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yrlIE INDIAN ADVOCATE.
days at homo. For some time the solu
tion of this affair has seemed to be
approaching. The Garibaldians wish
to come out, but evidently are in no
hurry. Were they to come immediately,
all would bo at an end; and each one
could return home. These gentlemen
undoubtedly fear us."
The Garibaldians feared, indeed,
those defenders of the Popacy, and, to
overthrow them, resorted to shameful
means. The history of that epoch is
filled with their attempts to assassinate
isolated soldiers. And to these attempts
they added infernal machinations; as,
the blowing up of the Soristery-barracks,
which buried beneath their ruins almost
the whole of the Zouave band.
"Death to such cowards!" cried out
Julius, "they murder you on the street
corners, as they would vile beasts."
This war of ambuscades, surprises, and
treachery , so repugnant to French
valor, rendered our young volunteers
indignant. "A buttle in the bright
sun-light would be a feast;" wrote
Theodore Wibanse, "wore they ten to
our one, wo would gladly encounter
thorn; but within the walls of a large
city, under cover of the darkness, one's
heart, notwithstanding its bravery, fools
Upon hearing of the arrival of new
volunteers, in a letter to his parents,
Julius said, "Tell them that if they
wish to enjoy the wifddinij-fcast, they
must hasten. Preparations have been
going on for some time, and the feast
will be magnificent. Till wo meet
again, a thousand apologies, dear par
ents, for the pain I have caused you."
And, as if to soften these last linos, in
a postscript he adds: "Something tells
me that I will see you again."
The expectation of facing death at
any momont, kept this Zouave in the
gravo thought of religion. There is
nothing more beautiful than the tone
of this truly Christian soldier's letters.
"Do you know," ho writes, "that we
never sloop without a pure conscience;
for our situation is such that wo hourly
expect to bo killed: Would you not
like to hear of your son dying in a
battle, where wo would be one against
forty? What death more beautiful than
to die for God in the person of His
Vicar? Ah! then, do not weep, I pray
you, but rather have a Tc Dcum sung;
for if I die, it will be as a martyr."
The hour of sacrifice was at hand.
On the 27th of October, Garibaldi occu
pied the two small cities of Montana
and Monte Rotondo; it might therefore
reasonably be expected to sec him at
any time under the walls of Rome.
Time, however, was not left him; the
French auxiliary troops, headed by
General do Failly, was about to land
in Civita Vicchia,' and on the night of
the 2nd of November, the small Ponti
fical army, strengthened by this body,
advanced to meet the enemy,
The tricolored flag fluttered by the
side of the Papal colors; for then, as in
the beautiful days of her history, France
held in her hand the sword of God.
While the French formed the reserve,
the Zouaves formed the vanguard; be
cause it was but just that these young
heroes, so long alone in the strife,
should now be first in honor. "We
advance," writes one of the actors of
that scene, like Ilenguenet, a former
student of St. Bertin's, "singing the
song of Battalion." The conflict was
begun without any satisfactory result.
When, however, General de la Ohar
rette, arriving in the midst of leaden
balls, cried out: "Removo that, my
friends, at the point of your bayonets,"
and urged his horse to the front, each
man instantly dropped his sack, and
rushed upon the enemy. It was a liv
ing water-spout, not to be rosisted; tho
Garibaldians, completely routed, fled to
Montana. Ilenguonot, though he had
suffered several wounds, was not tho
least ardent to pursue thorn; he had
recognized tho chiof oLtho sacrilogious