tning, we fell in with some battalion or squadron, which advanced
carefully, as it was impossible for them as well as for us to
discriminate between the road and the ditches which flank it, for all the
landmarks, so familiar to our guides in the daytime, were in one dead
level of blackness. So it was that my companion and myself, after
stumbling into ditches and out of them, after knocking our horses' heads
against an ammunition car, or a party of soldiers sheltered under some
big tree, found ourselves, after three hours' ride, in this village of
Dolo. By this time the storm had greatly abated in its violence, and the
thunder was but faintly heard now and then at such a distance as to
enable us distinctly to hear the roar of the guns. Our horses could
scarcely get through the sticky black mud, into which the white
suffocating dust of the previous days had been turned by one night's
rain. We, however, made our way to the parsonage of the village, for we
had already made up our minds to ascend the steeple of the church to get
a view of the surrounding country and a better hearing of the guns if
possible. After a few words exchanged with the sexton--a staunch Italian,
as he told us he was--we went up the ladder of the church spire. Once on
the wooden platform, we could hear more distinctly the boom of the guns,
which sounded like the broadsides of a big vessel. Were they the guns of
Persano's long inactive fleet attacking some of Brondolo's or Chioggia's
advanced forts? Were the guns those of some Austrian man-of-war which had
engaged an Italian ironclad; or were they the 'Affondatore,' which left
the Thames only a month ago, pitching into Trieste? To tell the truth,
although we patiently waited two long hours on Dolo church spire, when
both I and my companion descended we were not in a position to solve
either of these problems. We, however, thought then, and still think,
they were the guns of the Italian fleet which had attacked an Austrian
fort.

CIVITA VECCHIA, July 22, 1866.

Since the departure from this port of the old hospital ship 'Gregeois'
about a year ago, no French ship of war had been stationed at Civita
Vecchia; but on Wednesday morning the steam-sloop 'Catinat,' 180 men,
cast anchor in the harbour, and the commandant immediately on
disembarking took the train for Rome and placed himself in communication
with the French ambassador. I am not aware whether the Pontifical
government had applied for this vessel