Garibaldi has always been humane and sympathizing, and especially with his own suffering soldiers. Of this there are proofs in the preceding pages. Few men ever knew as well as he how to make the unfortunate feel that they were compassionated. The following is an account of one of his visits to the hospitals of Palermo, from the letter of one of our own countrymen, who had offered his services as a surgeon early in the Sicilian war: "One of the most moving sights it has been my lot to witness, was Garibaldi's visit here the other morning. As he entered the different wards, it seemed as though an electric shock had been communicated to all the inmates; after the first joyful cry: '_E lui! E Garibaldi! E il Generale!_" a dead silence prevailed; all eyes were fixed upon him as he passed from bed to bed, taking the thin, wasted hands in his, or pressing his own upon many a feverish brow, making each patient feel that he was his general's favorite son, and that from him he might expect all that a father's tenderness could give. All his own men were known to him; he called them by their names, remembered where and how they were wounded, promoted this one, promised honorable employment to others disabled for military service, granting permission to others to go home, and providing them with ample means. When he came to the Sicilians, he inquired kindly into their wants and condition; ordered that the pay of one should be doubled, that another should be pensioned, and so on. But perhaps the most interesting scene of all was his visit to the Neapolitan ward, where we have eleven wounded prisoners, who have petitioned to enter our ranks. After being told that they were wounded at Calata Fimi, he said, 'Then you are brave men, truly! You have been misled; taught to look on us as enemies. I am fortunate to have you for my soldiers and for brothers.' Those men, strong and stalwart as they were, wept like little children, and in Garibaldi's eyes were tears; none could help weeping, and one felt why it is that he is so loved, so idolized by all. When the emotion had a little passed, they tried to kiss his hands; he snatched them away. 'No, no!' he said, 'no more _Eccellenza_; no more kissing of hands; that is servile. We are Italians—brothers—we are equals!'"