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“Marsh, Stracy, Fauntleroy and Gra
ham had stopped payment.
“The circular had not been issued
more thhn halt an houi, continued m\
clerk, “I have just conic from the bank,
sir. Tiic doors arc shut ; there is no
doubt about it. Marsh A Cos. have stop
ped this morning. 7
I hardly heard him; I hardly knew who
was talking to me. My strange visitor
of the Saturday betore had taken instajit
possession of all rny thoughts, and his
words ol warning seemed to be sounding
once more in my cars, This man had
known the true condition of the bank
when not another soul outside the doors
was aware of it ! The last draft paid
o across the counter of that ruined house,
when the doors closed on Saturday, was
the draft that I had so bitterly reproach
ed in)self for drawing ; the one balance
saved* from the wreck was my balance.—
Where had the stranger got the informa
tion that had saved me 9 and why had
he brought it to my ears ?
I was still groping like a man in the
dark, for an answer to these two ques
tions— I was still bewildered by the un
fathomable mystery of doubt into which
they had plunged me—when the discovc
ry of the stopping of the bank was follow
ed almost immediately by a second shock,
far more dreadful, far heavier to bear,
so far as I was concerned, than the first.
While I and my clerks were discussing
the failure of the firm, two mercantile
men, who were friends of mine, ran into
the office, and overwhelmed us with the
news that one of the partners had been
arrested for forgery. Never shall I for
get the terrible Monday morning when
those tidings reached me,and when I knew
that the partner was Mr. Fauntleroy.
I was true to him—l can honestly say
I was true to my belief in my generous
friend —when that fearful news reached
me. My fellow merchant had got all the
particulars of the arrest. They told me
that two of Mr. Fauntleroy’s fellow trus
tees had come up to London to make
arrangements about selling out some
stock. On inquiring for Mr. Fauntleroy
at the baukiag house, they had been in
formed that he was not there ; and, after
leaving a message for him, they had
gone into the city to make an appointment
with their stock broker for a future day,
when their fellow trustee might be able
to attend. The stock broker volunteer
ed to make certain business inquiries on
the spot, with a view to saving as much
time as possible, and left them at his of
fice to await his return. He came back,
looking very much amazed, with the in
formation that the stock had been sold
out down to the last five hundred pounds.
The affair was instantly investigated ;
the document authorizing the selling out
was produced; and the two trustees saw
on it, side by side with Mr. Fauntleroy’s
signature their own names forged. This
happened on Friday, and the trustees,
without losing a moment, sent the officers
of justice in pursuit of Mr. Fauntleroy.
He was arrested, brought up before the
magistrate, and remanded on the Satur
day. On the Monday I heard from my
friends the particulars whidV I have jus\
narrated.
Lut the events of that one morning
were-not dcstiued to end even yet. 1
had discovered the failure of the bank
aud the arrest ot Mr. Fauntleroy. I was
next to be cniighteued, in the strangest
a ;;d the saddest manner, on the difficult
question 01 his innocence or guilt. Be
lore my friends had left my office—before
I had exhausted the arguments which
my gratitude rather than my reason sug
gested to me in favor of the prisoner, a
note, marked “Immediate,” was placed in
my hands, which silenced me the instant
1 looked at it. It was written from the
prison by Mr. Fauntleroy, and it eou
taiued two lines only, entreating me to
apply for the necessary order, and to go
niitl set him immediately.
1 shall not attempt to describe the
flutter of expectation, the strange mix
ture of dread and hope that agitated me
when I recognized his handwriting, and
discovered what it was that he desired
me to do. I easily obtained the order,
and went to the prison.
The authorities knowing the dreadful
situation in which he stood, were afraid
ol his attempting to destroy himself, and
had set two men to watch him. One
came out as they opened the cell door.
The other, who was bound not to leave
him, very delicately and considerately
affected to be looking out of the window
the moment I was shown in.
He was sitting on the side of his bed,
with his head drooping -and his hands
hanging listlessly over his knees when l
first caught sight of him, At the sound
of my approach he startled to his feet,
and, without speaking a word, flung both
his arms around my neck.
My heart swelled up.
“Tell me it’s not true, sir ! For God’s
sake, tell me it’s not true,” was all 1
could say to him.
He uev< r answered—oh me ! he never
answered, and he turned away his face.
