thousand prisoners—and guns how many!
Colonel Dunne wounded in number forty-two.

"Wounded? Where?"

"Si, signor—up-stairs—in number forty-two.
Garibaldi was everywhere—fought in three
places at once—and saved the battle. Column
lost its way," &c. &c.

Two hours later, I was in possession of
more authentic particulars of this second battle
on the Volturno; knew also that the ex-king,
still held Capua and Gaeta, and showed no
symptom of anything but a dogged resolution
to fight to the last.

While gleaning information in different
quarters, a familiar voice greeted me, and a certain
colonel, in Garibaldian attire, strode across the
street. He was formerly in the Indian cavalry,
recently commandant of Garibaldi's depôt at
Palermo, and was now attached to the general's
staff in that character of "generally useful"
which seems to indicate the duties of
three-fourths of the officers of this remarkable army.
He held in his hand a coarse haversack, which
contained a book, a boot-jack, and an immense
sausage—of true Bologna manufacture, weighing
about four pounds. Of the second of these
articles the colonel seemed especially proud.

"I venture to say," he observed, flourishing
it in the street, with a little ostentation, "there's
not a man in the army, from the general
downwards, that possesses such a thing; but it saves
your boots immensely, in getting them off when
wet, without leaving four-fifths of the boot
behind. Come out and see the fun. I can give
you capital quarters at Caserta, but there's
nothing to eat. This splendid fellow" (swinging
the sausage) "was to last me four days."

I promised to bring wherewithal to amend
the supper, and, having hastily accomplished all
I had to do in Naples, drove out with my friend
to Caserta.

The syndic had assigned to him a very roomy
residence, near the palace: the property of a
gentleman who was supposed to hold in his
possession forty thousand scudi of the royal
treasure, and who, declining to give them up for the
present national exigency, had been walked off
to prison. There was by no means a superfluity
of furniture (one sofa, with its spine fractured,
two chairs, and a form, comprised the inventory),
and of the domestics only two remained
to partake the changed fortunes of the mansion.
These were, Giuseppe, the steward, aged seventy,
and a lady sufficiently stricken in years to have
easily been his grandmother. She was totally deaf,
and, when accosted, uttered a peculiar shriek,
like a feeble war-whoop, whose meaning none
but Giuseppe could divine, nor he distinctly.

We were joined at supper by an English
gentleman, who had just quitted the
headquarters, established in the palace, and brought
us information that a battle was expected
on the morrow. It was understood that
Garibaldi would endeavour to throw a bridge of
boats over the Volturno, near St. Angelo, and
as this little arrangement would undoubtedly be
opposed by the enemy, who kept jealous watch
on the river, it was far from improbable that a
general action might ensue. Such tidings gave
zest to the Falernian we had brought with us,
along with the gigantic sausage and sister
delicacies.

Both the colonel and the English gentleman
lad been present in the battle of Monday, the
first of October; the former in his "generally
useful" capacity; the latter as a simple amateur.

"It was, I give you my honour," said the
colonel, "a precious near thing. The fellows had
put on red frocks, and rushed upon our
outposts, singing out ' Viva Garibaldi!' It so
bothered the Sicilians that they ran in at once,
scarcely giving us time to get under arms. At
one time, things looked very shaky. Garibaldi
got more excited than is habitual with him, was
evidently uneasy, and rushed about from point
to point, from battery to battery, on that little
jumping Arab of his, as though he knew by
inspiration where he was most needed in person.
In fact, he saved the battle. It would have
been lost but for him. For him and our friend
here," concluded our host, gravely.

"At least, I did not run away," said the
modest English gentleman.

"I did," said the colonel, "I bolted. We all
bolted. We were advancing through the only
piece of open ground, towards an almond and
mulberry grove, when out burst a couple of
hundred cavalry. Away went our boys,
helter-skelter, as hard as they could go. It was the
best thing they could do. There was no time
to form square, even if they had ever heard of
such a manœuvre. It was some hundred yards
to the nearest shelter,—a little ridge, and then a
thickish copse. The cavalry followed, and cut
down fifteen or twenty. As we neared the ridge,
we officers began to call out, "Fire! fire! Stand,
and give fire!" and, to do the lads justice, once
on the ridge, they rallied fast enough. The cavalry
hesitated—Neapolitan cavalry always hesitate—
as if they wanted orders. The ridge was
nothing. An English hunter would have popped
over without looking at it, but the leader
dismounted to see what was behind, and that
settled the matter. A few shots sent them
off. But as for our friend here," continued
the colonel, "since he will not tell you what
he did, I will. There has been some sneering
about 'amateurs'—such, at least, as do not
swagger about in picturesque costumes, dining
at tables d'hôte, and talking about 'our' lines,
'our' batteries, &c.—and who might as well be
in Norfolk Island for any service they are likely
to render. Here is a gentleman in a black coat
and a very handsome summer waistcoat, who
rendered Italy an essential service in the
person of one of her most intrepid generals during
an hour of incessant danger. He was poking
about, sir, close to the Capua Gate at Santa
Maria—that being at the time the most
promising spot in the whole field for a ball through
the body—when General Milwitz, who
commanded there, had his horse killed, and received
a contusion in the foot. Our friend here,
seeing the general in difficulties, went up and