I bargained with a sensale to be taken to Girgenti in two days and a half for six Sicilian dollars, each of which is a trifle less in value than the Spanish dollar. These sensali, who are the brokers of the horse-keepers, generally take care to have a good share of the profit; and I found in this case that the owner of the horse, who accompanied me on foot, and who was on his return to Alicata, was to have forty tari for his portion, a tari being the twelfth part of a dollar. We set out on Monday the 17th. The road lies for some distance along the shore, then winds up a fine valley, the varied forms and receding distances of whose boundary mountains offer a succession of beautiful scenes.

At Casteglione^[38] we leave the valley, and proceed over naked hills, which in spring are covered with corn, but at this season the burnt up stubble or bare earth presented a uniform dead brown, like that of some dreary moor. We passed some baths furnished with a pretty copious spring of warm water, without taste, issuing from the foot of a rock, which I believe to be of limestone, but it was capped with a breccia composed of rounded fragments of different substances, the base of which is a hard, reddish stone. Warm springs in this island seem more common than cold. Hence, we descended to Belli Frati, which is placed in a beautiful open valley abounding in vineyards and orchards: and the slopes of the hills are covered with olives; higher up are corn, rocks and brushwood; but the principal feature is a very bold face of mountain at some distance, of great extent, covered with fine wood, except where the perpendicular rock will not admit its growth, and except various little beautiful openings among the trees. This is, I believe, part of the royal forest or chase of Busambra. Above this mountain rise more distant summits, which were only obscurely seen among the clouds. My guide’s scheme was to stop at this place, twenty-two miles from Palermo, but he was willing to proceed, and so was I, as there was plenty of day remaining. We therefore continued our route to San Giuseppe, about nine miles further. Here also is a pretty valley, and the flowering heads of the aloes rising abundantly among, and above the olives, had the charm of novelty as well as beauty. San Giuseppe is a miserable solitary hovel, which contained no separate apartments, and had I remained there, I could only have slept on the straw, among the vetturini and their mules. I therefore determined to push on to Alcara, thirty-nine miles from Palermo, and here with some difficulty I obtained a bed. The hesitation about giving me one was merely adopted in order to form a plea for a more exorbitant charge. This latter part of the road led me over a considerable mountain, (Serra Fareschia) and I found myself enveloped in the clouds. If this had not been the case, I was too late in the evening to have seen from them any extensive prospect, but as far I could judge, the country was entirely destitute of wood; and my journey the next morning to Fontana Fredda was of the same character. Here again is a pleasant valley, and finding myself fatigued and rather unwell I stopt for the night. The place derives its name from a well of excellent water. The scenery is of a very peculiar character, arising from the frequent mural precipices formed by the hills. The substance of those in the immediate neighbourhood I supposed to be gypsum from its translucency, and brilliant fracture, but it effervesces with acids, and is therefore I suppose, a carbonate of lime. The structure seems to be somewhat fibrous. There is, however, also a quantity of gypsum on the road. Higher up, the mountains offer another series of mural precipices, equally vertical, and of perhaps about the same height, which may be from one to two hundred feet. These appear to be of a conglomerate, but I did not approach near enough to any one of them to be certain of the fact. During the first day we passed many beds of rivers, but only one of them contained a stream of water, and that was poisoned by the flax and hemp steeped in it. On the second day, after a long descent from Alcara, we arrived at the banks of the Fiume, or rather Fiumara, di San Pietro, in some parts of which the water ran, while in others we saw only a bed of stones; but this also was extremely offensive. The third day, the first part of our course lay near the same river; the quantity of water was increased, but the smell remained the same. It was an excessive disappointment to me, when after riding and walking a long way under a hot sun, and seeing in the distance the sparkling of the water, to find on a nearer approach, that what ought to give a charm to every thing about it, was only productive of disgust. Even when a clear stream does occur, a Sicilian, having perhaps formed his ideas of running water from its general offensiveness, never either drinks it himself, or lets his cattle drink of it, but the water of various springs is conducted here and there, through covered channels, to troughs on the road sides prepared for that purpose. After a few miles we crossed a range of high, clayey hills, in parts of which sulphur is dug, and arrived before noon at Girgenti. The modern city stands high on the southern slope of a steep hill, which forms on the summit, a narrow ridge. The highest part has perhaps an elevation of 800 feet. It commands a full view of the sea and the intervening country, interspersed with vineyards, and orchards, and groves of olive and almond-trees; a delightful prospect. About half-way between this and the shore stand the ruins of the ancient Agrigentum. The way to them from Girgenti is on a continued descent, but they nevertheless occupy a rocky and picturesque eminence, which shows them to great advantage. I had been warned not to go to the Benedictine convent, and recommended to stay at that of the Capuchins, which among other merits, has that of being on the outskirts of the town, and towards the ruins; but I prefer the sovereignty of my own apartment in an inn, where it is practicable; and finding that there was a locanda in the place, I made my arrangements there, and though I cannot boast greatly of my accommodations, yet I must doubt their being better at the Capuchin convent. I delivered a letter to Don Guglielmo Salice, who was exceedingly civil, and in compliance with what he conceived to be English customs, offered me rum in the morning, and tea at noon. Afterwards taking a boy whom I found at the city gate for a guide, I walked down to the temples.

