CHAPTER VII. "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust," So we lay the turf above thee now, And we seal thy narrow bed: But thy spirit, brother, soars away Among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest! MILMAN. DANGERS and calamities were accumulating around the exiles. Every day witnessed a diminution in their numbers; the enemy, with an increase of troops, and exasperated vengeance, were literally "coming in upon them as a flood;" the piercing storms of winter were beginning to sweep their valleys, "the fields yielded no meat, the flock was cut off from the fold, there was no herd in the stalls," and no consolation was left to the sufferers, in their unequal contest, but trust in the propitious smiles of Providence. Passing over the perils they had encountered, and the struggles in which they had engaged, since : the Sabbath morning on which we left them at Villar, the evening of the 16th of October found them in the vicinity of Rodoretto; and, never since their departure from the banks of Lake Geneva, was there a time fraught with more imminent danger. The foe hemmed them in on every side. Not a moment, therefore, was to be lost their retreat must be made under cover of darkness, as the first gleam of day would be the signal for their destruction. Before midnight, a council of war was convened, to determine what course they should pursue; and, after mature deliberation and earnest prayer, they resolved, at the suggestion of their leader, to march before break of day, to the Balsille; and Arnaud gave directions, before setting out, to heighten their present intrenchments and add to their fires, that the enemy might be led to believe they were still waiting in readiness to encounter them. Two hours before dawn of morning they commenced their route. So intense was the darkness, that their guides wrapped themselves in white linen, that they might be more easily seen. Their direct road lay through Salsa, but a large body of French troops were stationed on its heights, and discovery would be inevitable. Only one alternative remained, although it was a desperate one,—to climb over rocks, descend precipices, and make their own bodies the bridges over frightful chasms. After a night of unparalleled exertion, they succeeded in surmounting the accumulation of obstacles which opposed their progress; but day light extracted a shudder, as it disclosed the terrific course they had pursued, the full extent of whose dangers the darkness had concealed. At length they planted their little standard on the heights of the Balsille. This remarkable spot, which the God of nature seemed to have upreared as a citadel for his oppressed people, is situated near the extremity of the valley of St Martino, and is composed of a gigantic rampart of rock, almost perpendicular, and commanding both sides of the narrow defile, which is watered by a tributary of the Germanasca. Three fountains supplied the fortress with water: the only side on which there was the least possibility of access, was, by the command of Arnaud, fortified with palisades and parapets of turf, strengthened with timber from the adjoining forests of pine and chesnut. Seventeen of these walls or embankments were constructed, one above another, so that, when dislodged by the enemy from one, they might take refuge behind the next. The Vaudois hailed this new retreat, as affording a sure respite from the sanguinary horrors, to which, for two months, they had been exposed; and, in the prospect of having it as |