bits and obedient conduct of a highly-organized
army.

As we neared the Azava, the tracks of the retiring enemy became gradually
less perceptible, and the country, uninjured by the march, extended for
miles around us in all the richness and abundance of a favored climate. The
tall corn, waving its yellow gold, reflected like a sea the clouds that
moved slowly above it. The wild gentian and the laurel grew thickly around,
and the cattle stood basking in the clear streams, while some listless
peasant lounged upon the bank beside them. Strange as all these evidences
of peace and tranquillity were, so near to the devastating track of a
mighty army, yet I have more than once witnessed the fact, and remarked
how, but a short distance from the line of our hurried march, the country
lay untouched and uninjured; and though the clank of arms and the dull roll
of the artillery may have struck upon the ear of the far-off dweller in his
native valley, he listened as he would have done to the passing thunder as
it crashed above him; and when the bright sky and pure air succeeded to
the lowering atmosphere and the darkening storm, he looked forth upon his
smiling fields and happy home, while he muttered to his heart a prayer of
thanksgiving that the scourge was passed.

We bivouacked upon the bank of the river, a truly Salvator Rosa scene;
the rocks, towering high above us, were fissured by the channel of many a
trickling stream, seeking, in its zigzag current, the bright river below.
The dark pine-tree and the oak mingled their foliage with the graceful
cedar, which spread its fan-like branches about us. Through the thick shade
some occasional glimpses of a starry sky could yet be seen, and a faint
yellow streak upon the silent river told that the queen of night was there.

When I had eaten my frugal supper, I wandered forth alone upon the bank
of the stream, now standing to watch its bold sweeps as it traversed the
lonely valley before me, now turning to catch a passing glance at our
red watch-fires and the hardy features which sat around. The hoarse and
careless laugh, the deep-toned voice of some old campaigner holding forth
his tale of flood and field, were the only sounds I heard; and gradually I
strolled beyond the reach of even these. The path beside the river, which
seemed scarped from the rock, was barely sufficient for the passage of
one man, a rude balustrade of wood being the only defence against the
precipice, which, fr