rock, and is protected by a bastion, which defends it from the sea. The papyrus grows here in great luxuriance, and the party gathered some as a specimen, having first duly drank the anciently sacred water. Resuming their carriages, their kind guide now conducted them outside the town to the interesting church and crypt of San Marzian, the first church of Sicily, built on the spot where St. Paul preached during his three days' stay in Syracuse. It is a simple, massive building, of the shape of a Greek cross, and contains the episcopal chair of St. Marzian. Here also is the Tomb of the Saint, who was the proto-martyr of Sicily. Near the tomb is the rude stone altar where St. Paul said Mass. A column of gray granite is shown as that to which St. Marzian was attached for the scourging previous to his execution it is tinged with his blood. The crypt, however, is the most sacred spot. Here came the Apcstles St. Peter and St. Paul, with the Evangelists St. Mark and St. Luke, on their successive visits to the holy bishop, St. Marzian; where also the local tradition affirms that St. Mark was martyred. The curious font now in the cathedral was found in this crypt, and was probably used for the baptism of many of the early Pagan converts. Adjoining is the place of St. Marzian's martyrdom. The church itself is built over the site of an ancient temple of Bacchus. Leading out of a side door is the entrance to the catacombs, which are more extensive than even those of Naples or Rome, and abound in Christian emblems: crosses, palmbranches, the dove, and other Catholic symbols, are rudely carved on all the vaults and niches, with here and there an early fresco of the Blessed Virgin and Child, or a Greek inscription.

From the catacombs our travellers crossed the plain, thickly studded with ancient columns, sarcophagi, and remains of Greek and Roman buildings, till they came to the little church of St. Nicolo. Underneath is a reservoir with an aqueduct, leading to the great amphitheatre; the principal monument left of Roman work in Syracuse, and still in perfect preservation. Recent excavations have cleared the space, so that the seats and arena are clearly visible. From the amphitheatre, a five-minutes' walk leads to the Latomia del Paradiso a quarry containing in its further recesses the famous Ear of Dionysius. This cavern was excavated by the tyrant for a prison, and so constructed that the faintest whisper could be heard in the chamber above, where he sat listening to the conversation of his victims. It is to be supposed that the listener, according to the proverb, rarely heard any good of himself. It is a wonderfully picturesque spot; the sides of the quarry being lined with fruit-trees and ferns and flowering shrubs, mingled with masses of fallen rock and fragments of ancient masonry. Pistols were fired off by the guides

to let the party hear the full force of the echo, which is tremendous. Round a deep spring at the further end of the cavern grew the most beautiful maiden-hair fern. Close by is the Greek theatre, the largest in Sicily, hollowed out of the rock, and capable of containing more than 20,000 spectators.

Returning home to luncheon, the ladies visited on their way the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, who are lodged in one of the fine old medieval palaces of Syracuse, with beautifully carved windows and doorways. But it is very much out of repair, and very inconvenient for their large orphanage. There are only six or seven Sisters here. Their Superior is a charming person, and only another proof, if one were needed in that wonderful religious Order, of the way in which energy, zeal, and, above all, a burning charity, can triumph over the sufferings entailed by a delicate frame and sickly constitution.

After luncheon our travellers started again to meet Monsignor Bat the cathedral. It is built on the site of an ancient temple of Minerva, but has been ruined by modern churchwardenship and whitewash. There are two fine side chapels, however; one dedicated to the Blessed Sacrament, the other to St. Lucia, in which is exposed a large silver figure of the saint of great antiquity. The font, of which notice has been taken above, is of marble, supported by seven fine bronze lions. There is a beautiful renaissance doorway leading to the sacristy. A beautiful Benediction Service with Litany was being sung; after which the relics and treasures were examined, which include a beautiful chalice of amber, cut out of one piece, and a pastoral ring of great size and value. In the Place, or court of the cathedral, are fourteen fine columns of Cipollino marble, supposed to have formed part of the ancient Temple of Ceres. Opposite the north door of the cathedral is the museum, containing all the antiquities lately discovered in Syracuse and its neighbourhood. The finest is a beautiful torso, a Venus of the best date of Greek art. There are also some very fine cameos and medals. The day was closed by a sweetly-sung Benediction at the orphanage of the Sisters of Charity.

