uous priests and cowled monks, all mingling
indiscriminately; while persistent, whining, half-clad beggars are
present everywhere. Verily, it is a motley group one encounters upon
this principal street of the Maltese capital.

Having once promenaded the Strada Reale from the fortress of St. Elmo to
the Floriana Gate, lined from the beginning to the end with quaint
yellow buildings, green projecting balconies, prominent statues of
saints, and filled with a variety of colors generally which a painter's
palette could hardly excel, an American is not likely soon to forget the
brilliant picture of foreign life which it presents. In our own country,
nothing like it is seen off the theatrical stage.

As regards the faldetta, or dark hood, which screens the faces of the
Maltese women, though a popular legend ascribes its origin to the time
of the French invasion, our own idea is quite different. Its adoption is
most probably connected with the Oriental veil or yashmak of the Eastern
women. It came into use, doubtless, upon these islands during the
dominion of the Arabs, and has been handed down from mother to daughter
ever since. It is purely for street wear. Within the house, at the
theatre, or other public entertainments, variety in dress is not
wanting, nor the dazzling brilliancy of diamonds and other precious
stones, to set off in attractive style the rich brown complexion, dreamy
eyes, and fine features of the Maltese ladies. The effect of this
peculiar hood as worn in public is both nun-like and coquettish,--a
seeming anomaly; but it is quite correct. The average woman of this
mid-sea group speaks a universal language with her dark, expressive
eyes, though only Maltese with her lips.

Society, as the term is commonly used, is rather peculiar in Valletta,
and is divided into many cliques. There is plenty of gayety, such as is
always to be met with in a great naval and military depot. Many of the
conventionalities of English home life are dropped here, as they are
inevitably in Her Majesty's Indian possessions, or at Hong Kong. All
colonial life is apt to be a little lax, so to speak, just a trifle
fast. Ennuied by their semi-isolation and circumscribed resources, even
cultured people are liable to grow careless as regards the nice
refinements of society. There are several clubs whose object is of a
literary character. A well-organized society for the prevention of
cruelty to animals exists here, also one to promote agri