The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1860-07-13

INTERESTING DESC AIPTION OF A VISIT TO
GARIBALDI.-A letter TO the Boston Courier
from Palermo, gives an interesting description
Of Garibaldi and his camp. The writer 10
an American naval officer, who went from
Naples TO the Dictator. He says:
Garibaldi had apparently just finished his
dinner, and was sitting at q corner window
talking with four or five visitors, gentlemen
and ladies of Palermo. He rose rs we came
In, and came forward shaking hands with
each of the party as we We're in troduced- He
had his plain red shirt on, precisely like q
fireman, and no mark of authority. His man.
ner is, as you know of course, very kind and
or hand, without being vulgar or dema;,ogic
He talked with each OF us, and talked perfect
ly naturally; no stump oratory and no sham
Just as an instance of his manner, there was
one little action of his that struck me. l was
seated next him, and, as the head of our party
remarked that l had come all the way from
Naples IN order to see him, he turned around
and took my hand, thanking me as if had
done him favor. This is the way he draws
people. He talked mostly in French, for his
English is not very good. As for what he
said, 1t is OF no particular interest to any one,
least as far as it was said TO me. The OF hers
can report the conversation if they think it
worth while 10 report what was not meant TO
be reported.
But this was only half the scene. At \
round table in the middle of the room a party
of six or eight men were taking dinner These
were real heroes of romance. Two or three
costume; one had a dirty, faded, hussar jack
ct on; one was priest in his black robes
They were eating and drinking without re-
gard to us, and as If they were hungry
Especially the priest was Furnishing his dim
ner. He is a fine fellow, this priest, a slave ID
Garibaldi and glorious specimen of the
church militant. l have met him several
times, rushing about the streets with great
black cross III his hands. he has strange,
restless face, all passion and impulse. The
others were Garibaldi's famous captains-a
fine set of heads. full of energy and action.
Here was at last, then, face TO face with
one of the great events of our day. 1t was all
perfect; there was Palermo, the insurgent ST.
Gillian city, with its barrcades, and its ruined
streets, with all the marks OF war. There
was that armed and bowling mob in the
square below, and the music of the national
hymn, and the five revolutionary cannon
There We're the guerilla captains, who had
rsked their lives and fortunes Tor something
that the worst envy could not call selfish.
And there was the great Dictator, who when
your and my little hopes and ambitions shall
have lain in our graves a few centuries with
us, Will still be honored as a hero, and per-
hapS half worshipped-Who knows-for Il
God. And yet, Heaven knows why he of all
men, has been selected for immortality, l. for
one, think that Cavour is much the grea ter
man OF the two; but, practically, the future
Italy will probably adore q Gar ibaidi's memory
and only respect Cavour's.
As he sat there laughing and chattering and
wagging his red grey beard, and putting away
et his cigar, III seemed 10 me that one might
feel Tor him all the respec and admiration that
his best friends ask, and yet at the same time
enter protest against fate. AS we came away
he shook hands with us again, aud took leave
of us with the creates kindness. As We made
our way through the crowd across the square
we stopped a minute TO take last look al him.
He was leaning on the railing of the balcony
before his window, quietly smoking his cigar,
and watching the restless, yelling crowd be-
low. He seemed hardly to be conscious OF the
noise and confusion, and looked in his red
shirt like the very essence and genius OF rsvo-
luton, as he is.