There was one dreadful moment of
silence. He still held his arms round
my neck, and on a sudden he put his
lips close to my ear.
“Did you get your money out ?” he
whispered. “Were you in time on Satur
day afternoon ?”
I broke free from him in the aatonish
ment of hearing these words.
“What !” I cried out aloud, forgetting
the third person at the window. “That
man who brought the message—”
“Hush !” lie said, putting his hand
upon my lips. “There was no better
man to be found, after the officers had
taken me—l knew no more about him
than you do—l paid him well, as a chance
messenger, and risked his cheating me
of the errand.
“You sent him, then V 7
“1 sent him.”
My stoiy is over, gentlemen. There
is no need for me to tell you that Mr.
Fauntleroy was found guilty, and that he
died by the hangman’s hand. It was in
my power to soothe his last moments in
this world by taking on myself the ar
rangement of some of his private affairs,
which, while they remained unsettled,
weighed heavily on his mind. They had
no connection with the crime lie had
committed, so I could do him the last lit
tle service he was ever to accept at my
hands with a good heart and a clear con
science.
I say nothing in defence of his charac
ter—nothing in palliation of the offence
for which he suffered. But I cannot
forget that in the time of his most fearful
extremity, when the strong arm of J the
law had already seized him, he thought
of the young man whose humble fortunes
he had helped to build ; whose heartfelt
gratitude he had fairly won ; whose sim
ple faith he waft resolved never to betray.
I leave it to greater intellects than mine
to reconcile the anomaly of his reckless
false!) and toward others and his steadfast
truth t ward me. It is. as certain as
that v. -At here that one of Fauntlcroy’s
last el forts in this world was the effort he
made to preserve me from being a loser
by the trust that I had placed in him.
There is the secret of ray strange tender
ness for the memory of a felon ; that is
why the word villian does somehow still
grate on my heart when I hear it asso
ciated with his name.
THE SOLDIERS OF THE POPE
BY JOHN FRANCIS MAGUIRE, M. I».
Rome, Dec. 16, iB6O.
On yesterday, in common with a vast
concourse of spectators, Romans and
foreigners, I witnessed a spectacle which,
of ordinary interest, under ordinary cir
cumstances, was under the peculiar cir
cumstances of the time and place, of the
profoundest interest—indeed at once con
soling and brilliant. This was a review
of that portion of the Pontifical army now
in Rome. It was to have been held on
Thursday last, the day after the opening
of the Council, but the weather was in
auspicious, a superabundance of rain
more than compensating for the dryness
of the preceding season. Tuesday, how
ever, gave promise of a time more favora
ble to such displays, and the morning of
yesterday fulfilled the expectations form
ed of it ; it was mild, warm, sunshiny,
with a true Italian sky—-just the day for
out-door enjoyment. The place appoint
ed for the review was the Villa Borghese,
a charming spot in the midst of the finest
grounds in the neighborhood of Rome.
It resembles a circus or amphitheatre,
in a hollow or oblong basiu, the ground
rising all around in terraces, the edge of
each terrace forming a convenient row of
seats for the spectators. Though we are
now in mid-winter, there was little ap
pearance of Nature’s season of decay in
the surroundings of yesterday ; the grass
of the amphitheatre was bright in the
sunshine, and the magnificent specimens
of the ilex, or evergreen oak, that crown
ed the gentle eminence on each side, with
spruce and pine and cypress, left little to
be desired in the shape of foliage aud
verdure. The hour fixed for the review
was two o’clock; but long before that
time the terraces and sloping ground
were fringed with spectators, whose num
bers increased every moment, until by
the appointed time the entire area enclos
ed within the circling trees was filled like
some huge theatre. The crowd itself
was highly picturesque. People of many
nations and of all classes was there ;
ladies of the higher rank from whatever
country, in the usual Parisian attire, or
that fashioned according to the standard
of that head-quarters of modern civiliza
tion ; peasants from the neighboring
mountain villages in their more becom
ing costumes, and many noble-looking
Roman women from the famous Traste
verc, their abundant dark* hair simply
fastened with a silver arrow or stiletto,
and occasionally set off with a wreath of
scarlet ribboti—a kind of head-dress, let
me humbly suggest, which puts to shame
the tousling and frousling and monstrous
piling up of hair, whether natural or
artificial, to which the fair sex in most of
the globe submit with the meekness of
lambs or martyrs. Bishops, priests,
students, monks, soldiers, and civilians
of all kinds, filled up a picture which was
soon completed by the arrival of the,
troops on the ground. On they came,
heralded by the crash of a full band, or
the spirit-stirring clangour of many trum
pets—horse, toot, and artillery, dragoons,
mounted gendarmes, foot gendarmes,
squadrilieri, chasseurs, sharpshooters,
zouaves, engineers, artillery, mounted
and on foot, and, lastly, an ambulance
train The artillery, dragoons, who form
ed three strong squadrons of about nine
ty each, with the ambulance and engineer
corps, were drawn up in the amphithea
tre, while the other troops were troops
were ranged on the terrace and on the
higher ground, the bright sun shining on
their varied uniforms, their polished
arms and glittering accoutrements, their
banners and decorations. A more beau
tiful picture for color and variety and
brilliancy one could not well desire,
But it was something more than a
picture or a display ; it was at once a
reality, and the expression of a grand
sentiment. In its material sense it satis
tied by its perfection ; in its moral aspect
it expressed the grandeur and universali
ty of Catholic faith, its devotion and its
reverence. Let me regard the spectacle
first in its material aspect —its men, its
horses, and its arms.