The first antiquity we meet with is called the Oratory of Phalaris; but from the multiplication of small mouldings, I conjecture it to be of Roman times; the pilasters have bases, while the architrave shews the guttæ belonging to the triglyphs of the Doric order.

A wide interval occurs between this temple and the rest, but the walk is very pleasant among vineyards and olive-groves, with here and there some trifling fragment of a wall or an aqueduct. The principal objects form a single series, occupying the ridge of a hill, which, steep on one side, is almost precipitous on the other. This ridge is between two and three miles from the sea, but only partially open to it; the eastern point is the highest, and may perhaps have an elevation of 250 feet. Here we find a ruin usually called the Temple of Juno. Eleven columns with their architrave are still standing, and several other single columns, more or less perfect. The proportions and forms are beautiful, and the sober brown colour of the stone is in perfect harmony with the scene. These tinted ruins, the brown rock from which they rise, the dark green of the carob, and the sober gray of the olive-trees, among which they stand, and all seen against the deep blue sky, have an indescribable air of repose. In this edifice there are vestiges of smaller steps below the two principal ones in front of the pronaos, and at the foot of these smaller steps there is a course hollowed out on the surface, as if for a drain, and after an interval of about 27 feet, a mass of masonry, which bears the appearance of steps rising from the temple, as if to give a view of what was going forward within, or immediately in front of the edifice.

From the temple of Juno we walk among the ancient quarries, sepulchres, granaries, and cisterns, to that of Concord; both these names are very uncertain, or rather perhaps it is pretty clear that they are erroneous, but they serve for distinction. Here all the columns are standing, and the walls of the cell, and both fronts, are nearly entire. His Sicilian majesty has had it patched and plastered, and an inscription on marble records restorations executed in stucco. This slab and inscription have, I suspect, cost more than the repairs, and will probably remain to puzzle antiquaries when all traces of the latter have disappeared. The architecture of this temple is inferior to that of Juno. The situation is similar, but less lofty. The entasis of the columns is less evident. The capitals of the pilasters are clumsy, and look ill in the work as well as in drawing. Here also are traces of an extended platform, before the east front, but none of the mode of entering from it, into the temple, nor is there any appearance of steps on the opposite side of the platform. There is not enough of the back wall remaining, to determine whether there was a door between the posticum and the temple.

Continuing our progress westward, partly among thick plantations of Indian fig, we arrive at the Temple of Hercules. This has been much larger than either of the others, but only one fragment of a column is erect. Many others are lying as they fell, and the ruins form quite a hill. The columns were nearly 7 feet in diameter, and about 30 feet high. The clear width of the peristyle was about 11 feet. It appears to have been hexastyle and peripteral, with columns not much more than one diameter apart.