The next morning, after a day-break Mass at the cathedral, one of the party breakfasted with the Archbishop, who afterwards showed her his palace and gardens, which are very fine. In the latter grew the largest citrons she had ever seen, very nearly equalling the gigantic oranges at Jaffa. Adjoining his garden-wall is a convent of Benedictine nuns, which was likewise visited. The good-natured Prefect then insisted on taking the whole party in his carriages to the Franciscan convent of St. Lucia outside the town. There is an interesting Norman church attached to it, raised over the site of the saint's martyrdom; and a granite column is shown as that to which she was

fastened on the occasion. Her tomb is cut in the rock at the back of the altar, underneath which is a fine statue of the saint by Bernini.

From this spot a narrow lane, traversing vineyards fenced by stone walls, leads to the convent of Sta. Maria di Gesù, in front of which is a fine stone cross. Passing by an aqueduct in very tolerable preservation, and by a succession of old tombs cut in the cliff, our party arrived at the Capuchin convent-a fortified building, with fosse and drawbridge and machicolated battlements. A little gate at the side led them into the Latomie, or quarries, from whence the stone was taken to build the city. Here is one of the most beautiful spots in the neighbourhood of Syracuse. It is a vast pit, about a hundred feet in depth, and of many acres in extent, planted with oranges, citrons, pomegranates, figs, and cypresses, with an undergrowth of roses, arums, acanthus, ferns, and creepers of every kind, and overrun with ivy and wild vine. The whole is walled in by lofty gray cliffs hung with creepers; and from the midst of this wilderness of beautiful and almost rank vegetation rise two tall insulated masses of rock, with an ancient flight of steps cut in the side of one of them, but now inaccessible. The cliffs are hollowed into vast halls or caverns, in one of which the Prefect told our travellers that he had given a fête to Prince Alfred on his first visit to Syracuse. The kind old monk who had been their escort brought them fruit, bread, and wine in this deliciously cool retreat, and sat a long time talking of the Holy Land, where he had been, and which he was delighted to find was equally well known and appreciated by his guests. Here and there, imbedded in the rocks, are traces of ancient sepultures; and one or two Protestant epitaphs on the cliffs prove that the quarries have, even in late days, been used for purposes of burial.

Leaving this beautiful spot with great regret, and acceding to the request of the good old monk that they would first pray with him for a few minutes in the church for a blessing on the Holy Land Mission, our travellers visited one or two more of the antiquities in the neighbourhood, including the recently-excavated Baths of Diana, full of beautiful marbles and mosaics; the Sepulchral Road, the perpendicular sides of which are lined with niches for cinerary urns; the tombs of Archimedes and Timoleon, and other interesting remains of Greek and Roman times; after which they returned once more to the city and to the museum, where the collection of natural history had yet to be seen, which contains everything most interesting of the kind in Sicily, and also the library. The latter contains priceless treasures, of which the most remarkable are—a rare copy of the Gospel of St. John, of the twelfth century; a Koran on paper, of 1199, brought from Egypt by Lord Nelson, and given by him to the

Cavalier Landolina, who was the real founder of the library; a very fine block-book, a replica of one of those in the Wilton library; and many beautifully illuminated martyrologies and missals.

Nothing can be kinder or more hospitable than the residents of Syracuse. The visit of our travellers was necessarily too limited in point of time to enable them to profit by it; but every one offered their carriage and horses, and put their palaces, not figuratively, but actually à leur disposition. There are still some beautiful medieval palaces in the town, especially the Palazzo Montalto, with its pointed windows and dog-tooth mouldings. It bears also some curious Gothic inscriptions, like the houses at Avila, and with the date 1397.