I have seen soldiers in many places
and of many nationalities, and I can
honestly declare I never saw a finer or
more soldier like looking body of men
than those I scrutinized with intense and
anxious interest on yesterday. Their
uniforms, each of their kind, could not
be better as to material and fitness; their
arms were of the newest invention and
most approved pattern; their horses
were strong and sturdy, and full of fire
and spirit; and they themselves were
Tleat, cleanly, confident, and had the true
martial carriage. For the same number
of troops, no army that 1 know of could
exhibit so large a proportion of men of fine
stature; and I doubt if in any army in the
world one would find so many men of
gentle birth and refinement as in this
small army of the Pope. The horse
soldiers,.the carabinieri, the engineers,
the artillery, and the squadrilieri, looked
as if they had been specially selected for
size and while the ordinary loot
soldiers seemed in every respect' to be
equal to the French or English of the
same branch. The artillery was particu
larly fine—the guns, of different calibre
and rifled, of the best description, not
like the miserable popguns with which
Lamorieicro had to fight against his
treacherous and overwhelming foe ; the
horses, strong, powerful, and in fine con
dition ; the men admirably equipped, and
evidently of a superior class.
There was, however, one corps of
special interest and of great value, whose
appearance excited just admiration—the
Squadrilieri, who may be best described
as armed peasants. Nothing could he
more simple than their costume, or more
manly and gallant than their appearance
and carriage. The dress was the ordi
nary dress of the contadini —loose jacket
of grayish blue cloth, with breeches to
match, red waistcoat, brown leggings and
scandalled shoes, a soft felt hat, with
small plume of feathers, a belt for the
bayonet, and a pouch. Add a musket
and bayonet, and you have before you
one of the most valuable of the soldiers of
the Pope. You may perfectly designate
them as a mountain militia oi"n rural na
tional guard. They receive pay and car
ry arms as ordinary soldiers, and must be
ready for service at any moment they
are required ; but when not required for
military duties they are engaged in then
usual civil occupations, as farmers, vine
dressers, ar general laborers. As patrols
in the mountainous districts they are in
valuable, and in this capacity they have
already rendered most important service
to public tranquility by the hunting down
and suppression of brigandage, which—
and I have this on very high authority—
is now practically banished from the
Papal dominion, and principally through
the courage as well as intimate local
knowledge possessed by those men one
of whom, a short time since, received the
reward of a thousand francs, or £4O, for
the destruction of a noted brig nd chief
These are the faithful subjects of the
Holy Father whom the Italian Party of
Action denounced as pigs and brutes
because they would not accept liberty of
fered them at the hands of infidels and
anarchists, and who valiantly employed
against the invaders the arms which they
eagerly demanded. Preserving their
own becoming costume, they are incor
porated and#tnareh with the gendarmes,
under whom and with whom they act.
Replace the soft felt by a conical hat,
decorated with many colored ribbons,
and you have in the Roman squadrilieri.
the true bandit of the lyric stage. Your
martinets and adorers of pipe clay might
take a profitable hint from the easy-fitting
and singularly picturesque dress of this
corps, or that of the Zouave c .
This latter corps is in many respects
the most remarkable branch of the Pupal
army, It is, at least to a certain ex
tent, as Catholic as the Church it has
come to defend, Among the varions na
tionalities of which it is composed are
French. Italian, Austrian, Roman, Bel
gian, Dutch, Canadian, South American,
Spanish, Polish, Hungarian, English,
Irish, Scotch, Ac.; Ac.. Ac. The present
strength of the Zouaves is about 3,500;
and of these singular!v enough, the
Dutch constitute nearly one-half of the
entire! The French come next, then
the Canadians. Up to a short time
since the average strength of the Irish
was about 100, and the English 30 oi
more, but many of the Irish are leaving,
or have left, their time of service hav
ing expired. The Canadians are as
many as 350; the French about 600.
This grand forde is animated by the
finest spirit of chivalrous devotion to the
Holy See, and in its bearing and con
duct is in every way worthy of the cause
it has so disinterestedly espoused! Hav
ing its origin in the heroic corps known
as the Franco Beiges, it absorbed into
it other organizations ; and whether on
the field af Castlefidardo—that field of
glorious disaster—or in the short but
terrible campaign terminated by the
crushing victery of Mentana, the Ponti
fical Zouaves have user borne themselves
with daring gallantry, and a splendid
fury which nothing could resist. These
noble soldiers have been stigmatized,
natuarally enough, by baffled revolution
ists and scheming diplomatists, as mer
cenaries and cut-throats; and even wri
ters claiming credit for decency and fair
ness have not been ashamed to employ
the same scandalous epithets, so dis
gracefully unjust and so utterly and en
tirely inappropriate. These mercenaries
are in the receipt of three half pence a
day, about the cost of ihe simplest living;
and those who arc not posesssed of pri
vate fortune, which the most of them are
not, must depend for the modest luxury
of tobacco, or a moderate allowance of
cheap wine, upon the zeal and liberality
of local committees in their respective
countries, through which the munificent
pay of these “mercenaries” is to a small
extent supplemented, Very many of
them are gentlemen of historic race and
proud titles ; many of them are of the
wealthiest classes; many of them are of
the next order; not a few have been me
chanics and artizans in good employ
ment; and a large proportion were sim
ple peasants, rich only in their piety and
the sublime ardor of their devotion to
j the Holy See. But all are animated by
a spirit that is not to be found in any
other military organization in the world.
Their conduct in the churches, whether
on ordinary or festival days, is a living
evidence of this. It is in the highest de- j
gree edifying, such as becomes men who '
have undertaken military duties as a mis- i
sion, not as a profession*
But I am all this time leaving the re -!
view. Wcql, the sun is lighting up the
solemn green of the oaks and pines, and i
imparting a gleam of emerald to the
grass, wnile it plays on the helm and j
Hashes from sword and bayonet; and re
joices the hearts of the many thousands
spectators. At length the shrill blast
ot trumpets, the roll of drums, and the :
grand strains of the Pope’s March, the ’
work of Ilossiui, announced the arrival
ol General Kauzler, commander-in-chief,
ot the Papal army. Followed by a nu- |
merous aud brilliant 'staff the general
soon appeared, and entering the arena
first made the circuit, then slowly passed :
through the batteries of artillery and '
the squadrons and dragoons, the ambu
lance train and engineers, and issuing I
Irom the enclosure passed in the same
slow and stately manner in front of the
Zouaves, the other foot soldiers and the
mounted gendarmes, one of the most im
posing body of horsemen 1 have ever j
seen. This was the sum total of the re- \
view, which amounted to a simple parade !
ot inspection ; but tha effect was quite
as striking as reviews consisting did not
much exceed five thousand in all. This
something less than half the effective
iorce of the Papal army.
