ll arrive in Cremona to-day. No precise
information is to be obtained respecting the intentions of the
Austrians, but it is to be hoped for the Italian army, and for the
credit of its generals, that more will be known about them now than was
known on the eve of the famous 24th of June, and on its very morning.
The heroism of the Italians on that memorable day surpasses any possible
idea that can be formed, as it did also surpass all expectations of the
country. Let me relate you a few out of many heroic facts which only
come to light when an occasion is had of speaking with those who
have been eyewitnesses of them, as they are no object of magnified
regimental--orders or, as yet, of well-deserved honours. Italian
soldiers seem to think that the army only did its duty, and that,
wherever Italians may fight, they will always show equal valour and
firmness. Captain Biraghi, of Milan, belonging to the general staff,
having in the midst of the battle received an order from General
Lamarmora for General Durando, was proceeding with all possible speed
towards the first army corps, which was slowly retreating before the
superior forces of the enemy and before the greatly superior number of
his guns, when, while under a perfect shower of grape and canister, he
was all of a sudden confronted by, an Austrian officer of cavalry who
had been lying in wait for the Italian orderly. The Austrian fires his
revolver at Biraghi; and wounds him in the arm. Nothing daunted,
Biraghi assails him and makes him turn tail; then, following in pursuit,
unsaddles him, but has his own horse shot down under him. Biraghi
disentangles himself, kills his antagonist, and jumps upon the latter's
horse. This, however, is thrown down also in a moment by a cannon ball,
so that the gallant captain has to go back on foot, bleeding, and
almost unable to walk. Talking of heroism, of inimitable endurance, and
strength of soul, what do you think of a man who has his arm entirely
carried away by a grenade, and yet keeps on his horse, firm as a
rock, and still directs his battery until hemorrhage--and hemorrhage
alone--strikes him down at last, dead! Such was the case with a
Neapolitan--Major Abate, of the artillery--and his name is worth the
glory of a whole army, of a whole war; and may only find a fit companion
in that of an officer of the eighteenth battalion of bersaglieri, who,
dashing at an Austrian flag-bearer, wrenches the standard out of his
hands with his