were just such as you have created to complete a prospect. I was the
only human being in the misty extent of the gardens, and was happier
in my solitude than I can describe. No noise disturbed its silence,
except the flutter of moths and trickling of fountains. These
undecided sounds, corresponding with the dimness and haze of the
scenery, threw me into a pensive state of mind, neither gay nor
dismal. I recapitulated the wayward adventures of my childhood, and
traced back each moment of a period, which had seen me happy. Then,
turning my thoughts towards future days, my heart beat at the idea of
that awful veil which covers the time to come. One moment, 'twas the
brightest hope that glittered behind it; the next, a series of
melancholy images clouded the perspective. Thus, alternately swayed
by fears and exultation, I passed an interesting hour in the
twilight, ranging amongst the orange trees, or reclined by the
fountain. I could not boast of being perfectly satisfied, since
those were absent, without whom not even the fields of Enna could be
charming. However, I was far from displeased with the clear streams
that bubbled around, and could willingly have dropped asleep by their
margin. Had I reposed in so romantic a situation, the murmurs of
trees and waters would doubtless have invited "some strange
mysterious dream" to hover over me, and perhaps futurity might have
been unveiled.



LETTER VIII



July 11th.--Let those who delight in picturesque country repair to