After crossing a little hollow, which probably marks the situation of the ancient outlet of the city towards the port, we find the tremendous ruin of the Temple of Jupiter. Enough remains to shew that it was in bad taste, and of bad construction, but of immense proportions. The stone employed in the Sicilian antiquities is too coarse in its grain, and of too soft and perishable a nature, for the exact discrimination of the forms of the smaller parts. The mere waste of time and weather seems to have been sufficient to reduce the temples to their present state, and in the building before us, the material has I think been crushed in many parts by the superincumbent weight. Do not however form too bad an opinion of it, but recollect that it is 2,200 years since Agrigentum ceased to flourish. This temple was pseudoperipteral, i. e. surrounded by half columns attached to the wall. Part of the middle column still remaining at the east end, shows that there were seven of these behind; and we may make out fourteen on each flank, including the angular ones; but whether there was a central column in front, or how that part was managed we cannot determine. An excavation has been made on the line of the front, in order to solve this question, but it shows nothing but the regular courses of the foundations. More extensive excavations on the north side expose the immense substructions on which the temple rested, rising in a flight of steep steps, at the top of which several of the ancient columns form each a considerable tumulus of its own ruins. We can with difficulty discover some filleting, and perhaps a curved moulding, forming a sort of base. Within, two rows of enormous piers divide the space into three aisles, but of these, the foundations alone remain, and various schemes have been devised to connect these piers with certain colossal figures, which are supposed to have given to the edifice the name of temple of the Giants, by which it has long been known. Fragments of sculpture are indeed found of a vast size, as we might suppose they would be, if forming an essential part of such a building. Some of the stones were of enormous bulk, but in general they were small. The half columns were built up in this manner,

each course being in eight pieces, but each capital was composed of two large blocks. The architrave is in three heights, and the lower stone rests merely on the projections of the capitals. The frieze is in one height, and so is the cornice, except the sima, which is wanting. The projection of the cornice appears to have been nearly 7 feet. The stones of the frieze were lifted into their places by means of a horse-shoe groove at each end, but those of the cornice required two such grooves. We find fragments of ornamented ovolos, of two different sizes, one of which, and perhaps both, belonged to an internal cornice. The sculpture has the smirking character of the early attempts to represent the gods, and we may distinctly trace in one fragment the features of Venus.

If, instead of proceeding directly to this temple after leaving that of Hercules, we descend the hollow, we meet almost immediately with a little edifice of a mixed order, placed on an elevated basement. This is usually called the Tomb of Theron, on the same principle, I suppose, that we are told lucus is derived à non lucendo. All we know of the tomb of Theron is, that it was split by lightning, and this little edifice shows no trace of such an accident. Various guesses have been made, but in fact we have no clue to guide us to what it has been, or to the period of its erection; and farther off on the plain is a ruin, now called the Temple of Æsculapius. Wilkins has given a representation of part of the back wall in the antiquities of Magna Græcia, but one of the antæ in front still exists, and the enclosure of the staircase as in the temple of Concord: so that the plan may be confidently restored. It was a pseudoamphiprostyle, i. e. it had a portico or pronaos in front, no columns on the sides, and only half columns behind.

Returning to the temple of Jupiter, and resuming our course to the north-west, we find some heaps of ruins, which, as my cicerone asserted, belonged to the temple of Castor and Pollux; and further on are two columns, which he pronounced to be the temple of Æsculapius, while he gave the name of Vulcan to the temple in the plain below. These two columns are considered by Wilkins as part of the temple of Castor and Pollux, and I think he is quite as good authority as my little guide, for where there are few visitors, these smaller ruins do not get established names.

