image of Santa Rosalia breathes forth a peace and a joy, which, once seen or felt, leave behind a light in the soul, like the assurance of an inner life, an inner joy, which the storms and mists of life cannot reach. An abundant spring of the freshest water bubbles up in the grotto of Santa Rosalia, has there its spring, and supplies the people throughout the whole neighborhood with an invaluable refreshment. Peace be with thee, beautiful Rosalia! May thy innocent renown long diffuse a glory over thy native city, and thy beautiful image, thy heavenly expression, attract some of thy sisters to a bent of mind like thine own!
November 2d.—I take gray paper to-day, on which to write of rain and chilliness, and—for now five days, Palermo has drawn around itself a rainy and misty mantle, which makes her golden shell resemble rather a conco d'acqua than a conco d'oro, and gloomy countenances show themselves, even before the peace and joy of a certain marriage. Judge of this for yourself, my R——.
I went into the room where the lovers were sitting, in order to impart to them a little of my wisdom of life, and to derive from them a little inner sunshine—for Hercules is now once more Hercules—when I happened to hear the following conversation:
He. But I tell you what; if you persist in making my day gloomy with your black imps, I shall take my hat and make my departure.
She. Very good! And whilst you are gone, I shall pack up all my clothes, and such of your books as most take my fancy, and that little Cupid of Sevres-china,—pack them all up together and set off with them by railway.