A charming boating excursion was made by one or two of the party from Syracuse to the Fountain of Cyane, up the river Anapus, the only spot in Europe where the papyrus still grows wild. Nothing remains of the Temple of Jupiter Olympus, which one visits by the way, but two broken columns. But there is a lovely sketch a little further on of a ruined bridge, with a date-palm overhanging the stream, and a foreground of magnificent tangled vegetation of reeds, sugar-cane, acanthus, iris, and every kind of aquatic plants, and which the slow progress of one's boat through the weeds enables one fully to enjoy. The Anapus leads into the Cyane, which is a far clearer stream, but very narrow. Here the papyrus grows luxuriantly among flags and castor-oil plants. It was sent from Egypt by Ptolemy to King Hieron II., and has flourished ever since. Struggling up the narrow stream and through the choking mass of vegetation, which threatened to close the passage altogether, our travellers' boat at last arrived at a beautiful circular basin, fringed with papyrus and purple iris; the water, very deep, was clear as crystal, and swarming with fish. This was known in old times as the famous "dark blue spring," converted by heathen mythology into a nymph; and an annual festival was held here in honour of Ceres. Now it is utterly deserted, save by an occasional traveller or sportsman seeking food for his gun from the multitude of snipes and wild fowl which resort to its banks and make their nests in its undisturbed and reedy shores. That same evening our travellers returned to Catania, charmed with their expedition, and full of gratitude for all the kindness which had been showered upon them.

The following morning found one of the party very early at the convent of her old friends the Benedictines, where the Superior received her with his usual fatherly kindness, and presented her, as a surprise, with the Deed of Affiliation to their Order, which he had obtained for her from Monte Cassino; together with a picture of the Saint and the miraculous Medal or Cross of St. Benedict, with

its mysterious letters, C.S. S. M. L. (Crux sacra sit mihi lux), a medal always given by St. Vincent de Paul to his Sisters of Charity, as a defence in the many perils of their daily lives. Once more the traveller heard that glorious music, which, beautiful at all times, is so especially thrilling at the Benediction service. The organ begins with a low, sweet, wailing sound, to which those beautiful and cultivated voices respond: and then bursts into thunder, expressing, as far as mortal instrument can, the glorious majesty of God. It was the Feast of St. Monica: that saint so dear to every widowed mother's heart; and the fact, in connection with the English stranger, had not been forgotten by the kind Abbate, who came up and whispered to her as she knelt before Mass: "My child, the prayers and communions of the community this day will be offered up for you, that you may follow in the steps of St. Monica, and finally reap her reward."

Returning at seven to the hotel, the whole party started once more for Nicolosi, on their way to undertake the more formidable ascent of Etna. Arriving, after a four-hours' drive, at the house of their old friend Professor Gemmellaro, they found he had kindly made every arrangement for their start; and after about an hour's delay in settling the pack-saddles, packing up provisions for the night, and arranging every thing with the guides, they mounted their mules and began the ascent. For some miles they passed through a tract of lava, sprinkled here and there with broom and heather, till they reached a cattle-shed, called Casa di Rinazzi, where they came to a picturesque wood of dwarf oak looking like the outskirts of an English park. From thence to Casa del Bosco the road is both easy and pleasant, and our travellers began to think that the difficulties of the ascent (to people who had crossed, as they had done, the Lebanon in deep snow) would be comparatively trifling. They soon, however, discovered their mistake. At the Casa del Bosco they stopped to rest their mules and make some tea, while the guides advised them to put on as much additional clothing as they could for the coming cold. The peasants were at work round them collecting the snow in reservoirs close to the cavern called the Grotta delle Capre-that snow so invaluable to the dwellers in the plain, and the sole substitute for ice to the inhabitants of Catania.

But here the real toil of the ascent begins. It is only nine miles from hence to the summit; but those nine miles are terribly severe, not only from their steepness, but from the nature of the ground, composed of a black loose ash, interspersed with sharply-pointed lava rocks, on which you tread and stumble, and seem to recede two steps for every one you take. As you ascend higher the snow conceals the