effects that musical divinity produced at Padua, where he performed a
few years ago, and threw his audience into such raptures, that it was
some time before they recovered. One in particular, a lady of
distinction, fainted away the instant she caught the pathetic accents
of his voice, and was near dying a martyr to its melody. La Contessa
Roberti, who sings in the truest taste, gave me a detail of the whole
affair. "Egli ha fatto veramente un fanatismo a Padua," was her
expression. I assured her we were not without idolatry in England,
upon his account; but that in this, as well as in other articles of
belief, there were many abominable heretics.

August 1st.--The whole morning not a soul stirred who could avoid it.
Those who were so active and lively the night before, were now
stretched languidly upon their couches. Being to the full as idly
disposed, I sat down and wrote some of this dreaming epistle; then
feasted upon figs and melons; then got under the shade of the
cypress, and slumbered till evening, only waking to dine, and take
some ice.

The sun declining apace, I hastened to my engagement at Mosolente
(for so is the villa called), placed on a verdant hill encircled by
others as lovely, and consisting of three light pavilions connected
by porticos: just such as we admire in the fairy scenes of an opera.
A vast flight of steps leads to the summit, where Signora Roberti and
her friends received me with a grace and politeness that can never
want a place in my memory. We rambled over all the apartments of
this agreeable edifice, characterised by airiness and simplicity.
The pavement incrusted with a composition as cool and polished as
marble; the windows, doors, and balconies adorned with silvered, iron
work, commanding scenes of meads and woodlands that extend to the