"Danger ennobles," you tell me, " and the
men must be poor creatures indeed who will
whine about bodily pain, and descant on their
physical sufferings after they are over!"

Well, but I am constantly being told that
these Italians are poor creatures, and, as to the
ennobling effects of danger-- danger may elicit
nobility, but cannot surely create it. From a
poltroon, danger will get—nothing but poltroonery.
As a specimen of the feeling with which
these volunteers are regarded by the mass of their
countrymen (be it observed parenthetically that
this feeling does not necessarily imply approval
of the recent rash invasion of the Roman territory),
I subjoin the literal translation of a
letter addressed to a lady of our committee, and
enclosing the silver medal alluded to. Both
are now in our possession. The following is a
faithful copy of the letter, merely suppressing
the name of the writer and the town whence he
writes. The letter itself will best explain why
I have deemed it prudent, in the interests of the
writer, not to reveal these:

"Honoured Madam. I have not large
means wherewith to help my brothers wounded
by the myrmidons of the Napoleonic gang, and
of the Pope-King of the Roman territory. I
was thinking of selling some article or other, in
order that I, too, might assist in so patriotic
and humane a subscription, when it occurred to
me that I possessed the commemorative medal
of the War of Independence in 1859, which
was given to us by the Signor Bonaparte (sic).
The said medal being even more abhorrent to me
than that of Pius the Ninth-- or, at least, quite
as much so—I send it to you in order that you
may have it sold for the benefit of my wounded
brothers before mentioned.

"Receive, honoured madam, the expression
of my profound respect.

"Your obliged servant,

"B. B.

"________ , 26th November, 1867."

This simple soldier requested us to publish
his letter in the Italian papers, under the
impression that it would induce many others to
follow his example! For obvious reasons we
have declined to comply with this desire,
although accepting his well-meant gift, which
will be purchased as a curiosity by one of our
committee. The medal bears the names of
Montebello, Turbigo, Marignano, and Magenta.
It would answer no good purpose to extend
the limits of this little paper. It is meant to
have—as I have previously stated—no political
colour whatsoever. The instances of manliness
and good feeling which I have given-- and for
the absolute truth of which, let me repeat, I
can unhesitatingly vouch—are drawn from
among the volunteers, for the sole and simple
reason that they alone, being totally unprovided
for by any public fund, naturally have recourse
to private charity, and it is with them, therefore,
that we chiefly come in contact.

The above facts do not, of course, prove that
the Italians are paragons of virtue, any more
than less creditable facts—which, alas! no
doubt might be collected in quantity-- would
prove them to be monsters of vice. But they
at least disprove the sweepingly contemptuous
assertion that there is no good thing to be
expected from this people. I have no pretension
to exalt the Italians into heroes; but I do most
heartily desire that the world-- and especially
the English world—should know them to be
men!

CALLED OVER THE COALS.

A DIRTY, straggling mark on a swampy field,
a disused footpath which the coarse grass is
rapidly covering, a strip of soil black and
swart as the flooring of the wretched cellars in
which thousands of poor Londoners pine and
die-- such is the view which we have driven
miles to see. A narrow slip of land, a few
feet wide and not many yards long, uncultivated,
ugly, and useless, the place is now pointed
out to us as worth more thousands of pounds than
would buy an estate in the country, or build and
endow a roomy block of almshouses. It seems
rather dear at the money. Do what you would,
you couldn't grow as many vegetables on it
the year round as may be purchased any morning
in Covent Garden for a shilling; and yet it
literally caused the thousands I speak of to be
diverted from one set of pockets into another,
and that within twelve months from the present
time. This dirty pathway virtually settled the
great arbitration case between Canal and Coal,
and was the final straw which broke the typical
camel's back, and made Coal triumphant. The
aqueduct overhead, or rather some of the miles
of water it is connected with, were, on the one
hand, accused of injuring the adjacent coalpits,
and, on the other, held up as agreeable
aquatic neighbours, incapable of harm. Coal
insisted it was aggrieved, Canal stoutly
maintained its innocence, and it was the untoward
appearance of a closed-in fissure which
virtually gave the crowning point to the victory
of Coal. The most sceptical were convinced,
when the earth opened at their feet, that there
might be something in the allegations as to
"workings" being injured, and foundations and
roof-trees giving way; and the upshot of it all
was that the skilled arbitrators gave a rational
verdict, and adjudged Canal to pay damages.

It was in a " hall by the sea," of a very
different character to the one advertised, that I
saw the arbitrators at work last year, and an
uncommonly snug, cozy, profitable business
arbitrating seemed to be. " Costs a cool
hundred an hour, sir; has been on for a fortnight,
and will last for several days longer, believe
me. They're all at lunch now; don't begin till
ten; always take lunch, " thinking over the
evidence," they call it; leave early in the afternoon;
stay at the best hotels; have everything
that's most expensive; horses and carriages
found them, and are paid handsomely into the