. They made a breach in
the wall, but it was immediately filled up with a barricade, and all
the week they have been repulsed in every attempt they made to gain
ground, though with considerable loss of life on our side; on theirs
it must be great, but how great we cannot know.

Ponte Molle, the scene of Raphael's fresco of a battle, in the
Vatican, saw again a fierce struggle last Friday. More than fifty were
brought wounded into Rome.

But wounds and assaults only fire more and more the courage of her
defenders. They feel the justice of their cause, and the peculiar
iniquity of this aggression. In proportion as there seems little aid
to be hoped from man, they seem to claim it from God. The noblest
sentiments are heard from every lip, and, thus far, their acts amply
correspond.

On the eve of the bombardment one or two officers went round with
a fine band. It played on the piazzas the Marseillaise and Roman
marches; and when the people were thus assembled, they were told
of the proclamation, and asked how they felt. Many shouted loudly,
_Guerra! Viva la Republica Romana!_ Afterward, bands of young men went
round singing the chorus,

"Vogliamo sempre quella,
Vogliamo Liberta."

("We want always one thing; we want liberty.") Guitars played, and
some danced. When the bombs began to come, one of the Trasteverini,
those noble images of the old Roman race, redeemed her claim to that
descent by seizing a bomb and extinguishing the match. She received a
medal and a reward in money. A soldier did the same thing at Palazza
Spada, where is the statue of Pompey, at whose base great Caesar fell.
He was promoted. Immediately the people were seized with emulation;
armed with pans of wet clay, they ran wherever the bombs fell, to
extinguish them. Women collect the balls from the hostile cannon, and
carry them to ours. As thus very little injury has been done to life,
the people cry, "Madonna protects us against the bombs; she wills not
that Rome should be destroyed."

Meanwhile many poor people are driven from their homes, and provisions
are growing very dear. The heats are now terrible for us, and must be
far more so for the French. It is said a vast number are ill of fever;
indeed, it cannot be otherwise. Oudinot himself has it, and perhaps
this is one explanation of the mixture of violence and weakness in his
actions.

He must be deeply ashamed at the poor result of his bad acts,--that at
the end of two weeks and so