picious vessel really appeared upon the horizon, De Rohan came striding aft, shouting, "Make yourself useful, young man! Don't flinch!" And the young man promptly made himself useful by helping to hoist the American flag, kept handy for such emergencies.

They reached Sicily safely, arriving off Castelamare, on the night of June 17th. Early next morning Nast, standing on the bow of the " Washington," saw a fishing boat coming through the mist. It was pulled by sturdy red-shirted men, and one of these, as they came under the bow, leaned over to wash his hands in the sea. Captain Peard came up just then.

66

Why," he said, "it's Garibaldi!"

And so it was. The great leader with a few fishermen had rowed over from Palermo, a distance of perhaps forty miles, to receive his reinforcements, and to make known his commands. Amid cheers of welcome, he came on board to confer with Medici and Peard. Then, once more, he took his seat in the

fishing boat, laid hold of an oar, like the others, and pulled away into the mist. The quiet unpretentiousness of this man who held in his hand the fortunes of a nation made an impression on the young artist which the years never effaced. Garibaldi was his hero from that hour.

They landed and marched through the country already possessed by the "thousand." It was rough life and hard marching. Sometimes the artist had a horse, and he learned to sleep in the saddle. Once he travelled all

GARIBALDI WELCOMING HIS REINFORCEMENTS
(From a damaged sketch, by Nast)

night in a springless wagon with Captain Peard, to whom he presently became "Joe, the fat boy of Pickwick," and a close friend. Yet it was a triumphal march. The Sicilians rejoiced in their freedom from the galling yoke of the Neapolitans-the troops were greeted with bands of music, and lavishly entertained.

The expedition reached Palermo and Garibaldi on the 21st of June. Garibaldi rode out to meet the army and was greeted with the wildest enthusiasm. A little later the patriot chief, arrayed only in gray trousers and the red fisherman's shirt to which he has given his name, welcomed his officers to the royal palace, where he had established headquarters. Upon De Rohan's introduction the Liberator held out his hand to Nast.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance," he said. "As you are a friend of my friend De Rohan, you are my friend also."

CHAPTER VIII

WITH GARIBALDI

With Peard and other officers, Nast stopped at the Hotel Tri nacria, and next morning set out early to view the city. And now, for the first time, he realized some of the horrors of war. There had been a fierce bombardment from the Neapolitan vessels, also from the Palermo citadel and royal palace, before the final surrender. Ruined palaces were on every hand. Whole districts were in ashes. In some of the houses, families had been burned alive. A multitude of men and women, led by monks and armed with pickaxes, were destroying the hated citadel whose capture had cost them so much. Of this scene the artist made a careful sketch, which appeared in the London News of July 28th.

All Palermo was wild with excitement. "Garibaldi " was the name on every lip. Red shirts, red skirts, red feathers and red ribbons billowed everywhere like a tossing vermilion sea. The price of red cloth doubled, trebled, quintupled. The young artist hastened to secure himself a red shirt before the supply was exhausted, also the proper trousers, and a hat as nearly like Garibaldi's as he could find.* Then he strapped on a large knife, such as the Sicilian grocers use to cut cheese, and felt equipped

Garibaldi once told Nast that the idea of using the "red shirt" uniform had been suggested to him by the dress of the New York City firemen.

for war.
At night he attended
a theatre, where the representa-
tion was of recent events, and
an actor, overcome by a frenzy
of excitement, died with the
name of Garibaldi on his lips.

Indeed, Garibaldi had become to the Sicilians a second Messiah. Many of them really believed him to be so. His enemies declared that he had sold his soul to the devil, and could shake their bullets from his body into his loose red shirt and empty them out at his leisure. The artist could never vouch for this story, as he did not see the bullets. What impressed him most was the simplicity of the great commander's life. Calling one morning at the palace, he found Garibaldi at a breakfast which consisted of nothing more than a little fruit, some bread and a glass of water.

Through Captain Peard, who had proved a true friend-advancing money when remittances were delayed-Nast was permitted to take a run up to Naples on an English man-o'-war. He found Naples in a state of mighty excitement. A review of Neapolitan soldiers by their Bourbon king, Francis II., had resulted in a sanguinary riot. Everywhere were the portraits and colors of Garibaldi. Evidently the inhabitants were ready to receive their conquerors with open arms. With the officers of the English vessel, Nast went over the city and made a trip to Pompeii. Then he was low in funds again, and the remittance. he had expected at Naples did not come.

*"Life of Garibaldi," by J. Theodore Bent.

"Artist of the Ill. News," he wrote on a card, to identify himself with the landlord, to whom he owed a respectable bill. "When I come back, with Garibaldi, I will pay you."

The landlord studied the card carefully.

"You are artist of ze ill news. Dat mean bad news?"

Nast explained. The landlord took ten piasters from his money drawer and laid them before his guest.

"Do you mean that you will advance me that?" gasped the artist.

The money was pushed toward him without further comment. Two months later, when he returned as he had promised, the landlord refused to accept payment or even to remember the transaction. It was a Neapolitan way of contributing to the Garibaldian cause.

Nast returned to Palermo just in time to see Garibaldi's troop ships leaving for Milazzo, the next point of conquest. He followed on another vessel which sailed the same evening, arriving on the following afternoon to find that

he was once more too late for the fighting. Milazzo had fallen on the 20th, after a stubborn defence. Only the citadel still remained in the enemy's hands. Closed shops and the ruin of battle everywhere confronted him. He went about and made sketches, and, tired and without food, slept that night on paving stones.

The surrender of the citadel took place on the 25th of July, instead of the 21st, as has been erroneously stated. General