While they are skipping and screaming, and dancing their caps on the
    points of
  Swords and bayonets, I to the outskirts back, and ask a
  Mercantile-seeming bystander, “What is it?” and he, looking always
  That way, makes me answer, “A Priest, who was trying to fly to
  The Neapolitan army,”—­and thus explains the proceeding.

  You didn’t see the dead man?  No;—­I began to be doubtful;
  I was in black myself, and didn’t know what mightn’t happen;—­
  But a National Guard close by me, outside of the hubbub,
  Broke his sword with slashing a broad hat covered with dust,—­and
  Passing away from the place with Murray under my arm, and
  Stooping, I saw through the legs of the people the legs of a body.

  You are the first, do you know, to whom I have mentioned the matter. 
  Whom should I tell it to, else?—­these girls?—­the Heavens forbid it!—­
  Quidnuncs at Monaldini’s?—­idlers upon the Pincian?

  If I rightly remember, it happened on that afternoon when
  Word of the nearer approach of a new Neapolitan army
  First was spread.  I began to bethink me of Paris Septembers,
  Thought I could fancy the look of the old ’Ninety-two.  On that evening,
  Three or four, or, it may be, five, of these people were slaughtered. 
  Some declare they had, one of them, fired on a sentinel; others
  Say they were only escaping; a Priest, it is currently stated,
  Stabbed a National Guard on the very Piazza Colonna: 
  History, Rumor of Rumors, I leave it to thee to determine!

  But I am thankful to say the government seems to have strength to
  Put it down; it has vanished, at least; the place is now peaceful. 
  Through the Trastevere walking last night, at nine of the clock, I
  Found no sort of disorder; I crossed by the Island-bridges,
  So by the narrow streets to the Ponte Rotto, and onwards
  Thence, by the Temple of Vesta, away to the great Coliseum,
  Which at the full of the moon is an object worthy a visit.

VIII.--GEORGINA TREVELLYN TO LOUISA ------.

Only think, dearest Louisa, what fearful scenes we have witnessed!—­

* * * * *

George has just seen Garibaldi, dressed up in a long white cloak, on
Horseback, riding by, with his mounted negro behind him: 
This is a man, you know, who came from America with him,
Out of the woods, I suppose, and uses a lasso in fighting,
Which is, I don’t quite know, but a sort of noose, I imagine;
This he throws on the heads of the enemy’s men in a battle,
Pulls them into his reach, and then most cruelly kills them: 
Mary does not believe, but we heard it from an Italian.

  Mary allows she was wrong about Mr. Claude being selfish;
  He was most useful and kind on the terrible thirtieth of April.

  Do not write here any more; we are starting directly for Florence: 
  We should be off to-morrow, if only Papa could get horses;
  All have been seized everywhere for the use of this dreadful Mazzini.