The abbey of Monreale demanded our first visit:

The

but I shall not describe it, save to say that the panellings of the nave are coated with mosaics in a finer style even than those we saw in Rome. greatest, because worthiest, name heard here is that of Archbishop Testa, who during his occupation of the See was the friend and father of the poor. IIe fed them, clothed them, educated them, and pleaded their cause with the mighty. "Ma," added our guide, "è morto quell' uomo venerabile, e adesso sono ritornati nella miseria." Certes the patriarchal dispensation was incant to abide, in substance, under all outward changes: we err in thinking to confine its exhibition to the limits of the family, or rather sovereigns should remember that for them the nation is the family, and that to deem otherwise will narrow their minds and cheat them of their true dignity.

Testa lived like a patriarch: his heart expanded as his family increased, and the revenues of his See, the influence of his name, the fruit of his studies, the hours of his time, the watchful travail of his spirit, were given to the flock of Christ.

After Monreale, we started on a visit to the Temple of Segesta, fifty miles distant. The drive

down upon Borghetto and across the Castellamare tract, and the pass of the Monreale, is very fine: the latter often reminding me of the pass of Leny in Perthshire. The greater part of the landscape exhibits open plains interspersed with boulders of rock, some of them rising to several hundred feet in height, and beautifully coloured. Arrived at Calatafimi we halted for the night, not without a 'presentiment of what awaited us. The inn, so called, is a disorderly cow-house, into which both pigs and mules intrude: an abominable loft overhead receives you hungry and tired, and here you must keep the windows open or else choke. We had taken the precaution of bringing our own sheets, one of Shamoy leather included, and a few ounces of tea: these with patience and hope of the morning kept up our courage during a night of fierce contention with a marching host. When day broke I hailed our landlady with the an-, nouncement "Padrona, quanti pulci!" "Sicuro " ("to be sure") was her response. And yet you are expected to write "contentissimi" opposite your names in the travellers' book. But all sublunary troubles have a limit: as the day broke we broke our fast, and were off with mules and a

donkey on a four-mile ride through the early dews to the heights above, where once stood Segesta, to forget our sleepless sorrows in contemplating a Greek Temple and the remains of a theatre.

How strong has ever been in a Roman mind the leaning to omens, specially in the matter of a name! The masters of the world, when they took into amity and alliance this city, claiming a common origin with themselves in Trojan ancestors, shrank from the poverty-stricken sound of "Egesta❞ and rebaptized it "Segesta."

Pyrrhus with his elephants, or IIannibal with his heavy armed infantry, were scarcely so formidable in the eyes of the S. P. Q. R., as an unlucky crow, or sacred chickens who refused to eat. After climbing a pretty stiff brae we came upon the classic ground; a situation as fine as that of Pæstum, and one calling up grander ideas.

The Temple is larger in its dimensions than that of Neptune, and pure Doric. The columns are formed of cylindrical blocks like millstones, of very unequal thickness; towards the centre of each column there is a considerable bulge: these are not channelled, as those at Pæstum, but they are loftier, and the proportions of the entire struc