burg, and this may perhaps have had some influence in deciding General Lee to recross the Potomac. Many were disappointed at this decision, as it had been the general opinion that the army was only waiting for fresh supplies to recommence offensive operations.

Again the rain came down in torrents, and the generals must have had an anxious time of it, as the Potomac was much swollen already, and there was but one pontoon bridge at the point where we crossed. However, all got over safely, and Meade did not capture a rearguard of two brigades, as he afterwards boasted he had done. There was, however, a furious attack made by some forty tipsy cavalry men upon the rearguard; and though they were entirely cut to pieces themselves, they killed General Pettigrew, and several soldiers. General Pettigrew, as they came tearing along with a Yankee battle-flag flying, had forbidden his men to fire at them, thinking it was a party of Confederates who had captured a Yankee flag; he could not conceive it possible that a squad of cavalry should attack his strong force.

The Yankee cavalry has not the credit of doing very dashing things, and at present the Confederate cavalry is also a little under a cloud. The cavalry have always artillery with them, and Longstreet says it is this which demoralises them. When two cavalry parties meet they do not fight themselves, but set their artillery to work at a game of long bowls.

I think the fact of the men owning their own horses is likely to make them more careful than they should be. If a man loses his horse and cannot buy another, he is transferred to the infantry, which of course he does not like. Besides, the perpetual raiding, and pouncing upon supply- trains and sutler's stores, though capital fun, does not conduce to make good soldiers.

We pitched our tents a mile or two south of where we had crossed

the river, and made ourselves comfortable. The army is in good spirits in spite of our own retreat and the bad news from the west. As for despondency, or being weary of resistance and of the war, which kind of feeling I see the Northerners are fond of attributing to the South, there are certainly no symptoms of it in this army. "We will fight them, sir, till h― freezes, and then, sir, we'll fight them on the ice," said an energetic officer to me; and the same sentiment seems to animate every one, though they do not all express themselves in such strong language.

The Southerners are of course not nearly so commercial a race as the Yankees, but still they are much given to trading" amongst each other; and the other day at an hospital in Gettysburg, an artilleryman whose leg was to be taken off, no sooner knew that the amputation was decided upon by the doctors, than he turned to another wounded man in the next bed, and before the operation was performed had "traded" the boot which was henceforth to be of no use to him.

The negroes in camp are a great study. Of course they are all slaves. They have a great horror of the Yankees, and when in Pennsylvania. could not be got to move a hundred yards from the camp for fear of being kidnapped, whilst here they delight in roaming about the country in search of poultry, eggs, fruit, and suchlike delicacies, for which they are excellent caterers. I heard of only a single instance of a servant being lost during the campaign, and his master was convinced that he had been stolen, and that he had not run off of his own free-will. Our excellent cook Jeff is a great character, and has arrived at the dignity of being an "uncle" on account of his mature age; whilst Andrew, a handsome lad of about twenty, who cleans my boots now and then, in fine weather, is a "boy," and will remain one till he is forty.

Jeff is a preacher, and holds re

ligious meetings with his fellowdarkies. They are very shy of white people coming to these meetings, and of course their masters let them alone, and do not intrude upon them. Lying in my tent one morning, I overheard Jeff lecturing Andrew for using profane language: Andrew, I hear you say 'byNow, Andrew, you know you've not money enough in your pocket to buy a bit of biscuit, and yet you say, by Andrew, you'll never go to heaven," &c. &c. And Andrew hung his head, and was ashamed of himself. They always call their masters and mistresses by their Christian names, whatever may be their rank and titles. General Lee, for instance, will never be anything but Master Robert to any of his servants. They have a strong sense of humour, and are always laughing at something or other. Sometimes their repartees are not bad. A few days ago I was in the tent of an officer who had just been promoted. His servant was making up his bed, and the officer told him to be sure and make it long enough. The The "boy" looked up and grinned. "S'pose, Master William, you'se not grown taller since you was major," he said. Their teeth are remarkably fine, and they are proud

of them, I suppose; at least they mostly wear a toothbrush very prominently stuck into their coat button-hole, as a dandy would carry a flower, or a Frenchman his ribbon of the Legion of Honour.

They are a very affectionate race, and the attachment they have for their masters is very like the clannish feeling which we read of as having existed formerly in the Highlands of Scotland between the lower classes and their chiefs. Whenever they have occasion for a surname, they make use of their master's. They display great contempt towards the poor "free niggers" in the towns, who are generally dirty and ragged. They look up to their masters for protection, which is readily given, not only as a matter of course to their own servants, but to any other "darkies" as occasion may require.

