March 15.

    Dear sir: 

The last time I had the pleasure of see you in your place, Villa Collina Ridente, you exclaimed with a melancholic voice, “Only poppies and mignonette came out of the wild flower seeds.”  “So it is,” said I in the same tune of voice.  Time proved we was both wrong; many other flowers made their retarded appearance, so deserving the name of wild flower garden....

Your place (pardon me as I am not a violet) could look better, also could look worse; consequently I consider myself entitled to be placed between hell and paradise—­to have things as one wishes is an insolvable problem—­that era has not come yet.

Many people come over to the Smiling hills, some think it is not necessary to go any farther to collect flower to make a bouquet.  With forced gentle manner I reproached some of them, ordering to observe the rule, “vedere e non toccare.”  It go in force while I am present, not so in my absence.  Those that made proverbs, their names ought to be immortal.  Here for one, “When the cat is gone, the rats dance.”  How much true is in the Say.  Every visitor like the place profane or not profane in artistic matter.

A glorious rain came last night to the great content of the farmers and gardeners—­others not so.  While I am writing from my Observatorio I can’t see any indication of stopping.  I don’t think it will rain as much as when we had the universal deluge, but if the cause of said deluge was in order to get a better generation, it may.  I don’t think the actual generation is better than it was the anti-deluge, pardon me if you can’t digest what I say.  I am a pessimist to the superlative grade, and it is not without reason that I say so.  I had sad experience with the World.  Thank God for having doted me with a generous dose of philosophic!  Swimming against the tide, not me, not such a fool I am!

Here is another pardon that I have to ask and it is to take the liberty of decorate the Smiling hill with the American flag.  La Bandiera Stellata (note:  I am not an American legally, no; to say I renounce to my country, impossible, but I am an American by heart if U. Sam can use me.  I was not trained to be a soldier, but in matter of shooting very seldom I fail to get a rabbit when I want it, more so lately that a box of shells from 60 cents jumped to $1.00).  As a rule the ridents colline are very monotonous, but when I am home, more so the Sunday, the “Marseillaise” no where is heard more than here; no animosity against nobody; Cosmopolitan, ardent admirer of C. Paine!  The world is my country; to do good is my religion!

With fervent wishes of not having need of doctors or lawyers; with
best regards to you and family, I am

Yours respectfully,
Constantino Garibaldi.

Unquestionably he has humor.  After receiving more or less mixed orders from me, I have heard him softly singing in the courtyard, “Donna e mobile.”  I only regret that as a family we aren’t musical enough to assist with the “Sextette” from “Lucia!”