erchief loosely thrown over his shoulders and round his neck.

Prints, photographs, portraits of all kinds, have made the English
public scarcely less familiar than the Italian, with the physiognomy
of Giuseppe Garibaldi. But no photograph, of course, and no painting
which I have ever seen, gives certain peculiarities of that striking
head and face, as I first saw it, somewhere about twenty years ago.

The pose of the head, and the general arrangement and colour of the
tawny hair (at that time but slightly grizzled) justified the epithet
"leonine" so often applied to him. His beard and moustache were of the
same hue, and his skin was probably fair by nature, but it had been
tanned by wind and weather. The clear blue eyes were surrounded by a
network of fine lines. This had no trace or suggestion of _cunning_,
as is often the case with wrinkles round the setting of the eyes, but
was obviously the result of habitual contraction of the muscles in
gazing at very distant objects. In short, Garibaldi's eyes, both in
this respect and in respect of a certain, steadfast, far-away look in
them, were the eyes of a sailor. Seamanship, as is generally known,
was his first profession. Another physical peculiarity of his which
I do not remember to have seen noticed in print was a remarkably
beautiful voice. It was fine in quality and of great range; sweet, yet
manly, and with a suggestion of stored-up power which harmonised with
the man. It seemed to belong, too, to the benevolence, which was the
habitual expression of his face when in repose.

"Jessie [pronounced Jessee] told me I should find you up; but you are
not so early as I am!" was his salutation. I said he had _dans le
temps_ been beforehand with others as well as with me! At which he
laughed, not, I thought, ill-pleased. And then we talked--about Italy
of course. One subject of his talk I specially remember, because it
gave rise to a little discussion, and in a great degree gave me the
measure of the man.

"As for the priests," said he, "they ought all to be put to death,
without exception and without delay!"

"Rather a strong measure!" I ventured to say.

"Not a bit too strong! not a bit!" he rejoined warmly. "Do we not put
assassins to death? And is not the man who murders your soul worse
than the man who only kills your body?"

I attempted to say that the difference of the two cases lay in the
fact, that as to the killing of the body there was no doubt about the
m