full of gaily-dressed ladies and merry children, the pavements with foot-passengers of innumerable beggars, that they could only crawl along at snails' pace; but that was all the better for Lina, as it gave her an opportunity of eagerly gazing at the wonderful confectioners' shops, which indeed are nowhere more tempting than in Palermo, and far surpassed any that our little heroine had ever

seen.

These shops were all filled with customers, and outside loungers of all ranks were flattening their noses against the glass in rapt contemplation of the dainties within.

How glad Lina was when kind Uncle Pasquale stopped the carriage at the door of one of these glittering shops, in the most crowded part of the street, and leading the children in, bade Lina choose whatever she liked best! The child looked round bewildered at all the beautiful tempting things.

"What shall I take, mamma?" she whispered appealingly, tugging her mother's dress.

"What you like, dear, but nothing very big, you

know," suggested Mrs. Gerard, alarmed lest Lina might select one of the big flat sugared cakes adorned with a variety of gilded and coloured flowers, worthy of Mr. Gunter's finest Twelfth-cakes, that were ranged on the counter. Lina's eyes roved confusedly among a bright array of sugar saints, eatable children, mushrooms and fir-cones of almond paste, and all sorts of strange and wonderful animals, and, after a few moments of hesitation in favour of a huge lump of brown nougat and fascinating bun-shaped cakes from which cream was oozing on all sides, at last succeeded in pleasing both her eyes and her palate by fixing on a superb lamb in pure white sugar with a bright pink tail and ears. Rosalia was already munching an elephant of the same description, while Ciccio, who, boy-like, preferred size to appearance, was the proud possessor of an enormous and particularly sticky cake stuffed with candied fruits. Uncle Pasquale was buying chocolate bonbons in so reckless a manner that Mrs. Gerard hurried the party back to the carriage as quickly as possible, and, luckily, Lina admired her lamb so

much that she could not make up her mind to eat it, and only nibbled away one of its ears and the tip of its tail during the whole of the drive.

Presently they drew up before a resplendent toyshop, on the other side of the way, and Uncle Pasquale, after mysteriously muttering something about certain little nephews, jumped out, and made his way in through a crowd of vociferous beggars (who forthwith besieged the carriage), without even offering to take the children with him, whereat Ciccio looked very knowing, and in spite of Rosalia's warning nudge, whispered to Lina:

"I told you so. Papa is gone to buy the dead presents for to-morrow."

Lina's eyes dilated in a frightened way, she left off playing with her lamb, and could not repress a slight shudder at the sight of the parcels her uncle was presently stowing away in the back of the carriage.

"What's the matter, my little one?" anxiously asked Mrs. Gerard, who knew nothing of the scene with Ciccio in the morning, as she noticed the change that had come over her child's face.

"Nothing, mamma," whispered Lina, pinching her mother's arm; "that is, I'll tell you all about it to-night."

Again the carriage stopped; this time before the steps leading up into the Piazza Pretoria, where there was a wonderful fountain, one of the finest in Europe, to be looked at and admired. Out danced the children, followed at a more sober pace by Signor Altovito and Mrs. Gerard.

"Ha, ha! you have nothing like this in your Florence," shouted Ciccio, partly because he liked teasing, partly because he couldn't as yet make up his mind to forgive his cousin for being taller than he was; and when Lina was unwillingly obliged to confess that her dear Florence had indeed no fountain to compare with this one, that patriotic little Palermitan would have stood on his head, in token of triumph, had not his father damped his enthusiasm by remarking that this glory of Palermo was, after all, the work of Florentine sculptors.

And now I think I must try to make a wordpicture of this great fountain for the benefit of

those of my little readers who have only seen the insignificant little basins in Trafalgar Square, or still smaller ones, perhaps, on their own lawns. First of all, there is a wide open space paved with marble and surrounded by a marble balustrade, with an opening facing each side of the Piazza, flanked by colossal figures, called Hermae. From each of these four openings a flight of steps, bordered with statues of gods and goddesses, heroes and nymphs, leads up to the great basin, and these flights of stairs are divided one from the other by large reservoirs, into which water is splashing and dancing from the mouths of colossal heads of camels, bears, elephants, rams, bulls, and creatures of unknown species. From the large central basin spring three smaller ones, the first supported by huge, grotesque figures, called, as Lina learnt afterwards, Winged Harpies, and on its rim are four marble geese, in lifelike attitudes. A strange sort of pillar, resting on sea-horses, and formed of a group of boys and dolphins, supports the second small basin, and from this rises another group,