the state of feeling there, and learn what means
of subsistence were obtainable. The night which
followed was a very dreary one! We lighted
our fires and tried to be jovial and soldier-
like; but our songs died away in sadness, and
the shrill boyish accent of the "Vivas" served
only to remind us of what stuff our force was
made of.

It was, I am told, discussed on that night,
between Garibaldi and his officers, whether the
force should not at once be broken up under
different leaders, to take the paths through the
mountains, and rally somewhere near Catanzaro. I
am certain, had the plan been adopted, we should
have succeeded. Through the tracts we could
have taken all pursuit would be impossible, and
as we went further north, we should have found
abundance of everything.

The General, however, was full of the idea
that the towns would at once declare for him,
and he replied to all arguments by saying,
"Wait till we see what news Corte will bring
us!"

We never did hear—at least I, and such as
myself, never did hear—the tidings he brought
back. We only knew that we were to march by
the coast line, in the direction of Reggio. I
suspected that all was not so satisfactory as it
looked, by a visit I had from old Doctor Riboli,
a man whose yellowish hair and blue eyes gave
him a " false air" of Garibaldi.

"What have you got," asked he, "in the way
of old linen, fit for making lint and bandages?"

"Are we come that far, doctor?" asked I,
with a laugh.

"Not quite; but we shall to-morrow or next
day. That blessed municipality of Reggio, who,
we were told, had their wives and daughters at
work making red shirts since June last, have
now sent a deputation to beg that we will not
enter their city, for if we do, they say, it will
be a civil war! Civil war! Did any one ever
hear the like; but it's all Cialdini—he has done
it all.'

This was the first time I had heard Cialdini's
name thrown out as that of our greatest adversary
and enemy; but I believe, from that very
hour, I never listened five minutes to any
conversation without finding him mentioned.
It was Cialdini sent the fleet and the army;
Cialdini starved, circumvented, hunted us. It
was he terrified the people against succouring
or joining us; and it was he who, to pursue us,
selected certain regiments of "Old Piedmont," as
they call it, whose hatred of Garibaldi arose
from all their envy of his glorious career in
Lombardy.

Then we all knew of the personal dislike which
subsisted between our General and Cialdini, and
we saw at once why the minister had selected
him. It was a sort of duel that they had planned;
so, at least, we regarded it. We moved slowly
on to San Gio, Menotti's corps leading; the
men were in tolerable spirits, and sang various
patriotic songs as we went. In my capacity of
Orderly I had treated myself to a horse, or,
rather, a Calabrian pony; but he was such a
mangy-looking beast—so low before, so big-
headed, and so crooked in the legs, that I never
mounted him without causing shouts of laughter,
and I finished by making him a pack-horse
for myself and my friends, and walked behind
him.

Two citizens of Reggio arrived in our camp
that night, and informed us that a large force
of the royal troops were in march from Naples,
with mounted scouts, and several field-guns.
They brought some newspapers, but all in the
government interest, and all speaking of us in
terms of contempt and derision.

On the whole, we took these criticisms very
well. We treated them as calumnies of the
hour, and counted on the future for our
vindication. A sort of vision of Rome—a triumphal
entry into Rome—seemed to pass before our
eyes continually, and we used to discuss details
of the ceremonial, not only with a grave air of
certainty, but sometimes with all the warmth of
passion. Whether, for instance, the King was
to be on Garibaldi's right or left hand? What
place was to be given to the staff of Garibaldi?
Where were the Picciotti to come? I remember
well we had grown very hot in discussing
whether the red shirts were to form a corps
d'élite in the army, or retire—until wanted
for Venice—on a pension.

When the bugle called a halt, and we drew
up in a large field of potatoes, some of us had
eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and were
soon seen digging up the roots and eating them
ravenously, raw as they were. Strict orders
had been issued the day before against the
slightest transgression of this sort, and an
injunction given to remember that we were not in
an enemy's country, but amongst friends, who
would judge of our patriotism by our respect
for honesty. The sergeants and corporals, therefore,
hurried hither and thither, warning the
men against pillage, and affecting to take down
the names of the pillagers, when suddenly came
Eabricotti to say, "The field has been paid
for, my lads. It is all your own, and the
General says you are free to it!" I suppose
that a meal of potatoes scarcely ever excited
more heartfelt grat itude, or called forth a lustier
cheer!

Next day, 28th, we moved down the slope of
the hill towards Reggio; our advanced guard
was under Nullo, and I accompanied them to
carry orders. Every one was very serious that
day. It was a hot sultry one, with a sirocco
wind, and it is needless to say how such days
affect the Italian temperament, or the amount
of depression they can inflict. There was
scarcely a word spoken in the ranks, and
although the advanced guard had been selected
out of picked men, the more to impress the
folk at Reggio with our force, we were more like
brigands than soldiers. Red-shirted, and without
coats, we carried each a canvas-bag over one
shoulder, of whatever eatable we could find. A
bottle or a gourd balanced this on the other
side; our scanty wardrobe hung from our musket
behind, and usually finished in a pair of strong