The Revolution in Sicily - narrow escape of our special artist, 1860. I met with a gentleman going to Santa Catarina, where the column then was, and we agreed to take a carriage and make route ensemble for mutual protection. My new acquaintance carried the gun which every peasant going to his work bears on his shoulder, as though in Sicily every mans hand was lifted against his neighbour, and to a certain extent such is verily the case, for the revolution has unchained the worst passions of the worst of the population. While passing through a most desolate district, about sixteen miles from Vallelunga, a man suddenly started up from behind a bush of prickly cactus, and, with an imperative gesture of the arm, cried "Stop!" Luckily, I suspected something wrong, and, jumping up in the carriage, shouted in the coachmans ear "Forwards!" and, getting the horses, which were tolerably good, into a gallop, we turned a corner of the road before the brigand - for such he surely was - could fire upon us. As we flew along I gave one glance behind, ready to dodge should a shot come, and perceived half-a-dozen more hastening down from the neighbouring hill to support their comrade. From "Illustrated London News", 1860.