge the Roman lines in a body, and the skirmishers retreated through the lanes or passages (via) left open by the formation of the legionaries. The elephants pursued, and the moment one of those animals was engaged in one of the passages his doom was sealed; on either side were the pikemen, whose serried weapons could not be beaten

down, whilst the light troops attacked the animals with spears, javelins, crooked swords (serpa) and battle-axes. The chief danger arose from the cavalry; the Italian horses could not be got to face the elephants. Scipio, however, promptly set the example of dismounting, and after a fierce struggle the elephants were all hors de combat. Eleven of these animals were taken alive by the Romans, all the rest fell in the action.

This battle taught the Romans the advantage of an open formation of the lines in a contest with elephants, and in some degree proved the inutility of these animals when sent against disciplined troops. Thenceforward the use of these animals in war declined, and they are mentioned a for the last time in the military history of Rome at the battle of Thapsus, where Julius Cæsar # overthrew the last army of the republic and its African auxiliaries. All the accounts of this battle which we possess are so imperfect, that it is not easy to determine how Juba employed his elephants; but that the victory over them was deemed very important is manifest from the frequent appearance of the elephant on the coins and medals of the Julian family.

The neglect of elephants in the western world after the battle of Thapsus became an established principle; both Livy and Arrian speak of them as utterly contemptible for the purposes of war but in the east the use of them was revived by the princes of the house of Sassan, and they were employed in the wars of India so late as 1779; Hyder Ali having sent his elephants to charge the disordered lines of the unfortunate Baillie. In the eastern wars, not less than in those of the west, elephants have proved an uncertain and dangerous support; thus when the Portuguese were attacked at Colombo in 1520, the elephants sent against them by the Cingalese, daunted by the fire of the harquebusses and maddened by wounds, turned back upon their own lines, and crushed to death whole troops of unfortunate islanders. Some of the emperors of Delhi mounted light guns on the backs of elephants, but the slow movements of the animals prevented this kind of artillery from being gene rally adopted. In our day, elephants are chiefly used for the transport of ordnance and heavy stores and many are of opinion that even for this purpose they are inferior in value to horses. It would lead us too far from our subject to enter into any discussion respecting the exhibition of elephants in the amphitheatre and circus; but we may at some future opportunity examine the accounts of these shows, as illustrating the progress of inland discovery under the Roman emperors.

*Nam sicut pleraque commenta mortalium sine ullo effectu evanescunt, ita tam elephanti in acie nomen tantum sine usu fuerunt.—Tit. Liv. xxiv. 41.

ONE bright day, last June, one of the London coaches rattled at an amazing rate down the main street of a garrison town, and, with a sudden jerk which threw the smoking horses on their haunches, pulled up at the door of the Waterloo hotel. A beautiful sight it is a fine, well appointed coach, of what we must now call the ancient fashion, with its smart driver, brilliant harness, and thoroughbred team. Then it is a spectacle pleasing to gods and men, te knowing and instantaneous manner in which the grooms perform their work in leading off the horses, and putting fresh ones to the rapid diving for carpet-bags and portmanteaus into the various boots and luggage holes-the stepping down or out (as the case may be) of the passengers-the tip to the coachman-the touch of the hat in return-the remounting of that functionary into his chair of honour-the chick, chick! with which he hints to the pawing greys he is ready for a start-and, finally, the roll off into dim distance of the splendid vehicle, watched by the crowd that have gathered round it, till it is lost from their sight. A steam-coach, with its disgusting, hissing, sputtering, shapeless, lifeless engine, ought to be ashamed of itself, and would probably blush for its appearance, if it were not for the quantity of brass that goes to its composition. On the above-mentioned bright day in June, only two passengers got out from the inside of the Celerity. The outsides, who were apparently pushed for time, urged them to make haste; and the lady, the first who stept on the pavement, took their admonitions in good part. With only a small basket on her arm, and a dark veil drawn close down over her face, she dropt half-a-crown into the hand of the expectant coachman, and walked rapidly up the street. The gentleman, however, put off a good deal of time in identifying his carpet-bag-then his pocket seemed to be indefinitely deep, as his hand appeared to have immense difficulty in getting to the bottom of it. At last he succeeded in catching hold of some coin, and, while he dropt it into the extended palm of the impatient Jehu, he said, Hem! I say, coachie, who is that lady? Eh! fine eyes-hem!"

Can't say, thank ye, sir.' "Then you can't tell me any thing about her? Prettiest critter I ever saw in my life. As to Mrs Moss"

sir-no name in the way-bill

But before the inquisitive gentleman, who stood all this time with the carpet-bag in his

VOL. 1.

hand, had an opportunity of making any further revelation as to Mrs Moss, or any more enquiries as to his unknown travelling companion, the coachman had mounted the box, and, after asserting in a very complacent tone that it was all right, had driven off, and left him in the same state of ignorance as before.

"Sleep here, sir?-Dinner, sir?-This way to the coffee-room," said a smart young man, with long hair and a blue coat, with a napkin over his arm.

"Oh! you're the waiter, I suppose. Now, waiter, I want to find out something, and I dare say you can help me"

This way, sir. You can have a mutton-chop in twenty minutes."

"No-listen to me-I'm going to ask you some questions. Did you see the lady that got out of the coach when I did? She's a beautiful critter; such black eyes!--such a sweet voice!—such a small hand! We travelled together, the whole way from town. She spoke very little, and kept her name a secret. I couldn't find out what she came here for. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir-perfectly," said the waiter, at the same time evidently understanding nothing about it.

"Well, you see, I don't know what you think of it down here; but, for my part, I think ladies at forty-five are past their prime. Now, my next neighbour in London-Mrs Moss is her name-she's exactly that age. You hear what I am saying, waiter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I don't think this young lady, from her eyes and mouth, can be more than twentythree-a charming age, waiter-hem! You never saw her before, did you?"

"No, sir-never.'

"Well, its very astonishing what a beautiful girl she is. I am retired from the lace and ribbon business, waiter, but I think she's the sweetest specimen of the fair sex I ever saw. And you don't know who she is, do you?"

"No, sir. You'll sleep here, sir, I think you said? shammaid !"

"No-I haven't said so yet," said the stranger, rather sharply.

"Oh!" said the waiter, who had not attended to a syllable the gentleman had spoken-and retired under the archway into the hotel.

"The only way to get information," mused the gentleman with the carpet-bag, still standing on the pavement, "is to have your eyes about you and ask questions. It's what I always do since I have begun to travel for improve

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