If any one in the South wished to make quite sure of getting into trouble, he need only abuse or illtreat a negro; and though the "boy" might be submissive, he would soon have every white man in the neighbourhood down upon him, and perhaps a revolver or two emptied into his body.

(To be continued.)

THERE were few busier diplomatists in Europe during these eventful days of Naples than Skeffington Damer; and if England had not her share of influence, it was no fault of his. He sent off special messengers every day. He wrote to F. O. in a cipher, of which it was said no one had the key; and he telegraphed in mystical language to the Admiral at Malta, which went far to persuade the gallant seaman that his correspondent was a maniac. He besieged the Court and the ministerial offices, and went home to receive deputations from the wildest leaders of the extreme democracy. He was determined, as he said, to "know the truth," and he surrounded himself for that purpose with a mass of inextricable perfidy and falsehood; and yet, with all these occupations, he passed his entire mornings with the Lyles, and dined with them every day.

It was a great pleasure, as Sir Arthur said, to be "behind the scenes;" and really the phrase did not ill represent their position, for they knew as much of what was going on upon the stage as people usually do who have only an occasional glimpse, and that from a wrong point of view. Sir Arthur, however, believed Skeffy to be the rising diplomatist, the embryo Talleyrand of Great Britain; and it was strange to see an old, crafty, casehardened man of the world listening with implicit trustfulness to the hare-brained speculations of a young fellow, whose solitary pretensions were, that he sent off his daily balderdash marked "On Her Majesty's Service," and sealed with the royal arms.

Lady Lyle only half believed in him; and as for Alice, she laughed

at, but liked him; while Bella gave him all her confidence, and admired him greatly. And a very nice thing it is of young ladies, and never to be too much commended, how they will hang on the words, and store up the sayings, and repeat the opinions of the man who prefers them. It is not exactly Love, no more than gooseberry-wine is champagne, but it effervesces and exhilarates, and I'm not sure if it does not agree very well with weak constitutions.

Now Skeffy told Bella every morning in the most mysterious manner how he had checkmated Bresson, the French Minister, and outwitted Caraffa and the Cardinal Riario. They never could make out whence he had his information. The Queen had spent a fortune in paying spies to watch him, but he out - manoeuvred them all. Nobody knew nobody ever could know the resources of his craft; and indeed, except Louis Napoleon, there was not a man in Europe had fathomed the depth of his astuteness. "I have to pretend," would he say, "to be a light, flippant, volatile creature, given up to pleasure, fond of play, of the ballet, and all that sort of thing. I let them hear every day of the sums I have lost at lansquenet, and the enormous extravagance of my daily life, but they don't know what goes on here," and he would tap his forehead; "they never suspect what plots and plans and machinations are at work within that brain they imagine to be abandoned to enjoyment. It will come out one of these days, dearest Bella; they'll know who did it' yet." And this was a very favourite phrase with him, and Bella caught it up, and talked of the people

who had not "done it," and never could "do it," and hinted at one whom an ignorant world would awake one morning to see had "done it," and "done it" to perfection.

To hear him talk, you would say that he rather liked the mistaken estimate the world had formed of him; that it was one of those excellent jokes whose point lay in a surprise; and what a surprise would that be one of these days when he came forth in his true character, the great political genius of Europe! Bella believed it all; not that she was deficient in common sense, or wanting in discernment; but she liked him-there was the secret. She had made her investment in a certain stock, and would persist in regarding it as a most profitable venture; and thus would they pass their mornings-a strange way to make love, perhaps ; but that passion, etherealise it how you may, trades on some one form or other of selfishness; and all these endearments were blended with the thought of how happy they should be when they were great people. Skeffy would bring with him, besides, a whole bagful of papers, despatches, and " private and confidentials," and suchlike, and make Bella copy out pages for him of that dreary trash, which, like a bad tapestry, has served no other purpose than to employ the small mind that devised it. And he would sit there, with his eyes closed, and dictate to her endless "brief glances" at the present aspect of the Italian question, till the poor girl was half worn out between the importance of her task and its weariness.

"What's that you are poring over, Bella?" he asked, as she read over a somewhat lengthy letter.

"It is the complaint of an Englishman at being detained by the authorities, first at Palermo and again here: he was a mere traveller, he asserts, and not in any way engaged in political schemes. He says that this is his fourth appeal

to you without an answer, and he declares that if this be not replied to he will address the Chief Secretary at home."

