as cast aside his swaddling-clothes, and broken the string
by which his nurse (the Roman Church) held him, and, in the madness
and intoxication of his holiday, has rounded the globe, has traversed
all nations, has scaled the Himalayas, and, returning again to Mother
Earth, has begun to meditate over the wonders of creation by day, and
the stars of heaven by night. We know not, indeed, nor ever shall,
perhaps, the number of the stars that shine in the canopy of heaven;
we have not yet unveiled the dread mysteries of earth or of sea.
Enough: many enigmas are resolved; we know much--we guess at still
more. There remains one question unsolved--it is this: Is there more
real felicity in our minds now than there was in ancient times? I will
confess that if we look at the many, now-a-days, we could scarcely
answer this question in the affirmative; yet, it must also be
remembered that happiness, which is in part due to mental tyranny, is
scarcely true happiness, and that in the few moments of real
intellectual dignity some educated man can enjoy more real felicity
than the uneducated coal-heaver during many years of uninquiring
tranquillity.

But while, with a certain benevolence, I was dilating on the
intentions of the Roman Church, I find myself all of a sudden seized
with a zeal worthy of Exeter Hall. So I return to my Gozo friends.
Living among these simple, Christian islanders, of Moorish descent,
one is apt to meditate on the mighty transformations which have swept
over Europe and left them untouched.

The reason I recommend the route _via_ Malta and Tunis, instead of
passing by Algiers, as I did, is the miserable accommodation on board
the steamers between Tunis and Algiers. The passengers on these boats
are chiefly bagmen and colonists of different nations. We had a
Savoyard, a Spaniard, and two or three Frenchmen and Italians at one
table; and the noise, and row, and heat after dinner were very
edifying. Bottles were quickly emptied, and heads as quickly filled.
One of the guests sung songs; another neighed; a third shouted in
tragic verse; a fourth spoke Latin; and a fifth preached temperance; a
sixth gave himself out for a professor, and his lecture was nearly as
follows:--"The earth, my friends, is a cylinder, and men are but
little diminutive dots spread over its surface, apparently at hazard;
but _voila_, the cylinder takes a fancy to turn, the little dots are
hustled about, some here, others there, and so emit