Today is a day of national mourning.Garibaldi died last night.Do youknow who he is？He is the man who freed ten millions of Italians from the tyranny of the Bourbons.He died at the age of seventy-five.He was born at Nice,the son of a ship captain.At eight years of age,he saved a woman's life；at thirteen,he dragged into safety a boat-lead of his companions who were shipwrecked；at twenty-seven,he saved a drowning youth,at Marseilles；at forty-one,he saved a ship from burning on the ocean.He fought for ten years in America for the liberty of a foreign people；he fought in three wars against the Austrians,for the liberation of Lombardy and Trentino；he defended Rome from the French in 1849；he liberated Naples and Palermo in 1860；he foughtagain for Rome in 1867；and fought against the Germans in defence of France in 1870.He was possessed of the flame of heroism and the genius of war.He was engaged in forty.battles,and won thirty-seven of them.

When he was not fighting,he was working for his living,or he shut himself up in a solitary island,and tilled the soil.He was teacher,sailor,workman,trader,soldier,general,dictator.He was simple,great,and good.He hated all oppressors,he loved all peoples,he protected all the weak；he had no other aspiration than good,he refused honors,he scorned death,he adored Italy.When he uttered his war cry,legions of valorous men hastened to him from all quarters；gentlemen left their palaces,workmen their shops,youths their schools,to go and fight in the sunshine of his glory.In time of war ho wore a red shirt.He was a blond,strong and handsome.On the field of battle he was a thunder-bolt；in his affections he was a child,in affliction he was a saint.Thousands of Italians have died for their country,happy,if,when dying,they saw him pass victoious in the distance；thousands would have allowed themselves to be killed for him；millions have blessed and will bless him.

He is dead.The whole world mourns him.You do not appreciate him now.But you will read of his deeds,you will constantly hear him spoken of in the course of your life；and gradually,as you grow up,his image will grow before you；when you become a man,you will behold him as a giant；and when you are no longer in the world,when your sons'sons and those who shall be born of them are no longer among the living,the generations will still behold on high his luminous head as a redeemer of the people,crowned by the names of his victories as with a circlet of stars；and the brow and the soul of every Italian will beam when he utters his name.

Your father