andals of cloth
bound round their legs with thongs, similar to those worn by the
robbers. They carry long staffs, on which as they lean they form
picturesque objects in the lonely landscape, and they are followed by
their ever-constant companion, the dog. They are a curious, questioning
set, glad at any time to relieve the monotony of their solitude by the
conversation of the passerby, and the dog will lend an attentive ear,
and put on as sagacious and inquisitive a look as his master.

But I am wandering from my story. I was now left alone with one of the
robbers, the confidential companion of the chief. He was the youngest
and most vigorous of the band, and though his countenance had something
of that dissolute fierceness which seems natural to this desperate,
lawless mode of life, yet there were traits of manly beauty about it.
As an artist I could not but admire it. I had remarked in him an air of
abstraction and reverie, and at times a movement of inward suffering
and impatience. He now sat on the ground; his elbows on his knees, his
head resting between his clenched fists, and his eyes fixed on the
earth with an expression of sad and bitter rumination. I had grown
familiar with him from repeated conversations, and had found him
superior in mind to the rest of the band. I was anxious to seize every
opportunity of sounding the feelings of these singular beings. I
fancied I read in the countenance of this one traces of
self-condemnation and remorse; and the ease with which I had drawn
forth the confidence of the chieftain encouraged me to hope the same
with his followers.

After a little preliminary conversation, I ventured to ask him if he
did not feel regret at having abandoned his family and taken to this
dangerous profession. "I feel," replied he, "but one regret, and that
will end only with my life;" as he said this he pressed his clenched
fists upon his bosom, drew his breath through his set teeth, and added
with deep emotion, "I have something within here that stifles me; it is
like a burning iron consuming my very heart. I could tell you a
miserable story, but not now--another time."--He relapsed into his
former position, and sat with his head between his hands, muttering to
himself in broken ejaculations, and what appeared at times to be curses
and maledictions. I saw he was not in a mood to be disturbed, so I left
him to himself. In a little time the exhaustion of his feelings, and
probably the fatigues h