procured him the title of II Rosso—entered
also.

The execution done by our two thousand
shells was not considerable. We had killed
one man, and wounded four. They had
been ordered to hold out six days, and the
fourth day had arrived, when the garrison, who
dwelt day and night in the cellarage—perhaps
driven to madness by the perpetual contemplation
of the wine—mutinied, and drank up the
whole. After this there remained no alternative,
so the commandant surrendered. A salute
was fired, and we were proceeding to other
demonstrations of joy, when a message from the
general suggested that they should be deferred
to a worthier occasion, and ordered that the
Garibaldi Hymn should not be played, nor any other
offence offered to the feelings of the prisoners,
who were complimented on their gallant
defence.

We were very jolly this evening. We had
established a sort of mess, presided over by our
friend Major W., on whom we chiefly relied
for warning of the "something" that was
constantly going to happen, but didn't. Upon the
West-end journal—who was, we noticed with
regret, the slave of sensual appetites, liked
pepper with his omelette, and was particular
about having his bacon dressed—devolved the
duty of obtaining provision; "Il Rosso," who
had a head for finance, kept the accounts—
which would never come right; and the Popular
One rose to the climax of popularity by
suddenly, without a word of preparation,
producing a huge packet of Russian tea.

Things really did look promising now.
Something was coming. The capture of Ampola had
opened the road to Riva; but would Garibaldi
be satisfied with thus turning the fort of Ladaro,
on the other road, and leave it untaken in his
rear?

From head-quarters it was reported that the
general was in higher spirits than he had been
for days; that he had issued numerous orders, and
would transfer his head-quarters to-morrow, at
his favourite hour of three, to Tiarno di Sopra,
which, with its sister village, Tiarno di Sotto,
were situated five or six miles on the road
to Riva. It was known that, at this latter
place, the Austrians were posted very strongly;
also, that they had considerable forces out upon
the mountains, where, familiar with every yard
of ground, they were no doubt preparing to
render our march to Riva anything but a
peaceful promenade.

Among the Garibaldian officers who visited
us in the course of the evening, was the gallant
Chiassi, colonel of the Fifth Regiment: a fine
body, more than four thousand strong, and eager
for fight. Chiassi was an intimate friend of my
brother's, whom he had visited in England;
he remained chatting with us until duty
summoned him away to head the march from which
he was never to return.

We now ascertained that a flying column,
under his command, was to move at once on
Riva, It was composed of six companies of his
own regiment, with two battalions of the
Seventh, and was to be followed by detachments
of the Second and the Ninth (Menotti's). The
column marched in high spirits, threading the
beautiful vale of Ledro, when, while entering a
village, without precautions, at about four in the
morning, their band playing, they were suddenly
attacked by a force from Riva, estimated at eight
thousand, with guns and rockets. The Austrians,
occupying the houses, opened a withering fire,
and threw the column into irremediable
disorder. Nevertheless, they retreated fighting,
though with the loss of some of their chief
officers and many men. Castillini was slain.
The majors Pessina and Martinelli were severely
wounded: the latter, in a deplorable state,
remaining in the enemy's hands. Poor Chiassi
did all that heroic courage could, to show a
front to the overwhelming foe. With a sort of
presentiment, he had, when the action began,
taken the decoration from his breast, and
entrusted it to his aide-de-camp, saying:

"This is likely to be a serious business."

While rallying the men, a ball struck him in
the side. He was raised up by his aide,
assisted by a soldier and a peasant; but, before
they had moved many paces, a bullet
mortally wounded the soldier, and another so much
disabled the aide that he was compelled to
quit his hold. Chiassi, who was dying, fell
into the hands of the enemy, who robbed him of
his watch and purse. An hour and a half later
his body was recovered, in a bayonet charge,
and brought to Garibaldi, who could not restrain
his emotion.

"He died as he lived—a hero," said the general.
"It is a beautiful and a glorious end!"

The gallant conduct of the Ninth, under
Menotti, to whom great praise is due, enabled
the broken troops to regain some order.
Ricciotti, in the uniform of a simple private of the
Guides, evinced great bravery in this, his first
battle; and both the martial brothers had their
horses killed under them. The Fifth Regiment
lost five hundred prisoners; but three hundred
of these escaped under a heavy fire, and such
as were unscathed rejoined the remnant of their
corps.

By the time that Garibaldi—informed of what
was passing—arrived at the scene of action, the
enemy had occupied Bezzecca, and were threatening
Tiarno di Sotto. The firing was warm. One
of the general's escort of Guides had his thigh
broken by a fragment of shell; another had his
horse killed. The presence of the chief restored
some confidence, but there was still much
disorder, and, at the moment when I and my friend
of the West-end journal reached Tiarno, there
were symptoms of impending disaster. We
were told that the enemy were entering the
village. Numbers were hurrying to the rear;
many wounded were coming in; and the fact that
each of these last was attended by five, six, or
seven, sound men, seemed to indicate that affairs
in front were not going as smoothly as could be
wished. Officers and Guides galloped to and
fro, shouting, encouraging, exhorting: