his first arms" under him. The scene in which
the altercation occurred was a stormy one, and
ended by Scarselli placing two sentries over
Cesare's door, and despatching, as he said, an
orderly to General Garibaldi for instructions.

The next morning, when we mustered, it was
found Cesare had escaped -— got away, it was said,
in the night, and taken to the mountains. It
was only within the last few days that I found
out the truth, and then through a paragraph in
a newspaper. Scarselli, knowing that Cesare had
served in the Piemonte Reale Regiment, thought
or hoped, though he had long quitted the service,
that he would be still treated as a deserter. He
therefore bribed two peasants, under pretence
of assisting him to escape, to conduct him to
General Mella's head-quarters. In the
attempt to destroy, he probably saved his life, for
being liberated on parole, he was obliged to
return to his family at Bergamo, where he is,
this moment, in security, and I hope health.

As for myself, I submitted with the best
grace I could, and, next day, mounted guard
over my Hebrew friend. While he sat at dinner,
I comforted myself that we would soon be up
with the main body, and my troubles ended.

Instead of marching on Aderno, however, we
continued more to the south, following the last
steps of the mountain chain that descend from
Castro, making very short marches, and frequent
drills. At length-— it was on the evening of
the seventeenth, I think, just as we were
cooking supper—- a mounted orderly rode into camp.
He was heated and tired, but he merely stopped
to give his orders, and rode on his way. The
drum beat the assembly, and we fell in hastily.
The orders were to march at once for Catania,
where the General then was. He had, by giving
a false initiative with Menotti's force, drawn off
the royal army towards Messina, and then,
taking the opportunity, dashed at once down
and entered Catania.

IV. THE CHURCH TOWER AT CATANIA.

I HAD not much time to admire the beauties
of Catania, if it have any. I only remember
some narrow tumble-down streets, with a very
noisy population, waving flags and
handkerchiefs from the windows. A great piazza, with
a quaint old house at one side, with two marble
beasts—- lions or leopards—- at the door, and a
heavy stone balcony over them, on which were
standing a number of men in red shirts, but
whose appearance bespoke them to be officers.
They were, in fact, General Garibaldi's staff,
that being his head-quarters. I had only a
glance at all this, for we were marched straight
to a Capuchin convent, in the court and
corridors of which we were to be lodged for the
night. Neither my companions nor their fare
had made me very enthusiastic as to the
enterprise; and although all around me was zeal for
the cause, and noisy manifestation of devotion,
I sat brooding sadly in a corner of a little crypt,
and wondering how and why I had ever come
there. Some black bread and onions, and a very
diminutive measure of the sourest wine in the
world, were now served to us as rations; but,
sweetened by hunger, and that uproar which
really my comrades seemed to think a perfect
boon from Heaven, the food was eaten, and
the banqueters, throwing themselves down, soon,
fell off to sleep.

Resolving to keep awake-— for I had some
Napoleons about me and a watch, temptations
to which I thought my companions ought not
to be exposed-— I lighted a cigar, and
composed myself for a quiet retrospect.

"Who smokes such good tobacco?" cried a
voice from a short distance. " There must be
a gentleman amongst us, for that is a real
Cuban."

I saw a thin weazen-faced little fellow scanning
me through an eye-glass-— a piece of curiosity
which none around him shared in, for they slept
on unmindful of us both.

"If you'll come over here," said I, "I have
another like this at your service."

He did not wait for a second invitation, and
was seated at my side in an instant.

"How is it that your face is so familiar to
me?" asked I of him.

"Of course you know me" said he; " and I
know you. Your box at the Opera is the next
to the 'scene,' and though you generally are
moving about, I have seen you often in it."

"And you-— where is yours?"

"Mine," said he, laughing, " is wherever the
piece requires me. I am the baritone
Bianciardi."

"So you are. I remember you perfectly now:
and what induced you to come here?"

"Why not? The low notes were beginning
to go—- all the upper ones gone many a day!  As
well die of a bullet as sink into the chorus.
Besides, if we do go to Rome, we, who can write,
read, and know music, must get high office. I
count upon something snug, I assure you. But
what in the name of wonder brought you here?"

"The cause!" said I. " The holy cause of
Italy, and the noble cry of Rome or Death!"

"Noble fiddlestick! Signor Principe," said he.
"It's all very well for these creatures here to be
patriots, but you, whose father has vines and
olives, and poderes of maize and wheat, with
palaces in town and villas in the country, how
are you to grow any better for all this marching
and starving? It is more likely we shall think
you are too rich one of these days, than not rich
enough—- there may be another act of the great
national drama! Mazzini tells us that all we
are doing now is only a stage on the journey, or,
as he calls it, a ' mezzo termine'."

"Listen to Garibaldi, my friend, and not to
Mazzini," said I.

"Ah! You know the General?"

"No. Never saw him."

"Per bacco—- how strange! Well, I'll
present you. I'm rather a favourite of his. I'm an
adept at the bugle, and have taught his
Bersaglieri fellows all the 'calls' and invented a few
new ones of my own. I'll go with you in the
morning, and make you known to him."