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38 ROMANTIC HISTORY OF A ROBBER. ROMANTIC HISTORY OF A ROBBER.

A traveller, says Le National, who was lately passing through Turin, collected the following authentic account of a famous robber, who was executed there about three months ago.

He was named Rondino. He was an orphan from his childhood, and left to the care of his uncle, the ' squire of the village, an avaricious man, who treated him very ill. When he was old enough to serve as a conscript, for which purpose lots were drawn, the ' squire openly said,” I hope that Rondino will be caught and have to go into the army, and so the country will be rid of him. That lad will never turn out well. Sooner or later he will be a disgrace to his family. He will certainly end his days on the gallows.”It is asserted that this man's dislike of Rondino had an unworthy motive. His nephew had a small inheritance coming to him, which the ' squire administered, and of which he was in no hurry to render an account. However this may have been, when they came to draw, Rondino's lot was to serve, and he left the village, persuaded that his uncle had been guilty of some fraud or stratagem with the urns, to force upon him a soldier's ticket.

When he was placed in his regiment, he was insubordinate, frequently absent when the roll was called, and so restive, that finally he was sent into a battalion under discipline. He was extremely mortified at this punishment, swore to change his conduct, and kept his word. At the end of a few months he was restored to his regiment. From that moment he became exact and soldierly in his deportment, and endeavoured to gain the notice of his officers. He knew how to read and write, and was very intelligent. He was soon made corporal and then sergeant.

One day the colonel said to him,  “Rondino, your time of service has expired; but I hope that you are going to stay with us.”

“Thank you, colonel; I would rather return home.”

“You would do wrong; you are well off here; your officers and fellow soldiers like you; you are a sergeant now, and if you go on as you have begun, you will soon be sergeant major. If you stay with the regiment, you are provided for; if you return to your village you will starve, or be a burthen on your relations.”

“Colonel, I have a little property at home.”

“You are mistaken; your uncle writes me that the expenses of your education have swallowed it up, that, and more. Besides, if you knew in what light he regards you, you would be in no hurry to return to him. He writes me, begging that I would detain you by all means, that you are a good for nothing scape grace, whom every body is afraid of, and that not a farmer in the place would give you employment.” “He says so!” exclaimed Rondino.

“Here is his letter,” was the laconic answer.

“Never mind,” said Rondino,” I'll go. I want to see my own place again.” As he was bent upon his dismissal it was given him, accompanied with approbatory certificates.

Rondino, on his return, proceeded immediately to his uncle's house, accused him of his injustice, and demanded of him, very haughtily, the property which he said was his, and detained without a right. The squire replied, flew into a rage, produced some crooked accounts without head or tail, and at length the dispute rose so high that he struck Rondino. That blow was the fatal pivot on which the fate of Rondino turned. With one stroke of his stiletto he stretched his uncle dead at his feet. He then fled the village, and took asylum with one of his early friends, who lived in a lonely cattle shed among the mountains.

Three gen d'armes were soon dispatched in search of him.

Rondino took post in a rough winding road, and lay on the look out. He fired, and killed the first that appeared, wounded the second, and the third ran away. Ever since the persecution of the Carbonari, the gen d'armes are out of favour in Piedmont, and the popular feeling sides with those who overmatch them. Rondino, therefore, was looked upon as a hero by the neighbouring peasantry. In several successive engagements with armed peace officers he was again fortunate, and this increased his reputation. It is said that in the space of two years and a half he killed fifteen gen-d'armes. He very often changed his hiding place, but never went further in any direction than seven or eight leagues from his native village. He never pilfered or robbed; only when his ammunition was nearly exhausted, he would ask the first passer by for a quarter crownpiece, to buy powder and shot. Generally he slept in some deserted, or retired farm house.His custom was to lock all the doors, and take with him all the keys into the room that had been assigned to him. He kept his gun at his bed side; and outside of the house he left for sentinel an enormous large dog, who followed him every where, and whose formidable teeth had been felt on more occasions than one, by the enemies of his master. At break of day, Rondino restored the keys, thanked his host, and very often the family, before he could get away, would press some provisions upon him.

Mr. A——, a rich land owner in these parts, saw him about three years ago. It was harvest time, and he was in the midst of his labourers, overseeing their work, when a strange fellow appeared of a sudden, and came direct towards him. He was a large, well made man, with a strong, hardy, but not fierce countenance; laying down a musket from his arm, at about fifty paces from the workmen, beside a tree, he ordered his dog to keep watch of it, and then stepped up and asked an alms.”Why,” said Mr. A——,” are you not willing to work; suppose you take hold