_ Tiie marching past is generally con
sidered the most striking feature in such
pageants. In this instance it might be
more properly described as the marching
home, but the effect was in the highest
degree striking. The vast and well-or
dered crowd how lined each side of the
main avenue leading from the beautiful
grounds, and crowned every accessible
spot from which the best view of the
troops could be obtained I had a splen
did place and opportunity for my in
spection, which was anxious and critical, '
and 1 can safely assert there was not a
company of that effective little arm< 0 f
5,000 men that I did Dot carefully ncru
.tinize. I know not what an Inspector-
General from the Horse Guards mUfft
have thought of them, but I can annver
for it that not only did their appearance
aud carriage inspire universal admiration
—and there were persons present w'n >
had seen troops in almost every part of
the world—but I heard several* English
men, and amongst them excellent
of military matters, speak in the highest
terms of the air, bearing and equinment
jol these soldiers of the Pope. Though
I the foot soldiers marched in double lines
: of thirteen abreast, and the horse five or
• six abreast, it occupied a considerable
: time before the whole 5,000 passed- The
| marching was as regular and steady as
| pipeclay itself could desire, but it Was
! likewise proud and gallant, as.if the
men were conscious of the grandeur aud
responsibility of their mission, and would
dare everything in defence of their cause
and banner. It was a noble and cheer
ing sight that, I am well aware, gladden
ed the hearts of thousands from different
parts of the globe. Another matter im
pressed itself strongly on tho>e who
watched the troops as they passed; that
was the air of breeding and refinement
that marked so many of these gallant
men. This applied to several corps, but
in a special degree to the dragoons,
j among the rank aud file of whom ana sev
| oral of the highest position. And these
i are the “mercenaries,’- of whom we
have heard so much!
As the ambulance train was followed
by the last line of bayonets, the great
multitude broke up, and poured through
the main* avenue; but it was not until
it struggled through the Porto del Popolo
of the Flaminiau Gate, that a real notion
could be formed of its density. Yet
though though the obstruction was much
increased by the passing ot carriages
that had to be made way for— amongst
them that of Prince Borghese, to whom the
public were in no small degree indebted
for the charming spectacle of the day—
there was no shouting, no rushing, no
roughness, nothing such as we are too
much accustomed to much nearer home;
; good humor, gentleness, and an evident
j desire to make every allowance for the
i difficulty of the moment, characterized
this crowd, which was at once Ro
' man and cosmopolitan.
An idea was entertained by some who
w 7 ere present that the Council was held
under the protection *f French bayonets
and that the troops then reviewed were
part of the French ajjmy. Properly, so
called, there was not a French soldier in
Rome, or within many miles of Rome;
but there are many Frenchmen in the
Pope’s army, and one regiment consisting
exclusively of Frenchmen—the Antibes
Legion—serves under the Pope’s bag.
The small army of occupation which
France is compelled to retain in the i’a
pal territory in consequence of the bad
faith of the Italian Government and the
attempts of the Garibaldians, free-think
ers, and anarchists, is confined to Civita
Yecchia and one or two frontier towns;
while the Pope maintains the tranquility
of his remaining dominions—those which
\ ictor Emmanuel has not violently torn
from him—by bis own army ani the
loyalty es his remaining subjeetsi
For this purpose, the maintenance > f
peace, of order, aud protection from m re
revolutionary bands, this army is fully
sufficient ; and I am convinced that the
Pope’s army would terribly punish any
new attempt on the part of the hero of
Aspremonte or his sons for it may be re
marked that everv man is now armed w .th
even a more effective weapon than tne
Chassepot, which did such tremendous
executions toward the close of the fierce
fight at Mentana. But this little army,
gallant and pluck and devoted as it is,
could not cope for any lengthened time
against such a force as that with which
Cialdini and Fanti executed the wicked
work of their master in 1850. While he
can do so, the Pope will defend his do
minions and sacred capital against ail
enemies, be they lawless bands of revolu
tionists, or the disciplined array of a tra:
torous sovereign. The rest must depend
on a Higher Power, in whose hands the
mightiest princes are as children, and
the wisest of the world’s statesmen.'.'
fools and drivelling idols. It is not tne
Pope’s wish or interest that he should ne
compelled to maintain a force so great!;,
disproportioned to his means and in
kingdom ; but he is left no option. Men
of the class who ranted and blasphemed a
few days since at their farcical assetnld)
in Naples are ever at work, and in tii
hatred of law and order and religion—
which the Holy Father is the expo nr u
and the champion —would assail him to
morrow if he did not hold them and to
brethren in awe through sheer tcrroi
the sword of the flesh ; for the sworrWn
the spirit lias no influence with tho>o
ignore the Trinity and would erect anew
ialtar to their idols, Reason and Ke' ,, - b
tion. It is the manifest duty ol :i