'Tell the fellow that a Damer is inaccessible to a menace; tell him that his stupid letter would be promptly referred back to me; and say that, so far as this peninsula is concerned, I am F. O., and to be propitiated by humility, and not outraged by a threat."

"But if it be really true-if the poor fellow should be imprisoned for nothing, Skeff?"

"If so I shall liberate him ;" and as he spoke he arose and walked the room with a haughty stride and a head erect. "Write

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SIR,-I am directed by H. M.'s Chargé d'Affaires'—or rather say The undersigned has to acknowledge the receipt of '-what's his name?"

"Samuel M'Gruder."

"What a name! 'of Samuel M'Gruder's letter; and although he takes exception to the passages marked A and B, and requires explanation of the paragraph C, beginning at the words, "nor can I, "and ending at, "British subject"You'll have to copy out the whole of his despatch, Bella, and then I shall mark the passages-where was I?"

"British subject." "Yes, I remember. Yet that, conceding much to the feelings' no, that is too familiar-making allowances for an irritability

"I don't think you can say that, Skeff. He has now been seven weeks in confinement."

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'Lucky dog that he has not been seven weeks worked almost to a skeleton, like me, with the cares of a whole nation on my head, and the eyes of Europe upon me."

"Just let me say that you will look into his case, and do your best to get him out of prison."

"With all my heart. It is fearfully undignified; but let it go, and I'll send off a messenger to the Prefetto Lanzi to deliver up the prison

er M'Gruder to me to-morrow morning, and we will interrogate him here."

The roll of a drum was now heard in the street without, and from the balcony could be seen an immense crowd of people moving in front of an infantry regiment, who marched past travel-stained and disordered, and with an indescribable something in their air that indicated, it might be defeat, it might be disaffection.

"Here's strange news," said Sir Arthur, as he joined them. "The landlord tells me Garibaldi has landed in Calabria, near Reggio, beaten the royal troops, and is in full march on Naples. The regiment that you see there were ordered off to reinforce the advanced guard, but cried out Vive Garibaldi!' and have been now recalled, and are to be sent into the fortress." "Look!" cried Skeff; "here comes the artillery after them, a strong proof that they don't trust these fellows. Bella, I must write off the news at once."

"Let me first finish about M'Gruder," said she, as she sat down to the table.

"I was just thinking the very same thing," said Sir Arthur.

"Have no fears," interposed Skeffy; "I shall order up the fleet from Malta. You shall have a frigate -a line-of-battle ship, if you like it better."

"I'd much rather we had posthorses and an escort," said Lady Lyle.

"Would that be possible, Damer?" "All is possible, Sir Arthur, to power properly exercised. I'll go down at once to the War-Office and see what can be done."

"If it were perfectly safe," said Bella," Ishould like to drive through the streets and see what is going on; and as Alice refuses to go out, we are just enough for one carriage." The project was agreed to, all the more readily that Skeff assured

them his presence was an ægis that all parties would know how to respect: he was, in fact, as he put it, a sort of emblematised British lion, who, with folded paws, was about to take an airing for his own amusement.

"As we drive along," whispered he to Bella, "just watch the recognitions fellows will throw me-a look, a gesture, a sign, scarcely perceptible, but enough to say, 'Your Excellency may depend upon us.""

And Bella felt a certain elation at the thought that she was the chosen one of a man so eminent and so distinguished. And oh dear, let us not be severe upon her for it! If we could not make occasional swans of our geese in this life, we should be very ill off in matters of ornithology. Away they drove down the Chiaja and up the Toledo, where, amidst wild yells and cries for the King, and at times for Garibaldi, a dense mass of people surged and swayed like a mighty monster awaking out of slumber and arousing to deeds of violence.

The populace seemed intoxicated, but not with wine or with joy, but a sort of dare-devil recklessness which sought something— anything-to vent its passion upon. Lines of men linked arm in arm, and filling the full breadth of the street, marched rapidly on, chanting wild songs; and it was strange to mark in these the old grey-headed feeble man coupled with the stalwart youth, or perhaps the mere boy. Here and there were groups listening to some street-orator, now greeting his words with a cheer, now with a burst of vociferous laughter; and through all these went other men, busily, eagerly, whispering to this, conferring with that, now exerting every effort of persuasiveness, now seeming to employ incentives to vengeance.

Except the carriage where sat the Lyles, not another vehicle of any kind was to be seen; and as the horses moved slowly along through the dense crowd, many a rude jest and droll comment was passed upon