Besides these temples, there are in the present city some foundations and stumps of columns of the Temple of Jupiter Polieus; and in the cathedral is a beautiful vase, and a sarcophagus which is much celebrated; one side and one end of the latter are of very good sculpture; the other two are rough in form and finish. It is of a white marble, containing mica, which scales off in places, as in the Pentelic marble; but there are fragments of a similar material in the museum of the prince of Biscari, and I observed pebbles of the same nature in the Fiumare, at the eastern part of Sicily, so that it is perhaps a Sicilian stone. This cathedral is Gothic, and said to be of the 15th century, but I found nothing to interest me in it. The lower part of the Campanile was erected by a man who died in 1485. The rest is of later date, and the arches mostly terminate in reversed curves, yet even here we find the little columns and zigzag ornaments of the Norman, and early English architecture. While I was at Girgenti one man stabbed two others. The first in consequence of a quarrel, of which I could not learn the particulars, the second, because he thought he was going to apprehend him. The offender was secured and taken to jail. It has excited a great commotion in the city, which may be considered as a proof that such things do not often happen.

The soil of Agrigentum and Girgenti is a coarse, brown limestone, full of modern shells, but perhaps not very thick, (i. e. short of 100 feet.) It appears to repose on a formation of clay and gypsum. An older limestone is found up the valley, a few miles from Girgenti.

On the 26th of August I left Girgenti for Monte Allegro, a corruption of the ancient name of Heraclea, which stood in this neighbourhood; and on the morning of the 27th proceeded to Sciacca. About three miles from Sciacca, on the top of a high limestone hill, are the stufe of San Calogero, consisting of a cavern, nearly at the top of a precipice, whence issues a very strong, hot wind, loaded with vapour, but without any disagreeable smell. This cavern bends round so rapidly, that the channel must approach very near the surface of the cliff. The limestone is generally of a brownish colour, and in beds nearly horizontal; the hot wind is said to be strongest in windy weather.

Just by the town of Sciacca there are springs of hot water, (not however boiling) having a sulphurous smell, and an intensely salt taste, and depositing sulphur in their course. They are so copious as to form the chief supply of a mill just below them. Near to these there is a spring slightly warm, the taste of which is not unlike that of skimmed milk. The same hollow furnishes a small chalybeate, and it is said that there were not long ago two or three more springs of different qualities, which are now lost. The bank of the little hollow immediately above these springs consists of a white, argillaceous rock, such as I had already met with on the way, lying under a conglomerate, and throwing out the water. A brown friable stone lies over the argillaceous rock on one bank, while on the opposite side it is covered by a shaly grit, and over that by a compact limestone containing shells. In the afternoon we proceeded to Memplice, or Menfrice, where there is a miserable inn swarming with vermin. I waked in the night and brushed them off my pillow as lightly as I could, but they seem to harbour principally in the broken plaster of the walls, and never attacked me in such numbers after I adopted the plan of drawing my bed away from the side of the room.

With Sciacca I left the mountains, and entered a country of a completely different character; an extensive elevated plain, intersected by winding valleys, which divide it into flat-topped hills of nearly equal elevation. These tops are very stony, and are partially cultivated in vineyards and olive-grounds. The valleys are loamy, and all in corn. We crossed a river which occupies a valley of greater extent and more beauty than the rest, where the upper ground is covered with a forest of cork-trees, but the stream itself is as usual very offensive; and afterwards entered a great plain covered with brushwood, at the extremity of which stand, or rather lie, the ruins of Selinus, or as it was called by the Romans, of Selinuntum. These ruins are divided by a sandy valley into two distinct parts, each occupying its own eminence. On that at which we first arrive, there are the ruins of three large temples, one of which is emphatically called the Great Temple. About 45 feet of one column is still erect. It is above 10 feet in diameter, and looks like a tower, while the fragments heaped around seem the ruins of a city rather than of a temple. The magnitude of this edifice is far more impressive than that of the temple of Jupiter at Agrigentum. The columns and entablature are not built up as in that edifice, but formed of large masses; and the perception of this circumstance harmonizes in the mind with their massive proportions and vast magnitude. One block of the architrave (probably the angular one) measures 26 feet 2 inches in length, is 4 feet 9 inches wide, and 6 feet 10½ inches high; but the most striking masses of stone are those which form the great capitals, each of which has been cut out of a block 13 feet square. The shape of these capitals is very peculiar. I have seen nothing like them in Greece, except a fragment on a very small scale, which I noticed at Corfu. The common Grecian Doric capitals in the best examples, form a sort of ogee, and we find this curve in that of the third temple on this eminence, (fig. 1,) but in the great temple a deep hollow interrupts the flow of the lines as in fig. 2.

