general's well-known habit of appearing where
he is least expected by the foe. How is he?
How does he look? Wonderfully brisk and
well. Active as one of his sixteen-year-old
recruits. Does he hobble? Not he! But they
talked of a stick. He has flung it away. Noble
heart of Garibaldi! We believe he did so,
though it helped him, because he would not at
such a moment call to remembrance the
miscreant shot at Aspromonte.

Speaking of that, a curious rumour has it
that Colonel Pallavicini, through whose orders
that evil deed was done, has offered his
services upon the general's staff! It is added—
but that is not so strange—that the magnanimous
hero has accepted them. He went to
Lecco this morning by the usual passenger-
boat, and will return in the evening. Meanwhile,
we can scrutinise the shirts of rose.

They are of all ages, from twelve to thirty-
five, and of every shade of brown. Those young
gentlemen, with eastern "fezes," faces almost
Nubian, and demeanour somewhat subdued, are
said to be deserters and refugees returned from
Egypt, in the hope that, by taking gallant share
in the impending struggle, they might be
permitted to atone their fault. The government
refused to make any pact with the children of
Italy who had taken refuge on a foreign soil,
but permitted them to volunteer. There are
many noble-looking men among these volunteers,
including veterans of twenty-five, decorated
with three medals; but, as a general rule,
they run small and young—so young, indeed,
that we find it difficult to believe a barber
who assures us that, in one evening, his
receipts for shaving amounted to fifty-nine
francs.

They have a long drill at five in the morning,
and a shorter one in the afternoon. The rest of
the time is at their own disposal, and it is most
creditable to them that, as yet, no single
instance of drunkenness, insubordination, or
misconduct of any kind, can be laid to their
charge—a circumstance the more noticeable,
when we consider the results usually engendered
by the combination of excitement and enforced
idleness. But this movement is in reality
exceptional, and cannot be judged by ordinary
rules.

Perhaps the most astonishing fact, however,
connected with these young men, is one that
reached us from what seemed an authentic and
intelligent source, that the whole body, seven
thousand, spend in the shops and coffee-houses
of the town thirty thousand francs a day!
Now, their nominal pay being one franc and a
tenth—subject to deductions—it follows that,
unless friends at home have been very liberal, or
shopkeepers at Como very confiding, but little
cash will find its way with the Garibaldini into
the Tyrol.

The corps are capitally dressed; the bright
red frock, now become historical, is of excellent
make and quality; and with the neat grey
trousers with red seam, and red cap with a
shade, something like that worn by the French,
they have the appearance of rather irregular
regulars.

Were there any English among them?
Hardly any—at least, at Como—and these are
supposed to be the élite of the corps. The
general likes to see his "medal-men" around
him, one of these same youths proudly assures
us. He has not encouraged the advances
of British ex-officers who wished to join
him. Loving the English, and appreciating
their gallantry and steadiness in the field, he
has an unpleasant recollection of the trouble
and embarrassments entailed upon him in the
last war, by the arrival of a body of gentlemen
calling themselves a British legion, but entirely
disdainful of command, even from their own
officers, and whose first and last exploit seems to
have been the shooting of one of the sentries of
their ally! All applications from British officers
are at once transferred to the minister of war,
and hitherto not even the familiar faces of some
who were the general's tried and trusted followers
in the last war, have reappeared in his train.

In opposition to this, however, it must be
stated that Madame Corti, while dining with
her husband, two days since, at Garibaldi's
table, heard him speak with approval of a
suggestion that had been offered, with the view of
employing the many English who had proffered
their services. After all, let it be nevertheless
remembered, that the struggle is peculiarly
national, and that, so long as it finds aliment in
the nation itself, foreign aid will but detract from
its glory. In Sicily and Naples, any man, so
he would fight, was welcome. Now, the only
difficulty is to select from the warriors whom
Italy herself presses to the front.

It is time to go down to the quay, and join
the multitude who have been already some
time on the look-out for the general. A gun!
Another! The boat is in sight. All the
unoccupied population not already on the spot,
come trooping down, till the space is filled
with a multitude swaying like a corn-field,
thickly grown with poppies (the red shirts),
and a few corn-flowers (the national guard).

There is a broad species of balcony, belonging
to a house overlooking the landing-place—a
capital place of vantage, could it only be
reached, capable of holding several hundred
spectators. It is necessary, however, to scramble
up a wall twelve feet high, and then over a
railing three feet higher. This exactly suits the
Garibaldian element in the crowd. Forming the
classic "tortoise," in a manner which Caesar
himself would have approved, the young fellows
mount over each other's backs, and the place is
carried in a moment. The landlord utters an
energetic protest from the window, but his
voice is lost, and himself forgotten, in the
tumult and enthusiasm, as the steamer sweeps
alongside the pier, and the general's open
carriage draws up to receive him.

There follows a remarkably long pause. The
cheering languishes a little. Why does he not
land?

"Il generale ha perduto il suo biglietto"——