herever they saw a head." Each
soldier had his "covering man,"--a comrade stationed about ten feet
behind him, whose duty it was to keep his own piece charged ready to
kill any of the enemy who might attempt to pick off the leading man
while the latter was loading. One of my young friends had the hammer of
his rifle shot off in his hand. He kept his position till another weapon
was passed out to him. The action lasted till evening, when the enemy
drew off, there being various and uncertain reports as to their loss.
Our British cousins had some ten wounded, besides the one killed.
Fighting royalists, we will mention here, was no fancy-work about that
time, as the Neapolitans had an ugly trick of extinguishing the eyes of
their prisoners, and then putting their victims to death.

We return to our carriage, drive into a sheltered spot, and give the
word of command to Antonio to open the hamper and deploy his supplies,
when hungry soldiers vie with the ravenous traveller in a knife-and-fork
skirmish. No fault was found with the _cuisine_ of the Hotel de Grande
Bretagne.

The rations disposed of, we set off again for Santa Maria. Arrived at
the village, at the request of our companions, we visit with them a
hospital, to see one of their comrades, wounded in the action of the
preceding day, and, as we are known to profess the healing art, to give
our opinion as to his condition. We enter a large court-yard surrounded
with farm-buildings, one wing of which is devoted to hospital purposes.
We find the wards clean and well ventilated, and wearing the look of
being well attended. This favorable condition is owing in great measure
to the interposition and supervision of several ladies, among whom are
specially mentioned the two daughters of an English clergyman, without
omitting the name of the Countess della Torres. The wounded comrade of
our friends had been struck by a ball, which had not been readied by the
probe, and was supposed to have entered the lung. The poor young fellow
draws his rapid breath with much pain, but is full of pluck, and meets
the encouraging assurances of his friends with a smile and words of
fortitude. Some time afterwards we learn that he is convalescent, though
in a disabled state.

It now becomes necessary to say our mutual farewells, which we do as
cordially as though we had been old friends. We go our respective ways,
to meet once more in Italy, and to renew our acquaintance again in
London, wher