TO CAPTAIN SMITH. Cagliari, September 1st. MY DEAR FRIEND, ON the 16th of last month, we weighed anchor off the harbour of Carthagena, and sailed out of the bay, between the rock and the continent, to the great astonishment of the Spaniards: but, although one might almost make hands with them on each side, there is no danger in a steady breeze; for the shore is so bold, that, whilst we had soundings in fourteen fathoms on one side of the ship, we found no bottom with a line of twenty on the other. The wind favoured us for some hours; but, before night, it got back to its old quarter, the east, and continued there, Early the next morning, we got prattick, with an invitation to dine with the Viceroy, Count St. AndrÉ. Three carriages were sent to carry us to the palace. The dinner was in the French stile, and the head dish in the second course was half a young wild boar, roasted entire: it was superior to any pork I ever tasted. We had no wine but at dinner, and one glass of liqueur after the desert. The principal people of the island were invited to Villarias has captured all our hearts. I have often endeavoured to form an idea of Eve in her state of innocence, but never succeeded until I saw this charming Marchesa. With the first rank and fashion, she is a child of Nature, and Nature in perfection. Her limbs are most elegantly turned, and her beautiful shape is neither distorted by stays, nor encumbered by a load of false croupion. It is impossible to describe how such a woman moves. She is of the middle size, and in the prime of youth. Her face is equal to her person, brunette, with lovely black eyes, whose expression gives full force to the vivacity of her conversation. Pasqua possesses every attraction but that of drawing one from Villarias. In their manners, the Sardinian ladies are more like the French. They say every thing that comes uppermost, and have no idea of reserve. You kiss their hands as a mere compliment; and, in dancing, whenever you turn a lady, she expects you to put your arm round her waist, whilst her's rests on your shoulder. This frankness is vastly pleasant, and is here of no evil tendency; for, in a confined society, secluded from the general world, where the characters and their connections are thoroughly known, and where the number of the profligate is too small to find either countenance or protection, |