the hermit of the Cevennes, an old captain, has taken the field with a troop of rash, desperate fellows and fights like a Samson; but it is reported that he is very impartial, for, when an opportunity offers, he treats friends and foes alike, and has already plundered many an old Catholic, or stretched him in the trenches. Now, if such things occur, when all the energies are excited in the mêlée, it is not so much to be wondered at, though they may happen a little too frequently; verily he has more deliberately counted over his rosary than he can now the number of murders he commits. It is curious enough, that a hermit, who had intended to renounce the world so entirely, should embark again in such adventures; his old military ardour is probably aroused within him. I too, retired in my solitary village in the mountains, when I heard of these proceedings was fired, or inspired with them, and formed the resolution of also rendering my poor services to God and the king, my parishoners would not hear of it: by