The fragments of this temple are on so large a scale that it is no easy matter to clamber among them. There are traces of the existence of a comparatively very small, internal, Doric order, and also of a still smaller Ionic. All the particulars of this immense building might be obtained, but it would be a labour of considerable time, and of some expense, for although one would not attempt to remove any of the larger masses, yet many of those of a smaller size, and these are not small, must be taken out of the way.

This, and indeed all the temples here, seem to have been thrown down by violence, perhaps by an earthquake; as although the surfaces are much weather-worn, the stone is not in general so wasted as to have endangered the stability of the building, and many of the columns might be set up again. They have fallen inwards from both sides, but those on the south the most regularly so. The stone, though of the same nature as that at Agrigentum, is of a much superior quality, being both firmer, and of a finer grain.

Just by the great temple are the ruins of a second, in which many of the lower drums of the columns still remain in their places; and a few yards farther off, there are parts of a third temple, which is of better architecture than either of the others, or at least more pleasing to me.

The three temples now described are supposed to have been out of the city. On the opposite hill, which is hardly a mile distant, there are the distinct ruins of three other temples, and traces of two or three smaller edifices. The eminence on which they stand is surrounded by a terrace-wall, which has been imagined to be that of the city. It sets off at each course, presenting the appearance of a very steep flight of steps, and this is sufficient to determine that it was not built for defence. The whole hill was probably holy ground, and these walls formed a common basement to the sacred edifices with which it was crowned. Two of these temples have the peculiar form of capital which I have just noticed as existing in the great Temple. They are less beautiful than those of the Athenian Doric, but the parts harmonize well together, and the effect seems to have been well understood. I can easily imagine that it would find many advocates in England, particularly among those who admire bold projections and deep shadows. This peculiarity is not however to be found in all these buildings. Three of the larger temples exhibit it, in the other three the capitals resemble those of the Greek order. The northernmost of the three, on the second hill, is an example of this Sicilian Doric, and as the surface of the stone is more wasted in this than in any other example, without any apparent reason for the difference in the nature of the stone, we may conclude that it was not a recent innovation; but neither will a comparison of the condition of these edifices entitle us to suppose it a very ancient method, which afterwards gave way to the imitation of the Greeks, for the edifice which, after this, has the appearance of the highest antiquity, exhibits the more usual form. In one of the temples on the second eminence, eleven of the columns of the north side lie parallel to each other, and apparently just as they fell. They fell to the north, and this is the general direction in all these ruins, though with some exceptions.

We know nothing of all this heap of magnificence, but that it belonged to the city of Selinus, which was destroyed by the elder Hannibal about 450 years before Christ. There was afterwards a Roman colony called Selinuntum, but the style of the six principal temples renders it certain that these buildings are of Grecian origin.

