GARIBALDI AT POMPEII.

It is Sunday, the 21st of October.  We have to-day observed the people, in the worst quarters of the city as well as in the best, casting their ballots in an orderly and quiet manner, under the supervision of the National Guard, for Victor Emmanuel as their ruler.  To-morrow we have set apart for exploring Pompeii, little dreaming what awaits us there.  Our friend, General J—­n, of the British Army, learning that there is no likelihood of active operations at “the front,” proposes to join us in our excursion.

We are seated in the restaurant at the foot of the acclivity which leads to the exhumed city, when suddenly Antonio appears and exclaims, “Garibaldi!” We look in the direction he indicates, and, in an avenue leading from the railway, we behold the Patriot-Soldier of Italy advancing toward us, accompanied by the Countess Pallavicini, the wife of the Prodictator of Naples, and attended by General Turr, with several others of his staff.  We go out to meet them.  General J—­n, a warm admirer of Garibaldi, gives him a cordial greeting, and presents us as an American.  We say a few words expressive of the sympathy entertained by the American people for the cause of Italy and its apostle.  He whom we thus address, in his reply, professes his happiness in enjoying the good wishes of Americans, and, gracefully turning to our friend, adds, “I am grateful also for the sympathy of the English.”  The party then pass on, and we are left with the glowing thought that we have grasped the hand of Garibaldi.

Half an hour later, we are absorbed in examining one of the structures of what was once Pompeii, when suddenly we hear martial music.  We follow the direction of the sound, and presently find ourselves in the ancient forum.  In the centre of the inclosure is a military band playing the “Hymn of Garibaldi”; while at its northern extremity, standing, facing us, between the columns of the temple of Jupiter, with full effect given to the majesty of his bearing, is Garibaldi.  Moved by the strikingly contrasting associations of the time and the place, we turn to General J—­n, saying, “Behold around us the symbols of the death of Italy, and there the harbinger of its resurrection.”  Our companion, fired with a like enthusiasm, immediately advances to the base of the temple, and, removing his hat, repeats the words in the presence of those there assembled.

GARIBALDI AT “THE FRONT.”

Once again we look in the eye of this wonderful man, and take him by the hand.  This time it is at “the front.”  On Saturday, the 27th of October, we are preparing to leave Naples for Rome by the afternoon boat, when we receive a message from General J—­n that the bombardment of Capua is to begin on the following day at ten o’clock, and inviting us to join his party to the camp.  Accordingly, postponing our departure for the North, we get together a few surgical instruments, and take a military train upon the railway in the afternoon for the field of action.