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ment to Sicily, or even renouncing the island altogether, provided they could obtain guarantees for the immunity of their territory on the mainland. Wellnigh distracted, their envoys were vainly bowing and vowing in London, Paris, and Turin. This brings us to the present phase of state comedy in Europe, and of affairs at Palermo, where I arrived on the 18th of July.

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PALERMO BAY.

CHAPTER VII.

PALERMO, 18th July.

THERE is a fascination about the Bay of Palermo to my mind which that of Naples does not possess ; whether it is more compact and magnificent, or the luscious tints of the Conca d'Oro surpass those of Ischia, I know not, but there is a grandeur in the beauties of this bay, whereas at Naples all is voluptuous and effeminate and as we draw near on this beaming morning, and the old familiar headlands. grow more and more distinct, I am involuntarily carried back to the days of the '48 revolution, when I was stationed here in the "Bellerophon," long since "broken up,” as indeed are many of her crew. Our "excursionists" are crowding the rigging to gain a glimpse of their promised land; some are donning red shirts in honour of the occasion-the Sardinian greatcoat speaks for the former occupation of many; and the Bersiglieri seem particularly tenacious of their cocks' feathers. All, however, are orderly in the extreme, and seem fully impressed with the seriousness of their mission. Generally, they are a powerful well-made set

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of men, giving one the idea of their being old soldiers; and, to judge from their size, the north Italian element predominates. There are a few boys amongst them of twelve and fourteen. Garibaldi has a penchant for adolescenti, as they term them. Amongst the 400 or 500 men with which the decks are crowded, are representatives of every nation of Europe save our own-Hungarians, French, Germans of every hue, and one or two Americans. Many Piedmontese officers turn out in the Piedmontese uniform, and here and there may be seen our Crimean medal. All look of the right stuff for an army, and have implicit confidence in the man whom they are going to serve.

And now, as we are rapidly nearing the anchorage, for a brief sketch of this gorgeous bay. Its western limit, the Conca d'Oro, under which we are running, surpasses its appellation, as it reflects the myriad rays of the morning sun, and glitters in innumerable forms and tints, supported by the party-coloured cliffs of Monte Pellegrino, crowned with the shrine of Santa Rosalia, the patron saint of Palermo. Ahead, a vast amphitheatre of mountains backs the bay, their deep blue peaks blending with the lofty spine which traverses the northern shores of Sicily. Numerous spurs, laden with an almost tropical vegetation, run down to embrace the sea; on them are sprinkled villages and churches in profusion.

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ARRIVAL AT PALERMO.

Away east the view is lost towards the towns of Termini and Cefala-nearer, the taper promontory which margins the eastern shores of the bay is strewed with palaces in the vicinity of Bagaria; whilst in the gorges of the mountains lie Misilmeri, Parco, and Monreale, the scene of Garibaldi's famous flank-march prior to forcing his way into Palermo; the domes and pinnacles of the city itself are now rapidly rising at the head of the bay, bosomed in a bed of gardens and vineyards, which run down the mountain slopes and across the plain on which the town is built into the sea.

Three Sardinian and an English frigate are lying at anchor, and a white heat has already begun to dance over the town, as we round the Mole, where the new-comers are received by tribes of this Arab population with an endless "evivaing" and clapping of hands. There is a deal of method in their applause, evidently the result of two months' unbridled use of their tongues. A red-shirted boy on guard at the lighthouse, who throws down his musket to get freer use of lungs and limbs, marks the change of dynasty ; but as we advance amid a maze of "speronaroes," screw steamers, and polaccas, the Garibaldian element becomes more conspicuous, modified on all occasions with the Savoy cross, emblematic of their ultimate wishes. The majority of the steamers either belong to or are chartered by Garibaldi; some are discharging

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"excursionists," others heavy guns and matériel. That ungainly old paddle, which has been running between London and Leith any time since the application of steam, is embarking the remainder of the reserve, which Garibaldi takes with him to-night to reinforce Medici at Barcelona. No passports bar the way; they are abolished between Italian ports. All is in the easy-going groove of '48, and certainly is refreshing, after the provokingly cool impudence which characterised the Neapolitan official. Released from an inquisitive boatman-who, not satisfied with knowing how I came, why I came, and where I came from, insisted on strongly advising me to take service in the national cause-I started in a 66 carrozza round the head of the port for Ragusa's Trinacria Hotel, on the Marina, just beyond the Porta Felice.

In vain I looked for traces of Vandalism in the populous suburbs banked under the Pellegrino and round the head of the harbour, until I came to the Quartiere del Albergheria, in the neighbourhood of the Castello. Here, in one district, not one stone was left on another. The bombardment and consequent fires had left a mere heap of ruins. As for the Castello, the demolition of this Sicilian-Hispano-Bourbonic Bastile was proceeding, it is true, but in a very desultory manner. Its sea-face remained intact. The crest of the ramparts alone, on the town side, had been