I slept at Castel Vetrano, where I had some difficulty in procuring a bed, and returned on the 29th and 31st to the ruins, but I found the daily ride rather fatiguing. The road, for about four miles from the temples, crosses a plain very gently descending towards the sea, covered with Pistacia Lentiscus, Daphne Gnidium, the prickly broom (Spartium spinosum), and the tree-spurge (Euphorbia dendroides), the two latter of which bear leaves in the winter, and show their naked stems in the summer. Nearer to Castel Vetrano, the track passes a very pretty valley, and the whole of this part is an exceedingly stony soil, but covered with olive-trees and vineyards; the latter in particular, seem to delight in this sort of soil, and produce some of the best wine in Sicily. On the 30th I rode to the quarries of Selinus, which are about eight miles from Castel Vetrano, and six from the temples. They are particularly curious, because several pieces of columns, whose dimensions show them to have been intended for the large temple, lie scattered about. Others have been prepared by a channel cut round them, while the base still remains attached to the native rock. I suspect however, that all these are rejected blocks; and they consequently do not form any proof that the solid masses of the building were not completed. Neither here nor at the temple do we perceive any means provided for raising these immense stones to their places, and I am at a loss to conceive how it was performed, but there are even, square sinkings, in one end of several, which were probably made in order to receive cubes to assist in fixing them together. My guide assured me that they had been cut in order to steady the stone on the head of the giant who carried it. In some of the smaller pieces there are lewis holes.

On the 1st of September I left Castel Vetrano, and proceeded over naked hills to Calatafimi. We here again cross beds of selenite, and of a white, argillaceous rock, which forms rounded eminences, and afterwards, hills of a porous carbonate of lime. These are more broken and varied than the former, and many of the mountains at a distance are exceedingly abrupt in their forms. At Salemi the tops are of conglomerate, which seems to lie on the calcareous beds. The next morning a ride of about four miles brought me from Calatafimi to Segesta, where there is a temple remarkable for having all the columns of the external peristyle still erect, while the cell has disappeared. There are, however, some traces of foundations, but the soil is entirely rock, and these were perhaps only erected to make good deficiencies in the level, without determining the position of the walls. The architecture has neither great beauty, nor decided singularity, when compared with other Sicilian buildings, but it is unfinished, and this, though a source of imperfection, generally exhibits some circumstances in the mode of proceeding which render the ruin more interesting. These columns are not fluted, and whether the artist proposed that they should be so may be doubted, though it was probably intended to rework the whole surface. On the steps, and in some blocks of the frieze, the projections left for raising them into their places are still seen. The progress was curious, for while in the steps, the arrisses are formed correctly as guides for finishing the work, and the general face is left rough; in the abaci of the capitals, the face was worked and the angles left, in order that they might not be injured in the placing; and a similar method was adopted in the architraves. The situation of this edifice is singular, as there is neither sea-port nor productive plain in its immediate neighbourhood. Various ruins of buildings belonging to the ancient city may be observed on a hill just by the temple. The principal of these is the Theatre. The building is of a gray limestone, containing very compressed nodules of flint; the whole cavea remains, reclining against the slope of the hill, but the natural curve being insufficient, it has been made out by art. There is a doorway in each flank wall, with an opening to a descending passage under the sedile. This doorway is only 2 feet 2 inches wide, and the head is semicircular. This part is not however constructed of wedges, but cut out of a single stone.

After a stay of six hours at Segesta, I resumed my route to Alcamo, which is seated on an elevated plain, intersected by winding valleys, and sheltered by surrounding mountains, but open to the sea. It is fertile and well cultivated. Parthenico, a village at the extremity of this plain, is a most delightful spot. The mountains above it are covered with wood, and a magnificent crag rising above the houses is beautifully fringed with trees. Hence we command the whole plain of Alcamo, containing a mixture of vineyards, olive-grounds, and orchards; and beyond these is the noble bay, with its steep and craggy shores. From Parthenico we ascend the mountains, which after a little time resume their accustomed nakedness, but the road is really a magnificent work, winding along the side of a deep and narrow valley. It rises to a considerable elevation, perhaps 2,000 feet. There were vineyards at the highest parts, but only in warm and sheltered situations. From the summit, one long descent conducted us through Monreale to Palermo, where on my return, I was informed that the packet would not sail for ten days, and that a quarantine had just been established at Naples for all vessels from Palermo, on account of reports of a plague at Tunis, and an infectious fever at Malta; intelligence which, to say the truth, sent me to bed in the dismals, for I am getting very anxious to finish my observations at Naples and Rome, and to return to England and to you.

