ESCAPE OF THE KEPUBLICAN EXILES. 131 



up the parapet, and then he fell into the river, where 

 it is to be presumed that this drunkard was drowned. 

 At least they heard no more of him. He had been 

 the drummer who beat the alarm at their doors in 

 the morning, and who had provoked them by his 

 constant insolence. They had retaliated handsomely. 



After this performance they came down from the 

 ranipart, joined the other prisoners, and went noise- 

 lessly to see what was the state of the guard-house. 

 The wine had operated perfectly. There was not a 

 soul in the guard-house. Thus they had nothing to 

 do but to take the muskets and cartridges at their 

 leisure. They now went to the canoe. The draw- 

 bridge had not been raised, and the exit was easy. 

 "With the canoe they found the pilot. Barthelemy, 

 who was old and weak in every sense of the word, 

 fell into the river, but it was near the edge, and the 

 pilot pulled him into the boat. They then cut the 

 rope, and let themselves go down the stream. 



No man knows the intenseness, variety, or agony 

 of emotion of which the human heart is capable, 

 who has not been in situations resembling this. 

 Every step treading upon death, a moment, the 

 turning of a hair, a breath, making the difference 

 between the bitterest suffering, and escape into light, 

 and air, and freedom, and the prospect of long enjoy- 

 ment. In leaving their dungeon, they might actually 

 look upon themselves as rescued from their grave. 

 Yet the bark of a dog, the alarm of a sentinel, a 



