"Next? why no money, no brandy," replied Anzani. The Indian had calculated rightly. The five or six glasses of brandy he had swallowed had restored the courage which the leonine glance of Anzani had damped. "Some aqua guardiente!" said he, laying his hand upon one of his pistols, some aqua guardiente! or I will kill you."

Anzani, who expected the thing would finish so, was ready. He was a man of about five feet nine inches, of prodigious strength and great activity. He laid his right hand upon the counter, sprang over it, and came down with all his weight upon the Indian, seizing before he had time to cock his pistol, the right wrist of his adversary with his left hand. The Indian could not stand against the shock, but fell backwards. Anzani fell upon him, placing his knee upon his breast. Then keeping with his left hand the right of the Indian in a line which rendered his weapon inoffensive, with the other hand Anzani drew from his belt the pistols and poniard, which he threw into the magazine; he then forced the pistol from his hand, took it by the barrel, and beat him about the face with the butt, with all his strength; and when, at length, to use the terms of the art, he thought the Indian had had enough, he got up, and kicking him with all his might out of doors, he rolled him to the kennel, in the middle of which he left him.

In short, the Indian had enough. He got away as well as he could, and never afterwards made his appearance in St. Gabriel.

Anzani had made, under another name than his own -under that of Ferrari-war in Portugal: under that name he had behaved admirably; under that name he had acquired the rank of captain; under that name he had received two serious wounds, one on the head and the other in the chest-so serious, indeed, that at the age of sixty, he died of one of them.

The wound in the head was a sabre-cut, which had opened his skull; that of the breast was a ball, which

remained in his lungs, and which at length ended in a pulmonary phthisis. When any one spoke to Anzani of the marvels of courage he had accomplished under the name of Ferrari, he would smile and maintain that that Ferrari and he were two different men. Unfortunately, poor Anzani, when he put off his exploits upon the imaginary being he had created, could not, at the same time, get rid of his wounds.

Such was the man of whom I had heard, such was the man I was anxious to know, and whom I wished to make my friend. At St. Gabriel, I learnt he had gone upon business to a distance of about sixty miles. I made my enquiries, and mounted on horseback to go and meet him. On my route, upon the bank of a river, I found a man stript and washing his shirt. I understood at once that that was the man I was seeking.

I went up to him, held out my hand, and told him my name. From that moment we were brothers. He was no longer, then, in his commercial house; but like myself, had entered the service of the republic of Rio-Grande. He commanded the infantry of the division Juan Antonio, one of the most renowned republican leaders. Like myself, moreover, he was quitting the service and directing his course al salto.

After a day passed together, we exchanged our respective addresses, and agreed that we would undertake nothing important without communicating with each other.

Let me be permitted a detail which will make known our want and our fraternity.

Anzani had but one shirt, but he had two pairs of

trowsers.

I was as poor as he with regard to shirts, whilst he was one pair of trowsers richer than I was.

We slept beneath the same roof, but Anzani departed before daybreak, without disturbing me. When I awoke, I found upon my bed the better of his two pairs of trowsers.

I had seen Anzani but once; but Anzani was a man

of whom an opinion could be formed at first sight; therefore when I took service under the republic of Montevideo, and was charged with the organization of the Italian legion, my first care was to write to Anzani to come and share that labour with me. He came, and we never parted till the day when, touching the shores of Italy, he died almost in my arms.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS AND COMMERCIAL AGENT.

I ALIGHTED at Montevideo at the house of one of my friends, named Napoleon Castellini. I owe too much to the kindness of himself and his wife to be ever able to acquit myself otherwise than by the expression of my gratitude and so with my other beloved G. B. Cameo -that friend of my life—and the brothers Antonini and Giovanni Risso.

The few crowns arising from the sale of my hides being spent, in order that my wife and child should not be a burden to my friends, I undertook two trades, which I must confess together scarcely sufficed for the supply of my wants. The first was that of a commercial agent. I carried samples of all kinds about me, from Italian paste to Rouen stuffs.

The second was that of professor of mathematics in the house of the estimable M. Paolo Semidei. And this kind of life I led till I entered the Oriental Legion.

The question of Rio Grande began to be established and settled. I had no more to look for in that quarter. The Oriental Republic,-for so was the republic of Montevideo called,-learning I was at liberty, immediately offered me pay more in harmony with my means, and still more with my character, than what I could procure by teaching mathematics or hawking patterns.

They offered me and I accepted the command of the

corvette La Constitution. The Oriental squadron was under the command of Colonel Cosse; that of Buenos Ayres, was under General Brown. Several rencontres and several fights had taken place between the two squadrons, but without decisive results.

This

About the same time, a certain Vidal, of sad memory, was charged with the general administration of the Republic. One of the first and the most deplorable acts of this man was to get rid of the squadron, which he said was too burdensome to the State. squadron, which had cost the Republic immense sums, and which, if kept up, as it should have been, might have constituted a decided pre-eminence upon the Plata, was completely destroyed, and the materiel disposed of.

I was destined for an expedition from the results of which many events were to arise. I was sent to Corrientes, with the brigantine of eighteen guns, the Pereyra, which had, besides the eighteen pieces of artillery, two guns on pivots. The goëlette Procida was to sail in concert with me. Corrientes was then opposed to Rosas, and I was to assist him in his movements against the forces of the dictator. Perhaps the expedition had another object, but that was the secret of the minister-general.

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Let him who publishes these memoirs be permitted to offer readers a few explanations upon the state of the Republic of Montevideo in 1841, which General Garibaldi has not thought it necessary to give in a journal written from day to day.

These explanations will be the more exact from their having been dictated to him, in 1849, by a man who has played a great part in the events of the Oriental Republic: by General Pacheco y Obes, one of our best friends. Then, be at ease, dear readers, we will immediately restore the pen to that other not less good friend, bearing the name of Joseph Garibaldi.

K

For you see, like Cæsar, the first emancipator of Italy, he can handle a pen as well as a sword.

When the traveller arrives from Europe in one of those vessels which the first inhabitants of the country took for flying houses, what he first perceives, when the sailor on watch cries, "Land !" are two mountains. One is a mountain of bricks, which is the Cathedral, the mother church, the Matrix, as they say there. And then a mountain of granite, marbled with a little verdure, and surmounted by a lighthouse, which is called the Cerro.

As he approaches the towers of the cathedral, whose porcelain domes glitter in the sun, the traveller distinguishes the miradores out of number, and of various forms, which surmount almost all the houses: next these houses themselves, red or white, with their terraces, airy stations for the evening; then, at the foot of the Cerro, the Saladores, a vast edifice where provisions are salted; and at last, at the bottom of the bay, bordering the sea, the charming quintas, so much the delight and pride of the inhabitants, that on fête days nothing but these words is heard running through the streets : "Let us go into the Migueléte !" "Let us go into the Arrayo Seco."

Then, if you cast anchor between the Cerro and the city, dominated from whatever point you view it by the gigantic cathedral; if the yawl carries you rapidly under the strokes of its six rowers; if, on that day you see on the road to those beautiful quintas groups of women en amazone, of horsemen in riding costume; if, in the evening, through the open windows, pouring into the streets torrents of light and harmony, you hear the notes of the piano or the plaints of the harp, the sparkling trills of quadrilles, or the plaintive air of a romance; you are at Montevideo, the vicequeen of that river of silver of which Buenos Ayres pretends to be queen, and which falls into the Atlantic by a mouth eighty leagues wide.