MY DEAR FRIEND,

After a pleasant passage of scarce forty hours, at day-break on the 26th ult. we found ourselves in sight of Palermo. Nothing can be more picturesque than this bay. It forms a large amphitheatre, with the Capital of Sicily in the center, surrounded, for some miles, by a most beautiful country, interspersed with villas, and inclosed by romantic rocks and mountains. A calm, which lasted several hours, gave us an opportunity of admiring this beautiful scene at our leisure; and in the afternoon we anchored in the mole.

The town was formerly surrounded by a strong wall, but the fortifications are now entirely neglected, except towards the sea, where there are still a few weak works.

Prince Caramanico, the Viceroy, was lately Ambassador at London. We paid our respects to him the morning after our arrival, and he gave us a state dinner the next day. But we have seen nothing of him since.

Our stay here is rendered remarkable by the sudden death of Prince Palagonia.

Whilst other men endeavoured to reach the Temple of Fame, by making art equal nature in her most captivating forms, this Prince struck out a new road, by producing such monsters as nature, however perverted, could never have brought forth. With him, whoever designed the most ridiculous and unnatural object, became the greatest artist. He had a number of sculptors and stone-cutters constantly employed for upwards of thirty years, and their productions amount to near a thousand pieces. But notwithstanding the great encouragement he gave, and the ample field he held out, very few of his statues display either genius, execution, or invention. Some of them, indeed, are as extravagant as he could wish, but even these are extravagant without humour, from the total want of connection in the members. We sometimes laugh at a body a little deformed, because the parts that compose it may be set in a ridiculous point of view; but where they are totally heterogeneous, and unconnected, we may be surprised, but cannot be pleased. The principal pieces are birds and beasts with human heads, and men with the heads of beasts.

Whilst we were beholding this grotesque collection with a smile, half of pity, and half of contempt, I was struck by an antique bust of Cleopatra, by much the most beautiful I ever saw; but its owner set so little value upon it, that it is stuck against the outside of his house, with another of M. Anthony, nearly as good.

The dead at Palermo are never buried; but their bodies are carried to the Capuchin Convent, where, after the funeral service is performed, they are dried in a stove, heated by a composition of lime, which makes the skin adhere to the bones. They are then placed erect in niches, and fastened to the wall by the back or neck. A piece of coarse drab is thrown over the shoulders, and round the waist; and their hands are tied together, holding a piece of paper with their epitaph, which is simply their names, age, and when they died.

We of course visited this famous repository, and it is natural to suppose, that so many corpses would impress one with reverence and awe. It was near dusk when we arrived at the Convent. We passed the chapel where one of the order had just finished saying vespers, by the gloomy glimmering of a dying lamp. We were then conducted through a garden, where the yew, the cypress, and the barren orange obscured the remaining light, and where melancholy silence is only disturbed by the hollow murmuring of a feeble waterfall. All these circumstances tuned our minds for the dismal scene we were going to behold, but we had still to descend a flight of steps impervious to the sun. And these, at last, conveyed us to the dreary mansion of the dead.

But (will you believe me?) notwithstanding the chilling scene we had gone through; notwithstanding our being in the midst of more than a thousand lifeless bodies, neither our respect for the dead, or for the holy fathers who conducted us, could prevent our smiling. For the physiognomies of the deceased are so ludicrously mutilated, and their muscles so contracted and distorted in the drying, that no French mimick could equal their grimaces. Most of the corpses have lost the lower part of the nose--their necks are generally a little twisted--their mouths drawn awry in one direction--their noses in another--their eyes sunk and pointed different ways--one ear perhaps turned up--the other drawn down. The friars soon observed the mirth these unexpected visages occasioned, and one of them as a kind of memento, pointed out to me a Captain of Cavalry, who had just been cut off in the pride of his youth. But three months ago he was the minion of a King--the favorite of a Princess--Alas! how changed! Even on earth there is no distinction between him and the meanest beggar. This in a moment returned me to myself, and I felt, with full force, the folly of human vanity. I turned to the holy father, who gave me this lesson. His eyes were fixed on what was once a Captain of horse--I saw in them

The relations of the deceased are bound to send two wax tapers every year, for the use of the Convent; in default of which the corpse is taken down and thrown into the charnel house. Were it not for the number of vacancies occasioned by the non-payment of this stipend, the Capuchins would be unable to find niches for the number of men who must die every year in so populous a city as this.

Women are dried as well as the men, but are not exposed. Nobles are shut up in chests.

I am just returned from seeing Prince Palagonia become a member of this society. The beginning of his funeral, although similar to that of every Lord in this island, struck me as being as preposterous as his palace.

He was carried to the Convent in a sedan, attended by all his household. As soon as he entered the Chapel, the sedan was opened, and two pages supported him to an armed chair. Here he was seated in state, dressed in his richest clothes--his hair full powdered--a sword by his side--his hat under his arm. The Nobility of the island were assembled to meet him. They all bowed to the corpse, and after a short pause the ceremony began.

The masses were interwoven in an Oratorio composed for the occasion, which, notwithstanding only two days were given to prepare it, did great credit to the composer; and the performers, both vocal and instrumental, gave him every support. The exordium beginning with "Ecco il Principe preso da Dio." "Behold the Prince whom God hath taken," was in the highest degree pathetic and affecting. The immortal Handel could not have exceeded the energy of the musick, and the corpse of the departed Prince carried the words with full force to the heart.

I regret that I cannot procure this excellent piece, since, as we are preparing to sail on our second voyage to the Archipelago, I was obliged to come on board the moment the ceremony was over.

But before I leave this place, I will raise your philanthropy, by mentioning a charitable institution which is here carried to a particular height. I mean a foundation, by which a number of female children are not only brought up in morality and religion, and taught some useful art, that will enable them to earn their bread; but when they arrive at a certain age, and are qualified to undertake the cares of a family, portions are assigned to those who choose to marry. When virgins have these advantages, their Guardians will never be long in search of unexceptionable husbands.