"Oh, who is that rough looking man in the red flannel shirt?" cried Betty.
"That very red shirt tells me who he is," said her aunt. "Have you been wondering when we were going to have one of the heroes of Italy? Well, this is an Italian patriot named Garibaldi. About sixty years ago, when Italy was struggling to get free from Austria, and to be an independent nation, Garibaldi gathered together as many brave soldiers as he could, in the southern part of the country, and they marched to the help of their countrymen in a time of very great need. As a part of their uniform they wore red shirts. But one of the most interesting things about Garibaldi is that when his country wanted to give him a high position, he said he would rather go back to the farm he had bought for himself, and live his life out as a plain, ordinary man."
Little Dick had been keeping very still and listening, for all the people in the parade had been those that he never had heard of before. But suddenly he jumped to his feet in excitement. He, like every other child in the crowd, knew who was that tall, awkward, homely person in the long black frock coat and the high silk hat. There could be no mistaking that kind, sad face, with the patient, farseeing eyes. Behind the great president rode two soldierly figures—General Grant in his blue uniform, and General Lee in the gray, on his beloved white horse, Traveller. Nor could there be any mistaking of the energetic figure in hunting dress that followed him, whose face wore a smile that could not be spoiled by the heavy eyeglasses that were so familiar a part of a well-known countenance.
"Teddy," cheered the crowd, with the enthusiasm that always is stirred by true, generous manliness.
The afternoon was growing late. One group remained, with which the procession was to close. On horseback rode a tall, soldierly figure, dressed in khaki, with an officer's hat bearing royal insignia, and with his breast covered with medals. A pair of keen blue eyes smiled out of a clear-cut, earnest face. Behind him, in an automobile, rode a thin, worn old man in the scarlet robe and close scarlet cap of a cardinal.
"I need not tell you who they are," said Aunt Eleanor. "They stand to us for the little country that in 1914 saved the world by sacrificing herself. King Albert of Belgium led his own armies into battle; his queen, Elizabeth, nursed the wounded in the hospitals; and Cardinal Mercier stayed with his people to cheer and comfort them."
"I think they are the greatest heroes of all," said Betty softly.
"Any man is a hero, dear," said her aunt, "who spends his life for the help and safety of his people, not thinking what it costs himself."
—Mabel Dodge Holmes.