told, they obtained a certain degree of credence.
It was at this unluckly moment that the priest
who always accompanies Garibaldi, appeared,
bringing five English soldiers prisoners, escorted
by a party of the general's foot-lancers, and bearing
a verbal request from him that the colonel
should deal with them according to their deserts.
Whether the colonel understood Garibaldi's
message in its severest sense, or whether a certain
degree of excitement under which he had
been labouring, clouded his calmer judgment,
cannot be known. The course he adopted was
to address the culprits as follows:

"You are ruffianly thieves, and have brought
disgrace upon the British name. The general
desires that I should punish you as you deserve.
You will now be shot."

As might be expected, there was an universal
movement. The men who were sitting round
their camp-fires, started up and gathered about
the prisoners in a disorderly crowd. Some few
caught up their arms with meaning looks. The
prisoners themselves offered some agitated remonstrance:
one, vowing he had only taken a
fowl, and had offered payment for that: another
speaking of his wife and children. The colonel replied
by ordering two men from each company to
form the firing party. Mr. D. now stepped forward,
and, in the character of an old Sicilian
comrade and friend, begged the colonel to consider
the responsibility he was incurring, in
taking the lives of these five men without even
the form of trial.

"You do not belong to the regiment, sir,"
was the reply," and I cannot permit you to
interfere."

By this time, the battalion was in a state of
open mutiny. It being evident that the order
to execute the men, would not be obeyed, the
colonel sent a hasty report to Garibaldi of the
state of affairs, and demanded instructions.

"Shoot two of them," responded the chief.

This was found equally impracticable, and
another message was sent, requesting that an
Italian regiment might be marched to the spot,
to execute the sentence.

"I cannot," returned Garibaldi, "allow any
English soldier to suffer the disgrace of being
executed by any hands but those of his own
countrymen. Let the men be pardoned."

They were reserved, however, for trial, and
probably for some minor penalty. Thus ended
this painful scene; one of the strangest features
of which was, that he whose sudden severity had
nearly provoked a dangerous outbreak, is ordinarily
no less thoughtful and humane than he is
brave.

Oct. 29. To-day, a little battle. Firing
began, very coaxingly, just as we were considering
how to pass the day. Obtained a new pass
from General Milwitz—having lost my own—
and drove out, picking up Generals Wheat and
Jackson, who had been unable to procure horses.
A good deal of firing from the town, and a
small roll of musketry all along the left of our
line. Leaving the carriage on the road, we cut
across the fields towards the "scrimmage,"
meeting many wounded, being borne away. An
aide-de-camp galloped past from the front, and
a minute or two later our carriage came tearing
over the cross-roads at frantic speed, urged on
by the aide-de-camp, pistol in hand! Our driver
made helpless signs to us, intimating that he
would return, if he could; and we were speculating
as to what superior officer had been hit—
fearing it might be General Avezzano, who was
in command in front, and to whom we were
bound—when the carriage returned, bringing
Colonel Fabrize, of the general staff, fearfully
wounded by a shell in the thigh, arm, and head.
Proceeding onward, we found the brave old
general, Avezzano, where, of course, he had no
business to be—among his skirmishers—doing
the duty of a captain, because he did not choose
to confide it to another. After a few minutes
here, we sat down in the centre of a Calabrese
battalion who were sheltered from the enemy's
fire by the crest of a little hill. Round its
base, swept a dry watercourse, leading direct
from the enemy's position, and down which, if
the attack was pressed, they were expected to
come. An hour passed—the firing died away
—and again we returned home disappointed.

Oct. 30. Heavy firing from Capua kept the
troops on the alert. Walked out alone to St.
Angelo, and, from the sand-bag battery, witnessed
a smart little action. The day was bright
and still, and the atmosphere so clear, that not
a puff of the rifle-smoke nor the glisten of a
bayonet was lost. A large body of the enemy
suddenly issued from the town, and, moving in
loose order across the open ground, occupied
a number of rifle-pits they have dug, and from
thence opened a well-sustained fire on our
people lining the wood. The movement was
covered by a heavy fire from the works: the
shells dropping into the wood, and the nearest
farm-buildings, with an accuracy to which the
number of wounded brought to the rear soon
bore witness. In about half an hour, a second
body came out. These were followed by two
squadrons of cavalry, who, keeping well out of
fire, manoeuvred on their rear and right: their
object being apparently, to guard against a rush
upon the rifle-pits. Our line was strongly reinforced,
and extended to the left; but no closer
conflict took place, and in a couple of hours the
enemy retired. Those extraordinary troops—
the Calabresi—who sometimes fight like lions,
and sometimes act like curs, to-day had a fit of
the latter propensity. An officer told me, that of
seven hundred men who were ordered forward,
only one hundred could be brought to the
scratch.

Oct. 31. In great expectation that the bombardment
would commence to-day. It proved,
on the contrary, to be the quietest day we
have had for some time. The town is now completely
invested; the Sardinians having passed
their approaches within range, on the opposite
side, and our batteries on this, only awaiting the
signal. Garibaldi, who never made an offensive
movement (unless the unopposed passage of the
Volturno could be so regarded) after the arrival