I have told you nothing about Monreale, which nevertheless deserves notice, both for its situation, and the magnificent Norman Cathedral it contains, rich with marble columns, and the walls covered with ornaments and historical compositions in mosaic, the ground of which is principally gold. It was erected by William the Second, who reigned from 1166 to 1189. The arches are all pointed, but many of the ornaments are like those of our Anglo-Norman period, only instead of being carved, they are for the most part executed in inlaid marbles. Other ornaments are evidently copied from the Roman, and are by no means ill executed. These also are principally in mosaic, or inlaid work, but there is also a portion of very good carving. The western doorway is particularly rich and handsome. The successive projection of the parts is very small, and this character I have already noticed as prevailing also in the Saracenic buildings in Sicily. About Monreale the aloe is very abundant, and I once counted ninety-eight flowering stems in one view. It is employed as a fence, but it is not a good one, for though excellent for one or two years before flowering, yet as the old plant dies immediately afterwards, two or three years elapse before the offsets are sufficiently advanced to supply its place effectually. I sometimes also see the cactus employed as a fence, but after some time the lower part loses its prickles, and men and animals may creep through.

I went to the play the day after my return from Segesta, and saw (will you believe it?^[39]) the whole story of Orlando Furioso cut down into a farce! All those episodes were omitted in which neither Orlando nor Angelica had any share, but everything relating to them was carefully preserved, not excepting Astolpho’s smelling bottle with Orlando’s wits, though Astolpho makes his appearance on the stage merely on this occasion. A character called Lappanio is added, as a servant to Orlando, and this character, or rather this actor, in his native character of a Palermitan buffoon, is pushed into every transaction. As a buffoon he is excellent: he has a great deal of humour, and never betrays the least consciousness of the bursts of laughter which he excites; but as he speaks Sicilian I could not always understand him.

Having been able on the 10th to ascertain that the packet would not depart before the 14th, I determined to employ the interval in seeing the cathedral of Cefalù, built by Roger, the first Norman king of Sicily, in 1146, in consequence of a vow, when he was in danger of shipwreck.

The chief roads, for the distance of from twenty to thirty miles from Palermo, are carriageable, a circumstance which is spoken of with great admiration in Sicily; and a sort of stage goes every day to Termini, which is twenty-three English miles from Palermo. The journey was performed without changing horses in about three hours and a half. We set out a little before four. The road is very pleasant, passing mostly along the shore, except where it crosses the isthmus on which Bagaria is seated. It is in excellent order, and must have been made at considerable expense, for in one place the rock is cut down to the depth of thirty or forty feet to admit it.

I found that two of my companions in this stage were going to Cefalù as well as myself, and I put myself under their guidance. They would not proceed at night, because we had to pass over a well watered plain, producing abundance of rice, but infamous for mal aria. I was therefore conducted to a little inn (perhaps there was no better in the place), and we engaged horses at eleven tarì each to take us to our destination (about twenty-two miles), fixing our time of departure at half-past two in the morning. It was not very punctually adhered to, but we set off at half-past three, which I thought quite early enough, for it was still dark, and reached Cefalù in five hours and a half. The road still follows the shore, but during the latter part of the way, it passes through a delightful country, among vineyards and olive-grounds, with the sea glittering through every opening, and the fine promontories which bound the gulf of Termini occasionally showing themselves. Fine, woody mountains rise gradually from the shore, becoming more abrupt in their upper parts, and presenting here and there a magnificent cliff: behind these, but not in view from Cefalù itself, are the mountains of the Madonnia, a vast mass, which is said to consist of limestone.

