LETTER XXV.


I am now come to _St. Dimas_, the last, and most important, if not the
most beautiful of all the hermits' habitations. This hermitage is
surrounded on all sides by steep and dreadful precipices, some of which
lead the eyes straight down, even to the river _Lobregate_; it can be
entered only on the east side by a draw-bridge, which, when lifted up,
renders any access to it almost impossible. This hermitage was formerly
a strong castle, and possessed by a _banditti_, who frequently plundered
and ravaged the country in the day-time, and secured themselves from
punishment, by retiring to this fast hold by night. As it stands, or
rather hangs over the buildings and convent below, they would frequently
lower baskets by cords, and demand provisions, wine, or whatever
necessaries or luxuries the convent afforded; and if their demands were
not instantly complied with, they tumbled down rocks of an immense size,
which frequently damaged the buildings, and killed the people beneath:
indeed, it was always in their power to destroy the whole building, and
suffer none to live there; but that would have been depriving themselves
of one safe means of subsistence:--at length the monks, by the
assistance of good glasses, and a constant attention to the motion of
their troublesome _boarders_, having observed that the greater part were
gone out upon the _marauding_ party, persuaded seven or eight stout
farmers to believe, that heaven would reward them if they could scale
the horrid precipices, and by surprise seize the castle, and secure the
few who remained in it;--and these brave men accordingly got into it