The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-09-26

lies SOFT and round as child upon the temples.
He wears the red shirt still, not in ahectanon,
but because II is theeasiest uniform of the soldier,
and the cheapest, admitting OF all eXceliend
carelessness, like this OF tonight when he can
sit among his staff, growing young again in their
unabashed ana laughing recitatOns. Close by
is Menotu Garibaldi his son, frank, modest,
and handsome soldier, who is like his fathers
younger brother; for they speak together very
often, without reserve vet with a tenderness
that you must be moved TO see; with nothing of
the mutual fear and abashment of Give and
Colonel Newcome-tor these people of ThaCke-
ray were after all types Of the most domestic
school IN the world, the English, where the old
are tyrants, and the young never forget what
they ought TO be. To these sons of his Carl
baldi is the reverse of all history. He might
have left them dukes; for no single man ever,
by his unauthorized valor, gave so much glory
and territory to a country, and Italy would have
made them noble and rich together. His stern
democratic notions forbade all this.
They are poor young men to-day, working in
time of peace to make a volcani crock fertile,
and in war the most exposed of soldiers. Verta-
BILE Pantheists of Italy they all seem to be, will.
ing to crumble into, her clay together so that
she shook them forth in the green leaf of free
dom. 1t may gladden. those only for whom
am writing this correspondence-the lovers of
the pure5t forms of democracy, and of the
purest men in them-to know that in this last
struggle OF Italy, the volunteers OF Garibaldi
came out not less olotihed than before.
The regular troops, the regular navy, lost
laurels. The volunteers OF Garbaldi were the
dIIDeu CuaNOIS OF Gne peaks, ana tney maze the
Austrians in the passages and gorges dream Of
perpetual alarm. Perhaps they could have
done little IN the absence of regular reserves;
but after the Neapolitan campaign, | can
believe any thing i'm their favor The trophies
OF the war ale theirs at any rate.
The King, beaten at Custozza, the navy
thuTped and drowned at Istia; on the noun
tains above Garda, only, Italy, under Garibaldi,
perpetually triumphant! 1t is gladdening to
know that by the new treaty, this splendid lake,
THROUGHOUT all its eneth, is secured Ito Italy.
During this campaign Garibaldi has been the
same meteor of action, ubiquitou always III
spring, the Sheridan of the Alps. There is no
soldier of such sleeplessness in history, nor any
with so candid intelligence Of the rightfuness
OF battle, Among the personages Of Europe he
is the foremost spirit of democracy, recognized
and seli-supprcssed power, without meanness
of a narrow ambition, modelled upon such past
great names as francesca Ferruci and William
Tell, and above ALL the American hero OF Italy,
who gathered on the wild tree pampas concep-
tOns of popular government and indifference
to courts and kings
Sitting thus, under the heavy globes of the
orange trees, with the delicate branches of
olives half hiding old busts and torsos of marble,
at whose pedestas the knotted grape stems
shrank and coIled, thought | could look far
into the future, and see the millions of people,
when you and are dead, striving to realize
scene like this in Garibaldi's life. Then his
quiet figure, draped in white smoke, 'CoCkedn
back American fashion, took new surroundings
to me-the perpetual champion of crushed
sights, riding the wild horses against the despots,
swinging bis Cutlass on burning decks in far
foreign seas, lying among the Shiny rats in un-
forgiviDg prisons, returning like dead face to
reklnde his native country, manning the guns
of Rome, awakening the grape-drunken hills
with his torches, eXpelling the last spectres of
the Bourbons, the cold Alps looking down
benignantly and at last quiet farmer in the
sea, but shining there lighthouse and life boat
of help | know OF no American, living or
dead, at whose feet ] could more proudly sit
and to me he is Americas great ally in Europe,
one Hermit Peter preaching the Western
crusade!
He was glad to hear Of Staten Island of his
Italian friends there, the coloniss of "Boss'
Mewcci; and of all the places round he had a
lively remembrance, giving the names in the
droll Anglo-Itaan pronunciation. l left him
with his eyes shut, musng, glad not to have
said "good.bye;" for fear that GarlbaldI must
soon say goodbye to us all, as he is old and
worn, though know that hels not weary.
GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND.