as if a painter of exquisite taste had arranged them in a gallery.
But these wonderful gardens have made a deep and lasting impression on my mind. The black waves on the northern horizon, as they broke on the irregular points of the bay,—and even the smell of the sea,—all seemed to recall to my imagination, as well as to my memory, the happy island of the Phæacians. I hastened to purchase a "Homer," and began to read this book with the highest delight, making an impromptu translation of it for the benefit of Kniep, who had well deserved by his diligent exertions this day some agreeable refreshment over a glass of wine.
Palermo, April 8, 1787.
(Easter Day.)
The morning rejoicings in the blissful Resurrection of the Lord commenced with break of day. Crackers, wild-fires, rockets, serpents, etc., were let off by wholesale in front of the churches, as the worshippers crowded in at the open doors. The chiming of bells, the pealing of organs, the chanting of processions, and of the choirs of priests who came to meet them, were enough to stun the ears of all who had not been used to such noisy worship.
The early mass was scarcely ended, when two well-dressed couriers of the viceroy visited our hotel, with the double object of offering to all strangers his highness's congratulations on the festival, and to exact a douceur in return. As I was specially honoured with an invitation to dinner, my gift was, of course, expected to be considerable.
After spending the morning in visiting the different churches, I proceeded to the viceroy's palace, which is situated at the upper end of the city. As I arrived rather early, I found the great hall still empty: there
