,
but he still shook his head in negative. 'Is he dying?' asked one,
making a gesture to indicate lying down. Peter assented. 'Oh, then it
is the _unzione estrema_ he wants!' 'That's it,' cried Peter,
joyfully--'unzione it is.' Two priests were speedily found and
despatched; and I awoke out of a sound sleep under a tree to see three
lighted candles on each side of me, and two priests in full vestments
standing at my feet and gabbling away in a droning sort of voice,
while Peter blubbered and wrung his hands unceasingly. A jolly burst
of laughter from me soon dispelled the whole illusion, and Peter had to
hide himself for shame for a week after."

"What became of the fellow--was he killed in the campaign?"

"Killed! nothing of the kind; he rose to be an officer, served on
Nullo's staff, and is at this very hour in Poland, and, if I mistake
not, a major."

"Men of this stamp make occasionally great careers," said I, carelessly.

"No, sir," replied he, very gravely. "To do anything really brilliant,
the adventurer must have been a gentleman at one time or other: the
common fellow stops short at petty larcenies; the man of good blood
always goes in for the mint."

"There was, then," asked I, "a good deal of what the Yankees call
'pocketing' in that campaign of Garibaldi's?"

"Less than one might suppose. Have you not occasionally seen men at a
dinner-party pass this and refuse that, waiting for the haunch, or the
pheasant, or the blackcock that they are certain is coming, when all
of a sudden the jellies and ices make their appearance, and the curtain
falls? So it was with many of us; we were all waiting for Rome, and
licking our lips for the Vatican and the Cardinals' palaces, when in
came the Piedmontese and finished the entertainment. If I meet you here
to-morrow, I can tell you more about this;" and so saying he arose, gave
me an easy nod, and strolled away.

"Who is that most agreeable gentleman who took his coffee with me?"
asked I of the waiter as I entered the _salle_.

"It's the Generale Inglese, who served with Garibaldi."

"And his name?"

"Ah, _per bacco!_ I never heard his name--Garibaldi calls him Giorgio,
and the ladies who call here to take him out to drive now and then
always say Giorgino--not that he's so very small, for all that."

My Garibaldian friend failed in his appointment with me this morning.
We were to have gone together to a gallery, or a collection of ancient
armour, or something