The place is a compact walled town, crowned by the dome of a
large and handsome church, and situated in a plain by the side of the
Volturno. Though, contrary to expectation, there is no firing to-day, we
see all about us the havoc of previous cannonadings. The houses we pass
are riddled with round shot thrown by the besieged, and the ground is
strewn with the limbs of trees severed by iron missiles. But where is
Garibaldi? No one knows. Yonder, however, is a lofty hill, and upon its
summit we descry three or four persons. It is there, we are told, that
the Commander-in-Chief goes to observe the enemy, and among the forms we
see is very probably the one we seek.

We have just got into our carriage again, and are debating as to whither
we shall go next, when we are addressed from the road-side in English.
There, dressed in the red shirt, are three young men, all not far from
twenty years of age, members of the British regiment of "Excursionists."
They are out foraging for their mess, and ask a ride with us to Santa
Maria. We are only too glad of their company; and off we start, a
carriage-full. Then commences a running fire of question and response.
We find the society of our companions a valuable acquisition. They are
from London,--young men of education, and full of enthusiasm for
the cause of Italian liberty. One of them is a connection of our
distinguished countrywoman, Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Before going to
Santa Maria, they insist on doing the honors, and showing the objects
of interest the vicinity. So they take us to their barrack, a large
farm-house, and thence to "the front." To the latter spot our coachman
declines driving, as his horses are not bullet-proof, and the enemy is
not warranted to abstain from firing during our visit. So, proceeding on
foot, we reach a low breastwork of sand-bags, with an orchard in advance
of it. Here, our companions tell us, was the scene of yesterday's
skirmish, in which they took an active part. The enemy had thrown out a
detachment of sharp-shooters, who had entered the wood, and approached
the breastwork. A battalion of the English Volunteers was ordered up. As
they marched eagerly forwards, a body of Piedmontese, stationed a little
from the road, shouted, "_Vivano gl' Inglesi! Vivano gl' Inglesi!_"
At the breastworks where we are standing, the word was given to break
ranks, and skirmish. Instantly they sprang over the wall, and took
position behind the trees, to shoot "w