The zigzag mouldings, cut billets, and deficiency of mosaics in the essential parts of the architecture, give to the Cathedral more appearance of the Norman style, than is exhibited in that of Palermo. Some of the ornamental arches are acutely pointed, while on the other hand, the principal doorway has a decidedly horse-shoe arch without a point.

Near the cathedral is a building called the House of Roger, which though nearly similar in style, is perhaps somewhat later in date. In the windows three small arches are included in one larger, and all are pointed, and spring on the same line, like those of the upper story of the aisles at Nôtre Dame at Paris.

The old city of Cefalù was upon the hill before Roger founded his cathedral near the shore, but this seems to have drawn down the town into its own neighbourhood. My landlord gave me a sketch of the history of the place. First were the worshippers of idols. Then the Catholics. Then, long before the Saracens, came Diana, whose house may still be seen at the top of the hill. I thought at first this had been the goddess Diana, but I found afterwards that she went to France and married the king’s son. I could not learn who came between her and the Saracens. The latter were driven out by Roger. This house of Diana, at least I believe the fragment which I visited to be what the landlord intended, though my guide said it was the old cathedral, is a very curious structure. It is of Cyclopean masonry, with two rooms and a passage between them: it exhibits three doorways, and appears to have been a dwellinghouse, and if so, is probably quite unique. We have city-walls and terrace-walls of this construction, and a temple at Rhamnus, but no other buildings that I know of anywhere else.

For a Sicilian city of second rate, my accommodations at Cefalù were very good. I could have stayed there two or three days with pleasure, but I was unwilling to risk the loss of the packet. On the 12th therefore, I retraced my way to Termini, where I had more daylight than on the former occasion. The country here also is very beautiful, but the mountains are not so woody as at Cefalù. The baths which have given a name to the place, seem to rise in a breccia containing rounded pebbles of grit and limestone. They are salt, and merely tepid, as the hand may be held in them without inconvenience. The base of the rock on which the castle stands is of a gray limestone, with nodules of a yellowish brown colour, and veins of white; it is topped with a coarse grit in thin strata. Beyond Termini I noticed a white, argillaceous rock, and I was told that gypsum is dug about half-way between Termini and Cefalù; nearer the latter city the soil is of grit, but the hills at that place consist of a fœtid limestone abounding in shells. It will take a polish, and is used as marble.

The next morning I resumed my post in the diligence from Termini to Palermo. One of the company was a young citizen of Palermo, who complained frequently that he had not sufficient respect paid to him on that account. “One would think all here were cavaliers, a Palermitan is not worth attention.” He did not seem to obtain his object by these complaints, but they were made without ill-humour, and nobody denied his claims or laughed at them. The Sicilians are a vain people. They are frequently telling you how much the Sicilians have done, even if they are obliged to go back to Archimedes to find it out, and to remind you that the Syracusans defeated the forces which the Athenians sent against them; forgetting that it could be no great praise for a city which, according to their own account, contained two millions of people, to defeat the forces of one of eighty thousand. They also frequently refer to the Sicilian vespers; an event of which I trust we should be far from proud in England.

The passage in the packet from Palermo to Naples cost nine ounces, an ounce being two Sicilian dollars and a half; and for this the passenger is spesato, i. e. provided with as much food as he pleases, and each has a little room to himself which is numbered, and on taking his place he may secure any unoccupied number he pleases. We were ordered on board at half-past five on the 16th, and as I did not learn this till near five, on returning from a walk, my things were packed up in a great hurry. I soon found, however, that there was no reason to be uneasy, and went to the play to see Lappanio once more. A little after midnight the passengers went on board, and at about three o’clock on the morning of the 17th we left the harbour. The packet would have entered the bay of Naples on the 18th, if the captain had not made a mistake of ten miles in his position, which threw us to the south, while a strong wind from the north-west prevented us from recovering the consequence of the error, and it was not till about noon on the 20th, that we entered the port. The quarantine regulations had been repealed, a few petty fees carried us through the custom-house, and I resumed possession of my old quarters at the Locanda della Speranzella.